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hannie-dul-set · 5 years ago

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“i'll take your word for it and no one else's.” [lee jeno]

SUMMARY | maybe snooping through your friend’s phone wasn’t that much of a good idea. or maybe it was. either way, you didn’t regret it. PAIRING | lee jeno x reader GENRE | friends to something, fluff, lots of bickering JHDFJ WARNINGS | swearing, invasion of privacy (LMAO idk) WORD COUNT | 2.1k TAGLIST | @danishmiilk @lucyinthesunshinee @sehunniepot @nct-writers @czennienet @neowritingsnet

a/n: i didn’t think i’d turn another one of my dreams into a fic, but here we are HAHHAHA i tweaked a few bits and pieces to make it work (setting + added some dialogue + changed the ending because i WOKE UP before it could finish hmph) but please enjoy this unscheduled fic!! <3

early summer afternoons were warm.

bright rays of the sun were showering on your skin as you lounged on the park bench, hot enough to make you feel the season but not too hot to singe your skin. it was the perfect weather to waste the day outside, and your younger brother and cousin decided to haul you outside so they can play basketball at the park.

but you didn't know why your friend jeno decided to come along.

"your brother messaged me," he grinned at you, plopping down beside you with a long, refreshed sigh. a towel was slung around his neck and he used it to wipe the sweat on his face. "what? why are you staring at me like that?"

"since when were you close with my brother?"

"am i not allowed to be friends with the little guy?" he joked, but apparently he took the unamused look on your face completely the wrong way. "oh my god, are you afraid that he'll take all my attention away from you?" to further tease, he brought his smug face closer to yours that was dumbfounded in shock, his stupidly irritating smile moving in closer.

sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.

but you loved him nonetheless.

"like hell i want your attention," you sneered, lightly shoving him away with a glare. he only laughed at your display of annoyance. "go back to playing with the kids or something, you goof."

the never leaving grin in his face seemed brighter against the sun, and he playfully ruffled your hair before running off to disappear into the court.

"as you wish, m'lady."

you let out a huff of air, rolling your eyes as your cheeks were involuntary tugged upwards, prompting a smile to form on your lips. you brought your hands to your hair, fixing the mess that jeno left with, and your gaze landed on the phone he left beside you. the screen flashed on. someone was calling him.

brows knitted together, you picked up the ringing phone, unable to recognize the caller id. you brought the device to your ear, standing up walking towards the court— you figured that you'd just answer whoever that was now and just pass it on to jeno once he was at reach.

"hello?"

"oh, hello there!" there was a pause from the caller "is lee jeno around, miss? would you mind giving the phone to him?"

the voice was that of a middle aged woman's, but it wasn't someone that you recognized. you assumed it was a relative of his or something because you'd know that this was his mom if it were her. "ah, give me a moment! i'll just look for him."

your feet stopped at the edge of the court, the sound of a ball bouncing into the concrete jarring against your ears. not bothering to look at the scene in front if you, you covered the mic with your hand before deciding to shout.

"jeno! someone's calling you!"

there was no usual prompt answer from your friend.

"he's not here!"

the loud voice of your brother answered instead, causing you to narrow your eyes into the court scene with a tinge of confusion masking your expression. there was indeed no mop of blue hair within the area, and you were only confused even further.

"where did he— aish, nevermind."

scratching your head, you swiveled your heels and decided to just head back to the bench. "hi, sorry. i'm not sure where he is right now. so if it's fine with you, can you call him again later? or maybe i could just tell him to call you back when he returns?"

"oh, then can you just relay this to him? it won't take that long, i promise."

you inwardly sighed, but agreed nevertheless. oh, you were definitely gonna ask him to treat you and the kids dinner later. why the fuck did he just disappear like that? now you were responsible for memorizing whatever this woman was telling you (apparently it was about an architecture summer program he was interested in— the lady was a head from his department and she was just calling to tell him that he was accepted. she says she'll be forwarding more details later through text).

"alright, thank you! i'll be sure to inform him when he gets back."

the call ended, and you groaned. you were about to close the phone, but then all of a sudden a notification appeared with a quiet ding!

[haechan 🌟 liked your retweet.]

ding!

[ohhh shit why do i feel like i know who this is.]

"huh."

you knew that you shouldn't be snooping inside your friend's phone. you knew that you shouldn't be invading his privacy no matter how enticingly juicy the bait was. you knew that it was flat out wrong. but—

"ah, just a peek," you clicked on the notification. "payback for making me deal with his stuff."

a hint of excitement rushed through you. jeno never told you his twitter. actually, you didn't even know he had one. he was always buried with studies, sports, and friends so you didn't expect him to keep up with social media— this fact enough was surprising, but the moment the screen finally loaded the tweet

you were even more surprised than you were a few seconds ago.

