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aeoki · 2 years

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[Idol Story] Kanata Shinkai - Sweets Groovy

Location: Seisou Hall Kitchen Characters: Kanata & Niki Season: Autumn Writer: Maiko Nishioka (Happy Elements) Unlocked in: [Taste of a New Dish] Kanata Shinkai

TL Note:

Seppuku (切腹): A form of ritual suicide where samurai warriors stab their stomach in order to retain their honour, as opposed to dying at the hands of the enemy.

Even raindrops can penetrate a rock (雨だれ石を穿つ): A Japanese proverb meaning constant effort will result in success.

Kanata: *Hm hm hmm* ♪

Let’s “mix” it together well. Make a “circle” like the “pattern” of a blue-ringed octopus~ Circle circle~♪

Hmm? Who is that? So noisy~ I’m finally having a fun time “cooking”. I would like you to be “quiet”.

Niki: W-What’s goin’ on!? This smell… it stinks!

Kanata: Ohh. It’s Niki. You were the “source” of the “footsteps”. Hello~☆

Niki: Gyah! What’s with this disastrous scene!?

There’s a lot of stuff with fish sticking out of it all lined up on the table and it looks like a scene straight outta hell! The fishy smell is also awful!

Hm…? *Sniff, sniff* I’m getting a deadly whiff and a faint butter, milk and chocolate scent…?

What’s… this trapezoid-looking object with lots of shishamo fish sticking out of it…?

Kanata: This would be sea anemone chocolate.

Niki: S-Sea anemone chocolate!?

Kanata: Yes. It is actually a chocolate “flavoured” “cupcake” decorated with shishamo fish, to be precise. I was making “cookies” just now~♪

Niki: Chocolate, cupcakes and cookies? N-no… there’s no way…

Then, you’re saying the objects here are all food!? You didn’t just torture these fish!?

Kanata: How rude~ Hmph. I won’t do such a thing to the “fishes”. I’m making delicious “sweets”.

Niki: No no! If you were, it wouldn’t look as disastrous as this, right?

By the way, Shinkai-kun, weren’t you making lunch in the kitchen dorm during the “Old-Fashioned Sports Festival”? If you were then how come–

(Hm? Wait a minute… Now that I think about it,)

(I think Shinkai-kun and Tenshouin-kun were more or less like assistants and the one who did most of the cooking was actually Kazehaya-kun…)

(Don’t tell me Kazehaya-kun knew this disaster was gonna happen and protected the peace of the kitchen!? He truly is just like an invincible guardian deity…!)

Kanata: I suppose we did make “lunch boxes” during the “Old-Fashioned Sports Festival” together.

I became more “interested” in “cooking” after making “chocolate” during “Chocolate Fest” last year.

I’m “challenging” myself to making “sweets” today.

The “mackerel chocolate” I made during “Chocolate Fest” wasn’t very “popular”. It’s very strange, isn’t it?

But it can’t be helped. The outcome cannot be changed, after all.

That’s why I’m doing my best to make “sweets” that will be “popular” with everyone. I’m doing what you would call “revenge”.

But I was in a “pickle” because I didn’t have anyone to “taste test” for me. It would be “meaningless” if I made it and ate it myself.

This is the perfect timing. Niki, would you like to be my “taste tester”~?

Niki: T-Taste test!? I’m gonna have to eat this!? No no no no! No, thank you!

Kanata: Oh~ Why not? These are all “sweets” I put “all of my efforts” into. I’m sure they’ll be delicious~

Niki: No no! You’re lying, right!? No matter how positively you try to look at it, it’ll still be gross! You can’t even call this cooking. This is sacrilegious towards the ingredients–

(...Hm? Wait.)

(If… If I don’t become the taste tester… What will happen to these poor ingredients!? Will they be thrown into the rubbish bin just like that…!?)

U-Uu… Ughhhhhhh!

AaAAh! If you’re gonna abandon and waste these ingredients, then committing seppuku[1] would be better!

Fine! I’ll be your taste tester!

Kanata: Whaa ♪ Thank you very much~ I “made” many so please “eat” a lot~ Here, please enjoy ☆

Niki: Ugh… It smells awful. My saliva is gone and the inside of my mouth is really dry!

I’m familiar with these ingredients so they shouldn’t be inedible, but to think I’d hesitate…!

No no. Niki Shiina! Now’s the time to show how manly you are… There’s nothing in this world that isn’t edible ☆ Thanks for making this!

……………

Kanata: *Poke, poke… poke poke* Heey, Niki~?

Hmm. His “face” has gone “deathly pale”~

He ate all of it but by the looks of it, I didn’t succeed. It’s a shame.

Kanata: But I will not give up.

There is a saying that even “raindrops” can “penetrate” a “rock”[2].

All right, one more time at “revenge”. Let’s try this “challenge” again ☆

Niki: Please just graciously give it up! How are you so positive with this tragedy right in front of you!?

Kanata: Ah. Have you “woken” up? I’m glad to see you’re fine.

Niki: In my dream, I was trying to cross this beautiful river, but something like a strong sense of duty washed over me and I decided to turn back.

At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before someone from the dorm falls victim to Shinkai-kun’s cooking… As a chef, I really can’t deem something like this to be acceptable.

The kitchen is a place to make delicious food; it’s not supposed to be a murder scene.

That’s why I’ll help you make the sweets, Shinkai-kun!

Kanata: Hmm? I “feel” as though a lot of “rude” things were said towards me.

Well, it’s okay. It’s a good thing to have more “companions”.

“Ohisama” taught me the perfect “words” for such an occasion: it’s such “fine weather”, isn’t it? ♪

Kanata: *Clap clap clap* ☆ Niki, you’re amazing~

A tuna cutlet “rice bowl”, a sea bream “pie” and a “rice cracker” with crushed fish. There is also minced sardine “cookies”.

They look look so delicious~♪

Niki: Nahaha. I’m glad you’re satisfied with them~♪

But you helped too, Shinkai-kun. You mixed and kneaded the ingredients, so that was a huge help.

Kanata: Fufu. I might not have been “much help”, but it makes me “happy” to hear you say that.

Now then ☆

Niki: Hm? Shinkai-kun, why’re you rolling your sleeves up…?

Kanata: I don’t think I can unleash my “power” just by mixing and kneading the “ingredients”.

Niki: What…?

Kanata: And I have a few good “ideas” after watching you “cook”, Niki~

As “thank you” for making these delicious “sweets”, now, it’s my turn to show what “I can do”.

Niki: You’re not satisfied with just this!? Ah, wait– Stooooooop!

#enstars #enstars translation

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applepi00 · 2 years

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Six Sentence Saturday!!

Except it’s more than six sentences because I said so this week

Phantoms, Perfect Disaster, chapter 2, 0.3k

Chuuya sets fresh coffee down on the nightstand just in time to see his soon-to-be husband roll over as he wakes and immediately feel for his ring. Finding the metal band where it belongs, Dazai reaches next across the sheets to where Chuuya would be. Finding only cooling sheets, Dazai grumbles and blinks his eyes open. Chuuya can’t decide if this routine is heart-warming and amusing, or devastatingly sad. The dreams don’t stop, and most days they aren’t kind, but fuck if Chuuya wouldn’t walk to hell and back if it made reality a little softer, a little easier.

So he makes sure he’s present, ready with a soft word and gentle hand and a warm drink prepared just the way his darling mackerel likes. He would’ve bitten himself for this softness just a few years ago, the tenderness still hard fought for, but they deserve it, both of them. He’s gone soft since falling in love, but that isn’t a crime, it isn’t wrong despite how much his own defenses sometimes think it is.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #emi writes #six sentence saturday #phantoms #perfect disaster #skk #soukoku

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cinnamon-fam-studios · 2 days

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"Oats Grown by the Seaside" | A Clangen Story

(Author's Note: The first five chapters of my clangen fic is posted on ao3 & wattpad but I also wanted to post it on here because I already don't post on my tumblr enough)

Summary: After every tom, she-cat, those in between had fled from the devastating terror that two legs brought to their homeland, the greater clans themselves were scattered to only a few cats being able to band together for survival. Though there was hope to bring what culture they had left back to life. One of those small bands of cats were led by a tom named Oakfern, who was soon to be renamed to Oakstar by their ancestors. Though he seemed like the average tom, he would become one of those stepping stones of the rebuilding of the clans.

Prologue (Moon 0)

The sound of crickets echoed through the night as the wind gently blew the tall grass. The moon above the grass seemed to illuminate an unforeseen path through it. Though very few knew what the unmarked trail led to since none had walked it. Atleast until tonight, as a group of cats walked through the tall grass. They were allowing a dark ginger mackerel tom lead them as he followed the guidance of the moon. There were around ten cats in the group, though four of them were kittens. Yet none of these kittens shared blood with the other older felines or with each other. None of the cats shared kinship with each other by blood, only by trust they did. Each of them were from different backgrounds and places of the land they fled from. A disaster had been brought to the land they once called by creatures that called two-legs and their large monsters they controlled. They watched as great trees wore ripped from the ground like a blade of grass and dark icky liquids drained into the clear rivers. The grounds they had walked on for moons had been turned into gaping holes in the earth. It was something from nightmares yet it was all reality. Many cats and other animals had lost their lives and loved ones while losing their home at the same time. Nothing could be done besides fleeing. The four great clans that the cats had lived in for many moons were destroyed in less than two. Broken and separated, small groups of surviving cats collected themselves and no longer divided themselves by territories or clan descent at the moment. Their only goal was to survive and find a new home.

