#the pen chooses the author;; ooc

[angelshadowsinger]

oh my fucking god your work is incredible! holy literal shit balls i have never felt that entranced by a fanfiction until reading yours. thank u thank u thank u your azriel is PERFECT.

also i’m totally gonna need your thoughts on azriel sharing with his shadows 👀

re: ummmmmmm call me parmesan bc u got me CHEESIN!?!?!! that is literally sO sweet of you to say, i am touched 🥺 as a fic author you always worry if you’re making the character OOC and, it just makes me so happy to hear your praise!! thank you so much anon~ ♥︎ This HC is a bit more than what you’ve asked for, but it does includes it, so pls enjoy!

Azriel’s Shadows Around his Mate Headcanons

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

In my eyes, Azriel’s shadows are a part of him. There hasn’t been much insight that Maas has given us with shadowsingers and their capabilities in general, but this is what I choose to believe~

Since Azriel’s shadows were perhaps the first of his powers, and the first entity to treat him with some kindness/obedience, I think he would be very in tune with them and he himself would consider them a part of him. He has had over 500 years to develop his relationship with them and therefore, I believe once he found his mate, his shadows would be just as captivated with her as he himself.

Obviously, Azriel is a total simp for his girl (but that’s another hc in its own), so that means his shadows are too. Honestly, it could be viewed as annoying how often at least a few of his shadows are constantly at your side. He’s used to having them totally loyal to him, so now that he has to share them with you… well, it’s not really actually that cumbersome, because he knows that even when you two are apart, he’ll be sure to know if you need him/his help. Though he has a couple less to send out on his spymaster business, technically, the ones with you are acting as his spies anyway. Just, with a far more interesting and important subject.

His shadows do a variety of things for you, making your everyday life easier and more pleasant. Just as their master, the shadows like to give you princess treatment.

For example, they go out of their way to help you with mundane things. If you’re making dinner and a tomato rolls off the cutting board, they’re pushing it back to you. When you’re putting on a dress, they’re helping you with the zip and clasp. If you’re writing something and your pen runs out of ink, somehow they’ve procured a new one that matches your exact preferences.

Both Az and his shadows notice the small things. They take notes of your likes and dislikes, what makes you giggle, cry, or provides you comfort.

At times when he’s away for a long while, and you’re missing him, they will deliver small gifts to you. A couple flowers tied with twine, native to the strange lands he’s currently working in. A special spice he knows you love to use in the foods you share with him. An especially-delicious pastry made with your favorite fruit/flavor. Though the shadows themselves do not find you gifts, they are happy to deliver whatever Az requests they send.

They also will take anything you wish to send him. Whether he’s in another country, or simply training at the House of Wind with his brothers, his shadows will deliver your every gift. Most of the time it’s little sweets or a lunch you’ve packed. Sometimes when you’re feeling cheekier, a receipt from the lingerie store informing him of your latest purchase. If you’re really feeling brazen, sometimes the panties themselves. His shadows are perhaps happiest to carry those items, either to get into contact with them or to see their master’s red cheeks as he shoves them out of his brothers’ view.

His shadows are your caretaker when he is not with you. When you’ve fallen asleep staying up for your mate’s return from yet another mission, his shadows will tuck you under your favorite blanket, taking off your reading glasses and ensuring your spot in the open book on your lap is not lost. Az nearly melts when he comes back to the sight, you dead asleep on the couch in front of the blazing hearth, his shadows perched dutifully there, guarding you.

However, they grow attached to you and even when he is with you, they will not leave you alone unless he commands them.

Azriel likes to take full advantage of his time alone with you. There is nothing he finds more comfort and pleasure in than being in your embrace. Sometimes that’s hard to do, though, when his shadows steal away your attention, or beat him to helping you with the zip of your dress.

It’s a very endearing sight to see him get jealous of his own shadows. He’d have a scowl on his face as he glared at them, silently ordering them to leave your side so he could have you all to himself. The shadows would melt onto the floor, gloomy in a way, whisper once more around your ankle before they go off to fulfill their master’s instruction.

Most of the time, you manage to guilt your mate into letting a few of them come back. And as soon as he calls them, they appear and shoot right for you. Az rolls his eyes but of course he understands. How could they not fall in love with you?

Azriel is actually very good with sharing. This usually applies to you when his shadows are involved, though sometimes he just needs to be alone with you. Whether it’s to have his way with you or just to snuggle up and bask in his mate’s presence. When he needs time like that, he will have his shadows guard your quarters and they will do so without question— fiercely protecting the only two beings they care for.

~spicy hc’s begin ;)~

Most of the time, Azriel will take the lead in pleasuring you— as he should, as your mate— but he’s likely to let his shadows watch or join his efforts if they play a supporting role.

For example, his favorite thing is to be between your legs, feasting on your sweet cunt and making sure you know you are his, while his shadows hold you down so you can’t move an inch. This way, you have to take the pleasure in the exact way he desires, unable to greedily chase your high or buck your hips or push him away.

Usually he plays with you for a while like this, teasing you and edging you a handful of times before he’s ruthless, unstopping even after you’ve come. He does cease his ravishing after you’ve come again, only to ensure he doesn’t overstimulate you before he’s had a chance to fuck you like you both want.

His shadows are happy to shackle you and render you helpless to his onslaught of pleasure; they love hearing your wanton cries and will dry away any tears of pleasure that escape with a cool, ghostly caress.

Speaking of their caress, one of his favorite uses for them is to soothe your skin when he’s done marking it up. Meaning, after every spank or particularly hard bite, the shadows will rove over the irritated flesh, kissing you with their cooling tendrils.

Since the shadows are slightly cold, sending them to curl around your nipples while he fucks you from behind is also another favorite. The temperature-play heightens everything— especially when they move down your curves to tease at your clit or your ass, depending on your preference…

Sometimes he lets them fuck you as part of your foreplay— usually while you’re sucking his cock. He just loves the surprise that flickers in your eyes when you’re choking on the length of him deep in your throat, how your lashes flutter when that familiar cool touch tickles your inner thighs and pushes your wet panties aside, how your moan feels vibrating around him when they thrust inside of you. He savors how your rhythm gets thrown, how you struggle to continue when his shadows are running over every sensitive crevice of your most intimate parts.

On rarer occasions, Azriel will let the shadows have their way with you. He’d sit back in a comfortable, wing-friendly armchair, darkened hazel eyes drinking in every movement before him— you with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the darkness holding your legs spread and fondling every inch of you— cupping your tender breasts, tweaking those pert, hard nipples… stroking your face, your hair, your hips and thighs… flowing over your puffy clit, slipping between your dripping folds and even wandering inside of you, perhaps just as deep as Azriel’s cock could reach. He would jerk his leaking shaft at the sight before him, lip held prisoner in his feral snarl. He wouldn’t be able to last very long, the sight before him too much for him to keep his composure.

When you’re both spent and panting for breath, the shadows will run up and down your moistened back, taking away the heat that lingers there and helping to lull you to sleep.

Only when you’re unconscious do they return to Azriel, curling around his shoulders in thanks. They know they are lucky to be the sole creature/presence with which he shares his mate, and any time spent with you is valued payment for the many services they provide their master with.

[themusechronicles]

Gonna start just posting what's in my queue. Replies will be done and I will be keeping an eye on them in order to reply from the new blog I have under construction.

To those wondering, I will not be posting this new url publicly. A recent event triggered me to the point that now just logging in on this blog gives me intense anxiety and all of you deserve to interact with me without me having to fight down a panic attack. While I go aboit doing this new blog, anyone interested in following me can contact me via messenger here, or discord about the new url.

[another-emotional-wreck]

Title: Movie Night

Pairings: None except for a hint of Monica x Peter cause they're cute imo I'm sorry

Summary: Movie night with the Hex trio and Peter... until it's not. Also, metallokinetic Peter.

Warnings: No warnings as far as I know, but there's angst and a decent amount of fluff

Word Count: 2.2k words

Author's Note: This is my first fic for anything Marvel/Xmen related. Kinda nervous but mostly excited. Feedback is really appreciated as there's a pretty good chance a lot some of the character's actions could be pretty ooc.

*******************************************************************

“Wait… what?” Peter asked for what had to have been the millionth time. For a guy who could run fast, it was seriously taking him way too long to get this.

Darcy sighed again. “Alright, so you have to press this button--”

“The little sideways bow thing?”

“Uh, sure, why not. So you press it and then you’re gonna see a lot of different names. The one you’re gonna pick is called ‘Peter’s earbuds’.”

“Okay. Wait how does it know my-- oh wait, it beeped! The lady said it’s… paired? Now what?”

“Now you can pick a song to listen to.” Darcy pressed an icon of a square with a black background and a green circle in the middle. “Anything in particular?”

Peter was silent for a moment. "What do people listen to these days?"

Darcy took the phone from Peter before typing the name of a band into the search bar. His face lit up as Darcy handed it back to him, the screen filled with different songs to choose from. After a moment of scrolling, the opening chords of Dumb by Nirvana filled his ears, and for just a little while, his mind was calm. It was quiet.

“It’s nice to know at least music hasn’t changed since the 80s."

“I wouldn't say that exactly," Darcy mumbled.

Before he could question her statement, Monica spoke up.

"The 80s." She and Jimmy walked through the front door, both carrying grocery bags in their hands. "Is that where you're from?"

Monica placed the groceries on the counter before sitting down on the couch across from Peter.

He squinted at something in the distance. “I think so. I uh…” fuzzy images filled his mind. Laughing at jokes next to a boy with the strangest glasses. Playing in the snow with a woman with red hair. Sharing popcorn in a cold room with a girl with a mohawk and a blue devil.

A serious conversation with a man who meant a lot to him.

Peter winced at the sudden sharp pain behind his eyes. “It’s kinda… kinda hard to sort through.”

“That’s cool,” Darcy shrugged. “I felt the same way during English class back when I was in high school.”

Kurt Cobain’s voice rang in his ears. My heart is broke, but I have some glue. Help me inhale, and mend it with you. Peter nodded his head as he hummed along clumsily, not quite getting the tune right.

Once the pain faded from behind his eyes, Darcy noticed the way Peter’s face seemed to brighten at the sight of a certain someone.

“Guess what!” In less than a second, Peter had moved from his spot next to Darcy onto the couch beside Monica. “Darcy showed me how to get these little pods to play music--”

“They’re called earbuds--”

“And I can listen to whatever I want. How do you feel about this band called Nirvana?” Peter offered an earbud to Monica.

She laughed. “Right now, Jimmy has his heart set on this Lord of the Rings marathon.”

Jimmy shook his head as he took two bags from Monica and placed them all on the counter. “I stand by my claim that Lord of the Rings was and will forever be the best trilogy to ever exist.”

“Sure, Jimmy.” Darcy crossed the room to inspect the groceries. “Popcorn, sherbet, and Sprite? You got orange sherbet?”

Jimmy raised his palms in surrender and pointed at Monica. “Take that up with her.”

“Orange sherbet is the best flavor and, no, I will not be taking any questions.”

Darcy scrunched her nose. “And you’re sure powers were all you got from going through the Hex so many times?”

“You mean aside from having superior taste?” Monica joked. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

*********

“Frodo didn’t deserve Sam,” Monica stated as the movie played on screen.

Shoving another handful of popcorn in his mouth, Jimmy responded. “He was under a lot of pressure! The corruption from the ring only got worse the closer they got to Mordor, so you can’t really blame Frodo for everything.”

Monica wrinkled her nose at the kernels that flew out of his mouth as Jimmy spoke. “Whatever you say. Plus it doesn’t matter cause Darcy’s on my side anyways.”

“You say that as if she didn’t fall asleep the second the movie started,” Jimmy snorted as he gestured to Darcy, who was snoring rather loudly on his shoulder.

Peter chuckled at the banter between the two and at Monica’s annoyed expression, catching her attention.

With Darcy practically on top of Jimmy yet somehow also managing to take up half of the couch, Peter and Monica were seated rather close together.

“Unless you’re laughing at Jimmy, that noise shouldn’t be coming out of your mouth,” she joked, having to turn her head to look Peter in the eye.

“It’s really not my fault that you always seem to be wrong.”