[@markly tweeted: "it's kind of funny how sometimes we just meet random people at the most random of moments and you don't expect it but they just end up sticking by your side until now"]

[@leejeno quoted: "yeah. a few years back, i saw this girl while i was walking. it wasn't the usual path that i took to school. i saw her having trouble crossing the street because there was a dog hanging around (she's scared of them) so i decided to help her. she couldn't even look at my face back then out of embarrassment but earlier we were calling until four in the morning. if i took a different path that day or if i didn't help her, i don't know how i'd be like right now because she's become one of the most important people in my life."]

your heart skipped a beat. two beats. three. it was running a mile a minute and you could barely even breathe to catch up.

[@do0 replied: how are you two right now?]

[@leejeno replied: "we're good haha. i'm going with her and her brother to the park later. we're still really good friends.]

[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]

"hey, sorry for running off there. i went to get some— whoa. whats up?"

oh my fucking god.

you shot up, eyes wide, and you automatically turned off the phone. broken stutters left your lips, as the leaping of your heart to your throat prevented you from saying even a semblance of a coherent sentence. all you could think of when you met his worried gaze, the way he rushed to your side to check on you, was the last thing you read. your grip on his phone tightened.

but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there

you were gonna fucking lose it.

"hey, are you okay?"

quick, gentle hands landed on your cheeks, fingers brushing against your skin like a match igniting a flame. you nearly got lost and tongue-tied all over again, but you quickly slapped his hands away in a scolding fit. "jesus christ, i'm fine. you just surprised me. are you a ghost or something?" you glared at jeno, but it only lasted one second because you couldn't bear to look at him without your insides going crazy. because of that, your eyes flicked to the plastic bag he dropped onto the bench. he brought you something to eat.

"a-and before you ask—" you defended yourself indignantly when he didn't even accuse you of anything. "i wasn't snooping. the school called. it was about your summer program. you got in."

"oh? they called already?" you nodded. "ah, let's talk while walking— the kids are mad because i only got you food. they're asking me to buy the entire store for them to compensate," he released an airy laugh. you mentally scolded yourself.

keep it cool. you repeated the mantra inside your head as you strided beside jeno, your brother and cousin racing ahead of you. street lights were lighting up and the sky was fading into the night. cool cool cool cool cool. keep it cool.

the walk to the store felt way too gruelling than it normally would. it wasn't even that far. you told jeno everything the lady had told you, including the more detailed texts that she'd be sending later on. you thought that he'd be a lot more excited after hearing— he was interested, after all. but to you, he just seemed dismissive. "should i go?" he mindlessly asked.

"what are you talking about?" your brows furrowed. "yeah, of course. you wanted to, right?"

"but it's gonna last an entire month this summer," he yawed, stretching out his arms and hooking you by the neck, causing you to halt and stumble into him. you held back a squeak, and he looked at you, eyes gleaming with curious anticipation. a car sped by. "you still want me to go?"

those damned words that you read echoed inside your head again. you wondered if it resonated into the fucking nerves of your heart, as well.

"i—i mean," you stammered. "it's only one month. and it would also help you a lot in the future, right? you'd make a lot of connections during the camp. so yeah, i do want you to go."

he blinked at you. a hum sounded from his closed lips. he let go of you and resumed walking. you gaped when he left you behind.

was this karma?

"hey, what the hell?" quickly, you caught up to him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt so that you could hang on to him. "why are you being sulky? i didn't do anything wrong!" technically you did do something wrong, but he didn't have to know that.

"you said you wanted me to go."

"you're a baby," you scrunched your nose is disapproval. "i only said that because you said you wanted to go."

jeno abruptly stopped. maybe you were causing a scene in front of all the passersby, but you really didn't give a fuck anymore when your head was in a looped up mess. all thanks to your extremely difficult friend who apparently doesn't want to just be your friend. you swore that he was driving you insane on purpose.

he pulled out his phone and faced the screen to you. your sweat dropped.

[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]

"even after reading this," he started. "you still want me to go?"

"w-well."

he just had to be so fucking sharp. well, you weren't exactly slick either. maybe he saw a glimpse of the screen before you got to turn it off earlier. heat started to rise from your neck into your face, a grinding mixture of embarrassment and desire to be hit by a moving truck afflicting your nerves. why were you the one suffering? shouldn't it be him?

"no."

he hummed, turning off his phone and shoving the device into his pocket. arms crossed, he leaned in to your face, bearing a look of feigned innocence. "but you said i'd make a lot of useful connections."

"you can make those anywhere."

"and it's only a month, right?"

"that's thirty days too long."

"and—"

"oh, come on!" you exclaimed, balling your fists in vexation. another car sped by with an accompanied honk. jeno simply wore a look of faint amusement at your little outburst. "i don't want you to join your stupid summer program. happy now?"