Which is what this small group was doing. The tom cat that led the group was named Oakfern. He and his childhood rival, Sporespirit, had escaped together when the two-leg’ monsters stormed their camp. With them, they had taken a kit named Shardkit, who’s mother had been one of the first to die at the hands of the monsters. Though disgruntled at first, the two tom and she-cat agree to parent the kit together. Three of them happened to run into a former medicine cat named Icechase and his clan member Archbranch, who also carried a kit with them named Chaffinchkit. Those two toms fled with the kit since he was the only surviving offspring of their dying clan. Unwilling to leave any cats behind, the six cats stuck together and hoped to find more survivors. Which they did, coming across a Rowandrizzle & Rainpaw, a mentor and apprentice who had hidden not too far from their destroyed camp. With those two joining their small group, the surviving clan cats quickly headed away from the land. Though they mourned their home, they couldn’t stay any longer. With only the guidance of the moon, the nine felines walked for what seemed like an entire moon. During their departure, they had discovered two kits who were seemingly left behind by two different unknown kittypets. Oakfern named them Houndkit and Amberkit, though they weren’t exactly clanborn. It didn’t matter to him though. As much as he wanted to rebuild a life for the cats that he traveled with, he wanted things to be different since some of the laws of the warrior code didn’t sit right with him. It was a rebellious claim but Oakfern didn’t care too much for traditions at the moment. It was almost survival and taking care of each other. Which is all that the tom cat wanted for his small group. Each of them were different and didn’t share an ounce of blood but he looked at them with reliability. He trusted all them and they trusted him.

As a sigh escaped him, his cyan eyes slowly looked up through the tall grass. The grass seemed to grow taller but it wasn’t exactly grass. They were stalks of oat plants. An odd thing to see but it’s what Oakfern could hear. The echo of rushing water filled his ears as he led the group into the oat field. The field didn’t stretch on too far because the ground under his paws turned from solid dirt to soft grains of sand. Confused, Oakfern raised his tail to tell the others to stop.

“Hold on everyone” spoke Oakfern, as his ears perked up.

“What’s the hold up?” asked Sporespirit, tilting her head.

“There is water up ahead” he stated, walking a few steps forward.

“Water? That’s not something to fuss about” commented Rowandrizzle.

“It sounds like a lot of water” uttered Archbranch.

“Is it another canal?” questioned Icechase.

“It sounds bigger than a canal,” claimed Oakfern. “Stay here while I investigate”

“Thank Starclan, my paws were getting tired from walking so much” sighed Rainpaw, as he flopped down on the ground.

The dark ginger tom chuckled lightly before turning his attention back to the sound. Oakfern continued to walk forward as he followed the sound of the water. The sand under paws was getting annoying but he soon became used to it as he walked. Though no sooner was he used to it, the ground under him changed. His paw pads landed on small rocks as he noticed a hole between the larger rocks. He flaked his claws on the stone he stood on before peeking his head into the hole. It was quite dark inside it but there seemed like enough space for his entire body to fit in. Not only that but he couldn’t touch the ceiling or feel the walls closing in around him. The hole was less of the tunnel than what he expected and more of an opening into the clearing of a cave. Going further in, Oakfern let the sound of water lead him but also the faint of glow further into the cave. The rocks under his paws were cool and dry to the touch compared to the wet and sticky earth that he and the other cats had been traveling on through Leaf-bare. Though the tom expected to feel some sorta of wetness since the rushing water got louder and louder. It was roaring at this point but still seemed so far away. Though he was able to find the source of it when he found a high perch at what looked like a window of the cave just a bit higher that allowed moon light to leak in. Oakfern padded over to the hole in the stone and looked up at the moon. It was high in the sky and the tom was drawn to its light. Though his eyes were also drawn to what moon hung above. It was water, a whole lot of water. Scrabbling to pull himself through the hole, the russet tom curiously exited the cave and headed towards the massive source of water. He couldn’t see where it stopped or started as his paws were met with sand again. Standing at the edge of the water, a small wave came up and lapped at his paws, causing the sand under his feet to become soaked and stick to them. Oakfern shook it off before bending down to lap back at the water. Yet he was met with an icky salty taste. This was nothing like any water he’s tasted. It tasted horrible. He hissed and spat it out of his mouth, looking around to rid of the disgust feeling on his tongue. As he whipped his head around, a glow figure appeared out the corner of his eyes further down on the sand plains. It was another cat but they glowed and stars decorated their pelt. His ears perked up in surprise as he turned into the direction the small cat stood. They tilted their head to the side before turning away, their tail gesturing for Oakfern to follow them. As if being guided by this unknown star cat, the tom’s feet were already moving before he knew it. The starry pelted cat led him back towards the hole in the rocks he climbed out of but walked outside of it along the wall of smooth rocks. They then lead Oakfern up what looked like a hill of stones. Reaching the top of it was something that the tom didn’t expect to see. The ground was gritty under him but didn’t stick to him. There was even greenery and foliage growing around the clearing. There were openings between the rocks of the area that could be fit for dens. In the middle of the oddly placed clearing was a water source made up of different shallow pools since there were small stones that created small bridges that divided them. There was a small part of the divided pools that bled down into a small waterfall. Hesitantly this time, Oakfern walked over to it and dipped his tongue into it. It was freshwater, which he happily lapped up to cleanse his tongue. After having his fill, Oakfern’s cyan eyes looked back to where the starry cat stood. They were laid across a smooth rock in front of a large den. They stood up and padded over to Oakfern before leaning forward and pressing their nose to the tom’s.

“Bring the others here” they whispered.

A shiver passed through Oakfern’s body as he blinked slowly. Yet with that blink is when the small cat disappeared. He whipped his head around in confusion, realizing he was standing in the clearing alone. His eyes looked upwards, outwards towards where he had come from, a large body of salty water was and the moon reflecting against his cyan eyes. This was the place, this was the place where he would build a new life. A new clan with companions. A new feeling grew in his heart as he looked up towards the shallow cliff that stood at the other end of the clearing. He climbed up it quickly and trotted quickly through the cave once more and out the hole he originally entered through. It didn’t take him long to find his companions once more as they lounged in the oat field. Sporespirit was the first to spot him as he returned, standing to her feet.

“There you are, what did you find?” she asked.

“Our new home” proclaimed Oakfern, with a smile on his face.

“Really?” she replied, her green eyes becoming wide.

“Yes! Come with me, everyone” nodded Oakfern.

Confused but curious looks were exchanged as the other cats stood up. Oakfern led them over back to the hole he found and guided them with his voice to the clearing that the starry pelt cat had guided him to. They were awed at the luck of being able to find such a place. The four kits, that happened to be tired just moments before, were happily exploring the dens and the clearing that was to be their home. Rowandrizzle seemed to examine the shallow pools of water before being accidentally splashed by Rainpaw. The apprentice gave his mentor an apologetic look, yet was splashed back by the dark gray tom. A noticeable chuckle arose from Archbranch as he sat close by to Icechase, who was inspecting one of the dens' claims. Oakfern and Sporespirit watched them from afar as they explored their new home.

“This is actually a perfect spot, how did you find this place?” spoke Sporespirit, looking over at the tom.

“Well, surprisingly, I think Starclan did. A glowing cat appeared while I was standing on the beach and led me here” explained Oakfern, as he looked towards the moon.

“They told me to bring you all here as well,” he added.

“I see,” hummed Sporespirit, “Do you know what that might mean?”

“I’m not completely sure, but I have a hunch,” replied Oakfern.

There was a pause between the two cats, as they looked over at the moon.

“Do you think I would make a good leader?” asked Oakfern.

“I do, especially after you were able to take charge so easily after we left the old forest” nodded Sporespirit.

“Yeah but only with your help, I feel I would have lost my mind without your dumb quick thinking skills” claimed Oakfern.

“Of course, you can never do anything without the great Sporespirit to be there” bragged Sporespirit.

“Oh shut up, you” remarked Oakfern, playfully.

“As if I would ever” smirked Sporespirit, flicking the tom cat with her tail.

The two former rivals lightly bickered with each other, for old time sake. It was strangely comforting for them to be able to relax after traveling for nearly two moons straight from their old lands to find safety. They relied on each other more now while their rivalry had subdued to kind friendship. Especially with having to raise one of the living kits from their clan together. Speaking of so, Shardkit padded over to the pair and curled up into Sporespirit’s stomach. Her expression softened as she leaned down to lick the kit's head.

“I should go help Icechase put the kits to sleep” she spoke as she picked up Shardkit by her scruff, “And you should do the same, leader”

“Oh not yet, I would need the confirmation from Starclan if they would truly accept us taking shelter and to start a new clan” sighed Oakfern.

“I don’t doubt that they have already accepted you” smiled Sporespirit.

Oakfern returned the soft smile before giving a goodnight lick to Shardkit before watching the she-cat carry the kit off where the former medicine cat ushered the kits into a den. His eyes softened to the sight as yawned escaped him. He hadn’t realized how tired he was now. The tom stretched out his body before turning towards the large den he sat in front of. He walked inside and curled up just at the back of it. His fur rubbed against the cool stone, allowing his body to relax into slumber and lulled into the comfort of his dreams.

…

As he dreamt, Oakfern found himself wandering through the landscape of starry void, with a few trees decorating across it. It was nearly silent with no wind or rusting of foliage. Only the hushed twinkling of the stars around him. This was Silverpelt. The tom felt his heart jump in his throat as he realized that there could be two different reasons for being in the place. Though the reason was quick to surface as he noticed a single starry pelted cat sitting not too far in a clearing. It was the small cat that had guided him to the shelter in the cave. The cat slowly stood to their paws as they walked over to Oakfern. It felt odd since he had never seen this cat before yet felt a sense of reunion when they approached, like an old friend.

“Hello again, Oakfern, I’m Greenpaw,” spoke the small cat, proudly.

“An apprentice?” muttered Oakfern, confused.

“Yes, but dying young doesn’t make me less wise,” nodded Greenpaw, “But I’m not here to scold you”

“I am meeting with you tonight to give you a gift but we shall meet again one day, and so will all the cats that will be under your care” they proclaimed.

Just as they had done earlier, Greenpaw stepped forward and pressed their nose to Oakfern’s. Instead of a cold shiver this time, a warm filled weld up into the tom’s chest and head. His eyes grew wide as white light illuminated them, allowing him to suddenly see a small crowd of starry cats who were best to be clan ancestors standing behind Greenpaw.

“Take our gift to see dawn behind the darkness,” said Greenpaw, with a smile.

One of the cats from the crowd that stood behind Greenpaw, walked forward and placed a paw upon the young cat’s shoulder. They began to speak at the same time Greenpaw did. So did all the other cats in the shallow crowd behind them, shaking Oakfern to his core.

