#that's why even if it turned into a competition to be a pristine human being

[verysium]

ACT 1, SCENE 3: blue lock headcanons

sae is into skincare: lotions, serums, the whole set. he and rin used to have self-care nights as children during which they would sit in bed with matching face masks and watch cartoons on the family tablet. if they were in a good mood, they would let you join.

barou listens to classical while working out. no joke. this man is so insanely focused he will shoot goals and play paganini at the same time. his work ethic is low-key why you were attracted to him the first place.

nagi is lazy to the point he will deliberately buy five pairs of the same exact pants just to save himself the trouble of having to choose an outfit in the morning. thank god for reo otherwise nagi would still be dressing like he just crawled out of bed. he still can't do much about his bedhead though.

rin desperately wanted to join sae in the deeper end of the community pool; however, he was deathly afraid of drowning. his only logical solution was to cover himself in pool floaties while he dipped a single toe into the water. even to this day, he still has traumatic memories of that experience. you need to hold his hand every time.

kaiser acts like his football prowess comes entirely from natural talent. in reality, he trains to an obsessive degree behind the scenes. you could come home at midnight, and he would still be there replaying every single highlight of his recent game. he is the type to keep detailed notes about all the players he went up against.

isagi likes to walk around his hometown of saitama and just observe the snapshots of life around him. whether it's a street vendor, children playing on a grass patch, or a couple in the sunset, he secretly enjoys these little vignettes of human experience. he would become sentimental when it comes to you. sometimes you have to pull his head out of the clouds.

nagi has parents who work overseas, so the most he sees of them is through video calls or holiday presents. occasionally, he also gets a birthday card shipped through international mail. when you threw him his first surprise party, he secretly felt touched because his family was never big on physical celebrations.

sae is ridiculously good at anything that involves data and calculations. he participated in a math competition one time in junior high, and he would have made it to the national level had he not been entirely focused on football. refused to tutor rin in algebra though because apparently his little brother has to figure out everything for himself. if it were you though, he would begrudgingly agree.

bachira holds the world record in procrastination. his notebook, pencil, and eraser are still as untouched and pristine as they were on the first day of the academic school year. he does not know what a book is, nor has he read one. he only studied because you refused to cuddle with him otherwise.

ego eats so many cups of instant ramen noodles that his glasses begin to fog up from time to time. anri has to clean the frames and lenses weekly just to make sure his myopic self can even see. at this point, she's the real MVP of the entire series.

barou likes to open the windows right after it rains because he enjoys the sweet smell of petrichor. his ideal day would be spent lounging on a couch with some tea and a novel. it would be even more perfect if you snuggled under the blankets with him.

niko sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night, immensely insecure about his forehead. he thinks it looks giant though it really isn't. you have to brush his fringe back and pepper kisses down his face and remind him that a big forehead means a big, sexy brain, so it really isn't that bad. he believes you and goes back to sleep.

shidou would make fun of boomers. in fact, he'd ridicule every single person he considers past their prime. he does not believe in any form of authority, nor does he like being told what to do. if he had his way, he would have turned the entire world into anarchy a long time ago. the only reason why he doesn't wake up and make himself everyone's problem is because he doesn't want to upset you.

kaiser knows he is very well-endowed physically, so he purposefully walks around your apartment shirtless. if he catches you eyeing him, he will make a big deal out of it. tries to not-so-subtly flex his biceps every time he reaches for the milk carton.

reo loves cocktail dresses, especially in the wine red shade. something about the accentuated figure and natural curves gives him goosebumps. his favorite part of you is when your tummy slightly protrudes after you've eaten too much. you might think it's embarrassing, but he thinks it's adorable.

rin only uses shower gel, mostly because he learned his lesson after using the locker room shower stalls. never use bar soap, always use bottled. he's also the type to always have shower shoes. sae taught him that.

bachira is the type of student to completely misread the question and still not feel bad after the teacher points it out. oh no, he was actually supposed to solve for x, not just circle it? he'll shrug it off like nothing ever happened. at least he tried. the teacher should be grateful for his effort.

sae says he does not understand the sentiments behind cute couple traditions but then proceeds to get upset when you show up to his game without wearing his jersey. would definitely get you matching bracelets for your anniversary.

aiku has a high spice tolerance. he would definitely drown his food either in sriracha or buldak sauce. if you can't handle spicy though, he would set aside a separate plate just for you and manually spoon out the food just to make sure you have something to eat too.

aryu never has dry cuticles. he is always trimming and filing to perfection. sometimes he has beef with your nail tech because he thinks he could have done so much better on your acrylics. refuses to let you go to a salon because he already has all the tools and expertise necessary.

sae does not know how to cook. his manager has always ordered take-out for him. the one time he tried to use a microwave, he completely misread the package instructions and nearly burned the entire building down. called you up with the straightest face afterwards to tell you that the smoke alarms were not shutting off.

barou unconsciously caves into peer pressure. every single new trend makes him rethink his personal style. however, he views it all with an old man mentality. like what are these youngsters doing these days? dying their hair every possible color of the rainbow? he has to do that too. proceeds to call aryu to add red streaks into his own hair. sometimes you have to remind him that external opinion should always taken with a grain of salt.

chigiri has a major sweet tooth. if you so much as bake him one single treat, he will have made plans to put a ring on your finger before he even finishes the damn pastry. his ideal partner is someone mature and understanding who can take care of him well. definitely likes the homemaker type.

gagamaru is the seeing friend in your relationship. no matter how many trips he makes to the optometrist, he will always come back with perfect 20/20 vision. definitely a nature enthusiast, and he loves hiking. even if you're blind as a bat, he will always be there to hold your hand in the dark.

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Future Proof Onboarding

Click, click, click, click, click, click—

The small metal spheres on both ends of the array suspended in the Newton’s cradle kept swinging away one side, then back, striking the center set. This tiny display of force always sent the sphere on the opposite end into swinging up and back to mirror its motion, then repeating the endless cycle all over again on its next click against the center set. Tiny shockwaves of force, back and forth, back and forth, ever since Spencer tipped the first ball and started reading the papers on his desk.

Click, click, click, click, click, click—

A steady rhythm, in perpetual motion.

Chloe Grant stared at the Newton’s cradle on Malachi Spencer’s desk. It helped her focus and keep her composure, preventing any feelings of nervousness from surfacing. She suppressed all usual habits, kept her hands folded in her lap, and second-guessed if she even wanted this job.

The cold reception at the front desk in an otherwise empty lobby, the ride up in a spacious elevator made of mirrors, and the dizzying view of the city from the thirtieth story in Spencer’s office all conspired to drain every shred of confidence she had harbored before stepping foot inside the building.

The longer she sat there, the more her ego deflated, even though her CV contained everything the job listing was asking for, and more. Military service with decorations, an education in cybersecurity, half a decade of working in private security at a multinational, and a pristine record without as much as a parking ticket to her name.

However, a lot of things about Future Proof LLC were unusual.

Chief among them was the CEO himself, Malachi Spencer, whose office she now sat in, while he studied her cover letter and CV with a stern and cold gaze. Taking far too long for what it should have taken to scan the papers proper.

Click, click, click, click, click, click—

Was this a test? In and of itself, testing her patience?

Chloe Grant possessed a healthy dose of arrogance and the ability to assert herself in almost any environment. She was tall and fit. Back in high school, people would derisively call her “Jack’s Beanstalk” because of her shorter boyfriend at the time. But it all conspired to sharpen her competitive nature, and thicken her skin. Her physique lent itself to playing basketball, and that, in turn, primed her for joining the military later on.

Drills, duty, discipline. Hard work, long hours, loss and therapy; Chloe had seen a lot and never shied away from seeing more. More of the world, more of herself.

Even so, she grappled with something she hadn’t felt since high school, which is why a lot of these memories were bubbling back up.

She felt insecure.

Malachi Spencer was a tall black man. Angular facial features matched his thin and slender frame, lending him a sharp look. If any person had ever looked like a knife in human form, then Malachi Spencer fit the description.

The sharpness extended to his attire, as Spencer was dressed in a sharp white three-piece suit, all tailored to perfectly fit his form, and probably worth a small fortune on its own. Paired with his rigid posture, he projected a regal air of strictness and severity. Every motion of his, no matter how subtle, conveyed a sense of swift and exacting purpose.

Just observing Spencer for a few minutes, it was clear he was not a man you disappoint without coming to deeply regret your failures.

Everything about him screamed unchecked power, and it left Chloe with another feeling to keep the growing insecurity company.

Inadequacy.

So, Chloe stared at the Newton’s cradle to keep herself centered, just like the metal spheres in the middle. They looked perfectly still, while repeatedly being struck from both sides by the spheres at each end.

Click, click, click, click, click, click—

The papers in Spencer’s hands rustled as he finally put them down onto the shiny surface of his glossy desk.

He looked up over the rims of his thin silvered glasses, as if he only needed them to read. His gaze burned with a fiery intensity.

She clenched her jaw and made eye contact. Chloe kept her composure as still as the statue of a Greek goddess. Against all odds, her arrogance and confidence returned. She was used to asserting herself against men in power—whether they truly held it, or only mistakenly believed they did.

It was time to prove herself, and she could do that better than with any written application.

Malachi Spencer beat her to the punch.

“You must have questions,” he said. The first words since asking her to take a seat across from him at his desk.

The same sharpness of his appearance also extended to his way of speaking. Authoritative, determined, and with a seriousness that would make the grim reaper blush.

“Yes, sir,” she replied without missing a beat. “I did my research on Future Proof LLC—and on you—and I couldn’t help but notice how well-sanitized the firm’s public image is in regards to its operations. Is there any NDA I should sign before we proceed?”

Spencer’s left brow twitched. He leaned over the desk, slid a sheet of paper and a pen towards her, and then leaned back, steepling his fingers while he waited.

Chloe scanned the form. It looked like any others she had signed before, though the threat of litigation carried a far higher and more punishing sum than she had ever glimpsed before. She struggled to imagine the sheer amount of zeroes behind the number that they would sue her for in the event of a breach of contract.

As she harbored no intention of letting things ever come to that, it did little to stop her. After all, she was a professional. And if the pay here was half as good as the company’s outward secrecy, she was willing to enter this agreement.

In a heartbeat.

Spencer wouldn’t wait long. The pen glided over paper as she signed her name on the bottom line.

She slid the items back over to Spencer, who didn’t even bother casting as much as a glance at them. His fierce gaze had been resting on her all the while.

“Our background check beforehand suggests you are a good fit for our company. Your record is clean. Too clean. I hate nasty surprises, so I will only ask you once, now. Is there anything about you we should know?”

How thorough was the background check, she wondered?

“I am terrible with Secret Santa gifts,” she quipped.

His burning gaze turned into a scowl. She kept her composure, sure not to display any form of shrinking under his severe expression.

With awkward delay, the corners of his lips twitched until they formed a thin-lipped, cold smile, never quite reaching his eyes despite extensive practice.

Spencer chortled like a villain out of a James Bond movie.

Then, as abruptly as the laugh cut out, all humor vanished from his expression again.

“One more question,” he said. “Are you squeamish around animals?”

Chloe blinked. Now he had truly caught her off-guard.

Were there animal experiments being conducted in Future Proof that the public had never heard about?

Possible… given the ridiculous sum she had just agreed to be sued for should she ever leak.

“I don’t much like dogs,” she admitted.

Spencer harumphed.

Seizing the initiative, she started asking her own questions. She knew she always impressed in doing so.

“What is it I would exactly be doing for Future Proof?”

Click, click, click, click, cl—

With a sudden gesture and his finger to stop a metal ball, Spencer halted the perpetual motion of the Newton’s cradle.

“You would be acting as a field operative on an international stage, cooperating with a team of trained professionals, all of the same high caliber and integrity as you, Miss Grant.”

Fancy words. Still keeping things vague. Though Spencer’s overall air lent them weight, gravity, even.

It was starting to sound more and more like mercenary work, dressed up in silk. His pregnant pause gave her space to let that sink in and pose another question.

“And this work is based on contracts with interests in the private sector?”

Spencer removed his glasses, gingerly folded them, and rested them on an otherwise almost empty desk.

“Future Proof LLC is partially funded and supported by three private interest groups, but our sole contractor is the United States government. We carry out our work with absolute discretion as to maintain plausible deniability, even should an operation go awry.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. Spencer continued.

“Abroad, we get in and out of hotspots before local authorities or armed forces can interrogate the legal liberties we take. Domestically, we are often on site before national agencies can show up to ask questions about the incursions we handle.”

She blinked. The first time her composure showed any cracks.

Such an odd choice of word to hint at the nature of the company’s operations.

“What kind of incursions?”

Another thin-lipped smile crept across Spencer’s lips. This one reached his eyes—genuine. A genuine smirk, knowing something she did not.

Like it amused him.

“I will leave that for your future colleagues to brief you on,” he said.

Cocky. As if she had already taken the job, despite only having signed the NDA, she thought.

“I am intrigued,” she again admitted. And it had all only served to reignite her deep wells of confidence. Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but that kind of caution needed to be thrown into the wind sometimes. She cocked a brow and nailed what it all boiled down to. “Though the price must be at least adequate for all this secrecy and, what I must assume are the risks of death, injury, and incarceration in foreign nations. What am I going to earn if I join your operations?”

Spencer’s smile widened. He didn’t miss a beat.

His response shot out like a bullet.

“Name your price.”

She fired back. High enough to expect he would haggle her down, but not so high as to suggest she had her head in the clouds, nor so low that it would undersell the importance of the company’s work, or her own skillset.

“Three hundred thousand a year at a minimum, not including benefits and any insurance policies.”

Spencer extended a hand across the desk.

“You’re hired.”

The world began to spin around Chloe. Not a sum she had expected him to agree with, as it far eclipsed what international mercenaries usually earned—though the NDA should have tipped her off. No haggling. Higher than she expected, far higher than the previous private firm she had worked for in a similar capacity.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. But the world continued to spin.

The cloudless blue horizon and city skyline that dominated the view from Spencer’s corner office kept spinning. It turned into an ocean of heavens and glass that she was swimming in, and the rest of their conversation drowned in it.

Somewhere, in the middle of that brain fog, she shook that thin hand of his. A firm shake, from both of them.

Hours later, she had signed on with Future Proof LLC. Shaken Malachi Spencer’s hand a second time in agreement over the terms of her new employment there. Written her signature at the bottom of stacks upon stacks of legal papers, ushered here, then there, talking to several faces whose names she immediately forgot.

The offer was too good for her to pass up. The insurance policy was more generous than she could have dreamt of, ensuring securities for her mother should the worst come to pass.

The vagueness of the nature of their work no longer put her off.

At the end of the day, Chloe Grant even told herself: morality was best kept flexible. She placed her work ethic above all, and part of her was excited to learn more about whatever mysterious work as a field operative awaited her at Future Proof.

A man of Pakistani descent named Singh soon gave her a tour of the corporate headquarters. Most of the offices above ground were exactly as she expected: opulent, vacant, and focused on administrative tasks.

Rida Singh showed her to her new office, though he cracked a joke that she’d probably only be using it to take naps, “like Mischchenko and Pruitt” usually did. She didn’t even know yet whom Singh was referring to.

All of it was a blur. Floating on a sea into the unknown.

Surreal.

Yet it made her giddy. It all gave her a sensation akin to butterflies in her stomach. Everything about Future Proof’s corporate tower filled her with wonder and exalted curiosity.

The place was so high-tech and cutting edge wherever they went, they had to be hemorrhaging money. Every computer, even every printer looked like it had been upgraded or replaced in recent months. Office workers made zero security mistakes as they spoke on phones, locked their screens when they left their desks, and typed away at their computer keyboards.

Lights were dimmed and brightened with state-of-the-art touch sensors, doors opened and closed automatically without direct contact, every glossy surface of chrome or glass or plastic was polished to perfection. Chloe didn’t spot a single speck of dust nor a smudge of grease anywhere.

Her new office featured a glass front and tall floor-to-ceiling windows like Spencer’s office, though the console on her desk and voice controls offered settings to render every translucent surface entirely opaque. A place for naps indeed.

Singh, according to their initial introduction, was head of Central Operations. Whatever that meant.

He looked like the opposite of Spencer, and he was definitely no soldier. He was a young man in his late twenties, probably Chloe’s junior by a whole decade or more. He dressed like he worked at Google or some startup tech company in Silicon Valley, rather than someone in communications for what had to be an international mercenary outfit. He wore a baby blue jacket slung over a hip T-shirt with some nonsensical meme written across it, topping a pair of stonewashed jeans, and bright white designer sneakers on his feet. The amount of product he must have used to style his hair probably even eclipsed the costume budget.

Also, unlike Spencer, Singh was deeply insecure around Chloe. Furtive glances indicated that her very presence intimidated him. A whole head taller than the younger man, she exuded a cold and collected professionalism, further conveyed through all her forced smiles. Even in her best black dress and shoes she had worn to the interview, her muscles and frame lent her physical appearance a powerful energy that was bound to scare a little nerd like Singh. Even still swimming and disoriented by the surreal experience of exploring her fancy new workplace, she still carried herself with the same composure she had mustered in front of the CEO, and she would do the same even if Singh introduced her to the building custodian next—whom she expected to be a wizard.

Singh carried keys and magnetic cards to every room in the building and every level of the elevator he showed her to. After a cup of coffee in the break room, they headed onto the elevator. He flashed the red magnetic key card at the touchpad and entered a number that snapped Chloe out of her daze.

Minus twelve.

Twelve levels below ground?

How huge was this place, and what the hell did they have down there?

Her expression provoked Singh into emitting a nervous chuckle.

He wagged a finger, grinned, and said, “Everybody looks like that upon their first visit. Wait till you see Containment.”

Chloe scoffed.

“Containment? What, like… little green men? What exactly is Future Proof really doing?”

He chuckled again, now with more confidence. The young man let his head hang and then shook it before meeting Chloe’s inquisitive gaze.

“Dinosaurs,” he drawled out.

His grin went from ear to ear, beautiful white teeth on display like a Cheshire cat’s.

Now it was her turn to laugh. His smile persisted, and her laugh descended into a smile before fading entirely.

He was serious.

“Oh, you. You’re shitting me.”

He shook his head again.

“This is my favorite part of the onboarding process.”

Though he still grinned, the spinning and dizzying sensation made Chloe’s head swim again. She felt it in every fiber of her being, and it only made the entire experience more surreal.

He really wasn’t joking.

“Pull the other one,” she said, clicking her tongue, and still dismissive of the possibility.

Dinosaurs? Really?

Ding.

The elevators slid open, and he guided her down a long and tall corridor. There and then, she learned he had been doing anything but joking.

“Welcome to Future Proof’s containment facility, Grant.”

Behind thick, bullet-proof glass panes, she stared into an underground jungle with deep wonder. That wonder turned to a festering terror in her gut. A large lizard’s eye blinked and gazed back at her, and a large mouth opened to show rows of glistening fangs.

The glass fogged up when the Velociraptor snorted against it.

“Like I said, my favorite part of the onboarding process,” Singh said with another chuckle. “This is usually where some people start screaming. One person even quit on the spot.”

She timidly tapped the glass with a fingernail.

“Too thick to hear you,” he commented. “But that mix of curiosity and caution tells me you’re gonna fit in real nice around here.”

Too thick to hear her nail clicking through the glass, the raptor bared its fangs again, reacting to her motion. It snorted and the glass fogged up again.

“Holy shit,” Chloe breathed.

“Oh boy. Wait till you see the Tarbosaur.”

“The what?”

Chloe backed away from the glass. So did the raptor. That sensation of butterflies in her stomach was long gone. The terror quickly subsided, as the thick metal doors and complex security measures all around her suggested the creature was well-contained. Even so, she remained unsettled.

More so as she swiveled, and really took in how many such huge containment cells lined the central corridor.

The Velociraptor on the other side of the protective glass between them faded into the shadows of the artificial jungle.

“Eh, it’s like a smaller T-Rex. Oh, and, don’t worry. Between Mischchenko and Burch, we got all the expertise on dinos we need. I just repeat the fancy names they rattle down. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough, too.”

He smiled and winked and shot her with a finger-gun gesture.

He continued on through the corridor, past different containment cells. Chloe almost stumbled as she struggled to peel her gaze from the glass window from which the Velociraptor had vanished.

A pack of small dinosaurs hopped up at another protective glass pane as the two humans passed it by. Though almost cute at first glance, Chloe clocked the many tiny claws and teeth. Treating that pack like a visit to the petting zoo was probably as healthy as diving headfirst into a woodchipper.

Other cells contained far larger specimens. A truck-sized beast with horns and a plated head languidly ate straw from a gargantuan pile. Something with a long neck sat by an artificial pool, lapping away at the water.

Chloe’s ability to articulate any more questions faded as quickly as everything else in her mind. Landing this new job no longer challenged her confidence… it challenged the very understanding of how the world even worked. It challenged her whole concept of reality.

“Did… did scientists engineer these…?”

Singh emitted another nervous laugh.

“Oh, no. Oh, hell no. No, they came through Anomalies.”

“What?”

“This.”

Singh swiped a black magnetic card in front of the sealed door at the very end of the corridor.

The dizziness nearly toppled Chloe at this point. It took all her focus to stay standing upright.

Hermetic seals hissed and metal discs clanked as they twisted and the large gate unlocked. Doors several feet thick, laced with steel and electric wiring, both slid inwards in eerie unison.

Beyond their threshold, a large glowing sphere hovered mid-air, surrounded by several odd devices that looked like they had been stolen from a science fiction movie’s set.

“This… is an Anomaly, Grant. Can I… call you Chloe?”

Slack-jawed, she stared at the huge glowing sphere. It shimmered with triangles of light, unstable and glittering, like a sea of broken glass reflecting sunlight, all formed into a ball.

“No,” she snapped out. Fascinated by the so-called “Anomaly”, she had neither eyes nor ears for Singh and didn’t mean for her reply to have sounded as mean as it had.