"well, if you say so."

you stared at him. he patted your head, eyes disappearing into a pair of crescents with a smile.

"i'll take your word for it and no one else's."

you were left frozen and dumbfounded in the middle of the sidewalk as jeno brazenly spun his heels to chase after the runaway kids that went before you— literally leaving you behind. letting a curse slip past your breath, you also went after them. he was definitely driving you insane on purpose.

sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.

this was one of those times.

"you said you weren't gonna go, you asshole!"

"payback for snooping through my phone!"

but you could still love him nonetheless.

#NCT-WRITERS #czennet #neowritingsnet #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno scenarios #jeno scenarios #jeno fluff #lee jeno fanfic #jeno fanfic #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff

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shera-dnd · 4 years ago

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So I watched The Secret of NIMH for the first time recently and just

We really freaking need more mom protagonists

Like Mrs. Brisby is definitely not what you expect out of your action adventure protagonist, but she still goes on a whole wild ass quest to save her family, and that just makes everything so much more interesting

That adorable little rat mom just brings like a new perspective to this kind of story and I appreciate it a lot. Especially considering how samey a lot of protagonists in those stories feel

And now I'm just thinking of like

Hey what if Nora from FFXIII survived and got to join the party too

What if Willow from RWBY had also trained to be a huntress (I mean her dad is a badass and she definitely has the family semblance)

What if Inko from MHA was allowed to be a hero as well as a mom

There are so many cool moms out there in fiction that could be their own protagonists of their own cool stories. Just a bunch of people who can be both moms and total badasses, and I wish we got to see more stuff like that

and motherfuckers if I wasn't neck deep in a dozen other projects I'd be writing all those AU fanfics right the fuck now

look this isn't half as coherent as I wanted this to be, but I just woke up and I'm rambling because one cute mouse lady from an 80s movie got me thinking about shit

#self indulgence #rambles #rwby #ffxiii #mha

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acciofanfics · 5 years ago

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Could You Shut The Door? (Newt Scamander)

Pairing: Newt Scamander x FemReader

Warnings: Not smut... but almost. A very shy Newt, and I think that’s it?

Summary: An excited Newt barges into your room and quickly becomes a very nervous Newt who got quite the eyeful.

A/N: So this will turn into smut, I just started typing and it started to get lengthy so I figured I’d turn it into a 2 parter. Hopefully this isn’t too OOC and that’s about it! Let us know if there’s anyone else in the HP-verse that you’d like to see in a similar situation or a more wholesome one 😂 - S

(Y/N) had always been close with the Scamander’s. Her family lived right down the street for years, so she’d grown up with Theseus and Newt. And given the fact that their parents were close as well it was no surprise that she would stay with the Scamander’s for a few nights. In fact, they would be taking her to King’s Cross to board the Hogwarts Express in three days time.

What was surprising was the scene that Newt was beholding. He hadn’t meant to just barge into the room that (Y/N) was staying in; he had been just so excited about spotting the fairy they were trying to lure into the garden that he completely forgot about the concept of knocking. As excitable as he had been to come running into her room, Newt now stood frozen and wide-eyed. (Y/N) stood before him in nothing but what seemed like a smaller than average towel.

Newt didn’t mean to gawk, but he found himself unable to do anything else. (Y/N) was cut from a different cloth than Newt, she seemed to be completely un-phased by the situation, “Umm Newt would you mind just coming in and shutting the door behind you?”

Newt followed the instructions she had laid before him, although he felt like he was doing something wrong she seemed so calm. “So what has you so excited this evening, Newt?”

Newt knew that if his face wasn’t already red that it certainly was now. It wouldn’t be a lie if he were to admit he had harbored a crush on his childhood friend for a few years now, and Newt wasn’t stupid he could see that there were times he let his nervous nature shine through. However, (Y/N) and Newt were pretty much the best of friends and he didn’t usually feel shy around the girl. Now however he was having a hard time even forming a single word, “I- I.. um I mean- I saw a f-fairy in the garden.”

“Seriously?! Is it still out there?! We have to go check!” (Y/N) grabbed Newt’s hand, her towel slipping ever so slightly. One of the reasons Newt found her so alluring was her shared love for creatures, of course he couldn’t really recall many of those reasons at the moment. Only the ones on display in front of him.

Newt grabbed her other hand before she was able to swing the door open. “You’re... not dressed.” He felt weird having to remind the girl. How could she forget? Or at least not care... it was entirely odd.

“Oh! Sorry, that would definitely be embarrassing.” (Y/N) chuckled thinking about how disastrous the situation could’ve been. “Your mum, dad and Theseus seeing me naked would definitely not be appropriate.”