“We give your remaining eight lives, promise to use them well with our blessings”

“I will”

…

The dark ginger mackerel tom slowly blinked his eyes open and outstretched his body, yawning tiredly. His legs were splayed out but he stood up weakly. He shook whatever tiredness was left him as he stood up. A haze of light shone outside the entrance of them. He made his way over to it and looked out in the shelter clearing. Sitting by the shallow waterfall was Icechase, who seemed to be the only one awake at the moment. The white furred tom had his eyes closed as he basked in the morning sun. The russest tom walked over to him and sat next to the medicine cat.

“Good morning, Icechase” greeted the tom.

Icechase opened one eye to look over at him before turning his head towards him completely.

“Good morning,” he spoke, slowly, “Oakstar”

#clangen #clan generator #clan gen game #warriors #warrior cats #warriors oc #erin hunter warriors #original characters #fan writing #fandom #writing

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lordreconnaissance · 5 months

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Oracle

Terrible silence.

Worried glances.

A chill in the air.

"You see this card?" Oracle murmured, gesturing to an image of a crumbling castle. "That's The Tower. It represents catastrophe. Paired with the Three of Swords, it's a very grim reading. And over here," she continued, scooting to the other side of the desk, "the opal, representing thieves, and the fish hook--we all know what that means--landed in the upper right quadrant. That half of the circle represents the future. Grief, suffering, disaster, your highnesses!"

"What do we do about this?" Sasha asked seriously. "How do we avoid this terrible fate?"

"Yes," said Eclipse, "what do we to to..."

Her last words came out in a whisper.

"...not run out of fish?"

"We have a few options, but we're running out of time. You must hire a new fisherdragon, before it's too late."

Herra snorted sparks. "We all know what the Howl will do if it runs out of its mackerel supply." His wives shuddered.

"Fortunately, a fisherdragon is easy to find," Oracle said, rooting around in a drawer for a quill and paper. "These are the requirements as told to me by my readings today. Hire an elderly dragon, one who knows the trade like the back of his paw, and we will have nothing to fear."

Oracle's other head Cass, having slumbered this whole time, suddenly jerked awake. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing, sister. Go back to sleep."

Oracle passed the advertisement across the table to Herra, careful not to bump her candles. He took it in his paws solemnly.

"Thank you for your wisdom, Oracle. Because of you we will not run out of fish."

The lord and his wives turned as one and strode out of the chamber, dragons on a mission.

#flight rising #lore #the cube

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yo-anna0315 · 3 years

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Soukoku and a kiddo HCs

Some of this might refer to my own OC rather than just any kid, but anyway Dazai is still with the ADA, Chuuya is either the mafia boss or still an exec under Mori.

Chuuya has a fondness for stray kids and Dazai is impartial to orphans because of Odasaku, but neither of them plan on having kids or adopting because wow they have hectic lives and they themselves are very chaotic.

They’re also doing this new thing called can we have a functional relationship with each other? This includes Chuuya not turning to alcoholic tendencies every time he gets overwhelmed and Dazai not attempting to actively kill himself without going to Chuuya or someone else first, and the both of them trying to open up and trust each other more outside of combat.

Chuuya is probably walking home to one of his safehouses late at night, and some street kid comes and pickpockets him. And GETS AWAY with it. Chuuya is just shocked because excuse??? Some runt just came and picked his pocket??? He’s more amazed that someone would dare to pick his pocket and succeed rather than be annoyed. Well damn. The kid didn’t take anything important, just a bit of pocket change so Chuuya doesn’t care. But he’s impressed.

Dazai finds out when Chuuya mentions it over dinner and he’s DYING of laughter. He wants to meet this kid.

“Chibi got mugged!” “I didn’t get mugged, you asshole! I just said they stole some pocket change!” “Ah, Chibikko’s losing his touch. “You bastard!”

So Dazai does what Dazai does best and finds the kid without Chuuya even telling him a single thing.

“All I do is check the security cam footage you have around the safehouse, but that must be too big for your sheepdog brain to handle.”

The kid is a little snappy at first because who the fuck is this bandaged wearing idiot asking if they stole something. They live on the STREETS, what DON’T they steal? And then it clicks that they stole from a Port Mafia Executive. And Not just ANY PM Exec, they stole from the Gravity Manipulator.

The kid: “haha I’m in danger”

Dazai catches them and brings them back to Chuuya’s apartment and the kid is freaking out because oh my god, I’m going to lose my hand for stealing. Or worse! And Dazai is just so happy, what an asshole

“Chibi!” “What do you want, asshole?” “Look!” “Did you KIDNAP a fucking child!” “No, this is kid who stole from you, remember? The one who mugged you and stole your cash!” “You kidnapped a child.”

At this point the kid is in hysterics because why is he so happy? What’s going on? Are they going to die??? And then Chuuya, always the one with manners, is like I’m sorry my asshole boyfriend kidnapped you, can I make it up to you with dinner and a shower?

They’re not going to turn down free gifts, but they are extremely on edge. But Chuuya is a great cook and his shower is luxurious because he knows how to treat himself right (unlike a certain mackerel).

So the kid takes a shower first because hot water is utterly delightful and should never be wasted, they have two bowls of ramen and rice with nori sheets because hunger. Chuuya is appreciative because at least someone appreciates the hard work he puts into his food. Dazai is secretly relieved because he won’t have to eat the leftovers and he can just eat canned crab without feeling guilty.

Dinner and a shower turns into a night on the lounge in the study in safety and comfort, which turns into breakfast in the morning, which turns into dinner every few months and the cycle repeats until Dazai spills sake on the lounge and insists that the kid move into the spare bedroom for the night.

This kid is like okay wtf. Chuuya is exasperated, Dazai is scheming. Chuuya makes them have a sit down conversation because he’s trying to be better and the kid doesn’t need more dysfunction in their life. They extend an open invitation for the kid to come by whenever they want.

“Or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re not used to you at this point. And you haven’t run away screaming from us so we haven’t messed up yet.” “Dazai… what the fuck.”

Dazai and Chuuya agree to keep the kid away from the mafia, mostly Mori because Mori could use the kid as leverage over both Chuuya and Dazai and thas no bueno. (If Chuuya’s the mafia boss then he’ll probably keep the kid away from the mafia, unless they want in then he’ll sit down with them and have a talk to make sure they know what they’re getting into). So, Dazai gets a little shadow that just kind of loiters around the ADA.

Dazai trades completed paperwork for tutoring lessons from Kunikida when he has time, Yosano teaches them anatomy and basic first aid, Atsushi, Ranpo, Tanizaki, Naomi and Kenji get a new friend. Fukuzawa sometimes spends time enlightening the kid about politics and strategy and history, or watches over the kid when Dazai has to work on a case.

Kouyou finds out about the kid on accident and whisks the kid away to teach them etiquette and class and spoils them with shopping. Despite her loyalty to Mori, her fondness of Chuuya keeps her from outing the kid to the Boss.

At home, Chuuya teaches the kid martial arts and if they have an ability then Chuuya and Dazai team up to coach the kid through developing their power whatever it may be. Dazai also teaches the kid how to pick locks and psychology, like how to read body language, how to lie, how to get the truth from someone.

I feel like the kid wouldn’t completely abandon the streets, so they go visit old friends and bring left overs or snacks or water bottles to their friends still on the street.

Even though they don’t need to, the kid has connections through other street orphans so they can relay information to Dazai and Chuuya.

“There’s been this group trying to take over one of the ports, but we can’t find any intel on where their base is located or who they are.” “Oh, you mean the group of people taking shelter in one of the abandoned warehouses? They’re so rude.”

“The killer escaped, but they aren’t sure how.” “If you go down this alleyway, you can sneak over the wall. It’s hard, but once you figure out how to get over, it’s really easy to lose people.”

Dazai and Chuuya have a push and pull type of relationship. It’s balanced for the most part because they trust each other and know each other well, but sometimes it tips too much like when Dazai gets flighty and suicidal and refuses to tell anyone or when Chuuya starts falling back on alcohol, then it’s a little rocky. But I feel like having someone else to provide and care for and receive help and appreciation helps them to balance out.

I really like this headcanon because I’m a sucker for found families and Soukoku deserves to be happy dammit.

#do people get nervous about posting stuff?#soukoku #soukoku headcanons #headcanons #skk #bungou stray dogs #bsd #i LOVE found family tropes #also the thought of Dazai being responsible for another human being is amusing to me #because disaster mackerel #I would trust Chuuya with a kid #I would only trust Dazai with a kid if he had Chuuya #I bet Chuuya spent a lot of time with kyouka when she was PM #I might make a part 2 of this #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya

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bunchofstraydogs · 3 years

Text

BSD SKK and SSKK as Genshin Impact Players

because i finally lost my patience and deleted this damn game, so this is a Au revoir!

Atsushi Nakajima- Casual f2p team player

When i say casual, i mean in terms of him appreciating all the characters, the scenery, the lore and the effort that went into making all of it and being able to play the game with his friends.

Otherwise, there's nothing casual about his gameplay. He's surrounded by three Fatui guards on Dragonspine, slowly freezing to death. He is hesitant to eat food because there will be more important times to use it and food isn't all that cheap. He had eaten a few Sweet Madams and an Almond Tofu, though, because he's literally panicking and crying. In the end, Atsushi marks those spots on the map and leaves them for co-op.

He loves co-op, mostly to explore together and it usually happens in his world. He doesn't mind playing any role the team needs- dps, support or healer. Atsushi is usually on a discord call with Dazai, Kyouka, Ranpo and Lucy. Kenji and Yosano occasionally play as well.

As for his team, he is very loyal to Mondstadt and to people that showed him kindness when he first stumbled there so his most used characters are from Mondstadt.

Main Team: Mc, Jean, Noel, Bennet/Amber

Sub team: Qiqi, Razor, Keqing, Xingqiu

An Mc main.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke- Competitive and impatient

This disaster, i swear. Doesn't play it often, but when he does, he really makes up for the missed time. Unless he has a place to be, leisurely kills everything he comes upon. Not only is he stacked on materials (that he doesn't use properly), but he levels up like it's nobody's business. If he stumbles upon a Lay Line, he'll do them. He doesn't count resin, completely unbothered by primo or level difference.

Akutagawa is the type of player that will fight a level 90 monster with level 60 characters, but only if he has an elemental reaction advantage. He's not stupid, just stubborn and really angry.

