#again by making it rain Constantly. his sunlight was stolen from him and so he has stolen everyone elses until its returned.
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the thing I'm eternally undecided about is When does that dragon thing start? Like does it start with Tahir and his willful sacrifice and the ensuing relationship with Daeodon before Tahir's death, and then transition into Twohir and his quest to kill the fucking dragon who's dead lover he's the incarnation of and the Mess that is them trying to figure Their shit our while trying to resurrect Tahir.
Or do I just start with Twohir? Theres more drama and more Story to them beyond the growing pains of a new relationship. but also Tahir is my baby boy and i don't want to relegate him to backstory, and a Lot of Daeodon's vibes just Don't work without the explicit context that his words and his feelings or motivations don't always line up.
Like, without Tahir and the way the two interacted it's Way too easy to assume Daeodon made it rain endlessly for the same reason he stopped the rains entirely years ago. That his only motivation for ruining lives and destroying the forest he's lord and god of is that something was taken away from him and he doesn't care What that thing was, just that it was taken. Because this time around he really does care that it was Tahir specifically he lost.
But leaving Tahir as backstory would also make Daeodon having a heart be more of a reveal? More something Twohir and the reader discover together. But it also make Daeodon way fucking creepier.
Daeodon spends the first handful of interactions he has with Twohir (not including the one where Daeodon broke Twohir's arm) being fucking Weird. Twohir is Tahir's reincarnation, and while the two are Wildly different people, there's situations where it's too easy for Daeodon to just Pretend for a moment. And from Twohir's perspective, the fucking dragon he wants dead and to never be near him again because he considers his fucked up life partially Daeodon's fault, is constantly trying to get close to him and abuse Twohir's willingness to drink at parties and miss the little clues that would give Daeodon in his faunsona away. It's creep behavior. Even with context it's absolutely unacceptable, But with all that context and the reader already having a good insight on who Daeodon is as a person, it's creep behavior that Feels more tragic than disgusting.
But Tahir's side of the story isn't short. It's not something that can just go in a prologue, and it's not at All the same genre as Twohir's. so having the two halves butted up against each other doesn't Feel right.
like tldr: Tahir is my very special boy but how he fucked a dragon and became a love god is kinda boring compared to how his reincation fucked the same dragon, resurrected Tahir, and then also became a love god.
#Like tahirs Entire plot is:#Meets and bangs a mysterious guy at a handful of festivals. the guy only ever shows up at the festivals and pays special attention to Tahir#The dragon god of the forest throws a hissy fit about some mcguffin getting stolen from him and demands it returned. and casts the forest#into a drought until the item is returned or something of equal or greater value in his eyes value is given to him.#Eventually the drought has slogged on for so long the people are desperate and decide a person is the only thing left for them to attempt#sacrificing. Nobody Wants to do that but its the only hope they have. Tahir volunteers bc he loves his community enough to do That.#Hes sorta married off to the dragon god in a whole ceremony. With the hope being that the god wouldn't eat his own bride or would at least#be quick about it if he did.#Anyways Tahir goes to the dragon and surprise its that guy.#they have a fun scene where Tahir. for obvious reasons. does not believe the Guy to be the dragon and demands he probe it#the guy does. Shenanigans happen and over the years the people of the forest begin to treat tahir as a deity in his own right#and that belief does start giving him some actual powers n stuff. and its great hes a love god and his wedding day is a celebrated holiday#and then he dies. Defending Daeodon. and that makes Daeodon very :( and so he honors Tahir's last wish of never taking the rain away#again by making it rain Constantly. his sunlight was stolen from him and so he has stolen everyone elses until its returned.#yadda yadda yadda. Twohir is here now
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A Hoard of Hatred || Muse Dislikes
Stolen from: @brooklynislandgirl because i forgot i was gonna steal it the other day
Stolen by: You and you
muse name: John Mactavish
least favourite nickname: Johnny. It feels too intimate, familial, and in a job where any of that could literally be wiped with one well placed bullet it’s also a worry. Only two people are allowed to call him Johnny: Ghost, for obvious unspoken respect and other miscellaneous reasons between the two of them, and Price, because saving Soap from falling out of a helicopter and plummeting to his death on his first job means that’s he’s legally allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants to the sergeant until the end of time.
least favourite season: Summer. He's still pretty sure whoever decided that no house in the UK should have means to deal with the Summer should suffer for an eternity.
least favourite: hot or cold? Hot. He's a good ol' Scottish boy, weather's not exactly something he was ever prepared for beyond cold, mild, rain, and the occasional surprising amount of sunlight. Needless to say his first deployment to Urzikstan was... interesting.
least favourite holiday: No real outright least favorite, but Christmas is getting up there with how many times he could count having been home for it on one hand.
least favourite food: Smoked haddock.
least favourite flavour: Again, smoked haddock but generally smoked fish. It's just never been his jazz.
least favourite drink: Bourbon isn't whiskey and he will fight about it. Or tease you about it. Probably both.
least favourite scent: Sterilization, rubber, just the general smell of the hospital. But being stuck in and experiencing it he'll bear with since it's a good reminder of being alive.
least favourite sound: Silence.
least favourite TV shows: Monarch of the Glen just reminds him of being bored at grandma's so its like... a spite hatred.
least favourite area of school: Just about anything that required inside time. Soap just really enjoyed PE that much.
least favourite aspect of their job: The death. Sure, it's what he signed up for, but it constantly leaves him with questions like "What could I have done different?" or "What if I was a little stronger?" or "What if I brought one more mag" and so on and so forth.
least favourite trait in others: Power and how you want to abuse it.
least favourite thing to talk about: He doesn't like actually talking about how all fighting, war, terrorism, etc actually affects him. He tries to save it for his journal.
least favourite thing about themselves: Anger, specifically the kind that'll make him do stupid shit like punch a military police officer square in the face.
least favourite daily chore: He used to hate making his bed but basic beat that right out of him.
least favourite type of clothing: Military formal dress.
least favourite superpower: None actually. They all sound pretty freaking cool.
least favourite thing about falling in love: That he's probably not gonna live past 40 and he's not sure if he really wants to put someone through that.
least favourite thing about death: The little what ifs it makes him ask himself.
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Here Comes the Sun (Same Uley x Fem! Reader)
Key:
Y/n - Your Name Y/l/n - Your Last Name
Y/h/c - Your Hair Color Y/e/c - Your Eye Color
Prompt (given to me by @jessicas-underground ): Hi! Could you do one where the reader just moved to Forks from sunny California and hates it there because of the weather. She’s Sam’s imprint and he tries to change her mind about the town.
Reader Gender: Female (She/Her/Hers)
Summary: Forks, Washington is positively dreary, and the Reader hates it-- she misses California, misses the warm sun and the way it didn't constantly rain. But now, because of some supernatural force, she's had to make it her home, and maybe, just maybe, she can find the warmth she so missed in the stubborn werewolf who sleeps in her bed...
Warnings: kind of seasonal depression-y, mostly just fluff.
A/n: idk why my tagging is being all weird, but i'll figure it out. also the line about his smile is the best thing i've ever written...
Word Count: 850+
You’re hiding, scowling, underneath the portico of your home. Your boyfriend Sam Uley stands a few feet in front of you getting absolutely drenched in the downpour, his hand extended to you in silent invitation.
“C’mon…” He says with a smile that brightens his whole face.
It should be considered unlawful, that smile of his. Rare and completely reserved for you, it only seems to come up when he needs to sway you in his favor-- because how can you say no to that smile?
“You’re crazy.” You mutter matter-of-factly, placing your hand in his.
“Only for you, baby.” The cheeky bastard lifts your hands to his lips and kisses you on the knuckles as if he didn’t know he’d win.
Rolling your eyes, you step out from beneath your protection. The rain quickly engulfs you, rolling off your jacket and soaking your head; Sam sees the way you wince, your nose wrinkling at the feeling, and has the audacity to laugh.
Hand in hand, you and your wolf run to his truck. Water kicks up underneath your feet and splashes up your legs, effectively chilling you to your core; you practically rip the door of the truck open, clambering in and rubbing your arms to warm up. Sam watches you adoringly, turning up the heater even if he really doesn’t need it.
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It stops raining by the time Sam parks the car on the side of the road, finally arriving wherever he wants to go. All of it looks the same to you— alive and green and wet— but it must be special to him because there’s a strange, childlike excitement in his eyes.
“I told you I knew it would be fine.” He says, closing your door after you.
“Being a shapeshifter doesn’t come with weather-telling abilities— you guessed.”
He rolls his eyes half-heartedly and takes your hand, helping you over the road barrier.
“It was an educated guess.”
“Still a guess.”
The ground is soft and squishy under your feet as you start to walk deeper into the trees. Sam purses his lips at you, but doesn’t say anything more; for a short while, there’s no sound but the sounds of nature and your panting from the exertion.
“Just a few more steps-- and here we are!”
He sweeps his hand out and your eyes follow it. In front of you is a large clearing in the trees, a hilly plot of land absolutely blanketed by tiny purple flowers; they only come up to your ankles and they fill the air with a sweet aroma.
It’s a breathtaking sight.
“Woah-- Sam... “ Your words are stolen from you, and he’s smiling again.
“Pretty isn’t it?” Pretty is an understatement. “Ever seen anything like it?”
You can only shake your head.
Sam launches into a long talk about the field. He talks about the flowers and the grass and beautiful things. He’s looking at the field. You’re looking at him.
──────────────────
“Hey, babe!”
Begrudgingly getting off the couch, wrapped up in a thick woolen thing Sue Clearwater gave you, you trek onto the porch to find your wolf. He’s sitting on the steps, listening to his radio-- shirtless, somehow.
“What’s up?” You lean on the doorframe, wrapping your arms around yourself.
He turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed.
“They say it’s been a solid ninety all week where you’re from.” Sam says it as if it’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard.
You want to say ‘your body runs hotter than that’ but you don’t, all you do is snort and smile.
“It gets way hotter in Death Valley.”
You sit with him, tucked under his arm, and he listens happily to your explanation.
──────────────────
The boys help keep your mind off things. Cooking and cleaning give you something to do, and they’re always nice and goofy and just an overall good time.
Sam still worries. Of course, he does.
──────────────────
Slowly, more and more, you start leaving the house.
One of your boys is always with you, but it’s an accomplishment nevertheless.
──────────────────
The sand at First Beach is soft on your feet-- and almost dry.
Sam’s holding your hand, half dragging you down to the little fire pit that’d been set up and the excited werewolves bustling about. Half of them are playing soccer off to the side, half were trying to figure out the fire; when Kim sees you both, she waves.
“Hey, guys!”
You’re swarmed as soon as you put down the coolers with food, given brisk ‘thank you’s and side hugs that make you laugh.
“I’m starting to think that they only want me for one thing…” Kim laughs at your comment as you sit next to her.
“Starting?”
Sam immediately joins the boys, completely in his element as he kicks a ball around with his pack.
A big part of you chronically misses California; it misses the warm, dry air and the constant sunlight. That part hates Washington more than anything.
But a bigger part of you is in love with Sam Uley.
He smiles bright and he's warm. He can be your sun, he has the capacity.
#sam uley x reader#sam uley imagine#sam uley#twilight wolf imagines#twilight wolf pack#twilight imagine#twilight saga#jared cameron#paul lahote#embry call#jacob black#quil ateara
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She Will Be Loved.
Summary: No reason to stay is a good reason to go.
Pairing: Dean x Female Reader
Word Count: 2,040
Warnings: Mentions of character death
Enjoy!
Here is the song the title came from.
A/N: This is literally something that I’ve had floating in my head for months...Nothing special but enjoy!
I don't mind spendin' everyday,
Out on your corner in the pourin' rain.
Look for the girl with the broken smile,
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile.
And she will be loved.
Dean Winchester was problematic. Not only in the sense that trouble seemed to follow him, but also in the sense that he caused problems for those around him too. That included her even though they had never met. He could see it every day. He could see the internal struggle that she faced. She didn’t know what caused the tears in the early mornings. She didn’t know what caused the breakdowns in the late hours of the night, but Dean did. You see, everyone has a soulmate. Dean knew it was hard to believe but it was true. She was his soulmate. There was only one slight problem, he was dead and she was alive.
Dean could remember the whole scenario as if it happened yesterday. He and Sam were on a hunt. They were hot on the trail of a pack of vampires and Dean was sure this would be a big win they had been looking for. The next thing Dean knew though, he was in and out of consciousness in the passenger seat of the Impala. Sam’s voice was the only thing he could really hear and he looked down at his hands that were covered in blood.
“Hey, stay with me, okay?” The younger Winchester said, his voice trembling with fear of losing his older brother. “Just stay with me, Dean.”
