#*otp: rage and serenity

[quinloki]

I will die on Kid/Killer hill! No reader insert (though I do write it) but this is my otp, something about the whole “childhood-best-friends-turned-lovers” hits me in the heart just right. I’m in the middle of writing an A/B/O heat fic with Omega!Kid and Alpha!Killer which means I’m in a fluffy mindset for them, so I wrote this sweet little piece.

20 - Sneaking a romantic moment together

Moments like these were rare for the two of them, quiet, blissful. Stars sparkled across the surface of the calm sea, waves lapping at the sides of the Victoria Punk. Kid sat on the railing of the main deck, legs dangling precariously over the water, but the Devil Fruit user wasn’t scared of falling in. He couldn’t, not with his First Mate, life long best friend and lover - Killer - standing behind him, arms wrapped around his middle, unmasked chin resting his red coated shoulder. It was Kid’s turn for night watch, and although Killer was exempt from the duty altogether because he was the ship’s cook and had to get up early every morning as it was, he still insisted on joining his Captain. A little moment of serenity in a raging sea of chaos. Killer sighed, nuzzling his nose into the side of Kid’s neck and the redhead smiled, reaching back to card scarlet painted nails through the older man’s golden mane.

Life was good.

😭❤️‍🔥

Oh my boys! They deserve all the love and all the tender moments and I love this so much! I love that while Kid - as the captain - has to take his turn at Night Watch, Killer - as the Provider of Food - gets a pass.

Priorities. And they are in the right place too. XD

hmm... Sneaking Romantic moments together.

Portgas Ace x Reader Style You didn't have to sneak quiet moments together, not really, but you didn't want to deal with the rest of the crew. It was just easier to keep it quiet, to keep it between the two of you and no one else. You were pretty sure everyone else knew, it was the worst-kept secret on the ship.

Ace's hands were hot against your skin. Burning into the small of your back and dancing along the nape of your neck. You were tucked tight against him, out of the view of the hall, but not in the safety of a room. You just wanted this moment, sweet and fleeting, before things really slowed down and you could spend more energy and time on one another.

A snack, maybe, something to tide over the voracious need you seemed to have for one another. You shifted his hat from his head, using it to block out more of the world as you lean in and erase the small gap between you.

His lips are warm as his hands, the need of him nearly burning into your own breath, dancing hot, spiced breath that always tasted like cinnamon and heat. The hint of honey on your lips from the mead you'd been nursing in the haze of the evening mingled and spurred him on.

ask game post

[lonkboi]

[hana-bean]

Close to you (1/7)