I know i said he's not stupid (and he's not), but his builds are... not the best. Talent levels almost forgotten, artefacts leave much to be desired, but his weapons are stacked!! Although, usually given to wrong characters...

Fear not, when Gin and Chuuya figured it out, they fixed it up and explained to Aku what artefacts are and which ones to collect. He pays more attention to all of it now.

Akutagawa sometimes buys the monthly card and doesn't want to waste any more money than a few bucks on pixels. He sees the game as the waste of time and money.

That said, he waled for Xiao and Tartaglia.

Main team: Xiao, Tartaglia, Diluc, Rosaria

Doesn't have a sub team.

Mains Xiao.

Dazai Osamu- A waifu collector and a troll

Your typical genshin asshole. Goes to people's worlds, mines their ores, steals their food and leaves when done. He does it primarily to Atsushi and the poor guy doesn't know. Kyouka threatened him, but Atsu said he doesn't mind and is happy to help. Dazai is as much of a leech as a player as he is in person.

He not only trolls ADA members, but PM as well. Doesn't mind playing with Gin, but is mostly there to annoy Chuuya and pressure Akutagawa. They're playing in Akutagawa's world, obviously. Gin wouldn't let him in hers to protect her brother and, well. The only other player is Chuuya and hahahhaa.

Do i need to say that he is spending Kunikida's money on the game or is it obvious for you too? He waled for Ganyu and Hu Tao and almost got killed for it.

This lucky mofo, i hate him so much, got Mona as his first five star on the standard banner. He was wishing for her as well.

Wants Kaqing now but sike, you flat assed mackerel. Have another Xingqiu <3 Super jealous of Akutagawa for having Rosaria because he wanted her and failed to pull her. Got Childe he doesn't use tho lmao.

Main Team: Mona, Lisa, Ganyu, Hu Tao

Sub Team: Jean, Xinyan, Beido and Ningguang

A Mona and Hu Tao main.

yes i said Mona Lisa, bite me

Chuuya Nakahara- cool to play with until Dazai joins the chat

Chuuya is a great player. He is smart so he knows how to choose his battles and fearless when he does, even if he's going against Zhongli's chonkiest pokemon. He likes playing co op with some of his friends and subordinates. Often joins Akutagawa's world with Gin and either Higuchi or Tachihara. He really enjoys these moments because they forget about the mafia and get to have fun together and kick ass without hurting anyone.

These tranquil moments are ruined by one slimy mackerel. All Chuuya's qualities- teamwork, intelligence and casuallness goes out of the window. He is pissed and ready to throw hands. Dazai always baits him and tricks him into the most unsavoury of situations. Great many times will Chuuya drown due to lack of stamina, get rekt by Lawachurl and freeze to death, smack into invisible barriers with no ways of stopping untill he falls head first to the ground... yeah, hands are thrown. And tables.

Main Team: Diluc, Venti, Xiao, Albedo

Sub Team: Ningguang, Zhongli, Albedo, Geo Mc

Mains Diluc and Geo characters

It needs to be said that Chuuya has a weird guilty pleasure of playing Geo Characters. His Noel is tanked as well. Hates playing with Xiao and Venti when Dazai is around because that asshole bullies him-

"Oh, Chuuya-kun, you've found your people!" Die.

He keeps Xiao to kick ass and prove a point, but might change Venti to Zhongli or Jean 😔

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #headcanons #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryunosuke #genshin impact

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

your parallel universe or mine? (part 1)

AO3

Or, the Heathers/OUAT crossover that nobody asked for but everybody gets because 2020 is like that I guess

The diner is half-full when Emma pushes open the door, the little tinkling bell barely audible above the evening chatter, as well as the patron greeting her good morning. Truth be told, she wasn’t planning on getting dinner from Granny’s today. She had started seeing that maybe, maybe, Killian’s points that eating out for dinner for half the week is not economically a very sound plan, nor is it actually healthy. And today in particular, her house was so warm and the idea of sitting on the couch while he makes his famous omelettes and watching a feel-good movie with her daughter really did sound like a nice way to spend her evening. So no, she wasn’t actually planning on going to Granny’s.

The only problem is that she happens to have a very ambitious 6 year old who decided she was old enough and big enough to not just make dinner for herself, but also for the cat. And for some reason, she had concluded that cats must like Coco Pops. Only problem is that the Coco Pops are on the highest shelf, which she had climbed up to like it was the rigging on her father’s pirate ship. Only problem is that it isn’t, and Hope isn’t exactly blessed in the grace department. And as everyone knows, a panicked mini Saviour plus falling plus uncontrollable magic plus electronics nearby is a recipe for disaster.

Which is why she came knocking on Emma's bedroom door and explained from behind her hands that the oven was wasn’t working and, after some questioning, she may have sort of kind of accidentally sent a magic bolt heading straight for it. And as it turns out, that panicked her so much that everything else went with it. As was punctuated by the lightbulb in her room going off as Hope confessed everything and pleaded with her to believe that she didn’t really mean it.

Ah, Storybrooke. Never a dull moment.

Emma can’t be mad at Hope. Not really, since she was trying to impress her and it was something that can be easily fixed when they get home. She didn’t mean anything bad by it anyway. And… well, she gets some of Granny’s fries out of this deal. Even Killian agrees that their new home-cooked dinners can wait until Monday.

“Hey guys,” Ruby chirps, her dark hair pulled into a braid. Seeing her old friend is a bit of a surprise to Emma, and a welcome one. Not that Ruby never visits, but she’s dividing her time more unevenly lately, spending most of her time in Oz. “What can I get you?”

“Didn’t know you’d flown back in,” she comments.

“Ah well, Granny wants me to train up some new recruits,” she explains with a shrug. “Lots of kids looking part time jobs here, and since Granny’s going into retirement soon, she kind of needs all the help she can get.” She gestures to behind them, where some kids Emma recognises from the high school are milling around wearing Granny’s aprons, all with varying degrees of enthusiasm. She even spots Dorothy, a pencil tucked behind her ear, taking an order from the dwarves.

“Well look at that,” Emma mumbles. “Okay, so I’ll get cheeseburger, side of onion rings and a Coke.”

“And the grilled salmon, please. With a side of potato cakes if you don’t mind,” Killian adds. “Although if it weren’t for this one-” He pokes Hope in the belly. “We’d be eating our boiled mackerel, wouldn’t we?”

Emma hides her laugh behind her hands as Hope nods, pulling a face the moment Killian’s eyes leave hers.

“And I want a hot dog,” Hope adds. “With loads of fries. Please,” she adds after Killian gives her a look. He raises an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. “And a fruit salad for dessert. Please.”

“I’ll see if I can cover the fruit in chocolate for you,” Ruby adds with a wink, swirling around before Killian can protest. One of the most important parts of parenting is knowing where to pick your battles, and one of the most amusing parts of parenting is watching Killian try to pick all of them and failing miserably. Who know that the dastardly Captain Hook, terror of the high seas, would have met his match in the form of a six year old?

Her point is proven when Hope slides one of the colouring pages in front of him, green eyes wide, and he can do nothing but grin and pick up a crayon. Emma smiles as she takes a sip of her freshly-delivered Coke, making a mental note to bring this up to Killian later. If they didn’t eat out, how do they get perfect family moments like that.

But, as with all things in Storybrooke, their perfect evening doesn’t last. Emma has barely finished her bacon when the door swings open, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up even without turning around. She’s been in this diner enough to know that door, and to know that when it’s opened like that, it means trouble.

So she’s somewhat unsurprised when she turns to see Alice panting heavily and her eyes wide, her mouth moving a mile a minute.

“Emma! Thank goodness I caught you! You see Robin and I were walking home from work, and just as we were walking, a girl fell out in front of us! And she doesn’t look okay. She’s really, really confused I think. And scared. I think she was scared. All frowny face. But not quite angry frowning, I don’t think. I don’t know it was five whole minutes ago, I can’t remember. Point is; new girl in town appeared out of nowhere and we need help!”

“Okay,” Emma says, sifting through the load of information Alice just threw her way. “A girl? And you say she just fell out in front of you.”

“Yeah. Like one minute she wasn’t there and the next minute she was. Just appeared in the middle of the road.”

“Okay.” She eases herself off her chair and picks up her coat, despite Hope’s puppy eyes. “Could you lead me back there?”

“Uh-huh. Robin’s with her now anyway.” She sticks her hands in her pockets and rocks back and forth on her heels. “I don’t think she’s really bad. I think she’s scared.”

“Well I’ll be the judge of that.” She turns to Killian, a silent apology in her eyes. “You think you can hold down the fort while I play Sheriff?”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asks. “I know you can take care of yourself but-”

“I’ll be okay,” she replies. “Not like I’ll be alone. I’ll call my dad in too.”

“Okay,” he says. He gives her a small, one that feels made just for her. “I’ll make your order to go and heat it up later for you.”

“You’re a Saviour.” She pecks his lips quickly before moving to Hope, who doesn’t even bother hiding her scowl. “Hey, baby. I just need to go sort this out and then I’ll be right back, okay?” Her face doesn’t budge. If there’s one thing Hope took from both of them, it’s that petty stubbornness. Feeling Alice hovering behind her, Emma takes Hope’s hand softly, running her thumb over her knuckles. “Hey kid. I know we were meant to play today. I just need to go be Sheriff for five minutes and then you and me can play all night. Deal?”

Hope shifts at that, her eyes moving up to meet Emma’s.

“We can watch Super Bugs?” she asks.

There are few things Emma dislikes more than Super Bugs. It only has one redeeming factor; how much Hope loves it. And she really, really needs to go.

“All day long,” she promises. “Sound like a plan?”

Hope relents at that, the promise of Super Bugs winning her over, and Emma drops a kiss to her head before letting Alice lead her out of the diner, following her down to where this mysterious appearing girl is.

As she and Alice run through the streets and out of the main street, stores and bars slowly giving way to houses which grow fewer and further between. Emma has never been more grateful for the amount of running she’s done in the past years. Alice must have done her fair share too; the girl barely breaks a sweat as she leads her in the direction of the town line, the pavement giving way to the forest floor. It’s there that they come into view, Robin standing on the side of the road, her hands half extended towards a young, freaked out girl. More than freaked out, Emma thinks as she slows to a halt. She looks like she’s been to hell and back; her face streaked with thick black dust, her jacket torn open and from the look of it, she’s struggling to hold herself up. And that's not even mentioning her eyes, which hold far too much for someone her age.

