#~*(wc: 1437;)

[ryujinrk]

-.✦･｡ﾟMGA season 5: episode 5, kyung’s outfit (lyrics + line distribution)            performing block b “jackpot” with @rkjaemin & @rksuwoong 

They look absolutely ridiculous in their brightly yellow outfits that makes them all look like some giant bumble bees but honestly, Ryujin does believe that if they are going to have a fair chance to win this whole thing they need to walk the extra mile that she reckon some people will skip. It should be more than enough to gain attention though, and part of her love, love, love, that they are actually about to be this extra about the whole concept. They aren’t only covering the song, they are stepping into the roles with the same enthusiasm as Block B.

Considering how the week started it’s almost unbelieveable how comfortably Ryujin sit next to her partners, SUWOONG in particular, their first impressions of each other so turbulent it even resulted in the teen experiencing her very first migraine attack that sent her to the infirmary. If it wasn’t for JAEMIN then the trio would likely have been doomed because truthfully, the dynamic between them was just that bad. They call themselves the Golden Trio and are the very last to parform today; saving the best group for last, is what she like to believe. 

There are so many strong song choices this week but for some reason, she is confident in her own group. It’s a familiar trait for her to be convinced of the fact that her stages are good but it isn’t just her this time, Ryujin has such strong faith in the Golden Trio because they have been through both good and bad together, they have bonded in a way that she think has brought the three of them closer. The performances start off strong, some certainly more interesting than others, and she looks forward to the group that she shared practice room with.

Ryujin is beyond excited when they head down to ready themselves to perform, the eyes that she has felt piercing through her the entire month suddenly don’t feel so scary anymore since the truth has finally been brought to the table. CHAERYEONG, NAKYUNG and WOOJIN step away from the stage and leave it empty, ready for the very last group to perform. She walk out with the males that she has worked with for seven days straight, a cheeky grin playing on her lips as she know that they look silly. They introduce themselves, THE GOLDEN TRIO. 

“I’m Lee Suwoong, I’m Na Jaemin, I’m Shin Ryujin - And we are the Golden Trio!”

Not necessarily because they are the best, though she believes that SUWOONG would argue that they most certainly are-- she too, honestly, but the group name means something more to complete their concept. As they shift into their positions she know that they are starting quickly, and she has to hit the beat, which has yet to be a hinder for her. They look stiff like dolls, which obviously is by purpose, their whole posture revealing what they are aiming for. Tense shoulders, bright smiles, head moving from one side to the other as Ryujin voice the first line.

0.00 저 오빠들 이상해 Those oppas are weird

She almost can’t contain herself when SUWOONG screams, that alone setting the mood for a great performance, but she remain professional and instead of laughing she grin genuinely as she move behind the elder as she and JAEMIN pose as the current backup dancers. They are swiftly and playfully shifting between who carry that particular role, depending on who’s in front doing their part. JAEMIN is the first one out with a proper verse, the two others dancing slightly differently to him before they hide behind him, only to pop out soon after to each his sides.

His rap is flawless in Ryujin’s ears and she is proud, in one way, to see him perform something like this. He’s quiet and usually keeps to himself, so that he agreed to such an energetic stage definitely took her by surprise. It’s fun though, they are having fun-- she thinks, at least. She is preparing herself for for the next part of the song, the first verse that she has been assigned. It suited her perfectly, being able to pretend for a moment that she is the famous P.O of Block B-- he’s not a dancer, they don’t have that in common, which makes it so much more fun.

Fit한 턱시도와 Brand new shoes Fit tuxedo and brand new shoes 여비서와 Well-being food Female secretary and well-being food 근사하게 외출준비, Fabulously get ready to go, 눈떠보니까 꿈이야 opened my eyes and it was a dream

난 지금 레이스중 I’m in the middle of a race 내 출세가 남에겐 Bad news My success to others is bad news

Midways into her verse the males position themselves perfectly to each her side, SUWOONG kneel in front of her to the right side while JAEMIN stand suspiciously to her left. The former is supposedly, through acting, kicked away and at the same time the latter is knocked to the very opposite side. The first part of the rap lacks dancing from her side as P.O refrain from it during the original choreography, but when she moves into the short part of dancer and rapper U-kwon she get a chance to do both herself. The song has a short pause, before the refrain.

SUWOONG comes in strong as he always does, during a part that requires a power vocal. It’s potentially risky picking a song with such power vocals but Ryujin has faith in her partners, the very least she can do is believe in them as they have practiced their asses off for seven days straight to make it through. He and JAEMIN share most of the refrain as well as the bridge, she only has one line in there but that’s okay, she is about to deliver a full verse soon after anyway. High kicks, twirls and giddy moves shift into the puppeteer dance from the intro.