“What about me?” Newt managed to squeak out.

She felt terrible. Clearly the poor boy was about to faint and she remained oblivious to it until he brought it up. Something about Newt always put her at ease, she couldn’t ever think of a moment around him that she had ever felt embarrassed or insecure. Except for this one where the thought crossed her mind that she had been taking the comfort he provided her for granted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize... and that sounds stupid. I should’ve! Of course this would bother you!”

As strange as he found (Y/N) being at ease, he didn’t much prefer her feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not bothered- I just- I mean- you’re... and I’m... I can’t help but- I’ve kinda- please make me shut up.”

They were definitely close enough for (Y/N) to know what was going on. She’d had suspicions that he returned her feelings, but she also knew of other classmates he was close with so she hadn’t wanted to assume. Of course there was probably no hope of their relationship returning to innocent, oblivious friendship. In a moment of bravery, she released his hands and dropped her towel.

Newt felt himself swallow loudly and he swore he his heart was beating so fast that he could hear the thumping in his ears. He kept his eyes locked on hers, it was quite difficult to do. He asked her to shut him up and boy did she. “You can look, Newt.”

He still hesitated for a moment, afraid it might be a trap or a dream (he’d had similar ones before). But soon his resolve broke and he looked (Y/N) up and down. He was 17 years old and he wasn’t stupid, he definitely thought about this, he just prided himself on being a gentleman enough to push those fantasies to the depths of his mind. She was gorgeous though, every inch of her exposed to him, it was hard to keep those thoughts at bay now.

“I’m hoping your silence is approval.”

“Merlin, yes...” he didn’t know if he could come up with a coherent sentence, “Can I...”

She smiled and nodded. He thanked the heavens up above that she wouldn’t make him finish; he wasn’t sure he could handle it. His hands reached out for hers slowly and she chuckled when he paused again. Newt frowned slightly, he wasn’t sure what she expected from him. This was a lot to process... he wasn’t as brave or outgoing and she was (that was probably why she was sorted into Gryffindor much to his dismay). Feeling disheartened by the laugh his grip on her hands loosened a bit, he was all but ready to drop them completely and retreat to his room or to a cold shower one.

(Y/N) meant nothing by the chuckle other than her fondness over his demeanor. Feeling his semblance of confidence wavering, (Y/N) dropped his hands and before Newt even had a moment to feel disappointed she had grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down so she could kiss him. Newt had always been rather tall and lanky, especially compared to her so while she would’ve preferred not resorting to drastic measures like yanking his clothes it was really the only way.

Newt hadn’t minded the assertiveness after all, in fact it was comforting. He melted into her kiss and found himself unintentionally moving closer. Newt had kissed a girl before, but this was definitely different. The way she moved her lips against his was a different sensation than he’d experienced before and it was all that he could do to keep up with her and he only tore away from her when it was physically necessary to breathe.

“I’m sorry... I’m not... I haven’t had a lot of practice.” Newt admitted hesitantly, but he felt he owed her an explanation. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Well if that’s the case, you’re a natural Mr. Scamander.” (Y/N) offered up a reassuring smile. “Although, is if you’d like more practice we could-“

“Yes!” His cheeks reddened at his own outburst, but he smiled cheekily at her.

“You know it’d be much easier if you’d sit down. You’re a bit tall.” She led him to the bed where he sat on the edge. Newt glanced to the side where he expected her to sit beside him, but his breath got caught in his throat when she placed herself on top of him. For the first time he thought he may have seen her second guess herself, “Is this alright?”

Unable to speak again Newt just nodded lamely. He hoped that he wasn’t making her feel like she was pushing him into something he didn’t want to do. Of course she was pushing him a little, but into something he definitely wanted. This was something he imagined quite a few nights, of course in his dreams he wasn’t acting nearly as pathetic. With (Y/N) sitting literally on top of him there surely wasn’t a way she couldn’t feel that he definitely approved of her straddling him, but just in case he willed himself to not act so afraid. Newt placed his hands onto her waist.

It wasn’t quite as forward as he could’ve been, but she was dealing with Newt Scamander, the sweetest and shyest person she knew. She smiled and reconnected their mouths. Newt seemed a little more at ease this time, as strange as it sounded it was it did seem quite natural for his lips to be moving against hers. They just seemed to move in sync, occasionally their tongues would brush and her teeth scrape his lips making his grip on her waist tighten. He was prepared to apologize for the pressure, but when she broke away she attached her lips to his neck and the only thing he could do in retaliation was dig his fingers into her flesh further. She shifted her hips slightly to get better access, when she did so Newt could help but let out a small moan. (Y/N)‘s lips twitched into a smile against his skin. “Newt, your parents are downstairs. We should be quiet... I mean if you want to continue?”

Read Part Two Here.