“That’s a lie, actually, but alright.”

“See?” He snorted. “Wrong again.”

Monica glared at Peter who just chuckled and adjusted his position.

After no more than twenty minutes of the movie playing on screen, the sound of Monica snoring told Peter that he and Jimmy were the last two awake.

“They never stay up for my movies,” Jimmy muttered.

Peter turned in his direction. “They never what?”

“We try and do this movie night a couple of times a month. So far, they’ve fallen asleep on every single movie I’ve chosen. I mean that’s obviously just because they don’t appreciate classic media--”

“Right,” Peter mumbled. “That’s why.”

Jimmy paused as he shoveled another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “But I don’t mind it. I mean, everyone’s been back for a little while now, but there’s still this… this underlying fear that it’ll happen again. This nagging feeling that people are gonna be taken away from us, but this time they won’t come back.”

He looked at Darcy, still completely unconscious on Jimmy’s shoulder, and Monica, who was curled up under Peter. “They feel like family” Jimmy admitted. “We haven’t even known each other for that long, but I’d do anything for these two, and I’m comfortable saying they’d do the same for me.”

“I’m happy for all of you, really.” Peter sighed, feeling the clasp on Monica’s necklace dig into his side. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. I have a few memories--”

Taking a look at the confused look on Jimmy’s face, Peter continued. “Well, you all know that I’m not from here. Wanda just pulled me out of my own time and brought me here. ”

“I mean we know it wasn’t intentional--”

“That’s not the point!” Peter did his best to rein in his anger. “The point is, some random lady took me away from my time. Away from my home, my friends, my family. And I’m not even saying that I blame her, but why did it have to be me?” When Jimmy didn’t respond, Peter continued. “I get these… flashbacks. Fuzzy memories of home. They used to be pretty rare but lately, I’ve been getting them more often. One of them keeps showing up.”

“You think you can try and remember?” Jimmy suggested.

After a moment of silence, Peter decided. “Yeah.” He adjusted Monica so that her head rested on the arm of the couch instead of his side, and something strange happened to his chest at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully.

Jimmy pulled out a notebook and pen. Peter cleared his throat as Jimmy nodded for him to begin, ready to jot down whatever he could.

“It was me, a little girl. An older woman, could’ve been my mother? And--” Peter furrowed his brow as a dull pain began to form behind his eyes and a white noise began ringing in his ears. “Someone… someone else. They, uh-- a man. I think.”

“If you can’t remember who, try to focus on where.”

“No no, I’ve got it. They uh. We--” It was beginning to hurt. “No. Wait. Younger people… friends, they had to be.”

The pain became more intense. The noise in his head was getting louder. It hurt. Different images flashed in his head, all fuzzy and difficult to clear up. His mind reached out to grasp one but just as his fingertips brushed the surface, it was gone.

A patient teacher bound to a wheelchair.

A charming blue devil.

A shapeshifter with a warm heart.

A man who could shake the earth itself.

“They keep moving,” Peter said through gritted teeth. “They… t-they won’t sit still.”

“Alright, man,” Jimmy closed the notebook. “If you need to take a break we can--”

“No! I wanna do this. I need to do this.” Peter’s voice cracked. “I don’t-- I can’t forget them.”

“Okay. Alright, that’s fine but you-- uhh…” Jimmy furrowed his brow at the sight of the pen in his hand beginning to twitch. He took one look at Peter and his eyes grew wide the moment he began to understand. “Peter. Hey, you’ve gotta take a breath. You gotta-- shit.”

Jimmy took in Peter’s current state. Pale and shaky with droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes wide and panicked. “Uhmm, shit, Monica! Darcy! I really think now would be an appropriate time for the two of you to wake up, given the circumstances.”

As he moved to shake the two women awake, Peter’s struggle grew more intense. The pain had now spread throughout his entire head and turned into a pounding sensation. The noise was deafening as it bounced around in his skull.

Monica woke quickly to see Peter pale and in distress. “Jimmy, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know! We were trying to clear up the memories in his head when he started shaking and--”

“I can see that, but what’s happening?”

“Uhh…. I think stuff is about to start floating…”

Darcy’s eyes fluttered open. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy continued, still trying to wake Darcy. “Cause, my pen was shaking and your necklace is moving a lot, and Darcy, I think your glasses are about to fly off of your face.”

Monica looked down to see her necklace float away from her chest, then watched in what seemed like slow motion as each object Jimmy mentioned flew towards the same source.

Peter.

Seconds later the tv in front of them crumpled in on itself. “That was expensive,” Darcy sighed, now fully awake.

Monica cocked her head, her gaze flickering from Peter to Jimmy to Darcy. “Is he--”

“Yep,” Darcy said loudly

The three sat in awe and terror as Peter sank to the floor in agony, screaming as he drew his knees to his chest. His hands pressed over his ears.

Darcy looked into her kitchen and her eyes grew wide. Locking eyes with Monica and then Jimmy, they all spoke at once. “The knives.”

Monica scrambled to Peter’s side while Darcy and Jimmy ran to get as many knives as they could out of the house.

Darcy turned towards Monica. “You, uh, sure you got this?”

At Monica’s shaky nod, she followed Jimmy into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Monica began. “Peter… I’m gonna, um. I, uh-- okay I actually have no idea what I’m gonna do, but I need you to just, try and, uh, I don’t know, breathe?”

“I can’t.” he panted. The breaths he took were uneven and rapid and his face was stark white. He wasn’t responding to her. “I can’t forget. I-- no, no no I don’t want to forget. They’re slipping. I can’t reach them. Help me.”

She knew he wasn’t going to be able to calm himself down. Monica called the other two in there.

Jimmy ran into the living room first. “We weren’t-- oh.”

Darcy quickly followed. “Holy shit.” she looked at Monica. “You know what to do?”

Monica nodded. “But I haven’t exactly done it before and there’s a good chance I’ll pass out after.”

“I mean, if it means he stops screaming bloody murder, I feel like it’ll be worth it.” Jimmy looked at Darcy with wide eyes, who just shrugged.

“Right,” Monica shook the nerves out of her hands. “Okay. Alright.”

“Y’know, there are still knives and other extremely sharp objects in the kitchen so--”

“I got that, Darcy!” Monica snapped. She took a deep breath before turning all of her attention to the man in front of her. “Okay, Peter? I’m sorry, but none of us have any idea what to do, and so, this was the next best option.”

She closed her eyes and placed both hands to his temple, struggling to keep them there as he twisted in pain. When her eyes opened again, a bright blue shone in place of their usual brown.

His energy came through in tendrils. The super-speed feeling like electricity itself, sharp and cold, while his metallokinesis was slow and warm and heavy. It was new and painful and in that moment Monica understood his pain.

While his powers had come to a pause, his memories were a different matter.

“I gotta keep going,” Monica slurred. Her eyelids were heavy.

“Yeah that’s what we’re not gonna do,” Darcy said.

“He’s still in pain!”

“And now so are you! We can find something to sedate him but, right now, you can’t--”

Monica responded by placing her hands on Peter’s temple once again, this time taking out smaller amounts of energy. Just enough to put him to sleep for a little while.

She then promptly collapsed.

“Energy absorption,” Jimmy stated. “Impressive.”

Darcy sighed. “Please just help me get them to bed.”

“Right. Okay.”

[seita]

— with a sweet s/o.

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴀᴜʟ.

𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥!! 😭🥺 𝘴𝘰 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘦 💕 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵: 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥  𝘴/𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥  𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 (?) 𝘴𝘰 𝘒𝘢𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺  (𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 𝘸𝘢𝘺 ;))  𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 💕🥺💕🥺

��� 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙.

»»   ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──────  ««

okay he’s...ooc but i couldn’t write him nice.....

— kai chisaki.

≻ the last thing chisaki ever expected was to fall in love. ≻ in fact, he was sure that was an emotion he would never even be able to experience. ≻ but then you came along, with your cute morning greetings, little bentos you would make because you knew he didnt eat properly, and all your sweet mannerisms that just made you you. ≻ you were always in an up beat mood, doing your best to make sure everyone around you was feeling okay ≻ you were like a little light in their dark lives. ≻ but one day, your light seemed a little dimmer than usual ≻ your smile was still there, but when you turned away, he could see the little furrow in your brow. ≻ seeing, the strange behavior -- and knowing you so well, he immediately saw the red flags. ≻ something was wrong. ≻ he sent out word that you were to report to his bedroom. ≻ he was sitting at the desk he had tucked in the corner, writing on some documents when he heard the soft knock ≻ “enter,” he said. ≻ you kicked your shoes off outside the door and pushed it open, stepping onto the hard wood before closing the door behind you. ≻ no matter how long you’d been together, you still got nervous around him. ≻ it was a natural reaction; he was a powerful man. ≻ he held a aura of authority and it wasn’t lost on your how dangerous he was. ≻ “y-yes kai?” you asked. ≻ he sat up straighter, placing his pen down before standing. ≻ you looked up at him, nervous. ≻ to your complete shock he reached up to cup your cheek, the soft material of his glove startling you. ≻ “k-kai?” ≻ “confess,” he said, eyes as sharp as ever as he looked at you from over his mask, “i’ve been watching you. you’re upset. tell me why.” ≻ you cleared your throat, and looked away. ≻ he, however, didn’t allow it, instead gripped your chin and forced you to look at him once more. ≻ “tell me.” ≻ you sighed, “s-someone just...didn’t have very nice things to say to me, is all.”

≻ “what did they say?” he asked. ≻ you knew that once you told him, he was going to get revenge on the person. ≻ but you also knew you couldn’t keep it from him. ≻ “th-they said i was fake...th-that i’m not really nice...” you shrug, choosing to keep the words much nicer than what they had actually said. ≻ he narrowed his gaze, no doubt clenching his jaw in anger. ≻ after several, long seconds, he finally spoke. ≻ “i know how genuine you are,”‘ he said, cupping your cheek once again, “that’s all that matters.” ≻ you found yourself nodding, eyes wide at such kind words coming from him. ≻ “i want to show you,” he muttered, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear him because of his mask but you still felt your eyes widen. ≻ “on the bed,” he ordered. ≻ immediately, you backed away from him and took a seat on the edge of the bed. ≻ you watched as he removed his mask, letting out a soft breath as he placed it on the nearby dresser. ≻ “lay back.” ≻ you did as you were told. ≻ kai was a difficult man to understand; he certainly never showed whether or not he cares, and very rarely he would show it physically. ≻ it seemed this was a rare experience. ≻ of course the two of you had been intimate before, but, this time it felt different. ≻ his gloved hands rested on your bare thighs, pushing the hem of your dress up to reveal your panties. ≻ you were startled to see what he was planning ≻ you only remember one occasion where kai went down on you ≻ it was a special occasion ≻ and he had told you not to expect it ever again ≻ yet here you were ≻ you panties on the floor ≻ your dress pushed up over your hips ≻ with his head between your legs. ≻ “close your eyes,” he ordered, which you immediately followed. ≻ unable to see him, all you could do was feel as he slid his tongue between your folds ≻ you were so sensitive, so reactive to his touch ≻ and it always made him feel pride, a perverted sense of pride. ≻ normally, he would berate you for touching him ≻ but as your hands weaved into his hair ≻ he remembered why he was doing this ≻ and relaxed, letting you do as you pleased ≻ because all he really needed to care about right now was making you feel cherished.

»»   ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──────  ««  

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.  

[thefairefolk-rp]

Welcome to TFF, Bri! Your application for Orla Fang has been accepted!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Nickname:

Bri

Age:

22

Pronouns:

She/hers

Timezone:

EST

Activity and Availability (Please answer in words as well as rating your availability from 1-10):

I am a relatively slow writer and I work full-time, but I’ve been looking for a way to write in community. This will definitely be a priority for me! So I’d say my availability will be at least 6/10. I’m totally new to rps and tumblr, so it might take me a while to get up to speed on … literally everything. But I’ll get there!

IC INFORMATION:

Desired Character:

Orla Fang

Second Choice Character:

Ingrid Faolan

What made you choose this character?:

Orla caught my interest because of her many contradictions. I really love the idea of a character who is so set on a goal, but has increasing doubts about it. Who is she when the goal is done? If the goal is never accomplished? Right now, in the middle of striving for it? She allows herself so little, but that’s unsustainable (even if she’s been at it her whole life). That’s great ground for a growth arc.