Hi everyone! Happy SeiUsa Week 2021! Please enjoy this seven-chapter installment in celebration of the ultimate OTP!

~~~

Everyone walks on To meet just one person someday

---

“Boo! You suck!”

Seiya ducked to the side to avoid an oncoming empty beer bottle flying his way, shattering as it hit the stage floor. He scowled as he grabbed the microphone with the other hand still on his guitar neck.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Get off the stage!” Another bottle started flying, this time in between him and the second guitar player, Yaten.

The bar owner soon sprinted toward the musicians and on the stage, trying to avoid various other objects projecting through the air in the meantime.

“Guys, you got any other songs to play?”

Taiki, who was standing in the back at a keyboard, walked up to join the conversation. “What other songs? This is all we know.” He explained while kicking off a half-eaten chicken wing that landed on his shoe.

“You play the same set every night. They want something fresh.”

“Well, maybe you need to get more patrons instead of the same ones every night,” Yaten growled with a lime green twitchy eye. “It’s not our fault your regulars live here.”

“Listen,” the owner paused to grimace in figurative pain as he felt something wet hit his back. “You need to mix it up.”

“We can’t,” Seiya replied firmly. “We need to play these songs.”

“Then pack it up. The show’s over.”

Yaten released his guitar in order to gesture to drive his point across, letting it hang on his neck. “No! You need to let us play!”

“Not a chance, Napoleon. You’ll drive away my tenants!” The owner glared.

That was it—and not that it usually took very much anyway—Yaten was over the edge. He lifted the strap over his head and tossed his instrument to Taiki before tackling the owner to the stage floor with his standard flying squirrel technique.

“Yaten, what the fuck?!” Seiya removed his guitar and went to work trying to pry his bandmate from atop the owner, or at least he tried; Yaten had the grip strength of a coconut crab despite being the smallest of the three of them.

But that was all the patrons needed as a reason to get in on the action. They stormed the stage with their rage and beer bottles ready, even turning on one another and the instruments. Some who didn’t choose violence for a Tuesday night contacted authorities on their crystal cell phones as they made their exit; the other portion used them to record the melee from their tables.

Seiya soon felt the weight of three men come at him at all sides; his only instinct to protect his head before the four-person clump of testosterone toppled two feet down and off the stage. Immediately, he felt a pain shoot from his knee all the way up to his hip as something heavy and drunk landed on his leg. Seiya wriggled and scooted as much as possible to free himself, but since his body was the one that absorbed most of the impact, the attacking men had the advantage to quickly begin their beatdown.

He managed to curl up in the fetal position as feet and fists made contact with every part of his exposed body. But then, allowing himself to only feel like a failure for a few seconds, he made a quick decision and reached within his jacket for his headset.

“Fighter Star Power, Make Up!”

As the transformation alone knocked the three men on their backs, their world was forever rocked when they looked upon a leather-clad woman standing in place of the male musician once the music and sparkles had faded.

“He’s a guardian?!” One yelled, completely stupefied.

Sailor Star Fighter cocked an eyebrow as she smirked, her Star Yell ready in hand.

“Remind me again: what do you think of my songs?”

By then, three police officers had come through the entrance. Their hands floated above their holstered guns on their hips as they were visibly surprised and uneasy.

“Guardian! Put your weapon down!”

“It’s the cops! Run!” A voice shouted. The chaos simply transformed from scuffle to stampede as people began to book it for any exit they could find.

The authorities were soon knocked down from the rush, however one was able to take out her radio and plead into it, “Ten-seventy-five! We need guardians! Get us guardians!” until it was kicked out of her hand from an escaping patron.

Taiki and Yaten came up behind Star Fighter—donning a few scratches, cuts, and tousled hair—all the while still moving pretty well.

“Seiya, you dumbfuck, why’d you transform?” Yaten chastised.

“I’m the dumbfuck?” Fighter gave her crazy eyes. “They were going to kill me!” For a split second, she forgot about her leg and put weight on it while yelling back. However, the appendage was quick to remind her that something was wrong. She winced and seethed in a breath as she fell on Taiki for support.

“Let’s get out of here,” Taiki suggested calmly as he wrapped Fighter’s arm around his neck. Yaten followed suit on the other side.

They only had to contend with navigating through a few scattered stragglers before the three made their way toward the emergency exit by the stage. Taiki kicked the door open only to be met with two obstacles standing in their way, both clad in Milky Way guardian uniforms. One was in a dark blue and yellow color combination with short blonde hair, the other in dark blue and teal with medium-length teal hair.

“Not so fast.”

---

Seiya sighed as he dropped his head on the headrest in the backseat of the police car. The authorities were escorting him from a hospital where his wounds were attended to, and he was now alone. Or rather, separated from Taiki and Yaten. His only company was the two guardians from the bar—whom he was squished in between—and a uniformed officer at the wheel.

He cleared his throat to get attention from anyone. “What did you do with my friends?”

“They’re at a detention center.” The blonde guardian answered, void of emotion, keeping her focus out the window.

“A detention center? Why?”

“Because they’re here illegally. You all are. You should be there, too.”

Fuck, that’s not good. That’s not good at all… But it still didn’t explain… “So where are you taking me then?”

“The queen would like an audience with you.” The teal-headed one answered while busy on her crystal smartphone, having removed a glove for her screen to sense the natural heat of her thumb. A half-filled plastic grocery bag also sat on her lap.

“The queen?” Seiya tried to use his hands to emphasize his confusion, however, his handcuffs clanked in protest. “What does she want with me?”

“It doesn’t matter what she wants—she calls, you come.” The blonde turned her head to look at him with stern blue eyes.

He knew there was no use prying anymore. The blonde had already knocked him around a few times before getting to the hospital, so he knew he risked further physical punishment if he did so. Any other day he would find the pain worth it if it meant annoying her, but his body was already unbearably sore in places he didn’t realize he had.

Meeting with the queen also had him a bit concerned for his well-being. He figured it had something to do with being a guardian, but what exactly does she plan to do with him and that information? He had heard she was a kind and just ruler, albeit young, but from his years of intergalactic travel before ending up in Crystal Tokyo, it could very well be propaganda.

He guessed he was about to find out.

Once the car made it to the bridge that led to the palace, one needed two hands to count all the checkpoints. The palace seemed to be built specifically to reflect the moonlight, producing a daytime-like glow once they were on royal grounds. However, the car parked in front of an inconspicuous building behind a row of trees a couple of minutes shy of the actual palace, and then the blonde dragged Seiya out of the vehicle by his handcuff chains, causing his shiny black cane to drop on the ground. Diagnosed with a temporary disability from his hurt leg, the doctors issued the walking aid to help with his mobility for the next couple of weeks, but the blonde didn't care.

“Haruka, be gentle.” The teal-headed guardian chided.

“Why?”

“You know how handcuffs can hurt if you’re too rough.”

“And you will know, too… once we’re done tonight.”

Seiya raised an eyebrow, wondering if they knew their whispering wasn’t really whispering; he even caught the driver looking back with a nosy eye. Feeling a sense of dread of being transported to a second location, he limped along slowly, following the driver inside the building while trailed by the guardians.

He was led to a room that was comfortably simple and aesthetically feminine—its motif included ribbons, swirls, and florals in a combination of white and pink colors. And a small white round table sat in the middle of the space with four plush boudoir chairs surrounding it. Seiya even picked up on the scent of stargazer lilies before he noticed them sitting on a side table by the door.

But apparently, there was no time to take in his surroundings as he felt a shove on his back, forcing him to keep his balance with his bad leg. He turned around to glare at the blonde guardian.

“Hurry up!” She pointed inside the room with irritation emanating from her whole body. “The queen is on her way!”

Seiya grumbled and hobbled over to take his place in a chair, releasing a tired sigh. All he wanted was to get this over with and back to his mission. He hated how his only hope rested within the hands of the queen; it made him feel helpless and idle.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door of the building open, followed by both guardians bowing on the other side of the threshold at an unseen presence. Assuming the queen herself had arrived, Seiya pulled himself to his feet with the aid of his cane and the table.

"Uranus! Neptune!"

“Neo-Queen Serenity.”

---

---

If you would like to follow this story, I will be updating the rest of the chapters under the tag: hana-bean close to you and other iterations of the spacing. I love you all!

[iamnightduchess]

As You Are - Special Chapter (R18) : Perfect Storm

Chapter summary:

The ethereal vision that greeted his eyes upon entry should be that of one of the forbidden sins in the history of humankind. She was even more breathtakingly beautiful in her purest form - scars and marks, imperfections and all.

Like the cracks on an unbreakable golden chalice.

He was the luckiest son of a gun to be the first to drink from said chalice and it made the wine tasted even sweeter. He could get drunk or get high on this woman for all eternity.

Reiner realizes he might have just unleashed an unstoppable storm when he drank from her chalice. He’d known she'd become an inescapable addiction upon first taste, the way he would be hers. He’ll get her so high, she’ll never come back down anymore. It’s a perfect extrication.

Well, you’ll never get to heaven if you’re scared of getting high.

Pure smut. A 10k special Thank You insert. Available on AO3.

A/N: This chapter is a special insert as an appreciation to my beautiful readers for their amazing support in helping me achieve my second personal writing milestone - 10k hits! It’s beyond my wildest dreams ever. Thank you so much, guys! This is also my personal belated birthday present for Mikasa on 10 February (and Reiner’s VA ;D) and an early Valentine’s gift to my beloved OTP and to you guys. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Content note: Pure smut in its truest explicit nature. No plot advancement. Just a good ol’ short chapter of ReiKasa dicking it out in the showers, discovering more of each other and a post-coital small talk on Reiner’s personal choice of drawers. Or lack of it. Who says Reiner is not taking their baby making efforts seriously? Takes place in ch.12 of As You Are.

Rhythmic muse: High by Alina Baraz.

----

Take me deep into your mind...we can get away…

As You Are

Special Chapter

Perfect Storm

Reiner closed the distance that stood between the bed and the bathroom in three long, hurried strides. He couldn’t be bothered with fixing his yukata; he let the shift hang open, letting himself hang out in the open. The sounds of the morning storm and early rolling thunder in the far horizon had been almost deafening, only several knots away from being too close to their fleet. The breeze slipping through the opened windows grazed against his nude torso in a prickling coldness. The second he stopped short in front of the steel arc of the bathroom door, he remained still.

His eyes glazed over the statuesque figure standing underneath the pouring shower, covered by only skin - porcelain, smooth, inviting. Sounds of the raging storm outside only emphasized more of this mystifying woman's beauty in its natural state, no different than a tantalizing spell cast by nature itself. The steam evaporating from the showerhead formed a curious, enticing silhouette around her body. His eyes lingered fondly at the way she closed her eyes in bliss under the long steady streams of hot water flowing down those supple skin, tinting her lusciousness raw with a delectable blush. Serene, lost in her own tranquil space.

Apart from bearing the reddening imprints that he’d left on her long slender neck from their lovemaking much earlier, between the enticing lines of her svelte curves and enticing edges, her creamy skin wore numerous dark marks and scars with their respective stories - ones that he was very aware of mostly. Long-term ODM usage would be responsible for most of them.

Others?

They were beckoning him to seek out the answers.

Just half an hour earlier, his body took hers for the first time. Reiner tasted heaven when she reeled him in to the deepest, most sacred part of her. With every pull and every push, he could feel himself unburdened everytime their hips met.

Lighter and unshackled.

Liberated and wanted.

Desired and needed.

The water flowed down her face and he found himself becoming envious of the way the warm liquid gets to lave at those long lashes, the sharp outline of her nose and her lips in a soft translucent caress.

He had all of her and he was left wanting more.

Reiner shrugged the night shift off his shoulders without any hesitation and stepped into the bathroom. A small marble tub, almost full to the brim, sat at the farthest corner of the room just next to an old gold-framed wall mirror which appeared to be more relic than vanity. In the dim lighting of the clouded sun peeking through the windows, the steaming water looked absolutely inviting.

A sigh escaped his lips. He could really use a good, long soak right now.

A low, guarded moan pulled his attention back to the now flushing body underneath the flowing water. He ran his tongue against his thin lips impulsively at the visual stimulation; she was as vivid, tempting, no different than a marble carved into perfection. All hard and muscled exterior, safeguarding the soft centre within. Painted with dark marks of bruises and battle scars of untold histories - a privilege he no longer had since the moment he inherited his Titan powers at the age of eleven. But she wore them naturally with effortless pride. Priceless yet they're worth more than some steel medal of honors he’d seen the men in Marley’s military fought to the death for.

Reiner closed the distance between them, stopping just in front of her with their bodies almost grazing. She opened her eyes, those anxious gunmetal irises in between the flowing water somehow confided that just like him, she’d never been this exposed; naked and vulnerable in front of another person in her whole entire life before. He saw the way she crossed her arms against her chest and the juncture of her thighs in uncertainty, conscious and suddenly feeling the need to cover herself even when he’d seen almost all of her much earlier.