The Anomaly… for some reason, it reminded her of the Newton’s cradle on Spencer’s desk.

“This is… this is where those dinosaurs came from?”

Chloe took a timid step into the sprawling chamber. Lights blinked on countless consoles, myriads of systems arranged in a circle around the Anomaly. Monitors emitted a cold glow with countless charts displaying an incomprehensible amount of data on screen. Cables and wiring connected all manner of machines and devices that she couldn’t even hope to start comprehending just yet, and a handsome, gray-haired man in a lab coat quietly tapped away at a keyboard, squinting at a screen by the far end of the chamber, seemingly oblivious to both Singh and Chloe entering his domain—or too focused on his work.

“Nope,” Singh said. “Well, except that really ugly thing in Six-Dee. The rest came from other Anomalies and got stuck in our time before anybody could put them back. No, this puppy? This one leads to the future.”

Still slack-jawed, Chloe’s internal battery ran dry. She failed to retort or ask anything else.

Didn’t even know where to start.

Singh continued chattering with melody to his words, “Yeah, I said it. You heard me right. The future. Welcome to Future Proof, Chloe Grant. I’m looking forward to working with you. And that over there is Doctor Solomon, head of engineering.”

Chloe approached the Anomaly. Slowly, but surely—as if she was afraid it would suddenly explode. Awed, as it was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes upon.

She extended a hand. Reaching out to touch it.

Doctor Solomon paused in tapping on the keyboard and looked up, casting a glance to Singh before locking onto Chloe.

Singh joked with another chuckle, “Oh, yeah, it’s cool. Don’t ask me or anybody else if it’s cool to touch the big weird glowing orb. It’s, uh, it’s sealed right now, by the way.”

The mysterious glowing orb was cold to the touch.

Klaxons started blaring. Red alarm lights flashed with hectic rhythm.

“Shit,” Chloe hissed. “I thought it was okay to touch it!”

Singh and Solomon exchanged a glance before the gray-haired scientists finally spoke up. His voice was calm and soothing, a stark contrast to the alarm invoked by klaxons and lights.

“Nothing to worry about here. The Anomaly is stable. No, that there is your cue—you’re needed.”

Singh said, “Yeah, uh, okay. I guess that cuts the tour a bit short, let me get you to the armory and ready room. What size are you?”

“Uh, excuse me?” Chloe asked. “What’s going on now?”

Doctor Solomon chuckled. He leaned over the console, folding his hands, and cracking his knuckles. “Don’t break anything you can’t afford to buy,” he said with a smile.

“Your size, for the uniform,” Singh repeated, more urgency swinging in his tone. “Look, okay? Follow me. That alarm says the ADS detected an Anomaly somewhere. We need to get you to the ready room with the other operatives, Grant. Come on!”

She did.

With quick steps just shy of jogging, Chloe Grant followed Singh back out from containment, all the way to the elevator.

All the way back down that long and ominous corridor, the Velociraptor eyed her from the shadows, through the thick glass.

Hunger lurked in its eyes.

[mariibound2003]

Scotsman X Diesel 10 headcanons

(yeah, it’s probably an odd pair and y’all are probably furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, but idrc and thought they kinda complimented each other, enough talking for now, let’s hop into the headcanons!~) Before Meeting

*Before meeting, Diesel 10 had already known/heard a lot about Flying Scotsman and his greatest achievements, at first he saw him like any other steam engine and despised him just as much, but over time he gained a sort of admiration for him that he hadn’t shared with any other engine, that admiration would soon turn into a full blown crush, though ofc he wouldn’t admit it outright to anyone, but the couple of posters and newspaper clippings in his shed would tell you otherwise... *Before meeting, Scotsman had heard a few tales about Diesel 10 during his visits to Sodor, though he never fully believed them because he knew how... ‘close minded’ some of the Sodor engines could be, plus he was an open minded individual to begin with due to traveling all across the world and meeting all sorts of individuals, so unless he saw it for himself he wouldn’t fully believe the stories/rumors, he never gets a chance to find out if they are true or not until much later on, due to Diesel 10 usually locking himself away in his shed when not working... When they meet *How they met was simple, Diesel 10 had been driving around to blow off some ‘steam’ after a particularly rough meeting with the Fat Controller discussing about his shed door being broken, which was ‘put aside to be fixed later’ almost a year ago and still hadn’t been dealt with by then, that’s when he pulled up into the station where Scotsman was supposed to be meeting his brother Gordon for lunch, unfortunately Gordon was not available as he was in for repairs and wouldn’t be seeing anyone until tomorrow, Scotsman was about to head off to do something else after hearing this, but before he could get far he finally took notice of Diesel 10 on the track next to him, who was snooping on the convo he had been having with the station master... *Diesel 10 was instantly panicked as he had been spotted and feared that he had already made a bad first impression if Scotsman hadn’t already known about him before now and was prepared for him to start yelling at him, but Scotsman only seemed slightly taken aback by this, he wasn’t a stranger to having people sneak up on him and ask to take photos or to sign things- don’t ask how- so he simply laughed it off and made a few jokes about it, his eyes landing on the warship’s paintwork and gnarly claw on top of his roof, instantly recognizing these things he asks for his name and is delighted- much to Diesel 10′s surprise- to find out it was him!... *Scotsman begins talking about how he had been hearing his name around the island and had wanted to meet him, but ofc never could until now, further making Diesel 10 surprised and he even felt some blush forming on his cheeks, after all, he never thought such a fine, pristine and famous steam engine would want anything to do with a smelly, slightly broken down and scary looking diesel engine like himself, guess he was proven wrong!... *They get to talking, both deciding to head off and hang out for the rest of the day, since Diesel 10 wasn’t needed at the time and Scotsman wouldn’t have anything to do until tomorrow, despite causing a small stir amongst those who passed them by, it was going smoothly and at this point Scotsman could confirm he also had some feelings for his clawed companion, something he had questioned after knowing of the diesel’s existence for awhile, but was only comfortable admitting to it after seeing him in person to make sure the feelings were real... *overall it was a successful hangout and they got along a lot better then anyone would’ve guessed, even after Diesel 10 shamefully confessed that some of the rumors/stories were true, this didn’t change Scotsman’s feelings about him, if anything his honestly about it made his feelings grow stronger and gave him enough incentive to heavily hint at his feelings for the warship, confessing that he ‘always had a soft spot for the rougher and meaner looking engines like him’ and asked for another ‘hangout/date’ together, Diesel 10- very flusteredly- said yes to this and from that point forwards they became an item...

How they are now

*Despite getting flack from the others and being apart for long periods of time, they are quite happy with each other, while the steam engines are not all completely approving of the relationship- with the exceptions of Gordon, Percy, Thomas (kinda) and Edward- the diesels however all were very accepting and Scotsman was almost instantly welcomed by them after Diesel 10 introduced him!... *their dates together usually consist of driving around Sodor talking about what sort of shenanigans they’ve been up to while they were separated, or they get together to have lunch, sometimes Scotsman will bring back gifts and momentos from his travels for Diesel10 and sometimes the rest of the diesels at the Dieselworks. *Diesel 10 does his best to return his kindness, although he isn’t able to get gifts quite like Scotsman’s, he can at least make a mean apple pie, yes you heard that right, he knows how to bake, while sometimes he needs human assistance he can manage the kitchen on his own, Scotsman is always pleased to receive such baked goods from him and insists he makes something that he can take home to show off and enjoy when they’re apart. *Diesel 10 has offered countless times to show Scotsman how to bake/cook good food, because well... Scotsman has an interesting pallet, it’s so outrageous and appalling that it makes the most questionably appetited engines- which is most of them- gag and turn away in disgust, but Scotsman doesn’t mind/care, tho he has been banned from every kitchen within 80 miles of his location because of his crimes against food. *Scotsman is the only engine to ever make Diesel 10 get all soft and mushy and openly show of his dorkier side, despite Diesel 10 being mildly embarrassed if others are around to see it/make fun of him for it, he actually doesn’t mind the attention from Scotsman and won’t really try to stop him from doing whatever it is he was doing to make him feel this way. *they have flirting/compliment wars to see who will get all flustered first... Scotsman- being the natural flirt he is- usually wins, which is part of what makes his dear Diesel 10 a mushy mess. *if you were to catch them at the right time you might hear them singing together, as Scotsman naturally has a good singing voice and Diesel 10 is not half bad either, but he still needs a little practice, thus whenever they meet they’ll practice together. *Scotsman also helps Diesel 10 with confidence, because surprise, surprise! he has some lack in self confidence because of everything that happened in the past and the fact most people/engines outside of the Dieselworks give him dirty looks, hence why he usually hides away, but they’re working on it. *Diesel 10 now refers to Gordon as his ‘favorite brother-in-law’ and likes to antagonize him about it any chance he gets, often times coming to wherever he’s working/following him while doing express runs to do exactly that, Gordon ofc isn’t a big fan of this, but he allows it since Diesel 10 has mellowed out after meeting his brother and Scotsman seems quite happy with him, so he treats it as a minor annoyance more then anything, just like how he treats Scotsman’s ‘Little brother’ comments. *Scotsman often sleeps over at the Dieselworks whenever he’s visiting for a few days, whether it’s just for the sake of visiting or if it’s for some sort of competition on the island he is competing in. *speaking of competitions... while not always able to, Diesel 10 and some of the other diesels try to make it to see Scotsman compete, after all he’s one of them now and they do whatever they can to support him and will even hold a mini celebration with him after all is said and done, regardless if Scotsman won or not, it’s more-so an excuse for him and Diesel 10 to snuggle up next to each other and enjoy each other’s company.

[nikethestatue]

Forbidden

Elriel Month - Day 4, Forbidden

Pining, a little bit fluffy, a little bit angsty and plenty of Nyx if you like him

The weather was miserable, and Azriel was miserable as well.

After finishing his work at his office in the city, he would’ve typically walked, but the freezing sleet that bombarded his wings didn’t inspire walking. His mood only worsened the moment he stepped out of the building, and he found himself hating everything. Hating himself, for being a coward, hating Rhys, hating the completely innocent Cassian and Nesta, who were absolutely gracious towards him, and allowed him to remain living in, what was technically, their house now. He rose swiftly in the air, flying towards the red stone monstrosity that was carved into the mountain, while the cold rain pelted his already-freezing wings. Everything was freezing. He could’ve thrown a shield over himself, like a smart male, but he wasn’t being very smart lately. He just didn’t fucking care.

Petulant and morose, he wondered for a millionth time when and why everything went wrong for him? Why was it that the thing he loved and relished the most in his life—his family—were now the cause of his greatest despair? How could his brother, the brother who gave him his new life, who cared for and protected him, who did not judge him and gave him the opportunity to live the life Azriel wanted, who paid him generously and allowed him the freedom to operate as he saw fit—how did this brother suddenly became the impediment to Azriel’s happiness? The brother that Azriel loved and admired now outright forbade Azriel’s happiness. And over what? The ginger princeling that Azriel didn’t care for at all…as he didn’t care for the entire family. He had to sacrifice his happiness to please a Vanserra! The mere thought of it enraged him so intensely, he almost crashed into a roof. As he banked to avoid the green tiles slick with rain, he wondered if Lucien would act as honorably if the roles were reversed? Would he maintain his composure like Azriel always tried to do in Lucien’s presence? Would he fly him in his arms? (Truly, a rather horrifying memory, if Azriel had to admit. Carrying fucking Lucien Vanserra in his arms, like a babe. Like he’d carry Elain. Or even Feyre. He was forced to cradle Lucien!). Would he avoid Elain?

Elain.

Azriel wanted Elain. He always wanted her—wanted her giggly laugh, the sparkle of her caramel eyes, the flip of the braid, the surprisingly firm touch of her calloused fingers, the scent of her, the rosy blush of her cheeks. Even though he was forbidden from courting her, or pursuing her in any fashion, they still came together at family gatherings and Azriel learned of her sharp, sometimes brutal sense of humour, of her inquisitiveness, and of things that surprised him. She let it slip that she wanted to travel, wanted to see the world, the continent, all the Courts. Wanted to eat exotic foods and go to museums and botanic gardens and drink coffee in small cafes. She told him that she dreamed of going to the beach and lazing around in the white sand.

Fuck it.

Tonight, he wanted Elain. He wanted to see her with a desperation that almost hurt his bones. Even if for a few moments. Maybe just at dinnertime, under Rhys’s annoying scrutiny, but he could do it. For her, he could do it. Forbidden or not.

So, he made a sharp turn and flew away from the House of Wind, toward the River Estate. The rain was now relentless and even in his sour mood, he had the presence of mind to finally shield himself, though it did little to dispel his gloomy thoughts.

The house wasn’t warded against his entry—he still had a bedroom and an office in there, though he used it very infrequently now. Shaking off the water that was sluicing off his wings as much as he could, he opened the door and entered.

A roar greeted him. A despondent, angry, colossal roar that came from the pudgy baby that currently wheeled into the foyer in his wooden walker. Nyx was screaming like he was being gutted. His perfectly round face was wet with tears, scrunched up and so red, that Azriel feared that his nephew might be having a conniption.

“Hello?” Azriel called out, as he removed his sodden jacket, and then considered, and removed his boots, so not to drag the water and mud across the marble floor.

Nyx was still screaming angrily, looking at Azriel with a weird challenge in his blue eyes.

Shaking his head, Azriel muttered, “What is going on with you?” and then sent a coil of fluffy shadow towards Nyx. Usually, it was enough to placate the baby and allowed for a moment of reprieve. Nyx, however, watched the shadow with disgust, and as soon as it approached him, he swapped at it with his fat hand, trying to slap it away. The shadow attempted a little jump, eager to play with him, but it only caused a further scream of outrage, as Nyx lunged at it with ferocious hatred, swatting it away, until Azriel pulled all the shadows back, so not to aggravate the situation further. Nyx’s soft baby wings were tangled behind his back, since he kept flaring them in his rage, and then unsuccessfully snapping them back, so Azriel squatted in front of him and began to gently dislodge and straighten them, while Nyx wailed and squirmed in the walker. “What are you, possessed?” muttered Azriel and pulled Nyx out of the walker, and was immediately rewarded with an even louder scream, as snot and drool flew everywhere.

“Azriel!”

There she was.

Everything stopped. Azriel no longer heard Nyx’s grunting and angry squeals, as he held him and stroked his head, gently smoothing down the silky black hair.

He’d never seen Elain so…frazzled. And so beautiful. So…human.

The girl he loved was always put together, even when gardening, in her floppy hat and dungarees, she looked picture perfect. In the kitchen, in her colourful aprons that she bought from one specific shop, she was pretty and pristine. But standing in front of him right now, this was the most lovely Elain that he’d ever seen. Cauldron boil him, but Elain was wearing black…tights? Hose? He didn’t know what they were, and even if he did, he probably couldn’t form a coherent thought in his mind, because he’d never seen Elain quite so…exposed. Those long, slender legs were clad in skin-tight black tights, and there was no escaping the shape of her body, of her lean thighs, of her lovely bare feet and her manicured toes. But what jolted him even more was that she was wearing HIS shirt. One of those shirts that he wore around the house, sparred in, and generally discarded into the laundry hamper when he was done with his exercises. His mind reeled. She was wearing HIS shirt. Why? Gods above, this was the most delicious sight to ever grace his eyes.

Azriel has had many women in his life. Too many females to count. He’s even been with human women, those who dared, and wanted a bit of their own winged Fae experience. He’d seen them naked and prone, had seen them flushed with climaxes, screaming louder than Nyx was currently doing. He’d felt, tasted, touched and filled bodies of every colour and shape. Yet nothing prepared him for the barefoot Elain in her black tights and his shirt. Nothing.

Where was Rhys, for gods’ sake? Where was Feyre? The twins? Servants? Why was he left standing here, with the most desirable and gloriously attired female, all alone? His wings flared involuntarily, his body wanting, yearning for her. Wanting all of her. All of this. Everything that was forbidden to him.

Her braid was loose, honey-coloured strands escaping wantonly and spilling over her shoulder, framing her pale, rosy cheeks.

“Az, you are here!” she exclaimed, eyes widening with what he could only mark as excitement. Maybe even pleasure.

“Good evening,” he tried to sound normal, though his voice felt deep and hoarse and suddenly dropped a couple of octaves. “What is,”

“He lost Brute!” she cried in desperation. “I’ve been looking for fifteen minutes, and I can’t find it! Please,”

“Got it,” he said, tucking Nyx under his arm, like a sack of potatoes.

This was dangerous ground.

 Following their unnecessarily lavish mating ceremony, Cassian and Nesta went on their honeymoon. In Illyria. When Azriel found out, he gagged. Cassian laughed. “You can’t take her somewhere better?” Azriel wondered, shaking his head. “Anywhere is better. The fucking Spring Court is better!” Cassian slapped his shoulder and argued, “Pretty, but deadly. At least to me. I’ll kick the bucket if I spend more than 15 minutes in Spring Court and Nesta will have to bring my dead body back here.” Azriel shrugged, “Might be worth it, if she avoids going to Illyria”. “You are too harsh, brother,” was all Cassian said, though Az felt like he wasn’t harsh enough. Nevertheless, Nesta and Cassian went to Illyria and to everyone’s shock, Nesta loved it! She loved the open spaces, the rugged, wild terrain, the forests and the picturesque lakes. She liked Cassian’s secluded bungalow, which he built himself—actually, the three brothers built it together, back in the day.

One day, there was a country fair celebrating some Illyrian war hero, and Cassian made a date of it. It was a surprise for Nesta, who’d never been to one, and they spent the day wandering from attraction to attraction, eating too much fried food, riding rollercoasters, which made Nesta scream until she was hoarse, and playing games. There was a shooting competition, and Cassian insisted on participating, though he wasn’t an ace with a bow and arrow, but he figured that he was still better than the average Illyrian. He wanted to show off in front of Nesta. Turned out, the average Illyrian was in fact better than the Commander General of the Armies of the Night Court, and Cassian came in third. Third. The prize was a small stuffed bat. Shamefaced, Cassian presented Nesta with the bat, promising to do better next time. So, so much better! Nesta named the bat Brute—after her mate—and upon their return from the honeymoon, she gave the toy to Nyx. And Nyx became obsessed. Brute and Nyx were inseparable and especially after Nyx began teething, leathery Brute came very handy, as Nyx chewed and gnawed on it mercilessly.

Azriel sent his shadows to search for Brute throughout the house, while he went room to room, looking in all the places that Nyx frequented in his walker. Nyx was only nine months old, but he already managed to say a few odd words. There was ‘ma’, “Lana”—which stood for Elain, “no”, and “Boot” or “Oot” or “Boo” which all referred to Brute. Nothing for Rhys yet, much to Rhys’s chagrin. Az got “Ath”, with a lisp. And of course, everyone’s favorite – “ass” for Cass.

“I already looked there,” said Elain, as she dove under an armchair, her tight little bum up in the air, while Azriel was cursing inwardly, unable to tear his eyes off the sight, disregarding Nyx’s slobbering over his arm. Nyx was getting tired of screaming—finally—so he was mostly hiccupping, sniffling and rubbing his eyes with his chubby first.

“I think I got it!” cried Azriel, once the shadows informed him that Brute has been located. He rushed up the stairs, taking three at a time, with Nyx bouncing under his arm and finally found the toy entangled in Nyx’s blanket. The first place Azriel should’ve looked. Both he and Elain were clearly off their game.

Nyx squealed with delight once Brute was safely in his hands and latched on to it with his aching gums. Tears were forgotten. Azriel lightly kissed the top of the baby’s head and then went downstairs.

Elain was awaiting them in the foyer and seeing the placated Nyx, she also gasped with delight, clapping lightly and then…she rushed and kissed Azriel’s cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he just stared at her, a smile on his lips.

“High praise for finding a toy,” he said at last, but Elain only grabbed his hand and threaded her fingers with his.

“No one is home?” he asked softly, and she gave him a knowing look, shaking her head. His thumb gently rubbed her fingers, as they walked to the kitchen.

“You will stay for dinner,” she said. More of an order.

“Yes.”

“We have to feed him,” she nodded towards Nyx.

Without releasing the baby, Azriel rolled up his sleeves and set to work. He washed Nyx’s wet, sticky face first, took out a fresh bib, which was immediately greeted with ‘no bip!”. “Yes, bib,” insisted Azriel, trying to tie it, while Nyx struggled and attempted to tear it off. Elain chuckled under her breath, watching the battle.

“He is like the Attor today!” groaned Azriel, as he finally succeeded in tying the bib, “is this how he always is? His parents need to discipline their damn kid better.”

She laughed.

“Where are they anyway?”

“The opera,” she explained.

Nothing gave Elain more pleasure than experiencing these stolen moments with Azriel.

A few months back, Rhysand, in no uncertain terms explained to her that at this point, a relationship between her and Azriel would be politically disadvantageous and therefore, ill-advised. The silver-tongued High Lord made his arguments clear, but with that irresistible firm gentleness that he employed on everyone, when he wanted something. Elain nodded, a neutral expression plastered on her face, while her heart shuttered, and something cracked in her chest. Whatever Rhysand was saying, the order was clear—she was forbidden from seeking Azriel out.

The ache…the ache inside of her only grew since then. It wasn’t an ache of sadness or despair, for deep down, Elain was absolutely sure that Azriel would find a way. He always did. And she trusted him unconditionally, knowing that nothing would stop him in his pursuit of her. Forbidden or not, they both craved each other with a wild, inexplicable hunger, and Azriel would find a way to circumvent all the restrictions that were placed on them. However, the knowledge did nothing to ease the desire that constantly coursed through her. Seeing him was a most delicious torment, a sweet, lacerating pain that never went away. When she awoke in the morning, she thought of Azriel, and when she went to bed at night, he was her last thought of the day. It was always Azriel.

He sat Nyx in his highchair.

“Are they coming back tonight?” he asked, without looking at her.