She’s definitely going to be haunted by a lot of her father’s behavior, and have some unprocessed feelings about whether his torment was self-inflicted, or even merited. Due to her father’s disgrace, she has lived 600 years in a place she was taught not to call home, while her “real” home remains out of reach. Now, she’s in a Clan where family means very little, but it’s her driving value! I’m also excited to write all the little clashes and complements that come out of her taste for the fancy things of nobility and her more rugged, battle-ready life in the Wildlands.

Her goal might be to return to the Seelie court in favor, but her loyalty is not to the Seelie court — it’s to her family, and her late father. Add in the recent rocky reputation of good Queen Mab and the fact that the Wolf Clan allied with the Unseelie in the war, and Orla could really ally with anyone.

I also love the slight parallel between her and Luna Crow, made all the better for the blackmail dynamic between them. Both are pretending to be someone they’re not, and living in realities they only tentatively accept. I saw that Luna isn’t taken right now, but that’s still an exciting direction for the future!

Her aesthetic also really interested me. In keeping with some of the advice I read in a blitz of rp-101 articles, I’ve started a pinterest board and playlist for inspiration. Links here :)

Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/brialikescheese/orla/

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ralXJE5Uyo3D1YbfbxwgI?si=Z8btNQVVSDyIPIBFKIUXXw

Are there any changes you would like to make?:

Nope!

Questions/Comments:

Do you have any more resources available or examples of gif chatting?

What if I can’t find a lot of gifs/images of my face claim?

Do you recommend looking through other characters’ blogs to get a sense of how people start and continue plot threads? That seems really intimidating to me! Also, I don’t exactly know the ins and outs of reblogging and replying. But I’ll get there.

If I say something in my para that isn’t true (contradicted by earlier things) or not super convenient to future storytelling, will somebody tell me, and will I be able to edit it?

If my application is accepted, should I wait until the current event is over to kind of leap in? Starting cold intimidates me too. Are there any guidelines, recommendations, or examples for a starter?

Is it common practice for people in this rp to plot or worldbuild together?  I guess I’m trying to gauge the degree to which people prefer to plan out a detail or respond to it directly in the text. I’m sure it depends on personal preference, timing, and the importance of the detail too.

Is it okay to create random NPC characters to facilitate scenes in (self)paras? I’ve seen people mention unnamed guards etc., but what about recurring minor named characters?

I’ve seen xkit around a lot. Do you recommend that?

Writing Sample (Must be 300 words or more, third person limited, in the character you’re auditioning for’s point of view):

Orla ran a hand over the braids coiled at her neck, fingers catching on jeweled pins. One came loose. She turned it over in her palm — a silver branch twined around sapphires and diamonds. In the dim light of the carriage, its glittering gems seemed to laugh at her misfortune. Once again, she’d left the Seelie court with little more than petty gossip to show for it. No matter. She would return.

The carriage pitched on the cobblestones, growing uneven as they left Wisteria behind. Orla watched the gold arches and shimmering lanterns give way to thorn thickets and thin creeks at the edge of the Wildlands. Soon, these too would vanish, replaced by mountains, rolling mist, and ever-taller pines.

Until then, Orla was left to dwell on the city she was promised.

Orla passed the silver pin wordlessly to Sionnach, who sprawled beside her in comfortable silence. Sionnach slipped the pin into a leather pouch. She would know its proper place in Orla’s room, and see that it returned there.

“I will be late to the fires tonight,” Orla said.

“Of course,” Sionnach replied, but raised a brow. “I hope not too late. Your sparring partners need to keep their skills sharp.”

“Not too late,” Orla agreed.

“Good. You promised me a spar, remember.” Sionnach grinned. “And it will get less and less friendly the more you keep me waiting.”

Orla pressed her lips to avoid smiling.

“I’ll be there when you’re warmed up. You’ll need it.”

In the Wildlands, Orla disembarked from the carriage. If she were a mortal, or simply less attuned to the subtle cues exchanged between a warrior’s body and environment, the slim points of her shoes might have sunk into the earth, unbalancing her. Instead, she allowed a moment to savor the way the ground met her weight — with just enough give to ensure it could push back.

Sionnach followed. She tossed a handful of honey-braised carrots to the harnessed elk at the carriage head. She laughed as they nosed the matted grass and pine needles, and patted their necks. In Wisteria, Orla had pretended not to notice Sionnach pocketing food from the feast table while the nobles tittered and scoffed away. Gossip and carrots. Those were her spoils.

Within the round walls of her tent, Orla exchanged her court garb for sparring leathers and sat at her desk. Her eyes fell on the stack of books in its center. The spines were mismatched: one of green leather and another of brushed grey suede; still others wrapped in birchbark, woven reeds, and the stretched, pebbled skin of an unknown reptile. The casual looker would never guess they were all penned by the same author, which suited their purpose. Their one unifying mark had long since faded, but if Orla touched the spines, her fingers could still find the depressions of the name. In the right light — one candle, lit across the room, or the moon as it set — tiny flecks told of a time when the name was written in full gold leaf.

Azriel Black.

A name she hadn’t spoken aloud in quite some time.

That wouldn’t change today. She pulled out the journal bound in grey suede and thumbed the pages, skimming for the names of the nobles she had seen at court. Though the script itself was neat, reading it was no small act. Text filled a page and even turned the corner to fill it crosswise. Arrows arched between names and fell on diagrams and symbols. It got worse as the text went on. Some of the last  journals, Orla could barely stand to touch. She hated the ache in her chest they produced.

There. The names she was looking for. In the margins Orla wrote down all the details she remembered, even the most frustrating and inane. Lord so-and-so wore a waistcoat with abalone buttons, possibly sourced from that contentious new colony. Lady such-and-such laughed at a tasteless joke and stood guard by the pomegranate puff pastries all night.

She wrote until she ran out of white space. Just as well. Orla closed the book, and then her eyes. These fae were welcomed to city life, taking the parties and pastries as facts of life — things that were owed to them, by name, birth, and the guilelessness that kept them from ever hearing whispers of treason, let alone mustering the will to whisper it themselves.

She slipped the book between its neighbors and went in search of a weapon to suit her mood. Something heavy, tonight. Blunt. Court had soured her appetite for delicacy and grace.

One day, these journals and parties would amount to something. Everything would change.

Until then, the fires were lit, and Sionnach was waiting.

[origami-teacup]

my grayza story (and a love letter to the creators of the grayza fanzine)

High on coffee, bleary-eyed, I had been in the middle of studying for my college finals last night when I casually reached over for my phone, just to check my notifications, and instantly got hit in the face with this: “[PDF] GrayZa Zine”

(Warning: long and emotional rant down below.)

My heart jumped in my mouth, my palms began to sweat, and with a slightly shaky thumb, I pressed on the notification. Now, you may find this to be a bit of an overreaction, but listen- I have been in the Fairy Tail fandom since 2010, and I left the fandom about 7 years ago (wow I feel old), not bothering to continue reading the manga after 400-ish chapters since I quickly realized what a clusterfuck the whole series had become and how OOC my faves were becoming (coughgraycough). Fairy Tail was the first anime I got seriously hooked on (besides Maid Sama). It started my weeb phase. 

It also happens to be the anime that slam-dunked me into shipping hell.

Grayza is the name of that particular hell.

I remember when I first fell in love with Grayza: it was during the Phantom Lord arc, when Erza rested her head on Gray’s chest (you all know what I’m talking about). And then Tower of Heaven happened, as well as Gray’s “I’m taking Erza back! She belongs with Fairy Tail!”. I was a wee lass, and my feelings for this ship were intense. I didn't even know that shipping as a concept existed back then, but I was doing it already- I drew tons and tons of fanart; I babbled to my brother about how beautiful their chemistry was, until he became sick and couldn't stand me anymore; boxes upon boxes of fanart are still piled high in my room, tucked away in a corner. Now that I look at them, they’re cringy, childish, silly, cheesy comics and much much more, but it was all a labor of love. 

Then, I stumbled upon this marvellous site called FanFiction.net. This is where I read my first Grayza fanfic. It was Warm Ice Melting Armour -one of my favorite Grayza fanfics even to this day- by the talented Irrevocable SaaSha. To this day, the first paragraph of that fic is branded in my mind: “She was curled up on the couch like a cat in front of the fireplace, the firelight reflected like liquid honey in her golden brown eyes, red hair spread out around her, like she was lying on a bed of scarlet fire. She was beautiful.”

I was in awe of the writing, starstruck even. I thought it was the most beautiful description I’d ever read. I still think so, even to this day.

And that’s when I decided- I wanted to write like that too.

So Grayza got me into reading and writing fanfiction. And reading and writing in general. English is not my first language, so I struggled. But it was a happy struggle, an endeavour I did not mind making. My first and second Grayza fics were totally abominable, but I was just a kid, eagerly playing around with these two dorks on paper with not a care in the world. I would lie awake in bed in the wee hours of the night, flashlight in one hand and a pen in the other, furiously scribbling away on a tiny notebook, and when I ran out of pages but felt too lazy to get out of bed, I would just write over my doodles.

It was a good time.

Again, my fics were totally shit (so much so that I deleted them many years ago out of embarrassment- a decision which I now regret; I wish I’d kept them up, for nostalgia’s sake), but everyone who reviewed was kind, friendly, encouraging. I talked to other writers, who were a thousand times more talented than little ol’ me but still so cheerful and humble. I badgered them by sending them PM’s asking for writing tips; I sent the daily readers of my fics little sneak peeks of the future chapters in their inboxes; I joined roleplay forums (always choosing Erza). Every once in a while a reader would PM me to tell me how much they loved my fic, how certain chapters made them laugh out loud, and that would melt my heart. 

I received my first hate comment from a Gruvia shipper, and I relished it. 

So basically, Grayza introduced me to fandom. 

I loved this ship with every fibre of my being. I still do. It’s my first OTP. 

Then Mashima fucked everything up. 

Juvia and Jellal got introduced. Gray and Erza’s interactions began to dwindle. I never hoped for my ship to be canon, but Mashima even forgot about their friendship, and that hurt. A lot. I actually like Jellal, and even ship Jerza on the side (just not as passionately as Grayza), but Juvia I did not like at all. I couldn't fathom why the majority of the fandom would ship Gray with her. It baffles me to this day.

And then it became canon.

Well, as canon as Mashima can make a ship, that is. By the time the last chapter came out, I was over Fairy Tail. I had moved on to better things, better media. But being the masochist I am, I still read the chapter (spoiler alert: it was shit). To calm myself and soothe my wounded heart, I went over to FanFiction.net -now a barren wasteland with old fics lazily drifting like tumbleweed and only a small number of new fics trying to emerge through the cracks in the ground- and read an old favorite of mine. 

It was like a soothing pick-me up after a harrowing day. But it was also a little sad, because all of my favorite authors, people I considered mentors and friends, had moved on. Have moved on. It felt like the Grayza fandom had kind of gradually, slowly, silently sputtered, coughed, and died, and I was one of the small numbers of people witnessing it.

Then, the announcement for the Grayza Fanzine came. I was excited, feeling a little bittersweet, as this would be the beautiful, heartfelt sendoff this ship of dreams would deserve. I desperately wanted to contribute, but my midterms were coming up, and I was busy with my studies, so there was no way I could churn out a fic with that mindset. So I mentally wished everyone contributing to the zine luck, and moved on, anticipating for the day I would get that notification on my phone.

 And then I got it.

I actually cried while I went through the zine. The fics, from what I’ve read so far, are all heartfelt and beautiful and managed to hit me in parts of my heart and soul that I thought I’d buried and mourned a long long time ago. The fanarts are all breathtaking. And the layout! I lovelovelove the overlapping blue and red stars scattered over the pages, the snowflakes! 

In the middle of the night, standing next to the kitchen (because that’s the only place where I could charge my phone at the time), with tears in my eyes, I felt like I was holding a gem in my hands. A treasure. And it is.

I couldn’t study after that. My anxieties about college and university had washed away: I felt like a kid again, in love with this ship all over again. For the next two hours, I thumbed through the PDF, marvelling at this labor of love, my heart raw and aching in all the right ways.