While the males stood in front during that particular part Ryujin slide effortlessly in, in front of JAEMIN and lead the march of dolls until another playful fighting scene takes place to introduce her next verse. One apparent hit from one male, another from the other, twirl a few times and then JAEMIN kicks her off into the spotlight again. She absolutely loves this song, there is so much happening although there is a obvious red thread throughout the whole masterpiece. She grins broadly, the others waiting in the background for their choreo to start.

Aight- 나이를 먹어도 Even though I age 지갑은 탄력 넘치겠지 I bet my wallet will become very flexible 헛스윙 날려도 나, Though I make a bad swing, 나이스샷이라는 Caddie “nice shot” says my caddie 나를 무시했던 놈들에게 I will shake the hands of those who ignore me 복수대신 악수를 건네네 instead of getting revenge 조심해 넥타이와 손목시계는 Be careful, my necktie and wristwatch 목줄 또는 수갑으로 변해 becomes a collar and handcuffs

During the fourth line she swing her hand as if holding a baseball bat, the others pretending to watch the imaginary ball fly away. Part of her can relate to the lyrics that she’s assigned, from the very start to the end. These oppas are weird, they most certainly are. Fabulously get ready to go, opened my eyes and it was a dream, she was ready to debut but suddenly she was cancelled. I will shake the hands of those who ignore me instead of getting revenge, she is better than a certain someone who most definitely deserved revenge.

The beat shift slightly during her verse and while the origianl choreography calls for two girls, as backup dancers, and a somewhat suggestive squat, SUWOONG and JAEMIN came up with an alternative that they were both comfortable with. Ryujin follows the original choreography as the dance itself is rather basic, she’s only moving her free hand, lowering her body at one time, and then getting back up just in time for SUWOONG to lead her out of the spotlight like a cop and a criminal so that JAEMIN could step into center. They walk casually back and behind him, as to effortlessly claim the roles as backupdancers once again.

Refrain comes, refrain goes-- bridge and finally, the final act of their show. SUWOONG, along with Ryujin, pretent to fight in a silly manner. One hit, another hit, Ryujin pretends to grab onto the other’s blazer before JAEMIN breaks them apart as he then lead them into the final refrain and thus the ending part. Ryujin was looking forward to this bit the most, the entire stage has been practiced to fit perfection but this last scene was something that they came up with all by themselves. SUWOONG, in fact, but she loved the idea so she went with it. They all share a line here and a line there, performing around one another just like practiced.

And then...

When JAEMIN voice that they have hit the jackpot they begin to toss out a bit of chocolate coins to the audience, like they are sharing their wealth with everyone else. It’s hilarious that they are the final group on the stage performing, having this ending to the whole lineup-- the coins complete the act, in Ryujin’s eyes and she feel amazing as she close up the stage. Her eyes meet some random pairs in the audience, they meet the judges, and Ryujin is goofing around while having fun. 

라라라 라랄라, uh, Luxury Luxury life Lalala lalala, uh, luxury luxury life 라라라 라랄라, Get that money money Lalala lalala, get that money money get that right get that right 라라라 라랄라, Luxury Luxury life Lalala lalala, luxury luxury life Anyway we’re playing hard to get lucky Anyway we’re playing hard to get lucky

NOTE!! please pretend like ryujin is as energic, joyful, playful and expressive as they are in the original performance stage. i know i didn’t get to write that obviously bc i’m short on time :(

[katsutora]

— eventide ; haitani rindou

timeskip spoiler ⋆ angst with comfort ⋆ 1437 wc ⋆ ooc ⋆ self-indulgent ⋆ no friends, not beta read

tw: mention of gun ⋆ mention of blood ⋆ a bit dark themed at 1170 word count 

Haitani Rindou found himself awake before you like he always does. It’s a routine to stay still for a long while, so as not to wake you up and to cherish the comfortable silence that he no longer gets so often as he used to. He angled his palm this way and that to shield you from tendrils of sunlight sneaking through the curtains.

In less than five minutes, you will probably open your eyes to see him facing you, pretending to be asleep. He likes to think that he knows you well enough to predict how you’ll place a hand on his right cheek to silently tell him that it’s time for you to go. And he’ll hold his breath as you collect your stuff that’s scattered around his apartment, as if he could stop time, as if he could fool himself a little longer.

The clock ticks by, counting down the seconds until you’re completely gone: your phone on top of the headboard; your coat slung over the couch; your shoes right by the entrance; a trace of his perfume on your skin; a piece of his thought; a story from his childhood; an insight of your daily lives; his heart.

He’ll never witness your gaze lingering on him right before you reach the door. He’ll never get to see you turn your head back to look at him one last time, just like how he often envisions for the sake of his own sanity. Why does he keep on letting this happen? Why isn’t he brave enough to say “good morning” to you the moment he felt you stir awake? Why can’t it ever be normal? Why can’t he ever let it be normal?