He lifted her chin with a delicate touch. The pad of his thumb began to caress the outline of her lush pursed lips before tugging her lower lip gently, savoring the sensuous way her breath felt against his skin and the feral manner she bit at his fingertip.

His member twitched in reflex upon the sudden stimulation, threatening to break his own self restraint.

He grinned regardless. Apparently, he’s not the only biter in this marriage and that realization only got him being turned on more than ever before. Eager to find out just how much more wicked she could be. Just how much more of him she’d bite.

Reiner nudged her arms away from her chest gently, marveling as the perky globes bounced softly from the slight movement and finding himself staring far too long in amazement at the tempting blush on her face leading all the way down her drenched neck and to her chest. His hands began to knead the sculpted packs on her abdomen instead, touching a much larger discolored mark encircling her under chest, that resembled the shape of a large incomplete strap that was far too large to be from the ODM gear.

He couldn't help but wonder. "How did you get this?" His hands continued rubbing against the mark that stood out so painfully amongst her pale, milky complexion.

She swallowed bitterly, her expression darkened as a wave of recollection began to resurface. "The day you and Bertholdt tried to take Eren, I had been reckless. I was too focused on saving Eren from your titan's clutch that I was grabbed by a pure titan from behind. It broke my ribs immediately and I might have died that day if it wasn't for Jean's help." From the way she winced, it made him understand that the mark remained capable of inciting an unpleasant phantom pain upon reminiscence even years after it happened. She conceded to her own insecurity, reaffirming his perception. "It's ugly. I hated seeing it every time I looked at the mirror."

It was him, his ignorance and his selfishness who had indirectly caused that mark and left her with a painful reminder that she could never get rid of from her body.

His first mark on her body ever.

Reiner gritted his teeth in tremendous guilt and frustration. God, he didn’t know. It must have been extremely excruciating for her. He immediately lowered himself downwards with his knees rooted onto the cold bathroom floor, causing her to gasp and eyes to widen in surprise. Grabbing her on the curves of her waist, he looked up and sent her a grave look of regret. “I’m so sorry for all that I’ve done to you. All the pain that I’ve caused….” His apology manifested itself through a morose whisper. The warm of his breath, the tantalizing graze of his coarse facial hair and the light brushing of his lips against her taut skin sent the rippling muscles of her abdomen jumping in an enticing jolt. He could feel her hands grabbing the back of his head gingerly, fingers gripping his now wet tresses, her calm breaths getting heavier yet he didn't do anything further than burying his face against her torso even when his lips were already close to her mound. “Don’t hate the mark. Hate me. I did that to you.”

“No. I won’t.” Mikasa shook her head, dismissing the absurdity in his plea.

She thinks the mark is hideous yet not even once, ever held him accountable for it. 

It only made her even more exquisite in his eyes. He implored, “Anything on you or what you are would never not be beautiful to me.” 

They both remained still in that quiet moment, losing themselves in their own intimate sanctuary. Only the sound of running water and the steady storm outside accompanied their mutual embrace of the other's past sins, repercussions and acceptance of each other's flaws and imperfections.

----

Mikasa pushed Reiner’s rock hard body against the cold bathroom wall using her own as their lips once again tried to wrestle each other out of an imbalance between air, warmth and rapture using their tongues and teeth. Torsos and limbs brushing up against each other, his larger hands grabbed the supple exterior of her derriere, cupping and squeezing them raw with his palms - he could even write his name on the supple skin using his finger nails. He pressed inwards so that their hips grinded tantalizingly against each other in a torturous friction. His member then jerked upwards into a semi-hardening state from feeling her on him alone. He breathed her in; her signature scent was already bathing his skin and his body already stained by her warmth.

Mikasa pulled away from the kiss and gazed deep into his eyes. While he took advantage of the immediate breather to touch the tip of his nose against her own, causing the corners of her lips to curve upwards into a tiny, shy smile.

He'd only ever dreamed of being in heaven but if this feels like being in one, then he’d rather stay like this with her forever. His hands fiddled around the curves of her waist, squeezing the willowy contour passionately, loving the feel of her soft wet skin in his hands.

Her fingertips kept on trailing along the column of his neck, grabbing gently at his nape before settling on his shoulders, gripping carefully at the juncture of his limbs to soothe the strained muscle knots she’d discovered there. Her dominant hand later began trailing along his sternum, a finger drawing a straight, tantalizing line down his chest. Through every inch of skin that she touched, he could sense a tiny spark pulsing through his veins, reawakening the already satiated lust within.

A small hiss escaped through his gritted teeth the second her roughened palms caressed his chest with languid but precise circular motions. He observed the way her thumbs traced unhurried circles against the second most sensitive spots on his body and the way the muscles of his own pectorals and abs jumped in reflex from her touch.

Reiner let out a long languid whimper upon the sudden exhilaration. Mirroring her actions, a hand moved upwards from the rounded mound of her ass along her spine teasingly before curving sideways. His large palm seized one of her porcelain globes in his hold and he pressed on the dusky nub using his thumb, rubbing the hardened tip with the cautious of touch. Nibbling tenderly on her cheek, his question came out in a low, shaky drawling against her ears. “Mikasa...how do you want me to touch you...fast or slow….?”

Her answer came in the lowest, deepest whimper from her chest. “Either...Just keep going...” Eyes tightly shut, his younger bride threw her head back in an increasing rapture and a low, unguarded groan escaped her gasping lips upon the intensity of his touch. He watched in wonder, tinged with a tiny pride upon the new discovery - she’s extremely sensitive there it seems.

This exotic beauty's body is a dynamite yet at the same time, an undiscovered wonderland, primed for his lifelong conquest - one he'll never want to stop worshipping.

Through every breath and every inch.

Through every touch and through every kiss.

The tip of his nose ventured from her temple down her slender neck before halting right above the swelling of those appetizing twin mounds of her chest. Kiss her he did, at the same spot he just savored. He drew the outline of the weighty globe with his tongue, suckling hard and absolutely losing himself to the bliss of her skin’s sweetness to the way her soft cries sounded to his ears - muffled by his messy wet tresses, ensnared by her own open mouth kisses. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his scalp as her heaving became more urgent. His plastering bangs grazed her chest until they turned into a flushing mess.

His other hand had already made its own bold move by slipping in between the juncture of her thighs and running the pads of his digits across her wet slit. She immediately gritted her teeth upon the sudden invasion, probably due to the soreness from his earlier thrusting, but he’d sooner turned her hissing to another wave of moans when he caressed her lower mound with a wickedly soothing rhythm. 

Too lost he was in the beguiling pleasure that would sooner overtake all sense of inhibition that he’d missed the way her nimble hand had already wrapped itself around his member, already stretched out to its peaked state. The coolness of her palm burned the most sensitive part of his body as the skillful hand of a competent blade wielder projected her prowess through the way she handled his length -- with thorough, natural precision.

He just kept on growing stronger in her hands.

No one has ever made him feel like this before.

No one.

He could feel as if his soul was leaving the confinements of his physical form the moment he saw her dropping down to her knees, just like he did with her earlier. However this time, when she gazed at him with those tempestuous eyes and burning cheeks, he’d know he’ll never be able to resist her newly-unearthed desirous appetite.

It was quite contradictory that even when he’s the one who’s looking down at her right now, she’d always have the power to make him yield to her silent commandeering force.

Despite the flowing water washing away at their skins, he’s still stained by her; her essences seeping through his pores in unwavering waves no different than a perfect raging storm piercing through a man’s perseverance.

Oh God, she’s just naturally good at blowing him... and his mind.

----

He ran his lips against the irezumi on her back, drawing a cross with his tongue like a sacred offering, lapping up the water drizzling down her skin like the nectar of an exotic flower. Right before he filled the impure void within through one messy yet solid thrust into her, clinging to her lithe body from behind as they fell into a familiar, acquired rhythm not too long after.

He pulled her in for another searing kiss from behind. His other hand underneath one of her knees, his larger build pressed her slightly smaller frame hard against the wall through every onslaught of his hips against hers. Both of them were getting off of the high from the other.

Mikasa’s relentless moans soon turned into a long, dragged out, almost incoherent chanting of his name; urging him, needing him with every part of her being, that she’d broke the skin on his forearm when she became undone on his third deep thrust.

Reiner observed the way Mikasa tried to wash away the bleeding from the bite-shaped bruise on his arm with the water from inside the tub itself. He dismissed her attempt by pulling her body snug against his chest, staring at the mark in awe and reassuring her with nothing less than pride in his tone. “Hey, that’s my first mark from you.” He still remembered how she managed to cut off the same hand clean from his wrist on top of Wall Rose years ago.

“It’ll be a scar.” She persisted, still trying to argue with his insistence.

She gave him his first mark and without his regenerative powers, that mark will remain on his body forever until he’s buried six feet under.

He buried his nose into her drenched hair, taking in the scent from the glycerine soap he used on her earlier. “All the better because it’s from you.”

They stayed for a while inside the ceramic tub, with her head resting against his shoulder and his arms around her, listening to the sounds of rolling thunder and turbulent sea waves coming through the opened windows of the bathroom.

After a good while, it was her who suggested that they step out and step back into the awaiting demands of the day. “We should really get going before Gabi storms in for another ‘rescue’ attempt.”

Snickering, he released her reluctantly and sent an admiring stare at her retreating figure, still dripping with bath water until she disappeared behind the door to their shared chamber.

By the time he followed suit into the conjoined bedroom, she had pulled her skirt over her hips. She stared in disbelief the moment she saw him discarding the towel around his waist and had his legs through his breeches immediately.

Her inquisitive gaze did not go unnoticed. “What? I travelled light and I wasn’t expecting the detour to the Island.” Everything he had was on his body.

“All this time, you’re…” Her words trailed off suspiciously.

A thin eyebrow raised snarkily to emphasize his answer. “Yeah. I’d prefer not wearing one either way. It’s breezier and actually a much healthier habit too.”

“Whatever suits you.” Mikasa shook her head, feigning an impending state of disinterest while fending off an oncoming headache.

He gave her an improper wink. “You’ll thank me when I have given you healthy, kickass babies, Mikasa.”

She groaned in retaliation at his blatant lewdness. A trait of his that has always been apparent since they were younger still remained despite the years that had gone by in between. Despite all that, she couldn’t help her lips from curving into an amused smile.

Just a fleeting thought of envisioning a strong young boy or a girl with golden blonde hair, cheeky comebacks and a headstrong attitude was enough to make the fuzziness in her heart return right before the fleeting fantasy was interrupted by the same vision but with three more of the same identical boys and girls and a burning house of chaos behind them.

“....four be a lot?”

“Huh?” She blinked back at his question.

“I was asking, would four babies be a lot for you?”

She’d known it was an intended humor. They both knew that he couldn’t possibly have enough time for such an unattainable dream. She wasn’t oblivious to the dismal glint in his eyes.

“Perfect.” Her heart suddenly felt a lot heavier.

---

A/N : After what went down in the previous chapter, I am willing to be virtually sucker-punched by you guys because of this chapter. I am hurting my emotional well-being with this chapter, and I said to myself, why should I be suffering alone? Haha Kidding, guys. Thank you so much for your time & till the next update! Take care & stay safe. xoxo

[roselevesque]

Katara for the character ask!

For the ask game

favorite thing about them: She's resilient, firm in her beliefs and hopes and I think it makes her all the more admirable and all the more compelling when those views are challenged and the result is either not in her favour or is muddy. She's so fiercely kind and yet capable of rage, a bad temper and vindictive episodes. It's a joy to see her positive aspects not being diminishe by her shortcomings, because warmth and cold are often two edges of the same blade and Katara being fluid between them is especially compelling with her status as a waterbender.

least favorite thing about them: Probably the way she snaps at people and hurts them at times, I am particularly embarrassed during those moments because it reminds me much of myself sadly

favorite line: "I don't know if it's because I'm too weak to do it, or if I'm strong enough not to."

brOTP: The Gaang, but Toph and Zuko in particular

OTP: Kataang and Katoph

nOTP: Z*tara

random headcanon: She loves exploring the sea with her waterbending. There are days if she's ever near a beach when she'll spend hours wandering going aboveunder water, above, then back under, strectching the limits of her bending