And then it all went black. It all clicked out like when you turn the lights off in a windowless room. There was nothing. Then, there was light. There was a bright light and Dean felt himself shielding his eyes from it with his hand. In the light, he began to make out shapes. He could see someone moving around as he took a few steps forward. The brightness in the room dimmed to a normal amount of light and Dean moved his hand to get a better look at where he was. Where the hell was he? He was standing in the corner of a room that he didn’t recognize at all, looking at a girl that he also didn’t recognize. The light in the room was dim with only sunlight flooding through the window on the far wall. The girl sat on the window ledge, gazing out the glass at the rain outside. In one hand, she had a cup filled with coffee and in the other she had her phone.
“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I can’t explain it. I just, can’t stop crying.”
Dean tried to make out what the person on the other line was saying but he couldn’t. This had to be the doings of a trickster. Dean was sure of it.
“Hello Dean.” A familiar voice said and the older Winchester whipped his head around to see Castiel standing behind him.
“Cas,” He said in an exasperated voice, “Thank god you’re here. What the hell is going on? How do I-,”
“You’re gone, Dean.” The angel said, looking away from the man in front of him as if he would break down just thinking about it.
“Gone? What do you mean? You wanna elaborate?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at the angel.
“Gone,” Cas stated again. “Gone for good. Deceased.”
Dean felt his heart drop and his shoulders sag as the news landed on them like a weight. He was dead? Where the hell was he then if he was dead? This sure wasn’t hell and why would a woman he had never met be in his heaven?
“Then where the hell am I?” Dean asked and Castiel sighed, looking at the woman who was still sitting in the window.
“This is y/n,” He explained. “She is your soulmate.” Soulmate? What a load of bullshit. There was no such thing as a soulmate and Dean knew it. He scoffed a bit as Castiel told him that and he rolled his eyes. Castiel noticed Dean’s reaction and he sighed as well. “Soulmates are very real, Dean, and Y/N is yours. When one soulmate dies before the other, they act as their guardian angel.”
Dean really rolled his eyes at that one. Dean Winchester a guardian angel? Yeah right.
“Cas come on...You don’t really believe that do you?” Dean started to ask but Castiel was already gone and he was left in the room alone again with the girl. Could she see him? Feel him? Hear him? After trying to get the girl’s attention numerous times and failing miserably with each one he determined that he was practically invisible to her.
So this was his life now? Constantly looking after someone he had no emotional connection with? Lovely.
But that all changed in the following weeks as Dean found himself doing things like watching over her as she slept or finding things that she misplaced and putting them out in the open. This woman that he didn’t even know had stolen his heart and there was nothing he could do about it. She was a hunter as well and Dean found himself watching over her on every hunt, laughing when she would chalk up her victories to “someone watching over her”. After a hunt she would come home, grab a beer from the fridge and turn on her vinyl records and listen to the classic rock play from the speakers. Dean would usually sit in the window and watch her, talking to her every once and a while even if she couldn’t hear him. He did discover that she could feel him on occasion though due to the one time he brushed her shoulder while she was braiding her hair before a hunt. This caused the girl to jump up from her seat in front of the mirror and grab her knife. Dean would brush by her every once and a while but he mostly kept to himself.
This gig went on for years and Dean thought it was near perfect. He had someone. He had a purpose and it was to keep Y/N safe. Sure, it would be nice to actually be there for her but he had no choice. It was a constant struggle even for Dean. He was always there for her though even if she didn’t know it. He was there in the mornings when she made her coffee in the silence of the lonely kitchen. He was there in the afternoons when she was working on her latest case. He was there to dry her tears in the late hours of the evenings. Dean was there for everything and yet there was nothing he could do to make it better. She still didn’t understand the tears that came late at night, but Dean did. They were for him, a man she had never met and never would meet until her time on Earth was up.
But what was Dean supposed to do when he wasn’t needed anymore? That was the question on his mind the night that Y/N left without him for a date. A date? How the hell did she have a date when Dean was her soulmate? It was his job though to watch over her, no matter how upset it made him.
So he waited. He waited for hours, pacing back and forth across the creaky floor of the living room and watching for headlights to shine through the picture window. When they finally did, Dean caught himself looking out the window at a very familiar looking car.
A black 1967 Chevy Impala.
His black 1967 Chevy Impala.
Dean’s heart sank because he knew what was coming next when the lock on the door rattled and Y/N walked in holding hands with none other than Sam Winchester, his younger brother. How could Dean blame his younger brother, though? He had no idea what was going on behind the scenes. Y/N looked happy. She looked genuinely happy as she pulled Sam into a hug after they walked inside. The hug turned into a kiss and the kiss turned into multiple kisses on the couch when Dean decided that it was time he left to go upstairs. Sam also looked genuinely happy which conflicted Dean even more. There was no way he could be angry with either of them.
Dean finally had someone. He had a purpose and that purpose was slowly slipping out of his hands. He sat in the window, looking out at the stars and cursing at himself for getting attached to someone he could never have.
Y/N knew something was missing with Sam. But she felt happier than she ever had before and she would take the small missing piece instead of the large gaping hole that had taken over her heart the past few years.
Dean was there for all of it. He was there for the first date, he was there for the first box that was moved into the house when Sam moved in. Like he said before, how could he be angry? They were happy and Dean had always been known to put other’s happiness over his own.
Questions of his future purpose came into play when questions of Sam and Y/N’s future came up. There were talks of an engagement, a wedding, the start of a family. Dean didn’t want to interfere with any of that. But where was he supposed to go? Heaven? Hell? Wandering the Earth looking for the next person to help? He decided the last option would be what he would pick and he would pray to whoever would listen to give him some guidance.
It wasn’t until the wedding day when he really started to think about where he was going to go. Watching Y/N put the final touches on her hair and put on her wedding dress caused him to get choked up but not for reasons that he should be getting choked up. The tears that flooded his eyes should be happy ones. He should be at the end of that aisle either as the groom or the best man and yet here he was, unable to even make his presence known to the love of his life. The love of his life who was now marrying his younger brother. Dean sniffled and quickly wiped the tears away from his eyes even though no one could see them.
“You look beautiful,” He caught himself whispering, standing behind Y/N at the mirror and looking at their reflection. If only she knew he was there. If only she knew who he was. Dean stretched his arm out, gently touching Y/N’s cheek. She gasped a bit, shocked at the touch and turned around only to look obliviously right through Dean. It shattered his already broken heart even more watching her look around the room for the source of the cold touch and more tears welled up in his eyes before spilling over his cheeks.
That was the moment Dean knew he had to leave. He couldn’t watch her walk down the aisle to his younger brother, he couldn’t watch her have a family with someone who wasn’t him. He would wait though because eventually they would be together and that thought is what kept him going. Was it selfish? Maybe. Did Dean care? Not at all. He would give her space and give her time until they could be together in the afterlife that Dean was forced to live in without her. Again, he felt the tears welling up in his eyes and he knew the ceremony would be starting soon. He had to make his exit soon because he wanted no part in the festivities of the day.
So he left. He left her with simply a kiss on the cheek which caused her to reach up and touch the invisible force that had watched over her for years. Dean would still keep Y/N in his thoughts though. He had no choice. She would think about him too probably without even knowing who he was. The stories that Sam would tell about Dean would keep him in Y/N’s life and that was all that the older Winchester could ask for.
Because even Dean knew that no reason to stay is always a very good reason to go.
#dean winchester#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester imagine#dean fic#dean fanfic#dean fanfiction#dean imagine#spn#supernatural#supernatural fic#spn fic#spn fanfiction#spn imagine#supernatural fanfic#supernatural imagine#dean x reader#dean x reader fic#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x reader fanfic#castiel#cas#sam#sam winchester#sam winchester fic#sam winchester fanfic#sam winchester fanfiction#dean x fem!reader#dean x female reader
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NO, DON’T PUSH US AWAY, HIRO. WE’RE HERE FOR YOU
BIDDI BOPPI BOOP A SPECIAL MESSAGE ADMIN ZULEMA: jill my queen, i know how long you’ve wanted to take up this angel and i’m so happy to finally bestow her to you. your sample for haven was amazing. You know this character inside and out. the love and passion you have translated perfectly into your para and i’m so excited to see what you do with her !! also nag me to finish the cast so i can see cute big hero 6 interactions on the dash lmfao. Please refer to THIS PAGE for your next tasks. We can’t wait to roleplay with you. Welcome to our Ohana xx.
It’s a pleasure to meet you…
Jill, 30, eastern, she/her
My favorite color is purple
My favorite super hero is Kate Bishop/Hawkeye
I’ve seen Parks & Rec so many times I can “watch” the show with my eyes closed
No triggers
Are you positive you can be active?
yes indeed
How did you stumble upon Walt?
we go way back
Did you read the rules?
yup!
Are you sure?
Scuttle
Character you want?
Haven Lemos
Please describe the character for us
When Haven was born, her parents said they could have sworn they gave birth to the sun, so bright and cheerful their little one was. Growing up wasn’t easy for Haven—her family immigrated from Cuba to the United States when she was small. Haven doesn’t remember a life in Cuba, but she knows that everything her parents have done was to secure a better life for their children, and because of that Haven has always admired them.
Haven’s formative years were spent in Miami, Florida, which meant that even though she was away from Cuba, she was able to grow up immersed in her culture even outside of her own home. The older she grew, the more responsibilities fell to Haven, but she took every one of them in stride. With parents that were constantly working to make ends meet, Haven spent much of her free time taking care of her siblings. She may have grown up faster than most kids her age, but Haven never let that get to her. Her optimism and sunny disposition were constant. Haven worked as hard as her parents in every thing she did. She wanted to make them proud and wouldn’t take their sacrifices for granted. One day, Haven hoped to take care of them the way they took care of her.
As a child, most of her peers found her to be strange. Haven has always been quirky and unique, and to top it off she was smart and her favorite subject was science. Most of the other kids couldn’t quite relate—their favorite subject was recess, long after recess stopped being a thing. Haven became one of the top students in science for their school district, and graduated with AP courses in biology, physics, and chemistry (her favorite). To Haven, the logical next stop was the prestigious San Fransokyo Institute of Technology. She wanted to attend the school so desperately, but knew that with her family’s financial situation, it was only a dream. But with a push from her chemistry teacher, Haven’s dreams came true: admission and a full scholarship.
At SFIT, Haven truly came into her own. She was surrounded by students similar to herself, and lucky enough to spend every day learning more about the thing she absolutely loved. Chemistry came naturally to the girl, and it wasn’t long before she was conducting her own experiments, hoping to push the subject to new heights, beyond anything the world already knew. The only thing that made the experience better than she could ever imagine was the group of friends she almost suddenly found herself a part of. She couldn’t imagine how she had managed a life without the four of them. She even had a nickname among the group: Honey Lemon. (You’d have to ask Freddy why.)
It didn’t take long for the crush to develop. Tadashi Hamada was her friend and her equal. How could she not fall in love? The friendship blossomed into a full-on mutual flirtation after the two were paired up for a class project. She loved everyone in their group, but Tadashi easily moved from best friend to boyfriend. Not wanting to disrupt the group dynamic, the duo decided it would be best to keep their relationship quiet for now. The transition started slowly, with stolen kisses when no one else was looking, and much more free time dedicated to simply spending time together. They would lie awake for hours in each other’s dorm rooms, talking about science, their lives, and their futures.
Haven and Tadashi never got the chance to make the possibility of a future between the two of them official. Their junior year, Tadashi helped his brother Hiro enter the SFIT school science fair. Haven had heard so much about Hiro, and the whole group was there to support Tadashi’s younger brother. The kid was only 13, but he may have been the smarted thirteen-year-old Haven had ever known. Even at his young age, Hiro would be a perfect fit at SFIT. When a mysterious fire broke loose at the fair, everything changed. Students, faculty, and visitors all evacuated, and not moments after the last person was out of the building, the whole place exploded. When the smoke cleared in the early hours of the morning, one thing was clear:
Tadashi never made it out of the building.
Haven had never imagined heartbreak to feel this way. A piece of her heart was missing, and Haven was sure it would never feel whole again. How do you move on from such a loss? Whatever Haven felt at the loss of Tadashi, she put on a brave face when around her friends. Haven wasn’t going to stop being the ray of sunlight and optimism she’d always been, for all of them, for herself, and especially for Hiro. The young boy had now lost both his parents and his older brother, and with all the love she had for Tadashi, she was going to look after Hiro as much as she could.
With SFIT destroyed, the students were relocated to Elias. The new location helped Haven move on. She graduated from Walt University with top honors and started working toward building the future she’d talked so often about with Tadashi. Now she’s attending graduate school, working part time in a lab, and working as a teaching assistant in the Walt chemistry department. Tadashi is on her mind constantly. But Haven is looking forward to better days.