Maybe he wants to see you leave — leave him first before you find out about his ugliest side. Perhaps there’s a tiny part of him that wants you to keep on leaving him without sitting on his dining table and having breakfast with him beforehand, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to actually watch you cross the threshold with no assurance of coming back. It’s not your home, after all. He’s not your home.

People are easily replaceable, he understands this a bit better than others; the gun which he used a week ago is hidden in the nightstand drawer right next to him, just above the pile of resignation letters and the new CVs. His phone carries a number of unanswered calls and his computer is filled with thousands of signed documents. When he doesn't feel like sparing a glance towards them, he doesn't.

Everyone is an afterthought. The only promise they'll hold is constantly coming along and leaving. It's a cycle but somehow they never come back. Rindou knows that he needs to start admitting that he's just an afterthought to everyone else too. 

Of course he's always anxiously glancing over his phone right after throwing it across the room after sending a you text. Because he's in no place to ask anyone to stay, and he wouldn't dare dream of being asked to stay either. 

Just one night, he had typed in. Before you go. 

Just one more night, he deceived himself. Before I won't be seeing you again. Before I have to say goodbye and wish you all the best with someone else. Before I have to congratulate you. Before I die. Before I won't be able to love anyone ever again. Don't go. Before I beg you at the airport. Before I cling onto your coat. Before I refuse to let you go. Before I Don't go 

He clutched the device tightly, anticipating the blow. Don't go before I—

It's a cycle but somehow they never come back.

Okay. You had agreed on his offer. You owe him that much before departing: the mandatory goodbye and the thank you that was never spoken between the two of you. In case you change your mind, right? Will you ever change your mind? Or has it never changed at all? 

It was no doubt the sound of a door opening and then closing. Though he willed himself not to flinch at the noise, he still did. Rindou kept his eyes shut nonetheless, his hand unconsciously reaching out to where your warmth still lingers on the other side of the bed. Just like that, he chose to surrender everything to sleep. It’ll be easier that way. He can wake up again and start over, convince himself that you were never here in the first place.

It’s morning again. Haitani Rindou finds himself awake before his alarm rings. It’s a routine to stay in bed for a while, contemplating about life all the while gathering the will to get up. The ceiling looks a bit higher, the room a little wider. He’ll get ready soon, roaming around the space, finding nothing foreign or out of place in his apartment.

In five more hours he’ll find himself done with his paperwork and in five more, he’ll be sitting in a booth in a crowded club surrounded by his coworkers. He’ll excuse himself. Someone will offer him a cigarette outside but he’ll refuse. He’ll hesitate before shooting you a text.

A cycle, but you'll never come back to him. 

“Aren’t you going to wake up?”

Rindou opened his eyes to your question. He scanned the room to find your figure sitting on the couch, where your coat is still draped on one side.

“The tea’s gonna get cold, you know.”

He stared at you. He kept staring at you as if you’re going to vanish into thin air. 

“Rindou.” You worriedly called, since he had been unmoving for at least a whole minute.

“Right.” He snapped himself back to reality and hurried to where you are.

There are two brands of tea that he keeps in his pantry: one that he can’t stand but you love to death and the other he likes but you completely hate. He knows you know about this simple fact. He wants to believe you know what it means. Yet you did not comment on it as he makes himself comfortable on the couch, and there was no word spoken between the both of you as he took a sip from his own cup.

You caught him off guard when you laid your head on his shoulder. He wished he had woken up sooner to cook you something, be the one who prepared the tea for you instead.

If it's a cycle, surely you'll come back someday, right? 

But he knows exactly what it means to let you go. It's a cycle of him being so stubborn and fooling himself every fucking time. You never actually left. It was just stalling time before you really go and leave him to his own misery and never come back to save him from despair.

He braved himself before asking, “When’s your flight?”

A second dragged on like an eternity with him being imprisoned in his own thoughts.

“There’s no flight.”

Water trickles down the tap, hitting the surface of the sink below. He'd die for you. He'd kill for you. He'd spend the next five hours mourning over your absence and then he'd go on a spree somewhere just so you'd see his face displayed everywhere across the country. Oh but you won't be in the country anymore, will you? He won't even be able to reach you. 

"What?"

When it's daytime again, he'll be too scared to realize that not all people are replaceable. Some leave a stain too vivid to bend a lifetime into a cycle of grieving.

“There's no flight, Rin.” You repeated.

Now he knows about this simple fact. You want to believe he knows what it means.

“Okay.” He said after a long while. It was all he could manage to voice out.

“Okay.” You echoed, because there’s nothing else to say.

Silence stretched on for a while. The clock ticks by, listing the things that are returned to him by the second: peace, his hope, his sanity. You? you. you. you.

“You’ll stay?” He asked, breathless. He needed to hear it from you.

“Make me.”

