Hello everyone! My name is Jackie Cronefield, and I'd like to properly welcome you to my SFW blog! I write all sorts of content, ranging from fanfiction to poetry. My most common fandoms are Twisted Wonderland, Fire Emblem, various otomes, and the Legend of Zelda. It's very nice to meet you all - or, in the case of some, to meet you again!
This is a temporary pinned post while I set up this blog. In the meantime, I am opening this blog with an event:
Twisted Wonderland: Beach Episode!
This will be a little summer mini series that will feature all of your favorite Twisted Wonderland characters. I hope you will look forward to it!
That is all for the time being. I'm very excited for the future, and I hope you are too!
Until next time, dearests!~
Note: This is partly a vent piece for me; it helps me express some of my ongoing struggles with love. I wrote this as M/F, but as there isn't really any identifying features described for the reader/MC, this can be for a male or gender-neutral reader, too. May or may not be slightly out of character for Rook, I'm not sure atm. Just in a vulnerable state rn.
There was a slight pep in Rook’s step as he ascended the three rickety stairs, hiking boots bumping against the hard wood of the front porch as he strode up to the front doors of the large manor house. Usually, he would be mindful of the heft of his footsteps, how much noise they made, but he did not care for the moment. Right now, he was not stalking prey or observing a beautiful specimen, trying to remain unseen, undetected. This was a simple house call - a visit to a dear friend. He lifted his gloved hand, balled into a fist, and knocked three times on one of the doors. He practically bounced on his heels as he patiently waited for his call to be answered, excitement coursing through his veins. Oh, how he could not wait!
Rook had been looking forward to this all day. From the moment he woke up that morning to this very instance, he had barely been able to keep his anticipation at bay. The planning beforehand was tease enough - Rook desperately needed to quench his anticipation. The curiosity as to the outcome of this encounter was something he’d turned over and over in his head; each imaginary outcome sent his heart into flips and twirls, more interesting than the last. When he heard all-too-familiar footsteps descending the staircase within and approaching the entrance of the house, he could not keep his smile from turning into a grin. His soul soared as the doorknob of the left door turned; the second he saw the person behind that door, he began to speak.
“Bonjour, trickster! Forgive the sudden visit, but I could not-”
The words froze in his throat as his eyes fully took in your face. Eyes red and puffy, lips and eyebrows downturned, cheeks stained with tears. Though you tried to contain your sniffles, they penetrated his ears as though you were wailing. His heart sunk - this was not the time for his silly escapades. His smile melted off his face, expression quickly turning to one of worry.
“Mon dieu! Trickster, what’s happened?” As he stepped towards you, he outstretched his arms - you immediately fell into them. Your cheek hit his chest just as your mumbled sniffles became sobs, voice hiccuping as a torrent of fresh tears fell from the corners of your eyes. You did not utter a word, only sounds of pain, sadness, anguish. Perhaps you could not form them, too distraught to comprehend any other expression. Rook would not dream of prying further now. His strong arms held you close, carefully guiding you into the foyer; he softly kicked the front door closed before leading you into the living room and onto the couch.
You sat there for a while, quietly. The only sounds that broke the silence were your cries, muffled by Rook’s vest. It was rumpled now, patches of damp here and there from your tears soaking into the fabric, turning it an even darker shade of purple. His necktie was partly untucked from its usual place; at some point, his signature hat had slipped from atop his blonde hair and onto the floor. All of this, he paid no mind. The hunter was solely focused on you; one hand rested on your lower back, while the other gently stroked up and down the upper expanse along your spine. Any other time, it would be unnerving to see the man so quiet.
In-between your sobs and sniffles, Rook’s keen senses picked up on other things about Ramshackle. There were no hushed voices within the walls, meaning the ghosts that made this house their residence were currently out. The distant snoring and sleep talk on the second floor, close to the stairs, was Grim, obviously asleep on your shared bed. Rook could faintly smell the remnants of something sweet - some sort of chocolate dessert. Whether you’d baked the no doubt delicious treat yourself, he was not certain. The occasional groans and creaks of the dorm forever settling, paired with the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room, were a pleasant background orchestra. Were it not for more pressing matters, Rook would allow himself to bask in the domestic beauty.
Your head shifted from its place on his chest. Rook tilted his down to meet your gaze as you looked up at him, watching as you rubbed your puffy eyes with the back of your hand. “‘M sorry,” you mumbled. “I tried to keep it in, but-”
“Shh, non,” Rook whispered. He retracted the hand that had been rubbing your back, moving it up to tenderly wipe away the remnants of your tears from your cheeks with his fingers. “Never apologize for this, trickster. I am happy to be here to comfort you in your hour of need.” He tucked a stray lock of dampened hair behind your ear. Now, he believed, was the time to pry, if only a little. “What has made you so upset, if I may ask?”
You looked almost ashamed to answer; your gaze drifted downwards, as if you were afraid to look him in the eye. Rook did not force you to look at him again, just simply said, “You do not have to share if you do not wish to.”
You shook your head slightly. “No, it’s okay…” You shrugged, “Just embarrassed, I guess.”
“Something to have upset you so is nothing to be embarrassed about,” Rook reassured you. He made an invisible ‘x’ over his heart. “I swear not to judge, nor would I ever do so, dear trickster.”
The trace of a chuckle breathed past your lips: A little win for him, and a comfort that you were feeling at least a tad better. He hoped so, anyway. After another brief pause, you opened your mouth to speak. “You remember when I told you I liked that guy? The one in my class?”
“Oui.”
“Well… I confessed to him today.” Rook’s eyes widened in surprise; you had not told him of such plans. Of course, your business was your own, but that did not take away from his surprise. Then, just as quickly, his heart sank at the realization. Your next words confirmed what he already knew. “He-” you sniffled, his heart ached, “He said he didn’t feel the same.”
Rook’s chest throbbed with a deep pain. “Trickster…”
“Please don’t say you’re sorry.” Little water crystals began to form in your eyes. Rook watched as you desperately tried to blink them away. “I shouldn’t have assumed he felt the same. I just- I thought-” There you went, falling back into the pits of despair as you cried. Rook’s hand returned to your back, gently stroking your spine as he softly shushed you.
“I even baked him a cupcake,” you confessed. The answer to that lovely smell he’d detected before. “A damn cupcake! I put it in a wrapped box with a bow and everything!” To hear your words tremble with so much sorrowful emotion was like a stab to the heart for the man. He would endure thousands more, for he knew you were experiencing far worse right now. You glared daggers into his black-and-white necktie, “I shouldn’t have been so stupid.”
“[Name].” That startled you from your thoughts. Rook knew it was rare for him to call you by name; he scarcely remembered a time he did not refer to you as ‘trickster,’ at least publicly, to your face and around others. In moments where he was alone, the many times he’d let it roll off his tongue, savor the way it sounded. Rook waited until you peered up at him before continuing. “As long as I am around, I will not let you sully yourself with such words. It and all those related to it are untrue.”