Second character choice
n/a
It’s time to see that sample para.
Peach cream smudged cheeks. A thin, careful stroke of liner. Mascara. Waterproof. Uncertainty behind saddened eyes. Hair twisted up into a high bun. The best way to keep it out of her experiments. He’d casually remarked that one day. Still she let wispy bangs hang loose. A generous swipe of neutral toned lipstick. Lips pressed together to distribute the color, and Haven sighed.
Heartbreak wasn’t supposed to happen this way. The love of your life wasn’t supposed to die at twenty-one.
Haven stared at her reflection, and the person staring back at her seemed like a muted version of herself. A neutral face, hair up, black dress, black tights, black everything. Haven fidgeted with the peter pan collar at her neck, the white a stark contrast to everything else. It seemed both so wrong and right at the very same time. She’d never been one to conform, and for that moment she knew that even in his death, Tadashi would be proud. Glasses were carefully replaced to their spot at the bridge of her nose. She’d chosen the translucent pair for this occasion.
A faint drizzle had started as she stepped out from the dorms, and she wondered idly how long the students would be able to stay. There wasn’t exactly a school anymore, but that was a worry for Future Haven. The weather wasn’t a surprise, especially for northern California this time of year, but still it felt appropriate. As if they sky, too, knew of the tragedy they mourned today. Meteorology was a science, after all, and whether they knew it or not, the science community had suffered a great loss.
By the time they reached the cemetery, rain poured from the sky. A fitting welcome, Haven thought, quickly stepping beneath Wyatt’s unfurled umbrella. Hers was a bright pink, a perfect spot of brightness in normal dreary weather, but today that didn’t seem right. Eventually Haven knew she’d put on her bright sunny disposition as often as she could, but right now was a time to let themselves mourn.
The service wasn’t terribly long, expected due to the rain. The plot was near his parents’, and every so often, Haven would look over to glimpse at Hiro. She couldn’t imagine how he was handling things right now. When all was said and done, the group began to disperse, planning to gather afterwards at Aunt Cass’s where friends and family could drink tea and share memories. Their little friend group, now minus a member, lingered, and she’s pretty sure it was Leiko who shoved the umbrella in her hand before they, too, left for the Lucky Cat.
So this was it. Haven Lemos, alone, and Tadashi Hamada’s grave. The plot of grass where he’d lay forever. It wasn’t far from where his parents lay, the three of them at least together again in their final resting place. Haven’s eyes lingered on the headstone, and the hyphen within which Tadashi’s entire life lay. All of his accomplishments, his light, his laughter, his love, her love for him, his brain, his smile, reduced to a punctuation mark, followed by a date past which the two of them would never truly be a couple.
Moments passed until finally Haven knew it was time. Gently she placed her hand atop the marble headstone, caressing it as if she would his face. The ‘I love you’ was implicit; she needn’t speak those three little words aloud. Gathering herself, Haven tightened her grip on the umbrella before heading in the direction of the Lucky Cat Café to meet up with the others at Aunt Cass’s.
This wasn’t the last time she’d see this place.
Anything else, love?
sad breakfast club
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TAGGED BY : stolen from @pcrseverance
TAGGING : Everybody! Do the thing!
— BASICS.
▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE ?
Elerosse is 5′3″, so is pretty short compared to most other humans, and on the short side of average for elves.
▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ?
He usually doesn’t mind it so much, but it often gets rolled up into all his other body issues about being weaker and smaller than other people he’s comparing himself to.
▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE ?
El’s hair is very thick and near perfectly straight. It appears black and glossy in most lights, but does tend to pick up reddish/auburn highlights in direct sunlight. As of the start of the game he’s in the process of growing it out, but it’s in something of an awkward in-between stage. By the time he fights Corypheus, it’s almost to his shoulders, and it’s significantly longer by Trespasser.
▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING ?
While he’s not obsessive about it by any means, Elerosse does like to make sure his hair is clean and neat. It’s one of the few things he genuinely, consistently likes about himself, and that definitely comes across in how well he cares for it. Hair care is one of the few things he indulges in once he has the means, either as Inquisitor or as a companion with a more regular salary.
▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ?
Appearance is a pretty big thing for Elerosse, both because of his own issues with self-image, but also knowing that as a leader figure (as a potential Keeper, and as Inquisitor) his presentation plays a huge role in how others perceive him. He worries a lot, especially early-on and doubly so after being named Inquisitor, about how his styling reflects on the Inquisition, but also not wanting to compromise the more traditional, Dalish styles he’s used to.
[More under the cut!]
— PREFERENCES.
▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS ? outdoors
▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE ? sunshine
▸ FOREST OR BEACH ? forest
▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS ? gems
▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES ? flowers
▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE ? personality
▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD ? in a crowd
▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY ? order
▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES ? painful truths
▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC ? magic
▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT ? peace
▸ NIGHT OR DAY ? day
▸ DUSK OR DAWN ? dawn
▸ WARMTH OR COLD ? warmth
▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS ? close friends
▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME ? Reading a book
— QUESTIONNAIRE.
▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS ?
Above all else, Elerosse has a tendency to work himself into the ground and not ask for help until he’s dangerously close to his breaking point. He had an excellent support system with his clan, his keeper and his family nearby, but being on his own with the Inquisition really puts those bad habits into high-gear, and he’s definitely going to have to do some serious thinking about how he treats himself.
He fidgets near constantly, and if there is a loose thread or a peeling bit of paper, he will find it and he will toy with it. If it’s especially bad, and he has the presence of mind to use it, he has a small protection charm (against the Dread Wolf, of course) that he uses as a sort of fidget toy, running his fingers along the familiar grooves under a table instead of accidentally shredding his meeting notes.
That same anxiety often makes it difficult for him to sleep, and coupled with that same refusal to ask for help, makes it hard for him to request more traditional sleep-aids, instead turning to alcohol or what potions he can discretely make himself. Thus far it hasn’t become too much of an issue, but habits are starting to form.
▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM ? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM ?
While she’s not actually dead, for all intents and purposes he considers his mother to be entirely out of his life and while I wouldn’t say it’s anything as dramatic as being “dead to him,” but they’ve been almost entirely estranged since Elerosse was about six. It took him a very long time to really conceptualize why she left, that it (mostly) wasn’t because of him, and to let go of a lot of that lingering resentment that bled into his attitude towards city elves, and especially those who left Dalish clans by choice.
▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS ?
With his mother gone and his father often absent, Elerosse was raised primarily by his paternal uncle (and other clan members, but this isn’t really the place for Dalish parenting headcanons), the clan’s master craftsman. His workshop was always something of a safe-haven for El when he was feeling poorly or his studies with the Keeper were getting overwhelming, where he could go to vent without judgement. Some of his most cherished memories are either working with his uncle, or days just tucked off to the side of his shop, whittling to clear his mind, maybe talking about things, maybe not.
▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL ?
Alarmingly yes, though it’s definitely much easier the less it looks like an actual person--for example, the more mutated red templars, darkspawn or demons. It actually scares him a little, once he starts, how difficult it is to stop burning when the enemies in the immediate area are all downed. There’s a lot of pent-up rage that he, once again, hasn’t had the time or mental fortitude to deal with yet.
He has a lot more trouble with harming actual people. If they haven’t attacked him first, he’ll go out of his way to negotiate and try to reach some kind of agreement, though he finds that approach much, much more difficult with certain groups. He doesn’t like killing them, even then, for that same reason fear of what if he can’t stop himself, what if he goes too far?
▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN ?
Everything comes to a complete stop. The weight of everything pressing down on him and pulling him in so many different directions will drive him first to distracting himself, then trying to be numb to it, but when that inevitably fails, the panic attack will be debilitating. He’ll already be intentionally isolating, so who knows how long it’ll be before someone finds him, physically unable to move and oscillating between hysterics--sobbing, hyperventilating, even to the point of making himself sick--and being unresponsive as he tries to physically reign in any reaction.
▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE ?
In theory, yes. In practice, though, he’s absolutely going to sacrifice himself first, probably before someone could do that for him instead.
On the flip side, he trusts certain members of his clan to be able to put him down in the event of possession, one of those being his own father. It’s probably something he has a pretty long, in-depth conversation with Cullen about after a few months with the Inquisition, if he would be willing to do the same if such a thing were to happen, and what sort of checks they might have in place if that were to happen to the Inquisitor.
▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE ?
He. Gets. Clingy. Oh boy, does he want to be close at all times. If he manages to get past the silent-pining and crushing phase to an actual, for-real relationship, he wants to be with the person constantly. He’s already a very tactile person with his affections, so it’s just going to get even more pronounced. At the same time, it’s a very casual sort of touching and closeness, even just quietly holding hands or brushing shoulders, just to have some part of them touching.
#ooc#meme#alcohol cw#about elerosse#headcanon#//It's very long so there's more under the cut!!#he has Issues with a capital i
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Trail (Part 1)
As promised, Azula & Zuko as cryptid hunters. Not at all inspired by Supernatural or anything. Like, Wrought Iron Machine this is a new and improved version of an older fic; https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12720884/1/The-Hunt
In this chapter they are going after Nessie.
The loch has the appearance of a bowl of soup, murky and with steam coiling up in thick blankets from the broath. Azula never had any such love for the water, much less being in such a flimsy boat. Though Zhao is rather adamant that his boat is the sturdiest in the whole of Scotland.
She squints out into the fog, trying her hardest to get a sense of anything really. The weather vexes her to a degree--just how the hell is she supposed to get a magazine worthy shot in these conditions?
At the very least, she supposes that she has the satisfaction of winning another debate. The one wherein Zuko had insisted that her rather pricey waterproof camera equipment was a waste of cash. She carefully shields her camera under the protective layer of her new camera cover.
With careful hands, she cleans the lens with her shirt and holds the camera out. She messes with it for a moment or two, zooming in and out trying to find an optimal focus.
"Can you put that away!?" Zuko snaps. "We're not here to take pictures this time.”
Perhaps he isn’t, but she is. It is how she funds getting new equipment and their trips as a whole from gas money to hotel fees. She is about to remind him as much when he continues. “We're here to get rid of that thing once and for all!"
"Get rid of it?" Azula asks as she snaps a test picture.
"Kill it, lass." Zhao clarifies
"I know what he means." Azula grumbles. "Killing it was never part of the plan."
"It's what we brought ye here tae do." Zhao shrugs.
Zuko nods in agreement. "That's what I came to do. I didn't sail all the way to Scotland to gawk at the thing."
Azula is none surprised to hear it. “We don’t need to hunt down everything that has a vague sense of mystery to it.”
“We’re cryptid hunters.”
“I prefer, investigators or researchers.” She counters. All the same she is certain that she won’t get through to him. He has a vicious passion that she doesn’t share. A certain blinding need for vengeance. She recalls with vivid clarity standing in a graveyard on a dreary morning like this one, peering at a grave marked with their mother’s name. Perhaps she doesn’t share his hot-tempered bloodlust because she wasn’t as close with the woman. Or perhaps it is simply that she handles her mother’s passing differently--her temperament is starkly different from her brother’s. “There is only one Loch Ness Monster, if we kill her, we waste research opportunities.” She doesn’t want to admit it, but she has a soft spot for certain monsters. Something she attributes to having been accused of being one for the better part of her life.
It is a strange feat to know that it is Zuko who adores the fame and glory that comes with conquering the town terror. It is more like her to covet the thrill of a conquer.Such has been her nature since she had learned to speak. And yet she finds herself enjoying the smaller aspects of the hunt. Much like Iroh, she had a knack for adventure, the roads they constantly take to provide her with a sense of ease and clarity. Her camera doesn’t just capture the unknown. Its lens have captured mundane beauty and the average road trip sights.
More like herself, Azula also enjoys the intellectual acclaim that came from studying the remains and the behavioral patterns the cryptids had once exhibited in life. She enjoys seeing her photos in the glossy pages of various nature magazines, and on the odd occasion featured on the cover.
Curiosity and prestige, vengeance and a need to protect. She supposes that it is good that they have differing goals. They can pick up what the other lacks.
Azula sighs as a light rain begins putting a dampness in her clothing. She hopes that it won’t worsen, it is hard enough already to make out anything in the dense mist. The girl yawns, they have been out here for hours now just drifting idly along. So far she has only jumped at false alarms.
The misty rain thickens into a thicker shower. Nothing unbearable but still a nuisance. She leans against the railing, staring blankly into the depths of the water.
“This is ridiculous.” Zuko throws his hands up. “Why did you insist that we try to find this thing in the fog? We’d have better luck with clearer weather?"
"Nessie doesn't like to show 'erself in the sunlight. Ah only ever see 'er in the mist." Zhao pauses. “All’a us only ever see ‘er in the mist.”