She turned away, and busied herself with Nyx’s dinner, mashing a carrot and a turnip together with a fork, mixing in a bit of cream, to make her nephew’s favorite dish.

“They are staying at the Grand Velaris Hotel for the night,” she said quietly. “Feyre just notified me. Rhys wanted to make…a night of it.”

Azriel couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. Elain froze, when she felt him behind her, his enormous looming presence like a coiled string of pure strength and power. His beautiful scarred hand gently wrapped over hers, and they pressed the fork into the vegetables together, neither paying any attention to what they were doing. His breath was warm on the back of her head—actually the top of her head—for he had to crane his neck to lay his cheek against her own, while his other hand wrapped around her hip.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, lips brushing over her ear, just short of kissing.

Absently, she dragged her fingers over the huge scarred hand that rested on her hip, her breath stalling in her chest. She became unbearably hot, heart beating so fast that she was sure that he could hear it.

“Will you stay?”

“Yes.”

His muscle-corded golden-brown arm tugged her closer, and she leaned into him, forgetting everything at once, only aware of this beautiful warrior behind her, as his powerful chest rose and fell against her back.

“Baby, I,” he began, and stopped abruptly, as if fearing that he’d made a mistake.

Baby.

‘Baby’ destroyed her.

She was never ‘baby’ to him before.

She was ‘Elain’ to him, in front of others. Once in a while, usually in Cassian’s presence, it was ‘Ellie’. More of a Cassian thing, but Azriel slipped occasionally and called her that as well. When they were completely alone, however infrequently, he let himself address her as ‘Lainey’. She loved ‘Lainey’. But he never uttered something so endearing as ‘baby’.

She turned around and looked up at him, caged comfortably within those massive arms, his golden-hazel eyes soft and loving. This look Azriel reserved for her alone. In his 539 years, no one, but Elain Archeron was privy to seeing him like this. He was undone. Ruined by this delicate woman who held his heart in her hand, as it burned with ever-present flame for her.

“Lana!” yelled Nyx, reminding them of his presence.

Azriel smirked and shook his head. She grinned and then cupped his face in her palm, as he began kissing her fingers, his hands resting on the counter behind her. For the first time, her plump, delicate breasts pushed into his chest, the material of his shirt providing bare minimum of a barrier, and he loved it, because she loved it. She loved it when he gingerly moved her breasts against his chest, and she pressed them closer into him, a silent invitation for more. More skin, more touch, more breath, more kisses, more of everything. Elain wanted everything. Elain wanted Azriel.

“Baby,” he began again, kissing the inside of her palm, “I like your shirt.”

Her brown eyes sparkled mischievously, and she looked down between their bodies, where they touched and fit together with strange, inexplicable precision, as if carved from the same flesh.

“I like this shirt too,” she assured him.

“I think you should wear it more, my beauty,” he suggested, his soft lips trailing from her wrist, up her forearm. “In fact, I think that you should wear my clothes as frequently as possible.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she admitted, and lightly kissed his chin. Yes, she had to rise on her toes to reach it, but that stunning jawline of his was too irresistible for her to ignore any longer. She kissed the subtly scratchy chin again, and again, and then moved slowly, dragging her lips towards his ear. He tensed against her, his arms pushing against her shoulders, his wings flaring lightly behind him, cocooning the two of them in the velvety darkness.

“But,” she finally wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching her body against his, feeling every bit of him. “I was thinking maybe no clothes at all would be nice as well.”

“I couldn’t disagree,” he winked at her.

“Ath!” insistent drumming pulled them out of their mutual reverie. “Lana!”

“We have to be responsible adults,” she sighed, while Azriel kissed the tip of her nose. “And feed our child.”

“You feed our wayward child,” he decided, “and I will cook dinner.”

“You might very well be the perfect man!” she laughed.

“I might be,” he shrugged nonchalantly, kissing the top of her head and releasing her from his embrace at once.

Forbidden or not, this was going to be a very nice evening.

A very nice evening indeed.

[shinobicyrus]

Meeting for the First Time Again

A short little DS9 fic inspired by @c-rowlesdraws more alien redesign of Dax. Here’s a re-imagining Sisko’s reunion with his old friend.

Besides bearing DS9’s new Science and Medical officers, the USS Bhaskara was offloading much-needed support personnel and medical supplies for both the station and Bajor. With the Enterprise being called away earlier than anticipated, the Bhaskara would likely be the last Federation ship any of them would see for weeks.

Major Kira had accompanied Sisko aboard, and had stood straight-backed and on edge during the formalities between him and the Bhaskara’s captain. Charitably, Sisko figured it might not have been comfortable for her to be stuck in the unfamiliar close quarters of a Federation starship, or it maybe being surrounding by over a hundred sapients of a dozen different species all in their matching, pristine uniforms.

He still hadn’t come to a final verdict with her, yet. Certainly she had no love for the Federation. Hadn’t been at all shy to disclose that fact either, which he couldn’t help but privately admire. It was the kind of refreshingly straightforward attitude that Sisko didn’t encounter as often as he liked, anymore.

At least he knew where they stood. There may never be any friendliness there, but there could at least be a mutual respect, if they didn’t give each other brain damage butting heads all day.

Well. That was what their new doctor was for.

He was human and very young. His blue uniform was freshly replicated, and a medical bag hung off of his shoulder as if he expected to start performing first aid the moment he stepped off the ship. Sisko had read his file. Doctor Julian Subatoi Bashir had the highest qualifications of any medical practitioner he’d ever seen, and the academic accolades to have his pick of duty assignments.

Instead of research or a ship’s physician, he chooses a barely-functional Cardassian monstrosity on the furthest fringes of Federation space.

No one makes that choice unless they have something to prove. That never boded well. Sisko could only hope the few weeks tending to a people trying to recover from decades of slavery and genocide will give the good doctor a good dose of sobering reality.

Thankfully, Captain T’Shel was vulcan and took zero offense when Sisko politely declined their offer of a light tea in their stateroom. With the amount of work still needed to get DS9 up and running, it was only Logical he take his officers and return to work as soon as possible.

Their disembarkation went without incident, though Sisko half-expected the airlock to jam again. Next to him, Doctor Bashir took in the grim Cardassian architecture of the promenade with that eagerness unique to academy graduates on their first assignment; his eyes sparkled with adventure and Sisko marveled that he himself had ever been that young. 

DS9’s Science officer was more sedate, flowing over the tall rim of the airlock on many legs with a smooth, liquid grace. Two pairs of stubby but strong limbs pushed her long body upright and brought her flat, vaguely amphibian head at about his chest-level, passably mimicking a biped.

“Commander.” Major Kira looked uncertainly at her charges. “If you’d like me to give these two a tour of the station – ”

“You and Doctor Bashir go ahead, Major.” He turned to the trill and saw her already looking at him. The face of a stranger. Still, he smiled at her. “I’m afraid I have to put Lieutenant Dax to work right away.”

Dax nodded, unperturbed at being put to work so soon after a long starship journey. Not even time to throw her pack into her new quarters.

Major Kira for one just seemed relieved. The sidelong glance she gave Dax made it clear how unused she was to dealing with non-humanoids. Sisko couldn’t bring himself to judge – all of her interactions with off-worlders before now had involved Cardassians.

Before she could herd him away, Doctor Bashir half-ran past Kira to Dax’s side, stopping them from leaving. Sisko was too surprised – and too curious of Dax’s reaction – to chide him.

This time.

“Jadzia!” He adjusted the strap of his bag, completely heedless of the disgruntled glare Major Kira had leveled at him like a charging phaser. “I was thinking. Maybe we could…” He cocked his head, boyish smile shy but still precocious. “Get together later. For dinner?”

Dax did not answer immediately, as if he...she were weighing the question. As one second, then another ticked by without a response, Sisko watched the fear creep into Bashir’s eyes as it slowly dawned on him that he was holding up his commanding officer. Sisko said nothing to add or alleviate his anxiety, and Bashir stammered, looking to him and then back to Dax. “O-o-or a drink?”

Dax blinked slowly. Her mouth curled into a shape a human would find friendly. Her voice was thick, melodious and warm like rain on a muggy day. “I’d be delighted.”

Three words was evidently all it took to leave Doctor Bashir a dumb, grinning blob of hormones stuck in place in front of the airlock. Dax and Sisko left him to be pried off the deck by the Major.

They walked side-by-side down through the promenade. Sisko kept his strides small so the four shorter limbs on Dax’s lower body could keep up without much difficulty.

While trills could stand upright just fine, walking without all eight limbs was another matter; like expecting a human to hop around on one foot all day. Any Federation-raised citizen wouldn’t think twice about trill walking past low to the ground, but Curzon had stubbornly mastered the art.  

‘Gotta look them in the eye, Benjamin. Think I could have gotten anything done at Khitomer crawling around the Klingons’ pointy boots?’

Watching her walk was what did it. The dignified posture, head bobbing and both pairs of upper-arms clasped behind her back. It was all Curzon, but eerily incongruous. Like looking into the mirror and seeing the wrong color uniform.

Sisko leaned down to ask, “He’s a little young for you, isn’t he?”

“Trills mature a little faster than humans, but we’re close in Standard,” Dax said. “He’s twenty-seven and I’m –”

“Three-hundred twenty-seven?”

“You know I stopped counting, Benjamin.”

“How convenient for you.”

Dax chortled a bubbly trill laugh. “What was that human expression you told me once? About youth and old age?”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

“A pitfall I’m glad to have avoided,” Dax grinned.

“You’re dodging the question.”

She stroked her whiskers like Curzon used to do when he was pretending to be a forgetful old man. When...she was pretending. “And what question would that be?”

“Whether the man knows he’s chasing after someone who’s technically older than his great-grandparents.

“Of course he knows,” Dax’s upper body stood a tad straighter. “He finds it fascinating. He’s never met a joined species before.”

“‘Fascinated’ isn’t the word I’d have chosen to describe it.”

“It’s the spots. And the arms,” She raised two of them to fend off his raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry Benjamin, I’ve been around humans long enough to be able to spot a harmless crush. He’ll sigh and pine at the ‘unattainable older woman’ shield he put around me until he gets over it.”

“I’ll trust your expertise on the matter,” Sisko said wryly. “While we’re on the subject, what’s your opinion of him?”

“My opinion?”

“You've trained your share of clueless ensigns and terrorized enough trill initiates...”

“That’s true,” Dax agreed. “I happen to remember one young cadet who swore he’d be captain of a starship by thirty.”

“And an admiral by forty.”

“How is that going for you?”

“Further along than Cal. And you’re changing the subject.”

Those whiskers, again. “The subject being?”

“Come on now, Dax. You two were stuck on the Bhaskara for three weeks. That’s more than long enough for you to get a good read on him.”

“Is this an official request from my superior officer?”

Superior officer. Curzon. That…was going to take some getting used to. “If it has to be, but I’d rather be talking with an old friend whose opinion I trust.”

Dax looked pensively at patterns on the deck plating as they walked. “He’s...young. Eager. Brilliant and knows it, but even the arrogance feels like an affectation. Almost obligatory. At least, it’s flimsy enough that I doubt it will last long outside of a competitive Academy environment.”

“He specifically asked to be here.”

Dax’s hum was like rippling water. “He told me that as well.”

“That sounds like a man with something to prove.” Sisko didn’t hide the disapproval in his voice. From another officer under his command, maybe. Not from Dax.

“Yes, but it’s to himself first and foremost. I’m not a counselor Benjamin, so I couldn’t tell you why, but  I’m confident his rough edges will be smoothed over with little bit of time, wisdom, and real-world experience. And,” she added with a thin smile. “The guiding hand of a wise mentor.”

“I hope I can live up to your example.”

“Oh, I meant me. You’ll do too, I suppose,” Dax winked. “I taught you everything you know.”

For the first time since he boarded that godforsaken Cardassian station, Ben Sisko laughed. “Not everything, Old Man.”

[acatpersonapparently]

@plzdonthitmewithyourcar and I were discussing Jemtoria and Tuggoffelees on board game night. I'd like to present y'all with a masterpost of our genius:

Boardgame night is dangerous, starts with Tuggoffelees on one team and Jemtoria on the other but they usually have to switch the teams because Misto and Vic get into ugly sibling arguments so the siblings have to be on one team, Jem and Tugs on the other (they usually win)

Jem and Tugger are an unstoppable force. Vic and Misto are both too competitive to have fun.

They occasionally slip up cause Misto will be like "Can I JUST have this??" and Tugger is instinctively like okay and Jemima is too nice to argue and is like "yeah, they're already so far behind"

That's the most scary part, Tugger and Jem together are the luckiest people are earth

They even win trivia by cheer luck:

Misto: the question is-

Tugger: I'm feeling D

Jem: let's pick D :D

Misto: I HAVEN'T EVEN FINISH THE QUESTION AND *CHUCKS CARD* THEY'RE FUCKING RIGHT GODDAMMIT

Vic: *pouring herself more wine*

Vic and Misto are here to win and are infuristed because winning means nothing to Jem and Tugger yet they win every time. They're just raging playing Sorry! cause this game is "SUPPOSED TO BE RANDOM" but Jem and Tugger have 3 pegs in home and they have 1 at home and 1 that keeps getting sent back before they get it around the board

They win in twister against two highly skilled ballerinas despite one of them being disproportionally tall and the other is the tiniest cat in the clan, BUT SOMEHOW!

(Victoria: I CAN TURN MYSELF INTO A PRETZEL!!! AND HE CAN DO THE SPLITS??? HOW???

Jem: I don't know I just put right hand on red relaxed :) )

Cards Against Humanity is always a slaughter house because Vic and Misto are trying to do mental 4D chess picking cards and Jem and Tugger are just picking at random or just whatever makes them giggle. ("Heh, I picked it cause it said PENIS!!! *breaks down giggling*)

The siblings slam down the chess board and Tugger and Jem are like... Discussing how the pieces even move while Vic and Misto talk Russian chess strats and then they win and Misto throws the board and Vic starts chugging wine and begging how the fuck did they do that and Jemima is like "I thought the horse was pretty" and Tugger's like "the Bishop meant I could tell the church what to do" and Misto sets the board on fire while Victoria starts drunk sobbing "What The Fuck???" And Jem and Tugger are like "Same time, next week? What snacks should we have?"

It's gotten to the point where Jemima and Tugger's combined luck brings the competitive siblings closer together. They are now making up their own games with their own rules designed to give them different advantages, except Tugger and Jemima still somehow always come out victorious

The siblings meet up to practice the games and Tugger and Jem usually take the time to go out for coffee and be like: "gosh, aren't we lucky? Aren't they lovely?" Misto and Vic are busy carving like "FUCK TUGGER & JEM, VICTORY!!!" into their arms

Tugger and Jem: they're so smart and creative coming up with these games. We should make nachos this week

Misto and Vic: *calling upon the dark arts to bring them luck and good fortune*

Misto and Vic show up in matching team jackets for luck and mental unity and Jem and Tugger are like "wow so beautiful" and they show up in their own next week and the siblings just bang their heads into the table

Victoria and Misto's are like a custom 500$ track suit with embroidery and their family crest and Jemima and Tugger are in two bedazzled denim jackets with a handpainted letter and pictures that kinda look like the same thing but you can definitely tell Jem made Tugger's and Tugger made Jem's

Jem and Tugger: *visibly shedding glitter*

Vic and Misto: *pristine, perfect, ironed out any wrinkles before putting them on*

Tugger and Jemima are always infuriatingly optimistic and encouraging towards Misto and Vic "I'm sure you'll win this time!" "You're so much better at __" "You'll get it next time!" "You almost had us!"

Vic and Misto: YOU'RE RIGHT *turns into blubbering messes* why can't we wiiiinnn

Jem and Tugger: *comforts them, bring them to the couches and wraps them up and turns on the night's movie* there there

(Just... couple's board game night, y'know?)

[whatudottu]

Alright so, today I learnt that Arburian Pelarotas have fur (it’s all the white, though it’s short), so aside from that cursed bit of information, I wanna talk about them, their survival and also in part Vulpinic Tortugans.

So, first off all, let’s acknowledge the obvious. Arburia has been destroyed by The Great One, which would’ve killed anything living on its surface, but unlike humans, surely the Pelarota are aware of interplanetary shenanigans, right? Official word is, the universe is huge and there must be some Arburian Pelarota around still, especially enough that even the worshippers aren’t all that shocked to still see one.

Taking an idea from @omnipedia inspired by one of their recent asks, I believe that, when people realised that the big tick was virtually impossible to defeat (despite the fact that Cannonbolt did just that), they had issued a planetary evacuation. Where did they evac to? Their colonies of course!

But wait, colonies? Let me explain.

In doing at least a little bit of research so I don’t pull an Omniverse and retcon anything, it seems as though Arburian Pelarota’s have been referenced as being Tortugans, demonstrated in a very interesting pop-up panel in Game Over. Now you’ve probably already noted that Vulpinic Tortugans share the common name, and and I’m sure you’re aware, these species are related.

What I’m getting at here is, if there is already a distinction made between Vulpinic and Arburian Tortugans, why not have other strains of family on other colonies? Sure, perhaps each of the species themselves has a different secondary name (a new evolutionary generation you might say), but given the information we have been given, I believe the common ancestor of these colonies were Tortugans.

Moreover, the wiki (at the very least) says that these Vulpinic Tortugans are more ‘primative’ than their Arburian, and assumably other colony, relatives. I wonder, does this actually mean primative, or does this specifically mean that their lives aren’t as pristine and civilised as the colonies, not because they aren’t intelligent, but because Vulpin itself is destructive to rules and it’s people need to adapt and change faster than a city ever could.

Alrighty, let’s walk through what happened.

Tortugans, one of the earliest species to engage in not only space travel, but even space colonisation in the known universe (ironically, the reboot supports this with the state of modern Arburian education), engage on an expedition to expand their territories. Whether it’s out of need for materials, desire for more land under their grasp or out of spite and competition (almost the least likely, but who knows what evolutionary behaviours are lost or gained from generation to generation), they spread out across their solar system.

Colonies with planets of similar biospheres as Arburia (or their original planet, if it weren’t Arburia) would’ve had the most success in adapting to the environment and have settled firmly on their respective planet. However, within this same solar system, Vulpin orbits, and the colonists sent to it had it hard. Maybe they had a mentality that prevented them from turning back, maybe something something colony ship crashed or just generally had no materials to safely maintain, but regardless, they remained Vulpin bound and colony unsuccessful.

Overtime perhaps the Tortugans had perhaps attempted to make friendly with the ancestors of the Vulpimancers. Maybe some had tried and failed to domesticate these ancestors because they too fell under the belief that they were merely animals rather than their own sapient beings with their own culture. Maybe some had succeeded, working to benefit the ancestors so that they may help the stranded Tortugans. With two sapient beings working together, the troubles of the wild lessen and the rewards of cooperation become mutually beneficial.

Remember what seemed to be an off comment about Pelarota fur? Yeah, apparently that’s sensory fur and with that, they can see without eyes. Do you know who else sees without eyes? That’s right, Vulpimancers, baby! Despite the implications that Tortugans are... well, turtles, it doesn’t mean that they are reptiles (it could just very well reference their shells). And that pop-up trivia? Yeah, it described that Tortugans were made to spin, as their shells secrete a chemical that reduces friction.

This means that Vulpinic Tortugans would probably not loose the ability to roll and may perhaps increase the effectiveness of their sensory fur. Who knows, maybe convergent evolution occurs and this sect of Torgans may develop specialised sensory organs as a result of their exposure to the Vulpin environment.

Primitive in this perspective may mean that, while reverting back to more animalistic and wild behaviours, the lost colonists of Vulpin have not lost their intelligence. Whether or not they lose the ability of sight due to the pitch black of Vulpin as new sensory organs increase effectiveness or consists of more rods than cones for nocturnal viewing, the planet of Vulpin was exposed to the concept of written language, the knowledge of the universe and the interplanetary voice that Vulpimancer and earlier generations never much cared for. Of course, the Vulpinic Tortugans were the primary users of the written language, but it’s typically etched or even akin to braille so that the blind Vulpimancers can actually read it, if they so choose to.

It had only been fairly recently that Vulpin has become an interplanetary dumping ground, you know, in the scale of the universe and general planetary lifespan and everything, but while the Vulpimancers are forced to change everything that their ancestors had to be evolved to do, the Vulpinic Tortugans attempt to the best of their efforts to reverse the irreversible. The remnants of their ancestors, the broken colony ship and the failed attempts at civilisation, lay amongst the dump, but knowledge can be found to those who are determined enough to uncover it. Vulpin may never be the world that it once was, but with the help of the long since evolved Tortugans, maybe a better, different future can be made.

When did this become a fanfiction? I don’t know but that last sentence had probably had its effect lessened by this comment so, woop. Anyway, I have quite a few thoughts about Vulpimancers, Vulpin and how they both are viewed in not-so-thinly-veiled racism... speciesism? At the very least xenophobia, but you get me. They’re in the Omnitrix for a reason.

[mihidecet]

Sbi&co D&D AU: Friendships and Rivalries

Surprise! Early posting ahahah Simply because I felt like it <3

I do hope you’ll like this! Final chapter before the action really starts, ideally? That is what should happen unless I go off in a tangent ... who knows ahahah

A special thank you to Ranch, Sky and Ozzie from the DnD Discord, who are the people responsible for the last part of the chapter <3

The first time he sees him, it takes him a moment to register who he's looking at. 

To be fair, the amount of people around them is incredibly high, everyone moving in and out of the room to check out who their teammates will be, voices raising in calls and shouts and gleeful yells - so, basically, hell on earth. 

There is nowhere in the world that Techno would want to be any less. If he could leave that instant, he would. But they had decided to accompany Tubbo, Niki and Fundy, who were going to find out the name of their future companion for the next months or so, and it is a very good occasion to scout out the competition. 