His hand cupped your cheek, the black leather cool against your reddened skin. “You have every right to be upset. Heartbreak is a cruel beauty - never be ashamed of it.” For a second, Rook was afraid you would disagree and continue to put yourself down. Your [color] irises were still dewy with tears, pupils blown wide in a mix of sadness and shock, the latter of which arose with his words. Though he did not detect a sense of understanding before you glanced to the side, away from him, he was at least relieved there was no defiance within them.
“I just really thought he felt the same,” you mumbled. Even if they were quiet enough for the common ear not to hear, Rook was glad he was anything but common. He heard you loud and clear, down to the trembles of your tone and the cracks of your sorrowful voice. “He seemed to, with all the time we spent together.” You sniffed deeply before finishing your thought. “I really thought I’d found it this time.”
That, right there, broke his heart in two. Rook knew you had been searching for love for so long. He knew that, with every crush and love you developed, it was never reciprocated. No matter how hard you worked to get to know the person, spend time with them, woo them with your charm and beauty, it was never enough. The sweetest, heartfelt confessions, which took so much courage for you to go through with, all ended in failure - a metaphorical slap to the face. This latest man that had taken your heart was the first you appeared entirely confident in, and Rook had been so looking forward to finally seeing you get the love you deserved. Yet here you were, once again drowning in despair, wondering what you did wrong; what it was about you that was so unloveable.
How angry it made him.
Why shouldn’t a fair creature such as you receive love. You should be showered in it. Your beauty should be worshipped, your talents praised, your presence honored. There should be a bouquet of flowers in your arms every week - multiple, if you wished. All the affection and love you had to give should be given back to you tenfold, making you a giggling, blushing mess. Your radiant smile would never wane, not if the one you chose was worth his salt. What an absolute fool that man was.
“Rook?” Your sweet voice delivered the hunter back to reality. He did not even notice he’d averted his gaze from you, looking down to see you cutely peeking up at him. Your eyes seemed to twinkle in the sunlight streaming through the towering windows - mignon. “Are you okay?”
“Oui,” he replied, slightly tilting his head to the side, “why do you ask?”
“You were staring off into space,” you said. A little smile touched your beautiful features as you nodded your head back towards the fireplace. “Did the fireplace do something to you?”
Rook’s anger was dissipated (at least for the time being) by the laugh he released. “Haha! Ah, trickster - even in moments like these, your charm and wit shine brighter than ever.” It was then he noticed how close he was holding you. The hand on your lower back was now placed by his arm now tightly wrapped around your waist, pressing you firmly against his strong chest. He wondered if you could feel his heart beat, the swell of his chest as he breathed. His other hand had moved up from your cheek to cradle the back of your head, fingers weaving through your soft locks of hair. He removed that hand and loosened his hold on you so you could comfortably move about.
“I am alright, trickster, I promise.” Rook quickly straightened the hair he’d ruffled on your head. “I was only taking in your words and thinking them over.”
“What were you thinking?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying so much. There went that deep-seated ache in his heart again.
“I was just thinking about how foolish of a man he is.”
Your forehead wrinkled as your eyebrows furrowed, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You have such fine qualities about you, trickster,” Rook began. “You have such a kind heart, always putting your needs before others; you give everything you have to make your friends happy. You work hard to achieve, and even in the face of adversity you press on. You hold such unbridled passion for your hobbies and interests…” Subconsciously his thumb stroked your cheek, back and forth, slowly. As he got lost in your eyes, you stared intently into his own, paired well with his sincere smile. “Together with your gorgeous visage, you are simply irresistible.”
Rook paused for a few seconds, letting the words sink into every crevice of your mind. His piercing gaze narrowed; his smile wavered as he seemed to look through you, past you, for a moment. “At least, I believe so. However, it appears there are those blind to your grandeur. Dommage que…anyone would be lucky to have you on their arm, to call you their own.” The mental visage of all the ones you’d loved before flashed in his mind, each of their own unique quality - all of which broke your heart. As he finally focused back on you, on your pretty [color] eyes staring up at him, a series of beautiful emotions mixed within, all he could think was one question: How?
How could someone take such a lovely heart and smash it into a million pieces?
How could they dismiss your delightful love and boundless affection?
How could someone not crave your alluring gaze upon them?
How could they not be starved for a taste of your heavenly lips?
How did their souls not sing at the sound of their name on your tongue?
For so long, Rook has loved you. At first, he took it for a passing fancy - a deep desire to examine your special beauty. When he was able to take his fill, from afar and up close, he thought it would dissipate, yet it did not. Instead, he wished for more of you: Your voice, your body, your fairs and flaws - your very presence. When he found out your heart already longed for another, Rook did not try to compromise the possible match, nor the ones thereafter. Perhaps it was the smallest of fears in the back of his mind that you might not love him, too, that prevented him from laying his feelings bare before your feet. Rook was more than thrilled to be your friend, your confidant, your Pomefiore playmate.
Yet his desires for something more with you persisted. Maybe, just maybe, now, after so long of a companionship, you might give him a chance, should he ask for a date. His heart fluttered at the very thought.
This time, your smile stretched from ear to ear. Rook, for the millionth time since he met you, admired the sweet sight. Although Vil maintained his throne as the fairest in the land, you took your own place as the fairest in Rook’s heart. “I think you’re the only one who can make me feel so good about myself,” you confessed.
He chuckled, “It is my greatest honor!” He pretended to feel faint, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, eyelids fluttering shut. “To receive such praise…Ah! Help me, trickster, for my soul is leaving my body!”
“Noooo!” you guffawed. “Don’t leave! You’re so handsome, haha!”
Surely his soul had left his body now. All the air vacated his lungs - he could not breathe. You…You just called him handsome! Did the room suddenly become brighter, gravity a little lighter? He felt his spirits rise higher and higher; gone was his previous contempt for the man that broke your heart. Well, at least for now. Rook would acquire vengeance for you later, in his own way.
The hunter felt heat rush to his cheeks. The shocked look that had claimed his face seconds before was swept away by a wide grin. “Such a genuine compliment! Tres bien! Merci, dearest trickster!” The hand pressed to his forehead reached upwards to hold the brim of his hat and tip it, “Your words will repeat in my mind for-”
His fingers clutched around nothing. Rook’s brows climbed his head, grin falling as his hand patted about his scalp, exposed to the elements. Where had his hat gone? Suddenly, he remembered; he craned his neck and turned his head to look behind him, down behind the couch to where his hat rested, white feather brushing against the wood floor. “Ah, it seems my old friend has wandered off.”