Azula rolls her eyes, she should have seen the squabble coming, bored as they all were. As their bickering progresses continued, Azula studies the water with a closer eye. A sandy cloud beneath the water seems to swirl as though more dust is being kicked up. Azula reaches for her camera. The other two are paying her no mind, heavily engrossed in their argument.
Whatever is responsible for the peculiar motion darts deeper into the water, where a visual is even harder to come by. For a long moment the water is still save for the bobbing of their boat, it puts an instinctive pounding in Azula’s heart. The underwater cloud disperses revealing a coiled indent in the sand. Azula snaps a quick picture before very softly calling, "Zuko."
"It ain't too rainy, ye just be a weakling, lad." Zhao declares boldly.
"Alright, you tell me what you see out there." Zuko points at an extraordinarily dense patch of fog.
A few feet ahead the water churns and splits. What little light that is able to peirce through the mist, glints off of whatever is emerging. "Zuko." Azula repeats with a hint more urgency, but not enough concern to put her camera down. This could be her one chance to get the perfect snapshot, to provide definitive proof…
She can earn them a very stable income.
"Ah ken see a buncha trees." Zhao interrupts her thoughts.
"Those aren't trees they're large rocks."
"They're trees, ye arse."
The creature begins to rise, slowly and gracefully, its motions tantalizing Azula. With a grin, she takes another picture and another just in case she somehow managed to miss her first shot. From what she can see in the gloomy half-light, the creature is obsidian black in color with a green sheen when the light hits it just right. And with, as she perceives, a smooth texture. She thinks that it is more akin to dolphin skin than fish scales. It could probably pass for an eel if it weren’t so massive and hadn’t it such an impressive maw. "Zuzu” She tries again and with more volume. “I think that you’ll care more about this than winning your petty…”
Zuko threw his hands into the air again, "The sun could be beaming red-hot into my eye sockets, I'd still be have better luck sighting Nessie than I do right now!"
By now, Nessie has been well and roused by their dispute. Her slender neck rises completely from the water. Azula can faintly make out what looks like a dorsal fin. The creature opens its mouth to reveal something akin to a set of shark teeth. Geniuine concern begins to set in and Azula wonders if she has been mistaken in think that Nessie is a more demure and friendly beast.
The fog curls ominously around the creature’s long neck. With a half satisfied and half horrified expression, Azula takes her magazine quality shot. To Zuko she hollars at full volume, “you'll have a better chance of sighting her if you turn around and look!"
Zhao spares her only an uncarring backwards glance, "Eh…what's the lass fussin' aboot?"
In one final display of immaturity, Zuko looks right at the sea monster and says pointedly to Zhao, "I don't know I can't see it through the mist." Azula has to admire that reckless brazeness of it all. She rolls her eyes as Nessie surges.
Ever an oppertuinist she smugly remarks, "I told you that I'd need it eventually."
“Really, you want to do this now?” Zuko grumbles.
“You and Zhao blew me off for petty debates.” Azula shrugs as Nessie slams into their boat. Azula stumbles and clutches her camera protectivly.
"Lassie, get yer priorities taegether." Zhao remarks.
The boat rocks with the collision of the beast's body and sea-sickness sets in. Upon gazing at a decently large dent in the ship’s steel haul, Azula recalls that swimming is not her strong suit.
"Still don't want to kill it?" Zuko asks hopefully.
Oddly, she doesn’t. She frowns in concentration as she fights to get the boat’s engine whirring again. Unlike herself, Zhao didn't seem to have come all that prepared for this endeavor. She looks at the dashboard. "You didn't happen to bring any extra fuel did you?"
"Int it much left, but Ah goat some." Zhao rummages through his belongings.
"Hurry up and find it!" Zuko grimaces as the Loch Ness Monster lands a third strike. Zuko, despite Azula’s protests, takes hold of his gun again and cocks it. He ignored her outrage and took aim, firing a shot at the patch of water wherein Nessie had been last spotted.
"You're just going to make her angry." Azula cautions. "We won't stand a chance then."
"If I hit the right spot…" Zuko starts.
"We're not killing it!" Azula argues again.
"It'll kill us."
She can’t quite refute that line of reasoning other than pointing out that they had picked a fight in Nessie's territory. Regardless, Azula very much wants to escape with her life and her camera. Reluctantly she releases her hold on Zuko’s arm.
He steadied his gun once more only to have his nearly perfect alignment stolen by another blow. This time the boat overturns. The option to right it once more is stolen by Nessie's stubby but powerful tail coming down on it with a vengeance.
"Ah shite." Zhao yells as he finds himself dipping beneath the waves.
"Shut up and swim." Azula instructs. For her it is easier said than done with the extra weight of her camera. But she'll be damned if she lets their efforts go completely to waste. She scans, with a swelling sense of panic, the water for a chunk of the boat or any large sea debris. Some distance down the lake she spies a fairly large log. All she has to do was make it there.
She is about to vocalize her plan upon realizing that this seems to be a case of every man to himself, for Zuko and Zhao are a good many strokes ahead of her. She doesn’t think that they mean to leave her behind; she has an athletic history, why would they fret over her? Even if such isn’t the case, neither of the pair pay any mind to each other either. With nothing else to do, and a sea monster hot on her trail, she takes a deep breath and pushed herself through the water as fast as she could muster. She is distressed to find, that she isn’t fast at all between the camera and the bagginess of her clothing. Azula curses to herself, her belly tying itself in knots as the gravity of the situation begins to settle in.
She tries to gauge the distance between herself and the shoreline.
It was so far…
So far and she knows damn well that she can’t swim. She shudders as Nessie draws nearer. They have already lost their parents to these creatures. She doesn’t want to die. Not like this, not helplessly treading water. She tries to kick herself forward but the motions are so foreign to her. Her body slips beneath the surface and she finds herself truly hoping that Nessie would devour her. It seems less agonizing than suffocating. Less dismal than sinking to the bottom of the loch, water logged and gathering barnacles.
.oOo.
Zuko is panting furiously panting heavily by the time he reaches the shore. His limbs are completely spent and his energy terribly depleted. He'd put so much time into this trip and will gain nothing from it, and with the world just as infested as it has ever been. The famous Loch Ness will still plague the waters a hazardously as before. He slams his fist into the sand. What kind of hunters are they if they can’t even take down one beast.
One of a lower threat level at that.
"Laddy, Ah don't see yer sister anywhere." Zhao interrupts his furious thoughts.
Zuko bolts upright and scans the beach for himself. "She's here, she has to be." He scrambles to his feet and screams her name, only to have it echo back it him. "Azula!" He shouts again. The world around him is so terribly quiet. Even Zhao has nothing to say.
Zuko balls his hands. He can’t lose her too. At times she is downright dreadful to work with, controlling and condescending. But he can’t lose her. He can’t let the supernatural claim any more of his family.
But the loneliness of the beach tells him that he already has.
The rain is falling in sheets now, even if he tries to make out her tiny form, he doesn’t have much hope of spotting it.
"Ah think we should gather a search party, aye?"
"That's not going to do any good." Zuko mumbles. "Not in this weather." It’ll be too late by the time it clears. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing her body anyhow. She looks enough like their mother to hurt him twice over.
This time Zhao doesn’t argue. "If ye wanna stand 'ere n wait then ye do that. Ah am gaun tae get some help."
Zuko supposes that he should thank the man. Instead he stares blankly at the thrashing water. A ways off, he can swear that he is able to make out the silhouette of his foe. A dark shape drawing ever closer and this time he doesn’t have his gun. Much like Azula, that seems to be lost to the sea. Yet the sheer force of his anger roots him in place—somehow, he'll avenge his sister, he’ll die doing so.
Death doesn’t seem so bad with his mother dead and his father missing. And with his sister so freshly claimed. Even still, he can practically hear her making an commanding him to stand down and let Nessie off easy.
Time crawls slowly. Nessie languidly coasts along with no sense of urgency, none the wiser to the fury she was heading towards.
Zuko can see her with more clarity now, the creature that has haunted the loch for so long. She is every bit horrifying as the locals had warned. Those eyes, large and glassy, bare into him. Fully aware of the folly it is, he takes a sizable rock in his hand. Before he can throw his rudimentary weapon, Nessie bows her head.
As if it were some mundane, every day occurrence, Azula leaps off of the creature. She looks battered, her lip bleeds at its corner. “Azula.” He whispers.
She gives him a small wave, she leans against the monster for a tad longer.
“Get away from that thing.” Zuko shouts.
Azula rolls her eyes. “This thing saved me.”
“She wouldn’t have had to if she hadn’t attacked us in the first place.”
“Honestly, Zuzu, we drove a noisy boat into the middle of the loch and began screaming and yelling…” She trails off. “Personally, I wouldn’t take kindly to someone kicking our hotell door in and causing a scene.” She runs her hand over the monster’s hide.
“That thing is…”
She cuts him off. “If it is like the creature that killed mother, then I’d be dead already.” To drive her point home, she begins stroking its snout. He cringes all over as her hand nears its mouth. She goes much too far to prove herself correct. The sea monster nudges Azula’s forehead, throwing off balance. And with a rather great sound and a surprising speed, darts back towards the cloudier parts of the loch.
With a cocky grin, Azula holds up her camera. "I still have the pictures too."
Zuko sighs, unsure if he is impressed or furious that she had managed to hang onto the camera. “So?”
Azula shrugs. “I don’t think that I will release them.”
"What do you mean you aren’t going to release them?" Zuko roars. "You went through all of that trouble to protect the damn camera and you're not going to release the photos?"
"I'm glad you're okay too, Zu-Zu." Azula waves him off. "No, I won't. None of the clearer shots anyhow. She doesn't need more people like you going after her. If they get real proof, they will go after her.”
"So what you’re trying to say is that this trip was pointless?" Zuko asks. All the same, he is grateful to be having this argument with her rather than crying over her lifeless corpse.
"Our hunts don't always have to have a point.” Azula pauses. “Not everything has a point, sometimes things just are." She shrugs. "But if it makes you feel better, no, it’s not completely pointless. I have a few decent shots, they're of better quality than most of shots of Nessie. I'll sell those."
Zuko sighs as things fully settle in. "I guess it doesn't matter right? As long as you're okay.” He has his arms around her before he realizes what he is doing. Try as she may, she isn’t able to evade his fluff and sappiness this time. “I’m also glad that I’ll never have to see Zhao again."
"I don't know about that last thing, Zu-Zu. He told me that he'd be interested in joining our duo."
"He what? That's not the truth. Please tell me that, that's not the truth."
"I don't know, I think it would be interesting to have him tagging along with us. I'd love to hear what he'd say if he came face to face with a some of the nastier beings.”
“He is not joining our team.” Zuko says firmly, he for one, could do without the visual. "I supposed we should catch up to him though. Before he gets everyone and their long dead ancestors to go looking for you."
"I don't know, I think that I might be fine with the attention." Azula smirked. She slings her camera case over her shoulder and follows Zuko up the beach.
.oOo.
She is wiped and aching up and down and wants to do nothing other than return to their hotel room. But Zuko insists on stopping for a bite to eat. She supposes that she is rather hungry too so she lets him have his way. Smelling of dirty lake water and drenched to her very soul, Azula sits in the booth and goes through her pictures. She feels a sense of pride, she has done very well this time around. They have all come out so clear and unmistakable. For a moment, she forgets about her discomforts and her faintly burning lungs. “They’re perfect Zuzu, look at them.”
He looks up from his coffee. “Yeah that one is pretty nice. But which ones are you submitting?”
Azula scrolls through the camera’s library and shows him a few. The ones that are somewhat blurry, but still distinguishable. “They’re clear enough to get attention but blurry enough to leave room for debate.”
Zuko nods.
“Aye lass, laddie.” Zhao greets.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Zuko scowls.
“I told you that he wants to join us.”
“Do Ah need tae submit an application?” He asks.
“Yes.” Zuko answers as Azula asks, “can you fire a gun?”
“Ah ken, very well, lass.”
“Are you any good at running?”
“Ah used tae be on the track team.”
“Are you easily frightened.”
He shakes his head no.
“Hired.”
“What!?” Zuko spits his coffee back into his cup. “No. No way.”
“I think that we can use an extra hand.” Azula shrugs. “Especially if we’re actually going to start taking the hunting aspect more seriously.” For the longest time they have been going back and forth trying to decide if they should take on higher risk cryptids.
Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. “We can’t afford…”
“Ah ken pay fer meself.” Zhao cut in. “Ah ken even take my own car.”
On a normal day, she would have a business card to hand the man, but those are floating at the bottom of Loch Ness. Instead she scrawls her number onto a napkin. “We’ll be in town for a few more days, until uncle finds us a new job.”
.oOo.