unpopular opinion: Yes, Katara is undoubtedly a mature girl and she has the tendency to "mommy" those she holds dear, but she's sometimes reduced to just that in fandom spaces. Katara can be childish, in a good and a bad sense! Behind the wisdom she carries there is stilll a little kid whose childhood was lost after her mother's death. That doesn't mean that the other extreme of demonizing Katara for her trauma is any less annoying. She is not a saint, but as she said: she'd never turn her backs on people, much less her loved ones! In the end, even after a big argument, Katara would find herself in the end to cross the bridge and patch things. Maybe not today or the next day, however one day. So seeing her as either the personification of a calm and serene grown woman trapped in a teenager or a jealous, venomous harpy frustrates me.

song i associate with them: This part frustrates me so, because I don't really asociate songs to characters. It rarely happens

favorite picture of them: this one

[groovyxgenes-archive]

;; the most unrealistic part of x-men: first class is erik and charles sitting on the steps of the lincoln memorial in front of the washington monument completely alone. i don’t care what time of year it is, people flood that place.

so the only explanation is that charles literally mind controlled all the tourists away so that he could have a private chess date with his new boyfriend in the nation’s capital and watch the sunset.

and if that’s not the most romantic shit ever idk what is

[deimoslunaa]

i have this really awful head canon that the real trigger behind charles losing control over his powers and killing all those people was because he felt erik die and he wasn't there beside him to say goodbye for the last time

[juravern]

Meme: Three OTP Questions

@anecdotesandelderthings Thanks very much for the tag XD.

As much as I love Scourge/Huath and Huath/Kira, given that their answers to these questions would pretty much run alongside canon, that’d be a bit boring. So we’re doing Delven/Kyroth instead. Kyroth Ford is the Jedi Consular of my SWTOR headcanons.

1. How did they first meet?

The first time they ever encountered each other, for a vague definition of it, it was on Nar Shaddaa, and one was a human who hid half his face behind long feathery locks of dark hair and couldn’t hide his skinniness with his black Sith apprentice robes, and the other was a Miraluka who didn’t really ‘see’ any of that, and instead sensed that the individual passing by on the other side of the Promenade square had an odd Force presence; it neither crackled with pain and rage, nor shone with serenity, but rippled gently like waves upon the surface of a sea, that went down, down, down into fathomless deep.

The first time they actually stood face-to-face and had a conversation, it was much later, calf-deep in the snow with the so-called Eternity Vault looming before them, each of them with a Council seat and bigger concerns than the Jedi-Sith divide.  

2. What did they think of each other at first?

Ky was an empath, and so from the first meeting, what coloured his opinion wasn’t recognising the notorious Darth Imperius who had clawed his way up the hierarchy on top of a no-doubt impressive kill count, but recognising that cool, deep Force presence that said, pained yet undeniably true, that I don’t want to kill anyone, but people who get in my way don’t stay there for long.

He found that very, very interesting.

Delven wasn’t an empath, so his Force senses only really picked up mild amusement and a light, sharp presence to the dark-skinned man before him with the opaque metal glasses, wild head of dreadlocks, and an outfit of black leather and bright neon purple armorweave. Not really the look he’d have expected of any Jedi, much less the Master who had led armies in retaking Corellia and been recently named to the Council.

Which was maybe a good thing, because then Kyroth Ford threw yet another Jedi stereotype out the window by agreeing to shelve the Jedi-Sith pissing contest in favour of working together against whatever was waking up within the Vault and making grandiose proclamations. 

It said something about the kind of life Delven led, that such sensibility immediately put the Miraluka pretty high up in his estimation, enemy or no.

3. Were they immediately interested/attracted or did that come later?

No one had any time for attraction in the middle of life-and-death situations, but:

Delven already admired the way Kyroth spun and whirled through combat with the violet blur of his saberstaff, all lithe grace and disproportionate strength, long before they sat down together in the cantina on Odessen and he felt the sudden urge to proposition him.

Ky already admired the skill in Delven’s healing touch, and the dry wit in the way he spoke, long before he reached across the table and tugged the Alliance Commander in for a kiss.

Tagging: IDK, @spindlewit, @sonneillonv, anyone else who wants to do this but seriously, no pressure.

[sethnakht]

For the ask meme...Vader/Padme? Like, post-Mustafar Vader.

Sorry this took so long, love. Had to think about it, then got caught up in dissertating, then self-absorbed by depression. Woke up today and realized it was time to respond. That being said, I’m not very good at this sort of meme — I clam up and say things wrong — so don’t expect too much. Would be very excited to see your own response to this one!

Give me a CHARACTER or a SHIP, and I will bold the statements that are true, and elaborate on my preferences and specific narrative kinks where I am so moved.

Do not want. Ptooey.

I am neutral, indifferent and serene. Send me a rec and change my mind.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they’re in it.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they get a happy ending.

Break them and make them bleed.

Swaddle them in fluff.

I’m mostly interested in gapfilling and exploring their canon interactions.

Throw the canon out the window; bae deserves better.

By which I don’t mean: throw the suit out the window.  If I’m invested in anything wrt Vader, it’s characterization that is committed to the suit and all the structures and problems and possibilities it creates. Stories where Vader can be returned to a baseline self/identity with the right treatment in a straightforward linear process are certainly given legitimacy through the Special Edition of RotJ; stories where Vader is basically unaffected by the suit have their merits (I liked a lot of things about the Soule comic, in which the suit was largely irrelevant). But when I am dreaming on my own I prefer things messy, gory, without easy solutions. I’m wary of models of the mind-body relationship that essentialize identity — I like things fluid and reflective. Basically, I come to fic and comics about Vader to explore the lack of a sense of self, to think about fragmentation, trauma, grief, damage, the uncanny, the amorphous nature of the mind. The suit is integral to that field of thought.

I … am struggling to talk about Padmé, because … not only did she ABSOLUTELY deserve better, there is a part of me that refuses to be reconciled to her death, even though I can appreciate the irony, the tragedy, the parallelism, etc. How to put this… I want stories where Padmé is more than a symbol, more than her relationship to Anakin or her children … I want to see her own trauma play out, her own cracked mirrors, her own shifting sense of self, her own fight with her body, mind, the structures she has created and was shaped in, the blind spots flaring open wide … for her own ambitions and complicity and power-lust to be factors … and you see why this meme took me so long to answer.

Here’s a different way of putting it. I’m old, so my understanding of Padmé was formed in that period before AotC when it was still uncertain whether she would go by Padmé or Amidala, when it still seemed like she would go into hiding with Leia on Alderaan, when she was surrounded by handmaidens and drowning in heavy robes, when she presented as a cypher who disappeared behind face paint or into a crowd, as someone whose identity constantly transformed. I loved this idea of Padmé as more than unaffected beautiful surface, as someone whose very surface creates an experience of friction. So I’m still super partial to stories based on Naboo (I have a fic rec list somewhere that lists some of these) that sort of confront that parallelism between a Queen who wore a painted mask encoded with symbols of grief and the Knight entombed behind a mask … you get the picture.

Many stories deal with the role of projection in this relationship — Anakin and Padmé both project a great deal onto one another, and there’s plenty to unpack there — and stories about them getting therapy, stories about them projecting even harder, etc are interesting to me. I adore how this is handled in that one Legends comic where Vader is taken down by flamethrowers and has had the mask taken away and is practically hallucinating from the lack of oxygen and is holding himself together with nothing but spite. If the comic is at first concerned with Vader’s excessive violence, with his weirdly detached reenactment of his own lung and heart trauma in horrific torture sessions, the best bits play out in his own head, such as when a witch projects Padmé at him. Padmé transforms before him into an accusing corpse and he accepts this transformation as real, as though he’s pictured her as a rotting corpse so many times that it’s all that he wants, all he has longed for, awaited, desired — her judgment — and when he realizes he wasn’t really speaking to Padmé’s ghost, that he’s lost her even in death, the ensuing devastation is kind of mesmerizing. The wild swings between grief and rage and madness and hallucination — between murder and attempted suicide — make for a damning, visceral portrait. The new comic does a variation on this, but it’s less clear that Vader is having a battle with himself, as it could be that the Dark Side is simply projecting an evil Padmé at him to tell him to “let the past die” or somesuch — anyway. I love the stuff that stares into the abyss and lets it stare back.

Gimme crackfic.

Gimme all the tropes.

Subvert the tropes and set them on fire.

Fire in the story itself is always good too.

I am a simple soul: I’m here because they’re hot and sometimes naked.

Here is my OTP. Come between them and I will…ship and let ship, because I am a civilized fanperson, but CAN’T YOU SEE THEY’RE PERFECT TOGETHER??! (Or perfectly, fascinatingly, shippably dysfunctional, in certain cases.)

I have favoured and disfavoured ships. Convince me. Seduce me.

I’m not into ships for the romance / whatever, but for what particularly intense relationships can reveal about character. While there’s a part of me that insists Vader is a black swan, alternate ships (Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Aphra, etc) can be fascinating.

I had an OTP once, but then this amazing author, [insert author here], seduced me. Goddammit.

Fandom bicycle, baby! \o/

I have no shippy feelings at this time.

My feelings cannot be summed up by this meme. Have a seat while I put the kettle on.

[excuuuseme-princess]

Hey do sailor moon for that character thing now lol

eeek I’ve watched like 5 episodes of Sailor Moon but I’ll try lol I know a lot about the show in general, I just haven’t actually seen much of it XD (I really need to)

favorite thing about them

Honestly the entire concept of the show, tbh. Sailor Moon was revolutionary at the time as like, a foil to the shounen anime/manga that was all the rage. It was one of, if not the first shoujo/magical girl manga/anime, and it was awesome because it gave strong roll models for girls. All of the main female characters were fleshed out and felt real, but they still remained feminine aspects that shows you can still be a badass girl and still be feminine, which is just so cool. As for the character specifically, I honestly love her design; that hair is iconic and incredible.

least favorite thing about them

Usagi tends to be kind of emotional, which is totally okay, especially considering what I said above, but sometimes it gets kind of irritating.

favorite line

“Tsuki ni kawatte, oshiokiyo!” (In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!)

I love this line specifically because somebody pointed out to me that “oshiokiyo” is a really juvenile way of saying “I’ll punish you,” kind of like, the same way you would say “I’m going to give you a spanking” to your child when they do something they’re not supposed to, and I just find that adorable and hilarious.

brOTP

Her and Mars tbh omg I know they’re at each others’ throats a lot but I want them to just be absolute besties

Also Naru because reasons

OTP

Can’t break up Serenity and Endymion, so Usagi and Mamoru have gotta be OTP

nOTP

I guess Sailor Chibi Moon because like, literally her daughter???

random headcanon

Um? She...honestly I have no idea lol

unpopular opinion

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

song i associate with them

“Just a Girl” by No Doubt

favorite picture of them

it’s like the dreamworks logo but better because it’s sailor moon

[threadsketchier]

A Hard Question

HHGGGGNNNNNNNNNN AT LAST IT IS FINISHED

Once upon a time an author did a lot of handwaving and our OTP got a magic Force Bond and lived happily ever after.  (For a while. *sweary growling*)  Except Force bonds shouldn’t really be that convenient, and while we’re at it, there was too much talking and not enough Feels™.  I decided to do something about that.  After much anguished keyboard smashing, here it is - a re-write of That Scene from Vision of the Future, except with really shitty action and waaaaaaaaay more emotions.

You’re welcome.  (I hope?)

Read it at AO3

MUSIC: “Coward,” Hans Zimmer, Interstellar // “Rachel’s Song,” Vangelis, Blade Runner // “Where We’re Going,” Hans Zimmer, Interstellar // “Truth/Mal’s Speech,” David Newman, Serenity

“I’ve never had to find a hard question in my life.  They’ve always found me first.”

“Well, I’ll be Kesseled.  I was right.”

Mara’s arm shot out, smacking gently into Luke’s midriff to stop him from taking a step any further into the chamber.  Even as the details of the massive room trickled through her periphery, to be filed away for use or caution, her attention remained fixed on a single spot nestled inside a deep alcove.  Upon a figure floating in repose within a fully-outfitted cloning apparatus, a deceptively tranquil sight.  The heat in her blood rose, peeling her lips back from her teeth.

“Ten years.  Just like you said,” Luke murmured beside her, his voice laced with something between awe and grim resolve.  Mara’s eyes narrowed; she could already feel him grappling with the moral quandary he suddenly faced, could practically hear the well-oiled gears of mercy cranking to life.

“Thrawn liked to believe he thought of everything,” she said with a spiteful satisfaction.  “He obviously didn’t think of me.”

Luke’s head darted aside to spear her with a knowing look.  “Mara - ”

“Spare me the lecture about how a clone isn’t guilty of the crimes of its template,” she hissed.  “He was a conniving bastard who got off on manipulating, exploiting, and conquering the ‘unwashed masses.’  You really think he wouldn’t make sure his Version 2.0 inherited his superiority complex?”  Luke’s mouth was opening, trying to edge in a retort, but she barreled on.  “And don’t tell me it’s because he’s unarmed and helpless either - this entire facility is a weapon, from the turbolasers down to the database.  You know what’ll happen when he wakes up.  The New Republic’s already tearing itself apart; he’ll hardly have to lift a finger to finish unraveling it.”  Her fingers curled around a fistful of Luke’s jacket, nails digging into the flesh beneath the fabric.  “Don’t pull another Jomark on me, Farmboy.”