“Here, let me get it.” You lifted yourself off of Rook’s chest; while he wished to be close to you for a little longer, he relinquished his hold on you. You stood up from the vintage couch and walked around to its back, picking up his wide-brimmed hat. Rook watched you from the corner of his eye as you dusted off the bottom and adjusted the feather. Once you were sure it was free of dust and dirt, you gingerly placed it atop Rook’s head. “There you go~”
“Merci.” Rook kept his gaze on you as you rounded back to the front, passing him before sitting next to him once more. He watched you stretch your neck, rolling it from left to right, a quiet ‘pop’ being heard as your joints moved. As your lips parted as you let out a relieved sigh at the loss of tension, Rook could not help but stare. They were so enticing… Was it too selfish, too wicked of him to wish for a taste so soon? To keep his innate desires at bay was a mounting task, but he would endure it.
A fool in love was he, but not fool enough to reveal his devotion and overwhelm you in such a vulnerable state. Rook Hunt would give you the time you needed to recover, as well as all the comfort he could provide. After you mended your heart and were ready to move forward, perhaps then, finally, he will tell you how he feels. Until then, he is content, positively elated, to sit here with you, your head now resting on his shoulder, shyly whispering words of thanks to him for his comfort. Rook Hunt would provide all that and more, catering to your every whim and need just to see you smile and laugh. The hunter is nothing but patient, dearest trickster - you are well worth the wait.
“Pardon moi, trickster,” Rook piped up, interrupting the comfortable silence you’d both nestled into.
“Hm?”
“I have one more question to ask, if you do not mind.”
“Yeah, shoot.”
“What became of the cupcake? Did you let le fou keep it?”
“Oh, no, he didn’t want it.” Rook watched as you kicked an imaginary pebble on the floor - something you did when you were disappointed.
“Then…?”
“I brought it back here with me,” you explained. “I ate it before you got here.” You shrugged, “No sense in letting it go to waste. Kinda felt good to eat my feelings,” you giggled.
The knowledge that the rich chocolate of the cupcake likely still lingered on your tongue… Hopeless is a fool in love, thus a fool Rook shall be.
Note: Can be set in either Breath of the Wild or Age of Calamity setting. Whatever your preference
There were a few things that really ruffled Revali’s feathers. Missing a target, someone doubting his abilities - a certain royal knight not knowing when to back off and let someone of superior skill take the lead. Having encountered none of those pet peeves so far, Revali should be having a good day. He was… Well, until he spotted two Hylians conversing at the base of Rito Village. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. It was the identity of the two people that caught the Rito’s attention: Arania, one of the princess’s retainers, and Darwin, one of the local merchants.
Revali could tell Darwin was flirting from his perch. His crooked smile, the narrow of his eye, the way he lightly brushed her arm every six minutes or so. Usually, Revali wouldn’t bat an eye, letting the man carry on with his business. But it was Arania he was flirting with. Something about that rubbed the Rito the wrong way. As he leaned forward a little, trying to get a better look at the woman, he couldn’t tell whether or not she reciprocated the feeling. She just smiled back at Darwin, carrying on as though nothing were amiss.
Just then, Darwin reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Arania’s pointed ear. He said something about her being pretty - that he did not understand how no one had asked for her hand yet. Yeah, that was enough. Revali jumped off his perch, high atop the rock that served as his village’s foundation, and swooped down towards them. Revali landed a couple paces away from the two, catching their attention as he straightened his posture and rolled his shoulders back. He approached Darwin as he waved a hand out, glaring at him, “You Hylians don’t know how to keep your hands to yourselves, do you?”
Darwin furrowed his thick brows in confusion, “Pardon, sir?”
“Pardon, sir?” Revali mocked, rolling his eyes. “Oh, so you will talk like some snobby noble, but when it comes to touching others without a thought if they want that contact, all manners are thrown to the wind, hm?”
“He didn’t offend me,” Arania said, peering up at the tall Rito. “We were just-”
“Talking, I know.” He narrowed his eyes at Darwin. “How it all starts.”
“What are you talking about?”
Revali scoffed in amusement, glancing down at the woman. “Oh please. Don’t tell me one of her highness’s retainers is so naive to not notice someone flirting with her.”
She was, apparently. Revali watched those light blue eyes widen, her head turning to look at the merchant. “Were you?”
Darwin looked a tad sheepish, yet tried to hide it with a smirk and a shrug. “Is it a crime for a man to show interest in such a beautiful lady?~”
“When you finally move past beginner’s courting tactics, you can talk,” Revali cut in.
“Revali!” Arania gasped, voice at that tone the Rito knew was for scolding.
“No need to defend my honor, Miss Hatrinoak.” Revali could almost see the smoke wafting out of his ears. Even so, the merchant kept his cool. “It is time for me to head back to the stable, anyhow.” Before he left, Darwin reached behind him, retrieving a small bouquet of freshly cut, expensive-looking flowers from a strap on his pack. He handed them to Arania with a smile Revali knew was meant to be charming. Disgusting.
“For you,” he said, his fingers brushing hers for a moment longer than Revali would like before pulling away. He tipped his hat at Arania as she admired the flowers. “Until next we meet, my lady.” And with that, the man was off, walking down the path exiting Rito Village and entering the world beyond it. Revali smirked as he watched him go. Good riddance.
“Was that really necessary?”
Revali’s smirk disappeared, a frown forming on his beak as he looked down at Arania. Feathered arms crossed over the other, he met her glare with his own. “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”
“For what?!” Arania asked. “I don’t care if he was flirting! A buy supplies from Darwin whenever I visit the village, and he is always nice to talk to-”
“You Hylians are satisfied with such mundane company?”
“Darwin is actually very entertaining, thank you.”
Revali smiled, mocklingly. “Now, see, was that so hard? Just two little words~”
Arania groaned in annoyance, two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, bouquet of flowers dangling upside down in her other hand. “Goddess, sometimes you are so-”
“Inspiring?”
“Not what I was-”
“Charming?”
“Would you let me-?”
“Heroic?”
“Nevermind.” Arania threw up her hands for a moment before they fell back to her sides. “I don’t know why I bother.”
“Neither do I,” Revali concurred. “Really though, if that merchant is your main source of companionship while the princess is off with her royal knight, you have poor taste.”
Arania sighed, clearly frustrated. Revali had to force back another smirk, lest she start whacking him with that bouquet. “Fine then.” She turned to face the Rito directly, looking dead into his green eyes. “What kind of company do you think I should be keeping, oh wise Rito Champion?”
Revali did not dare hesitate. “Someone with better social skills, for one. Darwin has been coming here for four years now, and he talks about the same things over and over and over again. I want to pull my feathers out just hearing him!” He smoothed back the feathers on his head with his hand. “A sense of humor that is not akin to stale bread would be nice, too.” Revali heard a muffled snort from beside him. Ah, so she agreed, hm? See, he was right.