Haitani Rindou will find himself awake before you like he always does. He will stay still despite his arm going numb because he doesn’t want to wake you up. His hand will shield you from the bright city lights. And when you wake up, he will say “good morning” or “good night”. It'll be eventide; he'll decide later. It'll be okay.

You’ll place a hand on his cheek like you usually do, but you won’t leave. 

© 2022 katsutora ; do not repost and/or translate and/or claim my works

[sciencelings-writes]

Ceraunomancy- Parental Instincts feat. Time and Urbosa

Oneshot for my champions-possessing-Wild AU,

Ao3 Link

WC: 1437

Warnings: Canon typical violence, facial injury 

Time could say, without so much as a second of consideration, that he really didn’t like being ambushed by monsters. When he was younger and more fresh from his adventures he had simply gotten used to having to be constantly ready for a fight. Now he was older and any deviation from the routine was an absolute chore. Rarely much of a problem, but certainly annoying.

It was a situation that the chain found themselves in often, this time they were just trying to travel to a nearby town. They were so close to getting there without any incidents… But of course, the hero's spirit never came with an awful lot of luck.

Four and Wind were tag-teaming a corrupted moblin, one of the massive round ones from Sky’s time. Warriors was taking down bokoblins left and right, though many of them kept getting back up and trying again. Time could tell it was starting to irritate the knight. Sky and Twilight were dueling their own pair of moblins while Legend and Hyrule respectively kept the other monsters away from their occupied brothers.

Wild shot arrows from Epona’s back, weaving between and jumping over enemies. With the horse's speed and Wild’s accuracy with the bow, he was successfully thinning out the herds. Or at least he would be, but he was having the same problem as Warriors. Unless they were completely dismembered, the monsters kept standing back up to continue their fight. With their enhanced resilience, Wild was losing arrows faster than it was worth.

Across from Time, however, was a twilight-era darknut. A shadowy suit of armor that was rather difficult to damage, wielding a massive blade that rivaled even the biggoron sword. Though his sword proved itself to be useful in removing his opponent's thick armor, revealing the chainmail underneath.

For all the jokes about his age, Time wasn’t slow. Sure, he was faster when he was younger, and before he preferred armor that definitely restricted his movement, but even now, he was not slow. He dodged tremendous swings of the giant's sword with practiced ease. His blade meeting the darknuts swift swings head-on as if he was just dueling one of Zelda’s knights. Though perhaps it was a more accurate comparison to take into account the drastic height difference and change the analogy to dueling one of Zelda’s full-grown knights when he was nine.

Piece by piece, the darknuts armor fell to the dirt ground while he narrowly dodged blows that he knew would be devastating if they connected. At one point its blade simply brushed the armor on his chest and he knew instantly that it would leave a dramatic bruise. It was really a miracle that he didn’t topple over like a bowling pin. Every once in a while an electric arrow from Wild’s volley would stun the dark soldier long enough for Time to get several hits in. Unfortunately, he never had a moment to spare to give the boy a thumbs up in gratitude.

With one final blow from Time’s legendary claymore, the phantom's last piece of armor was thrown into the air, bouncing off of a bokoblins head on its way to the ground. The darknut didn’t seem to like this advancement in the fight very much, as it hurled its large sword vaguely in Time’s direction. At first, he thought it just had terrible aim, but he followed its trajectory and discovered it was quite the opposite.

“Wild!” Time tried to warn the horse-riding archer, but it was too late for him to react much more than pushing Epona’s head out of the way of the flying weapon. Before Time could blink, Wild was sent rocketing off of the horse’s back, hitting a tree with a thunderous crack. His body tumbling limply to the grass.

His distraction nearly cost him though, the darknuts new thin sword was embedded in Twilight’s wooden ordonian shield when he turned back to the enemy.

Time wanted to urge his protege to check on his own protege, to call for Hyrule for the suspected medical emergency, to run to the boy himself, but he was interrupted by a strange voice.

“That’s some nerve for a glorified suit of armor.” It was Wild’s voice coupled with a distinctly new one. A thundering feminine voice with a slightly familiar accent. Time risked a glance toward the tree the champion had been thrown against only to see him standing with blood dripping down an obviously broken nose.

His once bright blue eyes were suddenly a vibrant emerald that shined with an intensity that wasn’t common with the teen normally, even during fights. Even more unsettling though, was the bloody smile that was etched smugly into his features. The old man had never seen the boy grin while still looking absolutely furious.

A tiny arc of electricity lit up the space between the champion's weaponless fingers. Time couldn’t help but feel a little afraid of his young companion.

Wild ignored the blade embedded in the tree behind him when normally the young man proved to be incredibly resourceful, but not this time. Even without a weapon in his hands, he was a terrifying sight. A protective snarl had replaced his unhinged smile, he stared down his enemy with a fury that even Time could feel the heat of despite being a dozen feet away.