Don’t make me clean up the mess you’re too pure to handle.

His features taut with pained indignation, Luke jutted his chin sharply at the command console on the other side of the chamber.  “At least let Artoo plug into that computer to see what he can download on the Unknown Regions data first.”

“And risk our only chance at him?  You have any idea why it’s so empty in here?”  She gestured at the cluster of furniture lined up along the edge of the main floor, stored beneath plastic sheeting.  “You’d think Thrawn’s clone would have the same taste in interior décor.  All this space reeks of a trap.  Probably multiple traps, knowing him.  I’ll bet you a bushel of vincoff he’s got ysalamiri around here somewhere.”

“This isn’t our only option,” Luke countered angrily.  “If we can figure out a way to recover him from the cylinder, we can have him in our custody and take him back to the authorities.  Underneath all those contingencies, he’s only a man; I think between the three of us we can handle him,” he added tartly.

Mara snorted and shook her head.  “Doesn’t matter.  As long as he’s alive, he has power.  You don’t get that.  After his brains, his reputation is his next weapon.  Just the whiff of him has the whole galaxy running scared.  Good luck handling the fallout while you’re waiting on the trial.”  She unholstered her blaster and unhooked her lightsaber from her belt, and favored Luke with a tight, mirthless smile.  “Y’know, Faughn said we made a good team.  She was right.  When you get squeamish, I’ll be here to take out the trash.”

Luke’s face crumpled, closing down, his jaw grinding from the barb. Sullen, he turned back and whispered harshly to his droid, “Get to the console and plug in,” as she finally entered the chamber and broke into a brisk jog along the upper walkway toward the alcove.

Mara kept the blue face square in her sights as far as she could see it on her approach.  The face of the man who had driven Karrde to think she’d betrayed him.  The man who had mocked her as nothing more than a gullible pawn, who’d employed a mad Dark Jedi who sought to bend and break her to his will, who’d cemented in her soul that the glory of the Empire was truly gone.

No more.  She was in the business of exorcising old demons, after all.

Once she knew the alcove was below her, Mara hopped up onto the walkway railing and jumped straight down onto the main floor in front of it.  The transparisteel wall sealing the cloning apparatus looked blast-proof to anything handheld, but nothing a lightsaber couldn’t make short work of.  As far as she knew, Thrawn hadn’t figured out a way to make cortosis ore invisible.  The fluid might make things messy, but that was the least of her concerns.

She brought up her lightsaber hilt and pressed it against the wall, right over the clone’s sternum.  Just a flick of the switch and it would be over.  For the second time, Thrawn was about to get his heart carved out by someone he’d sorely underestimated -

“Who dares disturb the sleep of the Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo?!”

Even Mara couldn’t help a reflexive flinch at the deep voice that thundered from somewhere above at a nearly deafening volume.  On instinct she dropped into a crouch and spun to catch Luke’s eye; he looked equally startled and confused, also in defensive posture.  Beside him the astromech abruptly began beeping and trilling loudly, bouncing back and forth on its stubby legs in either shock or delight, she couldn’t tell.

With the brief jolt of fear turning to annoyance, Mara chanced a look upwards in time to watch the high domed ceiling somehow liquify from a solid surface into a rippling mass that coalesced into the shape of an imposing face.  Once again the booming voice asked from the mouth of the image, “Who dares disturb the sleep of the Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo?!”

Nice little special effect, she thought.  Pick that one up from Hologram Fun World?  “I do, you pompous rock worrt,” Mara muttered aloud.  The hairs on her nape were already rising again, preparing her for the threat promised by the obnoxious distraction, and at best she’d only have another second to aim and ignite her blade before it was too late -

“Mara!” Luke cried out, and she was biting down a curse as her finger slid across the switch but her wrist pulled the hilt away from the wall to defend herself from a blaster bolt sizzling toward her head.

On the raised walkway stood two hulking sentinel droids that had seemingly emerged out of nowhere, quickly rolling apart from each other on heavy treads to broaden their attack pattern.  Luke was dashing backwards from the command console while maintaining his own defense, approaching her, and had she not been so occupied Mara would have rolled her eyes at his obvious attempt to shield and protect her with his own body.  It was more than useless in this situation anyway, with the sentinels rapidly stationing themselves at the opposite ends of the chamber.  They were sitting fowls in their crosshairs.

Mara raked return fire across her sentinel’s head and joints, but the bolts merely glanced off; the droid’s armor was too reinforced.  “Shavit,” she snarled.  Of course Thrawn would do everything he could to Jedi-proof his backup plan.

Behind her there was a sudden yelp and the thud of a body hitting the floor near her feet, and for half a second a horrified disbelief gusted through her that Luke had managed to be hit, but then she heard him warning her with embarrassed frustration, “Cord snares!  On the floor.  Watch your step!”

Wonderful.  Thrawn was just the gift that kept on giving.

Over the din of blaster fire she heard Luke grunt his way upright, and then his back was bumping into her as he braced himself against her.  With nowhere else to go, Mara reluctantly let herself lean into him, the two of them pressed together, fighting frantically.  Perfectly helpless.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she ground out through her teeth like a mantra, half to herself.  “The oldest trick in the book and I still fell for it like some dumb farm kid.”

“Hey,” Luke shot back testily.

The Force lent them speed and accuracy and lengthened stamina, but it was no magic solution.  Their muscles were going to tire well before the droids ran out of ammo, and all it would take was one missed block.  In desperate fury Mara wished she could simply crush the damn thing into scrap, wrap her will around its head and torso and just squeeze the way Vader would callously dispose of whoever pissed in his helmet that day, but that would take more concentration and focus than she could spare just to stay alive through the relentless barrage.

Rage and defiance against the futility of it all narrowed her physical sight to the droid and its fiery hail alone.  As her vision tunneled, however, her awareness was spreading and deepening - not of her own body and mind, but of the one behind and beside her.

Within her.

Luke’s arm around her waist and his head touching hers, his fingers laced through hers, his spirit and strength overlapping with hers to bring everything into clarity -

Except it was like having the sun at her back.

Stars, he burned.  He burned.

It was easy to forget the devastation of such brilliance when it lay hidden behind a lean frame and a gentle tone.  The infinite bled into the edges of his being, blurring the line between him and the rest of the universe.  She spoke of power and carelessness, but standing, drifting here, confronted by the sheer magnitude of what was poured into this mortal shell…

This is what it felt like to carry the weight of planets and history and only remember to breathe in fleeting moments of bad puns and swigs of cheap beer on the deck of a decrepit freighter and bedtime stories with all the sound effects and voices added.  Trembling hands pulling the trigger, clutching the flight stick, his lightsaber, letting go of the gantry and falling falling falling, dragging his father’s body, cradling his sister’s newborn children, loving to fight and fighting to love -

- her.

In the empathy and admiration of watching her shatter and slowly put the pieces of herself back together, year after year.  In the way his soul would quiet even as she tried to rile him up, how his heart would be unburdened for those brief times whenever she dropped by, expecting nothing from him but his stupid face and his stupid smile and maybe some small talk about engine components and the market fluctuations of raw chocolate.

Here, in this strange place where time stretched into a meaningless expanse, Mara realized that for all of Luke’s openness, the one stubborn knot of emotional constipation in his life was her.  His care had not been the dilute compassion she thought he extended to everyone.  But he’d tried his damndest to smother it beneath all manner of excuses - he was the face of her nightmares, another scab of her old life, she was his apprentice, maybe, sometimes, it wasn’t right, everyone he ever loved he hurt, he killed, he couldn’t do that to her, she needed to be free, even from him -

And with the agonizing helplessness of fighting a dream gone wrong, her body engulfed in quicksand and her limbs turned to stone while her mind railed and screamed, Mara understood that whatever she saw of Luke, he must be seeing of her.  All of her.  Everything.  Every blossom of misguided pride and desire to please, every unquestioned thought, every savor of the kill, every spray and smear of blood, every ounce of doubt and self-loathing, every hunger pang of want and need and denial and delusion -

She’d tried so hard to hide it, and now it was out.  He loved her, he did love her, and how?  How could he love such a thing?

It was like a pressure wave, the light intensifying and suffusing her.  If a shout was tactile, maybe this is what it felt like.  Flashes of Vader, of a bald, pale, heavily scarred old man smiling sadly, of a twitching hand and still-raw, half-healed forearm throbbing red-hot with pain whipped across her sense, and Mara felt herself embraced almost violently.

No, the light cried, no no no no.  You are not a thing, and neither was he.  You are more than monsters.

I’m sorry, he wept.  I’m sorry that this is what it took.

She was staring at her own face, wet and ashen, the unkempt strands of her braid haloed around her head like solar prominences across the blackness of water.

Wait, what?  What?

A shrill screech broke through the haze of unreality - or rather, somehow Mara understood what the noise should have sounded like while it was instead stretched out into a low, dull roar like a recording on a profoundly slow playback.  In a sort of clinical daze she watched as R2-D2 crept into the edge of her sight, arc welder brandished and rolling across the upper walkway toward the sentinel attacking her.  Evidently its master’s protective streak and ludicrous hero complex were contagious.  She almost wondered just what the hell had taken the droid so damn long to get its metal rear in gear, but the bizarre distortion of time meant that less than a minute had to have elapsed.

Mara couldn’t believe the sentinel wasn’t aware of the approaching puny threat, but it gave no sign of acknowledging it yet.  A small knot of lightning began to discharge from R2’s welder, and then she saw the first hint of the sentinel’s reaction, the slightest repositioning of its arm and the blaster muzzle beginning to angle away from her.

This was her chance.  But to do...what, exactly?  She could throw her lightsaber and slice through the one blaster, but in the time it would take her to call it back to her hand, a killing shot from the other weapon would dispatch her.  And then the next would drill its way into Luke’s back or head.

FALL!

The word stabbed through her with such intensity she jerked and gasped, almost missing the next parry.  At her confusion an image of the cord-strewn floor flickered across her mind, then a view of the domed ceiling as if she was looking straight overhead.

Fall with me!  Trust me!

Mara realized it was Luke’s voice, though she wasn’t hearing it so much as feeling it, an instant comprehension as if his thoughts were her own, only colored in his distinctive heat.

There was no more time for questioning; whatever he was planning couldn’t be any worse than hers.  The sparks of R2’s welder touched the sentinel, and without even sparing a glance aside, the larger droid swung that arm with a callous ease to shove the little astromech clean off its bearings.

In the second and a half that blaster wasn’t firing, and Luke’s shoulder blades stopped carving circles in her back, Mara let her right leg buckle to send her toppling down with him, bracing herself to ignore the pain in her shoulder and hip as she hit the floor.  Immediately Luke flipped onto his back, and his lightsaber was whipping just above her face, momentarily blinding her as its blade caught the flurry of bolts from both sentinel droids.

Go for it! he was urging her, and gritting her teeth, Mara hurled her lightsaber toward her sentinel’s left blaster, bisecting the weapon into two halves of glowing slag.  Imagining her hilt as the end of a whip, she drew and spun it to the droid’s other side to destroy its second blaster.  The big lug had enough sentience to emit a rumbling growl of irritation at having been outwitted, but Mara knew she didn’t have time to relish that amusement; already it was digging into twin compartments in its upper legs for a fresh set of blasters.  Kriffing Thrawn.

The enigmatic sight of her corpse-like face in the water shot to the forefront of her mind again.  Water.

Her eyes darted to the water-stained wall near her droid opponent.

Practicing with the stalactites had given her enough skill now to briefly defeat the sentinel, but if she tried to pull a Vader, there was no guarantee she could summon both the brute strength and precision to ensure the droid wouldn’t remain functional.  As much as her teenage self would have bristled at the thought, in this regard she was no Dark Lord.  The urgency of Luke’s fatigue was beating at her; Mara was keenly aware of the strain on his arms and the simmering ache of burns from glancing near-misses as if his body were her own.  Better to stick to what she knew.

With a high-pitched snarl of effort Mara sent her lightsaber flying toward the wall and drove its tip straight into the rock, carving out a small circle.  Almost instantly an explosive jet of water began to spray from the cut, much quicker than she’d expected, and as it obscured the saber she nearly lost her mental grip on the hilt, fighting against both the dense stone and the incredible pressure.  But she held on out of sheer desperation; she couldn’t afford to fail now -

And then the stone plug was shooting across the chamber with all the destructive speed of a missile.  The armored lunk crumpled and flew like garbage ejected from a freighter.

Any sense of victory was short-lived, because over the sound of shearing metal came a bone-rattling thunder as the wall gave way, the jet enlarged to a waterfall, and the Lake of Small Fish decided to invite itself to the party.

Oh bloody h-