“And that bouquet of flowers he gave you!” Revali let out a laugh. “The most generic I’ve ever seen! He does not even have the good sense to figure out what flowers you prefer. What will he do next? Bring you a book of recipes, thinking you must love cooking because of your origin, when in reality you prefer to sew and garden! Honestly, if he does aim to sweep you off your feet, he’s going to have to do a lot better than that!”
Arania had gone quiet, listening to what the Rito had to say. When there was a pause in his speech, she asked, “And what sort of flowers do I prefer?”
“Wildflowers,” Revali answered, without pause. “Especially the ones in purple and blue hues. Throw a few ferns and sweetgrass in there, too. Tie them up with simple twine, how you like it.”
It was Arania’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”
“How many times have you come to this village now?” The question was rhetorical, for Revali didn’t give her a chance to answer. “What do you think I do up there?” He pointed upwards, towards the perch he’d flown down from. “A Rito warrior is expected to be observant, you know.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
“Yes.”
“All the time?”
Everything came to a screeching halt in Revali’s brain. No, no not all the time, certainly not… Did he? He picked his brain for what the other villagers and visitors had been up to that day. Aside from a few small details and everyday goings-on, there was nothing. Only her. Revali tried to recall yesterday’s observations, and the days before that. Nope, still mostly Arania.
To an outsider’s perspective, it looked as though Revali were staring off into the distance, across the gorge to the pines scattered about the Tabantha Frontier. On the inside, Revali was panicking. He had simply come down to knock some sense into the silly Hylian; to tell her in his own way that she should keep better company. That she deserved better. Arania did deserve better - the best in Hyrule. Why? Out of all Hylians, why her in particular?
“I have to go,” Revali said, brushing past Arania as he walked in the direction of the Flight Range.
“Huh?” Arania scampered after him, trying to keep up as he quickened his pace. “Why? Did I say something-”
“I’ve grown bored of this conversation.”
“You started it!”
“Yes, and now I am finishing it. Is that so hard to comprehend?”
Arania huffed, stopping in her tracks as she stared at his back. “Well, you just run off Darwin, so who else am I supposed to talk to?”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone, running that mouth like you do.”
“If that’s the case,” Arania bit back, “you must like my mouth a lot, coming around as often as you do.”
Revali halted and spun on his heel, intent on saying something, anything, to win this little argument. Yet when he looked at Arania, beheld her blue eyes and soft lips, both so pretty against her fair skin…pretty. Pretty, pretty, why pretty? What was wrong with him?! Revali scoffed in annoyance, in frustration, before turning back around and taking off into the air in a gust of wind, leaving Arania behind. When he was high enough in the sky, he glanced back down at the land below, spotting Arania fussing with her dark violet hair, which had been tousled by the wind. No doubt he’d irritated her - good, some payback for his internal turmoil.
As Revali focused his gaze forward, growing closer and closer to the Flight Range, he caught a glimpse of the plant life speckled across the ground, somehow surviving the snowy tundra. A few blue wildflowers swayed in the breeze, tucked next to towering pines. Arania liked them, he recalled… Maybe, just maybe, if he was feeling generous enough, he’d bring her back a few. Perhaps he’d even twist and tie them into a small little tiara that’d fit her head, and he’d call her the queen of thorns - the thorn in his side, to be precise.
She wasn’t, though, never was. Around her, Revali was just so… The Rito male couldn’t find the words. In her presence, he felt so off-balance, unprepared, disoriented, uncharacteristically protective. Her being Hylian seemed to have nothing to do with it at all, given he didn’t have the same reaction to the princess and, ugh, Link. He felt like a flustered chick who’d yet to learn to fly. It was all just so, so…!
Y'know, I'm starting to think my writer's block is seasonal. The moment autumn starts to hit, my brain just shuts down when it comes to story ideas. I would still write, but then my work wouldn't come out as well (it's happened before). Now, all of the sudden, I want to do nothing but write. Curse you seasonal fatigue!
I was working on Trein's beach episode story when it hit. I might let that rest for a bit longer and work on Fellow and Gidel's, as I write for them more than I do the old man. I also plan to release a few other pieces here involving Book 7 (how about that ending huh???). I will be sure to tag those for spoilers for those who have not played out all of the events just yet.
Anyways, I hope you are all doing well. I know I've been quiet for a while, and after some talks with a therapist I've visited in intervals throughout last year, I believe it is due to seasonal fatigue and the events life keeps throwing at me. I am trying to do better. I am pacing myself more than I was, but there will be more content coming this spring/summer in short bursts. I hope y'all look forward to it.
Note: The Janitor belongs to @the-trinket-witch (Happy [belated, I'm so sorry] Birthday I love you!!!). Revon C. Crowley belongs to me.
Alongside the cafeteria and the alchemy lab, the hallways were the hardest to clean. Dirt and grime, discarded chewed gum, scrunched up pieces of paper - just the start of the long list of things one might find along those covered walkways. Some days were worse than others; one time there was a huge fight between two students - a cat and a red-headed boy - that left magical residue and charred ashes in their wake. Guess who had to clean all that up? Certainly not the students, that was for sure. The Janitor alone received a (demeaning, like they were some pet) pat on the head from the headmage as he smiled and said, “I’ll leave you to it! Keep up the good work!”
Was it wrong to want to chuck the man that allowed your existence to continue into the garbage? Perhaps. The Janitor couldn’t dwell on it - there was work to be done. Floors to be swept and mopped; rugs and runners, big and small, to beat and sweep free of lint and tiny debris; windows to wash; furniture, banisters, and other surfaces to dust and polish. Most of those task had been taken care of throughout the day. The Janitor left most of the hallways for last, as there was far less traffic passing through them during the night. Aside from the rare passing of a ghost or professor, the Janitor simply enjoyed the peace and quiet of the night as they set to work.
The birds, fireflies, and other nighttime wildlife were their only company. They would think their nightly chorus was music to their ears if they had some. The darkness wasn’t too much of a bother; whatever magic had brought them to life allowed them a sort of nightvision. Sure, there were a few shades of dark they couldn’t see into, but paired with the moonlight above it wasn’t too much of a time navigating and picking out any stray grime. It was at the corner of that eyesight that the living skeleton spotted movement a few feet behind them. Something small and black and feathery. When they looked back, the Janitor saw it was a raven, perched comfortably wall lining the second floor hallway. On the recently cleaned wall.
The Janitor wasn’t really one to bother the local wildlife. As someone sometimes poked and prodded at by the occasional troublesome student who thought they were some puppet or prop, still unbelieving they were alive, the Janitor understood what it was like to be disturbed. Still, cleaning up bird poop was not on their to-do list tonight, and they’d rather avoid yet another task tacked onto that list. The Janitor stepped closer to the bird and made a shooing motion with their boney hand. The raven did not move. A small rattling sound came from the skeleton as they repeated the motion, this time with a bit more urgency. The raven only cocked its head to the side, as if studying the Janitor - or challenging them.