So there Techno is, leaning slightly against Phil - not for comfort, why would anyone ever think that - while his eyes scan the crowd, trying to focus on his self-appointed task instead of the uncomfortable feeling rising in his gut.

There are some individuals that he thinks are going to cause problems. The academy students are a given: one may think that lack of outside knowledge and adventuring experience would make them a weak target. Those who think that way have evidently never heard of the academy - which was built and is currently ran by a former adventurer - and have somehow missed the endless training fields just outside the academic buildings. 

But there are also some adventurers that seem to know what they're doing; Phil taps him once or twice to nod towards them. Although to be fair, he doubts that relying only on first impressions is a good thing - their group surely doesn't look like a competent one with Tubbo and Tommy excitedly calling out random names from the board. 

Then, his eyes catch onto green skin. Half-orcs are definitely not that uncommon, especially when in a sea of adventurers, but. It's a half-orc with an axe that seems to be as big as himself, its metal shining over the crowd, helped also by the fact that its owner is definitely taller than average.

So his eyes linger: the signs of Calvin's training are not that evident if you don't know where to look, but Dream has left the nest for so little, and Techno trained with the elf for so long ... It's all in the posture, the almost lazy way he places himself in the world, which highly contrasts with the way his muscles are tense and his shoulders are set. The pretense of relaxation is something that is very dear to Calvin, because it either gets your opponent overly confident, or it makes them extremely irritated and therefore more prone to making mistakes. 

Dream is surely going to be an obstacle in the tournament; him and the short human that's gripping at his arm and shaking it, who'd clad in outfits that resemble almost too closely those of Master Fruitberries. 

Techno lightly elbows Phil's side, distracting him from where he was staring at the row of academics looking down at the groups of adventurers. The druid turns with a small smile, a question in his eyes that is answered when Techno's chin juts out towards the half-orc. 

After a moment - during which Phil's eyes scan the young fighter's form, surely detailing weapons, armour and notable characteristics - he gives a small chuckle.

"So, your infamous rival?" 

Techno huffs, eyes rolling under the hood covering his face - they're not rivals, they were just trained under the same master. There is no sense of rivalry, no feeling of needing to prove himself - certainly not to him, and Calvin hasn't been a part of his life for so long, he doesn't need to confirm the fact that he is definitely better-

His arms cross over his chest without his permission - stupid subconscious movements - and he leans back, further into Phil. He does not care for all … that.

Especially since he has no idea if Dream knows about him - it had seemed so embarrassing to ask Calvin, if he still spoke about "his favourite pupil", "his brightest student", considering how he literally just bailed on him in the middle of the night with no explanation. 

Still, Phil's hand reaches his shoulder, a gentle but firm pressure that forces him to stop curling up into himself while his eyes search him. 

"You're going to be fine. We're going to be fine. We know what we're doing, Jerry." Phil finishes with a chuckle, using for him the fake name they chose to keep their identities hidden. 

It makes Techno snort amusedly, which must have been Phil's objective with the way he's smiling at that moment, but it also eases his worries a little. 

It's just another enemy he'll have to face during the tournament. 

Nothing to worry about.

The first time Dream sees Techno, he doesn't realise it. 

He’s walking to his own team’s training field, talking enthusiastically with Sapnap about their new teammates. He's still reeling from the fact that they'll be teaming up with George: a part of him worrying about the endless hours spent annoying the wizard, hoping it won't get in the way of their teamwork - he doesn't know yet that the two of them were chosen, that George hand picked them from a crowd of endless adventurers. George doesn't plan on telling them, but that is a whole other subject.

Still, Dream sees a colourful group of people lead by what seems to be a young tiefling - eyes narrowing with worry and confusion, because … a child? In the tournament? - and doesn’t take note of the hooded giant whose ear is being talked off by said kid. 

And even if he does, his eyes do not linger: it’s probably another overly-dramatic rogue anyway. 

Nothing to worry about.

That very same morning, Tommy had woken up with a spring in his step. 

Finally they were going to have an actual proper place to train in, for what was basically the first time since he'd joined this group, and he couldn't wait to try it out. He'd spent so much time talking with Techno about their plans, since the shifter had taken it upon himself to do a bit of digging to find out what the tournament was probably going to entail; finally they could put all that planning into motion.

Tommy had, surprisingly, been one of the first people to reach the main downstairs area, snagging a table for the whole team while Techno and Niki grabbed chairs for all of them. The three of them started eating, talking strategy together while the rest of the team slowly trickled downstairs. Some more awake than others, with the notable mention of Tubbo, who had never been a morning person and had therefore plopped down on his chair, head pillowed over his arms as he waited for the mug of coffee that Tommy ordered for him the instant he saw his best friend dragging his feet down the stairs. 

To be fair, everyone in the whole tavern seemed to be a bit sleepy, since they'd all stayed up very late - probably to celebrate the team formation announcement, but adventures rarely needed a proper reason to party. 

The last one to join them had been Fundy, who had half ran down the stairs and almost smacked into a dragonborn on his way to their table - slowing down as he reached them to pretend he hadn't been in a hurry, as if nobody had been watching him stumbling over his feet. 

"Oh, for the love of the gods above, are you still talking about training? What nerds."  The mage had groaned, leaning back into his chair with a chuckle, ignoring the irritated look Tommy sent him. 

"You literally carry around a book that's as heavy as you are!" Tommy protested, gesturing towards the mostly pristine tome half-hidden under the shifter's dark jacket, but Fundy simply waved dismissively at him. 

"Aren't you worried we'll copy your strategies, too? We're supposed to fight against each other!" Fundy commented with a coy look, raising an eyebrow inquisitively towards Tommy as he raised his mug to his lips to take a rather dramatic sip. 

Before Tommy could find a good retort to that, Techno's low voice raised over the gentle chatter of their table. 

"Brave of you to think I don't already know multiple ways of crushing you to the ground." 

The deadpan in Techno's tone, combined with his words, had Fundy instantly choking on his drink - the sound of his coughing covered by Phil's wheeze on Tommy's left while Niki tried to pat him on the back, stifling her own laughter behind her hand. 

Still, in the end that is what they agreed on: they would train separately, avoid helping each other more than necessary, and they decided to ban tournament talk during breaks. For all that Tommy wanted to spend all the time they had preparing, he was also aware that this was definitely a long process, and rushing into it would only make them all more tired.

But on the other hand, they had a week to spar and practice, so they were definitely planning on making the most of it. 

After breakfast they all returned to their rooms, gathered what they needed, and then hurried to the fields, with the promise of meeting back again only once the day was over. 

Which lead Tommy to his current situation. 

What the fuck are you doing to these poor eggs?! The indignation in the voice of his patron is palpable, the demon's words resonating in his head for a moment due to the sheer loudness of it. 

Tommy huffs and rolls his eyes, continuing to move the eggs around on the metal plate with the wooden spatula Phil had carved out of a thin branch. The pained noise his patron lets out when he stabs into a yolk reminds him of a whining puppy. 

Why, why, why?! Just leave them alone, let them get nice and crispy! Don't you humans know how to cook?

Just for that, Tommy breaks another egg open and instantly breaks it apart, a part of him relishing in the desperate "no!" that follows. 

"I know how to cook, bitch! Why would I fry them, this is so much better!" Tommy grumbles under his breath, moving his other hand to the underside of the metal pan to strengthen the flame. Wilbur shoots him a curious look from where he's leaning against the tree, fixing one of the bandages around his fingers which had gotten loose from all the playing he'd been doing that morning. 

Why would you scramble perfectly good eggs?! Tommy lets out a frustrated groan, the hunger in his stomach doing wonders for how quickly he's able to get riled up, and he waves the spatula wildly in the air - thankfully, years and years of training prevent him from burning instantly the wooden tool in his hand, otherwise that would have been quite awkward. 

"I like my eggs scrambled! Suck it up, this is what I'm getting!" He yells out, which immediately prompts the other to look over towards him. His patron huffs out in his mind, and Tommy can picture him crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. 

Alright, whatever, your loss, bitch.

Tommy doesn't notice Wilbur standing up from his spot under the leaves, but he does notice the nudge in his side as the tiefling stands next to him. 

"Is good ol' cousin being a dick?" He asks, looking down at the eggs while Tommy snorts in laughter. 

"Yeah." NO! the two of them answer at the same time. Only, Tommy's the only one Wilbur can hear, so the young human definitely wins that conversation. 

"He's always been a picky asshole about food." Wilbur comments, absolutely unaware of how the demon in Tommy's head whines and starts protesting - further proving the tiefling's point. 

"In fact, you know what? -"Wilbur's face suddenly looks almost scary with how his grin turns menacing "- I have plenty of stories I could tell you if he keeps bothering you-" 

I am realizing right now I have something so very important to do don't wait for me see you in a couple of years bye-

Tommy's patron says in what seems to be a single breath of air, words slurring together and mixing with each other before the presence in Tommy's brain disappears. 

The young warlock blinks, stunned into silence at the suddenness of his patron's escape; a part of him wonders what memories Wilbur has of their younger selves that made the demon flee so suddenly.

Still, then thing is … now that he's gone, there's nothing stopping him from asking, right?

"So?? Go on, tell me everything!" The presence is, of course, back in an instant, and if Tommy was concentrating he'd be able to hear his patron physical flailing as he struggles against the intangible in order to stop Tommy.

DO NOT-

Fundy likes the new guy. He's extremely funny, that is for sure, but on top of that he is smart enough to keep up with his ramblings on team composition, and has been able to get along with the three of them quite easily. 

Fundy still considers a win the fact that he wasn't too weirded out by their less than stellar introduction, but in retrospect he shouldn't have worried. Quackity is cool. 

Or at least he seems to be, but Fundy will take it - he knows, despite what his mind likes to make him believe, that he can rely on others without risking too much, that he won't be ditched at the last second and left to pick up pieces-... 

But this is not the best time to be thinking about the past. 

Fundy turns another page on his notebook, the only book in his possession that's ragged and not well kept, and starts tracing down pathlines - the four of them have been talking about possible ways of getting around the obstacle course, since three out of the four of them are not that used to scaling buildings, and Niki can't really help all of them constantly, it would only slow them down as a whole. 

But before he can say anything, there's a sudden gasp from his left side as Tubbo darts upwards and starts running towards the edge of the training field - jumping straight into the arms of his best friend. 

"If you have a spell to make yourself faster, that could still be useful. The less people need help the better!" Quackity comments, bringing Fundy's attention back to the task at hand; the mage nods, now a bit absent mindedly as he watches the rest of their team trickle in their personal training area. He is suddenly more aware of the tiredness in his body and of the overall late hour. They have been working hard all day. They probably need a rest. 

Quackity, sitting in front of him, turns around to follow his eyesight with a questioning look and … Fundy knows he's not the best at noticing things about people, he's usually more interested in magic and how objects work, but he does notice Quackity's whole body flinch and the way his shoulders are suddenly ten times tenser than before. 

A bad feeling settles in his gut as questions start swirling around in his mind - he seemed cool, what is the problem now, and will it get in the way? - and he watches almost petrified as Quackity turns back towards him, two shades paler and eyes unfocused as he seems to be almost shrinking in on himself. 

The bard's body gives another jolt as if he's suddenly hit with a shocking spell as his eyes fall on Fundy's face - who, to be quite honest, was getting kinda worried - and then he blinks, as if coming back to himself with a small nervous chuckle. 

"You good, man?" Fundy asks tentatively, watching as Quackity shoots another look to the rest of the group only to turn back immediately when he notices that Phil is staring at the two of them - thanks, Phil, way to go. 

"I- I, yeah! Of course!" Quackity lies, evidently too shaken up to try and make it believable, but thankfully all Fundy has to do is level him with an unimpressed stare for him to crack - which is not a good sign, but Fundy will take what he can get. 

The bard bends forward, bringing a hand up to hide the movement of his lips from the rest of the group. 

"You never told me you hang out with Technoblade!" Quackity yells with a whisper, an edge of panic and urgency in his tone that makes Fundy burst out laughing, head thrown back as he clutches at his stomach. 

“Oh yeah! He’s a friend, a pal.” Fundy answers, waving around his notebook dismissively but unable to suppress the grin on his face: he hasn't had a chance to do this yet, this "I'm friends with one of the most famous killers for hire in the whole region" reveal, and he must admit he's been looking forward to it. The way Quackity's arms flail around in a mix of shock, anger and fear is definitely worth it.

“You’re friends with Technoblade?!” The bard whispers in panic, eyes wide, and Fundy is chuckling, lost in an internal debate on whether to double down on the traumatizing or to reassure the man, when he realises that Phil has been approaching them. The moment the elf kneels down on the grass, Quackity also notices him and jumps about a mile in the air. Phil, nonplussed, offers him a hand in greeting with a bright smile on his face. 

“Heya, mate! I don’t think we had a chance to properly meet yet, but I’m Phil. I love your songs.” Quackity, as Fundy has found out in the short time he's known him, does not know how to handle honest compliments - it's something the two of them have in common -, so he instantly flushes a bit, scratching the back of his neck self consciously. 

“I-uh- thank you! I really appreciate it!” Fundy sees his eyes subconsciously stray towards Wilbur, which makes him realise that it's not only Techno that has fame and renown; he wonders for a moment if Quackity's Techno-induced anxiety is also related to the fact that wherever the Blade goes, Wilbur Soot is always there with him - the Golden Bard, one, if not the best storyteller in the region. 

Phil's eyes follow to where Quackity seems to be timidly staring, and gives a small chuckle, making the bard's head snap back towards him.

“Don’t worry, he’s a big fan too.” Quackity sputters for a moment, rambled protests spilling from his mouth, but Phil merely laughs and pats his back, standing back up and offering one hand to each of them to help them stand up.

“Come on, we’re going to wash up and get dinner. You all deserve some rest."

[ibelieveindragons141]

Ooo you want Diego prompts!! Feel free to completely ignore if you don’t like but I’ve always imagined Diego with a super protective reader? Like maybe where Reginald is being a dick (like the dinner in s2) and reader is like, aw hell no, and just effing takes him down? Basically where reader gets to be the defensive one and Diego gets to be the soft one ❤️❤️❤️

Thanks, Eight. Anytime, Two.

Diego hargreeves x reader

Word count: 786

Warnings: None!

Dinner time was the worst part of the day, easily. No competition whatsoever. It was even worse than the training you had to do to perfect your invisibility.

You were sitting between Five and Two, pushing your dinner around on your plate, watching Klaus try to roll a joint under the table.

“Number two!” Reginald’s stern voice cut through the uncomfortable silence.

You felt Two tense beside you.

“Y-yes?”

“What did you achieve in training today?”

He remained silent, eyes darting around the room in panic. You leaned over and whispered “Picture the words in your head, Two.”

He gave you a jerky nod and said, “I-I hit every t-target but one.”

You gave his knee a supportive squeeze under the table, and glared at Reginald.

“Yes.” He sounded.... mournful? “All but one. And why didn’t you hit the one, Number Two?”

“I just m-missed it.”

“Just missed it,” he mused.

Diego was practically shaking from embarrassment and fear. Enough was enough.

“Do you have a point?” You asked, earning an incredulous stare from One and an impressed grin from Five.

He regarded you for a moment. “Is there something you’d like to say, Number Eight?”

“Yes, actually, there is.”

“Eight, don’t,” Diego tugged on your blazer sleeve but you shook him off.

“Stop picking on Two! He works so hard in training and easily puts in more effort than Luther-“

“Hey!”

“-but you still talk to him like he’s nothing! It’s not fair, so stop.”

No one spoke for a long minute until Reginald broke the silence with a bored sounding, “And do you have a point, Number Eight?”

You slammed your fist down on the table loudly, making Seven jump.

“Yes! Stop treating us like we aren’t worthy of respect or praise because we are.”

“She does have a point,” Klaus chimed in, his head tiled back to stare at the ceiling.

“You claim to be our father, so start acting like it! If you keep on treating us this way, we’ll-“

“You’ll what?” His voice had an edge to it now. Now everyone was watching the two of you intently- even Ben looked up from his book.

You knew you had to choose your next words very carefully.

Calmly and diplomatically, you said, “Diego didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. It was wrong of you. That’s all.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You are dismissed, Number Eight. Be downstairs for training at five thirty a.m. sharp tomorrow.”

You nodded and got up, making sure your chair scraped the wooden floor harshly, leaving a white scar along its pristine surface. Then you stormed off to your room.

Later that evening, there was a soft knock on your door.

“Come in.”

Two’s face peered around the door. “Eight?”

“Hey, what’s up?” You patted the empty space beside you on your bed.

He sat down and twiddled with his fingers. He was nervous.

“Two?”

“Y-you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

“At dinner. Getting mad at dad like that..... he’s gonna punish you for it.”

You scoffed, “Let him. I don't regret it, I should have done it sooner. I can’t believe I beat Five to it.”

He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “You don’t have to defend me. I’m strong, I can take it.”

You sighed and took his hands, stilling his fingers. “I know you are, Two. But the thing is, you don’t have to be. Not all the time. It’s okay to lean on someone else sometimes, it makes us human.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but smiled all the same. He rested his head on your shoulder and let out a small laugh, “Did you see the look on his face?”

You snorted, “I know right! I thought steam was gonna come out of his ears or something.”

He let out a real laugh at that. It was such a happy sound, one you wished to hear more often.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes. But then sound of Grace’s footsteps sounded from the other end of the hall.

“You’d better get going, I don’t think he’d be very forgiving if you’re not in bed tonight.” You said, giving Two a gentle nudge.

Just before he shut your door, he turned back and met your e/c eyes with his dark, sincere ones. “Thanks, Eight.”

You smiled, “Anytime, Two.”

A/n: Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)

[nikkywrites]

hand in marriage prompt

Prompt: “Explain how you eldest child of the kingdom’s rulers, disguised yourself as a suitor and fought for your own hand in marriage in a competition, and won” by @writing-prompt-s

Minor spelling/grammar edits.

*****

Your father’s hands shake behind the podium when he announces the competition. It is an age old custom, one that has fallen out of practice but one that is being revived in an attempt to win back the people’s favor.

They are on the verge of a revolution, a coup. Granting people a chance at the throne is the only way to settle them, keep peace.

Disaster will strike if any of them take the throne.

You’re sitting pretty at his side, smiling demurely at the crowds before you like your mother taught you. Heat swells in your palms as you listen to the barely-even tone of your father’s voice.

The crowd cheers jovially, each hoping that they will be the one to take the throne. His speech ends and you all retreat back to the castle, your youngest brother tugging at your skirts with wide-eyes, wondering why your father’s shoulders collapsed down as soon as he was out of sight of the public.

“It’s all right, John,” you soothe him, a burning determination taking root in your chest. “I’ll fix this.”

You pry his fingers off and pass him to his caregiver, and he goes off to change out of the stifling clothes. You jog up your father with skirt bunched in your fists.

“Father,” you speak conversationally, ever wary of prying ears and slowing to match his pace. “Would it be all right if I entered a person of my choosing into the competition?”

His eyes spark like lightning when he looks at you, frowns. “That defeats the purpose,” he says, although you recognize careful royal-bound wording when you hear it. “You cannot choose your groom. It is too risky.”

“I won’t be choosing anyone,” you reply, nodding. “Stack the odds against them, if you must, but the others will be invigorated knowing that they are not the one in my favor.”

He mulls over your words, eyes running over the expansive halls. “I do not choose who makes it in,” his eyes settle forwards and he avoids looking at you. “But the Gamemaker will be having a luncheon with us the day after next.”

Being royal has taught you many things — the order of silverware, how to smile in the face of political ruin, how to word insults like compliments and how to decode the unspoken.

You stumble a step and fan your face. “I’ve been feeling a little warm, lately.” Your stride falters and fails to match his, dragging you behind as you tug at the tight wrap of your corset. “Must I be present at the luncheon?”

“I’ll make the servants aware that you’ll be retired to your rooms.”

He continues on to whatever he’s going — most likely to plan out the competition stages, speak with the Gamemaker to begin choosing eligible men. You turn and walk to your rooms, gait long and even.

There’s a hidden drawer in your closet. Hidden behind the puffiest of your dresses, there is a shelf of plainer clothes, borish pants and loose-fitting shirts. Peasant clothes. Boy clothes. A stack of caps that hide the length of your hair and the pristine golden sheen of it.

They’re not the clothes you go to change into, instead sliding into your riding clothes and tying your hair away from your face in an updo the public would gasp at the messiness of.

For appearances, you’re supposed to be regulated to your room, playing sick. You sneak into the stables and to a young guard you’ve sort of befriended who works there. He has his own horse, a gangly mare named Sandy that doesn’t compare to the royal-bred horses, but she’s sweet and she’s fast and that’s enough for her to stay.

She’s the horse you practice hard riding on. You’re taught proper side saddle riding from your tutor, but the guard has taught you how to gallop across a field while making yourself a small target. He teaches you how men ride horses.

Men like the ones who will compete for your hand in a week’s time.

After riding, you practice archery. You’re strained, and your fingers shake, but if you can hit a bullseye like this, it’ll be easier when you have a steady hand.

During luncheon, you sneak out of your room and switch a name from the jar. It’s a boy’s name, completely ambiguous and too common to pinpoint to a specific house on a week’s notice. It is one that’s carefully picked, and when they are announced at the end of the week, you don’t smile any more or less for that name than you do the others.

Thankfully, you’re not obligated to be present, and, even if you were, you have a loyal maid who is similar in feature, enough to fool anyone at a distance. You keep up your charade of sickness, while you slip on your boyish clothes, dusted brown from when you had a maid rub it in the dirt. Only those who lived in the palace had pristine white on their clothes. The leather covers it up quite well, though.

There are three legs to the completion. Riding, and mounted archery in the first, to emulate a hunt, although the targets stand still. The second leg is battle tactics, a game to test one’s strategic thinking, how they would manage armies in the face of war. The third is a fight among those who remain.

The competition is hard.