Still hyper-focused on the battle, Mara wasn’t at all prepared for the shockingly cold wave that slammed into her and sent her hurtling across the floor.  Surprise and disorientation ripped a shout from her throat before instinct reminded her to keep her mouth shut and hold her breath, as the water mercilessly tossed and rolled her facedown into blinding white foam.  She flailed wildly, clawing for the trip cords to give her something to anchor herself with, but the turbulence pushed her away, until she managed to bob back upwards to the surface just in time to see herself about to collide with one of the walkways.

Mara thrust her arms outwards to keep her face from bashing into the wall, scrabbled madly for anything to grip, but the swirling water kept drawing her aside.  Suddenly a viselike pressure surrounded her torso, almost tight enough to crush the breath from her lungs, and she felt herself rise up out of the water with just enough height that she could reach the lower rung of the equipment balcony railing nearby.

Compelled by panic and the chance of safety, without thinking, Mara lunged for the railing and began to haul herself up before she cast a glance back over the water filling the chamber.

She couldn’t see Luke anywhere.

Alarm froze her in place.  What if he’d been entangled in the cords and was drowning?  Or finally taken a hit while she’d been engrossed in her rock torpedo ploy and the subsequent deluge?  He had to be down there somewhere and she couldn’t see him, where was he?  She realized he must have lifted her with the Force moments before, so he had to be alive, she hadn’t felt the pain of a mortal wound or...or…

An instant of unspeakable horror flooded her chest at the notion of what it would feel like if he was gone.  Truly gone.  Like when Palpatine had left her with that gaping, ragged, pitch-black hole -

Then Luke’s head broke through the churning water, coughing and spluttering, followed by a small metallic periscope beside him.  Slowly R2’s blue and silver dome began to emerge, and Luke’s eyes caught hers, pleading.  Help me, he was asking.

Not him, though, but the droid he was struggling to hoist out of the water and over to the balcony.

Mara fumed silently.  Of course.  Of course the idiot wants to save his rustbucket first.

Her mind felt raw, scraped and bruised by the effort of fighting harder for her life than she’d ever managed and their unprecedented union through the Force.  Even a simple thing like levitating an astromech seemed beyond whatever mental strength she had left.  But Mara pushed herself, jaw grinding and body rigid, and R2 floated unsteadily toward her and over the railing.

She didn’t bother to give it a soft landing.  The droid squealed, no doubt in offense, and she ignored it; that wasn’t any worse than the backhand the sentinel had given it.

The surging of the water was starting to ebb somewhat as the level rose to meet its entry point, and Luke was able to swim to the balcony.  Mara finished climbing over the railing, and as soon as he was within reach she bent down to seize him by an arm and the scruff of his jacket and pulled upwards with all her might.  His hands closed around the rails and he dragged himself the rest of the way, rolling over the edge to collapse facedown in a boneless heap beside her.

Settling on her backside, Mara paused to consider their pathetic lot, the two of them utterly drenched and shivering, Luke coughing miserably, and couldn’t help a disgusted sigh at herself.  Brilliant, she thought.  Nothing like a plan that almost gets us both killed.

Slowly Luke turned onto his back and lay still for a minute, chest heaving.  Mara nudged his ankle with the toe of her boot.  “You okay?” she asked.

She was a little startled to find herself clearly aware of him thinking, I’m just enjoying the air, while he didn’t say a word, neither answering nor even looking at her for several more moments.  His presence was an absolute mess of emotions sprawled across his exhaustion and he wasn’t even trying to shield any of it.  “No,” he finally croaked aloud.  “Not really.  But…”  With a groan and a wince he sat up, swaying a bit.  Mara leaned forward to steady him, but he grasped the rail, and she found herself oddly hesitant to touch him now.

Luke was staring at her, his eyes unfocused yet piercing, his gaze rapt like a man drunk on a vision of the sublime.  And as the weight of his regard bore down on her features, the weight of his spirit felt like molten ore poured into her veins, solidifying into something unbreakable.

Regret flickered across his face, and Mara felt him withdrawing, trying to extricate himself from this intimacy for her sake.  But even with the cacophony of his pain and wonder growing quieter, an essence of him remained behind, imprinted in the depths of her mind, and somewhere deeper yet.  Her heart, she supposed, as romantic twaddle might espouse.

They’d undergone some fundamental change in the midst of that fighting bond, a link so strongly forged it was now seared like a brand upon their very souls.  Or, in less poetic terms, perhaps their mental patterns had been irrevocably altered to overlap one another, unable to disengage even after the battle was over.

Palpatine had insinuated himself on her, worming his way into her deepest affections, and she had welcomed him.  Luke hadn’t sought this of her, had only tried to work with her to save their lives, and now he was in her master’s place.

Mara could no longer summon the terror and revulsion she’d felt earlier.  There was nowhere left to run, nothing to take back.  She’d already been more exposed to him than if she was crouching naked in his sight.  Moreover, he’d likewise suffered under her own scrutiny.

A memory of his easy smile came to her from a decade before, when he’d casually confided some frivolous nonsense about the protocol droid aboard the Millennium Falcon, as if she’d been an old and dear friend of his, not a hostile agent bent on executing him.

Trust me.

Trust him, the way he’d always trusted her.

At last Luke tore his eyes away from her and looked out over the water with dread.  She could feel the fear rising in him, clamoring against his attempts to stay calm and evaluate the situation properly.  Mara knew it wasn’t for his own safety or even for the difficulty of their predicament.

With the New Republic ready to tear itself apart, you rushed off to save me.  Ignoring your self-delegated responsibilities in order to save that one woman and her one life.

“So that’s why you came,” Mara said.  His head turned back toward her.  “You saw me...dead.  In this.”

Her words drove a blade between his ribs and twisted.  Luke’s eyes dropped away to the small space separating them, despair warring with denial.  “Always in motion is the future,” he murmured, barely above the rush of the lake.

Now that stoked her ire.  After all this, he was still going to reduce everything to his blasted Force.  “Don’t start with your Jedi sh -”

Abruptly Luke sprang forward and took her by the hands, and with a painfully earnest look on his face he blurted out, “Mara, will you marry me?”

The question hit her like a punch to the throat, thoroughly stunning and leaving her speechless for a pair of heartbeats.  When she managed to scrape together a reaction, she shook her hands free of his grasp and pushed his arms away from her as if she’d been burnt, drawing a mental flinch from him.

Whatever she’d been expecting him to say next - let alone at any point in time ever - it wasn’t that.

“We’ve never even fucked, Skywalker,” Mara shouted, “and you’re asking me this now?”

Chagrin rippled through him, shifting to manic humor and a fleeting glimmer of lust that practically spelled out, I suppose it’s a little late for that now, huh?

Mara almost laughed aloud at his self-deprecating honesty, seized by the contagious urge to just rip his sodden and tattered fatigues off and get it over with right then and there.  Why not, when it might supposedly be her last moments alive.  Maybe their last moments alive.  But old bitterness arose to quash the ridiculous notion, whispering too little, too late.

“Funny that you’d fuck a student’s corpse before me,” she remarked, her voice surprisingly more sad than caustic to her ears.

If the whole fortress crumbled and came down on Luke’s head to bury him, it wouldn’t be enough to escape the accusation.  His cheeks flamed and his presence withered, trying to pack itself down as small and dense as a neutron star, leaving the mental space between them dim and cold.

Mara shut her eyes and sighed, turning the hurt and anger and disappointment over in her thoughts like the well-worn hilt of a dagger.  At this point her spite was as petty as his affections were too long in coming.

There wasn’t enough time.  There never was.

The water was lapping just a few handspans below the edge of the balcony.  It likely wouldn’t rise all the way up to the high domed ceiling, but their escape routes were completely cut off, the current not fast enough to carry them out such a long distance before they drowned.

With one hastily calculated move, she’d sentenced not only herself to death, but Luke as well.

I’m finally getting the job done fifteen years late, Mara thought bleakly.

But if he’d envisioned her body in the aftermath, it meant he would survive.  She just didn’t know how.

Vacant blue eyes glared back at her, smoldering with obtuse hatred before glazing over with the shock of death.  She’d given in to the command to stop the clone, to help save them all in the bowels of Mount Tantiss.  Maybe this was her final purpose - not to use the shackles of her past against her master and his remnants, but to give her own life to preserve the very one he’d sought to destroy.

Mara stared indignantly into the water where the clone alcove lay submerged but safely ensconced behind its thick transparisteel.  It irked her to no end that they were in peril but he’d be just fine, at least until he was scheduled to wake up and make his debut.

An idea began to coalesce in the part of her mind that wasn’t scattered and intruded upon.  Luke’s head jerked up immediately.

“That cloning apparatus,” she started.  “That’s got a pretty big generator, wouldn’t you say?”

“Probably,” Luke agreed, eyeing her warily.

“It’s a Braxxon-Fipps 590 fusion generator.  And we’ve got plenty of water here, and some very fragile tunnels of cortosis ore.  All we need is a way to get it wet.”

His eyes saucered.  “Mara, that’s a hell of a lot of- ”

“Exactly.  The only way we can get out of here now is to generate enough of a boom to possibly collapse and enlarge those passageways to speed up the drainage.  Unless you’d rather stay put and fuck my brains out until we run out of air.”

She was already in motion, holding the railing and preparing to swing a leg over it, but Luke grabbed her shoulder.  “Don’t.  I’ll go.”

“You know what a Paparak cross-cut is?” she retorted.

When he blinked and frowned dumbly she continued, “It’s a technique that puts delayed stress on a wall to give you enough time to get clear.  So no need to be the martyr today, and if I’m getting myself killed, it’s definitely not this way.”

Sighing, Luke relented and knelt by the railing to wait for her.  Once she stood balanced on the outer edge of the balcony Mara held out a hand.  “What I am going to need is to borrow your lightsaber.”

A lopsided smile split his face.  He turned around toward R2, and with a bright chirp the droid opened a compartment and out popped her lightsaber.  Mara stared flatly at both of them.

“...That’s why you were under there so long?”

Luke’s grin was positively bashful and yet a tad smug.  She scowled and reached over to snatch the weapon, and he caught her wrist, his hand sliding down to gently squeeze her fingers closed around the hilt.  Be careful.

Her lips stretched in a taut line, impatient and resigned, not quite a smile but an acknowledgement nonetheless.  Always, Farmboy.

The water was calmer and clearer now, easier to navigate, and the chamber’s stark lighting illuminated her way.  Luke’s anxiety hovered over her, restrained but irrepressible; he had faith in her expertise, but the fear of the unknown couldn’t be dispelled.  Mara tuned it out without completely pushing him away.

Soon she found herself floating before the clone again.  The great irony was that, had she been able to dispatch him earlier, the lakewater would have already flooded through the small breach of her blade and the unexpected blast might have killed both her and Luke.  She could just imagine the Jedi lecture about patience that would’ve inspired, if they’d managed to live through it.

Never mind the fact that this was her first time executing a Paparak on transparisteel.  But Luke didn’t need to know that either.

By the last cuts her lungs were starting to ache, so she could not afford any second-guessing.  Willing herself to be satisfied with her work, Mara shut down the lightsaber and swam for the surface.  The moment her head emerged and she was gasping a fresh breath, she felt the pressure around her midsection again - gentler and more evenly distributed this time - and found herself lifted above the water and quickly floating back toward the balcony.  Mara shook her head irritably at Luke’s overprotective gesture, especially considering that he was waiting for her with open arms ready to catch her.

As soon as she’d cleared the railing he was stepping around her and stretched his body over hers as a cover, and she could feel him concentrating on forming a Force shield against the impending explosion.  At the same time his hand was fumbling around her waist, prompting Mara to ask, “You change your mind about getting my pants off now?”

Luke puffed out something between a grunt and a chuckle, and then she heard the click of a coupling link onto her belt.  Glancing aside, Mara noticed the wobbling gleam of a safety line tethering her to R2, who had likewise secured itself to the balcony railing.  “How long?” he asked in return, breath warm on her neck.

“Honestly, I don’t know.  Could be a few more seconds to a couple minutes.”  Shivering harder now with the second exposure to the water, damp air, and cold floor beneath her, she had to begrudgingly admit appreciating Luke draping himself on top of her, despite the fact that he was equally wet.

They lay in awkward silence for several moments, until Mara pointed out, “He’s going to die to get us out of here.  I don’t hear you protesting that anymore.”

She twisted her head around to be able to see Luke’s expression, but she could already sense his grave resignation, his coming to terms with the blood he’d already spilled throughout his life, all the atoms of once-living beings scattered across the void of space from his exploits.

“I wouldn’t have kept him alive if it meant losing you,” he replied, fierce in his honesty despite the softness of his voice.

A loud crack and the sudden surging of water were followed by a blinding flash of light, and Luke hunched down over her, one arm hugging her tightly.  The noise was somewhat muffled by the water, but Mara still felt her ears pop from the pressure of the blast, electric pain shooting through her jaw.  Despite Luke’s Force shield, the first massive wave that crashed down over the balcony sloshed around and easily lifted them with violent impunity, slamming them against the stone wall and threatening to suck them back out into the chamber.  Several more times it struck and retreated, tossing them about like flotsam;  between the water, the safety line, and Luke’s hold on her, it seemed as though she was going to be ripped in half.