They didn’t have time for this. If they had eyelids, the Janitor would have narrowed them at the offending avian. Though the faintest pang of guilt poked at their existence (Soul? Heart? Whatever they had.), the Janitor took their broom in both hands and batted the dusty head in the bird’s direction. That certainly got the raven to move, but not too much. It jumped from side to side, avoiding the rough bristles. The Janitor grew more frustrated as the bird continued to refuse to vacate the area. In a quiet fury, the Janitor shook the broom this way and that in long swoops, nearly hitting the raven as it batted its wings and flittered into the air.
Not far enough for the Janitor’s liking, the skeleton continued their assault. The skeleton did their best to avoid striking the bird, but in their frenzy they lightly brushed the raven’s foot. This threw the raven off-balance; it sputtered for a second, dropping a few inches in flight before regaining its barrings and flying up through one of the open archways that served as windows. Before the Janitor could try and sweep it out of the hall and back out into the courtyard, a flurry of feathers briefly obscured their vision. The Janitor hurriedly took a few steps back, afraid the raven was coming to retaliate with beak and talons. Instead, as the feathers cleared, the raven had vanished - and in its place was someone the Janitor recognized.
“Hey hey hey!” the woman yelled, waving her arms to make the Janitor stop. “It’s me! Put the broom down. You’re going to take someone’s eye out with that thing!”
The Janitor lowered the broom, though it remained tucked close to their chest. A few wisps of blue hair getting caught in the rim of their glasses. For the moment, the skeleton was too distracted to tuck them out. Their piercing gaze stared at the substitute professor, who had seemed to appear from nowhere. The raven was gone and she remained. ‘It’s me!’ she’d said. The puzzle pieces soon fell into place in the skeleton’s mind.
They glanced back at the wall lining where the raven once sat, then looked back to the woman. A silent question. She answered it before the skeleton could sign it. “Uh, yeah, that was me.” The woman chuckled nervously as she tucked a midnight strand of hair behind her pointed ear. “Please keep it to yourself, okay? I don’t want it getting around, at least for now.”
The Janitor continued to stare in silence, bones ceasing their rattling. One of their gloved hands released the broom and signed, ‘Were you watching me?’
The woman nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I know it was probably rude. I just happened to be passing by and saw you working, and I’ve got a habit of watching people work.” A breeze passed them by - the skeleton was unbothered by the cold, and the woman’s black leather jacket shielded the skin of her arms from its nippy presence. Her tone and smile wasn’t condescending or babying like her father’s when he addressed the Janitor. “I can understand if you’d rather me not.”
The skeleton signed again. ‘I don’t mind.’
“As long as I don’t make a mess, right?”
The skeleton’s bones rattled as they nodded.
The woman laughed. “I don’t intend to, trust me. I know dad’s already got you working like a dog.” A brief few seconds of silence filled the space, then she added, “If he’s giving you too much, I can take some load off you. While I know it’s your job, he likes to shirk responsibilities he should really do himself when he can.” There was a slight bite to her tone - the Janitor knew it wasn’t directed at them. They could empathize.
‘I’m fine,’ they signed. ‘But if that changes, I’ll let you know.’
“Good.” The woman ran a hand across her scalp, fingers brushing the hair there. “I reel him in when I can. Mom would have done the same,” a small laugh left her, “though I’m sure she was far better at it than I am now.”
Mom. It was hard enough living with the reality that man had spawn, but a wife? Such a woman had to be as crazy as him…maybe. If this woman, Revon, was what the skeleton deemed sane, nice even, she had to have gotten it from somewhere. The Janitor had a really hard time imagining Crowley being into leather jackets, motorcycles, and rock music, anyway. If not her mother, the Janitor wondered who Revon got that from. If Revon wanted to keep her ability to morph into a raven, they’d likely never find out.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Revon put her hands in the pockets of her black jeans. “You need help with anything before I go?” The Janitor shook their head ‘no.’ “Alright. Have a good night, then.”
With a small salute of her hand, Revon turned to leave. After she took a few steps down the opposite way, the Janitor went the other to get back to work. The moon was almost at its highest point - it’d be the Witching Hour before they knew it. They preferred to take their break then, time enough to do their own thing. Just as the broom’s bristles hit the runner running along the stone floors of the hallway, the Janitor was interrupted once more. For who interrupted them, they supposed it wasn’t too bad.
“Oh, by the way,” the Janitor craned their skull to look back at Revon, now a good few feet away. “I don’t know if it’s in your job description, but if it is, don’t bother cleaning up around or tending to that big tree on the hill, okay?” The Janitor didn’t know which she was referring to. There were so many trees scattered about campus, and a small handful were located on hills. The woman must have sensed their confusion, for she clarified by saying, “The one we use for the Starsending event.” Oh yeah, that one. A far as they could remember, tending to that tree, indeed, wasn’t on their to-do list.
“I’ll take care of it,” Revon said. Perhaps their eyesockets narrowed or something because, once again, Revon answered the Janitor’s unuttered question. “It’s just a good bit of work, and I’ve done it for so long it’d hurt to stop. Don’t concern yourself with it, alright?” There was something behind those words…not exactly a warning, but the Janitor couldn’t find another definition for it. A plea, maybe? Whatever the context, the Janitor nodded in understanding.
“Thanks.” Revon gave a small wave, “See you later.” Maybe it was politeness, maybe actual sincerity, the way the Janitor waved back. The moment Revon’s back was turned to them, the Janitor got back to work. At the great speed gifted to them by the magic of their creation, the Janitor swept along the edges of the elongated rug - the task to be completed before they got to mopping. Better to sweep it first, so when they rolled up the rug before mopping dirt and debris would go flying, forcing them to sweep the stone floor all over again. They wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
The sound of fluttering feathers came from somewhere behind them. Right after came the sound of flapping wings. The Janitor glanced back just in time to watch a familiar raven soar into the sky, black visage just visible by the light of the moon. The Janitor watched the bird until it - her - disappeared from view, leaving the skeleton to their nightly duties. To thoughts that sometimes strayed to that towering tree and its large canopy of green on that rolling hill, and the family that, besides one irritating headmage, was left a mystery.
Content Warning: Minor Violence, spoilers for Chapter 5 of the game
Note: Another older piece of mine, which was also a commission. I still love this one and wanted to share it here. This piece can be taken as romantic or platonic. Takes place some weeks after the events of the VDC.
Vil sighed as he walked through the doors of Pomefiore. Though his heels clicked against the marble floor, he kept as quiet as possible, lest he wake the little potatoes slumbering in the various rooms. So, when Vil turned a corner, you can understand why he cursed the small yelp he released when someone was waiting for him.