“Shit, we need to get out of her way…” Twilight grumbled as he thrust his shield out to bounce his opponent's sword and its balance off kelter.

Time spared a moment to flick his eye up at the sky after the battlefield darkened dramatically, when once there was a clear but slowly dimming atmosphere, there was now the beginning of a spontaneous storm. A flicker of lightning traveled among festering shadowy clouds before a long grumble of barely contained thunder. The speed of the onset of tempest reminded him of what happened when he played the song of storms, the air churned with the champion's rage, and the temperature noticeably dropped.

“You might want to keep your distance old man, you’re dressed just like a lightning rod.” His successor’s voice brought him back to the urgency of his situation. They were still on a battlefield, even if he could feel his hair standing on end from the energizing air.

A couple of bokoblins tried to take advantage of his momentary lack of focus, but their screeching battle cry gave them away. Before he was able to swipe them away with his sword, an ear-shattering crash shook the ground, sending the smaller monsters stumbling backward, many bouncing uselessly against the ground with startled cries of outrage. Out of the corner of his eye, he confirmed that it wasn’t just the monsters having trouble with the rumbling, if it wasn’t for Four, Wind would’ve tumbled with a handful of bokoblins.

The armorless darknut Twilight had been fighting had been reduced to a scorch mark on the dirt, the cause of its demise stood several feet away from it, his arm still raised in the aftermath of a snap, a wisp of smoke rolling off of his fingers.

“Don’t touch my kid.” The woman's voice spat from Wild’s mouth, before he seemed to remember the battle around him. He positioned his hand to snap again, but this time, instead of a single focused strike of fury, the lightning arched around him in a wide circle, narrowly avoiding his allies while violently stunning his enemies.

Everyone left unzapped took the opportunity to destroy the rest of the monsters, leaving a field of dark violet smoke and the sour stench of inky black blood and ash.

The champion didn’t waste his time reveling in the defeat of the monsters, this time when Time looked, the boy had his hand clasped over his broken nose, but before he could shout a warning, the bone fragments were snapped back together with a painful-sounding crunch, not even a whimper escaping Wild’s pursed lips. Once he was finished, those vivid green eyes opened and slowly scanned the smoldering valley, before settling definitively on Time.

“Sav’orq heroes.” The champion nodded briefly before the emerald green faded into something more akin to the color of seawater. The lingering spite at the darknut faded along with it, leaving Wild attempting to stem the bleeding from his nose with his wrist, wincing when he made the gentlest of contact with the cartilage.

“Sorry,” Wild said, his voice returned to normal when he realized all the eyes drawn to him. “Urbosa gets a little overprotective sometimes…”

Time couldn’t find words for a rebuttal other than…

“You think?”

[scriveyner]

then they begin: 14 (2022)

then they begin: 15/36 wc: 1437 rated: M

Jan. 16th

Breakfast was a silent affair, at least until Gotou looked up at Masayoshi with a frown, and said, “if you try to put a collar on me, I will make you regret it.”

Masayoshi frowned, unable to stifle the third yawn that had crept through in the last few minutes. “I didn’t say anything,” he said and figured that if Gotou had telepathy too he definitely would have strangled Masayoshi long before today.

Gotou gave him a long look before he picked up his bowl of rice. “I could feel you thinking it.”

He had found Masayoshi very late (or, very early depending on whose clock you were going by), seated on the swings in the park by his apartment. Masayoshi had been dozing off upright, and almost went over backward when Gotou butted Masayoshi’s knee with his head.

“It’s dangerous!” Gotou yelled as soon as he shifted back, naked and fuming in the center of the apartment. “What if he’d found you, what if he’d hurt you—!?”

Masayoshi was really beginning to hate that word. “It’s no more dangerous for me than it is for anyone else walking around at night,” Masayoshi snapped back; and he saw something cross Gotou’s face that he didn’t understand, couldn’t ask about because he didn’t know. Gotou snarled—inhuman-sounding still, it made the hair on the back of Masayoshi’s neck stand on end—and then Gotou stormed out of the room, the bathroom door slamming behind him.

The shower seemed to calm him down at least, because he was far less prickly when he emerged, in clean if slightly rumpled clothes and toweling his head off. Masayoshi was exhausted through, but Gotou seemed fresh, as if he had slept the night instead of roaming the city. “Don’t you need to sleep?” Masayoshi groaned, elbow on the table, breakfast laid out before him.

Gotou shook his head, already working on his own food. “Not really, no. I’m pretty used to it.”

“Efficient,” Masayoshi muttered. He rubbed his jaw with one hand. “I don’t get why you’re so worried,” he said finally. “And if you know who this werewolf is, why won’t you tell me about him?”