#newt scamander #newt #newt scamader x reader #newt scamander imagine #newt scamander smut #newt smut #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts #fanfiction #fanfic

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kimetsunoyaibawritings · 4 years ago

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Introspection

[AO3 Version] | [Original Request]

Rating: General

Summary: When a rainstorm threatens Tanjiro's travels through the countryside, he takes refuge in the home of a kind stranger. During his stay, he discovers that not only is his host of half-demon blood, but their mother had also been a member of the Demon Slayer Corps.

Tanjiro is nothing if not curious, and learns more about the multifaceted world of demonkind, hopefully growing ever closer to undoing the curse upon his sister.

Tanjiro could tell that something was off. From the moment that the man had entered into his physical perception he knew that something wasn't quite right. The man -- you -- weren't entirely human. Neither were you entirely demon, but he couldn't get much detail behind the simple fact of otherness that permeated the air around you with every shift of your body.

It wasn't a bad smell either. In fact, when you bowed in greeting, he found the gesture scented with honesty and friendliness instead of hidden malice or insincerity. He bowed in turn, and the two of you exchanged names. It didn't take long before you took note of his weapon, and much less after that to realize that the wooden case hefted against his back held something far less trivial than one would have assumed. Not something, but someone.

His nose was sharp -- for a human, at least. Yours was just as honed, though the ability came from your mixed blood than from a rare natural gift. It took but one breath with a defined focus to realize the young man you'd met was hardly a normal person.

Demon Slayer.

The words held some semblance of meaning. Nothing with coherent form; they were words passed down to you from your parents, spoken with such fearful vitriol that you had to wonder what kinds of people became such Slayers of Demons. Surely they would be bloodthirsty, heartless souls that would so willingly strike down such simple people without due thought or consideration to what their sins truly were -- assuming that existence itself wasn't a sin for a demon.

But as Tanjiro stood before your eyes, you had to reconsider the image that had built up behind the words. He did not look bloodthirsty. He didn't even seem aggressive. But he still carried the nichirin blade that you'd been warned of, and you had to wonder how many demons had been killed at the mercy of its sharpened edge.

So you, a half-demon standing before one so named a demon slayer, do the careful thing:

You invite Tanjiro to stay with you for the night.

Truthfully, Tanjiro isn’t in a position to reject the offer. he’d been traveling for several days through the rolling landscape between the mountains, and he could smell a thunderstorm coming in. For all that he couldn’t understand you or your strange scent, Tanjiro really had no reason not to trust in his kindness.

The house you called your own is humble, too far from the nearest village for anyone to randomly stumble upon you without incredible forewarning. Tanjiro is actually quite the rarity, one that you find some manner of joy in meeting — the last person you’d met was half as kind and barely a fraction as patient.

“Are you a demon slayer?” you find yourself asking barely a moment after the two of you have stepped into the narrow threshold of the front doorway. Beyond is a home consisting of a few rooms at most, minimally furnished but meticulously cared for.

Tanjiro barely has the chance to set his gear down, but he flashes an earnest smile in your direction.

“I am,” he says. There’s pride in his tone. “Though I’m a little surprised. Not a lot of people recognize us that quickly, unless…”

“No. I don’t have any connection,” you quickly dash his assumption aside. “But I recognize the uniform and weapon you’re carrying. Nichirin blade, correct?”

Tanjiro blinks, but the look of warmth never quite fades from his face even as he nods to affirm your suspicion. It sates your surface curiosity, but it doesn’t offer any sort of clue as to what is in the box he’d carried upon his back. For a moment you wonder if it would be rude to inquire about it, but shrug the notion off quickly when you remember how strange the box smells. Not weapons, not rations, but something softer.

“What’s in that box of yours?”

Tanjiro’s entire frame stiffens. In barely a breath’s worth of time, his demeanor tightens up and leaves the young man looking tense and unsure. With one hand gently laying upon the wooden surface of his cargo, he says, “Something… very important to me,” he then reaches his other hand up, fingers splayed open and shaking as if to ward off concern. “-but I promise it’s nothing dangerous.”

You can smell a soft trace of anxiety around him. While the unexpected reaction incites a spark of curiosity within your chest, it’s not without a resounding sense of restraint and mannered respect for Tanjiro’s privacy. If he doesn’t wish to share the nature of it’s contents with you — someone who is little more than a stranger to him, admittedly — then he is under no such obligation. Still, you purse your lips for a moment in disappointment before lightly gesturing for him to step further into the house with you.

“I’d been cooking food when you arrived,” you say gently. “Clean yourself up and I’ll serve us both something hot to eat.”