So thank you, everyone at @grayza-fanzine​ who made this zine possible. Every artist, every writer, everyone. I might not know any of you, but you all share my love for this wonderful, painful, glorious ship, and I think that is enough.

Thank you so, so much. 

[jaehyunrk]

* a new beginning ––

@rkevent​

A staff member leads you down Royal’s winding hallways to So Jiseob’s office, then opens the door and leads you inside, where the CEO awaits, sitting at his desk. He doesn’t look up as you enter; he’s too preoccupied with paperwork in front of him. Seated across from his desk, next to an empty chair, is a company lawyer whom you recognize from before; she’d been present when you signed your initial company contract. The staff member directs you to take the empty chair next to the lawyer and then leaves. You hear the door close and the latch click back into place just as your CEO finally looks up and offers the tiniest hint of a smile.

He folds his hands on the desk in front of him, eyes settling on yours. “When trainees first sign a contract with a company, they are devoting themselves to at least two years of training. They usually don’t expect the time to pass so quickly, but it does,” he ruminates mildly.  “Years of training and hopes leads to one dream usually: debut.”

“But, you’re no ordinary trainee. Since our pre-debut project started in August, you’ve been groomed to be a member of DE:CODE, a debut group I have incredibly high hopes for. Since then, I’ve seen you grow a lot in your training. You’ve had your ups and downs, plenty of both good and bad.” He pauses, and diverts his attention back to his desk, where he shuffles paperwork until he sets one singular sheet of paper in front of him. “You’re right in the middle of all these boys. You are a center to unite them. I’ve been proud of your growth here, and I trust you to do your best to continue to improve, even after debut. This, here,” he says, motioning towards the document, “is a contract exclusive to DE:CODE and will tie you to this group, and to Royal Entertainment, for the next six years.”

He finally becomes a little less stoic, and shows the glimpse of a real smile as he slides the contract toward you and hands you a pen. “If we share the same vision of making DE:CODE one of the top boy groups in all of Korea, and you wish to be a part of this journey, you know what to do.”

the office isn’t completely foreign to him anymore. the last time he’d been called into the office, was to re-sign his contract. he remembers clearly, how’d uneasy he’d felt, unsure if signing with them again was the right decision.

as he sits in front of so jiseob once more, listening to the ceo talk, he’s glad that he did. debut. it’s a word that, at that time, had felt so far, out of reach, something he’d yearned for. how many years has it been already? he thinks. how many years since he’d joined royal? two? three? he’d once kept track of the days, but they were beginning to blur away. it didn’t matter anymore. because he was here now, so close to debut.

so jiseob speaks and his voice holds so much authority, charisma, that it has jaehyun listening closely. it’s the word center that has jaehyun pulling his eyes away from the paperwork across his desk, and to the ceo. because there’s so much truth to that. he’d entered royal, the youngest male trainee, and had stayed long enough to be an older brother to the next few that came.

a center. that was what jaehyun was. and perhaps unknowingly he’d taken on that role; in front of seonho and jihoon he’d try to be as reliable as possible, wanting to be a pillar for them, with the other members he’d wanted to be a friend, someone they could trust, but with baekhyun, he’d allow himself to get a little childish. the center. everything in equilibrium, in balance. and jaehyun was at the center of it.

debut. de:code. those years of uncertainty had led up to this. his eyes don’t leave so jiseob and he catches a glimpse of a smile. he takes the pen and his hand hovers over the paper for a moment, after he signs this, he’ll be a member of de:code. officially. he smiles, and he thinks that maybe he might cry. but he won’t. because the center doesn’t cry. the center lets the leader cry when things get too hard, he lets the younger members cry when they need a shoulder, while he tries his hardest to keep a balance — even with his own emotions.

pen presses against paper as jaehyun signs the contract. the smile never once leaves his lips. “thank you,” he says, bowing. “i won’t — we won’t,” he corrects himself, “disappoint you sir.”

( he walks to the bathroom and begins to cry, softly. )

OOC NOTE: First of all, congratulations to arriving at the final step before debut! I know it’s been a long and crazy journey, and I’m so glad you’ve stuck through it. When you are ready, feel free to post this prompt with Jaehyun’s response to it.

Should Jaehyun choose to SIGN the DE:CODE contract, he will be employed by Royal Entertainment without a need to renew a contract until the duration of this one has concluded. As a reward for making it this far, he will receive THREE WEEKENDS unpaid vacation time to use any time between now and the end of April, so long as it doesn’t clash with any special debut activities (such as music show appearances, meaning he can’t actually use his vacation time until after his music show performances have finished.)

Should he choose to REJECT this contract with Royal and DE:CODE, he will leave the company, effective immediately upon rejection. He will be able to keep all of his debut points, but will not be able to take any trainee workshops or earn any more debut points/workshop points until he becomes a trainee again. He will not have any special advantage over newer characters when he auditions for other companies in the future, and should he become a trainee at a new company he will be considered a junior trainee all over again, even though he will still have her debut points and would be eligible for debut right away. He WILL have the right to audition for Royal again, but the fact that he gave up a contract renewal, especially a debut one, WILL be taken into account in final casting decisions.

He will have up to one weeks to make his decision IC, meaning that if he does not make a decision by January 31st, he will automatically be cut from the company. Exceptions can be made for those on hiatus. 

[bat-lings]

Is Bruce a good father to Damian, specifically? I mean, he seems to have learnt from past mistakes... but in preboot, does he even care about Damian at all? Didn't seem like it most of the time (especially in Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul, where he didn't even seem to care that Damian's life is in danger). Do you think he cared about Damian preboot?

Well, you are both right in that reboot!Bruce puts his preboot counterpart to shame where Damian’s concerned. The thing is, the reboot gave a much bigger place to Bruce and Damian’s dynamic than preboot ever did. Those two actually don’t have that many scenes together in preboot, and said scenes were usually part of a bigger plot/narrative that left little room to focus on their relationship.

I’ll answer this in three stages in order to address everything our Anons mentioned:

Bruce & Damian’s dynamic as portrayed by Morrison

The Resurrection of Ra’s al Ghul

Conclusion: does preboot!Bruce care about Damian? And was he a good father to him? (spoilers: yes and no, respectively.)

The conclusion summarizes everything so jump there if the argumentation part is too long.

A) Morrison’s Damian & Bruce

Disclaimer: I really, really hate Morrison’s writing. I’ll try to be reasonable when criticizing it but be extra aware of that bias. It makes me put most of Bruce’s action on the writer rather than the character and while I have my reasons & probably won’t change my opinion, it’s still a pretty categorical take.

Honestly I think Morrison’s Bruce does feel responsible for Damian. I’m even sure he cares about him too:

[Batman (1940) #657]

Actually, the whole issue is pretty good where Bruce & Damian are concerned. Must be my favorite thing Morrison has ever written. He installs interesting things character-wise, like Bruce making an extra effort to make Damian comfortable in the Manor & be patient with him, or Damian being an insufferable brat up until Bruce snaps at him, at which point he immediately switches off to “yes sir” in front of that new figure of authority.

Those are interesting bases to construct a dynamic upon. Problem is, they’re not gonna be exploited.

Here Bruce shows clear intent to provide guidance to Damian. But rather than give Bruce the occasion to follow up on that intent, and to develop a real relationship with Damian, Morrison gives us the incident Anon mentioned in the next frickin’ issue : an explosion set by Morrison’s godawful “““Talia””” that should’ve killed both her and Damian, and Bruce staring dramatically into the distance.

Does Bruce investigate their disappearance while Damian is being hardcore abused by his mother? Nah, he’s too busy skiing with one Jezebel Jet– a relationship Morrison needs to install since Jezebel has a notable role in Batman RIP.

My point is: as of #658 Morrison considers this arc finished & that there’s nothing to add. By that logic it’s valid to forget Damian until he’s relevant again plot-wise. It’s not (i think?) a way to tell us Bruce doesn’t care about Damian.

Let’s fast-forward to the disputable editorial & writer choice to launch Batman Inc/Leviathan  just after Bruce’s return from the “dead” without A) leaving room for a  confrontation/closure scene between him and Damian beforehand; or B) letting them actually interact more than the strictest minimum in said arc. From a strictly in-universe POV though, it’s not ooc for Bruce to decide unilaterally that Damian doesn’t need him or to focus on the crisis to come without talking to his son first.

I guess I should be talking about Batman Incorporated Vol. 2 too, ‘cause while it’s technically N52 it’s very much in the continuity of the storyline Morrison started in preboot. It also has a few Bruce & Damian moments where despite terrible miscommunication Bruce seems to worry for Damian… But then the plot requires Bruce sending Damian back to the mother who, in this dumbass version, abused him all his life.

[Batman Incorporated (2012) #4]

If I got that right this is a “Hero must make Big Sacrifice for the Greater Good” moment. The fact that Bruce loves Damian isn’t put into question: it makes the sacrifice more significant.

And that’s kinda my problem. First we’re told that Bruce wants to provide for Damian, but then whatever affection he feels for the boy is sidelined or even sacrificed to other narrative considerations.

So basically Bruce’s love for Damian has no significance in itself. It’s a given that doesn’t particularly need to be illustrated or expanded on; it’s stocked until we need it to breed impact in some scenes. Like the one above or, you’ve guessed it, Damian’s death. So yeah Bruce loves Damian. He loves him so much he’s sad when he dies. Ahem.

All in all it’s not a father-son story: else there would be more banter, slice of life sequences, time for the dynamic to develop, etc. It’s a hero-who-loses-stuff-in-war story. One story isn’t better than the other, they just appeal to different types of audiences.

“Does my father love me” is a personal thus small stake. Batman Inc/Leviathan or “Can I keep this future from happening” are world-wide to city-wide thus big stakes. I think a marked interest in the Big Ideas is what characterizes Morrison’s writing. Thus the portrayal of character relationships has a very specific place in his stories.

Anyway: I don’t think Morrison ever wanted to imply Bruce doesn’t care about Damian. It’s just that he’s a plot-driven writer and that both characters’ interactions & smaller stakes, although somewhat present in his narratives, will always come second in the big schemes of things.

If you consider that Bruce behaving like he does under Morrison’s pen proves he doesn’t give a damn about Damian though, I sure as hell won’t fault you for it.

B) Bruce & Damian in The Resurrection of Ra’s al Ghul

(God re-reading an in-character Talia these days is an oasis in the desert. Gotta love that arc all the more for that.)  

Not gonna lie fam. Our two Anons are right when they say Bruce is pretty cold in that one.

But A) Bruce is also dealing with a crisis, which means he’s emotionally removing himself from the situation; B) he’s not treating Damian differently than he is Dick or Tim… which we’ll see is the problem tho.

It doesn’t excuse Bruce’s behavior (I think he’s out of line myself), but I just don’t think it implies he doesn’t care about Damian.

You’ll notice that his apparent aloofness applies to Tim too (and Dick although he’s not mentioned), and that it equally unsettles Talia.

[Nightwing (1996) #138]

I want to stress the apparent in aloofness. On several occasions during RoRAG Talia reproaches Bruce that he’s not confronting his feelings what else is new. I believe he’s worried about the boys, all of them, but he also trusts them to handle themselves. He also thinks that if he so much as voices his worry, he won’t be able to focus and do what he has to. So he represses them and goes fully in Batman-mode.

Fast-forward. When Bruce is barking at Damian to pick up a sword and fight, it’s his way of protecting him– he needs Damian to defend himself.

[Detective Comics (1937) #839]

Because it’s not fair to show this without context: 5 seconds before Bruce legit bites Damian’s head off, chill out dude, he goes all protective batdad upon seeing Ra’s trying to steal Damian’s body.

So yeah. I have reasons to believe Bruce is scared out of his mind here. Hence the very aggressive way he tries to shake Damian into action.

So far Bruce gets a pass. It’s afterwards that he deserved to be punched in the face imo, and that’s probably the scene our Anons had in mind:

In fact, Bruce is expecting the same from Damian than he’s expecting from his two other sons. To be precise, he’s not treating either of them as sons— they’re on the field, they’re Robin & Nightwing right now. Aka soldiers/partners/teammates rather than family. And Bruce is putting Damian on that exact level when he shouldn’t be.