Gotou’s chopsticks paused. “I’m not certain it’s him,” he said finally, refusing to make eye contact with Masayoshi. “I thought for sure he was dead.”

Masayoshi’s head darted up, focused on Gotou but he still hadn’t looked up from his bowl. Sensing Masayoshi’s eyes on him, he sighed and put his bowl and chopsticks down. “It was a long time ago, ‘yoshi. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Is he the wolf who turned you?” Masayoshi asked, but Gotou shook his head.

“No. I’ve never met that wolf again.” Gotou stood and picked up Masayoshi’s mostly untouched dishes. “You’re exhausted, Masayoshi. You should really get some rest.”

Masayoshi eyed him. “Are you coming to bed too?”

“As much fun as that invitation sounds, I have to…” Gotou paused, and then shuffled the dishes in his arms so he could tap his nose. “I need to use this, while I have it. He can’t stir up that much trouble in the daytime.”

As Gotou retreated into the kitchen to clear the dishes and put them in the sink, Masayoshi got to his feet, pushing through the exhaustion as he had too many times to count in the past. “Then I’m coming with you,” he announced and walked into the kitchen behind Gotou.

Gotou doused the dishes in the sink, turned around, and ducked under a startled Masayoshi’s arm, scooping him up in a sudden quick move and tossing him over his shoulder. Masayoshi barely had time to blink, let alone fight back, before Gotou deposited him on the bed. “You,” Gotou said firmly, “are getting some sleep.”

Masayoshi glowered at him, but couldn’t stifle another yawn. “Gotou-san is mean,” he said, and Gotou put a knee on the mattress, beside Masayoshi’s thigh, and loomed over him. Then he touched Masayoshi’s jaw, their noses brushing, and kissed him gently.

“Sleep,” Gotou commanded, and Masayoshi closed his eyes and sighed in resignation.

#

The morning brought with it sunlight, devastatingly bright and strangely surreal after the long and heavy rain. Birdsong filled the trees and when Gotou surfaced in the frigid lake water he realized that he wasn’t alone.

The man sat on an outcropping of frock, where Gotou had left his clothes to bathe, and was watching him with a laid-back expression. “So, you survived the night,” he said, as Gotou sank in the water, eyes locked on this new, potential threat. “I’m impressed, little cub.”

“This isn’t my first time,” Gotou was exposed and vulnerable in the lake. He had no weapons with him, no means of defense—he had never expected to encounter anyone on these trips, he purposely went out in the middle of nowhere. The man laughed at him, and Gotou’s blood boiled, hackles raising.

“No, I could tell that much, at least.” The man cocked his head, golden hair falling across one eye—and Gotou saw one of the wolves from the previous night, golden eyes like twin suns. He didn’t relax. “But you’re still a foundling to us. Where is your sire?”

He didn’t like that word, or the way it weighed him down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gotou said.

“Who bit you, cub?” The man sighed, clearly put out by Gotou’s obliviousness.

“Don’t call me that,” Gotou snarled. “I don’t know what monster bit me but when I find them, I’ll kill them myself.” Deep breath, eyes still locked on the stranger but senses on high alert for the others, who had to be out there too. “Just like I’ll kill you, if you don’t leave me in peace.”

The man let out a small laugh and got to his feet slowly, hair and eyes both glimmering in the sunlight, strange and ethereal. He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I’ll ignore that once because you’re young. Come find us, when you’re ready, and I’ll show you how to truly live.”

#

There hadn’t been an attack the previous night. Gotou sighed in relief, scrolling through news websites on his phone as he sat alone against the window in the coffee shop. The morning crush of commuters brought with it a cacophony of sound and scent; all things that he had learned to filter out, over time.

He hadn’t encountered that scent again, same-but-different, and while it could all just be a really weird coincidence, there was no way to tell if the moon-song from the previous night came from the same wolf or yet another different one; it had been too distant to distinguish voice.

Gotou didn’t really believe in coincidences anyway. Not anymore.

Tonight, was the apex moon. The blooded moon. The night that brought out all the wolves regardless of their blood; the one night he tried the hardest to keep himself away from Masayoshi. He was better, now—now that he allowed himself to touch Masayoshi he didn’t fear losing what little control he had. It led to different fears, of course…the fear of losing him, the fear of the fact that whenever he allowed himself to relax, to have something nice for himself that it would be snatched away from him as coldly and without explanation as she was…

On cue, his cell phone buzzed.

Gotou glanced down at the notification in surprise. She hadn’t contacted him in weeks, now—better all the same, although he did miss her advice—but this did not come from the familiar mail address. In fact, this address had been scrambled, likely spoofed—and all the hair along the back of Gotou’s neck went up as the video downloaded.

It was a wolf, fur patterned golden and white, familiar in a way he’d barely thought about in years. She was sprawled on her side across the cold concrete of a warehouse floor, throat torn open and blood staining the delicate fur, breathing shallow and stuttered until it rattled to a stop. The video ended just as the wolf began to lose its form, golden fur becoming familiar brown hair.