When everything stilled enough to let them recover, Mara spluttered and sagged beneath Luke’s weight, forcing water out of her mouth and nose.  He was coughing again, almost choking on a groan of pain or exhaustion, his chest a harsh bellows against her back.

“You all right?” she managed, her voice sounding canned to her ears.

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely.  His arms trembled as he rolled off of her and released the safety line, and as Mara pushed herself up onto her knees she didn’t think she felt much better herself.  But one look at the chamber confirmed that the effort had been worthwhile.

Only a single, flickering glowpanel had survived the explosion, but the dim light was just enough to let her see the water beginning to drain from the room back out into the tunnel.

“Guess it’s time to jump in?” she asked.  “Or should we just wait for it to clear out?”

“No.”  Luke’s reply came with the abruptness of a Force hunch.  “I don’t know why, but we shouldn’t.  We need to go now.  Even though it’s gonna be a long, cold, bumpy ride, and I’m not sure how much air we’ll have along the way.”

Mara recalled the last time he’d had an air issue with his escape route.  “Sounds like this is a job for cold-shirting.  Your kind of cold-shirting, anyway.”

He regarded her with an irreverent smile.  “You said that was crazy.”

“It’s not much crazier than this, I’ll admit.”  Uncertainty began to creep over the edge of her bravado.  It was a straightforward plan - let the current ferry them out.  And yet, some unknown threat remained along the way, something that could result in what Luke had seen.

She’d already slipped on a pile of leaves and knocked herself out.  Perhaps her end would be just as ignominious.  At least I’ll still have the satisfaction of having brought it on myself, she thought sardonically.

“We can’t both be completely out, though,” she countered.

“No, I’ll stay in a half-trance.  Just enough to reduce my oxygen demand but keep some awareness.  I won’t tether us this time; if one of us gets stuck somewhere, we all get stuck.”  He licked his lips nervously, bracing himself against the same fear of what lay ahead in their last ordeal to escape the fortress again.  “Take some deep breaths and think about what code phrase you want me to use to wake you up.”

A code phrase.  Right.  Mara nodded, her mind withdrawing to another time and distant place she had never been but could clearly picture, shrouded in pensive night, suffused with the scents of evergreen and engine exhaust from Imperial walkers.  Her hands were cuffed but her spirit could never be bound.  Across from her stood Vader, seemingly lost in thought as he studied his son’s new lightsaber held reverently in his grasp.  She had everything and nothing left to lose.

In the present, Luke gazed back at her with understanding, tenderness and apprehension mingling in his features.  He raised a hand to her face, thumb caressing her cheekbone and fingers brushing aside wet strands of her hair, and she felt his gentle influence begin to coax her toward sleep.

Seized by a sudden impulse, Mara resisted the trance’s onset and reached out to take hold of his jaw to bring his mouth to hers, kissing him roughly with a hunger that would never be sated.  If this was the end, then the sight of his face and the taste of his lips would be the last thing she could take with her into the darkness.

His breath was hers, and then the world faded away.

“Come with me.”

Consciousness rushed back into her, and Mara gasped reflexively, blinking away the water clinging to her eyelids.  Strong arms were holding her, and in the light of a glowlamp she could make out the resolving blur of Luke’s face looking down at her as if she was the birth of a new creation in his very sight.  Releasing his breath in a sigh of joy and relief, he smiled and gathered her up tightly, his laughter sounding almost like crying.  In the Force he shone like a pulsar, blazing out gratitude and the near-hysteria of having surmounted loss, and she could feel him shaking against her.  Slowly Mara wrapped her own arms around him and reached up to weave her fingers into his wet hair, stroking her nails softly over his scalp.

Yeah, Farmboy, I’m here.  I’m here.  You can’t get rid of me that easily.

Luke pulled away just far enough to rest his forehead against hers, his lips parted and his eyes full of yearning, and for a moment Mara thought he might kiss her in return.  But he held himself back, simply breathing in time with her, and she realized that he was waiting.  Waiting for her answer, and perhaps willing to wait for a lifetime, regardless of her decision.  Despite the illusion of freedom, there was something inexorable about his love that had nothing to do with mental or spiritual bonds.

They had time after all - time for her to wonder if there was something fundamentally wrong with her, time to investigate whether this bond could be undone, time to contemplate if was worth keeping, time to ponder a life with him that could consist of more than mere passing-bys and regret.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, and this time she meant it.

[lonkboi]

X-Men: First Class trailer

[mizzingyou]

heads up: it’s 11 pm and i’m tired but i’m listening to my narumayo playlist and i’m being attacked by feels right now and honestly i’m a wreck but this otp heals me i don’t know where this post is going tbh so if i can compare this post to me it’s that both of us are wreckt

do you ever think of your otp and you know

want to cry

not just cry of crippling angst although i won’t disagree that that’s what usually happens

but just cry at how amazing it is

and it doesn’t matter if it’s not canon (yet) or if it’s some weird ship that people look down upon, because it’s something you thoroughly enjoy and it brings you so much emotions; sad and happy ones alike.

or maybe it is canon and a lot of people love it too and you can sprint around the internet, gobbling up the entire fanfic.net or wattpad or deviantart archive of fanart and fanfics and just feeling

whether or not people like your otp, you won’t let them stop you from shipping it

and that’s the thing

look for context, i love science and in addition psychology; and i’ve always wondered, why do we love other people’s love? why don’t we participate in our own love? why can’t we celebrate our relationships instead of celebrating other people relationships?

i don’t know. i don’t know what to honestly say with that question. i just know that it gives us dopamine and serotonin and oxytocin and all those hormones that make us happy

at the same time it releases those hormones that make us feel sad and make us want to cry (honestly i don’t know what they are and right now i’m too lazy to google it)

and you know what i’m just gonna stop beating around the bush and go into the reason why i even made this post: narumayo, my OTP

i’m just gonna straight up say that narumayo gave me feelings that i have not felt for the longest of times now. my last favorite OTP was reynico of Heroes of Olympus and that was like 2 years ago

and what i noticed is that i feel a lot less raging emotions with this ship then i do usually with my older OTPs. i’ve cried way too much over the old ones, and what i noticed about narumayo is that i very rarely cry because of them (well, besides the fanfics)

i think that’s a good thing because what emotion it did give me was serenity

it gave me a sense of...peace

i don’t know. it’s just that, whenever i think of Phoenix and Maya being together, i feel like i’m home. i feel like it was meant to be.

whenever i see them laughing and happy in my head or in fanart, i think “I want to have a relationship like that” and you can argue that that’s what it is for all my ships

but whenever i think about narumayo, i feel like that this is what i really want.

phoenix and maya complete each other; whether you ship them or not, you have to remember, they’re literally part of a whole, and i can give you so much evidence right now but honestly it’s already 12 am and i just want to drown myself in more fanart 

ugh okay i’m so tired and i just want to say

narumayo is great

phoenix and maya being together, making each other stronger, making each other happy

it just makes my day

knowing that these two are canonically best friends, and basically partners, i am a firm believer that eventually it’ll become love

honestly if they make aa7 please like give us more narumayo

i actually had this dream once where we’re handed a new WAA member for aa7 (or 8, i’m not sure) and then we get a dialogue where Nick and Maya are talking to the new member and in between have those bickering couple moments and then --

“Oh come on, being stuck with me isn’t that bad! Isn’t that Wright, Maya?”

“If my last name wasn’t Wright right now, Nick, I would be hitting you upside the head.”

And THEN I SCREAMED SO HARD I WOKE UP

WHY DID I SCREAM? I DON’T KNOW

HONESTLY I WISH I DIDN’T CAUSE I WANTED TO SEE WHAT WAS AFTER THAT

okay that’s the end of my late night (or early morning) ramblings see ya

[chromsai]

First At Last

A late birthday gift for my dear friend and wonderful kouhai @jirehthedisciple (sorry for the delay, Jireh! I hope you like! :3c)

Fandom: Arc V Words: ~2,850 Pairings: Fruitshipping!! (YuyaxYuzu OTP!!!) Genre: Yep so this is romantic c: Notes: Set a few years post-canon. I didn’t include any other pairings because this is specifically a moment for the fruits, sorry everyone else (kinda).

“So… you’re really leaving then?” Yuzu tried her best to hide the heartache through her usual performer’s facade, but when she turned to face Yuya, she knew instantly that her voice had given her away like some unreliable narrator.

As if following in cue with her, his face seemed to mimic hers almost exactly, and when he finally willed a response, she knew she’d soured his performer’s spirit as well. “Yeah… I mean… I want to stay here and cheer you on during your tournament too, but-”

“But nothing,” Yuzu interrupted desperately, a bit of sweat slithering down her neck. Out of habit, she reached out to Yuya’s hands; cupped in hers, she was relieved when he didn’t immediately attempt to wriggle them loose and found the warmth they created together all the more reassuring. “Don’t worry about me and make sure you do your best out there! Make us proud!” She dispensed a wink for him as she finished giving him a dose of his own style of moral support.

The tone of his voice reflected the instant relief displayed in his eyes. “My first big tour in the Pro Leagues… I’m gonna go all out! Thanks, Yuzu!” His confident grin slacked just slightly before perking back up again as he continued. “You do your best too!”

“Of course,” she replied, reluctantly letting go of his hands. “And, Yuya…” She lowered her voice to a softer tone, matching the gaze she now met his eyes with.

Yuya blinked away his previous excitement at her hesitation. “Huh?”

“Be careful, okay?”

Yuya didn’t realize he’d winced at her words so harshly. All he noticed when he came back into focus was that Yuzu’s face had suddenly furrowed itself out of worry.

“Yuya? What’s wrong, Yuya? Are you feeling okay?”

The concern slowly rising in her voice motivated a quick, though unrefined reply to help reassure her. “Eh? Uh, yeah, I am. Thanks…” He paused to gather his thoughts back to his current reality where he stood mere moments away from boarding a plane headed out of Maiami- out of his home- out to yet another unknown world. At least this time he wouldn’t have to cross a single dimension to get there, he prayed.

Yuya took a long, deep breath at the memory as he faced Yuzu again and sighed. “You too, Yuzu.” He felt his hand begin to stretch out slowly before him without his permission- its destination: Yuzu’s face- but caught himself in the act and retracted it smoothly, letting a short chuckle out to mask his inner embarrassment. “...Well then… see you…” His words dragged just as reluctantly as his feet did.

Yuzu narrowed her eyes gently and procured a docile smile, hoping the gesture would make him feel as good as she hoped it would for herself as well. Flattering his previous sigh with one of her own, she found herself sending him off finally. “Safe trip, Yuya.”

Or so it seemed until he stopped just a few paces in front of the boarding gate. She noted Yuya’s sunken head and hurried over to his side. “Yuya? Did you forget something?”

He kept his head low, replying “No, I…” only to disregard his own half-baked excuse not soon after.

Yuzu yearned for a legitimate excuse as well, but managed to discipline herself just enough to forego it, instead pushing herself for both her own sake and Yuya’s. “You should hurry then, Yuya. You don’t want to miss your flight,” she insisted sternly, doing her best to convince both of them that that was true.

Yuya wasn’t buying it, it seemed. “...”

Yuzu couldn’t buy into her own excuse any longer either. “We’re being separated again…”

“Ergh…” The last thing Yuya expected was how easily Yuzu read into him and how fast the sting of her words reached his heart. His flinch jerked his head upwards so Yuzu could see the pain growing steadily in his face.

Only part of her felt guilty for not being persistent enough with her lie but the rest of her actually felt relieved that she wasn’t alone in her bittersweet hell anymore. If anything, something deep within her was glad that Yuya still resisted leaving her as well, though her selfishness only served to further reinforce her guilt.

“So you’ve been thinking about it too, huh?”

“Of course! How could I not?!” Yuya’s retort was almost alarming in its risen amplitude. Then again, how else did she expect he’d react to such triggering words? She didn’t blame him for responding in practically the same way she would. “I get that the situation’s way different this time around, but I still can’t help avoid thinking about it. At least this time I know I don’t have to worry, but either way…” His head once again sunk along with his voice.

“Yuya…” For a moment, she felt the regret try to drag her down in the same fashion Yuya appeared in now, but again she reminded herself that since he was on the same page as her, she could at least write the situation off in a positive direction for them both. “You’re right. There’s nothing to be afraid of this time. We’re being separated again, but only for a bit, okay? It’s for the good for both of us…”

Her selfishness possessed her once more and she casually reached out for the small clump of crimson hair grazing his cheek. His face jumped up in her direction in surprise as she met his stunned expression with a comforting smile.

“Heehee, just don’t grow out your hair too much while you’re away, okay? She played with the long, red clump of hair so familiar to her for a bit longer than he anticipated and felt disappointed the moment she let go. “It’s already gotten kinda long. When you get back, you could use a cut.”

His hand hovered for a bit where Yuzu had just caressed before ruffling the same clump of hair in bewilderment. His face relaxed slightly as he stared back into her sweet eyes. “You know, Yuzu, there is something that I’m afraid of this time…”

It seemed as though they were taking turns in surprise and Yuzu’s face found itself back to the drawing board. “Huh? What is it? Tell me.”

“I’m scared that… I’m afraid of…” Yuya’s eyes strained against the words in his head he was obviously contemplating on presenting. “I’m afraid of leaving you… getting separated from you again… without telling you…”