“Who’s this?” she demands, her voice weak and unsteady. She can’t be more than eighteen. Up close, Emma sees the blood across her face, mixing with the dirt, and the way her shirt and jacket both seem badly torn and burned on the edges, and her heart clenches.

“This is Emma,” Robin says quietly. She’s handling it well enough, despite being completely out of her depth. “She can help, she’s a friend of ours.”

“She’s right kid,” Emma says. “Thanks girls, I’ve got it from here.” The girl doesn’t move as Alice and Robin leave, the two casting last looks at her and Alice mumbling thanks to Emma. Emma is ready to grab her in case she runs, but to her surprise, she doesn’t. She just stands there, arms wrapped around herself and her eyes darting everywhere. “Okay, kid. I take it you’re a little confused.”

“A little?” she asks. Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly, hunting for the right questions. “Where am I?”

“Good first question,” she says. “You’re in Storybrooke, Maine.”

“I’m in where?” she asks. She almost laughs. “How the hell am I in Maine?”

“This happens around here more often than you’d think.” She goes to ask her where she’s from, but a car pulling up behind her distracts her. Her dad gets out of the Sheriff’s car, looking to Emma for answers. Unfortunately for him, she’s yet to get anywhere. The girl on the other hand sees the car, probably taking in the word painted on the side, and tenses even more than she already is.

“You guys are cops?” she asks, her voice shooting up.

“Yeah, we’re cops,” Emma says, wincing. The girl’s eyes are wild and frantic as they meet hers, and Emma worries that she might snap and bolt in the other direction. “But it’s okay, you’re not in trouble. We just want to get you home.” She breathes in and takes another step towards her, and after a moment, moves to block her dad from her view. She lowers her voice and her fingers brush against the girl’s. She flinches at the touch, and Emma takes the message. “Hey, you can trust me, okay? I don’t know where you came from, but we can get you back there. I promise.” As the girl dips her head she does the same, trying to get a look at her. “But I can only do that if you co-operate with us here, okay?”

It’s either seconds or years before the girl nods and lets out a weak ‘okay’.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” She looks over her shoulder, to where her dad is sitting on the hood of the car, his eyes not leaving Emma. She looks back at the girl, this fragile looking young girl whom she doesn’t know, but she knows she’s been through some shit. She can’t even imagine everything that led her here, but she can imagine how she must be feeling. “Do you have a name? Cause I’d like to call you something other than kid.”

She nods and lifts her head so that her eyes meet Emma’s.

“It’s Veronica,” she says. “Veronica Sawyer.”

And Emma grins.

“Good to meet you, Veronica Sawyer.”

Veronica doesn’t say a word to either of them the whole ride to the station. But she isn’t rude. She’s not like other teenagers Emma has picked up, who sit in the back with their arms tightly folded glaring daggers into the back of Emma’s head, nor is she throwing out sarcastic remarks in the hopes that one or both eventually snaps. Instead, she’s quiet, sitting there with her eyes trained on one particular spot, her grip on herself not once slipping or loosening. More than anything else she looks exhausted; the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones and stays there and the kind you can’t get rid of with a quick power nap or a cup of coffee. An ache builds in Emma’s chest the more she looks at her, past memories flickering up against the present, and so she tears her own eyes off her and looks out at the road instead, not feeling settled until Storybrooke Main Street is in sight.

As they pull up outside the Sheriff Station, Veronica visibly pales; her already white skin turning practically translucent. Her legs barely hold her up as she stumbles out of the car, her knuckles white as she grips the door, yet she flinches away from Emma’s hand when she reaches for her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emma tells her softly. She doesn’t move any closer, not when Veronica looks so damn scared, but she tries to reassure her anyway. “No one’s going to hurt you. I promise. We just want to get you back home as soon as we can. Wherever home is.” Veronica doesn’t budge, her eyes trained on the station. The worst part of all this is Emma can’t blame her. It would be so much easier if she could. “You can hold my gun if it makes you-”

“No!” That has to be the strongest Emma has heard the girl’s voice since they met. There’s so much force in it that it actually takes her back a little.

“Okay,” she replies after a while. “Not a fan of guns. Me neither.”

“S-sorry,” she mumbles. She takes a shaky step out and closes the door behind her, swallowing thickly. “I just…. Sorry.”

“It’s okay kid.” Veronica nods, the gesture tiny. Emma takes in a deep breath, looking back over at the station, her father already inside. Veronica must be thinking the same thing she is because she takes a step closer to her and waves in that direction.

“I guess we don’t have all day, do we?”

Just like in the car, the sight of Veronica sitting at the table in the station brings back memories Emma would rather forget. Maybe she’s younger than Emma thought she was, because she looks so vulnerable just sitting there, so lost. She wonders for a second if she might have to excuse herself from this and leave her dad to deal with her. He’s got all that charming warmth anyway. Less prickly than she is. He’s probably better suited to the task than Emma is.

But something in her freaks out at that idea. Somehow she just knows she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if she left this girl’s side, even if it was with her father.

“Okay, here’s your coffee,” she says, placing the cup in front of her.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice breaking. As she sits down across from her, Emma shares a look with her dad, glad to see that they’re at least on the same page here. “Okay… so getting the obvious out of the way, you aren’t from here.”

“No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “I-I mean you said I was in Maine, right? We’re in Maine? But I was in Ohio! How did I get from Ohio to Maine?”

“Ohio?” Charming echoes, realisation dawning on him in time with Emma. “You mean you’re from-you’re from America? From here?”

“I-yes?” she replies, blinking helplessly. “Is…. Is that optional?” David takes Emma’s arm and turns them both around, glancing at Veronica with anxiety evident in his eyes.

“Emma she’s from here,” he states quietly. “From here. Not the Enchanted Forest or Neverland or anywhere else. She’s from this realm.”

“Not from the where now?” Veronica asks. She looks from Emma to David, hoping one can give her an answer. Her mouth hangs open like she’s on the verge of laughing. “Did you just say the Enchanted Forest?”

“You really need to work on your subterfuge,” Emma mutters to him. She leans on the table, looking over at Veronica, trying to find some way to put all this. It’s one thing she just appeared in Storybrooke, but if she’s from the Land Without Magic, that means she has no idea about other realms. And there’s only so much a person can take. “It’s a long story. And it’s not important right now. What’s important is getting you home.”

“Do you remember what you were doing before you got here?” David asks. “Anything at all?”

Veronica lets out a long, ragged breath, her fingers tapping noiselessly on the table. Just as Emma wonders if she should ask again, she speaks, her voice impossibly far away.

“Yeah, I do,” she answers. She takes a long drink of her coffee and squares her shoulders, taking a deep breath in. Emma clenches her fist under the table. She doesn’t know what version of events they’re about to hear, but she’d wager there’s some ugliness that she isn’t going to share. Maybe it has something to do with the dust and blood smeared across her face. “I was at the school. We were having a pep rally. And I had been talking to my friends and then I just had to go… be by myself for a little bit. So I was going home. Then the rain got really heavy and… and I couldn’t see for a minute. I think I tripped over something- no I stepped in a puddle. Then next thing I know… I’m here. And those two girls are talking to me.” Her shoulders shake, her hand presses to her mouth as a whimper escapes her, and Emma is overcome with an urge to go and sit with her and hold her. It’s not maternal or anything close. It’s something else; something that comes from deep within her.

“And… all that?” David asks gently. “Did you get all that just from coming here?”

“What?” she asks before realising. She looks down at herself, like she’s seeing the torn clothes for the first time and reaches up to touch her face, looking at her fingers coming away stained black. “Yeah. Must have been from coming here.”

She’s lying. Emma can tell. But she can also tell she has good reason to do so, so she decides not to press.

“But you’ve never heard of this place before?” David asks her. “Ever?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No offence but what kind of town is called Storybrooke?”

“We’re not on most maps,” Emma says before leaning back in her chair. This is a tricky one. Everyone else who’s shown up here in the past has done so with some chunk of their memories missing and being from a fairy-tale. Sometimes needing help, sometimes with a plan to destroy them. But Veronica doesn’t fit into any of those categories. She’s from this realm, she remembers how she got here, and while she could be wrong, Emma doesn’t think she’s here to hurt any of them. So where do they go from here? Maybe it is as simple as her getting in the bug and driving her back home, but that doesn’t sit right with Emma. How could someone from the Land Without Magic get here? What-or who-could have sent her here?

Her phone buzzing interrupts Emma’s thoughts, cutting it off before she can go full Sherlock Holmes. Maybe in this case, having Sherlock Holmes around wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but they’re unfortunately yet to come across him. She pulls out her phone, finding only two texts from Killian; one showing a picture of her wrapped up dinner and the other asking if she’s okay.

“Who’s that?”

“It’s just Killian,” Emma explains, sending a quick ‘I’ll fill you in later’ as a reply.

“What is that?” Veronica asks. Emma’s head snaps up, having not expected her to say anything. Little rude of her maybe, but she didn’t exactly strike her as the chatty type, at least not in the current circumstances. Veronica presses her fist into her hand, nodding at Emma’s phone. “Sorry. I’ve just never seen something like that before.”

“This?” Emma asks. “It’s just my phone.”

“That’s a phone?” she asks, eyes going wide. This is the closest to a normal teenager she’s sounded since Emma met her. Far less broken. Less scared. There’s even a hint of a smile on her face. “But it’s tiny. There’s no antenna. I didn’t know they made phones that small! Where are the buttons on it?”

With every new word, Emma’s mouth falls open more and more, and she turns to David to see him come to the same realisation. Like with most things in Storybrooke, this might be a bit more complicated than she thought.

“Veronica,” she begins slowly. “What year is it?”

“What?” the other girls asks.

“Humour me,” Emma says. “What’s the date? Before you got here, what date was it?”

Veronica looks from Emma to David as though she’s expecting one or the other to laugh and say it’s a joke. When neither one says it, she tells him, confusion creasing her face even more than it had before.

“November 25th,” she says. “1989.”