Gotou’s entire being ran cold.

Who is this? He sent the mail with trembling fingers.

It came right back, bounced from the server as undeliverable.

#

“The second moon, the apex—that is for song,” he said, leaning back and staring above them at the sky through the trees. “For celebration, for all wolves are born anew on the second night, bathed under the brightest, purest light of the full moon.”

<< Part 13 || Start || Part 15 >>

[corvvii]

pieces (1/2)

wc: 1437 (of ?)

in which leon “chases leads” that maybe he’d rather not. 

“you're so tired trying to rewind the mess you've made of your own mind”

“So, what’s it this time?”

“Work.”

“—Ah. Always work with you, i’n’it.”

Leonnaux pressed himself a little further into the shadows of the covered wagon, pulling a bit of loose fabric from his scarf up over his nose and mouth. The crates around him rattled around a bit thanks to the rough roads. In fact, he figured, they could barely be called roads at all: more like routes that were only kept free of low patches of brush and overgrowth thanks to the high traffic. Wagons, caravans, adventurers and other travelers both on foot and on chocobo-back.

“There’s always work to be done.”

“Not usually up in the Black Shroud, though.”

He looked up, then. The driver of the wagon—a Dunesfolk with white hair and a somewhat hunched back in his comfortable age—didn’t even look over his shoulder at the Duskwight, both hands still firmly wrapped around the reigns of both the chobobos that drew his wagon of wares ever-closer to their destination at Gridanian markets. And Leonnaux let out a sigh.

“Nosy as ever, aren’t you, Ririsifo.”

“You say that as if keeping me in the loop hasn’t saved your sorry arse constantly.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m just following up on some leads, making sure that they’re still good. I’m not going to get in too deep this time. I promise.”

“You swivin’ better. You still owe Ji and I a round.”

“I know, I know. You can stop nagging me about it any day now.”

“I’ll stop nagging you about it when we get it. Or are you afraid you’ll lose?” Ririsifo laughed a bit, though he was cut off when the wagon ran over a bump in the road. “—Oof! Gah, swivin’ ruts. Anything break back there?” He finally glanced over his shoulder then.

“Not that I can see.”

“Good. Now, then. I’m only staying in Gridania for three nights and then I’ve got to get back home. If you’re keen on hitching a ride back with me, then you’re gonna have to get your work done before then, hear?”

“I doubt I’ll even need that.”

Leonnaux didn’t like to make a habit of lying to the man who was the reason why he didn’t starve within a week of arriving in Ul’dah, but he wasn’t quite comfortable divulging the actual reasons for his trip to Gridania.

It’d been years since he walked the paths that wove through the city, but he still remembered all the little twists and turns—the little shortcuts and the little corners he’d used and frequented years ago. If he tried, he could probably find his way back home—

But he shook his head at the thought—

And let out a sigh.

He didn’t mind the forest so much, but the city set him on edge. It was familiar, yes, and in that he found comfort. But that familiarity was a double-edged sword that dredged up bad memories of worse times: of when his mother would send him out to market because he was the only member of the household that wouldn’t face harassment based on their heritage, of returning home one winter evening to find his brother using his notes as kindling.

‘He…’

Leonnaux swallowed the knot that formed in his throat, balled his hands into fists, and kept walking. Ardun had done him the favor of using his connections to the Adders to find his brother after all these years; it was the least that he could do to follow up. He wouldn’t let his friend’s efforts go wasted, even if Leonnaux still wasn’t sure that he’d like whatever he found when he finally did see his brother again. Actually—he wasn’t even sure what he’d see, specifically. He knew that these days, his brother was part of the Gods’ Quiver—though which part, Leonnaux wasn’t sure. Figuring out what unit he was part of was one obstacle of many, though; just figuring that out wouldn’t tell Leonnaux where he was stationed or if he was out in the field at all. Questions without answers rattled around in Leonnaux’s head, drove him mad—if there was anything he hated, it was not knowing.

But there was only one way to find out.

He could feel his heart pounding as he made his way to the Quiver’s Hold. He could feel his hands shake as he buried them into the mass of fabric draped around his neck and shoulders as a scarf, and he made a point of keeping his head down. Thankfully, none of the archers stationed outside the building proper paid him much mind: one hyur watched him go inside for a moment, but the attention was short-lived.

“Afternoon, ser. Recruit?” There was a perky young Keeper at the reception desk this morning with blue-ish skin and bright blue eyes. Her ears lifted and her eyes lit up as he approached; Leonnaux figured that his appearance was probably one of the more exciting things to happen to her today, since it seemed like otherwise she would have been tasked with oiling bowstrings and examining a new shipment of arrows for the members of the guild and the Gods’ Quiver.