It doesn’t take very long before the two of you are sitting together, sipping at the brothy soup that had been bubbling away for the entirety of the earlier afternoon. Though the majority of the meal is somewhat silent, Tanjiro’s eyes move about the room, taking in every detail that raises above the floor and out from the walls. It doesn’t take a genius to realize how well he fits into the ideal of a Demon Slayer — Tanjiro is perceptive and foolhardy with at least some basic talent for the blade on his hip.

Beyond that, however, you’re not quite sure what is to be expected of him as a slayer. He’s very kind and respectful… but those are hardly the traits you’ve come to associate with the title. Everything about the young man demands curiosity, so much that you don’t realize how his gaze has settled onto one particular spot on the wall behind you. By the time you remember what is hanging openly, Tanjiro’s lips are already forming a question -

“Whose sword is that on your wall?”

You don’t even turn your eyes around to look at it. The object has taken a defined place within your memories — you can’t forget the shape of the blade, the texture of the hilt, or the soft smile of it’s previous owner even if you genuinely wanted to purge them from your thoughts.

A sigh escapes your lips after a few moments. “It belonged to my mother,” you explain after a moment. When Tanjiro’s rust-colored eyes light up, you decide to answer the question just behind his lips. “And yes, it’s what you think it is. She was a demon slayer herself.”

“Oh,” the syllable falls with a sense of understanding of was rather than is. A misjudged understanding, given the ambiguity of your answer, but a respectful one nonetheless. “I’m sorry.”

A moment passes.

“And… your father?” Tanjiro asks.

The speed at which you shake your head is almost comical. No. No. The visual image is a joke in itself, and Tanjiro doesn’t even realize why his question is so humorous to you.

“My father was not the kind of person for that line of work.” a gentle chuckle does manage to escape the poised line of your lips. “…I doubt he’d be able to wield a blade like that in the first place.”

It feels as if the conversation is going to continue out from there, a gentle rolling of waves upon the edge of a beach after the brief storm of near-realization to what was hiding just beneath the surface of half-dodged answers. But it doesn’t manage to get farther than another breath before a noise sharply echoes out from the wooden box set out near the doorway and shocks both of you into a gazing silence.

“Tanjiro,” your tone is careful and your eyes hone in on the item. Caution prickles in your fingertips and against your tongue as claws and fangs slowly emerge from behind a carefully-kept glamor. “what is in that-”

“What are your thoughts on demons?”

You blink, turning to face the man again with a look that does not hide an ounce of your confusion. It takes a few moments for some of the dots to connect to one another. The reason for him asking your opinion is hanging right above your head, a heavy reminder to half of your heritage — but it doesn’t quite match all of the points of confusion all but emanating from Tanjiro and the strange box he carried with him.

Still, his question deserves an answer. And even as your eyes settle carefully on the square shape across the room, you offer one.

“Asking my thoughts on demons is no different than asking my thoughts on humans,” you say, words careful and tone oddly tight. “Some are good, some are bad, and none-” a sharp breath passes over your lips. “-none are perfect.”

Tanjiro’s eyes linger on you for a long while, longer than what feels comfortable for the silence between you. For a few moments you wonder if his question was a test and your answer had failed it abysmally, but it didn’t change your feelings on the matter in the slightest. Nothing ever will.

Another sharp noise echoes from the direction of the box. Your eyes begin to dart towards it, but the motion of Tanjiro’s body commands your attention towards him instead, he as if ready at any moment to launch himself towards the box, but his eyes meeting yours openly and earnestly.

“So you’re saying you think some demons can be good, right?”

You watch him, but sense no malice in the young man’s gaze.

“Of course.”

Relief seems to flood across his expression. When another, more rhythmic sound comes from the box, he doesn’t so much jump towards it as he does shuffle to his feet and step across the room. Before he’s able to reach it, however, the door suddenly opens to reveal a shape of pink fabric spilling out from within. You blink and watch as the fabric moves, and ever so quickly does your mind realize that there is a person within it, wearing the kimono that reminds you of cherry blossoms in springtime.

By the time Tanjiro is at the side of the wooden box and holding out an outstretched hand, you’ve come to realize that it’s been a young girl inside of it the entire time.

A demon. The scent doesn’t escape your nose for a moment, though it lacks the underlying sharpness of iron you’d come to expect from others of her kind and yours alike.

And Tanjiro regards her with tolerance, nay, respect. It seems to take the young woman a few moments to orientate herself to her surroundings, but he smiles at her with all the same gentleness.

“It’s okay, Nezuko,” Tanjiro says brightly, pulling the woman onto her feet. “This is a safe place.”

Despite all the words that press up behind your tongue, you can’t help but stare at the young duo. Tanjiro smiles and gestures towards the young woman beside him, Nezuko.

“This is my… younger sister,” he says at last. The air settles around the room in a nonverbal confirmation of information that doesn’t take more than a heartbeat to confirm, but it leaves you equally confused and curious all the same.