******

Emma calls it a night not long after that, in part due to her own helplessness and partly due to Veronica’s. She has no idea what the poor girl went through before she came here, but she does know that having her sit in a police station with questions she can’t answer isn’t helping. Anyone can see how shattered she is; the shadows under her eyes becoming more pronounced and her eyes getting heavier no matter how much she tries to hide it. What she needs is a nap, a shower, and a good breakfast. So Emma stands up, puts her jacket on and instructs Veronica to do the same, despite her father’s mild, hushed protests.

“Emma,” he whispers as he follows her to the door. “Are you sure about this, I mean we still know nothing about her.”

“Yeah and she know nothing about us,” she tells him firmly, taking a look back at her. “She clearly has no idea how she got here or what happened. Plus, look at her. Leaving it a few hours won’t hurt anyone.” David’s eyes follow hers, his face softening almost as soon as he looks over at her. Maybe there’s something in her that reminds him of what he once was; lost and running and scared, stuck in an unfamiliar place. Or maybe she reminds him of what Emma was too. Or maybe he’s just kind. Whatever the reason, he nods at her.

“Okay,” he says. “You’re right. But the question is now what do we do with her?”

“Don’t worry,” she replies, grabbing the car keys. “I have the whole thing worked out.”

The Sheriff’s car pulls up outside Granny’s inn, Veronica sitting in the backseat. Just as she asked, Killian is already sitting on the front steps, although she doesn’t remember asking him to bring their daughter. Nevertheless, Hope jumps up the minute she sees the car, Killian’s hand around her waist the only thing stopping her from fully jumping on Emma.

“Well hello little miss,” she says as she approaches. “Surely at this point you should at least have your PJs on.”

“I heard you were going to Granny’s,” she says, her smile soft and warm and all butter-wouldn’t-melt. “And I missed you tonight.” Emma shakes her head and looks at Killian, who only offers a helpless shrug.

“She can be very persuasive when she wants to be, love,” he tells her.

“I’m sure she can.” Killian’s eyes move behind her, as do Hope’s, and Emma turns too, holding her hand out. After a moment’s hesitation, Veronica steps forwards, although her hands remain to herself. Emma relates. “Killian, this is Veronica. She’s going to be hanging around town for a while. Veronica, this is my husband Killian, and my daughter Hope.”

“Hi,” she says quietly, shifting nervously on her feet.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, love,” Killian tells her. “Come on in. They’ve got your room all ready for you.”

“My-my room?” Veronica asks.

“Yeah, your room,” Emma explains. “You think we were just going to let you sleep in the woods? Or the Sheriff station? No way, kid. We pulled some strings and put you up at Granny’s until we can send you back home.”

“Oh,” she says. She shakes her head slightly, the movement swift and sharp. “No, no that’s okay. I mean really, you don’t have to go all out for me. I can find somewhere else.”

“Oh yeah with what money?” Emma asks, and that stops her in her tracks. She takes another step closer to her then, her hand slowly and gently coming to rest on her arm. Veronica stiffens, but she doesn’t pull away. “It’s okay, Veronica. You need a place to stay for a while and I’d feel a lot safer with you being here than anywhere else. And it’s a really nice place too. Granny will take good care of you.” She still looks unsure though, her hand fidgeting at her side. “Besides, it’s not like we’re paying. I’m the Sheriff, so this is coming out of taxpayer dollars, okay?” She runs her hand up and down her arm. “It’s just for a while until we get you back home.”

Emma holds her breath and after what feels like a lifetime, Veronica nods.

The gruffness they’ve come to expect from Granny is completely gone when she greets Veronica; acting more like her fairy-tale counterpart than the Granny she knows and loves. She’s all rosy cheeked smiles and gentle eyes, welcoming her like she’s one of their own.

Actually, scratch that. She wouldn’t be so polite to her own family.

Emma follows them as she leads Veronica to her room, Killian and Hope in tow. The latter seems more than a little disappointed that the attention is focussed on someone else for a change but manages to keep it to herself. Killian is a great distraction for her anyway and Emma does have a sneaking suspicion that her promise of Super Bugs is still in Hope’s mind.

“And here we are,” Granny says, unlocking the door. It’s a very nice room; double bed, fresh sheets, bathroom attached, cookies on the table and a view of the sea just to name a few. It’s lovely, and she’s glad of it, but it’s also far more extravagant than what she paid for. So much so that she has to take the old woman by the elbow and pull her aside.

“Granny,” she says in a low voice. “This is…. I only paid for a single room. I told Killian to-”

“Now you stop right there,” she tells her strongly. She looks back over at Veronica, engaged in some sort of conversation with Killian, and there’s a faraway look in her eyes that Emma can’t place. “I heard what you told Hook about that girl, and from the looks of her, a big bed and some treats is the least we can do. Besides,” she adds with a shrug. “Not like anyone was using it.”

“Granny. You’re an angel,” Emma sighs before crossing back over to Veronica. She keeps looking around the place, her gaze never stopping on one thing, like she’s expecting everything to blink out of existence. Emma nods at her and places her hand on her shoulder. “This okay for you, kid?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Thank you, Emma,” she says. “Thank you for… you know, all of this, you didn’t have to-”

“No problem,” she says. “You get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll meet up with everyone and try to work all this out.” She nods, but her face falls as she does so, what little light there was fading from her eyes, and Emma gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll get you back home before you know it. Trust me, it’s what we do here.”

She doesn’t get an answer, at least not in the traditional sense. Veronica doesn’t give her a response or anything like that. All she gets is a nod and, after a pause, she reaches out and squeezes her hand. And that means more than anything she could say.

After getting Veronica settled and another two confirmations that she’ll be okay, plus another thank you to Granny, Emma heads home, a tired Hope on her hip and Killian’s arm around her waist.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Killian asks when they’re home, handing her a coffee. She sits on the couch, Hope sprawled across her lap and fast asleep with Emma running her fingers gently through her dark hair.

“Well, she’s not from the Enchanted Forest,” Emma says. “Or the Wish Realm. Or Neverland or anywhere like that. She’s from Ohio.” He frowns slightly, unused to her map, and she has to grin. “That’s sixteen hours from here. Not factoring in bathroom breaks.”

“She’s from the Land Without Magic?” he asks, his eyes widening. “How can she have gotten here without magic?”

“That’s not the only thing,” she says. She half turns towards him, mindful of Hope on her lap. “She thought it was 1989, Killian. She might be from this world but she’s not from this time.”

“You think she time travelled here?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “That’s the thing… I don’t know. I don’t know how or why she could have come here.” She runs her finger around Hope’s back, tracing invisible patterns, and lets out a sigh. “She seemed really scared, Killian.” He hums in agreement, his hand wound tightly around his mug.

“You like her.” he asks. States. It takes Emma by surprise either way; her head snapping up. It’s so much that she accidentally jostles Hope; the little girl shifts on her lap and murmurs something incoherent before settling back down, her breath ruffling her hair.

“What?” is all she can say.

“Just… a mysterious girl shows up out of nowhere, we have no idea who she is, and your gut reaction is to put her up in a nice room at Granny’s and pay for her meals,” he says. “Just seems like you care for her.”

“I barely know her,” Emma mumbles in a reply, before her lips turn up into a smirk. “Anyway, it was the honourable thing to do, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.” He presses a kiss to her hair, causing a faint warmth to spread over her cheeks. He plays with her hair, eyeing her knowingly. Open book, of course. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something else about Veronica?”

Emma sighs, looking into her coffee. Of course there is. She felt it the minute she looked at Veronica. She may be older than Emma was, and she may look different, but when Emma saw her in the woods, in the back of their car, at the station, all she could see was herself. The look she saw in Veronica’s eyes is one she knows all too well. The look you have when you’re let down, badly. When you were floating on cloud nine one minute ago but now you’re laying on the concrete, broken and bleeding in ways no-one can see but you. She knows it. She’s had it. They might look different, and Veronica may be a little older than she was, but that was her, years and years ago. Standing in a train station, hearing that Neal was gone, taking the future they had planned with him. She doesn’t know what Veronica’s story is, but she’d bet there’s overlap there. And looking at her, she felt every moment of that heartbreak all over again. The second Emma saw Veronica’s eyes, a connection was forged for her, one she can’t shake even if she wanted to. Because even trying to walk away feels like she’s not better than everyone else who let her down in her life. And she’d rather die than be that person.

But she doesn’t feel like saying all of that right now. And Killian knows anyway, he always knows. So she takes a deep breath and says,

“She’s just a kid. And she needs someone to help.” She blinks then, only to find fresh tears in her eyes. “How can I resist?” Killian nods, all understanding eyes and gentle smiles, and kisses her again before offering to carry Hope up to bed, agreeing to meet Emma in their room once he's done. She dumps her coffee down the sink and leans against the counter, her eyes closed tightly as her mind once again drifts to Veronica. Her hand twitches for a moment, reaching for the phone to call her, but she stops herself just in time. She might be the Sheriff and the Saviour, but one thing she isn't her mother, so she'll have to dampen that instinct and focus on the task at hand; getting Veronica Sawyer home.

Veronica Sawyer. While she can't place it, there's something so familiar about that name.

#ouat #heathers the musical #veronica sawyer #emma swan #captain swan #killian jones #idek how to tag this #will I continue this? tune in to find out!

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twistytwine · 4 years

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FantaViet Universe (Unnamed): Worldbuilding #1

In my unnamed FantaViet Universe, Vietnam is structured to be ruled by three empires. Two of the empires take up most of the land, and a third empire must deal with the land that is poor and unfit for farming. This empire is unsuccessful and has high poverty, to the point where the most “rich” of wealth is the equivalent of a middle class citizen’s.

The three empires are the following:

Cây Của Vàng - Translated into English as “Tree of Gold,” Cây Của Vàng is a vast empire that is known for its supreme wealth and oppressively dominating government. Those who speak against the government are endangered, and so are their families; they will be imprisoned, deprived of any water or food. In extreme cases, they will be beheaded publicly. The empire’s flag is that of its name: a tree with golden leaves over a red background.

2% of the rich make up the empire’s population (royalty, nobles, government officials); 50% of the middle class, both high and low, make up the empire’s population (bakers, artisans, writers, public authorities, plantation owners, etc.) ; 48% of the lower class make up the empire’s population (indentured servants, slaves, musicians, etc.). The main Vietnamese dialects spoken in the empire are Hanoi and Hue.