But he shook his head. “Um… No, I’m actually not very good with a bow.” She opened her mouth to respond to him, but he cut her off by continuing: “Or learning. It’s fine, really; I’m—a mage. I was actually hoping I might find someone here.”

“Oh. Well, I can me’bbe help with that. Er, may-be. Sorry, I’m working onnat. On-that. You got a name?”

“Well—my name’s Leonnaux, and uh—I was wondering—if you would point me in the direction of a… Luxont Declurais.”

“Oh, Declurais? You’re in luck; he just got to the Hold a bit ago! He should be around here somewhere; you want me to fetch him for you?”

Leonnaux tilted his head to the side and brought one hand up to cover an ear when her voice went up about an octave in her eagerness to be helpful, transforming her already high-pitched mewling into squeaks. “Um… If he’s not busy. I can wait—elsewhere—if he’s occupied, or—I can always come back another—time.”

But she’d already darted off by the time he’d finished speaking.

He couldn’t have been waiting more than five minutes, sitting awkwardly on a bench off to the side. But that was still enough time for the bile to churn in his belly and threaten to rise in his throat. Oh, did he ever feel ill. Once or twice, he actually got up, considered stepping outside to vomit in the bushes and, well, just take whatever repercussions followed from that since that tended to be frowned upon. But he managed to keep it down, instead occupying his thoughts with his hands. He twisted and manipulated his scarf in more ways than he’d been aware he knew how: wrapping and unwrapping and rewrapping and untying and retying it around his neck. It was just laying over his shoulders when he heard his name, though—in an all-too-familiar voice.

“Leonnaux? By—by the Matron’s graces, it’s you, isn’t it?”

He lifted his head to meet Luxont’s eyes.

Luxont had always been the taller of the two, and the more obviously-Duskwight of the two as well. Where Leonnaux had a bit more color in his features and could generally pass himself off as a Wildwood if he had to, Luxont definitely couldn’t: he, like their mother, was gray (albiet with ruddy-brown undertones). He still wore his black hair long, though where before he would have worn it loose, it was now pulled back in a low ponytail with a white ribbon. A longbow was slung across his chest and a quiver of arrows was slung over his shoulder. At a glance, there was very little resemblance between them, but as Leonnaux rose and took a few slow, tentative steps toward him, some similarities became apparent: they were both lithe (although Luxont was more athletic), they both set their jaw in the same way when they were nervous, and they both averted their eyes in the exact same way for the exact same reasons.

“Yeah. It is.” Leonnaux paused for a long moment, took a breath before continuing: “I’m glad—you’re doing alright. Did you—want to catch up?”

In response, Luxont lifted his hands to place them on Leonnaux’s shoulders. The younger of the two couldn’t help but wince at the gesture, neither expecting nor quite sure what to make of the affection. “I’ll make dinner.”

[sadatabuk-blog]

صدى تبوك - متابعة أصدرت جامعة تبوك فيديو تعريفي يُوضّح خطوات التسجيل وتثبيت القبول للطلبة المستجدين عبر بوابة جامعة تبوك، حيث تم التنويه في بداية الفيديو بعدد من التعليمات و المحاذير أهمها وجوب استخدام الكومبيوتر الشخصي أثناء تقديم الطلب وتجنب استخدام الأجهزة اللوحية و الهواتف الذكية. ويوضح الفيديو شرحا لطريقة تسجيل الطلب خطوة بخطوة من بداية الدخول إلى البوابة الإلكترونية لجامعة تبوك إلى الإنتهاء و الحصول على رقم الطلب و رقم السجل المدني وكلمة السر، ونوّه على طباعة تلك البيانات و الضغط في النهاية على إنهاء لتصل بعدها رسالة على رقم جوال المتقدم تُفيد باكتمال إرسال الطلب. الجدير بالذكر أن جامعة تبوك كانت قد أعلنت عن مواعيد القبول والتسجيل في مرحلة البكالوريوس -انتظام- ومرحلة الدبلوم -البرامج التأهيلية- للفصل الدراسي الأول للعام الجامعي 1437/1438هـ والتي ستكون اعتبارا من تاريخ ١٦ شوال ١٤٣٨ حتى ٢٦ شوال من الشهر الجاري وسيكون تاريخ اعلان نتائج الترشيح بتاريخ ١٤٣٨/١١/٧ وسيكون بدء فترة تثبيت الطلاب لنتائج ترشيحهم ١٤٣٨/١١/٧هـ، وتنتهي بتاريخ ١٤٣٨/١١/١١هـ. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WC-i09SPxhQ&feature=youtu.be . #تبوك #تبوك_الان #منطقه_تبوك #تيماء #ضباء #حقل #املج #الوجه #صدى_تبوك #اخبار_تبوك #البدع #جامعة_تبوك