“Good evening, Roi du Poison,” Rook greeted, a smile upon his face. “I’m pleased you returned safe and sound.”
“Rook, please!” Vil hissed, regaining his composure. He kept his voice low, the finger he brought to Rook’s lips signaling for him to hush as well. “The next time you wish to wait for me, do so at the door! Must you skulk around corners like some sort of ghoul?”
“Forgive me for the scare.” There was a small lint of amusement to Rook’s tone; Vil’s glare was one of true beauty. “I shall take your words to heart.” Rook moved behind Vil, following him down to the end of the hall. As Vil unlocked the door to his room, Rook asked, “I trust the photoshoot went well?”
“For the most part,” Vil replied, allowing Rook to enter with him, shutting the door softly behind them. “It was business as usual,” Vil seemed to growl as he shrugged off his coat, which Rook took for him, “and then I ran into Neige in the breakroom.”
“Oh?”
Vil sat on the stool in front of his vanity, delicately removing his heels. “Yes. Apparently, he was due for a commercial shoot around the same time.” Vil seemed to glare at the floor, the boy’s image fresh in his mind. “I honestly could have gone on longer without seeing him.”
Rook figured as much. VDC had ended weeks ago, and Vil recovered from his overblot. Neige was still unaware of Vil’s attempt to poison him - and Rook hoped it would stay that way. The boy wanted to have a friendship with Vil; put the rivalry Vil had built up aside and just let bygones be bygones. Though Vil tried to do the same, he still held resentment for Neige. Call it a force of habit or influence from others - perhaps it was even both. If only Rook could find a way to quench those flames of frustration…
As Vil continued to talk about Neige, the gears within Rook’s mind began to turn. Vil couldn’t take his anger out on Neige - he already saw what that could lead to. Simply yelling and clawing at a picture of the boy would not put Vil at ease. Vil needed something more tangible in which to take out his anger. Then, suddenly, an idea came to Rook’s mind; yes, it could work! Rook could easily acquire such a wig, and he could have a uniform tailored for the occasion. It was simply marvelous!
“Rook?”
Rook was snapped back to reality, blinking a few times as he focused back on Vil. The beautiful man’s eyebrows were furrowed, a puzzled expression coming across his perfect features. He must have found it odd that Rook didn’t bring commentary to his words, as he often did. To ease the housewarden’s worries, and to conceal the plan accumulating in his mind, Rook finally responded.
“Oh, pardonne-moi,” he smiled, “I was simply taking in your words. It would be quite rude to interrupt your tale before it was finished.”
Though Vil wasn’t entirely convinced, he let Rook’s odd behavior pass. Perhaps it was yet another one of his vice housewarden’s eccentricities peeking through. Beginning to unbutton his shirt, he spoke again, voice sounding more tired than before. “I know it’s unbecoming of me to ask you to leave when we’ve barely conversed, but…”
“Say no more, Vil.” Rook gave him a small bow, tipping his hat as he stood straight again. “You need your beauty rest; as a lover of beauty, I cannot bring myself to hinder that any further. Do you need anything before I retire as well?”
“No,” Vil gave Rook a tired, yet grateful smile, “thank you, Rook.”
“The pleasure is mine, Vil. I pray you have the sweetest of dreams and the most blissful of rests.”
With that, Rook exited the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Though he headed to his own room to sleep, he would not fall into bed just yet. Of course, there was the usual skincare routine and clothing change to get to - though a phone call would come before this time. The island’s tailor shop should be opened for another hour, if Rook was correct. Hopefully there was a tailor willing to take a rushed order.
Classes had adjourned for the day. Film club didn’t last too long - all that needed to be done was costume adjustments and script editing. Good thing too, as Rook asked Vil to meet him at the gym field that afternoon. Why, Vil had no clue. Ever the man of mystery, Rook was keeping the details of this little meetup a secret. Well, at least Vil didn’t have any photoshoots to get to.
As Vil finally made it to the edge of the field, he spotted someone in the distance. Supposing it was Rook waiting for him, Vil made his way to the person. As he got closer, however, the visage Vil beheld didn’t look like Rook. The person had short black hair, and was wearing an…RSA uniform? No…no, it couldn’t be. Oh Great Seven, why?! Was Neige that insistent upon becoming friends?
Vil’s eyes narrowed, that resentment of his coming back to the forefront. His walk turned into a march, hands balling into fists. He was going to tell Neige to leave the academy - his sight - immediately. However, as Vil drew near, he realized there was something different about Neige. When had he grown taller; when did he pack on muscle? Just then, the boy turned - what in twisted wonderland…?
“Bonjour, Vil!” Rook was practically beaming, hands gesturing down to his attire. “What do you think? Have I captured the look of your rival?”
Vil blinked a few times, trying to process the whole situation. Rook…was dressed…as Neige LeBlanche. Great Seven help him.
“Rook…why?”
Rook did not hesitate to reply. “I want you to take your frustrations out on me. It would not do well for your image to attack Neige directly. So, I have surmised this is best.” Rook presented himself to Vil like a sort of sacrifice - more than willingly. “Hit me, kick me, lay into me; strike me in any way you deem fit! If it will finally soothe the sorrow in your soul, I shall gladly bear the beating.”
He was mad - simply insane! Vil cannot even find the words to describe his shock. Usually, he would have a quip or lecture at the ready for something this foolish, but he simply cannot find one. Seeing Rook dressed as his rival was - ghastly? Was that even the word? It is disturbing, to say the least.
“Rook, this is unnecessary.” Vil sighed. “I appreciate you trying to help me, but I truly am fine.”
“Please, Vil,” Rook’s smile wavered, “you need not lie to me. I can see the turmoil in your eyes whenever Monsieur LeBlanche is even mentioned. Please, allow me to help you in this way.”
There he goes, being all determined - stubborn, really. Even so, Vil kept trying to convince the man to retreat from this foolhardy plan.
“You do realize I could easily send you to the infirmary.”
“Oui, I do.” Rook’s smile returned, looking a bit too happy about the idea. “Even if you rendered me to shattered bones and broken flesh, the pain would be well worth it. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you finally at peace, Roi du Poison.”
Will there ever be one as devoted to Vil as Rook? Vil himself does not know for sure. Though the hunter can be fickle, no one can question his loyalty to Vil, nor its bounds. There is truly nothing Rook wouldn’t do for him. Well, unless it came to voting between him and Neige. Vil learned that the hard way weeks ago.
Hmm…perhaps it was finally time for Vil to take out those frustrations as well. Though those nasty thoughts licked at his mind, Vil still tried to deter the man.
“Rook, thank you, really, but seeing you in this attire is…unnerving.”
“Would it be better if I were to turn around? I will be sure to keep my face out of your line of sight as you thrash me.”
Vil sighed once more. “I’m starting to think the prospect is enjoyable to you.”