It’s harsh, and that’s emphasized next to Talia (who is actually written like a Talia). She’s all aggressively worried mother and Bruce’s all cold commander, the contrast is off-putting.

Talia reacts like a mother first by fleeing to save herself and her son. But Bruce can’t let Ra’s to his own devices, and he expect his sons to fight beside him.

It’s unfair to Damian ‘cause he’s not Robin yet, he’s not part of Bruce’s war the way Dick and Tim chose to be, he didn’t choose to be dragged into Ra’s schemes: he’s snapping to attention at Bruce’s order out of a childish need for validation, not out of a conscious & thought-out choice to make this his life. Also he’s ten. Yet those considerations fly over Bruce’s head: right now and unlike Talia, he’s not thinking like a father.

Do I think Dini balances the Greater Good vs Familial Attachment dilemma better than Morrison does? Hell yeah. He took the time to show Bruce ripping Ra’s apart at the beginning of the issue to prove us Bruce cares. And for all that Bruce’s wrong here, Dini has him fighting beside Damian, not sending him off on his own. Talia’s fleeing with her son gives the reader a reality check & puts the validity of Bruce’s choice into question as it should be. The stakes are also so much more concrete that “distant dark future to avoid”.

Next is probably my fave line ever written about Bruce & Damian ‘cause it gives so much sense (or depth) to Bruce’s hands-off approach.

And like. Everything that Bruce says here is true. That’s exactly what Damian’s character arc should be about. But dude maybe try to have a relationship with your son outside of the Batman legacy? The thing is Bruce built his relationships with all his kids through vigilantism and I think he just. Doesn’t know how to do it differently. The idea doesn’t even cross his mind for god’s sake.

By my understanding it’s not that Bruce doesn’t love Damian. It’s that he genuinely believes Damian’s better off without him.

It’s low key confirmed in Bruce Wayne: The Road Home.

[The Road Home: Batman & Robin]

((Don’t trust anything Bruce says about Dick’s “casualness” or whatever in this issue tho. Nicieza just… doesn’t know Dick’s character all that much.))

So Bruce is basically taking the easy way out, yeah. Both in ‘Tec and in choosing it’s not worth trying to work with Damian as his partner. He decides Talia is a better parent & Dick is a better mentor than he could be, and he’s off fighting the good fight against Leviathan.

We can stretch it and say Bruce probs decided he’ll take care of his relationship with Damian after the Leviathan thing is dealt with but tbh I don’t know if DC or Morrison thought that far ahead.

Conclusion

Morrison’s narrative installs that Bruce does feel morally obligated to care for Damian. And although I get why it can feel uncertain, I’m not sure we’re supposed to doubt Bruce loves Damian.

Bruce not looking for Damian after the explosion is is more due to the writer’s choice to consider the “Damian issue” closed for now so that he can focus on his next plot/installment. I guess.

When Bruce has the idea to send Damian back to fake-Talia, I guess his love for his son is a tool used to show how much Bruce is a selfless hero*. and a terrible dad but he’s a Hero™ so it’s okay.

Bruce in RoRAG doesn’t come as indifferent to Damian’s safety to me, he’s being his dumbass self in a crisis situation. He’s got no excuse for sending Damian alongside Dick & Tim when he did though.

On two occasions Bruce unilaterally elects that Damian is better-off without him. First with the in-character Talia who actually loves her son, second as Dick’s partner.

* Actually it’d be very interesting if someone who liked that comic-book could explain me wtf I didn’t get about its narrative significance. Sometimes our personal tastes just render us blind to some things guys.

TL;DR: Does preboot!Bruce love Damian? Yes. Was he a good father to him? No.

And I’m feeling way more comfortable giving a categorical answer here than when I was asked if Bruce is, in general, a good father.

To be fair Bruce does try to step into a fatherly role in Morrison’s Batman #657, aka just after he meets Damian. Afterwards we get sidetracked; and later storylines just. Don’t really give Bruce & Damian the opportunity so share father-son moments.

His behavior in RoRAG is just plain bad. The fact that it’s not due to indifference doesn’t change that. The ten-year-old who didn’t ask for shit should be treated differently that the seasoned vigilantes Dick and Tim are, period.

Obviously leaving Damian in fake-Talia’s clutches or wanting to send him back to his abuser goes under “bad father points” too. If you consider the whole of Morrison’s run should be integrated into your personal understanding of the character, that is. woops look at that terrible bias showing its ugly face again

In later episodes, it’s tempting to give Bruce a pass by saying that he just didn’t get the chance/time to be a good father to Damian, and part of it is true. But again, failing to invest in that relationship is completely in-character, and tbh it’s the part I find the most interesting character- and narrative-wise:

It’s A) self-depreciating (”Talia or Dick can provide my son what I can’t”); B) self-centered, in that Bruce doesn’t stop to consider what Damian thinks or wants; and C) cowardly, in that the second there’s someone else available to take care of Damian, Bruce stops trying to be a father and to invest himself emotionally because gasp, feelings!

As a comparison, think of how long it took for Bruce to go from mentor-protégé-e to father-child in his relationship with Tim and Cassandra; and to admit that’s how he felt about those kids. He didn’t adopt Dick until he was an adult either. Batdad needs time to un-constipate. It’s a Bruce thing, not a Bruce & Damian one.

(Jason is the only kid with whom Bruce immediately builds a wholesome relationship and that’s where you cry because if Jason didn’t die Bruce wouldn’t have half as much trouble getting close to his kids.)

Hope this word-vomit answers that. Thanks for the asks!

[multiphandomunnies]

wont stop staring | kim chaewon

requested: It was written on the stars. You and Chaewon were meant for each other. The moment you locked eyes, it was as if the message was already there. "Why do you have to stare at me like that, I can't focus on my work.." -IZ*ONE Kim Chaewon warnings: none authors note: I only added the dialogue to this fic but if you wanted me to add the rest of the prompt please let me know. I didn't even realize that I didn't add it until I was editing :( authors note #2: chaewon might be a little ooc,, but its cause i see being really shy around someone she likes that she can't control what she says or does which results in her staring a lot or blurting out something embarrassing. admin: mirae

With your head rested in the palm of your hand you stared intently at the ugly old clock, you still had at least 5 minutes until class started. Rolling your eyes you pulled out yesterday's homework to go over it and make sure that everything seemed fine. At least you told yourself that's what you would do but you knew that you pull it out and just stare at it until the teacher walked in. “I heard the new girl is famous,” your classmate giggled to her friend as they shared the new gossip for the day.

Rumors had it that your class was getting a new student, supposedly a famous celebrity from some award-winning idol group. Hell even if you couldn't help but get excited. What if your class really did a popular idol, maybe you could befriend them and learn all about the industry. Just then the door slid open and your teacher walked in with a happy smile. “Class I'm happy to introduce that we have a new student joining us for the rest of the school year. Now, this student is special so I need you guys to treat her well, okay? She won't always be here so she will probably need help with some things,” Mrs.Lee explained before gesturing with her hand for the girl to walk in.

She walked in with her hands grabbing at each other tightly, a nervous smile on her face. The girl looked familiar and clearly, everyone else knew who she was. She brushed her bangs away before bowing to introduce herself. “Hello everyone my name is Kim Chaewon. Please take care of me,” she said, eyes locking with yours. In that moment all the other students blurred and it was like she was your only focus. CHaewon had to have been the cutest most precious girl you had seen. She had a rather small frame and a very soft voice but her presence was so strong. Picking up the pace your heart tried to escape from your chest to jump into her arms. Chaewons big doll-like eyes never left yours as she stared right back at you. Your breath hitched when the teacher asked her to take a seat next to you.

Gulping you pulled out the chair for her and moved your things. “Hi, I'm Y/n L/n, nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself. Now that she was closer you could smell the perfume she had been wearing, it smelt like a freshly juiced plum mixed in with some type of flower.

“Nice,, nice to meet you,” Chaewon had to shake her head to gain her focus back. Throughout the teachers' lecture, you kept catching her staring at you. It was like your eyes were opposite magnets trying to pull together. By the time the teacher handed out work, you didn't even realize that the 25 minutes had passed. You were so distracted by Chaewon that the only notes you took were the date and topic.

Staring at the paper in front of you, you tried to distance yourself from the doll-like girl and get the paper done so you didn't fail your class. However, as you worked your way through the paper you noticed she kept staring. “Do you need help with it? Since you just joined you might not be able to follow along,” you suggested while smiling at her. Chaewon immediately shook her head, face matching your teacher red pen.

“I'm fine, thank you,” she said while glancing down at her paper which had the first 5 problems finished, you couldn't tell if they were correct or not.

Shaking your head and starting problem number 8 Chaewon still stole glances at you. Choosing to be bold you turned to her once more “Why do you have to stare at me like that, I can't focus on my work.” Chaewon let out a quiet squeak and started to lightly laugh.

“I'm really sorry you're just really cute and I can't get over it,” she mumbled her sentence in order to hide her embarrassment. Her company would be killing her if they knew what she was doing.

“Thank you, Chaewon. You're also really cute,,, would you like to eat lunch with me? I can help you get caught up and I'd like to get to know you,” you said while leaning a little closer to her. Chaewon nodded her head eagerly.

“I'd like that, Y/n.”

[rkhosung]

A staff member leads you down NOVA’S winding hallways to Hyun Bin’s office, then opens the door and leads you inside, where the CEO awaits, sitting at his desk with his hands folded on top of it. His fingers are drumming against each other as he watches you enter. It seems as if he has been waiting for you already. Seated across from his desk, next to an empty chair, is a company lawyer whom you recognize from before; she’d been present when you signed your initial company contract. The staff member directs you to take the empty chair next to the lawyer and then leaves. You hear the door close and the latch click back into place as your CEO continues to look at you. After a moment of silence, he clears his throat and decides to speak up.

“Whenever I offer a position in this company, I am confident that this person is deserving of a spot in NOVA Entertainment and will be able to accomplish something great with our help and resources. I have high hopes for each and every of my trainees to not give up somewhere along the path and make it until here: debut.”

“And you didn’t disappoint me. During the Supernova Project, you got your chance to show me what you are made of and made good use of it. I was able to follow your up and downs and to watch you grow from every experience throughout your training and this project. You showed me that you are deserving of this spot in PER_SE.” He trails off, and diverts his attention to his desk, where he pulls a manila folder from a pile on the edge of his desk and sets it down in front of you. “This here,” he says, opening the folder to reveal a single sheet of paper, “is a contract exclusive to PER_SE and will tie you to this group, and to NOVA Entertainment, for the next six years.” 

“Hard work doesn’t stop after debut. It only begins.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he hands you a pen. “But if you are ready to do so and want to become a part of the top new boy group of Korea with my help, you know what to do.”

It wasn’t the first time that Hosung thought that the winding corridors of the Nova building felt like a labyrinth. He felt a bit like Theseus trying to get to the centre of the maze where the minotaur (his CEO) lay in wait, though he was considerably less well armed than his mythical counterpart. This meeting hadn’t come as a surprise, though he was still a bit apprehensive to be called up to the office, considering that they were in the middle of debut preparations. Hyunbin probably wanted to check on their progress in person since it was his money and they were his investments.

Hosung bowed deeply in greeting as he entered the office, trying his hardest not to look his boss in the eyes. Hyunbin still radiated such authority and intimidating vibes that Hosung felt rather uneasy every time he was within a ten metre radius of the other. Perhaps he was still feeling the after affects of being declared incompetent on the Supernova Project. He did take note of seeing the same lawyer who had been present during his initial contract signing, his pulse rising as he began to piece together what would be asked of him during this meeting.

Seeing the next six years of his future laid out on the table in front of him on a single sheet of A4 paper was surreal. With a few strokes of an ink pen his soul would belong to the company and the company alone for more than half a decade. How was it that paper could hold so much power? Hosung licked his suddenly dry as sand lips before reaching for the black ball point pen that lay next to the contract, fingers picking it up smoothly and bringing it towards the dotted line where he hesitated for a moment.