It’s supposed to be, of course, they’re competing for your hand and your father’s crown. That doesn’t make it any easier, but you have an advantage they don’t. You’ve been training, and that guard is a good teacher, or maybe you’re just a fast learner.

But you outrace and outshoot them in the first leg, grinning cockily and fighting the urge to blow a kiss to the losers.

Of the twenty men who joined, you among them, sixteen pass the first test. The war game is where many fail, underestimating a threat or losing too many troops. That one is easy for you, effortless. The number of men left is halved.

In the final part, most of them want your head. You realize that you should have held back some, in previous matches, to not make yourself such a large target, but it is too late now. It’s a bracket system where only the winners proceed and the peasants pay a week’s wage to watch (and bet on) who will become their next King.

You all fight in turns until only one is left. The sword you are given is steel, heavy and too long, unbalanced in your hand. Your first opponent — you will beat him, at the very least — seems happy to see how you struggle.

You’re the third pair to square off, and though he is bigger, you are faster. Your blades clash and you twist so your blade swings around to rest against his neck. It is over quickly.

You eye the other matches, your opponents and how you can defeat them. The one you had faced in your first match appears to not have been one of the more skilled ones. Pity.

As you step back into the ring for your second match, you become aware of the throb in your wrist. Using the wrong blade and swinging it a little too swiftly, making so you had to abruptly pull back so you didn’t chop off your opponent’s head had taken it’s toll.

You ignore the subtle pain and clench your jaw, doubling as a means to focus and a way to harden out the shape of it. You will not lose, no matter which stops you have to pull.

Even if you must rely on your family secret to save you.

It would be a dirty move to pull, knowing that they have no such talent and that if they did, they would have strategically dropped out in one of the earlier matches. It would be impossible for them to hide their non-humanness from their wife for the rest of their lives.

No. The only ones left were those who wished to take the throne of the King and you, who wanted that seat to remain empty until you decide otherwise.

You will not bow to tradition.

Invigorated, you meet your next opponent in the middle of the ring, spotting how his veins run thick in his hands, weathered from fighting. You narrow your eyes and lift your chin — needless, as you’re not much shorter than any of them there, and you were actually taller than some, something that’s a bane to a girl.

The start is called and you move swiftly. You take careful care to watch your energy levels, making sure to conserve some for your fight, the final one. The man before you, red-faced and ruddy, is merely another obstacle for you to overcome.

His cockiness becomes his weakness, him taking too-big swings that you easily dodge, sneaking in to press your blade to his throat, pressing so drops of blood swell over the edge and drip. Injuries were only frowned upon if major, this was nothing, a scratch that would quickly heal. A measure to remove doubt as you’d left your last opponent spotless.

When Kings were brought to war, when they got so desperate, there was no choice but to spill blood.

The last fight is where things go wrong.

This man is tall, corded with muscle and comfortable with the blade in his hand. His breath comes easily and he appears not to be at all winded, but he must for he won against two others.

Your flaw in this fight is underestimating him and not ducking far enough. He swipes the cap from your head and your hair is visible.

That is the moment that the winner is decided.

Rage leaps up in your throat, pushed by the fear that you’ll be disqualified, and fire rages from your hands and travels the length of your sword to meet your opposer’s arm.

He screams as he loses, dropping the heated blade in his hand, patting at the melting flesh of his arm. You stare at referee stoically, hair hanging in your face, giving him your best glare as he stutters out his results.

“The winner of the princess’ hand...” he shakes, still looking at you and hoping his words won’t cost him his head, watching crowd silent at the new turn, breaths held, “is the princess.”

There is no cheering, no booing, just echoing silence.

You match into the throne room after, loosely circled by guards and the referee. You don’t bother to change into a dress, barely bother to comb your hair out of your face.

Your father needs to hear what you’ve done.

By tradition, you wait outside the door. The referee stutters something about unprecedention, a surprise, what they should do. You can feel your father’s worry through the door.

He recognizes you when you step into the room, still boyish with your clenched jaw and narrow eyes, daring anyone to say anything about your current state of dress.

His face breaks out in relief.

Your family secret is still safe. Your bloodline not to be sullied by mortal blood. Later, your partner will be of your choosing and of your species. You won that right squarely and you will fight again if anyone challenges it.

You are coronated a moon’s phase later. You wear your hair long, some loose and some intricately braided, following tradition in every way but one. When the time comes for the crown to be upon your head, you don’t wear the crown of Queen.

The pastor coronates you with your father’s crown.

You are both Queen and King, until you decide to bequest one of the titles to another.

Until than, your kingdom is yours and no one else’s.

*****

I remember having a hard time keeping this a prompt. Still kind have the urge to do something bigger on this premise, specifically with the inhuman ruling family twist, but I don’t know if it’ll happen.

This is a good run down of how it would be, though. Still good as a prompt.

[mackinmacki]

The Growth of Winter (White Rose Week #4)

Fandom: RWBY

Pairing: White Rose

Word Count: 7424

Rating: G

Synopsis: As the goddess of winter, Weiss is used to being lonely. She's ignored by the other gods, and cursed by the humans below for her season. She expects an eternity of that, until a little goddess decides she wants to step into her life.

Prompt: Goddesses

Links: FFN | AO3

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

There was nothing wrong with the season that she had become associated with. She found winter to be beautiful, with its chilly mornings and freezing nights. To compliment the temperatures, she had created a white, powdery substance that the humans called 'snow'. The name felt right, and on some cold nights, she would walk down the lonely paths the humans had made with their footfalls and make snow fall around her. She loved to watch the ground turn from brown to white, becoming so beautifully pristine. In her more fanciful moments, she thought of falling into the snow and just sinking into its embrace.

However, not everyone loved the winter like she did. When the temperatures started to change, the humans below would bemoan the death of their crops. They would pray to the goddess of growth for assistance, and in the same breath would curse her for bringing such a cold season upon their lands. She would scowl at such cheek, as the land had been created for them. They did not own it. In an instant, she could erase the world and their existence from the chaos. 

More than anger, though, she felt an irreparable sadness. When the snow would melt, and the sun would shine brightly, she would watch the humans cheer. They tended to their fields, and they would make offerings to the goddesses of growth and fire. Watching them pay such respect to other goddesses and not to her made her feel miserable inside, which in turn only made the winters colder. The few sacrifices she ever got were from humans that she suspected were better off not being associated with her.

She spent most of her time alone because of that. Even when there were gatherings of the gods, she kept her distance from the rest of them. None of them paid her much mind, and that was fine with her. Even if it ate away at her insides that not even her fellow immortals wanted to associate with her, she had to pretend that it was fine. Showing weakness would only make things worse for her. Besides, she didn't need any companionship. With her powers, she could make friends. She could carve wolves and bears out of ice and breathe life into them. They would follow her to the ends of the earth if she so willed them. It just wasn't the same as someone wanting to be around her without coercion.

That all led to the day where everything changed. It was at another gathering that she went to reluctantly. During the summer, she felt more comfortable staying in the place she had carved out for herself in the world. It was an area that was far from civilization: always cold, always foreboding. Whenever she went to those gatherings, she never felt like she was home. There were gods and goddesses all around her, yet she never felt more alone. That was, until for the first time, she was approached by someone.

"Hi there!" She had just been sitting in her chair, keeping to herself like she always did. Naturally, she was startled by the sudden appearance. Jumping onto her feet, she found herself staring right into the most arresting eyes she had ever seen. "You're Weiss, right? We've never spoken before, so I wanted to come say hi!" It was Ruby, the goddess of growth and younger sister to the goddess of fire, Yang. That was quite unexpected.

"Yes, we haven't." She felt on edge, wondering if there was some ulterior motive to Ruby coming to talk to her. It just didn't seem likely that she would just appear out of the blue to initiate conversation --- she was too important to humanity for that. Like the other gods and goddesses, she knew all about Ruby. Crafted from starlight by the god of the sun and entwined with the reddest flowers on Remnant, she was beyond reproach. The other gods and goddesses adored her cuteness and her constant, beautiful smile, while the humans praised her for the growth she brought their crops. It was the kind of praise she herself would never receive. "I know who you are."

"Yeah, I've heard that before." Ruby laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. It was hard to look away from her with how adorable she was being. She knew that others found their eyes drawn to Yang, as a goddess of incredible strength and attractiveness. While she wasn't there to judge, she was starting to wonder if their wandering eyes weren't better trained on the young goddess standing in front of her. Her cute smile was positively blinding. "I guess I should have expected such a pretty goddess like you to know what everyone's talking about."

"Pretty?" She blinked, wondering if she had heard that correctly. When she determined that yes, she had heard Ruby correctly, her face started to heat up. "Well, naturally. I always keep abreast of what's happening with the other gods and goddesses." She expected the conversation to end there, and for Ruby to go back to speak with the others. However, she instead stuck around, standing there and fidgeting as if desperate to say something else. "Are you alright, Ruby?"

"I like the snow you created." That took her aback. She had never heard someone say that they liked the snow. Sure, they would say that it was pretty, but the way their sentences dragged on without words, she knew they wished for clearer ground. It never made sense to her, and it fed into her sadness and isolation. To hear someone actually say they liked it was throwing her for a loop. "It's so pretty! Every time I see that it's snowing, I wanna just dive in and roll around in it. I wish we had snow in the spring."

"I don't think you want that." She rolled her eyes, sensing the naivety dripping from Ruby's tone. "The humans aren't as fond of it as you are." She could only imagine the uproar that would happen if it started snowing during the spring. All the crops would die when they were supposed to be blooming, and then she would be cursed again for her existence. The thought soured her extremely.

"But it's so pretty! Yang and I watch it snowing in the winter and I just love how it looks. It makes the world look so pure and beautiful. I wish more people could see that as well." She could barely believe what she was hearing. The cutest goddess in the entire pantheon was talking to her, and telling her how beautiful her creation was. It made her nearly speechless, wanting to try and hold on to those words verbatim as long as she could.

"I do too," she whispered, feeling an aching pang in her heart. If only the others felt the same was as Ruby did, then maybe she wouldn't be so alone. "It's nice to just walk in the cold of the night and let the snow fall around me, coating the ground in its purity. There's no better place to just be by yourself and think." She figured it was better if she didn't say out loud exactly what she was always thinking about.

"Yeah, it seems awesome! I wanna do it next time the snow falls!" She seemed so innocent and truthful, despite everything in her mind telling her that it had to be nothing but lies. Why would Ruby want to spend time in her environment, though? Most of the gods and goddesses stayed up in their home when the first flakes of snow fell, leaving her to wander the lands alone. To hear Ruby say that made her heart feel warm.

"Well, nothing's stopping you. I can always take you on a walk during the winter if you want." She didn't expect to see Ruby's eyes light up so brightly from such a simple offer. It felt like she was going to be blinded by those shining silver eyes. Only her sudden need to keep focused on Ruby kept her from looking away, not wanting to miss a second of the goddess in front of her.

"Really? You really mean that?" She nodded, wondering why Ruby would think she didn't mean it. Why else would she offer up the opportunity, then? "Ooh yay! I can't wait!" She started to hop up and down, drawing attention towards them from a couple other gods. Embarrassed, Weiss finally looked away from Ruby, trying to pretend that the two of them weren't in each other's company. "I wish it was winter already!"

"Why would you want that?" Both of them were surprised by the appearance of a third party. The wild blonde hair of the goddess slapping her strong hands down on Ruby's shoulders, nearly making her knees buckle, gave away exactly who it was: Yang, the goddess of fire, and Ruby's big sister. Closely related to the god of the sun, also known as her father, Yang was revered among humans and gods alike for her beauty as well as her strength. She was always willing to show both traits off. "Summer's the best, sis! It's so hot and perfect for competition!"

"I know, but we're always playing in the sun! Wouldn't it be fun to spend some time in the snow?" Ruby shrugged off Yang's hands, circling around to jump onto her back. "You scared of getting cold?" Yang's eyes started to burn, which made Weiss take a couple of steps back. It seemed as if the temptation of competition got her fired up.

"No way! I burn so bright that all the snow will just melt!" She reached back to try and grab Ruby, who slipped off her back and stuck her tongue out at her. The two of them then began to playfully shove and trash talk each other, forgetting that Weiss was even there. Lowering her eyes, she decided it was time to leave. Clearly the conversation was over, and there wasn't another reason for her to keep being there. So while the sisters were distracted, she disappeared from the gathering.

"Wait wait wait!" Ruby ducked out of Yang's grasp, looking to where Weiss had previously been standing. Now there was just nothing but an empty chair. "Where did she go?"

"Where'd who go?" Yang slung an arm around Ruby's shoulder, looking where she was looking. "Oh, Weiss? The snowflake queen's probably ducked out or somethin'. She never sticks around for our gatherings. Always been a loner and all that."

"Oh..." Ruby frowned, still staring at the empty spot. "That sucks," she muttered to herself, thinking about the extremely pretty lady who controlled all the cool-looking snow, and how maybe there had been something more in her eyes than she originally let on. "Everyone should have a friend."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There were different sounds around her humble, wintery abode that she had learned to ignore. The wind was always blowing outside, sending flurries swirling around the wood that her house was built out of. Occasionally, when her mood was as low as it was then, the wind would be enough to make the entire place shake a bit. She would have to ignore the rattling of her meager cooking supplies and other trinkets on their shelves. All of those sounds had become commonplace to her, but knocking on her door? That was unusual.

She cautiously walked to the door, holding her breath as she pressed her ear to the wood. It could have been something outside that hit her door, and it just happened to sound like knocking. If there was actually someone there, they would knock again- There it was: another knock. She stood up straight, frowning. Who in the world would be foolish enough to venture all the way into the tundra just to see her? Who even knew she was there? On edge now, she opened the door, expecting the worst.

"Hi Weiss!" Her jaw dropped upon seeing Ruby and Yang standing at her door. Ruby was bundled up in a large jacket that seemed to have been sewn together out of grass blades and different-colored flowers. On anyone else, she would have scoffed at such ridiculous attire, but Ruby made it look adorable. She looked so warm, comfortable, and so... so her. This fit the tales she had heard of the young goddess with ears tuned to idle gossip.

"Let us in," Yang huffed out through gritted teeth. Unlike her warmly-dressed sister, she was just standing there in a yellow top with a black symbol drawn on it. From what she remembered wandering about Remnant, it looked like a symbol of fire that the humans had made in honor of her. She didn't look particularly fiery at the moment. Between that top and her leggings that were cut off at the knees, she was dressed for a warm summer day, not the frozen landscape she found herself in.

Rolling her eyes, she stepped back and let Yang burst into the house. "Great Father, it's still cold in here! How do you live like this?!" Ruby followed in after her, laughing as she thanked Weiss for giving them shelter. She could only nod stiffly, struck dumb by how beautiful Ruby's laugh sounded.

"Because she's the goddess of winter, genius." Weiss shut the door, wondering why just seeing Ruby in her house was making her heart beat like crazy. She barely even knew her! "I thought you said you could handle this kind of weather. You seem, you know..." She sidled over to Yang, placing a gloved hand on her bare arm and whispering in her ear. "... cold."

"I..." Yang threw her hands up, groaning before bowing in defeat. "Fine, alright? I'm cold! I can't hack it, alright? You happy?!" The huge smile on Ruby's face showed that yes, she was very happy. "Ugh, can we get a fire going in here or something? Ah, you know what? Never mind, I'll do it myself." Holding out her hands, a ball of flames suddenly appeared floating in her palms. It grew larger, until it seemed to engulf her hands. "Ahh, that's much better!"

"Please don't set my chairs on fire." Shaking her head in disbelief, Weiss decided it was better to spend her time looking at Ruby. She just happened to look at her at the same time as Ruby turned to face her. Now they were looking in each other's eyes, and she couldn't take the purity inside them. She looked away first, a blush on her cheeks as she remembered that there was an important question she was supposed to ask. "What are you two doing here?"

"We came to see you, of course!" Ruby acted like that was the most normal thing in the world, when it most assuredly was not. Nobody came to visit her: nobody even knew where she lived! Which was actually a good follow-up question once she got a word in edgewise. "I was talking with Yang, and we decided that it wasn't fair that you had to live out here all alone with no friends."

"She decided that, Yang chimed in, sitting down on one of Weiss's chairs with her hands still on fire. "I came because I wasn't going to let my lil' sis get lost finding your crazy living conditions. If this is where you choose to live, I can't imagine where your followers build your temples."

"That's their business," she huffed back, deciding to not admit that she didn't have enough temples built in her honor to be picky about their locations. "... You know what? What do you mean by that?" She narrowed her eyes at Ruby, her initial question being forgotten by a newer, more-important one. "What do you mean by saying I have no friends?"

"Well, do you?" Ruby's blunt response caught her completely off-guard. She stood there with her mouth opening, trying to make words come out that would say that she had plenty of friends, or even that she didn't need friends. Instead, she looked like a fish flopping about on the bottom of a fisherman's boat. There was no need for her to even say anything at that point.

"No... I don't have any friends." She couldn't even put on a strong front because she knew how pathetic the truth was. The other gods didn't bother to spend time with her, her worshippers were few and crazy at that, and her family was... complicated, to say the least. For her, this was normal. Having someone like Ruby come all this way just to talk with her was foreign. "Don't look at me like that," she felt compelled to respond when she saw Ruby looking at her with the biggest, saddest puppy-dog eyes.

"But Weisss!" Ruby wrapped her up in a surprisingly tight hug which almost took her breath away. However, it wasn't because Ruby was squeezing the air out of her lungs, but because she had hugged her. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt such pure affection from someone, if it had ever happened. It was making her feel things that she knew she shouldn't be. "Everyone deserves a friend! Let me be your friend!" She let go of her and started bouncing on her toes, her eyes wide and eager. "Please please pleeease?!"

"Alright, alright! You don't have to beg!" She had never met someone quite like Ruby. There were a plethora of personalities within their pantheon, but never had she found a fellow deity who was just so uncompromisingly energetic and nice. It threw her well-crafted wall that tried to keep her from feeling too hurt out the window. She felt bare without that wall, with all kinds of emotions washing over her that she had tried so hard not to feel. Knowing that there was someone like Ruby made her feel lonely for having not known her sooner. "I suppose we can be friends, as long as you behave."

"Good luck with that. She's a real hassle to reign in." Ruby whipped around, looking crushed at Yang's utter betrayal. "If you turn around for one second, poof-" She flicked the fire from her left hand out of existence. "-she's gone. I'm surprised she's stayed still long enough to talk to you in the first place."

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang!" She drew her name out so long, Weiss was surprised she still had enough breath to keep talking. "Don't embarrass me in front of my new friend!" She whirled back around to face Weiss, looking legitimately concerned. "That's not true, Weiss! I can stand here as long as you want! I'll stay here all night if you want me to!"

"You... don't have to do that, Ruby." How could she just so casually say she would stay at her place all night? Nobody just said that so innocently like that! She knew that some of the other gods - well, most of the other gods - had certain proclivities that she personally did not take part in. Saying that she would 'stay all night' was par for the course, really, but it didn't sound like she expected it to coming out of Ruby's mouth. It sounded way too innocent for that.

"Well, then can I least keep coming to see you? Without supervision?" She shot a pointed look Yang's way, who just shrugged before bringing the fire back to life in her hand. "I can make it here without trouble, as you can see. Plus, I know how to dress properly." She couldn't help but get that last dig in, and even Weiss had to crack a smile at that. Yang couldn't even say something to the contrary: she was the idiot who had risen to the challenge.

"If you want to come visit me again, I'm not opposed to that. However, I believe you'll find my company rather boring." She didn't have a lot of long interactions to prove such a claim, but she couldn't imagine that anything about herself would be appealing to Ruby. This was clearly a goddess who needed to be free, and the slow shackles of ice and snow didn't fit. She would never want to spend more than one more day coming to see her, and then she could go back to her normal, lonely life. The thought made her feel hollow.

"Aww, I'm sure that's not true! You seem like lots of fun!" Now that she certainly didn't believe. She couldn't imagine a single person saying she was 'a lot of fun.' All of those farmers whose crops perished during her season would likely beg to differ. "I just have so many questions I wanna ask! And you don't have to answer them all if you don't wanna, but I just wanna know more about you!"

"I... suppose I could answer a few questions." Ruby was becoming overbearing for her lonely mind. It wasn't a bad thing, though. Secretly, she did want companionship, but she had resigned herself to being alone forever. Then suddenly Ruby decides she wants to talk to her, and then somehow find where she lived to spend more time with her. It was overbearing because she kept expecting Ruby to disappear, leaving nothing but a memory to prove she had been there at all. "How did the two of you find where I lived anyway? I don't exactly advertise my location."

"Oh yeah, we asked your mom where we could find you."

"WHAT?! You asked my mother?!" Ruby nodded happily, and Yang gave her a helpless shrug from across the room. At that point, with the deed done, she could only hang her head and sigh deeply. Somehow Ruby had gotten through the elusive, drunken haze that surrounded her mother every forsaken second. That was... she didn't even know what it was. How in the world was she going to deal with this?

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

  The summer sun sank beneath the horizon, and the autumn leaves blew away into the night. As winter fell onto the lands, snow naturally followed. The browning grass was hidden beneath blankets of pure white snow, making a beautiful, pristine landscape. Due to the drop in temperature, most people stayed in the homes, stoking the fires in their furnaces and cursing the goddess of winter for bringing such terrible weather onto their lands. Weiss did her best to pretend people weren't thinking such things.

She and Ruby were taking a walk together, their first while the snow was falling. It was fascinating seeing Ruby watch it fall with such wide-eyed wonder. To her, snow was a common occurrence: it was beautiful, but familiar. However, Ruby was experiencing it in person for the first time, and she was clearly wowed by it. She couldn't admit it out loud, but it made her happy to see someone truly enjoying her creation. It wasn't something she got much of before.

"This is incredible!" Ruby shouted, running forward and spreading out her arms. She laughed as she started spinning in circles, sticking out her tongue to catch a few snowflakes. The scene was so childish and adorable that Weiss started to laugh. She covered her mouth to try and hide it, but she had been heard. "I made you laugh! Score one for Ruby!"