“Tanjiro,” you murmur, words finally picking up a semblance of strength. “This may be a stupid question, but are you aware that your sister is currently a demon?”

Though it’s not clear what would have been more surprising of an answer, Tanjiro’s honest nod does seem to do plenty to throw you for a loop. A demon slayer traveling around with a demon at his side? The notion vexes you completely, even if the demon in question is a member of his familiy. Unless…

“Was she born a demon?”

Tanjiro and Nezuko both look at you, the former with a more defined look of confusion across his face.

“Born…?” he asks. “As in turned? Turned into a demon?”

“Ah,” you suddenly feel a bit silly and more than a little embarrassed as his confusion seems to be genuine. “I think I misunderstood a few things. I’ve got my answer in any case but, no, I did actually mean born as in physically birthed.”

While Nezuko loses interest in the conversation and begins to roam about the room, her brother slowly settles back onto his spot across from you — albeit shooting a glance to his young sister every once in a while which is admittedly endearing. The two of them seem barely old enough to be out on their own, and you’re not sure if the demon slayers even have a minimum age requirement to begin with as long as someone can hold a weapon and defend another.

“How could someone give birth to a demon?” Tanjiro finally asks. “I thought they were only created by… uh.” he pauses for a few moments, waiting as if to catch something in your eyes. Recognition perhaps? “…A man named Muzan Kibutsugi.”

He’s not bothering to conceal his befuddled expression as, behind his eyes, you can see the threads of thought and logic try desperately to put an answer together from the bits of information he already knows about demon-kind.

“Most are,” your words taste bittersweet on the tongue. “But not all of them. Some demons can create other demons if they’re strong enough.”

Tanjiro nods as the faces of both Lady Tamayo and Yushiro appear in his mind’s eye. Though she had been a demon created by Muzan, he recalled that Yushiro was created by her hand in the continuing search for a cure to turn someone human once more. It had been the only instance where he’d come across a demon not created by the demon king himself, but it’s a clear enough example that Tanjiro doesn’t need to stretch his mind very far to understand your words.

Seeing this recognition, your hand raises to gesture up towards your chest, fingertips barely skimming across the wash-worn fabric of your kimono.

“You asked before about some demons being ‘good’.”

Tanjiro nods. Even Nezuko has moved her attention towards you, though she stands solemnly in one of the darker corners of the room as her eyes glow like shimmering sakura blossoms.

Considering the nature of whom was sitting in front of you — the organization for which Tanjiro allied himself with — there was a part of you that wished to simply lie between your teeth and wait out the night until it would be socially acceptable to all but kick the young warrior out of your home. That part had good reasons to be cautious and fearful, but another part of you found something hopeful behind the young man’s eyes. You aren’t naïve enough to call it ‘trust’, but the emotion is certainly within the same pond.

“My father was a good man,” your hand lingers, stilled against your chest and all but faintly feeling the thrum of your own heartbeat. “An odd man, but a good one. Tended to the fields, took care of my mother when she fell ill, even managed to make friends with some folks of the local village. He respected everyone around him.”

Even as he remains politely silent, something starts to click in Tanjiro’s eyes, even before you finish the point of your words.

“…my father was also a demon created by Kibutsugi.”

Tanjiro blinks with wide surprise and shock stilling the words that otherwise press against the back of his lips. While there had been a growing hunch forming somewhere within his thoughts, he can’t help the suddenness of the question needed to confirm them when he finally can speak again.

“Does that mean that you are-”

“Half-demon, yes.”

"How does that even...happen...?"

You chuckle, "I'd imagine how most people go about having babies."

Tanjiro's cheeks turn a dark red, and he quickly drops that particular line of questions.

You try to offer the young man a comforting smile, but he continues to stare in a summation of awe and disbelief. He’d never even thought that a demon and human could have a child together. For the longest time since learning of their existence, Tanjiro simply thought that demons couldn’t have children at all — like an extension of the curse befallen upon them, leaving them wanting for human flesh and blood, feral and wild and-

It is then that Tanjiro’s thoughts click into place once more. No. He’s not without multiple examples to the contrary, strengthened each and every day by the knowledge that his own sister is of the same creation as many of the demons so easily vilified and hated. But, even then, it doesn’t change the fact that Nezuko is a rarity — her lack of bloodshed is, as far as he’d learned, a genuine oddity among other demons.

“… Have you killed anyone?” he finally asks. His eyes glance towards the floor, looking almost ashamed in having to speak the words.

You shake your head. The question is hardly a surprise — you actually would have been more caught off-guard if that hadn’t been the first thought on his mind. But oddly enough, the question is something of a comfort. It allows to you answer it honestly.