The majority of the empire’s geography is surrounded by swampy marshlands and rich soil, so agriculture is the main working system the empire depends on. Crops grown there include rice, cassava, and sugarcane. They make plenty of money off of sugarcane due to a popular export that makes for powerful potions that relive nausea and migraines. The swampy marshlands attract mosquitoes, so many people living there (usually lower middle class to lower class) may contract diseases.

Those who live in swamps and similar build stilt houses to live in, which are houses made of wood and bamboo that sit on stilts above ground level as to avoid the water and floods, in which they’ll use coracles, small, basket-shaped lightweight boats to cross the water. Those who work on plantations/live in the far country will not be greeted by swamps and marshes, but instead moist lands and grassy fields where hills seem to stretch for miles, and they live in traditionally built wooden houses that are small but make for just enough room for small families. Those who are rich only make up those who live in the Golden Palace, in which they have endless luxuries and food to feast off of.

Magic cannot be used in this empire unless approved by the government. Those in the government can use magic however they like, if they do use it, for they view themselves as the most wise and powerful.

The Hồng Ngọc Empire - Translated into English as “the Ruby Empire” (in some other translations, “the Carbuncle Empire”), the Hồng Ngọc Empire is very popular for tourist attractions. The empire is known for its extravagant and dramatic arts, including theater and its Lion-Dragon dances, where people will dress up in Lion/Dragon costumes and dance to aggressive and flashy music. A famous story told in theater is Âu Cơ, where an immortal mountain fairy married Lạc Long Quân, an old Vietnamese emperor. Together, they bored an egg sac containing 100 babies -- 50 went to live with the fairy, and the other half to live with the emperor. These are believed to be the ancestors of Vietnam. Because of this, the people of Hồng Ngọc use magic in everyday life, even for simple things such as shows and tourist exhibits.

The empire’s flag is of a ruby gem over a black background.

32% of the rich make up the empire’s population; 57% of the middle class make up the empire’s population; 11% of the lower class make up the empire’s population. The main Vietnamese dialects spoken here are Saigon and Hue, and English is also a secondary language often spoken, alongside European languages such as French and Dutch.

The majority of the empire’s geography is filled with warm summers and mild winters, and it has several vast mountains and places for good farming. Agriculture is effective here, but not as effective as artisan work and craftsmanship. The empire is popular for its products and architecture that is so well-designed that people come from all over the world just to see its work. Of course, the products are based in entertainment, such as fireworks and theater props. They are also bought for everyday use; one considers a bowl from Hồng Ngọc to be blessed with good luck due to how skilled the craftspeople are.

The empire is built in vast towns and even cities. Not many natural disasters occur here besides tornadoes and occasional rainstorms, but they aren’t enough to damage buildings in a devastating way. As the architects are skilled, they aren’t just powerful in intricate and beautiful designs, but structures to keep people safe. People say that every corner you turn, you’ll find a restaurant waiting for you, so not many people who can afford it go hungry. Those will little money can stop by food stands and cheaper little shops for a simple small bowl of rice, soup, or half a sandwich.

Magic is most used in this empire by just about anybody, as long as they don’t break any laws, such as the obvious: hurting people with magic or committing other crimes with it.

The Place By The Sea - This empire is unnamed, but many people call it some variation of “The Place By The Sea” or “The Poor Pirates.” The people who live here aren’t actually pirates, but they do sail quite a bit. It is said that spirits live within the creatures near the ocean, specifically fish called Ong fish, which are usually large fish such as whales and dolphins. The sea god Ca Ong is believed to roam the waters surrounding The Place By The Sea in the form of a killer whale. The people of this empire base everyday life on water.

The entirety of this empire’s population is made up of lower middle class to poor people. There are no rich people present here, and those who are rich who aim to enter the empire are forbidden. There are several different Vietnamese dialects spoken here, including Hanoi, Saigon, and Hue. The population itself is very small, making up only a quarter of the Hồng Ngọc Empire.

The empire’s geography is scattered with forests that are too vast and populous to be properly cleared for agriculture, and the soil itself is poor, anyway. Mountains brutally obliterate much of the land, making travel incredibly difficult. The summers are very mild, but the winters are long and painful. Not much freshwater is available besides a few small rivers, but they have found ways to convert saltwater into freshwater.

The people of this empire depend entirely on oceanic work. They do not have a proper economy; they all band together for survival and help out one another. They also do not have a government, which makes one wonder why it’s called an empire in the first place. Their leader is called “The Empress Of The Waves,” where she’s the most skilled in the waters. She’s also an incredibly fast swimmer and is most familiar with communication with oceanic creatures.

Some people use boats to travel from place to place, but the majority of the population actually rides whales. The whales that make up the empire’s ocean are grey whales and killer whales. The people here use an immense amount of magic in their everyday lives, and it is said that despite their conditions, their magic is extraordinarily powerful, strong enough to keep everyone warm in the winter and to supply them with food from the ocean that is fruitful and healthy.

The empire’s architecture is dependent on the forest and shores. Many people build tree houses and little huts made out of wood, and others may bring these huts to the shores. Some may have no homes at all, and they’ll simply rest in the trees or on the beach, using little mats as a bed. The people here feed on crabs, shrimp, fish (sardines and mackerel), and even some bugs they can get their hands on.

#twisty's characters #worldbuilding #ask to tag #cay cua vang #the place by the sea #the hong ngoc empire #long post #i'm developing a magic system too #fantaviet

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anticatradoraofficial · 4 years

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cable-mackerel replied to your post “I would honestly be extremely interested to hear about the opinions of...”

I'd like to see someone super educated look at not only the show, but the fan reactions. too. But that means that person has to spend time willingly exposing themselves to the disaster of the show, rather than other things they might find more enjoyable/useful with their time XD though i wonder if that hypothetical person who'd expose themselves to this show would be a parent, whose kids watched their show. then they might be able to analyse to what extent the show could affect their kid's understanding of relationship dynamics *(typo) whose kids watched the show.

Good point. Seeing someone analyzing the psychology behind fan reactions (why shippers get so aggressive and defensive in general), would be just as interesting to learn about as the actual dynamic itself. I have a feeling there are a lot of adults (30+) who are fans (more than it seems like there are), but they aren’t as open about it as younger fans, because “it’s a kid’s show!!”. Plus, they probably aren’t involved in the fandom as much, because adults usually tend to be busier than teenagers. It’s usually younger people who have more time to create fan artwork and write fanfictions. It’s very likely though that there have been families (parents and kids) who have watched She-Ra together, and I assume at least a certain percentage of these adults/parents are well-educated. These are the types of people I would like to hear opinions from. I generally would like to see more opinions from older people (especially people with PhDs - like I mentioned before, and also parents too). cable-mackerel replied to your post “I would honestly be extremely interested to hear about the opinions of...”also, nice job on the associate's degree! Thank you!

#replies

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ltwilliammowett · 2 years

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The Eliza Ann

The story of the Eliza Ann began two days after Christmas in 1833. On that day, a Bermudian fisherman found what appeared to be an abandoned schooner floating among the reefs near Ely's Harbour. Thinking of a possible salvage and the resulting profit for himself, he rowed out and saw that the bow of the wreck was partially submerged. As he came alongside, the would-be salvor's eagerness turned to horror as his eyes fell on the grotesque figures sprawled on the deck. He called out to them, but there was no reply. Climbing over the side of the wreck, he discovered a crew of skeletons! Full of panic, he jumped into his boat and rowed as fast as he could to Ely's Harbour.

Shipwreck (not the Eliza Ann - Wreck of the “Oregon” under Picklecombe Battery, Plymouth Sound. 1867. Source: Illustrated London News.)

News of his encounter with a "ship full of skeletons" spread quickly throughout the islands. It was not long before a dozen fishing boats set out for the wreck. Eventually it was towed into the harbour and pulled onto the beach by the authorities for further investigation. Any sailor could see that the wreck was once a beautiful ship. It must have drifted for many months, for its beams were worm-eaten and rotten. The paint that bore her name had faded.

And everyone wanted to know what had happened to her and her crew. The skeletonised remains were carefully brought ashore and examined for clues by the officials in charge. A chain with a silver medal was found around the neck of one of the victims. The inscription read, "Awarded by the School Board as a reward for services to Wm. Brown, the gift of Franklin". Underneath were crossed pens over an open book. On one of the skeletons, the name J. Seaver was discovered sewn into the clothing, while another had the name N. Seaver. Investigators suspected that these poor souls must have been Americans, as they had a connection to Franklin. The papers found in the cabin were damaged and illegible. The ship's cargo included rotten meat and fish as well as sperm candles, cider, brandy and lumber. The barrels containing the beef, pork and mackerel were marked "Boston, September, October and November 1832".

Reports of the discovery of the wreck were published in the local weekly newspaper, the Bermuda Royal Gazette, over the next month. At first, the paper stated succinctly that a wreck of unknown origin had been found on the bottom of the reefs and towed to Ely's Harbour. A week later, on 7 January 1834, the newspaper reported that the wreck had been righted and unloaded and that "some human bones were found in its cabin". On 21 January, the Gazette described the medal found on one of the victims on the wreck and the fact that the names Seaver and Brown were widely used in Massachusetts. Eventually, news of the disaster reached the United States.

When Bostonians read the local Statesmen on Saturday morning, 8 February 1834, they were shocked by the description of the wreck in Bermuda and the grisly remains on board. The description of the schooner matched that of the Eliza Ann, which was captained by a Captain Brown. The Eliza Ann belonged to James Brown, a well-known Boston merchant. On board was William Brown, one of the winners of the Boston Franklin Medal of 1829, who wore the silver medal on a chain around his neck. His brother James was also on board. The schooner's captain, Captain Brown, was a nephew of the shipowner, and among the passengers were Joshua Seaver and his brother, which might not have happened if they had travelled separately, which they should never do. Because what does superstition say ? Never serve with siblings on the same ship, it never ends well.

What we know is that the Eliza Ann had sailed from Boston on 11 December 1832 for Puerto Rico, but never arrived. So we know her sad fate, but not what happened on that last voyage, and no one knows to this day.