Zuko watches his sister pick through a pile of sheets, newspaper clippings, headline printouts, and marked up maps that she has spread out on the floor. She has a pen dangling from her mouth as she narrows her eyes in concentration.
She takes the pen from her mouth to check off the box next to, ‘track Nessie’. He follows her gaze down the list.
“Uncle has a lot of options for us this time around, which one do you want to go for?” She asks as she riffles through a few of the printouts before holding them out to him.
Zuko picks his way through them and he knows that she knows what he is going to say. “I want to track the wendigo. What do you want to do?”
Azula peers at the marked map. Just as well as she knows of his goals, Zuko knows that she is trying to decide which being will bring them closer to where they’d last heard from their father. Evidently, that puts their choices in alignment for once.
Looking over Iroh’s reports she mutters. “I’ll book a flight to Canada.” He can see on her face that she doesn’t like it. She isn’t any more fond of the cold than he is. “In the man time,” she holds out a small sum of cash, “be a dear and get us some winter wear.”
She gives the notes another scan. “From the looks of it Canada has quite a few creatures out and about this autumn. We can make a few side stops along the way.”
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Could I request Yandere!dragon!Shinguuji+Gonta/fem!SO where Shinguuji's fascination with humans causes him to collect them and these two are the latest in his "collection"? (I'm not sure if a dragon will work but it's the first one I thought of cause of dragon treasure hordes and stuff like that).
Hello! Sorry it’s taken me so long to do this request, work has unfortunately been rather hectic ^_^;
I hope you enjoy!
- Mod Gundham
- As a dragon, Shinguji’s subspecies would be a Japanese Ryū ! His obsidian scales, golden antlers and flowing shadowy mane are quite the sight to behold as he weaves through the sky.
- Though all dragons are natural attracted to precious stones and rare metals, they also tend to hoard their favourite items. For some, this might consist of rare species of plants, ancient scrolls or even scented candles, but for Korekiyo, he had a particular like for humans.
- His interest in keeping them first started when he heard tales of some of his western cousins abducting royalty.
- He had stolen the odd prince and princess in his time, but once you steal one, he feels that you might have well have stolen them all. Many reacted in the same way, there was no variety. How was he supposed to see more beautiful aspects of his pets if they were all the same? It just wouldn’t do. It must be because they’re all groomed to act and perform in a specific way.
- When he grew bored of the humans that were no longer entertaining him, he would sometimes pit them against each other, watching their desperation with glee as they thought to the death after being promised that the winner would be freed. If those fleeting moments of exhilaration and fear weren’t enough, the overwhelming waves of despair that the “Winner” began to drown in after finding Korekiyo wasn’t actually going to stay true to his word were delicious. Sometimes too delicious, causing the enamored dragon to eat them.
- Unfortunately, that happened to his last acquisitions, causing Korekiyo to go on the prowl in his human form so that he could find some new toys.
- Korekiyo decided to go on the hunt in a small mountain village, donning a simple navy yukata with his hair tied back into a simple ponytail, allowing his handsome features to be seen.
- He chose this spot since there was a festival in full swing, thinking that nobody would notice if somebody happened to “Get lost in the crowd”.
- It didn’t take him long to find his targets.
- A large, muscular young man with wild chocolate hair eagerly tugging at his female companion’s arm, pointing at what looked like a swarm of fireflies that were illuminating a gloomy lesser used path that happened to lead to a derelict shrine that lay a short walk from the village.
- Korekiyo could help but smirk, unfolding his bamboo fan in an attempt to conceal his face as he watched the pair stumble over the uneven ground, sealing their fate.
- Once they were far enough from the town, the abandoned shrine just in view, Korekiyo used his magic to summon a heavy rain storm, strong winds battering the area, causing the festival goers to flee and his marks to panic, running towards the rickety shrine in an attempt to find cover.
- As soon as you enter the crumbling building, Korekiyo wastes no time, transforming back into his slender serpentine form and navigating the biting gales with ease.
- Using his powerful tail, he completely levels the already ruined building, not even giving the pair of you a chance to react as he snatches you both into his three toed claws. You’re not sure whether it’s the shock or the force of the impact, but you’re both knocked unconscious.
- When you awaken, you’re in a luxuriously furnished room. Gonta is softly snoring next to you, not yet having woken up from the ordeal.
- The frame of the double bed looks like it’s made of pure gold, as do the jeweled chest of drawers and plant pot containing a carefully pruned bonsai. As you sat up in the plush bed and pushed back the silk covers, the gurgling trickle of water pulled your attention to a free flowing stream at the side of the room that fed into a small pool, containing baby koi. It was only after you pulled your attention away from them and continued to glance around bewildered at your surroundings that you spotted Korekiyo in his human form sat on chair in the corner, watching you expectantly.
- Being in his own home, he allowed his human form to loosen up a bit, exposing his tail and horns but otherwise appearing normal.
- Sat with his arms loosely crossed, one hand resting under his chin as he he stared at you expressionlessly, waiting for you to react.
- Whether it’s with fear or anger, he’s intrigued. No matter how much you try to to speak to him to ask him where you are or who he is, he keeps quiet for now, preferring to watch you plead and try to wake your companion.
- After a while, without saying anything, he stands and leaves the room, locking the door behind him. Unbeknownst to you, he’s leaning his back against that door, trembling in excitement as he tries to think of how he could get his new treasures to show him new facets of humanity.
- Although he’s keeping you captive, he treats you extremely well. He provides you with home cooked meals every day, several times a day and often leaves you with activities such as puzzle balls, just to see how you react as he secretly observes you from the pool, entering from a concealed tunnel underwater.
- Being a dragon who has lived outside of human society, he wasn’t really used to cooking actual meals until he started collecting humans. Though some of his well practiced recipes can be delicious, others can be disgusting. It’s a fifty-fifty risk.
- He especially enjoys it when the pair of you try to escape- testing the locks, locking for weaknesses in the walls or jade tiled floor. Once or twice, he has purposely left your room door unlocked just to watch your reaction and what you do next. Of course, he never lets you truly escape. The marble tiled corridors just seem to go on forever, an unrelenting maze. You always find yourself running in circle for hours, before ending right back in front of your room door.
- You don’t know how long you’ve been trapped in Korekiyo’s prison, the seconds now feel like months as day and night blend into one, the golden chandelier and candlesticks making up for the lack of natural daylight in the windowless room.
- After observing your for so long, Korekiyo began to grow fonder of both you and Gonta than his past humans, causing him to become a little bolder in his desire for more reactions from you.
- Upon announcing his name and that he was a dragon, he wasn’t especially impressed by Gonta’s pleas to be released, it was to far a normal reaction. Not only that, but the pair of you belonged to him now, you had no right to leave.
- Korekiyo’s method of punishment for bad humans is to tie them up in golden chains. He loves how the precious metal looks against their skin, and how they struggle as they try to wiggle out of them. Even when the friction burns start to warm their skin, their expressions of pain as they wince, continuing to flail even though they know it is meaningless, like a fly caught in a spiders web, it’s just so beautiful to him.
- Gonta wanting to constantly escape has resulted in the dragon binding him multiple times. Though Korekiyo enjoys watching him squirm clothed only in shiny chains, he can’t help but feel a sharp pang of fury at Gonta forever trying to escape. The longer he cares for you, the greater his possessiveness over the pair of you grows.
- If anyone ever did try to rescue you, you’d never know. Korekiyo would ferociously destroy any attempt of people taking away his precious collection.
- As time goes by, he becomes more touchy, taking any kind of neutral or positive reaction as an invitation to connect to you and Gonta with physical contact. SFW or NSFW, it’s up to you. Either way, behaving in a way he doesn’t like, or sometimes if he does, results in being tied up.
- Though he doesn’t talk much about himself, the one thing he can guarantee to you is that you’ll never see sunlight again.
#korekiyo shinguuji#korekiyo shinguji#gonta gokuhara#dragon#mod gundham#monster au imagines#danganronpa imagines#danganronpa v3 imagines#drv3 imagines
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If anyone ever asked Michael where his favorite spot in the world was - though no one ever would - he’d tell them it was here. Out in the middle of the country, lying on his back on the ground next to his truck, dirt under his fingers, staring up at the skies.
The corn rustles in the breeze and the fireflies flitting between are doing their best impression of the stars above in the hazy twilight. Despite the muggy night, the breeze kicked up by the distant mountains sends goosebumps up Michael’s arms. Storm clouds are piling up on the horizon, and the sun is setting in all its brilliance behind them.
He can feel the whole damn world out here.
The magic of the earth hums under his fingertips.
It feels like breathing, pulling the magic in and out of his body. He lets it fill him up completely, the power tingling through his nerves and muscle fibers. Every inch of him is magic, bright and fire and pain - until it’s not anymore, and he feels empty to his core. And then he brings it back in, slowly, inch by inch, taking from the earth and pouring into his body like he’s pouring water into a jug. Letting it go again feels like pouring that water back into the ocean.
He could take from the stars, he thinks, if he wanted. He could take but giving it back might kill him, if the stars decided they wanted more from him than what he took. He wonders what they might give back if he gave some of his magic to them.
He takes a deep, steadying breath, the magic humming in his lungs, and it makes him smile.
It’s nice to remember that this doesn’t have to hurt - that magic doesn’t have to be about pain, about sacrifice. There are times where he forgets what his body is supposed to feel like, because all his neurons remember is what the raw, aching magic of the earth feels like.
This - this right here, this feeling - is not the world’s to take, no matter how much else it may own of Michael. His father can’t take this from him.
He opens his eyes to find Anthony leaning against his truck, parked a couple of feet behind Michael. He’s somehow not surprised that Anthony’s here, even though he hadn’t been thirty seconds ago when he’d first closed his eyes. Michael hadn’t sensed anything, hadn’t felt or heard him coming up to the truck - but Anthony’s always been able to sneak up on him in ways he least expects it.
Anthony turns to look at him, eyes blazing. His jaw is clenched, arms crossed over his chest. Michael’s suddenly hit, not for the first time, with the realization that Anthony’s beautiful. He’s beautiful in a deadly kind of way, with elongated cheekbones and a harsh jawline, in the way that a knife or a sword can be beautiful.
Every part of him, from his dark hair pulled to one side in an undercut like an oil spill, to his narrowed green eyes, is carefully cultivated to radiate danger, to radiate that he probably knew at least 35 different ways to kill you with his bare hands. This boy was a match at the moment right before being lit, filled with all the potential and anticipation of an explosion with none of the heat.
“Are you here to kill me?” Michael asks, finally. It’s half in jest, half serious. The last time they’d seen each other had been during one of Anthony’s mother’s rallies against using magic to power their town. How magic was an abomination, a sin, that needed to be wiped out. Anthony had stood there, back straight and jaw clenched, staring out into the crowd, eyes glazed over until they’d met Michael’s in the crowd.
They’ve been circling each other ever since Michael’s father dragged him to this town while preaching about saving it from itself, with stolen glances and secret conversations, like collapsing binary stars. It was inevitable that they would crash into each other at some point. Michael’s just surprised it took them this long.
Anthony shakes his head, in curt, cut-off movements that were stopped before they were started, looking away again.
“Are you here to take away my magic?” Michael asks again.
The storm’s kicking up, thunder rolling across the field as lightning cracks across the skies. The wind hisses as it blows through the corn fields. It kicks up Anthony’s hair, and Michael’s fingers itch to fix it.
Anthony sighs heavily and shakes his head again. “No.”
Michael realizes abruptly that the reason that the danger around Anthony seems so cultivated is probably because he’s very bad at being dangerous.
“Okay.” Michael sits up and holds out his hand for Anthony to help him up. He watches the struggle in Anthony’s eyes, a vein in his jaw twitching, until he eventually leans over, T-shirt stretching over his shoulders, and grabs Michael’s hand, pulling him up. Lightning splinters the sky again and Michael feels the first drop of rain on his skin. The air smells like ozone.
He dusts off his jeans, jarred somehow by that simple touch, and continues, “Why are you here, then?”
Anthony doesn’t say anything for a long second. “I -” He takes a deep breath. “I was thinking about what you were saying before. About - about magic.”
Michael doesn’t say anything. He just watches Anthony clench and unclench his fists a couple of times. The fading sunlight is snagging on Anthony’s features, throwing them into relief, and for a dizzying second he looks like an oil painting come to life.
In the moments while he’s waiting for Anthony to continue, Michael’s eyes catch on what they always catch on when he stares at Anthony.
All along his exposed arms and torso are pale scars of every shape and size, some long and corded, some raised and puckered. One under his right shoulder looks like a bullet wound, red and angry. His arms have small burns that look like cigarette burns clustered down them, with interspersed deep scars that look too much like stab wounds for Michael’s stomach. They’re extensive, and Michael constantly wonders why no one says or does anything about them, especially when he’s out here displaying them like medals he’s won.