This was it. The moment he’d been working towards for the past year. Being an idol hadn’t been his initial dream, anyone who knew him well knew that, but over time he’d realised that it was a good foothold into the music industry. Hosung knew that he wanted to work with music for the rest of his life and one way to achieve that goal was to walk the path of an idol. It would never be easy and he was sure there would be a multitude of challenges thrown at him, but he felt ready. Ready to face anything to continue his dream of being able to eat, sleep, and dream music. If things didn’t work out… he could always fall back on going back to school and doing something with all his languages.

It was do or die.

Taking a deep breath, he signed his name. The feelings he had following that split second after were a mixture of relief tinged with the promise of bearing a heavy burden and a small feeling of regret. Had he been hasty? Was this how people felt after signing a deal with the Devil? It didn’t do to dwell on it. With a respectful bow he rose from his chair as the lawyer collected the document and filed it away somewhere in that black briefcase.

“Thank you for your kind words, Hyunbin CEO” he said humbly, “and thank you for seeing potential in me. I will work harder to become the Kim Hosung PER_SE and Nova Entertainment can be proud of. I will now take my leave, there are numerous things I have to work on before debut.”

And with a soft click he closed the door behind him. Only when Hosung arrived back in his personal little practice room did he allow his legs to give out, his back sliding down the wall as he sat down on the floor, his heart still hammering.

He was going to be an idol.

OOC NOTE: First of all, congratulations to arriving at the final step before debut! I know it’s been a long and crazy journey, and I’m so glad you’ve stuck through it. When you are ready, feel free to post this prompt with Hosung’s response to it.

Should Hosung choose to SIGN the PER_SE contract, he will be employed by NOVA Entertainment without a need to renew a contract until the duration of this one has concluded. As a reward for making it this far, he will receive THREE WEEKENDS unpaid vacation time to use any time between now and the end of October, so long as it doesn’t clash with any special debut activities (such as music show appearances, meaning he can’t actually use his vacation time until after his music show performances have finished.)

Should he choose to REJECT this contract with NOVA and PER_SE, he will leave the company, effective immediately upon rejection. He will be able to keep all of his debut points, but will not be able to take any trainee workshops or earn any more debut points/workshop points until he becomes a trainee again. He will not have any special advantage over newer characters when he auditions for other companies in the future, and should he become a trainee at a new company he will be considered a junior trainee all over again, even though he will still have his debut points and would be eligible for debut right away. He WILL have the right to audition for NOVA again, but the fact that he gave up a contract renewal, especially a debut one, WILL be taken into account in final casting decisions.

He will have up to one week to make his decision IC, meaning that if he does not make a decision by August 4th, he will automatically be cut from the company. Exceptions can be made for those on hiatus.

[rkmason]

RUNNIN’ TO YOU NOW 네게 달려가는 중 

 A staff member leads you down Sphere’s winding hallways to Baek Jiyoung’s office, then opens the door and leads you inside, where the CEO awaits, sitting at her desk. She looks up immediately when you enter, a sunny smile gracing her lovely features. Seated across from her desk, next to an empty chair, is a company lawyer whom you recognize from before; they had been present when you signed your initial company contract. The staff member directs you to take the empty chair next to the lawyer and then leaves. You hear the door close and the latch click back into place.

Baek Jiyoung claps her hands together, her eyes settling on yours. “When trainees first sign a contract with a company, they are devoting themselves to at least two years of training. They usually don’t expect the time to pass so quickly, but it does,” she says aloud thoughtfully. “Years of training and hopes leads to one dream usually: debut.”

“But, you’re no ordinary trainee. Since you’ve begun the CONVEX debut project, you’ve been groomed to be a talented member of a debut group I have incredibly high hopes for. I’ve seen you grow these past months in your training and the coaches have had plenty of praise and constructive advice for you. No matter what, you’ve always been progressing in the right direction.” She pauses, and diverts her attention back to her desk, where she shuffles paperwork until she sets one singular sheet of paper in front of herself. “I’ve been proud of your growth here, and I trust you to do your best to continue to improve, even after debut. This, here,” she says, motioning towards the document, “is a contract exclusive to CONVEX and will tie you to this group, and to Sphere Entertainment, for the next six years.”

Baek Jiyoung’s eyes warm with pride as she hands you a pen. “If we share the same vision of making CONVEX one of the top boy groups in all of Korea, and you wish to stay with us for the long journey, sign right here on the dotted line.”

He’s had this experience before, about a year and a half ago but he sat across from a different CEO then. Does that cross her mind? She had to think about it, right? Would he end up leaving again? What if he says no? What if he tells her he’s not ready the way he did after the season finale years ago? That kind of doubt doesn’t seem like Baek Jiyoung and he’s in more awe of her than he was back then. Her words are precise, kind, but the finality and authority isn’t lacking. He’s heard her referred to as many things. Mama Baekji. The kinder female CEO out of the five in the Samsung merger. Confusing. The center of Sphere. An alpha wolf. Sitting in front of a contract with her on the other side proves to him that she’s all of the above. 

He wants to be able to say that too: to say that there’s more than one definition to his name. For years, he’s lived by be you. In Sphere, he thinks he’s learned more about who he is as an artist and he has her to thank for it. He has twelve members to thank for that and he doesn’t need a contract to tie him to them or her for six years. He thinks, he knows, he would choose to again. His path led him here after four years of living in Seoul and he’d do it again if he meant he was debuting in Convex under Sphere. 

Taking the pen, he grins cheekily when he asks, “you know… I think someone else would be more— Did I get ya?” His signature is quick and he doesn’t look away out of curiosity and because he wants her to know his opinion on this isn’t gonna change. “You said you got the idea for my stage name from my instagram… since it’s like that, I’m gonna be Sphere’s last Romeo. Good luck gettin’ rid of me now.” 

OOC NOTE: First of all, congratulations to arriving at the final step before debut! I know it’s been a long and crazy journey, and I’m so glad you’ve stuck through it. When you are ready, feel free to post this prompt with your muse’s response to it.

Should he choose to SIGN the CONVEX contract, he will be employed by Sphere Entertainment without a need to renew a contract until the duration of this one has concluded. As a reward for making it this far, he will receive THREE WEEKENDS unpaid vacation time to use any time between now and the end of January, so long as it doesn’t clash with any special debut activities (such as music show appearances, meaning he can’t actually use his vacation time until after the music show performances have finished.)

Should he choose to REJECT this contract, he will leave the company effective immediately upon rejection. He will be able to keep all of his debut points, but will not be able to take any trainee workshops or earn any more debut points/workshop points until he becomes a trainee again. He will not have any special advantage over newer characters when he auditions for other companies in the future, and should he become a trainee at a new company he will be considered a junior trainee all over again, even though he will still have his debut points and would be eligible for debut right away. He WILL have the right to audition for Sphere again, but the fact that he gave up a contract renewal, especially a debut one, WILL be taken into account in final casting decisions.

He will have up to two weeks to make his decision IC, meaning that if he does not make a decision by September 21st, he will automatically be cut from the company.  Exceptions will be made for those on hiatus. 

Note: Hiatus ending Oct. 17th, 2018

[themusechronicles]

Debating a new muse

I really probably shouldn’t, but he’s kind of been peekign around in my headspace. 

Would anyone play with a Descendants Hddes? He’d be a mix of Descendants canon, Hercules and mythology. 

[rkxayah]

A staff member leads you down Royal’s winding hallways to So Jiseob’s office, then opens the door and leads you inside, where the CEO awaits, sitting at his desk. He doesn’t look up as you enter; he’s too preoccupied with paperwork in front of him. Seated across from his desk, next to an empty chair, is a company lawyer whom you recognize from before; she’d been present when you signed your initial company contract. The staff member directs you to take the empty chair next to the lawyer and then leaves. You hear the door close and the latch click back into place just as your CEO finally looks up and offers the tiniest hint of a smile.

He folds his hands on the desk in front of him, eyes settling on yours. “When trainees first sign a contract with a company, they are devoting themselves to at least two years of training. They usually don’t expect the time to pass so quickly, but it does,” he ruminates mildly.  “Years of training and hopes leads to one dream usually: debut.”

“But, you’re no ordinary trainee. Since you won Royal Survival, you’ve been groomed to be a member of Luxe, a debut group I have incredibly high hopes for. Since the show, I’ve seen you grow a lot in your training. You’ve had your ups and downs, plenty of both good and bad.” He pauses, and diverts his attention back to his desk, where he shuffles paperwork until he sets one singular sheet of paper in front of him. “I’ve been proud of your growth here, and I trust you to do your best to continue to improve, even after debut. This, here,” he says, motioning towards the document, “is a contract exclusive to Luxe and will tie you to this group, and to Royal Entertainment, for the next six years.”

He finally becomes a little less stoic, and shows the glimpse of a real smile as he slides the contract toward you and hands you a pen. “If we share the same vision of making Luxe one of the top girl groups in all of Korea, and you wish to be a part of this journey, you know what to do.”

including the time she spent in trc back in 2015, eunae thinks she must be nearing two years of experience as a trainee overall, but it’s never been done in the same company. while some people could call her fickle, say she hasn’t been loyal to one ceo all the time by spending time in not just two but three companies, she thinks it can become a strength. she’s seen other place, she’s been with a variety of trainees, has experienced numbers of coaches and different styles of teaching. royal, for her, has been the perfect dosage of both trust and authority. so jisub wants to put his trust in them but he also keeps a close eye, keeps them in check and doesn’t give them too much freedom. in order to succeed in this industry, eunae needs that. she needs to learn that sense of self-discipline. although she misses her freedom quite often, she also appreciates all the hard work she puts and the praise she receives when she does well, just as the scoldings when she does bad.

she moves next to the lawyer, who she recognizes from the previous time. they exchange brief, silent nods even though even bows a little lower as a sign of respect, just as she does to her ceo right before sitting in the empty chair. his gaze is, as usual, undecipherable when he first begins and someone with a lot of insecurities could almost fear they’re about to be fired but eunae, now known as xayah, holds his stare the entire time, sometimes nodding along and sometimes just listening. one thing she’s learned these past few months is how to remain seated and not look restless or bored after five minutes. she applies all the advice today, keeping her hands on her knees and her facial expressions neutral.

six years. it feels like a lifetime right now. in six years she’ll almost be 27 years old... her family would probably laugh if they could see her right now, being handed a pen which would sign her soul away to royal for the next several years. while they are proud of her she also knows that everyone expects her to change her mind soon, to decide she’s getting tired of this life and beg her parents to buy out her contract because they’re rich so it doesn’t matter to her. right? but they probably don’t realize that she’s more passionate than she’s ever been, that she came to like performing more than she ever liked football, or any other sport for that matter. she can’t even imagine herself just going back to being a regular student with a regular life.

she smiles back at so jisub, taking the pen without even an ounce of hesitation. just like with her real father, she often complains about him, gets angry at him, but at the end of the day she does trust he’s got their best interest at heart. from the very beginning he believed in her potential, even when he didn’t know her personally. he was right when he said she’s had plenty of good and bad this past year and she’s been both scolded and praised. when she thinks about her group members and all that’s ahead of them, eunae feels thrilled. the unknown is calling to her and she wants to be part of this adventure. she wants to be part of the first idol group of one of the big five to debut in so many years.

without saying a word, she signs her name at the very bottom of the contract, then looks up brightly at the ceo. “you know, even before royal survival my dream was always to come here... but i still took the chance going somewhere else thinking another opportunity would come and that i would grow until then. so i’m really glad you still believed in me and had enough patience with me! i won’t disappoint you.”

OOC NOTE: First of all, congratulations to arriving at the final step before debut! I know it’s been a long and crazy journey, and I’m so glad you’ve stuck through it. When you are ready, feel free to post this prompt with Eunae’s response to it.

Should Eunae choose to SIGN the Luxe contract, she will be employed by Royal Entertainment without a need to renew a contract until the duration of this one has concluded. As a reward for making it this far, she will receive THREE WEEKENDS unpaid vacation time to use any time between now and the end of October, so long as it doesn’t clash with any special debut activities (such as music show appearances, meaning she can’t actually use her vacation time until after her music show performances have finished.)