"You are such a child. Were you created yesterday?" It felt good to have those little back and forth conversations with Ruby. Sometimes she would go so long without speaking that she feared her voice would disappear. 

"Nope! I am a fully-fledged goddess, just like you." Sticking out her tongue like the fully-fledged goddess she was, Ruby suddenly dropped down into the snow. Lying on her back, she started flailing her arms and legs back and forth, laughing the whole time. "Look Weiss, I'm making snow people!"

"Careful you don't bring them to life. We already enough people in this world." She walked over to stand in front of Ruby, looking down at her with an amused look. "Are you having fun acting like a child down there?"

"Well excuuuse me for having fun! Haven't you ever wanted to play around in the snow before? I mean, you're the one who created all of this."

"No, I suppose I haven't." It seemed too childish for her to do, and Ruby showing her the proof helped explain why she didn't. However, it seemed that Ruby wasn't as fond of that answer. Sitting up, she suddenly grabbed Weiss's hand and yanked her down. "RubYYY!" She let out an undignified screech as she was pulled down, falling right on top of Ruby.

"Doesn't the snow look better from up close?" Ruby giggled, hands tight around Weiss's wrists. Weiss could only nod, feeling as if the entire world had just been flipped upside down. She was lying on top of Ruby, as close as she had ever been to the goddess that had steadily gained her affection. For the first time, she truly felt what she could only describe as warmth. It made her feel more like Yang. In that moment, there was no place she would rather be than lying on top of Ruby.

"I... I suppose it does," she murmured, reluctantly rolling off of Ruby and down into the snow. Staring up at the sky, she watched the snow come down and sighed deeply, feeling her mind getting lost in the dark cosmos above. She swore that the snowflakes falling above her were perfectly mimicking the constellation of Beowulf. "I have never had anyone to do things like this with."

"Not even your sister?" As loathe as she was to mention the details of her family to anyone, she had felt comfortable enough to divulge a feel details to Ruby one fall evening. Ever since, she had constantly felt that she had made a mistake, but Ruby didn't bring them up much, thank goodness. That didn't mean she never did, though. "Which, by the way, I can't believe your sister's name is Winter, and she's not the goddess of winter. I mean, she was named so perfectly!"

"She didn't ask to be named that. Blame my parents." She felt her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Conversations concerning her family were always awkward to her, and she had never really had to experience them that much before. Now she had a super curious goddess in her company, and sometimes it seemed she just couldn't help herself. It wasn't like she could blame Ruby, but that didn't make talking about them any easier. "I haven't seen her in awhile." She decided that being vague about how long 'awhile' was would be prudent.

"Aww..." Ruby fell silent for a moment, meaning that all there was to listen to was the wind. "Well, I'll always be here for you!" She tilted her head to see Ruby staring at her, smiling her big, innocent smile that she had begun to fall for. "As long as I'm here, you won't ever have to be alone!"

"Thank you, Ruby." Her voice came out as a whisper, feeling emotions welling up inside her. Ruby was just such a nice person: there were no ulterior motives in her actions. She legitimately wanted to spend time with her, even if no one else would. For months and months, she had been coming to see her without a desire for anything but her company. It confused her, and it made her feel like the luckiest goddess in the pantheon. "I appreciate that."

"And I appreciate you spending time with me too!" Ruby sat up and scooped up some snow with her hands. She tossed it up into the air, smiling as it all came back down. "It's nice to make new friends, especially when they treat me like a normal goddess." For the first time, she saw a crack in the normally happy air that always surrounded Ruby. "Because of how I came to be, everyone treats me like I'm a special, precious object. As if I would break if they stopped watching me for one second."

That wasn't surprising to hear. While it had never been explicitly stated, she had noticed the way others acted around Ruby, especially Yang. For the first few times that Ruby visited her, Yang tagged along despite her aversion to the cold. It took a lot of pleading from Ruby to get her to back off, but apparently that wasn't the end of it. From what she had been told, Ruby's father, the sun god Taiyang, was likely watching over her from above. It all seemed overbearing, but she also felt a certain longing when she heard it. She wondered what it would be like to have family that cared enough to constantly watch over her.

"Well, you seem perfectly capable of taking care of yourself." She sat up as well, running a hand along the ground. Sometimes the snow felt like a representation of herself: a lonely, oft-undisturbed substance that people cursed with every breath. To see Ruby playing with it like it was the most fun thing she had ever experienced made her feel so much different about it. If she wasn't careful, her emotions were going to overwhelm her.

"Right?! What's the point of being a goddess if I'm not allowed to do anything?!" As quickly as she had sat up, she flopped back down, kicking her legs in a fit of petulance. When she finally calmed down, she let out a weary sigh. It sounded too ancient of a sound for someone so young and vibrant. "Sometimes I wish I was just a normal goddess like the others. I just want to be able to do things like everyone else."

"Then why don't you?" In a way, she could understand why Ruby's family was so overprotective. The more time she spent around Ruby, the more she wanted to protect her as well. Still, Ruby was her own person, and she should be allowed to dictate what she did with her time. "You're a goddess just like the rest of us. Whether or not you're special doesn't matter. We all have our powers and our domains, and you do as well. Don't let your family tell you how to go about your business."

"I wish," Ruby laughed, flicking the snow around with her fingers. "I say that I can take care of myself all the time, but my parents and Yang are just so protective. Maybe it's because Yang's-" She shut up in an instant, eyes widening for a second. "Uh, forget I said anything," she mumbled, which only piqued Weiss's curiosity. However, wanting to respect her only friend, she didn't pry. "It just sucks, you know?" She could only nod, not truly understanding Ruby's plight, but wishing she could do something to make her feel better.

"Well, as long as you're here with me, you're free to do anything you want. As long as you don't destroy anything." She meant every word, but seeing Ruby's smile was an extra bonus to saying it. Seeing Ruby smile at her always made her lose track of where she was. It felt like she was floating in the Mistral River, having nowhere to go and no place to be. If she could see Ruby smile like that every day, she would never complain about her loneliness ever again.

"Aww, you just had to take the fun out of it, didn't you?" She held the straightest face she could until Weiss's frown was too much to handle, bursting into giggles right afterwards. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I won't destroy anything, promise!" Once she calmed down, she resumed her normal, smiling ways, which continued to make Weiss's heart do a series of flips. "I'm really glad we get to spend time together, Weiss. You're such an awesome friend, and I really wanna spend more time playing in the snow with you!"

"I..." She swallowed thickly, a wave of emotions cresting inside her. It was taking everything she had to not let them overcome her. "I want to spend more time with you too. I'm just... surprised you're not bored with me yet." That had been a constant fear rooted in her mind. She had been so sure that her presence would be uninteresting to Ruby, and even after all the time they had spent together, it was hard to not believe it would eventually happen. The thought of Ruby not showing up one day, and never coming back, hurt her more than she ever expected it to.

"Are you kidding? You're lots of fun! Besides, we don't always have to be doing something. Like right now. We're just lying together in the snow, right? It's not 'fun', but it's nice because it's with you." Weiss blushed at that comment, wondering if she could hide it in the snow. It was too late for that, as Ruby was already giggling at her embarrassment. She didn't feel angry about it, though. There were other, much stronger emotions at play, and every word Ruby said made it harder to not let them overwhelm her. "Sooo, you said I could do anything I want when I'm with you, right?"

"I did say that..." She quirked an eyebrow, feeling suspicious about where this was going. "Maybe I ought to put in some qualifiers just in case."

"Oh no, it's nothing bad! At least, I hope it's not." Ruby laughed, but it was more nervous than before. She picked up on it instantly. "But you're sure I can do anything?" There was a hopeful look in her eyes as she waited for a response. Weiss wasn't sure she could say no, even if it ended up destroying something.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" She wasn't sure what to wait for, so she tried to prepare herself for anything. However, there were things she couldn't prepare for, and Ruby chose something that she never would have predicted: she leaned in and kissed her. It lasted for a mere second, but the ghostly sensation stayed long after Ruby moved away.

"Was... Was that okay?" Ruby slapped her hands against her legs, touching her lips with her tongue. "I mean, it felt okay, but maybe that was just me." She laughed, looking so innocent and cute and just... too much. Way too much. It was all too much for Weiss's fragile, lonely heart to handle. Without warning, tears started to fall down her cheeks. "O-Oh! Weiss, I'm sorry!" Panicking, Ruby started trying to wipe her tears away.

However, Ruby's eyes widened when she saw Weiss's tears turn to ice. As she wiped them away, the teardrops froze and swam around in the air, circling around the pair. The more Weiss cried, the more frozen teardrops appeared. Ruby was caught between awe and worry, watching it all happen while being unsure of what to do. All she knew was that she never, ever wanted to see Weiss crying like that.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, staring at Ruby through blurry eyes. There didn't seem to be a way to stop herself from crying. "I didn't expect you to kiss me. No, that isn't it." There was more to it than that. The kiss was surprising: no doubt about that. However, everything had been leading up to her letting her emotions out, and the kiss was the final straw. "It's everything about you. I don't understand... Why do you care about me? Why do you spend so much time with me?" She had to choke back a sob before continuing. "Why do you like me enough to kiss me?"

"Well, because you're likable?" Ruby tilted her head, seemingly confused by all of the questions. "I don't understand, Weiss. Why would you think I wouldn't care about you? You're awesome! I mean, you're super pretty, and you have so much knowledge of Remnant. You're powerful too! I mean, the snow?" She grabbed some and tossed it up in the air, watching it fall with a smile. "It's so beautiful. I'm so happy you let me see it with you!"

"You're the only one," she muttered, feeling her tears finally starting to abate. "All of the humans hate me. The winter weather kills their crops, and they curse me for it. Only strange humans bother to populate my temples, and none of the other gods come to see me during my season. Not even my family..." Her tone was extremely bitter, cutting through the air like a knife.

"That's... That's terrible." Ruby let out a whimper, looking like she was about to cry as well. "They're wrong, though. The snow is beautiful, and winter is a necessary season. Every season exists for a reason, don't they?" Weiss nodded slowly, looking down at the snow. "If they can't see that, then they don't deserve to worship you anyway!"

"I appreciate that, Ruby." She actually laughed at that, wiping away a few more stray tears. The frozen teardrops almost completely encircled them, as if keeping them in a world of their own. "That doesn't change the fact that you're one of the few who actually care about what I do. It's hard not to feel lonely." She hadn't meant to dump all of that on Ruby. That was all supposed to be kept internally, her pain and loneliness for her heart only. There was just something about Ruby that made the truth easier to let slip out.

"Then I won't let you feel lonely! I'll always be here to spend time with you!" Ruby put her hands on Weiss's shoulders, staring at her with an intense seriousness. "Maybe they don't understand the beauty behind winter, but I do. I'll... I'll do something to show them that there's beauty in the season! I just need time to think on it." There was no hesitation or falsehoods in her eyes. Everything she had spoken was the truth.

"You don't have to do that, Ruby. Having you here is enough for me." She too meant those words. Smiling, she pressed her forehead against Ruby's and sighed softly. "I have no idea what I deserved to gain a friend like you."

"By being yourself," Ruby replied with a big smile. "I wanna be friends with you because you're you. I'm so happy that we talked at the gathering! Otherwise, I may never have gotten to know you, and I don't even wanna think about that." A light blush crossed her face before she spoke again. "So, uh, I can still do whatever I want when I'm with you, right?"

"Yes, that's still alright." Weiss started to blush too, having a feeling that she knew what was about to happen. When Ruby started to lean in, her feelings were confirmed. This time, their kiss lasted quite awhile longer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was unusual to see so many people coming outside in the dead of winter. In the warmest clothes they could make, they filed together to stare in awe at what had happened. Growing outside were flowers, their petals a perfect swirl of red and white. There were dozens upon dozens of them, all popping up through the snow-covered fields. Everybody seemed to be entranced by their beauty.

"They smell amazing!" someone exclaimed, and others murmured in agreement. They started to get closer, some kneeling to look at the flowers up close. Multiple people spoke of how wonderful the smell was, which led to one adventurous soul plucking one and giving it a taste. The others watched them in both amazement and curiosity, waiting to see what would happen. 

"It... It tastes good!" they shouted in amazement, catching the attention of everyone else. "It's sweet..." They bit into the flower again, confirming that it indeed was a sweet-tasting flower. "I bet we could eat these!" With that, everybody charged forward to grab a flower of their own, wanting to see if what had been said was true. As everyone would soon find out, it was just as sweet as had been promised.

"Wow, this is wonderful!" "Thank you, Weiss!" "The goddess has granted our prayers!" "We need to go pray for her blessings!" Everyone grabbed another flower before heading off towards the closest temple. Of course, that temple was abandoned, having been for a deity that no humans would remember. They were determined to re-purpose it into a new temple for Weiss, though.

"See?" Watching from the skies, Ruby turned to Weiss with the giddiest expression all over her face. "They love you now! I told you I'd figure something out!"

"I suppose you did." She could only shake her head in disbelief. While she had appreciated what Ruby was trying to do, she found it difficult to believe that anything would make the humans love her. Leave it to Ruby, the most wonderful goddess ever created, to find a way to prove her wrong. Though she didn't want to admit it out loud, she was in awe of her powers. "They should be praying to you, though. You're the one who grew those flowers."

"Aw, that's not necessary. They already pray to me enough. You deserve this." In their time together, Weiss had found out something surprising about Ruby: she could be very, very stubborn. Maybe the two of them weren't as different as she had originally thought. She was determined to make the people worship Weiss, and she refused to take any sort of credit. It was flattering, but also annoying.

"But you did it. It's because of you that they even care about me."

"I did it for you, though. If I was just trying to get more people to pray to me, I wouldn't have bothered." She crossed her arms, looking a lot more mature than she usually did. "I'm not budging on this, Weiss. I did this for you, because I love you, and I want everyone down there to feel the same way I do." She stopped, seeing Weiss's face rapidly turning red. "What? What's wrong?"

"You said you..." Weiss could barely get the words out, unable to believe Ruby didn't realize what she had said. "You said you love me, Ruby..."

"Huh?" She blinked in confusion, thinking back on what she had just said. "I did?" She went back, back, until Weiss wasn't the only one with a red face. "Oh... I, uh, I guess I did," she laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Ahaha, I'm sorry, but... yeah, I do love you, Weiss. I mean, you're my friend, so of course I'd love you, but..." She clasped her hands together, biting on her lip. "I think it's become more than that. I, uh, actually talked to my dad about how I was feeling."

"You did what?!" What was it with Ruby talking to their parents about these things? First her mom, now the literal god of the sun. She could feel herself already melting away beneath the angry glare of Taiyang. There was no way he would be happy that his younger daughter was telling the least-liked goddess that she loved her.

"I didn't say I loved you," which was not reassuring in the slightest. As if Taiyang didn't have more omnipotence than most. "I just said I thought I had feelings for someone, and I asked for advice. When I told him how I was feeling, he said he had felt the same way about his wives. If I was feeling that way, then it must be something special." She smiled, taking one of Weiss's hands in hers, stroking her palm with a finger. "And they are special. You're special to me, Weiss."

"Ruby..." She sniffled, feeling tears falling down her cheeks. Ruby had this way of making her emotions come out in a way that nothing and no one else could. She had always had emotions, but she kept them bottled up inside where they belonged. It wasn't befitting of a goddess such as herself, and she had no one to truly confide in anyway. Now that Ruby had offered herself up in such a way, she found it too hard to keep herself in control. "I... I love you too."

"Yay!" Ruby happily jumped onto Weiss, kissing her with everything she had. Laughing and crying, Weiss kissed her back, holding on as tightly as she could. Snow fell as they confirmed their affections for one another, and the humans down below danced, sang, and prayed for the bounty of the goddesses above. The goddess of winter had never experienced a better winter than she had then.

For once, no one wanted the snow to go away.

[theunmappedstar]

I dare you to give some random badboy au headcanons

so, i’m sorry, but “random headcanons” turned into “here’s the beginning of highschool badboy au plot that i have stuck in my head”... so... enjoy.

Sophie meets them because she joins Foxfire’s photography class as an elective. She has a group assignment that she has to complete, which requires her to take some photography scavenger hunt. She’s given a piece of paper with a list of different prompts she has to use to take pictures. (She’s mostly intrigued by the “street photography” bullet point).

Sophie gets paired up with Biana. They make quick friends and decide to divvy up the work - but this is also how Sophie learns about the boys.

She’d heard a little about them prior, but Sophie tended to only dip her toe into the gossip sparingly, so she doesn’t know exactly what’s up with these dudes

Sophie finds out that Biana is related to Fitz. Biana’s actually a real chatterbox when it comes to her family, so over the next week Sophie’s filled in on the majority of the timeline. (Also, the fact that everyone seemed to know of it, but her made Sophie feel really out of the loop and unpopular, but.)

The Vackers are a very wealthy and influential family. Biana’s parents naturally expected the most of their kids. Unfortunately, that only ended up dividing them. The three siblings weren’t very close when they were younger, but at least they talked - they barely interact normally anymore, according to Biana, focusing solely on their own lives and work. Alvar’s long since graduated, but Fitz and Biana are still held to their parent’s high expectations; they feel pressured to somehow reach above Alvar’s already-tremendous feats. Biana says even though it was rough, she never really saw it as a competition like her two brothers did. But that doesn’t mean she liked it, either.

Anyway, Fitz got so fed up with it and after a blowout, he managed to fall into what the Vacker parents love to call the “wrong crowd.”

The “wrong crowd” happens to be two kids - one from Foxfire Academy and one from a neighboring not-so-pristine school called Exillium.

Sophie’s interested as to who the two kids are, naturally, so she asks.

She almost immediately regrets that decision because as it would turn out, she knows those two kids.

Or, at least, she used to.

The first, Keefe Sencen, was surrounded by a lot of talk in her grade because of how he’d managed to skip a year when he was younger - and now Sophie finds that he’s apparently close to having to retake a year, since his grades have started to slip. She’d only seen him a couple times in elementary and had been paired with him for projects a staggering record of two times, but that didn’t mean he was one she would forget. (Those two group projects had been hell for her. He’d messed around with her so much and made her so frustrated and flustered and urg she hadn’t known how to act around a boy so obnoxious-but-cute).

Sophie doesn’t know if she’s surprised or not to find out that he managed to flip into the resident bad boy

The second one, Tam Song, happened to be a childhood friend (or she assumed that was the same Tam Song. There couldn’t be that many Tam Songs in the world, right?). She’d had a couple playdates with him before his parents had moved him and his twin sister away. She found out years later from her parents that the Songs had been having financial troubles and could no longer afford to be in the neighborhood/attend the academy

Sophie is baffled that the three managed to get together and start a reputation for themselves, no less

Sophie’s also baffled that they’re so well-known and yet she hadn’t really heard a thing about them; seriously, how unpopular was she?

When she relays the info to Dex and Marella at lunch, they tease Sophie that they’ve been waiting for it to hit her for years.

“...Why do you think we sit alone?” Dex asks.

Honestly, Sophie never really bothered to think about it. “I don’t know.”

Marella just snort-giggles. “Listen, you’re really smart, Sophie: you could build an entire AI system if you put your mind to it. But sometimes you lack a little thing called common sense.”

She doesn’t know whether to be offended or flattered.

She chooses to be flattered.

In the following days, Biana and Sophie get to checking off the to-do list for the assignment. Sophie’s first one requires her to take pictures of the interior of the school. She knows full well she could use her press pass to take pictures of the empty hallways during school, but that would require setting a time up with teachers, which would mean talking to teachers, which required basic social interaction... which.... was not very appealing and definitely not on Sophie’s list of Things I Want To Do.

She instead decides to stay after school for half an hour and take pictures.

She’s meandering around, snapping pictures here and there, trying to find out which angles would make the pictures less boring when she’s startled by a voice.

Sophie nearly drops the camera and whirls to find a boy sprawled across the bench outside the principle’s office. It takes her a moment to recognize him, but it eventually floods her brain.

Surprise, surprise - it’s Keefe Sencen.

He’s changed a lot since she last saw him. Granted, she last saw him when they were, like, six, but she lets herself be shocked.

Keefe’s got the whole getup. Ripped jeans, black tee, jet-black leather jacket... And he wears curiously, Sophie notices, an abundance of chains. Specifically, those rapper chains that dangle around your neck.

Sophie doesn’t realize that he’s called for her until he does it again. He’s asking what she’s up to, walking around with a camera like that after school.

She doesn’t know why, but “Yearbook” stumbles out.

She is not in Yearbook. She’s in Photography - close, but not quite it.

Keefe seems to feed off of her being flustered. It looks like he seriously enjoys it. he goes on to ask her what she’s got to take pictures of

She can’t really speak when he stands, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like that, so she just... hands the list over to him.

He quirks a brow and muses about the student/faculty box that has yet to be checked and he asks why she’s saved that one, since she’s been at school all day.

“Well, I... don’t really know how to casually approach someone and ask for a picture.”

It’s true. Everyone’s moving so fast and about their day during school hours and it’s especially hard to catch anybody after school.

Keefe just shrugs. “Then, you don’t have to.”

It takes her a second to realize what he means. He’s offering to let her take a picture of two of him.

It seems like a good idea. He’s right there and she can get it done and over with, but something about lifting the camera and snapping some shots of Keefe Sencen... Having to go home and know that she has access to pictures of him that she herself got to take...

He seems untouchable, is the thing. It seems like this is something that shouldn’t be happening - like he should have shooed her off like she was some human scum. It seems like they’re on two different levels. She’s the weird kid nobody really strives to talk to and he’s the boy that everyone’s terrified and annoyed (but secretly impressed) of.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

Keefe interrupts her to assure her he doesn’t mind. He does ask if it sounds a little too self-centered, though, the way he just offered himself up for grabs.

Sophie’s not really listening because she’s too mesmerized by him combing his hands through his hair.