Anthony got these scars training to kill people like Michael. Michael crosses his arms across his chest subconsciously, as if that would make his own scars recede into his body.
Anthony finally continues, every line and plane of his body corded with tension, “About how magic isn’t - good or bad.” Anthony looks at Michael in the eye. His hair is in his eyes, but he doesn’t brush it away. “About how it just is.”
Michael nods. “Magic has no morality,” he repeats himself. “People do.”
Anthony looks away again. He’s twisting the leather bracelet on his right wrist, around and around. Michael doesn’t rush him. He’s content to wait him out, content to just be next to him. He still can’t fight it, this pulsing need to know this boy better, to know everything about him. He has a feeling - a giddy, fizzy kind of feeling that makes him want to jump off of a cliff - that it’s mutual. He hopes.
Magic crackles under the earth, the wind whipping their clothes now and misting them with the oncoming rainfall. The sky booms with another peal of lightning. Michael knows they should probably head inside, but he knows that if they do, he’ll never hear what Anthony’s struggling to tell him. Michael can feel the magic in everything right now - the earth, the trees, the lightning and the wind - and he breathes it all in, wanting to laugh in the joy of it.
“Will you -” Anthony starts again. He has to yell now, to be heard over the wind. “I want to try something.”
“Okay,” Michael says. Anything. “What?”
“Kiss me,” Anthony says, fists clenched and eyes boring into Michael’s, almost daring him to say no. Maybe hoping he would. With those eyes, he could have chosen to set the whole sky on fire. Instead, Michael is the only one burning.
There’s no world in which Michael would say no.
He steps forward toward Anthony, and everything else seems to fade away at the hereness of Anthony - everything that seemed so important a couple of seconds ago suddenly isn’t.
He stands in front of this boy and looks across at him, and thinks of the way Anthony finds comfort in the small things, smiles at cute dogs on the streets, and how he knows so little of Anthony, but how he wants to know everything. He clasps the back of Anthony’s neck and drags him in close, fingers digging into his skin.
Anthony brings his hand up to cradle Michael’s face, thumb resting on the high point of Michael’s cheekbone and heel of his hand pressing against his throat. Michael can’t remember the last time someone had touched him without ill intentions, can’t remember the last time touch wasn’t painful or suffocating or nauseating.
His eyes flicker down to Anthony’s mouth and he licks his lips involuntarily.
“Is this okay?” Anthony asks softly, breath ghosting over Michael’s mouth.
They stand poised in the moment for a full three seconds before Michael closes the gap. He feels the bottom of his stomach drop out in exhilaration as they kiss – they’re at the edge of the world and Anthony is the only thing keeping him afloat.
The sky roars above them, and the raindrops are now so large they sting as they hit Michael’s skin. The fields are their only witness, and they’re anything but silent as the wind whips through it.
Anthony kisses like he wants to crack open the sky and pour the heavens into Michael - like the heavens will move and the earth stand still if he wills it hard enough. It’s stars breaking open where their mouths touch, spilling their secrets like constellations across the sky of their bodies.
They finally pull apart, and - Michael’s eyes widen at the sight in front of him.
Anthony huffs a breath, laughing slightly. “Seventeen years. Seventeen years I was able to keep this hidden. Through all the trials and all the trainings - all the scars, Michael. Each and every one of them. I kept it bottled, I kept it hidden. But you - you -“ He laughs again. It’s the most expressive Michael’s ever seen Anthony’s face, and it make something inside Michael ache with longing.
“Anthony,” Michael breathes, slowly. He blinks again, as if he can erase the sight in front of him by doing so. “You - you have magic.”
The air around Anthony is all static - it’s crackling lightning, stopping and starting in time with his emotions. His hair is raised with the electricity, and even when the lightning coming off of Anthony’s body hits Michael, it doesn’t hurt. He looks like - he looks like a star come to life, with roiling streaks of lightning all around him.
Anthony slowly raises one arm, the bursts of lightning around him following his movements, and before Michael can blink again lightning from the sky comes down to meet Anthony with a loud peal of thunder.
This is the moment, Michael thinks. This is the moment he’ll remember as the point in time when the universe realigned itself, when the heavens started revolving around Anthony. It’s the moment he’ll remember as the first time he put a name to the sharp pain in his chest and the overwhelming rush of emotions (fierce pride on the heels of awe and possessiveness, and a touch of fizzy giddiness) in his throat.
Anthony lets the lightning - and the magic - flow through him and into the ground before bringing the crackling electricity within himself again and looking up at Michael, eyes guarded and face shuttered closed. “I have magic,” he confesses.
#don't look at me#text#figured i'd put this up here!#michael tag#excerpts from a book i'll never write#excerpt from a book i'll never write#spilled ink#spilled prose#prose#literature#writing tag#my writing#of shadows and men
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an unbelievably beautiful day
If you wantto give me feedback, please comment here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/14987174
Bellamy closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window. The sun was heating up his back and while he enjoyed the warm feeling, he wished for nothing more than not sitting where he was. The air was stuffy, everyone was sweating and the heat got even worse with the sun constantly shining through the windows. Oh, what would he give not being stuck inside this stupid streetcar on his way home. Just like dozens other people who called it a day.
Usually he would sit on his bike right now, riding the ten miles home. The air would be so fresh and sweet and not as toxic as in here. He would probably stop by his favorite pub for a short well-earned and cold beer. At this thought alone, of what he was missing out, the delicious taste of the ice cold drink, Bellamy’s throat got dry and he sighed regretfully. He had forgotten to lock up his racing bike just <i>once</i>, just <i>one</i> time, and it got stolen!
One fucking time! It was his own fault, Bellamy knew that. He should have locked it up after coming home late last night after spending the evening with his friends (and drinking more than <i>one</i> well-earned and cold beer). But he had been too lazy and tired, so he just had gotten inside, telling himself that there were so many bikes in this city that the possibility of his bike getting stolen was nil.
Nil his fucking ass! He got a heart attack when he couldn’t find his bike this morning and cursed and mentally slapped himself for being so stupid and naïve, not locking it up. Of course they would steal his bike – it was a fucking Cipollini NK1K! He paid almost five grand’s on this beautiful cycle. He was more than stupid and naïve for leaving it unlocked on the street overnight! It was reckless! So, Bellamy deserved sitting in the overcrowded streetcar, sweating the hell out of his thick pants he had to wear as a construction worker and almost choking on the horrible air quality. God, he normally should be walking the ten miles on foot for his stupidity. And considering the circumstances Bellamy asked himself why he wasn’t.
He tried not to think about the high possibility that this ride wouldn’t be his last one. He probably had to take this stupid streetcar for a very long time now because it wasn’t like he just had five grand’s left under his pillow so he could get himself a new cycle. Maybe he should take Miller upon his offer to take his instead. It wasn’t as half as good as Bellamy’s but it was – in contrast to his – still there. And he wouldn’t have to sit in this sardine of transport for the next weeks. Yeah, yeah he should write Miller and take his offer. He wouldn’t stand another drive in here.
Bellamy loved being outside. He loved the fresh air, the rays of sunshine and the smell of the nature. God, he preferred bicycling to work even when it was raining as hell. The ten miles were his workout, his way to relieve stress and letting his mind wander off. It was his routine, a part of who he was. And taking the bike to work every day wasn’t just healthier and helped him staying in shape but it was also much faster. It depended on his condition of the day but if he was good, Bellamy could make it to work within thirty minutes. Mostly he needed forty, fourty-five. With this stupid streetcar he would need over an hour at least because he had to change into another line and had a seven minutes foot walk ahead.
Bellamy opened his eyes and took a look around the streetcar. There were so many different people with him. Young kids, pupils and students. Families and older citizen. Male and female. Some of them were reading the newspaper, others were chatting but most of them were staring at their phones. Listening to music, which reminded Bellamy of his own earphones. He still had a thirty minutes’ drive ahead, according to the stop overview. So he plugged the headphones into his phone, opening his Spotify and started a mixed playlist after putting them into his ears.
Then he opened his messenger and the conversation with Miller, asking if his offer was still standing. After that Bellamy shoved his phone back into his pocket and let his mind wander off again. People entered and left the streetcar. All of them happy to be able to escape this sardine. Or regretful and disgusted when they entered. Bellamy smiled in amusement, even though he took a deep breath every time the door opened, just like the others, thankful for even the smallest amount of fresh air.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Once, twice – five times in a row. By the time he held it in his hands, Bellamy had gotten a bunch of messages. His friends, discussing what to do today’s evening. At this time of the year it became some kind of routine for the squad to meet almost every evening to spend some time together, talking, drinking and mostly having a BBQ, even after sunset. They had been at Murphy’s yesterday and invited themselves at Lincoln and Octavia’s the day before that. Now they were asking Bellamy if he wanted to host them today and well, actually they weren’t even asking. They just decided to come over, like always.
Jasper: What’s our destination today? :-P
Octavia: Not Heavensberg Street!
Jasper: Why not? :-( I love your place.
Lincoln: So do we, but you have been here two days ago and I’m still cleaning up.
Jasper: . . . well, it just got a little out of control. But it was Saturday night! We all have to work tomorrow, so best behavior today :-D
Murphy: *snorts* As if.
Octavia: Still not Heavensberg Street, Jasper!
Jasper: Okay :-/ What about the other Blake? I’m not sure if I can remember where Bellamy lives because it’s been a while since he hosted.
Monty: We’re living two blocks away Jasper! But yeah, what about Bellamy’s?
Murphy: I’m in.
Harper: Perfect.
Octavia: I have to stop by anyway, so why not?
Jasper: Sweet! When? Six as usual?
Bellamy sighed, answering,
Bellamy: My place it is but not before seven. I am still on my way home >.<
Murphy: streetcar sucks, huh?
Bellamy: You have no idea.
Octavia: Your own fault big brother, you should have locked the cycle.
Bellamy: . . .
Harper: Well, it could be a lot worse. Make the best out of it <3
Jasper: Yeah, who knows what’s waiting around the corner for you ;-)
Bellamy snorted in amusement and shook his head. There was nothing waiting around the corner for him. It just sucked sitting in here with his thick clothes and the hot sun in his back. And right now, Bellamy couldn’t think of anything worse than this place. Seriously, no good could come out of this ‘darkness’.
He shoved the phone back into his pants and let his eyes wander through the streetcar, which had just started moving again after stopping at a station and then his heart skipped a beat. Actually, it skipped a couple of beats because – hot damn! He was just looking at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was standing a few steps away from him, holding onto the holding rod, while her gaze was focused on her smartphone in her left hand.
She was wearing a knee-length, high-necked business dress. It was pretty simple, nothing special. And it hid most of her figure but the swell of her breasts and the curves of her hips that stuck out, gave him a pretty good hint of what her body looked like underneath this gray dress. God, this dress was gray, the most boring color ever but her wearing it, Bellamy decided that it became his new favorite. He never thought that gray could be so beautiful and breathtaking. His eyes raked her up and down. He took her in, fully and slowly (and in a very creepy way, probably) but Bellamy couldn’t help it. She was just so beautiful.
Her blonde hair was bounded up into a crowns braid - he had done it hundred of times when Octavia was kid -, plenty hair strands were already torn out, hanging all over the place. She was standing sideways to Bellamy so he couldn’t really see her face but he noticed a little mull over her lip and long eyelashes. Her skin looked soft, warm and elegant. Almost fragile. It has a creamy color, unlike his. Bellamy’s father had been Filipino, while his mother had been American. And even though Bellamy never had met his father, because he died before Bellamy was born, he just looked like his dad. Bellamy had his deep brown eyes and the messy, curly hair. The tanned olive shaped skin and a constellation of stars on his face. At least Octavia used to call his freckles like that when she was little.
So the woman looked like anything but him. Her hair was shining, almost glowing in the sunlight. She was short, maybe 5’5”. Probably 5’7” with the shoes she was wearing. Bellamy swallowed, feeling a different kind of warm heating up his body now. His heart pounded against his ribcage. Fast, heavy and fascinated by the sight his eyes captured in. He knew that he had to stop looking - or staring would be more accurate - at her like this. Otherwise someone would call him out on it or worse - she would notice it herself!
Which would be the worst, right? He didn’t want her to think he was a creepo. On the other hand - he did want her to notice him. He wanted to talk to her. He should talk to her. She was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen. Bellamy internally groaned when he saw her teeth burying themselves into her bottom lip, eyes focused on the small screen in her hand. A small crease appeared on her forehead and then she started to smile. Her lips curled up, forming itself into a bright, absolutely adorable smile. There were small wrinkles around her eyes, dimples in her cheeks and then she looked up from her phone, turning her head away from Bellamy, shaking it in amusement.