“Aha!” Rook laughed. “Your wit will never cease to amaze me! But, yes, you are correct. To see the beauty of your anger; to feel your marvelous hands strike me; to have the wind knocked out of me with the swift kick of your heels - ah! Tres bien! Even if you should gouge my eyes out, I will be content in the fact the last thing my sight beheld was your beautiful self.”
This man…Vil cannot help but smile. “You’re insufferable; have it your way then.” Vil grabbed a hair tie from his pocket, beginning to pull back his hair. “I know you will pester me until I relent.” The twinge of a smirk tugged at Vil’s lovely lips. “I do hope you are prepared.”
Oh, Vil had no idea. The excited grin that spread across Rook’s face - should it concern Vil? Probably…but this is Rook. Should such odd thrills really surprise him anymore?
“My body is ready for you, Vil. Give me all you have, s’il vous plaît!"
It was Vil’s turn to laugh - such a sound was like birdsong to the hunter. “As you wish, you fool!”
Rook knew Vil won’t really give him his all. There was no sense in physically diminishing his vice housewarden, making him unfit for daily tasks. Even so, Rook was promised a beating, and he would certainly get one. The thrashing would be nothing short of marvelous!
Note: A bit of an older piece, but I saw it while sifting through the archives and decided to share it. I don't write for the bugger that much, so I hope y'all enjoy!
This piece takes place sometime in the future after you and Ruggie graduate NRC
You stand in front of the living room window, watching as droplets of rain pour from the sky and onto the ground outside. Though you often enjoyed such weather for how it put you at ease, the emotions you felt now were frustration and disappointment. Today’s plans were for a night out on the town: dinner and a movie, followed by milkshakes at the local ice cream parlor. You and your boyfriend had been planning it for weeks - it was going to be the perfect day! And then came the sudden rainstorm, which washed your plans down the sewer drain. You glared out at the streetlights, their glow hazy through the rain-splattered window panes. It was almost as though you blamed them for your sudden change of day.
The rain wasn’t the one at fault, however; honestly, it was just the icing on your cake of despondency. While the weather would have caused a bit of hassle, the real problem was your bank account: practically empty. You nor your boyfriend expected the air conditioning unit to shut down, the entirety of it so old you were forced to replace it. Combine that expense with the usual bills, groceries, and gas on your daily commutes, and you both were fresh outta cash. Leona was right: life really wasn’t fair, was it? Sighing to yourself, you let go of the curtain, letting it drape back over the window, shielding yourself and your small house from the outside world.
Just as you’re about to turn around, a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a warm chest. You feel a familiar nose nuzzle into the crook of your neck, their frown pressing against your exposed skin. Subconsciously, you reach back, running a hand through dirty blonde locks, fingertips brushing the base of a fuzzy ear pressed flat against the head of your hugger.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” he mumbles into your skin, sounding just as pitiful as you feel. “I guess I should have picked up a couple odd jobs to make sure we had enough, just in case something like this happened. I thought about it, but-”
“It’s not your fault, Ruggie.” You turn to face him, eyes taking in his depressing expression. He looks defeated - you probably looked the same just seconds ago. You wrap your arms around his shoulders - thankfully it wasn’t much of a struggle, as he isn’t much taller than you. “Stuff like this happens, and there’s nothing you can do.” You brush a strand of hair away from his face, fingers lingering upon his cheek as your gaze meets his. “I wouldn’t want you to work more than you already have; you do so much already.”
Ruggie seems like he’s about to protest, but the words die on his lips. He knows exactly what you’ll say: how good of a boyfriend he is, how hard he works, how proud you are of him. You’re always so sweet - a guy can only take so much before his head explodes from how flustered he gets. So, he simply lets out a sigh and nods.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He untangles his arms from around your waist, reaching his hand back to scratch his nape. “Soo…I really don’t know what else to do tonight. We can always reschedule, but…guess we’ll just be kinda sittin’ here.”
A smile tugs at your lips, releasing Ruggie from your hold. “We don’t necessarily have to have a normal night. We could always have a date here.”
Ruggie let out something between a scoff and a chuckle. “How’s that? We don’t exactly have anything special to cook here - doubt we have money to even rent a movie.”
He does have a point. There isn’t much in the pantry, besides the food you have lined up to cook for supper during the week, plus some lunch stuff. Also, like Ruggie said, you couldn’t rent a movie. However, you do have cable, plus a DVD player and a decent collection of DVDs. Hmm…you have an idea.
“C’mon.” You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a little squeeze. “I’ve got an idea.”
By the hand, you lead Ruggie across the room and into the small kitchen. As you let go of his hand, you open the pantry and fish out two packets of ramen. Ruggie eyes you curiously, watching as you close the pantry and place the packets on the counter next to the microwave.
“Can you get down two bowls?” you ask. “Grab some forks too.”
Ruggie lets out a small “mhm” as he does as you ask. Once he places the bowls on the counter, you empty the two packets into separate bowls, setting the little flavor pouches to the side. You don’t even have to ask Ruggie to fill the bowls with water - it’s basically instinct for him. You then put his bowl of ramen in the microwave as he fills up the other, setting the time for three minutes. You close the door and press the button that says “start,” bringing the microwave to life. As Ruggie sets the other bowl back on the counter, you turn and lean back against it, smiling up at him as you speak.
“Did work go well today?” you ask.
“Yeah, as good as it usually does,” he replies. “Nothing too exciting - had to convince a cricket to stop bothering a boy though.”
You two go back and forth like that for a short while, enough for one bowl of ramen to be done cooking, and another to be put in the microwave. Ruggie insists that the first bowl be yours; for him to have you eat before him is one of the many ways he says he loves you. As you stir in the flavoring of your ramen, Ruggie speaks up again.
“So, what exactly do you have planned?”
As you reply, you toss your empty flavor pouch into the garbage can. “I thought we could just eat ramen and watch movies. We can either see if there’s anything good on TV, or we can bust out the DVDs.” Your smile turns a tad mischievous with your last sentence. “And I just might have a little something special in mind after we finish our main course.”
Ruggie snickers as you mention the main course; ah, yes, cheap ramen: the most elegant of main courses. Still, his ears twitch in interest, raising an inquisitive brow at you. “And that special something would be…?”
You give him a small wink as the microwave beeps. “You’ll see~”
“Shishishi~” Ruggie’s wheezy little chuckle makes your smile grow soft once more. It’s one of the best sounds in the world - if not the best. “Alright, keep your secrets. It better be a good surprise though - gotta reward your hardworking man, y’know?”
“Mhm~”
***
The credits rolled across the TV screen, paired with a song you recognized, yet couldn’t recall the name. You sat up and stretched, popping your back with a sigh. You stood up from the couch, two empty bowls in hand, spoons that rested inside dotted with the remnants of ramen. You walked back to the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink to be washed later. Your feet then carried you over to the pantry; you reached out and opened the doors, fishing out the items you would need. Flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, cocoa powder, cooking oil, sprinkles…before you could tote the latter three ingredients to the kitchen counter (you really think you could have carried them all in one trip?), Ruggie was at your side, eyeing you curiously.