She kinda just blinks and mumbles some incoherent reply while trying to set the camera up. Her hands are super shaky and Keefe notices. Sophie stiffens when he outstretches a hand and asks if he can see the camera

“Um,” she starts, forcing herself to look at him, “I don’t think I should. I don’t own this and if it gets damaged-”

“Relax,” he murmurs. He retracts his hand instantly. “I was just asking. I took photography - I’m interested what camera they’ve given you. It looks different from the one I used; which seriously sucked, by the way.”

He pauses for a second to look her up and down. It makes her squirm, feeling on fire.

“And the pictures don’t have to be of me, right? They can be of students, if I’m remembering the guidelines correctly.” He waves the paper in his hands before reaching out to give it back to her. “And you, Miss...”

When Sophie recognizes he’s asking for her name, she blushes. “Sophie.” She plucks the paper from his hand.

He gives a swirling hand gesture, like he’s prodding for more.

“Foster,” she contends.

He nods, satisfied once he has her last name. “Foster,” he repeats, then continues, “Well, you’re a student, if I do say so myself. So, that means...” He lifts up his hands, pretending like he’s holding an imaginary camera. He pretends to adjust the lens and focus on her, finger hovering over the imaginary button that would take the imaginary picture.

He smirks. “Need a smile there, Foster,” he beckons.

She’s pretty sure she can’t get any redder. “I’m not really photogenic,” she argues, reaching forward to beckon his fake camera down.

He relents and let’s his hands drop, but his smirk remains. “Sure.”

She doesn’t really know what to say after that, so she hands him the camera with a mumble. Keefe eagerly takes it in his hands (which makes her notice the rings he has littered on his fingers) and he starts flipping and fiddling.

He says some random model name to her which she doesn’t really pay attention to. She only snaps up when his meddling ends and he asks, “Hey, by the way, how’ve the group projects been going?”

His smile seems more tender. More reminiscent. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, which makes Sophie realize he remembers her. And, in turn, he remembers those god-awful projects they were forced to endure together.

She’s pretty sure she turns redder than her rosy skirt. “You remember that?” she mumbles.

Keefe chuckles. “Remember? Can’t really forget.” He taps his temple. “Also, anything that involves a cute girl is immediately filed to the front of my brain.”

Sophie’s so struck by the compliment that she nearly grazes over his first fact. How had she managed to forget he had a photographic memory just like her?

She doesn’t quite know how to respond, but she manages to pull a smile and mumble something about needing to get to work if she wants to finish the project. Surprisingly, Keefe just smiles back and offers her the camera. She makes sure not to graze too much of his skin as she takes the camera from his hands, shaking. She thanks him and turns to bolt away as fast as her legs can carry her (because she knows she’s on fire and she knows he can see it and oh god-) when his voice slows her down.

“I’m serious about that picture thing, Foster. If you need any help, I’ve got time.”

She stops in the hallway to look at him. Sophie raises a slow eyebrow and gestures to the office. Her hand is unsteady, but she’s proud when her voice doesn’t shake. “You seem pretty busy to me.”

Keefe laughs. “Nah, this is normal. But I can find a way to make some time for you.”

Sophie’s sure he says something more along the line of, “All you need to do is ask,” but she’s pretty sure the entire world has become a blur. in a flash she’s said her goodbye and she’s speed walking out to Dex’s car (he offered to drive her home after school, that day. He does it whenever he has time, actually. They live in the same neighborhood, which is pretty convenient, given they’re best friends and adoptive cousins).

Dex can see she’s off her game, but he doesn’t delve into it. The car ride home is pretty quiet.

Also when Biana and Sophie see each other in class the following day, it’s pretty hard for Sophie to come up with an excuse as to why she doesn’t have that many photos. She promises that she’ll stay after school again to try and make them up.

She does.

And that’s when she meets Fitz.

Sophie doesn’t really know how it happened. She avoided the area she’d seen Keefe in at all costs, snapping pictures literally anywhere else she could find, but somehow she wound up outside on the curb. And somehow she ended up wandering through the mostly-empty parking lot, snapping pictures of the parking spaces that the seniors had decorated (every year the graduating class got to customize their parking spot with spray paint). And wandering through the parking lot taking pictures led to her spotting a few sleek bikes.

In hindsight, Sophie thinks she finally understands what Marella meant by “you’re smart but you have no common sense,” because she walks up to the bikes. They’re against the curbside parking spaces, so Sophie steps up on the sidewalk and begins observing the shiny vehicles.

She’s never really been keen on motorcycles (the idea of getting one kind of terrifies her) but she has to admit that they look good.

And Sophie, lacking that beautiful common sense, snaps a picture.

She barely holds back the squeak when someone behind her asks what she’s up to. Sophie turns around to meet two boys in leather jackets. They’ve both got dark heads of hair, but one is noticeably lighter. And the darkest sported silver-dyed bangs.

She’s pretty sure her insides shrivel. It’s them, there’s no denying. Her photographic memory compares Tam’s aged features with the ones from his youth, seeing how his soft face had turned to hard-and-handsome lines. And she can see the resemblance to Biana in Fitz’s equally-charming face.

(Also, the more that she thought about it, she’d actually been put against Fitz during one of the stupid elementary spelling bees. She severely prayed he didn’t remember her as spelling bee girl.)

“Sorry,” she apologizes sheepishly. She lifts the camera. “Photography. I can delete it.”

She should have asked before doing that. She seriously should have asked. She feels like she’s been caught and she’s considering turning tail and running when they shrug and tell her it’s fine. She’s pretty sure she’s dreaming when she gets asked if she at least liked the bikes or if it was just for the assignment.

She says it was for the assignment, but she does like them.

Fitz smiles at her for the first time and Sophie’s legs become jello. 

Shit, how can someone look that nice while smiling?

But it doesn’t last too long because Tam asks who she is and where he’s seen her before. His head is tilted at her, dangly earrings twirling with the motion. Sophie can tell he does recognize her, at least a bit. All eyes are on her, so she feels a bit squirmy mentioning how she knows Tam, but once she does, his eyes light up and his eyebrows launch.

“Oh, Sophie. Shit.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Shit.”

Years later, it looks impossible to imagine that they’d ever been friends. They were so... different from each other, now.

They all start making semi-awkward conversation, discussing the school year and Sophie’s photography anything random they can come up with when Keefe rolls out of the school.

“Foster?”

She waves. “Oh, um. Hey.”

Keefe reaches his friends and his eyebrows crunch. He asks if they know her. Tam shrugs and says they knew each other when they were little, but they haven’t seen one another in years. Fitz admits Biana’s mentioned a Foster girl, but he doesn’t know her (Sophie’s pretty sure she’s dead. She didn’t know Biana talked about her at the house, even if it was something like measly dinner small talk.)

Keefe turns and grins at her, seeing the camera in her hand. “Yearbook again?”

She flushes. “Photography, actually.” Seeing his confusion, she continues, “I don’t know why I said Yearbook, yesterday. I’m in Photography, not Yearbook.”

Shockingly, Keefe just snorts. He muses that she’s something else before waltzing over and outstretching his hand. Sophie hands him the paper chock-full of guidelines again. Keefe starts muttering that she has a lot more crossed off than yesterday.

“You’ve still got a bit to go,” he points out.

Sophie just kinda nods. She’s mostly focusing on not letting her knees buckle in front of all of them. Her hands on the camera are sweating. It’s weird, how she’s managed to get caught in this situation. Everyone steers clear of these three, she knows, but now she’s somehow stuck in normal conversation with them. About photography, no less.

Keefe spots the street photography point and hums. He points to it, showing her the paper. “That seems interesting.” He meets her eyes. “Gonna take me up on my offer, yet, Foster?”

She swallows. “Oh, uh, street photography isn’t here, it’s-”

“On the street,” Keefe agrees, handing her back the paper. He shares one glance with his friends before meandering to his bike, slinging his leg over the seat.

Tam huffs a short laugh, grinning like he understands before he goes to hop on his own ride. Fitz is the last one behind, hands shoved in his pockets, just standing and smiling in amusement.

“You’re free, aren’t you?” Keefe implores. “We can make it quick. Drop you off back here - or wherever.”

Sophie chews on her lip. It is a tempting offer. She doesn’t really have a ride into the city planned, so it seems like the perfect opportunity. One quick ride, a few pictures, and she can leave. But that also means getting on a motorcycle. Which. . . kind of terrifies her.

“One ride, Foster,” Keefe promises, seeing the way she’s staring at the bike. “Does fifteen minutes sound good?”

Fifteen minutes is definitely enough time for her to get in a crash. Fifteen minutes is also definitely enough time for them to murder someone, but Sophie tries hard not to think about that.

Especially not when Keefe shrugs off his jacket and tosses it to her. Sophie catches it with a gasp, thankful that she doesn’t drop the camera. “Um,” she starts.

She cuts herself off when Fitz goes to his bike and pops open a back storage compartment. He snatches out a spare helmet, then waltzes back up onto the sidewalk next to her, reaching out his to trade the camera for the helmet.

Sophie swallows.

Seeing how nervous she is, he smiles, making a short nudge with his chin in the direction of the bike. “It’s up to you,” he promises.

“You won’t get hurt,” Keefe also assures. “You’ve got jeans on. And you wear that jacket and the helmet, you’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t like the fact that she has to take those precautionary measures in the first place. But, she guesses it’s just what one has to do. It’s like wearing a seatbelt in a car. This is the motorcycle’s seatbelt.

Sophie hands Fitz the camera and takes the helmet. She slips on the jacket, ignoring the heat that runs through her body at how nice it feels - and how Keefe looks at her.

Sophie clears her throat and puts the helmet on. Her fingers fumble horribly with the straps around her chin and no matter how much she tugs, she can’t get it right. Fitz has to come back over and help her, laughing gently. He narrates to her how to do it as he cinches it up for her with diligent fingers, smiling.

Sophie, however, is anything but smiling when he pulls away. There’s only one step left - to get on that bike with him, hold on tight to his waist, and pray that they don’t take her to some secondary location.

Sophie makes sure to look him in the eyes to know she’s serious. “You kill me, I kill you.”

Fitz chuckles. “Noted.”

[volantisand]

this just in - MARIANA “ MARI ” REYES has been in wickway for ( MORE THAN, BY NOW ) A MONTH. apparently SHE is a DANCER AT DRIFTWOOD and a CIVILIAN or so HER passport says. so far it’s known that SHE favors JOE AND GO, and resides at WEST PORT. SHE is also said to be LOYAL & CLEVER, but also CALCULATING & GUARDED. at the end of the day, SHE can be described as RED STAINED LIPS, DELICATE HANDS WIPING BLOOD OFF OF DAGGERS AND MISCHIEVOUS SMIRKS FOLLOWING UNDERESTIMATION.

hello again, loves !!! i bring you all the devil reincarnated herself, my baby mariana <33 her pinterest can be found anywhere here !! but it’s kinda messy

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 ▸

FULL NAME: MARIANA MERCEDES REYES

NICKNAME(S): MARI

NAME MEANING / PRONUNCIATION: MARIANA MEANING OF THE SEA  OR  BITTER. MERCEDES MEANING MERCIES. REYES MEANING KINGS. ( MA-REE-AH-NAH MER-SEH-DEHS RAY-YES  )

AGE: TWENTY FIVE

DATE OF BIRTH: APRIL 18TH

RANK / TITLE: CIVILIAN, EX-LEADER OF OUTSIDE GANG FROM HER HOMETOWN

OCCUPATION: DANCER AT DRIFTWOOD

HAIR COLOR:  DARK BROWN NEARLY BLACK

EYE COLOR: HAZEL  

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 ▸

POSITIVE: ATTENTIVE, ARTICULATE, CLEVER, CULTURED, DETERMINED, DRIVEN, INSIGHTFUL, LOYAL, PASSIONATE, PERCEPTIVE, PERFECTIONISTIC, PERSONABLE, SCRUPULOUS, WHIMSICAL

NEGATIVE: BLUNT, DISTRUSTING, HOT HEADED, SOMETIMES IMPULSIVE, GUARDED, METICULOUS, SARCASTIC, STOIC, STUBBORN

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 ▸

FATHER: VICTOR REYES ( alive )

MOTHER: LUCIA REYES CASTILLO ( alive )

SIBLINGS: TWO OLDER BROTHERS, AN OLDER SISTER AND A YOUNGER SISTER

CHILDREN: NONE

𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ▸

GANG(S): ANARCHY OF ROSEWICK ( formerly, it remains active ), CURRENTLY NOT AFFILIATED.

MARK: TATTOOED BIRD ON HER RIB CAGE, IT’S ACTUALLY SMALL BUT PIC ANYWHERE HERE and a few smaller little birds, much less detailed, surrounding it

POSITION / RANK: LEADER ( formerly )

WEAPON OF CHOICE: DAGGERS RARELY HAS A GUN.

YEARS AFFILIATED: EIGHT YEARS

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 / 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 ▸

born and raised in a fictional town called rosewick, she’s one of my past muses that has been adapted to come into wickway <33

she was named after her paternal grandmother. and had a very good relationship with both of her parents. growing up, she was always very in touch with her hispanic culture, adoring everything about her roots and then some. she began dancing before she could even walk properly and fell in love with it instantly. 

she’s also not very tall bc frankly, i’m not either so my muses suffer with me, 5′2 at best.. however, she wears heels nearly twenty four seven. unless, y’know at home, at the beach or... idk working out. 

having been born on the 18th of april, she is an aries. 

“ Fun, free-spirited, and fiercely independent, the Aries woman is a breath of fresh air – a brightly burning candle in human form. Fire is her element, igniting all that she touches with the living spark of life. The Aries personality is creative, passionate, energetic and – at times – domineering and short-tempered. A cardinal sign ruled by the planet Mars, the Ram is great at getting things going, initiating endeavors, and infusing her enthusiasm into everything she does ”

true to herself, and her zodiac sign, mariana is a vixen. a total coquette but dangerous. we’ll get there, though !! first... lil fun fact: dance was a major part of her life, she often won competitions with flying colors and excelled in every routine taught to her.

she was seventeen when she met jacob day, captain of the college’s baseball team. their star pitcher. and eventually, her boyfriend. he was older than her, two years. but he was sweet and romantic. at least, at first. jacob day would prove to be the absolute worst thing to ever happen to her. 

a few months later, he’d become a junkie, paying other kids to take the athletic drug tests for him and eventually - he got abusive. she stuck around because he had never gotten physical, only verbal. and most days he was still the same boy she thought she’d fallen in love with. most days.

he was twenty the night he died and she was eighteen the night she killed him. he’d laid a hand on her a few weeks prior to that wretched night. they were at a party, not unlike high schoolers their age who think they’re grown when they’re absolutely not. they’d gone up to the second floor of the lake house so she could find a bathroom. he grew irritated with the young girl in the bathroom and laid hands on her once again. only this time, her temper got the best of her. he was drunk, rendered a bit slower and a lot taller than her. she was quick and agile and while she tells herself that she hadn’t meant for him to die. deep down, she knows that she did. he had laid lifeless in a pool of his own blood and she had stared, her own once pristine hands stained with the crimson of the very same blood. 

she had acted fast after having realized he was very much dead and washed the blood off of her hands. moments later, she was calling her late uncle’s wife, her lawful aunt and the woman who had taken over the gang her uncle once led. she showed up a while later and the two left the lake house, leaving behind a spotless bathroom and absolutely no evidence of mariana’s crimes.   

she took her under her wing, agreed to protect her under the promise of her joining the gang. mariana sat a few hours later, on eliana’s couch with a fresh small tattoo on her ribcage linking her to the gang. 

it didn’t take long for the leader and her to actually get to know each other, having not had any solid relationship when her uncle was alive. one year later, eliana named mariana her second in command. of course, no one understood why on earth, a girl who had just barely turned nineteen could be given such a high power. not even mariana herself understood it.

two years later, she rose to the throne following eliana’s death. by then, she had been completely molded by the late leader and had been taught everything she could possibly need. and then some. mariana was trained in combat, gang ties, suppliers and how to keep them happy as well as game plans to ensure that anarchy remain at the top. 

the gang loved her, she was an intelligent girl that had lost a lot at a young age. it toughened her up. and the suppliers loved her because... she was never late on a payment.   

when mariana became the leader, she shifted blake dietrich’s position to second in command. it only seemed fair, he was her best friend. her partner in crime and the sole person she absolutely trusted with her life as well as secrets. though, they’ve known each other for a lot longer than before she made him her right hand man. 

they kept the gang upright together. matter of fact, anarchy had never been better since they were in charge. she was young and pretty, looked anything but what she really was. it gave anarchy the upper hand because everyone else knew exactly who their leader was but did not believe it. she was hidden in plain sight without having to hide at all. 

underestimation, often drove her to do better. those who dared to be verbal with their doubts, died. she, herself, was lethal and absolutely ruthless. her middle name, mercedes meaning mercies, was the most ironic thing to have ever happened. she finds it funny and throws it in the faces of others. 

“ the only merciful thing about me is in my name. ”

she and blake have spent a few months maybe even a year, on the run, after having been walking on eggshells in rosewick. as powerful as a gang can be... it’s only as powerful as its weakest member. and because of a slip up on their end, blake and mariana were compromised. of course, she would rather die than snitch on her own kind - though had they snitched, they probably wouldn’t have had to leave their home. mariana packed her bags and even blake’s before grabbing him and all but dragging him out of rosewick.

they spent some time traveling around the states, living their best lives before mari mentioned the island and now... here they are. 

though, with power like mariana’s and blake’s, they’ve fallen under the santoro gang’s radar. they’re being watched with interest, the main goal being that they join them.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ▸

honestly, anything !!

[hetalialoverwrites]

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Part 8

First  -  Previous  -  Next

        Gathering in the kitchen in Auradon, you were all surprised at just how pristine it was for a moment before Mal snapped you all out of it. "Alright, let's get started. Jay, Carlos, you two are in charge of getting the ingredients. (Y/n), you and I will be getting the equipment and the oven turned on. E, you're in charge of the recipe. Got it?" Mal called out, receiving positives on that before everyone got started. Evie was calling out things left and right as everyone rushed around. After about 10 minutes, you were almost done with the recipe. "Okay, it says we need one tear of real human sadness." Evie read. "Well, that leaves us out." You said, looking to Mal. "Huh?" Carlos questioned. You and Mal gave him a look, "We aren't human?" Mal reminded him. "Oh yeah. Forgot about that." Carlos nodded, a look of realization on his face. You and Mal felt a little happy that your friends saw the both of you as normal.

        "Well it can't be me. I've got eyeliner on and we don't know what makeup will do to it," Evie added primly. "A tear is a tear. We can just chop up some onion." Jay practically groaned. "That's not true Jay, they both have antibodies and enzymes, but an emotional tear has more protein-based hormones than a reflex tear." Evie schooled him, looking a little smugly. Mal smiled, "Listen to you." She teased playful. Jay grinned, "Yeah I knew that." "Did not." Carlos lightly hit his arm. "Yeah, I did." Jay joked. The door opened and Lonnie peaked her head out, "There you are Mal, (Y/n)! I was looking for you." Evie hid her mirror in her skirt. "You know, all the girls want you two to do their hair." Lonnie sighed out happily before looking down, "What are you guys doing?" "Just making cookies," Mal replied, stirring with the whisk. Lonnie leaned forward and reached in, taking some of the batter and tasting it, setting everyone on edge.

        "What? I'm not gonna double dip," Lonnie said, holding up her hands. "Do you... Feel anything?" You asked. Jay smirked and walked forward, leaning on the counter, "Hey." He tried with a deep voice. Lonnie stared at him weirdly before faking a small smile and turning her attention back to you three girls, "Well it could use some chips." She chirped. "Chips?" Jay asked, confused as Lonnie went over to the fridge. You and Mal sighed in relief and Evie and Carlos relaxed, "And those are?" Mal asked. "Chocolate chips. Just the most important food group." Lonnie joked, pulling out a small glass bowl of them and walking back to the table you were working on. "Wait, didn't your moms ever make you guys, like, chocolate chip cookies?" Lonnie asked, taking a handful and scattering them in the batter. You, Mal, and Evie looked at her with slight confusion. Lonnie continued, "Like, when you're feeling sad and they're fresh from the oven with a big old glass of milk and she just makes you laugh and puts everything into perspective." Lonnie breathed out a laugh, feeling warm as remembered times with her mother.

        She opened her eyes and looked around the now somber room. No... That never happened on the Isle... "Why are you all looking at me like that?" Lonnie asked, still not understanding. Mal shook herself from her thoughts and went back to stirring, "It's just different from where we are from." Lonnie looked around and laughed a bit nervously, "Well I mean, yeah, I get that. But I figured even villains... love their kids..." Her voice lost its confidence as she ended her sentence with a small, "Oh..." She looked down and took in a breath before looking at Jay and Carlos, who looked uncomfortable and sad. "How awful..." Lonnie reached out and held Mal's hand as a tear rolled down her face. You reached out and wiped it away gently, secretly flicking it into the batter and Mal stored quickly. "It's okay Lonnie, don't worry about us. See you later." You gently removed her from the room before entering again to see Mal ordering everyone around. "(Y/n), parchment paper!" Mal called. "On it!" You called back, jogging to the sheet box and grabbing some as the boys grabbed the cookie sheets. 

         The next day, you and Mal were swarmed with girls wanting their hair done so just to get it over with, you and Mal separated the girls by who wanted it long and who wanted it short and worked your magic after that. Luckily it wasn't too much and you were able to go to classes without being late. After Remedial Goodness, your last class of the day because of the Tourney competition, you went to your locker to put your books away. "It's (Y/n)!" You heard a girl yell excitedly. You turned to see a table of the girls you and Mal cast magic on earlier. They all waved happily at you and gave various thanks as you waved to them and opened your locker. "Hey, are you feeling kind of weird about this?" Jay asked from next to you, making you jump and turn around, slapping him in the face with your wings. He groaned in pain and you gasped, "I am so sorry Jay! Are you okay!?" You exclaimed, your hands hovering over his face. He rubbed his jaw and grinned, "Nice one. I'm fine, just hurts is all." He replied. You gave him a pout and waved your hand, "Heal." You commanded the magic.