Bellamy’s heart beat faster. He’d never seen something this beautiful. Her smile literally took his breath away. Which was kind of embarrassing but at the same time, Bellamy didn’t care. He was way too awestruck by this woman. He swallowed, trying to banish the knot out of his throat. He wanted to shout at the blonde, telling her not to look away but to look at him. He wanted to see her face again. He needed to see the sweet smile, her full bright lips. And Bellamy died the second her head turned around, face right towards his direction. She wasn’t looking at him, but he could see her face, her eyes for the very first time and Bellamy swore he went to heaven. The woman’s eyes were out of the clearest blue. Clearer and bluer than the sky, the ocean - they were unlike anything he had seen before. Her eyes shined like the reflection of the sun on the ocean’s surface. She looked like a princess. Like the ones out of the fairytales his mom used to read out to him and his sister.
She looked - right at him. Bellamy had been so awestruck that he didn’t notice first but then it hit him. Everything stopped at once. His heart, his mind, his lungs. While sis smile fainted when she directly looked into his eyes (more out of panic of being caught), her smile on her lips didn’t disappear. The woman didn’t look away like Bellamy would have if he had been her and noticed someone was watching him like he watched her. Bellamy had a lump in his throat, he swallowed thickly and never broke the eye contact. He didn’t dare to move, not wanting to ruin the moment because there definitely was a moment. But then her lips curled up a little bit further and Bellamy let his gaze rake over her face, noticing the slightly reddened cheeks. He blinked a few times, not believing what he was seeing and before he could help himself he returned her smile.
He mirrored it, feeling everything inside him going upside down. His heart was jumping and the heat inside him made him a little dizzy. Bellamy noticed how her blue eyes left his own and raked over him, giving him an electrical feeling, before locking her gaze with his again. Bellamy licked his lips, mostly unconscious but watching her eyes dropping down to his movements and then - then the woman got jostled by another passenger and the moment was gone. She turned around to look at the person who stumbled into her and Bellamy felt his heart dropping to his guts. He let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and leaned back against the window, trying to process what just had happened. Trying to get his flattering heart under control again. God, she was so attractive and she had been cleary checking him out as well. There was no doubt when her eyes flickered over him and then dropping to his lips. Bellamy swallowed once again before looking across the wagon towards the blonde woman, who was still gazing at him. She smiled shyly before turning her attention back to the smartphone she was still holding.
Bellamy couldn’t help himself but to keep watching the woman almost non-stop.Despite his unsuccessful and honestly really embarrassing attempt to focus on the group chat, where they were discussing who should bring what to Bellamy’s place. But the blonde was like a magnet and so his eyes flickered over to her every few seconds. He couldn’t let go. And he didn’t want to, especially when he noticed that she kept gazing at him as well. Maybe she had the same thoughts about him as he about her? Maybe he should just get up and talk to her? What was the worst that could happen? That she rejected him and told him that she was in a relationship and didn’t want anything but being nice with the smile she had sent him? Yeah, that could definitely be the worst to happen. On the other side, maybe she was single and flirting with him? This was the possibility Bellamy definitely prefered.
If he wanted to talk to her he had to grow some balls and do it fast. He had only a few stops before he exit and he didn’t know where she was about to leave. Bellamy licked his lips and had gathered enough courage to stand up, when the woman sitting next to him got out of her seat - leaving the spot next to him empty. Bellamy’s heart stopped beating, his eyes flickered towards the blonde but she wasn’t there anymore. He started to panic and was halfway standing when he caught her, standing right next to him. She licked her lips and with the sweetest smile in the world she pointed at the seat next to him and probably asked, if it was free. He didn’t know for sure because he still had his earphones plugged it. Hesitantly he nodded, feeling too overwhelmed to get out whole words. He tried to, but he just felt a crack in the back of his throat and pressed his lips into a thin smile instead.
The blonde took the seat and the first thing Bellamy recognized washer perfume, when it covered him up in a sweet cloud of vanilla and something else. Something he couldn’t describe but loved immediately. It made his heart race. It was flattering in his chest, jumping hard against his bones, trying to break free. His stomach turned upside down, the heat flushed through his body, making his palms sweaty. He shortly smiled at the blonde before turning his gaze away. He definitely needed some time to process this. A beautiful good looking woman sat right next to him in the streetcar. And judging by her smiles she had give him earlier, she wasn’t averse of him. She definitely was interested!
Okay, don’t panic Bellamy. Don’t. panic. Bellamy felt his fingers started to shake, so he grabbed harder on his phone. While his eyes were reading his friends’ messages, he didn't really read them. His mind was too fuzzy, too consumed by the woman’s presence. Bellamy tried not to breathe in her perfume too deeply because it would only make it harder to form a clear thought. Okay. Alright, he got this, right? He just needed to say something to her. Anything.!
Bellamy licked his lips and risked a gaze out of the corner of his eyes towards the blonde. Hesitatingly he let his eyes slip away to her hands. His heart pounded louder while searching for a sign of a boyfriend or husband feverishly. He tried to lean a little forward, as discreet as possible, which was almost impossible and felt his heart jumping up high when he realized she wasn’t wearing any wedding band.
No ring. That’s good. Okay, now get yourself to say something! He yelled at himself and breathed out as quietly as possible. He rubbed his hands against the pants. God damn, did someone turned up the heating or was it just him who felt this hot? What should he say? A ‘hello’ or ‘hi’ didn’t feel good enough, but he wasn’t the type of guy who greeted women with stupid pick-up lines. So his only choice was to say ‘hello’, right?
No, ‘hello’ was - it was too weak. Way too weak.
His hand wandered through his mob of hair, almost desperate because somehow he knew what to say but nothing came out. He could see her glancing at him and he even caught her peeking at his phone, like she wanted to see who he was writing with. A girlfriend maybe? He licked his lips, while his eyes wandered off a little too far and they both looked at each other. She was so close right now. If he would been an ass he could kiss her so easily. Way too easily. So easily that he was tempted to do so, especially since his eyes betrayed him and fell onto her lips for a split second. He swallowed and felt his mouth curling into a smile, looking back into her blue eyes and helplessly drowning into them. He almost let out a small groan but could hold it back last minute She kept smiling back at him. Shyly and flirtatious at the same time.
But just as him, she didn’t say anything.
#bellarke#the 100#clarke griffin#bellamy blake#bellarke fanfiction#the 100 fanfiction#oneshot#modern au#Bellamy POV#enjoy
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Wildest Dreams // Part 3
Summary: Nesta has finally gotten the chance to get away from her small hometown of Prythian, and move to the big city of New York. She knows it won’t be easy to adjust to this new, independent life of hers, especially with an overprotective boyfriend constantly stressing her out. Cassian has lived in the city for a little less than a year, along with the rest of his Inner Circle of friends, and life couldn’t be better. When Nesta moves into the apartment next door though, many things change.
Tags: @highladyfxyre @fiery-feyre @justasimplereader @my-life-is-a-drama-book @eternally-reading @rhysand-and-rowan @the-bookish-soul @emdig2001@reinakatarina @wolffrising @ifinallygavein @blxckbeak @watermelonwiggle17@live-the-fangirl-life @disneyaddict27 @yourejustassaneasiam3 @rebelangel36@joepesci-isfine @photofeesh @little-eidolon @escapingtheconstrictingboxes@highladyoferilea @angelina-figjam @pattyb324-blog @gofoxyrself
If you’d like to be tagged feel free to send me an ask! Once I get it you will be added to the list! If I’ve forgotten you it was an accident and I’m so sorry! Message me and I can fix it!❤️
Note: If I could combine this chapter and the last one I definitely would, and I’ve been so overwhelmed with life outside of Tumblr lately it’s insane. I promise that starting with the next part and on, you will get all of the nessian feels! Not gonna lie, this is just a build up chapter but I hope you enjoy it anyways! And if anyone wants to be taken off the tag list let me know I understand!💕
Part 1, Part 2
Nesta groaned as she collapsed onto her couch, staring outside at the still cloudy sky. If every day was going to look like this, she might go crazy. She preferred staying inside and being reserved, but she still liked to have some sunlight filtering into the room, and so far she was getting none.
Her phone began ringing from where it lay on the kitchen counter, and she forced herself to stand up and retrieve it. When she saw Feyre’s name across the screen, she took a deep breath and answered, even though she didn’t want to.
“Hello?”
“Nesta! Hey, are you going to be at your apartment tonight?” Feyre sounded anxious, which only made Nesta nervous.
“Um, yes, where else would I be?”
Her sister was silent for a moment, but when she responded, Nesta could practically hear the smile on her face. “Okay, well you know that guy I’ve been…seeing?”
It took Nesta a moment, but she remembered hearing something every now and then about a guy. Feyre never went into much detail, but Nesta didn’t really care.
“Yes, what’s his name again? Ronald?”
“Rhysand. But he likes to be called Rhys.” Feyre was clearly trying to hide her annoyance, but quickly got over it and regained her joyful mood. “Okay, well he invited me into the city tonight to go to some bar called Velaris. I think it’s only a few blocks from your apartment, but would you like to come? He’s inviting a couple of his friends too so you wouldn’t-“
“No.” Nesta cut her off, sliding into the barstool at the kitchen counter and resting her arms on the marble surface.
“Wait, why?” Feyre asked, and there was a hint of concern in her voice which made Nesta roll her eyes.
“I can’t go out. I don’t know when Thomas is going to be-“
“Nesta you need to stop that.” The tone her sister had made Nesta stop. She had never heard her sound so demanding, especially to her.
“Excuse me?” Nesta almost growled, furrowing her brows in confusion.
“Thomas doesn’t control you, Nesta. Sure, he has a wealthy family and he gets everything he wants, but he doesn’t get you. You aren’t his property. Remember what you told me when I was with Tamlin.”
Tamlin. It had been a while since she had heard Feyre say his name. He had been a controlling snob, and Nesta had acted like she didn’t care, even though she wanted to throw a brick at him every time he came to their house. It finally got bad, and Feyre realized how he was treating her, so thankfully, she ended it.
“Feyre…”
“No. Nesta I know you act like you don’t care and you push everyone away, but why are you keeping him around? He’s bad for you-“
“Don’t tell me who’s good and bad for me. I can figure that out-“
Feyre made a frustrated sound and cut her off again. “Nesta, just promise me you’ll be careful with him. He’s taking advantage of you, and as much as you might think it’s okay, it’s not.”
Nesta didn’t want to argue any further, so she sighed and murmured, “Fine.”
“You’re coming tonight, okay? I’ll come to your apartment at eight and we can walk together.” Feyre’s voice was softer, and Nesta could hear the pleading as she spoke.
“Okay,” she said, running a hand through her hair as she stood from the barstool and headed towards her bedroom.
Feyre said, “See you then,” and hung up.
Throwing her phone onto her bed, she collapsed into the soft mattress, listening as it began to rain outside.
For some reason, Nesta’s mind went to her neighbor, Cassian. She hadn’t expected her neighbor to be so…young.
No, not young. Gorgeous.
She had tried to keep her eyes off of him throughout their entire encounter, worried that if she looked at him she would get stuck staring all day. Something about him was so intriguing, but Nesta didn’t know what.
She shook her head, erasing her thoughts about a man she didn’t even know, and instead thought about Thomas. He didn’t tell her when he was coming back, and she knew he wouldn’t give her any warning. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she wanted to go out with Feyre tonight. The two of them never really hung out, and she wanted to make sure this Rhysand guy wasn’t another Tamlin.
Grabbing her phone, she set a reminder to get ready at seven, and turned on the TV, wrapping a blanket around herself to relax.
~
Cassian smiled for a full ten minutes, just sitting with his back against his door, thinking about how lucky he was. Nesta. Her name was on repeat in his head, and all he wanted to do was knock on her door and introduce himself properly, which did not involve running into each other on the sidewalk.
He pushed himself from the door and tossed his gym bag onto the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. His phone began to buzz, and he picked it up when he saw Rhys’s name.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Cass, do you still want to meet Feyre?” He asked, and Cassian could hear the sound of an elevator door, meaning that Rhys had just gotten to his apartment.
“Of course, why?”
“Well, I invited her to Velaris tonight, so I was wondering if you and Az would like to come? She’s bringing one of her sisters, and I need to make a good first impression.” Cassian wanted to laugh at how nervous Rhys sounded. He had never been the worried type when it came to dates, but for some reason this girl made that side of him come out.
Cassian nodded, then realized Rhys couldn’t see it. “Yea, of course I’ll come. What time?”
“I told her we could meet at eight because her sister lives in the city and they wanted to walk together.”
“Sounds good,” Cassian smiled, and headed through the hallway into his bedroom.
“I’ll see you then,” Rhys answered, and they both said their goodbyes before ending the call.