Yuya’s words continued catching her off guard. “... What,” was all the reply to them that she could muster.

His look reflected an air of severity as he took a deep breath and exhaled, “Yuzu… I wanted to tell you after I got back, but this feeling of dread is getting to me…”

“Yuya… what do you mean?” Yuzu somehow felt whatever could be on his mind she wouldn’t be prepared for.

“Well, it’s something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time now but,” the words couldn’t come to his mouth any more difficulty, but still he urged himself on. “More than just trying to dine the exact words to say it, getting past my own denial of it has been hard enough.”

Yuzu already felt as if she was dying slowly from anticipation but that word from his mouth only served to take away some of the scarce breath she had left in her. “D-Denial?! Yuya-”

Rudely, he cut her gasp for air short as he continued his reckless ambush. “But I’m sick of it, Yuzu. I can’t deny these feelings any longer. I won’t. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking this entire time, but the truth is…” With the sweetest words at the tip of his tongue, Yuya couldn’t help but begin to glow a bit red from their taste as Yuzu looked on at him completely dumbstruck.

“The truth is…?”

“The truth is, Yuzu, I…”

Take a step forward with courage.

“I love you.”

He didn’t flinch this time. Instead he focused only on her eyes and her cheeks, widened and flushed, same as his own.

“Y-Yuya…!”

The next thing he knew he felt possessed again. Except for this sort of possession was unlike what he was used to; it was serene and soothing the longer he spoke to her of the things in his heart even he hadn’t ever dreamed of hearing out loud- coming from his mouth, no less. Either way, this… feeling was something he desperately wanted to release to her custody specifically.

“I think… I don’t even know for how long I’ve been like this… but I can never stop thinking about you, Yuzu. Never.”

“...” And likewise her silence pleaded to him to never stop whatever he was doing right now, and he obliged.

“I know we’ve been friends forever and… I love you for that. You’ve always been there for me… I guess that just flew over my head somehow.” His flushed cheeks only felt warmer with every word but his resolve was great enough now that he didn’t mind getting burned. Heck, he might set himself aflame for Yuzu’s sake and he’d feel relieved. Fearless of the raging flames burning at his heart, he pressed onward. “Even after everything that happened that time when we got separated,... I couldn’t stand being away from you. And I feel like it’s happening again. I remember that time and how much I just wanted to see you… Yuzu… I never want to let you go again.”

The tears welling up in her eyes couldn’t set out the flames he’d ignited in them both now, but for some reason they still felt refreshing. “Yuya… I know…”

Her response came to him like a stray spark of fire and he took himself aback by reflex. “Huh? You.. you do?”

She began to wipe away the tears in exchange for a giggle fleeing her mouth. “Yes, Yuya! I know… I know how you feel… I always know how you feel…”

Suddenly he felt a burst of embarrassment pass over his entire being, and he simply replied, “Oh… Yuzu… I’m sorry for being so dense this entire time-”

She took her turn to retort via rude but endearing interruption. “Idiot! Don’t apologize for that! The truth is… I’ve been holding back my feelings as well…” And now she joined him in stoking the flames.

“Y-Yuzu?!”

She began pouring in her portion of combusting breaths to fuel the flames. “You may be dense, but I can be stubborn… and selfish. Truth be told, I’ve always wanted to hear you say those kinds of words… about me…”

The last of his pent up, heart-wrenching fumes released themselves out of Yuya quite smoothly. “I don’t have anyone else I’d rather say them to, Yuzu. Heh…”

His chuckle felt loudly out of place among their careless whispers and Yuzu blinked back at it in hesitant defiance. “What are you laughing about?” She almost felt annoyed at the daring interruption at that precise moment.

Of course, Yuya found a way to shrug off his manners so nonchalantly, as usual. “No, it’s nothing.” At the very least he was nice enough to offer a caring smile to compensate.

Though it was hard for her to deny that the gesture was basically irresistible, especially after the charming words he’d just said, his own karma began to call him out.

“Boarding call for Flight 518 - Passengers please present your passes at Gate A-5.”

They both looked back at each other with a growing scowl on their faces until Yuya shook the feeling off and spoke before it spoiled the moment.

“Listen, Yuzu, can I ask you something?”

The confidence back in his eyes inspired her own back into hers. “Yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m heading out there for a while. I’m going to become a better Entertainment Duelist for you and for me and for all of us, but it’ll take some time. But if you’re willing to wait for me, then, when I get back,” his cheeks began to flush again. “Would you… would you like to…” The heat in his cheeks began to dizzy him this time and his eyes traveled around frantically in his bashfulness.

The poor boy seemed lost now but thankfully Yuzu took pity in his excitement. She took his face in her hands and guided his eyes to peer back into hers. “Idiot,” she said, carefully catching his attention once again. “After what we’ve been through? We’re practically married already.”

Ironically, her words broke him out of his fantasy once again, this time with a bit more eagerness and initiative, though he fought against his instincts to embarrass himself again. “H-Hey now… I mean, I’d like that too someday, but… can we slow down just a bit?”

His helplessness contributed to her growing smile’s vigor and she decided she’d miss him enough now that one last tease might not hurt as much in comparison. “Only if you really, really, really want to…”

Her approach cleared his mind completely yet somehow he still found words to speak, though hell if he knew where they were coming from anymore. “I think I have all the time in the world for you, so-”

“Second boarding call for Flight 518 - Passengers please present your passes at Gate A-5 shortly.”

Of course, any sense of urgency he had within him had gone completely oblivious of his reality at the moment.

Yuzu was under the exact same trance. Rather than obliging the boarding call that she knew Yuya had to adhere to eventually, she instead relaxed her arms on Yuya’s shoulders, bringing his face closer to hers delicately. Likewise, she let her eyelids rest a bit too, stopping just short of shutting them entirely, giving her pupils just enough room to lay their gaze comfortably on Yuya’s lips.

“Are you sure about that?”

The only thing Yuya was sure about anymore at that point was…

“Yuzu…”

That he had never felt something so… calming, yet at the same time so pleasantly dizzying and blissfully enticing as the sensation of Yuzu’s soft lips gracefully caressing his own.

The light, clumsy touch began to eat at Yuzu’s strength and she could feel her knees ready to give in under the gentle pressure, but Yuya wasn’t willing to forfeit this newfound indulgence so easily. In keeping to his stubborn oathe of never letting go of her, his hand found its place at the back of Yuzu’s head, his fingers loosely tangling themselves among Yuzu’s pink locks while his other hand guided itself against Yuzu’s back, arm and all, as it pushed her form closer into Yuya’s.

Their release came rather abruptly due to the lack of experience that they both recognized in each other’s tender, satisfied smiles held apart only by their foreheads.

They held their gaze at one another for just a few seconds longer before sighing it away, closing their eyes to help capture the memory of their faces under each other’s spell.

“Our first…,” Yuzu muttered.

“Yeah, ...our first…,” Yuya repeated warmly.

“First.” She smirked at the implication of the word, then was disappointed when she took a step back and her surroundings came back into focus.

“Hmph. If you really had more time for me, we could practice a bit more…”

“Final boarding call for Flight 518 -  Passengers must present their passes at Gate A-5 immediately.”

The call for his departure and her playful agitation tugged mercilessly at his heart, but he still managed to reply with a half-jest of his own. “You know, I wanted to leave without regrets but now you’re making me feel a bit regretful…”

He’d never been very skilled at the art of guilt tripping her so Yuzu was surprised at the sudden remorse she felt, but she knew they had no time left to deal with it. “Oops, too bad!” She wasted not a second more to offer him one last smile. “Safe trip, Yuya! ...I love you.”

Her words contradicted her pushing him away from her, though it achieved her goal of setting him off.

“I love you more… Thank you so much, Yuzu…” He wouldn’t turn away from her until the last of his words left his lips for certain this time.

“Get out of here already! Hey,” Yuya stopped in his tracks one last time to catch Yuzu in the middle of one final scold. “If you don’t call or message me everyday, I’m breaking up with yo-”

Yuzu didn’t notice exactly how Yuya closed the distance between them so swiftly but she was glad she did anyway as she lingered on the feeling of the sudden smooch he so rudely interrupted her with before running off with a wave and an improper farewell.

“Tell everyone I said ‘bye’ and ‘I’ll miss them’!”

Of course, she knew she’d had to scold him for that, too. She yelled back at him desperately, “I’m serious!! Yuya!!”

She took a deep breath and sighed away the restless pulse in her chest she had felt in anticipation to one last announcement.

“Closing Gate A-5. Flight 518 is now departing.”

[ao3feed-cherik]

The focal point

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2jCOfxW

by blackcricket

For one, serenity is forgotten. For the other, rage is forbidden.

Words: 379, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: X-Men (Movieverse)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr

Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier

Additional Tags: Poem verse, serenity and rage, they are in love, otp, Cherik - Freeform

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2jCOfxW

[sethnakht]

Leia, for the character/ship meme, please! :D

Thank you for sending this, love! I did a terrible job responding to the same request at an earlier date, so am grateful for the chance to try again - apologies for the long delay in responding, I’m trying to finish my dissertation in the next few weeks and it’s sapped a lot of energy. 

Give me a CHARACTER or a SHIP, and I will bold the statements that are true, and elaborate on my preferences and specific narrative kinks where I am so moved.

Do not want. Ptooey.

I am neutral, indifferent and serene. Send me a rec and change my mind.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they’re in it.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they get a happy ending.

Break them and make them bleed.

Swaddle them in fluff.

I’m mostly interested in gapfilling and exploring their canon interactions.

Throw the canon out the window; bae deserves better.

Gimme crackfic.

Gimme all the tropes.

Subvert the tropes and set them on fire.

I am a simple soul: I’m here because they’re hot and sometimes naked.

Here is my OTP. Come between them and I will…ship and let ship, because I am a civilized fanperson, but CAN’T YOU SEE THEY’RE PERFECT TOGETHER??! (Or perfectly, fascinatingly, shippably dysfunctional, in certain cases.)

I have favoured and disfavoured ships. Convince me. Seduce me.

The first time I tried answering this meme, I got very uncomfortable in this section and just named Han/Leia as an OTP because it is difficult for me to imagine the structure of Leia’s trajectory after ESB without Han … and yet. 

I’m not sure how to put this, as it amounts to a kind of blasphemy, so will be blunt: I’m not particularly interested in Leia’s romantic relationships with men. As in, at all interested. If she has to be with a man, then Han, of course. Han and Leia both shape each other in significant ways in canon, and they’re also fascinatingly dysfunctional together. There’s also so much narrative weight on their being together that thinking them apart without sacrificing characterization is a real challenge. And let me be clear: I’ve greatly enjoyed reading stories where Han/Leia is the lens for exploring her character, no question.

But - and this came to me as something of a revelation after posting the last attempt at this meme - what I really want with Leia are two things: resolution of her very unresolved familial issues, and to see the person she can be in her relationships to other women. 

Leia has such range when faced with men: if she meets their bullshit with stone-cold logic, insta-kill blaster-shots, devastating sarcasm, bold lies, and an aura of indomitable authority, she is also a loyal friend, open to changing her first impressions (to which she is quick to jump), capable of deep compassion and empathy. She’s vulnerable and also a force of nature. I want to see that range - that highly colored but flexible perspective - explored in a bigger playing field, those powers used with and against women - to see her politicking, scheming, building alliances, lying through her teeth as she attends galas and operas and ballets, sneaking off to clandestine gatherings, gossiping viciously, doing specifically feminine things but also transgressing or complicating gendered roles. Is it too much to want to see her friendships and rivalries and spats and revelations with other women? I know people don’t like how Amilyn was written in TLJ, and I follow the critique to a point, but it cannot erase for me that her existence was revelatory. For the first time in the films, Leia was no longer the sole woman of her generation, and that has meant more to me than I think it possible for me to express in a meme. Short version being, I have a lot of love for Leia/Amilyn (and Leia/Evaan). Same goes for Leia/Trios, with all the trust that Leia invests into what she thinks is a friendship with someone who finally gets her, and the temptation she poses to someone as rigidly formal and cornered as Trios. Leia’s incandescent rage at the betrayal, the murderous depths of her anger, mirrored by the rage felt by Trios at her imprudence: it’s fascinating. Even Leia/Aphra appeals, for some reason, if mostly as a giant middle finger to Vader in a situation where they’re all somehow working together … and I love the trope where Leia is close to one of Padmé's former handmaidens. In short, femmeslash / strong female friendships + Leia is where it’s at for me. *hides*

I had an OTP once, but then this amazing author, [insert author here], seduced me. Goddammit.

Fandom bicycle, baby! \o/

I have no shippy feelings at this time.

My feelings cannot be summed up by this meme. Have a seat while I put the kettle on.

I did such a poor job trying to answer this before that I won’t risk doing an even worse job now. But it seems safe to say that Leia is, for me, one of those OTCs that one has over the course of one’s life, someone who is more than just a character, who is a part of one's self. She's saved me more than once, you could say.