You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden appearance. “Just can’t take the wait, can you?”
“Aww, c’mon, humor me!” Ruggie’s ears flattened against his head, his face forming the biggest fake pout your eyes have ever beheld. “I’ve been a good hyena.”
“Have you now?~” You couldn’t help but muse at his attempt to convince you to spill the beans. Well…he was going to find out soon enough anyway. “Yeah, sure, I’ll tell you - it’ll be a lot more fun if we made them together.”
The pout was gone in a flash, replaced with a triumphant grin, tail wagging behind him. He pumped his fist as he mumbled “Score!” under his breath. You let out a small chuckle at the sight, right before you instructed him to fetch the butter and milk from the fridge. He did so without question, the ingredients on the counter in a flash. His inquisitive eyes scanned the items before him; what could you be planning?
“We gonna make a cake or something?”
“Something like that, yeah.” You bent down and opened one of the bottom cabinets, getting out a mixing bowl. Along with the bowl, you retrieved two smaller ones, a whisk, and a large measuring cup. Placing those items next to the ingredients, you continued. “We’ll need a pot and ladle later, plus the cooling rack and paper towels, but that’ll come later.” You began to measure out the flour in the measuring cup. “By the time the dough rises, we’ll have already finished another movie.”
Ruggie let out a small growl - something between frustration and anticipation. “Alright, quit keeping me in suspense!” His whine caused your smile to widen into a smirk. “What’re we making?”
“You remember when we went to your grandma’s for a visit last month?” Ruggie nodded. “Well, while you were washing the supper dishes,” you glanced over at him, “I maaay have finally gotten her to share her recipe for doughnuts.”
Ruggie’s pupils grew as big as saucers. For a moment, he stood there in stunned silence - it made you giggle and bat your eyelashes in feigned innocence. Before you could tease, Ruggie pounced, pulling you to him for a kiss. It was honestly he who teased you in the end, as he broke the kiss before you could really sink into it. The wide, happy grin on his face made up for that though.
“I fuckin’ love you!” he beamed, tail going nuts behind him. “You’re the best, you know that? Best girlfriend ever!”
You let out a giggle - he was just so adorable when he got excited. You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Why, thank you! I try~” You then stepped back and faced the counter to continue your measuring. “I was going to make these for you tomorrow for breakfast as a surprise, but since today didn’t work out like we planned I thought it’d be fun to make them together.”
Ruggie seemed to agree. He was the best little helper, passing you each ingredient and tool you needed. His gaze was glued on your hands as they mixed the ingredients, and later kneaded the dough. When your hands grew tired, he even took over, right up until you told him to stop. He placed the dough back in the bowl, which you then covered the top with a layer of plastic wrap.
“It’ll need to rise for about two hours before we can start shaping the doughnuts,” you said. “We can just leave the bowl here on the counter.” You turned to face him again; the hyena looked as amiable as a child on his birthday. “It’s your turn to pick out a movie.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that!” He quickly made his way out of the small kitchen, though paused just before he exited. He turned his head to look at you and asked, “Do you wanna play that board game we bought last week?”
“Yeah, I’m down for that! Just set it up on the coffee table - just move the stuff there to the recliner.”
Ruggie gave you a thumbs up before he scampered off - and then came right back. Though your smile remained, your expression grew puzzled. He wore that charming smile of his as he approached; what could he want now? He placed one hand on the small of your back and the other behind your head - and then he dipped you down and kissed you again.
You were not slow to respond this time. You ran your fingers through his messy dirty blonde hair; a hum of satisfaction rumbled in your throat as he deepened the kiss. Your nails gave the back of his ear a gentle scratch, and Ruggie practically purred in thanks. A good long minute later, he broke the kiss, though his forehead lingered against your own for a moment longer. His eyes gazed into yours, smile no longer charming, nor mischievous. You could only describe his overall expression now as happy, content.
“I love you, [Name].” He let forth a small, mumbled laugh. “I don’t think you’ll ever know just how much.”
“Maybe not.” You gave his ear another scratch; Ruggie had to catch himself, lest he collapsed on top of you for how nice it felt. Your lips formed a small amused, fond smirk at the reaction. “But I’ll certainly try to give you the same amount back.”
Ruggie’s orbs seemed to sparkle a little at your words. Could they even do that? Who cares?
Ruggie lifted you back up. His hand took yours, now being the one to lead you to the living room. Once there, he let you go so he could grab the board game from the bookshelf tucked into the corner of the room. He set it on the couch, then helped you clear off the coffee table. As Ruggie laid out the game onto the polished surface, you read the instruction manual. It wasn’t necessarily a new game: it was monopoly, but the so-called “cheater’s edition.” Besides a few new cards and game mechanics, there wasn’t much difference; you both just thought it would be a fun experience.
As you tossed the manual back in the box, Ruggie inserted another movie disc into the DVD player. He then made himself comfortable on the floor, his legs folded in a crisscross, hands placed on his knees. The two of you shared a smile from across the table, very much ready for your night of movies, board games, and doughnuts.
As I write the last of Trein's spotlight of Beach Episode, I wonder to myself what I'll write after the mini series is over. Of course, I still plan to write for Twisted Wonderland (I have a few ideas for Halloween, plus a few other things), but I'd like to integrate some other fandoms onto this blog.
I've been slowly delving back into Zelda recently (just completed the whole map of the Depths in Tears of the Kingdom); maybe I'll write for that fandom? I used to - it's just been some time since I've written for it, and it was mostly OC-related content. Would y'all like to see any of it? I can repost a few of those fics here, if anyone is interested. Oh, and Gravity Falls is also an option. I've missed it.
When you're writing two twst fics at once, catching up with new Gravity Falls lore and theories, and getting the itch to play Botw and Totk again - all at the same time.
There's a twink with a sword, a Catholic twink with a vendetta, and a triangle fighting for dominance in my mind palace and it's the oddest thing to date at the time of writing this post.
Just finished one college semester in a month - now onto the second semester. Trying to finish my degree in two years instead of four.
Can you tell I'm a Riddle type of person?
(Trein's beach episode is in the works; I'm figuring out the overall plot right now. Hope y'all are hungry for more old men!)
I've recently discovered that coloring and painting significantly lower my stress levels. I've found it shuts my brain off, basically. So, if you know any nice coloring books I might like, let me know! I'm especially in the market for ones made by artists on here and other platforms!
(I'm gonna get these really nice watercolor markers to color with. They look so nice - I've heard many good things about them! Hopefully they'll work well and for a long while lol. I've never spent so much on art products.)