        Jay was shocked to find the pain went away before switching topics, "Are you feeling kind of weird about this?" He asked, "I mean, it's not so bad here, you know." He smirked. You looked at him shocked, "Are you... What...? Jay, what about our parents?" You asked, pulling back as if you had been struck. Jay's eyes widened, "(Y/n)-" "Our parents have been rotting on that island for much longer than we have and for some of it, we were too young to remember. This is our chance to get them out of there." Your voice was almost pleading with him to understand. "Snap out of it!" Jay blinked at you before smirking, "Thanks, I needed that." Jay nodded happily before going to greet the girls at that table, who were all excited to see him as he flirted with them. You were taking out the magic cookie in a little plastic bag from your locker when you heard a prissy voice complaining, "It's gateway magic! Sure, it starts with the hair. Next thing you know it’s the lips and the clothes and then everyone looks good! And then where will I be?" Audrey whined. "Listen, Audrey-" Ben sighed before he was cut off by his girlfriend. "I will see you at the game after my dress fitting for the coronation, okay?" She told him with a slightly stressed voice.

        "Okay." Ben agreed easily. "Bye Benny boo!" Audrey air-kissed him before leaving. "Bye..." Ben drawled dully. You grabbed the bag and shut your locker, "Oh Benny boo." You called cheerfully, teasing him with a small chuckle as he turned around. Ben paused around, looking for who called him like that before smiling and walking closer, "Hey." You met him in the middle, "I just made a batch of cookies last night. Double chocolate chip." You said, holding up the Ziplock bag with the cookie, "Want one?" You asked, eyes shining happily. "Oh, uh, I, I got a big game. I don't eat before a big game. But thank you so, so much. Thank you, next time, next time." Ben patted you on the arm, trying to leave quickly. You laughed a little bitterly, catching his attention immediately, "Yeah, okay. I get it." He turned around to look at you confused as you continued with a slightly hurt smile. "Don't take treats offered by kids of villains. I understand." You shook your head, looking down at the bag. Ben shook his head, "No, no, no-" You continued on, "It's smart, really. I totally get it, you're cautious." You nodded along with your words. "No, no, no, it's not that. No, I-I really have a-" Ben looked back in the direction of the field as it to emphasize his point.

        You took out the cookie and looked at it, knowing it was spelled. You made it with Mal, the first time you two had ever made any sweets before. You held it up, "It's probably not even good, it was the first time I've ever made cookies anyway... I'll just go throw it away-" "No, no, hey-!" Ben snatched the cookie in one fell swoop and bit into it, "See that?" He asked while he chewed. "Totally trust you. This is your first-time making cookies. It's actually pretty good. Great first try." Ben praised. "How are they?" You asked, not noticing your friends creeping up behind you to watch. "They're good! They're great! They're amazing!" Ben emphasized his praise while chuckling. He swallowed a bit as he continued, "I mean, they're chewy which everyone loves. Is that walnuts?" He asked, smiling as you nodded. "I love walnuts. I uh, I mean. You know the... Uh... The chocolate..." Ben cleared his throat, his mind foggy. "The chocolate chips are... I'm sorry, um... They're..." Ben drifted off, looking down at the cookie before slowly looking up into your eyes. "They're warm and soft... They're sweet..." Ben complimented, his voice drifting into a warm and gentle tone.

        "(Y/n)... Have you always had those little red flakes in your eyes?" Ben asked, moving to take another bite of the cookie. You grabbed ahold of it and pulled it out of his grasp, putting it back in the Ziplock. Mal took it and spelled it away as Jay held Ben's shoulder and arm. "How you feeling... Bro?" He asked, a smirk on his face. "I feel... I feel... I feel like... Like singing your name! (Y/n)! (Y/-" You reached out quickly and put your hands over Ben's mouth, embarrassed. Ben put an arm around your waist and looked down at you. You laughed a bit, "Don't you have a game to go to?" You asked. Ben blinked for a moment and had to get pulled away by Jay to get to the game. Once you were out of sight, he found it easier to think about the game. Lonnie jogged up to you, Mal, and Evie, "Ready for the game?" She asked excitedly. Without waiting for a response, she took your hand and started pulling you to the stands, knowing Mal and Evie would follow.

[connorssock]

Breadstick here with a prompt! I've been really into an AU I've been seeing around where Gavin AND Nines are both androids, so maybe something about how those two get together for the first time? I just love the idea of busted faulty GV200 and top-of-the-line RK900 falling in love even though they're both disasters at having feelings

Ah! Breadsticks, dude! This is such a fun prompt, thank you.

Cats and Dogs

The unspoken wisdom around the precinct was, that if you were going to bring a new android into work, you’d better make the introductions to the resident androids (or rather, one specific cranky android) very delicately. If only CyberLife had gotten that memo when they blindly sent the RK900 model in, specifically to replace any derelict, outdated models the DPD wanted to decommission.

“Well, well well,” Gavin grinned without an ounce of kindness. “Fresh off the production line?”

He eyed the RK900 up and down with disdain as he sipped at his mug. Androids didn’t really need to drink, in fact it could be downright harmful to their internal workings, but Gavin had developed a taste to coffee and refused to give it up even when the technicians implored he stop the needless habit. He thought it made him seem more human -  self destructive habit like Anderson’s drinking and Chen’s smoking.

“I am the latest model built for efficiency in aiding police and crime investigation works. And you are?”

There was a hint of snobbish pity in RK900′s voice that had Gavin bristling. Before he could reply, RK900 scanned him and answered his own question.

“GV200, designation Gavin. CyberLife no longer makes parts compatible for your model so you’re a patchwork of make-do fixes that work because of wishful thinking rather than competent technology. I’m surprised the DPD were desperate enough to keep you on. No doubt I’ll be replacing you.”

Rage flooded through Gavin and he almost upended his cup over the front of RK900′s pristine white jacket.

“You’ll replace me when you figure out how to incorporate social protocols into your matrix. Though I doubt you could do break it into your programming even if you manually input the code line by line you stuck up prick,” he seethed.

“And I suppose you’re such an expert on social integration. I’ve accessed your personnel file. A string of partners, none of which could tolerate you longer than two weeks at most. A single human companion in the form of an Officer to keep you company most times and pull you out of trouble. Next you’ll be telling me you’re one of the original deviants.”

Neither of the missed the way Gavin’s LED flashed red. It wasn’t a term Gavin used often, in fact he avoided it as much as possible. In all of his existence he’d always known he was faulty, had a glitch that made him volatile unlike all other androids. The DPD kept him on despite it, putting it down to a temperamental, experimental code.

“A prototype that was never continued into a marketable model. Faulty right from the start.” RK900 stared Gavin down as he stood ramrod straight, military perfect posture and all.

“Like you’re going to be any better,” Gavin snipped but the fight had gone from him. RK900 had hit a nerve.

“I am the improvement. The RK800 line was the prototype and I am the finished product. Superior in every way.While you effectively ended the GV line before it even began.”

Gavin snarled, his cup came dangerously close to tipping. Before he could launch himself at the self-righteous prick in a feral way, Fowler called them both to his office.

They were to be the first android team on the force. An experimental combination of new technology paired with the tried and tested. No amount of arguing, refusal or bargaining moved Fowler and Gavin stormed from the room in one of the foulest fits of temper that anybody could remember.

They all hoped that given time, things would smooth out but they couldn’t be more wrong. The competition between the two androids escalated on a daily basis. Usually Gavin would leave his paperwork until the last possible moment and then hastily do the bare minimum he could get away with. It was no secret that when not on a case, he spent most of his time watching cat videos and drinking coffee. But he was such a staple at the precinct, nobody had the heart to report him. Fowler knew what he got up to, but Gavin got results when they were needed.

The morning Gavin strolled in with his LED conspicuously missing from his temple, people began to talk. He was the first android in active service to have done so and people muttered about it. However, his moods were still just as easy to read without the usually red flickering LED to indicate he was grumpy.

Productivity from him shot up with the arrival of RK900. Gavin worked through his backlog of paperwork, closed older cases before his partner could even get near them and smugly informed RK900 that his services were, yet again, not needed. He was a perfectly capable member of the police force without some fancy newer model propping him up like some geriatric, wonky kettle.

It had become the expected that when the two of them arrived at a crime scene, Gavin would hop out of the car as soon as he parked and set about surveying. RK900 would be slower in his approach and talk to the officers present before making his own circuit to assess the evidence.

“Hey,” Gavin called over, “hey Nines!”

There was an amount of glee in his voice as he prodded at something in the fridge. Cautiously, RK900 approached, curious about the newest development and the sudden nickname Gavin seemed to have bestowed upon him.

“Dare you to sample this,” Gavin prodded the slightly mouldy jelly in the fridge with a gloved finger and watched it wobble with glee.

“Why would I do such a thing?” RK900 asked and subtly scanned Gavin. “And when was the last time you entered stasis?”

“Because it would be hilarious to watch you lick it,” Gavin replied and looked over with a slightly manic glint in his eyes. “Stasis is for the weak. I had shit to do.”

After a moment’s hesitation, RK900 reached towards the jelly too. He carefully brushed against Gavin’s exposed wrist and forced a surface level interface. Before Gavin could jerk away, he got brief hints of worry, the need to look useful, panic that if he was outdone by RK900 then he’d be destroyed. They were such human worries, RK900 blinked in surprise and missed the scowl Gavin sent his way, filled with bitter betrayal.

The next day RK900 wasn’t quite as efficient as before. He even left work for the next day. It absolutely did not have anything with the tentative blossom of fondness that had seeped over the interface along with the exhaustion of keeping up.

After a few days Gavin seemed a little less harassed by life and his clutch on his mug of coffee seemed to loosen. If RK900 got him a coffee with a splash of thirium in it, nobody needed to know.

It seemed that the competition between the two of them settled a little. Gavin no longer charged bullheaded into situations without RK900′s knowledge. He still didn’t wait for his partner, but at least there was a modicum of acknowledgement that they arrived together and at least got briefed at the same time.

Of course the truce couldn’t last. While Gavin had taken to outwardly calling RK900 Nines, there were still moments where they clashed. Violently. One such instance was, ironically, the hostage situation that developed within the station. A group of suspects, brought in for questioning on a drug ring by a rookie saw the opportunity to get even. One of them grabbed a gun and held the arresting officer in a stranglehold, gun aimed at his head.

“Nobody move!” the suspect screamed. “Drop your weapons and push them to us.”

The precinct bullpen was helpless to do anything but obey and the other suspects grabbed weapons. Nines and Gavin exchanged looks. One looked exasperated while the other grinned sharply.

There was no way to predict the next few seconds. They both drew their guns, Nines dispatched of three of the suspects with precision shots to shoulders and legs to disable while Gavin took out two. There were still three of them left and Gavin charged.

“Aim for the human!” one to the suspects yelled and a shot clipped Gavin in the chest.

He stopped mid charge and looked down at the hole in his chest. The smile he turned his head back up with was cold as thirium soaked his shirt.

“Oops,” he said before launching forward again.

He quickly decked the stunned suspect and turned as Nines was advancing on the remaining two. Nines’ LED flickered yellow and a moment later he threw his gun up into the air. All eyes were on it, distracted from Gavin taking a running jump and using Nines’ braced body as a springboard. He followed the gun up and twisted midair to fire two shots at the suspects. His landing on the table in front of Nines was loud and he hopped off it with an easy smile.

“You fucking idiot!”

Everybody flinched as Nines yelled. He prowled towards Gavin, LED red.

“Is the last line of your self-preservation code degrading? They could have shot you in the pump!”

Nines cornered Gavin, his fingers brushed over the sluggishly leaking hole in his chest and they came away tinged blue.

“Gross,” Gavin laughed weakly as Nines licked his fingers clean.

“Your thirium is incompatible with mine.”

“So?” Gavin shrugged.

“You’re experiencing 37% thirium loss. At over 54% loss your systems will begin to shut down. Only advanced models can function with 70% loss. Not you. And I can’t give you a transfer,” Nines’ voice was softer as he bracketed Gavin’s body against a wall.

“I know,” Gavin replied easily. His eyes were wide though as he searched Nines’ face, ignored the LED flashing a harsh red. “Rather me than you. You’re here to replace me anyway.”

“You idiot,” Nine huffed out a teary laugh.

His hand linked with Gavin’s skin peeled back in invitation, completely oblivious to the rest of the precinct around them, the suspects being cuffed and lead away. A gasp went up around them when Gavin’s skin slowly peeled back, not as smooth as Nines’. It was a later upgrade he’d had patched in, originally he was never meant to have been able to pull his skin back.

Their hands linked and a soft blue light emanated from their connection. It glowed brighter with each second and flashed into an almost white when their lips met in a gentle kiss.

If anybody ever thought about replacing Gavin with a newer model, they were quickly dissuaded by Nines’ cold stare and formidable bulk towering over them. His loyalty to the precinct was never questioned but everybody knew that in his world, Gavin came first.

[sunsiac]

king and queen / jaehyun [6]

genre: murder mystery, romance, angst

member: jaehyun

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

summary: a young prince and a knight’s daughter are an unlikely pair, but nonetheless, these two were attached at the hip as children. without any royal duty or stress, it proved to be an unexpected yet beautiful friendship.even as they grew up together, they only developed to be more inseparable. they proved this when she, hakyeong turned 16, and he, jaehyun, gave her one of the most precious gifts he could; both of their first kisses. but it was bad timing. their respective responsibilities dawned on them quicker than they would’ve imagined, forcing them to grow apart. 5 years later, the both of them 21, meet again after jaehyun’s older brother who is about to be crowned king is found dead. A string of murders throughout the castle force them to come together and find the one behind it before one of them is next.

—

THIRD P.O.V

Word seems to travel fast in a place where nothing ever happens. That was the thought in the back of everyone's mind as the latest circled around quicker than wildfire.

'the prince's friend is on trial for his murder,'

'Lee Hakyeong? Isn't she a knight?'

It was heartbreaking for her to walk through the halls with a straight face, ignoring the occasional point or whisper from those who gossiped thought she wouldn't hear. In those moments, she pulled the first layer of inferiority across her heart, and it only grew thicker with the passing minutes, the number of reasons to do so growing greater. This, she thought, was similar to her own personal hell.

Meanwhile, it wasn't any easier for the man on the other side.

The moment she had left his office, he carded his fingers through his neat black hair, unsure of how he was going to make this work after all. His plan to indict Lee Hakyeong wasn't exactly a pristine one, there being obvious faults in between her words and his. The stories didn't match up at all, not even a little, but he was hoping the general audience would believe him before they did her.

But, the picture of her expression as he told her she would be put on trial for Hyeonsik's murder, one that the both of them knew she didn't commit, had seared itself painfully into his memory. Maybe he wasn't smart to do it, after all.

He looked down at his hands in the comfort of his office, his unsteady breaths racking through the otherwise silent room. Though Hyeonsik had been killed around a week ago, he could still clearly imagine the blood on his hands, the opaque liquid dripping off his fingers and on to the marble flooring of the prince's bedroom.

Some days he hated his decision to kill Hyeonsik, the thoughts that always came bombarding after it sending shivers down his spine as he tried to convince himself that what he had done had been coming for a while, and there was nothing he could do now that the plan had come into action. But, another part of him, the part he had eventually given into, told him that is was fine, that this didn't make him any less of a man. Because, after all, the world was nothing but competition.

His firm belief was that to get something, you had to be the one that wasn't afraid to accept something to put you ahead in the race. That was what he told himself to stick to now, the belief that he was just the only one brave enough to accept the leap.

He may not have any lingering regrets, but, boy, was he scared.

It wasn't every day something like this happened, something that couldn't be resolved quickly. That was part of the reason that nothing ever seemed to happen; because when it did, they were quick to clean it up quietly. He knew this was only like a stump in the road that may or may not give them a flat tire, but was one they could ultimately recover from.

That was part of the reason he was glad of his position. He could potentially slow progress down and direct them away with no suspicions, plainly because he was the royal supervisor and nothing else. At least, he hoped he could. Even he could never predict or control what the candidates thought, and what happened was usually just left to fate. Which side it leaned towards, well, they would usually find that out after it happened.

The general public of the castle hadn't been informed yet, which the both of them were grateful for, but there was one person that was made sure to know of it almost right away.

His fist slammed down harshly against the finished glass of the table as he was informed, his expression undeterminable and his chest sinking low. Jaehyun knew that Hakyeong hadn't killed Hyeonsik, she hadn’t. She couldn't have. He knew that he didn't know her anymore, not by any means, but no matter how much she could have changed, Hakyeong was not that type of person. He refused to believe it.

The memory of her forced smile and pained eyes yesterday at the funeral came rushing into him, only further convincing him that he was right. She was never that good of an actress, after all.

The thoughts ping-ponged back and forth in Jaehyun's head, the entirety of everything giving the man a headache. But, it made him so angry that he was still stubborn enough in his belief to turn to his guard, and say with a low snarl,

"Are they out of their mind? Tell whoever made this decision to see me. Now."

The guard left soon enough, almost terrified by the quick change in the prince's demeanour. Jaehyun covered his face with his hands and shut his eyes, wondering why he still let himself get so affected. The simple answer he had for himself was only that he knew that whoever had finalised this now was wrong about her, and they had brought that on everyone. At least, he prayed they were.

But, no matter how much he thought about it, it didn't sit right. The image of Hakyeong, the girl who had accepted Hyeonsik's blatant attempt of friendship after Jaehyun didn't have the time to be see her anymore, who always smiled with Hyeonsik and was right by his side, by Hyeonsik’s bedside late at night with a-

He opened his eyes at a knock on the door, his earlier thoughts diminishing as the door opened to the reveal the supervisor. This came as no surprise to Jaehyun, but he still found room to be so.

"Your majesty," He bowed as the guard shut the door behind him. Jaehyun didn't greet him back, his frown growing with every step the other man took.

"Sit,"

The supervisor almost laughed. It was almost comical, this situation. He would normally be the one to say that, after all. But, he did, folding his hands as he awaited the prince's anticipated words. He knew it was unlikely, but he hoped he wouldn't be cut this short. He'd worked much too hard for that to be possible.

"You made your decision, I see?" The prince asked, making the supervisor look up and nod.

Jaehyun shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable at his confidence. "What means was this based on?"

The supervisor subconsciously felt his shoulders relax. He had been prepared for this question.

"Are you aware of the past this young woman has had?" He asked the prince, unaware himself that Jaehyun already knew most of the things he was about to say. "Being this close to Sir Hyeonsik with something like that hanging onto her, I'm surprised we didn't think of this sooner,"

Jaehyun almost scoffed. Her past meant nothing to her anymore, and he knew that for sure.

"Do you ever miss your parents?" He'd asked this once, when they were walking out of the crown room after talking to his mother.

She turned to him as they walked, giving him a small smile and shaking her head casually. "No, I try not to,"

This confused him. "What? Why not?"

"I know they wouldn't want me to cry over them. I know it sounds cheesy, but that's just the kind of people they were," she had explained.

"You've got to miss them, though, Hakyeong. You're human,"

"I mean, I do miss them. I am human," She agreed, laughing. "But it's easier to pretend that I don't."

"First," The supervisor brought Jaehyun back by holding up a single digit, "Both of her parents died in action when she was a young age, potentially leaving her with trauma,"

He knew this, of course, but in no way had she ever been troubled by this. He knew that Hakyeong had always been happy with the Nakamotos, having no trouble referring to them as her family

But, he didn't say this, instead just sighing. "What else?"

"Are you aware that she was in debt recently?"

Jaehyun rose a brow. He was not, but he didn't see how that mattered in this case.

"What does that matter?" He asked, making the supervisor chuckle.

"It was paid off only recently," He started, "She could have been desperate for money. And while I don't have access to things like this, I assume you know that as someone close to the prince, she could have possibly been offered compensation after his death. I also suggest the possibility of money laundering, since the compensation alone wouldn’t have covered everything at once.”

His brows furrowed, and he hated that he saw the logic in it.

"But," He trailed off as he unintentionally let out, "She's always been a saver. How do you not know if she paid it off by saving up money?"

"I don't.” He admitted, sealing Jaehyun’s prior beliefs. “But, please understand my decision to do this,"

Jaehyun just sighed, hating that to a normal person, this would be evidence enough. So, he just nodded and dismissed him, still unbelievably confused.

Though he didn't really take anything the supervisor had said to heart, he couldn't help but fear that he had been right all along, that she had changed. That she had killed him.

But he didn't want to think about that

—

The rest of Hakyeong's walk back to the dorm was, thankfully, a quiet and mostly unbothered one. Aside from the occasional expected stare or two, she remained unbothered until she shut the door to her dorm room, pushing her back against it as she let out an unsteady breath.

Hakyeong knew, or at least thought, that there was nothing she could've done to avoid everything that had just happened. Though, this thought did leave her wondering how in the world the supervisor had come to his conclusion, seeing as nothing he'd said to her had been true.

With shaky steps, she made her way over to her bed, sitting down and shrugging off her jacket. She folded it in her arms, fully ready to delve back into her thoughts before a small object fell out of the pocket and landed on the floor.

The colour confused her at first, as she had no idea where it would have come from. At least, before she remembered the letter. With a sigh, she picked the small piece of ribbon up, twisting in between her fingers.

'what would the queen think of me now?'

She racked her brain for anything, any reason that this would be happening, but she came up blank. She determined that maybe someone had merely just mistaken someone else for her that night, and she was just unlucky. That she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Hakyeong decided that she didn't want to cry, telling herself not to get upset over something that wasn't true. Because if it wasn't true, then nothing would happen.

Or, at least she hoped.

— 

<< previous - next >>