Should she choose to REJECT this contract with Royal and Luxe, she will leave the company, effective immediately upon rejection. She will be able to keep all of her debut points, but will not be able to take any trainee workshops or earn any more debut points/workshop points until she becomes a trainee again. She will not have any special advantage over newer characters when she auditions for other companies in the future, and should she become a trainee at a new company she will be considered a junior trainee all over again, even though she will still have her debut points and would be eligible for debut right away. She WILL have the right to audition for Royal again, but the fact that she gave up a contract renewal, especially a debut one, WILL be taken into account in final casting decisions.

She will have up to two weeks to make her decision IC, meaning that if she does not make a decision by July 28th, she will automatically be cut from the company.  Exceptions can be made for those on hiatus.

[secretshinigami]

Departure

Title: Departure Author: @invcnio-patcr For: @realtruesuccessor Pairings/Characters: (slightly implied platonic)Near/Mello, Near, Roger Ruvie, Quillsh Wammy, Matt, Mello, OC Rating/Warnings: General Prompt: After Kira’s death, Near experiences a strange and unexpected series of events that can only be described as a haunting Author’s notes: I liked writing this a lot, and staying up until 4 AM two days in a row was worth it. 11/10 would write again. (Also, I really hope my Near was not too OOC, he was a fun challenge to write and really allowed me to step out of my comfort zone)

Near could not quite put his finger on what awoke him that dreadful, cold night – he knew for sure he had not been dreaming, for he always remembered them, he felt no discomfort or pain in his body, and his room was quiet as it could be. Instances such as these were rare – though one would have hardly dared to guess it from a boy – no, a man, he had to remind himself, he was grown-up – a man such he was, tiny and light, Near was quite heavy sleeper. Though he was not knowledgeable of it himself, Near’s sleeping habits were much less hectic and leaned towards being normal much more than his predecessor’s – unlike the original L, he slept most nights, and the longest time of him being awake stood currently at around fifty hours, last ten or so of them thoroughly unpleasant, sickening stupor filled with what seemed endless cups of iced coffee. Near remembered Roger’s fury when the older man had found out – though he had not exactly yelled at Near, he had still yanked the half-filled cup of coffee from the boy’s hands and taken him straight to the nurse who took care of the Wammy’s house children, proving once agan that though one could have hardly seen it from the fact that the man was not quite as affectionate to the children as Quillsh Wammy had once been, it was clear as day that despite everything Roger still loved them. It was the little things that showed that – how Roger did not hesitate to help children with their studies if needed, how the elder let younger ones partake in gardening while teaching them about various plants, how he often persuaded Near to come to eat when the younger found it easier to stay in his room, and once met with the younger’s stubborn refusal, brought him sandwiches he knew Near adored – plain, slightly toasted, with a light layer of butter and exactly four cucumber slices on the top, eight almost identical sandwiches that Near slowly ate thorough the day – not for his own sake, but to bring Roger peace of mind when the older came to check on him.

Near had been back in his old orphanage for a little more than a month now. The aftermath of Kira case had been wrapped up, and despite warm feelings towards his team, a part of Near still wanted to be in Winchester… It was a feeling Near could not quite point out, something between homesickness and desire for protection only certain places could give. Despite the pressure it had on him at times, in the end, Wammy’s house had been the closest thing to home Near had ever had. At times Near dreamt of being younger – before the Kira case, when his greatest problems were the location of an airplane he had lost somewhere(it had turned out in the living room, resting atop of a bookcase located directly behind a grand piano Roger liked to play at times) and whether or not he passed his Latin test, and even if now instead of studying and playing with his toys he solved cases in his room, he still felt closer to what could be considered the best times of his life here – before being caught by the System, Nate River had been but an occasional punching bag for his single mother every second day and on the rest of the days, someone to ask to bring her more vodka from the store, regardless of the weather, and afterwards his foul luck had sent him to an orphanage with staff that was not quite neglectful, but still lacked some kind of warmth that is needed for children to grow up happy, especially for those neglected and abused by their parents – though it would not have seemed so at the first glance, Near remembered Wammy’s house as home foremost, where Quillsh Wammy would read the children stories during the evenings in the living room, where lazy summer afternoons would be spent in the garden, laying beneath the trees – with Near placing a blanket under himself to avoid the dirt getting into his clothes – and cold winter mornings would have majority of the children drinking hot chocolate in front of the fireplace, sometimes having taken a plate from the dining hall with food with them and sometimes, albeit rarely, Roger would showcase his skills on the grand piano located in the living room – it puzzled Near at times, why Roger, such a talented man when it came to playing the piano, would choose biology as his passion, but in the end he supposed he could relate somewhat – he would spend hours in the orphanage’s art classroom, painting, despite in the end detective work remaining as his main “profession”, if one could call it that. He had left that hobby behind during the Kira case, but still he couldn’t help but doodle with the pens onto the edges of the paper at times.

Quietly, he slipped out of his bed and shivered at the sudden cool – Near had always liked having thick blankets, and at this time of the year especially, he preferred to bury himself under a pile of warm, heavy covers that covered his whole bed – the feeling of them was comforting in an odd way, it made him feel safe, as if the soft cocoon could protect him from the whole world. A memory came into his mind – he must have been eight or nine, just having arrived into the orphanage, when he got terribly ill to the state that he had to be spoonfed, for there was no strength in the boy to do it himself. He had been sleeping most of the time, and almost all of the memories from back then were hazy, but on one occasion, he remembered, he had felt oddly bare – like a snail without its shell, he had thrashed, reaching for something he could not reach, mouth forming feverous, muddled strings of words – then someone had gently covered him with thick blanket, and at once Near had felt at ease as he heard Roger’s words - “It’s all good, your blanket just slipped, sleep on now,”. Thinking back, it was logical that someone would look after him – even when he caught nothing more than just cold, it was not uncommon for one of the staff members to be beside his bed at least a few hours during day, and of course during sickness so severe someone would be with him constantly. Near still remembered this gesture by Roger, and it made him feel an odd sense of warmth towards the older – though Wammy was arguably more gentle with children, at times even coddlling, while Roger was quite straightforward and could be a bit too strict sometimes, Near preferred the latter – Roger would not try to treat him like a child, would not try to wrap him into cotton like Wammy tried to do at times, and would not be afraid to expose Near to truth, even if it was cold and uncomfortable.

The soft, fluffy socks on Near’s feet made his steps almost soundless – though there was no need to be quiet, for Roger had given him a separate room now that he was the next L, Near preferred making no noise, even if there was no danger of waking up a roommate. Still slightly shivering from the cold, Near made his way over to a dresser to pull out a light blue sweater, one the nurse had knit him as a welcome home gift – Esmeralda, she was called, a middle-aged woman who had always had a talent for knitting, and more often than not, when she was looking over a child fallen ill, a new scarf or hat would appear over the night onto their nightstand or around their neck. Over the years, Near had accumulated quite a collection of woolen scarves – before growing into a teenager, his immunity system had been terribly frail, and Near couldn’t help but be thankful for the fact he had grown out of it.

Though he did have a pocketwatch Wammy had left to him in his will – the old inventor had left something from his large amount of possessions for each and every child in the Wammy’s house – Near bore the time no mind – by his guesses, it must have been three or four in the morning, but did it truly matter? Right now, all he wanted was to take a walk, perhaps get himself some water and go back to sleep.

Unlike his room, the corridors had no windows, and so Near had no option but to navigate using a wall to his right – his night vision was quite poor, and he did not want to risk running into a wall. Again, his slow steps made no sound – Near couldn’t help but feel a strange uneasiness creep up in him – the silence was odd, felt unnatural, harmful even.

But like the waves of a small pebble seem like monstrous waves on a calm lake, the silence amplifies the sounds, making even the quietest cough, the smallest wind feel like an orchestra, or a train whistle – and so Near almost jumped as he heard the sudden whisper around the corner – but after the momentary first startle that usually tends to disappear, his fear only heightened – he knew this voice, had known it so well – why was it still here? Quillsh Wammy had been buried years ago, why could Near hear his voice whispering now?

“Ought you not be in the bed at this time, young man?” The old man – no, what was left of him – a translucent, bright white shape of Quillsh Wammy, in his plain black suit as always – had turned around the corner, and Near took an involuntary step back, his mind racing. This could not be happening – this was impossible, ghosts were not real – once a person was dead, they were gone – Quillsh Wammy, their father had died – Near had been to his funeral, had heard his will read out by Roger, had geen to his grave…

Near opened his mouth to scream, but nothing come out – all he could do was wheeze, and suddenly his cheeks were wet with trails of tears running down them, he realized he couldn’t breathe – his lungs were expanding and deflating uncontrollably, shallow breaths the only thing moving through his mouth – and a moment later Near fell into darkness, his last sight before succumbing to sleep being Father’s glowing shape.

When he awoke, it was bright – it took Near a moment to realize that he was back in his own bed, under a soft, white blanket, and another to notice that he was still wearing the light blue sweater. Yet the night’s events seemed unreal – Near had never been religious, nor had he believed in ghosts. But then what had been this thing whispering to him in the corridor? Near knew that Roger couldn’t have carried him here – he would have been awoken in the progress, and despite being small for his age, Near still was a considerable weight for an old man to carry.

A small cough escaped Near’s throat, and with that came a slight pain – the young man cursed internally, curling his fingers into a fist. Could it really be that he had gotten ill just from that night walk? Though he did not feel particularly awful, it was quite cold, even despite the thick blankets and sweater – well, it was not like he had any cases to solve as of now. He could stay in his room for a bit and perhaps spend the day napping – the thought seemed good enough, and Near turned himself to face the wall, when he felt something terribly rough brush his fingers – texture of something oddly familiar, yet he couldn’t quite point out what it was…

Carefully he picked up what felt like a thick piece of paper, and the young man’s eyes widened in sudden mix of confusion and horror as he drew out the item from under his blankets – his own faint, cracked reflection looked back from the slightly torn silver wrapping, and a moment later the smell hit him – sweet and thick, like the chocolate Mello used to eat – Near remembered this smell far too well, he had always had a very sharp sense of smell, and this particular one always made him a little sick with its overpowering sweetness that tore at him like thick, thick mud, covering everything in its vicinity – yet the wrapping was empty, devoid of any crumbs or pieces, and a moment later the smell was gone as well. Though it was trash, it did not belong here, should not have been here Near still held it, dark eyes inspecting every single detail, every single bend and tiny tear – he had never been fond of chocolate, and he would have certainly felt it had it been in his bed earlier.

A sudden knock tore him out of his inspection, and before he could even respond, Roger entered. “You’re awake, I see,” the old man gave him a small smile, before walking over to the bed, “Are you feeling unwell?” In response to Near’s nod, Roger placed a plate he had been carrying onto the younger’s bedside table, “I brought you something to eat. What is this?” Near handed Roger the wrapper, turning his head away. “I found it,” somehow, it had suddenly become much harder to speak – and the slight ache in his throat was the least discomfort about it, “It appeared here,” Near had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying – why, why had he suddenly realized part of him missed a certain blonde-haired child who would always try his best? They had never been friends – not enemies either, but outside of being rivals they had gotten along reasonably well, unless it came to competition of any kind.

“I see,” Though Near had turned away his eyes, he could hear that Roger’s voice was slightly shaking, “It must have fallen from somewhere.” Carefully, Roger reached to gently pet Near’s hair, and the younger could not help but relax a little, even if the touch made him shiver for some odd reason – he enjoyed receiving affection from someone he trusted, particularly when his hair was the one touched. Slowly looking up again, Near couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of the plate on his nightstand – a bowl of porridge, with some honey on top – enough to keep the porridge from being bland, while also not overpowering with its sweetness. “Thank you,” Near muttered, adjusting himself to sit higher on the pillows and taking the plate in front of him with slightly shaky hands. As he raised a spoonful into his mouth, Near closed his eyes to indulge in taste – he loved it, the gentle sweetness of honey mixed with the porridge’s bland taste, but soft texture that made it easy to swallow and pleasant to feel with his tongue – even with a slight ache in his throat, Near could swallow without much pain, in fact it even seemed to ease it ever-so-slightly.