#naval history #eliza ann #shipwreck #a bit of a spooky story #skeleton crew #1833 #age of sail

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aka-efirg · 4 years

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of god and... god

dazai is free. dostoevsky is free. chuuya is not. after years of living with the god right beside him but always beyond reach, one week in the clutch of a self-proclaimed god suffices to break the barrier between the god and the human

triggers : non-consensual drug use ; implied/referenced torture ; implied/referenced rape

ao3

“It seems you’re lucid again despite the drugs.”

“It seems your drugs don’t work anymore. Maybe you shouldn’t have used the same ones for a whole week. You didn’t do your homework? My body takes around a week to grow accustomed to a drug.”

“How unfortunate. Maybe I shouldn’t have underestimated Dazai’s strongest piece.”

The sound of chains breaking can be heard and in one second the redhead is in front of Fyodor, a hand on his throat.

“Be careful with what you’re saying. Dazai and you think the game is solely between you and the lot of us are just pieces. You geniuses are so annoying.” While speaking, Chuuya moves and is now straddling the russian’s lap, his arms around his neck. “I’m no one’s strongest piece, neither queen, nor even trump card. And certainly not Dazai’s. I’m my own player. Both of you better remember that from now.”

“You are now?” Fyodor is looking straight at the mesmerizing blue eyes. When he’s got his hand on the redhead, he has not planned things will turn this way. But it is far from being unpleasing for him. If not, it’s just making things more interesting. “Yet you seem to play by Dazai’s game.”

The look the mafioso throws at the russian is fierce enough to pin Fyodor to his chair. However his expression is openly interested, wanting to see how things will unfold. The redhead seems to catch his feelings because the frown on his face subtly deepens.

“I play along, not by. You are threatening my city and the people I care about. So if following Dazai’s plan can ensure your demise, I’m willing to do it.”

“Such harsh words.”

Fyodor brings his hand to the other’s face and draws an imaginary line from the cheekbone to the jawline, reveling in the way the redhead seems to lean at the touch. Not unlike a cat, Fyodor thinks, amused. Sometimes biting and hissing. Sometimes demanding and purring.

The second Chuuya realizes what he’s doing, he withdraws. Leaving hanging in the air the hand that was previously gently stroking his face. Fyodor even swears he hears the redhead hissing. Not that it will be enough to deter him. On the contrary. He grabs the mafioso’s chin and maintains his head so that their eyes are bored into each other’s.

Amethyst into sapphire. He takes several seconds to relish the sea of emotions, so vivid and captivating. How the the redhead is not afraid of showing them is a strange concept. It makes him wonder what it is like to feel so strongly. Is the mafioso not overwhelming? Is it not incapacitating to have so many emotions that can go against reason and logic?

How can one think rationally if they are filled with anger or despair? How can they hope winning if they can not do what has to be done? If one is not ready to sacrifice those beneath them, they are just going to die, along the very ones they want to protect.

So he doesn’t understand how the one before him can be an Executive and still feeling and caring so vigorously. You would think someone who works under Mori Ōgai and had Dazai Osamu as their partner would have learned to hide their emotions.

But no, because these very emotions that should not be in the open are flashing so fast in these so expressive eyes Fyodor is not sure he’s managed to catch them all, let alone identified them.

“It’s such a shame we don’t share the same point of view. You’d be dazzling by my side.”

“By your side?” Chuuya snorts. “You would let someone stand beside you?”

“I certainly could let you.”

When Fyodor feels the redhead moving, he prepares for him to try to dislodge the grip on his chin and back away. Instead the smaller leans forward until their nose are only a few millimeters away.

“And what makes you think I’d want you by my side?”

“Are you that hard to please?”

Chuuya moves his head back, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Like I said, I’m not keen on those who go after the people I care about. Plus you want to destroy Yokohama and I can’t be seen with someone like that, can’t I?”

Fyodor lets out an amused chuckle and lets go of Chuuya’s chin, only to place his hand on the other’s hip and press him closer.

“You’re awfully close to me right now.”

“But I’m not next to you.”

The glint in his purple eyes matches the smile which appears on his face. He presses the smaller closer with the hand on his hip and brings the other to the red hair. He starts playing with the fiery strands, enjoying the silky sensation. He then bores his eyes into the blue ones and can’t help but say. “Your look has changed, compared to last week.”

The hand on the hip is now resting under the shirt and starts drawing circles on the lower back. To his credit Chuuya doesn’t look fazed by the russian’s constant touching. “Maybe it’s because I’m not drugged anymore.”

“No. You have changed. I don’t know what has caused this change but something feels different about you.”

“What? You really thought no change would occur after being your prisoner for a whole week?”

“I wouldn’t know. Usually they break after only a few hours, or one day for the most resilient. The change is always for the worst. They certainly don’t become more dangerous than before.”

“Oh~ you think I’m dangerous?”

“It would not be wise to underestimate you. I’ve already done it and look at where it has led us.”

“Me on your lap?”

Fyodor chuckles. “More you out of your chains.”

“And what are you going to do about that? Your chains can’t contain me and your drugs don’t work on me.”

Fyodor’s hand stops playing with the red strands and comes to encircle the smaller’s neck, applying a little pressure. “I could always kill you. There would be one fewer opponent. A powerful one at that.”

Chuuya removes his arms from where they are and cups Fyodor’s face with his hands. “What are you waiting for?” He leans forward, increasing the pressure on his neck. His voice becomes smoother, hypnotizing as he talks.“I’m at the mercy of your ability. Heck, you could even gut me with the knife you’re keeping on you. So what are you waiting for? Are you afraid your ability won’t work on me? Or do you think I will use your knife against you?” One of his hand has gotten closer to the said knife and is now holding its hilt. Without looking away, he brings the weapon between them, the blade toward him. “There, you see. All you have to do is push.”

Fyodor watches with amusement as the redhead is leaning closer and closer until he’s sure the blade is nipping the mafioso’s skin. “Now I can see why Dazai is so interested in you.”

Despite the mention of his ex-partner, Chuuya cracks a smile, pure mischief perceptible in his eyes. No one should look that pleased after being tortured for a week. Fyodor think absently. You sure seem to enjoy yourself, маленький бог.

“Oh, you were talking about me in your glass prison?”

“Well, I don’t see who else will fit the most the description of ‘a barking dog who seems can not follow one simple order and will only end up being a disappointment’. Even though you’re far from being a disappointment. I suspect Dazai wanted to keep you as far from me as possible. I mean, I can understand why. Wouldn’t it be the worst scenario if you ended up being under my control?”

“I’m fucking going to kill him and throw his body in the middle of the ocean.” He leans backward and sighs. Fyodor can only watch with mirth the redhead growing more and more irritated. “Lose one game, one single game and you get this fucking nickname following you for the rest of your life.” He looks Fyodor in the eyes, frowning a little at the clear display of emotions into them. “Once I’m finished with you, I swear this shitty good-for-nothing mackerel is dead.”

“Wouldn’t it be like throwing away all your efforts to free him?”

“But it would be so satisfying to do so.” The not pout and the not childish tone are so alien to the situation, Fyodor can’t help but smile.

“I’m not denying it. But didn't you say you needed him to beat me?”

“Agh, you’re right. You’re fucking right. I hate geniuses.” Chuuya closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Why does he always end up frustrated each time his ex-partner is mentioned? He has other problems to deal with. Such as the russian asshole in front of him.

“Maybe we should stop talking about him.”

“You’re the one who mentioned him first.”

“Why are we talking about him as if he is your ex-something ready to come between us?”

“Us? Great, replacing one disaster sociopath genius by one distinguish psychopath genius. I’m over the moon.”

For sole answer, Fyodor pushes the redhead toward him with his hand, pressing the knife even more into the smaller’s stomach, and brings his head closer to his own. The mafioso doesn’t flinch in the slightest at the bite of the knife, nor at the sudden lips crashing against his own. The kiss is far from being sweet and slow, but is devouring and biting. Neither of them close their eyes and Chuuya quickly understands the kiss is not of lust and desire, but of domination and control.

So that is where Fyodor wants to go. Fine. Two can play this game. And Chuuya would be damned if he’s going to let the russian win.

He lets go of the knife, leaving it rest between them, and brings his hand to the dark hair. He grabs the black strands ferociously and deepens the kiss. He feels delight in the subtle shudder his action causes to the russian. In response he feels the hand on his neck moving to his nape and the vicious grip that follows. Thankfully he is no stranger to this kind of action and has since learned not to react. Fyodor is not the first one thinking he can submit him like that. And the few ones who succeeded paid the price ten fold.

As neither of them appear to want to let the other gain one bit of control, soon they both are left out of breath and forced to break the kiss. Fyodor’s eyes shine with ominous glee and hunger. A dark chuckle escapes from his lips which curve in a predatory smile.

“You weren’t that defiant the other times I kissed you, маленький бог.”

The glint in Chuuya’s eyes is dangerous as well. The man before him took advantage of the state he was in and the god in him demands retribution. One does not wrong a god without paying the price. And Chuuya is more than willing to let the god reclaim his due.

Fyodor mustn’t have sensed his intents, or does not care, because the next thing he says sends fury in his blood.

“You were so pliant and begging for more.”

Amusement is painting his face and all Chuuya wants is to rip this smile in tatters. Torn those hands off and crush them until there is nothing left. He wants to take his soul and shred it. Again and again. To wrest all that makes him human.

Does Fyodor even have a soul? Is it already in tatters? Does it look human? Now Chuuya wants to know. Which one of them have the most human soul?

Despite his thoughts of death and shredding, Chuuya flashes a sweet smile and brushes Fyodor’s face with his finger.

“Oh I’m sure it was very satisfying to have a god at your mercy. Whimpering, meowing, screaming, begging. I hope you enjoyed it because it won’t happen again.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Drug me, chain me, torture me again if you must, I will kill you. Make me beg one more time and I will destroy and tear you apart.”

Fyodor strokes the skin of the nape under his hand with a sickening affection. “Is it a promise?”

When Chuuya senses the hand on his back getting lower until the finger are under his clothes, he clutches violently the dark hair while his other hand grasps the arm in a bruising grip.

“Yes, it is.”

#bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #dostoevsky fyodor #arahabaki #my writing

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