Cassian was excited to finally meet this girl who had stolen Rhys away from him and Azriel. They hadn’t hung out nearly as much as they used to since she had come along, but Cassian knew that if she made Rhys happy, it was all worth it.
He wondered what Nesta was doing right now, on the other side of the thin apartment wall. He couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was. Her attitude could use some getting used to, but maybe if he asked her out for lunch they could get to know each other.
Stupid plan, he thought, running a hand through his hair as he pulled his shirt over his head. His clothes were still sweaty from the gym, despite him showering, and he needed to change if he was going out tonight.
He looked at his phone to see it was two-thirty and sighed. He had so much time.
He changed into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, collapsing on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. He wondered if Feyre’s sister could be a possibility for him, but then that would just be awkward. Maybe he needed to wait another couple years before getting his hopes so high.
Nesta seemed…different though. She was intriguing, and when normally girls would swoon over him, she only gave him sass. He urged himself to stop thinking about her because there was nothing to think about. They were nothing but strangers. She didn’t know him and he didn’t know her.
Before he could think too hard about it, he dozed off, sleep easily finding him once again.
~
At seven o’clock, Nesta’s alarm went off, and she immediately got to work getting ready. Her red cocktail dress hung from her bedroom door handle, and she turned on her curling iron in the bathroom.
She didn’t care too much about making a good first impression, but after what Tamlin had done to Feyre…she wanted to make it clear that if anyone harmed her sister she wouldn’t be a coward. Not like last time.
Tamlin had been controlling to the point where he wouldn’t let Feyre hang out with friends, and sometimes even Nesta and Elain. As she thought about it, Nesta could relate to their toxic relationship in a lot of ways she never realized. Thomas was very much like Tamlin, and he didn’t trust her at all. He also hated when she went out with friends or talked to anyone he didn’t personally know.
She needed to end it, and she knew that, but she just needed to find the right time. Thomas would be furious, and she didn’t want him to take it out on anyone else.
She quickly changed into her dress, smoothing out the few wrinkles and then headed into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup.
By the time she had applied a small amount of mascara and blush, her phone buzzed and the screen lit up with a text from Feyre. Nesta looked in the mirror, adjusting her hair a little and finally deciding it was good enough.
She hurried out of her room, grabbing her heels as she went, and opened the entry door to reveal Feyre dressed in a black dress. As usual, she looked beautiful, and Nesta gave her sister a smile.
“You look amazing,” she said softly, watching her sister’s eyes scan her own dress.
“So do you,” she chuckled, and they both made their way down the hall.
They made their way into the elevator, and once they reached the lobby they walked outside, the city lights nearly blinding. Nesta hadn’t been out at night yet, and she was surprised to see so many people out and about. She figured New York City was more alive at night, especially with all the clubs and bars there were.
“So…have you met anyone yet?” Feyre’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Nesta turned to face her sister.
“I met my neighbor earlier and I can tell he’s going to be a pain in my ass.” Nesta rolled her eyes just at the thought, and then her heart pounded faster as it wouldn’t go away.
“What’s his name?” Feyre asked, excitement in her blue grey eyes.
“Cas-“
A loud honk cut her off, and they both jumped back from the cross walk as a car came zooming past. Nesta made an obscene gesture as it drove off, and Feyre giggled from beside her.
“You’re going to have a hard time fitting in, aren’t you?” She drawled, and Nesta groaned.
“Maybe.”
Velaris came into view as they rounded the corner, and Nesta saw Feyre smile from her side. It had been a while since she had seen her so…happy. They weren’t even inside yet and her sister was getting all flustered. Nesta wasn’t sure whether she should be concerned or excited.
A warm breeze welcomed them as they entered, and music drifted through the air as they weaved their way through the crowds. Feyre glanced at her phone and Nesta could see Rhysand’s name on the screen.
“They’re over there,” she pointed to the corner of the room where several tables were set up.
Nesta followed her sister and finally made it to their table. Feyre embraced who she assumed was Rhys, but Nesta’s eyes were stuck on another person at the table, and his eyes were locked on hers.
Cassian.
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i’m on an angst kick and memory loss!AU calls to me like no other
“Oh! Miss Caldina was right!” Sakura cried in delight, pulling Syaoran along with her. “The city skyline is beautiful at night!”
There was no arguing it. The shimmering lights of the modern city were breathtaking from their vantage point at some tourist sightseeing cliff face. They were a few miles out and had a great view of the impossibly tall buildings and all their dancing lights, like stars stolen from right out of the sky. Since losing his memories, Kurogane had been to many cities like this one, but he’d never seen any the way they were seeing this one now. He found himself hoping he wouldn’t have to forget this one day as well.
Hanging back, he watched Syaoran, Sakura, and Mokona lean on the safety railing, gazing out at the skyline in awe. Sakura and Syaoran’s fingers were comfortably intertwined with each other and upon noticing Kurogane felt that inexplicable, powerful pang of satisfaction, like one would feel after a hard job well done. He knew that the two kids -- young adults really, old enough to think about settling down by his wager -- had had to fight tooth and nail for the happiness they enjoyed now, and Kurogane was sure he had played some part in all of that, but he couldn’t imagine it would have been enough to warrant such a reaction.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Fai said beside him. “Seeing them so happy. You don’t remember, but I know you love them and want them happy all the same,” he added with a sly smile.
Kurogane didn’t see anything to deny about what Fai had said. “How does it make you feel?”
Fai shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll ever have words for it,” he admitted, and Kurogane could understand the feeling. “Some days I still wake up and think this might have all been a dream.”
Even now, months after waking to the unfamiliar faces of people who claimed to love him, he still knew next to nothing about Fai, where he had come from before joining their small, traveling family, or who he’d been to all over them in their early days of travel. He knew there was a lot of pain hiding in the past, especially where Fai was concerned, but Kurogane wanted to know, even if he’d never really remember.
“Don’t suppose you’re ever going to tell me why you feel that way,” Kurogane said, trying to make it sound offhanded.
The smile Fai gave him was sad but honest. “You don’t want to know those things,” he said. “They only hurt, and they’re behind us.”
“You told me before, didn’t you?” he pressed, latching on to Fai’s train of thought. He didn’t know why it was so important to him that he know Fai’s past as well as their shared past. Kurogane was not a man that cared about where people came from, it was more important where they were going, but it just wouldn’t stop niggling him. “Why won’t you tell me now?”
Something painful came over Fai’s face and for a moment his eyes for focused somewhere far away from Kurogane. “I never told you,” he finally admitted. “You were shown by someone else.”
The flatness of Fai’s voice was enough to have Kurogane drop the subject. It wasn’t that important.
--
Kurogane’s nightmares were things of smoke and fire, the air was always filled with screams and ash and he could feel himself burning away inside and out. Everything would be red and he would be calling names, looking for familiar faces, praying that when he met their eyes they were still looking back at him.
He had never had a nightmare about snow before, where the silence was more deafening than anything he’d heard from a demon. There was no red -- fire or blood or evil eyes glowing through the smoke and shadow. In fact, there was no color at all. Grey was all there was, shades of it. This nightmare was different than all the others, except for one thing.
He was still burning.
It was cold, though. The burn was not fever or flames, but ice creeping into emptiness. It was a sense of complete hopelessness overwhelming him, burning away everything that he was until all that was left was a husk of a person. It was terrifying. He tried to scream, to call for help, but he had no strength, he could only lay there in the snow and let the grey surround him and swallow him and erase him.
He couldn’t give up, but he couldn’t fight. He needed help, he needed to help...
... to help... someone... some...one...
Kurogane felt the scream more than heard it as he jerked awake. When he opened his eyes the suffocating world of his nightmare was gone and it was replaced by blue.
“Fai.”
“Yeah, it’s me, Kuro-sama,” Fai said. He looked worried, bordering terrified really. He was gripping Kurogane’s arms tightly and was all but sitting in his lap, both of them tangled in Kurogane’s bed sheets as if there had been a struggle.
Slowly, it dawned on him that Fai must have been trying to wake him up. “What was I-”
“You were calling my name,” Fai said. That look was back again, the one that was sad because of something Kurogane didn’t remember. It didn’t make him as angry as it used to, but Kurogane knew it would always hurt to see. Fai loosened his grip on Kurogane’s arms. It was still dark outside and Kurogane hoped he hadn’t woken the children with his ridiculous screaming. “What were you dreaming about?”
Sighing, he sat up more and didn’t shoo Fai off his lap, taking comfort from the warm weight of his friend. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “It was jumbled. Everything was cold and covered in snow, and I was alone and trapped even though there weren’t any chains I-- I knew I was trapped.”
The harder he thought about the dream the more he could remember about it. It was the first time in months memories were coming back to him when he chased after them, so he didn’t let up. In his lap, Fai was silent.
“It was a punishment,” he continued slowly, the worlds coming as realizations. It was like a memory that wasn’t his emerging from the haze that constantly clouded swaths of his mind. “A punishment for something we hadn’t even done.”
He paused when he realized there had been a second person there. In the tower, so far away and just as alone. There had been other people too. “There were corpses. People who had been killed, thrown in as punishment as well.”
Suddenly, flashes of it all came rushing at Kurogane. Two young boys, innocent and frightened and helpless. Unfairness and blame, bodies raining from the sky. A dark man who spokes twisted words of half truths and lies. The need for help. The need to help... the one he had needed to help in the dream, the one in the tower. The reason he had been calling for Fai.
“You’re not Fai,” Kurogane said, his voice disturbingly plain for the realization. “That isn’t your name.”
Chancing a look up he saw unshed tears shimmering in blue eyes.
“You never met him,” he said. “My brother died when we were still young.”
Kurogane reached out a hand, slowly, as if he were reaching out to a wounded animal, and wiped away the tears with no small amount of reverence. “I know.”
Fai had stayed the rest of the night with him, neither of them had gotten any more sleep, but they hadn’t spoken any more either. Memories continued to accost Kurogane throughout the night and by morning his head was pounding and his mood was foul. When Mokona summoned Watanuki he let Fai do all the talking.
“Why does he remember those things?” Fai hissed. Perhaps they should have left this to the kids. “Of all the slip ups you could have made, you had to leave him with my scars?”
For his part, Watanuki did look wholly apologetic, possibly even a bit heartbroken, but Kurogane had a hard time feeling charitable at the moment. He was with Fai on this. If he was going to remember something from his past travels why this? Why not something kinder? Or at least more useful?
“They aren’t his memories,” Watanuki said after Sakura had ushered Fai to the side. “They’re yours, Fai-san, and so they were not his to give as payment. They will remain with him.”
There was not much to be said after that. Watanuki exchanged a few words with Syaoran and Sakura before Mokona disconnected and all eyes were on Kurogane and Fai, but the two adults were already retreating and none of them were surprised.
The morning sunlight shining through Kurogane’s bedroom window betrayed the mood surround he and Fai. He didn’t want to talk about this, but he wanted these memories hanging between them even less.
“You intended to kill me,” he said without preamble.
“We all see how good a job I did with that,” Fai said and Kurogane almost laughed. From would-be assassin to would-be husband. It was a bit funny. Or it would be in a few days after he had some time to let all of this new information settle into his world view.
He could tell, knew it in his gut, that Fai had never actually made an attempt at his life. Kurogane knew it like he knew his own name. Fai had been right the other night, though. He hadn’t wanted to know any of those things. The pain of Fai’s memories had begun filling in the empty spaces left by Kurogane’s missing ones. It ached and raged in his chest, made all the worse by the knowledge that he was separated by those responsible by so many years and worlds. The only comfort he had in this was the knowledge that everyone person who had hurt Fai was now dead.
Kurogane had more questions, but he wasn’t sure if either of them were able to handle the answers without breaking after the morning they had just had. No for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Kurogane cursed the fates.
“Well,” Fai finally said. “Know you know everything.”
He’d been wrong. He wasn’t able to handle anything more right now without breaking. Unfortunate.
“What the hell do you mean?” he snapped, rounding on Fai in an instant. “I don’t know anything!”
Fai stared up at him with a mix of disbelief and frustration and opened his mouth to speak, but Kurogane wasn’t finished.
“All I know is how you’ve suffered,” he said, voice low and rumbling with fury. “I don’t know anything of your life, of our life.” He saw the understanding slowly dawning on Fai’s face as he spoke. “You speak of how this all feels like a dream sometimes, but you never tell me why. You’ve told me you love me, but you won’t tell me why.”
He wanted to understand Fai, but in hiding his pain so steadfastly he’d hidden everything from Kurogane. How was he supposed to find the man he had once loved if Fai kept him hidden all the time...
#KuroFai#TRC#SyaoSaku#spoilersTRC#my fics#memory loss!AU#kurogane just wants to remember loving fai but fai is a difficult and stupid man
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