He was almost halfway finished with the bowl, when he looked up to Roger – the old man had been sitting in his chair the whole time, not saying a word. “Roger,” Near muttered, and received a hum as a signal to continue, “Do… No, rather, do you think that beings from afterlife, such as… ghosts, exist?” the night’s incident had suddenly resurfaced in his mind, and Near wanted some kind of confirmation – someone who would tell him whether or not he had been hallucinating, whether or not it was a dream – times such as these were rare, but even the greatest detective in the world needed support sometimes.

Roger chuckled at the question – a sound the old man had seldom made, especially over the last several years since the beginning of Kira case. “I never thought you would ask such things,” Roger’s face remained into a smile – though it was a sad one, “A child as oriented on science as you are… Well, I suppose there must be an afterlife of some kind, no?” Near nodded, continuing to eat as Roger spoke, “There is a belief ghosts are souls of the people who have passed on, but have not achieved peace and thus cannot move on to true afterlife. They are stranded here, some unable to ever leave, some only present for only long enough to say goodbye to the ones they care about.” Near looked up momentarily from his meal, and noticed tears that had come to Roger’s eyes. “Sir…?” The younger was at loss of words – never before had he seen Roger cry, besides Quillsh Wammy’s funeral, “Sir, what’s…” but he was interrupted. “Sorry, I lost control over myself,” Roger brushed away the tears, “You will understand when you are older, Near. Now eat and rest,” with that, the old man stood and left – Near couldn’t help but notice how pale Roger seemed – was the old man sick? Had it been just his own imagination? Deciding to pay it no mind for now, Near continued eating.

Several hours later, most of them filled with sleep, before he found himself unable to rest anymore, Near had found himself a piece of reading – Kafka’s The Trial, a book Near had wanted to read for a while, had even taken it to his room from the library a long time ago, but never had really gotten to it – when suddenly, just as he was about to finish the fifth chapter, he heard it – the faint sound of beeps coming from somewhere above. Dark eyes glanced to the ceiling – empty, just light wood, but nothing to cause the mechanical sounds – before going back to the book, and for a while Near managed to tune them out. However, the unmistakable whiff of cigarette smoke had him coughing and feeling sick just a mere few minutes later later – and then Near almost jumped at the sound of several books from his bookcase falling down.

With a sigh of annoyance, Near crawled out of the blankets – once again, shivering slightly at the sudden cold – and made his way over to the bookcase. He could not stand it when items were not as he had organized them, and books on the floor certainly were not part of the plan. However, as he glanced over the titles of the books, Near couldn’t help but stop for a moment. Two had fallen, and the names seemed to be too odd for conscience - “Fahrenheit 452,” Near muttered the titles aloud, “Basics of C++ programming language,” the former he had gotten as a gift long ago, and the latter he had bought a little before Kira case – now, too, he sometimes found himself indulging in books about computers and how they worked, but ever since Matt’s death Near found that it hurt in an odd way to think about such things, and so such things remained untouched.

As he stood up on his toes to reach the shelf from which the books had fallen, a tiny piece of paper fell from between the former book – Near picked it up as soon as he could, only to see no words written on it – just a single letter, written in a neat capitalised cursive.

L

Walking back to the bed, Near couldn’t help but gaze at the piece of paper – it could not have been his own handwriting, for his cursive had never been so good, and who would leave such thing between his books in the first place…?

His thoughts were interrupted by another series of beeping noises – Near had not even noticed that it had stopped for a moment, and this time they seemed have a pattern, one long, three short ones, one long, repeat, almost like a code of some kind – but the source still seemed to be from nowhere, (or was it everywhere?). No matter where Near seemed to walk, how he positioned himself, the beeps were same – when suddenly they stopped abruptly, ending with the last long one, and another whiff of cigarette smoke found itself into his nose, making him cough.

“I am losing my mind,” Near muttered to himself, returning to the book he had been reading before, “It is imagination,” one of pale hands wandered and found arm of a teddy bear he kept in his bed, squeezing it tightly for comfort, “It is just my imagination,” Near whispered again, putting down the book and letting himself lay down – he could not concentrate anymore, the sounds and sudden smell had been too distracting…

He did not notice falling asleep, but a knock on the door awoke him – this time it was Esmeralda, the nurse, a middle-aged woman with sharp face and dark hair put up in a bun. Almost immediately Near could tell something was wrong – there was something about her face that indicated it. “Hello, miss-,” he started, but was cut off.

“Near, darling,” the woman’s words were barely above a whisper, “I am sorry for not telling you earlier, I thought you were asleep…” “What is it?” His words came out sharper than he had wanted, but Near knew he had to know, had to learn – he felt that it was important, something he could not miss…

The nurse took in a breath, looking Near into eye, and letting out a mutter:

“Roger is dead.”

Near felt sick – the words were so simple, yet their meaning turned his world upside down, shook it all like a sudden stormwaves would shake a tiny fishing boat, and without even realizing it, Near’s mouth moved to let out a command, sharp and angry, rising in pitch: “Say it again.”

“Roger is dead – I’m sorry, Near, we thought you were-” “No,” In one quick motion, Near threw the blanket off himself, before bringing his knees to his chest and hugging them against himself, “He- Why?” He felt so utterly powerless, weak – just mere hours ago the old man had been here, talking to him, and now he was gone – Near wanted to run to his office and cling to him, scream at him – but Esmeralda was a serious woman, and Near knew she was not the kind to joke about such things – hell, nobody in this house would joke about such things.

“He died early in the morning,” Esmeralda’s voice tore Near out of his thoughts, “It must have been in his sleep, he passed peace-” “But he was here,” Near’s thoughts were racing once again, “He was here – he woke me up, he…” a sudden realization came onto him like an unexpected downpour – Roger’s words, the chuckle – the one Roger often made when a child’s guesses were quite close to the truth, but not completely – the paleness… There would be only one way to prove it – Near knew it was unlikely, but trying was the least he could do.

The rest of the day passed in an odd blur – Near slept a lot before the nightfall, and luckily for him his slumber was dreamless. When he was not sleeping he would be pacing around his room mindlessly, or staring into the ceiling, thinking before his eyelids would turn heavy once again. There were no beeps anymore, no falling books – only a few whiffs of cigarette smell, the only thing that grounded Near to the hope that he was right, for otherwise he would have thought everything else to be an odd dream of his.

Once again he woke early in the morning, and once again he slipped out of his bed quietly, once again he snuck into the corridor, hand on the right-side wall…

There was nothing but silence and darkness, and for a while Near roamed the halls, heart racing in anticipation, as he prayed to whatever deity might listen – please let me see them again, please let me see them again… And once again he flinched at the sudden whisper that came before the entity turned around the corner.

This time Quillsh Wammy was not the only one – Roger followed, a tired smile on his face, and behind him still in their teenage years, Matt and Mello. “Ought you not be asleep, young man?” Wammy’s voice was soft as it had been, but this time Near did not fear. “Father,” he whispered, “Roger, Matt, Mello-” the words caught in his throat, and a moment later Near realized he was crying. “Why are you here?” “I told you today,” Roger stepped closer, making Near shiver with the cold his soul emitted, “Some spirits need to bid farewell to their loved ones before being able to rest in peace. It seems they did not want to leave without me,” Roger knelt to Near’s eye level, “Don’t try to reach us, Near. At sunrise, we will go where we belong – humans cannot reach this place before their death.” Surprised by the words, Near nodded as Roger withdrew, and Quillsh came slightly closer instead. “Well done, my boy,” the elder smiled, “I am proud of you, especially for solving this case – I am sure L would be proud of you as well.” Matt followed, and Near noticed that unlike alive, his ghost form had no cigarette in his mouth - “Read the book, Near,” was all he said, “I know ya’re good at detective stuff, but programming is gonna be useful for ya,” and then, for a while, there was silence after Matt withdrew, before Mello turned to the youngest. “I hope I could at least help,” was all the second said, and this time Near respond to the ghost:

“Without you I would have died.” and a moment’s hesitation later, he reached out his hand, “Thank you, Mello. Was the paper from you?” As the ghost pressed his hand back, Near couldn’t help but shiver form the coldness, “It was,” Mello smiled a little, “I hope you will not forget me.” “I won’t.”

And then Mello was gone – stepped again behind Roger and Wammy, to be with Matt. “You ought to go back to sleep,” Wammy leaned slightly closer to him, “We wouldn’t want your cold to get worse, now would we?” At the elder’s words, Near noticed that the ache in his throat had returned – and what use would there be in trying to keep these ghosts here any longer? Without a word, Near nodded, and as he turned to look back one last time before turning around the corner, they were gone.

And no more did whiffs of cigarette smoke or chocolate wrappers appear in his room.

[the-royal-courier]

October Writing Contest

In the month of October we challenged you to send in stories in the spirit of Hallow’s End. We received 11 entries by the deadline. Each entry in the contest was a work of art. The team had a tough time choosing their favorites.

Congratulations to each of our winners!

You can read each of the winning submissions below.

First Place

In first place, a tragic story of one man’s lost life at the hand of betrayal. Written by one of Stormwind’s guards, Baelyra Moonblade

The Trouble with Murlocs

By Baelyra Moonblade ( @thelearnedsoldier)

Second Place

Our second place winner, chose to go into the dark and bring us a story more fitting with the spookier side of Hallow’s End.

Dancing in Moonlight

By Ogrimskar Ironhands ( @ogrimskar)

Third Place

In third place, a story entered by an author we have published before. She is a poet at heart, but she dipped into the well of creativity to pen a story of eternal love.

But Not Forgotten

by Eloniea Dreamwalker ( @riven-butterfly )

Honorable Mention

In fourth place, chosen by my staff a story so evil it could only have been stolen by the one true villain.  An original work by the greatest evil known to Stormwind: the one, the only The Great Nyehehe

The Problem with Murlocs

Written by the Great Nyehehe (@thegreatnyehehe)

Thank you to everyone who submitted a story. Even though you were not chosen as a finalist, your stories deserve to be shared. (Click the links below to read all the other entries in the contest).

In the Crypt - By Olivia Lovecraft (@olivia-lovecraft)

Ghost Wedding - By Dakkian Connell (@lapse-of-epoch)

Ghost Wedding - By Moria Yamina (@moriayamina)

In the Crypt - By Moria Yamina (@moriayamina)

Memoirs from the Mausoleum - By Nyrissa Oceanus (@manicmermaid420)

The Host - By Isolde Redmane (@isolde-redmane)

Child of Wisp - By Ezaine Knitsbraid (@ezaineknitsbraid )

Special thanks to all of The Royal Courier team for reading all these wonderful submissions!

(OOC Note: The winners were decided by members of The Royal Courier guild. Each entry was presented in an cleaned up format (ready for publish) with the Author’s name removed to eliminate bias. As the editor, I did not vote. I left it to the team to read and choose their favorites.)

[spxritguardixns]

Drabble

(ooc: So, trying to warm up my creative side which has been stifled.)

The phone call had been cryptic, which wasn’t something the largest shareholder in Genm Corporation was used to.  She’d been told by a stranger to come to the lab, alone.  Against her better judgment, Nico had gone.  Since most people there knew her, she’d been waved through.  One of the heros of the recent Outbreak and all that.

But the lab itself was empty except for the dull hum of computers and machinery..and a note on the central table.

‘Before the Bugster outbreak, other crises befell our world and others.  Times of myth, technology, and legend.  Were it not for an Author to chronicle the rise of Heroes and Villains, the world would have forgotten.’

What?  What did this even mean?  The young gamer was bewildered at the thought of a bigger picture than just her games, but her restless eyes returned to the parchment below.

“Unfortunately, a man we only remember as H.S. was the previous Author, and fell victim to the Bugster virus.  Your dear friend Taiga defeated him, but Kuroto Dan used his knowledge to create a completely different kind of Chronicle..one that used the power of the pen for evil.”

“H.S.?  Who wrote this? I’m seriously creeped out..but intrigued too.”  She muttered, continuing to read.

“Your comrades put to rest the evil of Kamen Rider Chronicle, but in doing so created a void.  There must be a new Author, one to write the stories as they see them happening.  To carry on the hopes and dreams of all who have stood for human freedom.  If you choose this, take the Driver and Gashat that are on the table...you’ll know what to do.”

Signed,

H.T., T.K., M.I. / S.H and T.T.