“I haven’t hurt or killed anyone before — since part of my blood itself is human, my diet is relatively lackluster.” with a sweep of your hand, you gesture out to the empty bowls in front of the two of you. “I can be out beneath the sun, but my skin is somewhat sensitive to it; just a short while in direct sunlight can leave me with a terrible burn.”

Tanjiro nods. He brings up a hand to his chin for a moment to ponder over the details and new information as what appears to be every thread of his thoughts devote to try and weave it all together with what he already knew. One detail into another, filling up the ever-growing sense of curiosity that he had for demons and those around them. If nothing else, it proved that there were still things that not even the Demon Slayer corps understood properly — or, if they did, they certainly didn’t admit to them. The Hashira’s response to Nezuko solidified that well enough.

After a few moments, Tanjiro’s attention flicks back up to your face.

“Your… mother was a demon slayer, right?”

You nod politely, though it doesn’t take more than a quick glance back up to the nichirin blade hanging above both of your heads on the wall behind you to be reminded of the fact.

Tanjiro’s gaze tilts ever so slightly with his head to one side. “How did your mother and father meet?”

You shrug. “I never learned much of the details, though I do know that he was at one time a demon she was sent out to kill.”

Tanjiro chuckles after a few moments.

“I think I can guess what came after that,” he says. “So was your father… around much after you were born?”

“Of course!” your expression all but beams at the gentle memories. “Just because he was a demon doesn’t mean by default he was a bad or neglectful father. Though I suppose he so often seemed sickly to others; not able to go outside during the day, having to hide himself when there was company… I admit there is a lot about my father I still don’t know.”

For but a flicker of a moment, you are absolutely certain that there is a sadness within Tanjiro’s eyes. A mutual bitterness, empathetic beyond words. But the look is gone ever so quick, so much that if your perception was but a moment slower it would have been missed entirely.

But what remains is yet a soft expression.

“Thank you,” he finally says. “I am trying to learn as much as I can about demons right now.”

“I assume as much, being a demon slayer.”

“No, no it’s-” the young man looks suddenly flushed. “I promise I’m-… I’m not going to tell anyone about you. I just, think that… there’s a lot that I don’t understand. But I would like to. You see, my sister and I-”

And so, Tanjiro tells you the story of how he and his sister began traveling together — the murder of his family, his sister being turned into a demon, his promise to himself and those he lost that he would try to right all of the wrongs that had been done to them. He explains how he joined the demon slayers, how he had met other demons who had been kind to him in much the same way that you had been. Though the names Tamayo and Yushiro held no recognition, they did bring a sense of warmth to your chest in the confirmation that being a demon didn’t truly mean one had to give up their sense of humanity and kindness.

One topic moved onto another as the night continued on and the rainstorms moved in. Through the soft pitter-patter of water against the roof, you did your best to answer as many of Tanjiro’s questions as you could despite the fact that your knowledge of Muzan went no farther than simply hearing it once or twice and having a basic understanding of his role in the origin of demons themselves. There is also something admittedly humorous in watching Tanjiro’s expression when your glamor falls just a little, revealing sharp claws at the tip of each finger and fangs barely hidden behind the press of your lips.

“Neither my father nor I had any semblance of combat ability, but they’re useful for hunting.” a moment passes. “Animals, I mean. Me and mother still had to eat something.”

Perhaps it’s the reminder of your mother, and her lack of presence in the house with you, that finally encourages the question forth, “How long have your parents been…?”

“Dead?” you don’t fear the sound of the word or the notion behind it. “It will be twenty years this coming spring.”

“Twenty years?” Tanjiro gawks. “H-how old are you then?”

“I was born in 1857, so…” you do the math in your head, giving Tanjiro several moments to try and come to terms with the fact that you barely look older than your mid twenties at most. “This year I will be fifty-five!”

Your bright, sharp grin is in hilarious contrast with the shock all but painted across the young man’s face. After giving him a breath to take in the information, you point out, “I am half-demon. Time doesn’t mean as much to my health as it does a normal demon.”

“I… see,” Tanjiro’s eyes return to normal, but there’s no hiding his lingering awe. “So will just a nichirin blade… kill you?”

You have to laugh at just how shy the question is for the severity of the words. “Trying to plan my demise already, demon slayer?”

Though Tanjiro immediately begins to shake his hand and try to babble out an apology and explanation alike, you aren’t cruel enough to let it linger for more than a moment before explaining, “A normal blade could behead me and I would die. I could drown in a lake or perish from a high enough fall. In all things but old age, I’m still very mortal, Tanjiro — for better or worse. I can’t speak for any other half-demon you may come across, but I know that much.”

A moment of silence passes between you. Tanjiro thankfully doesn’t ask about your parents or their passing. In fact, he seems rather satisfied by the amount of information he’s gotten already, so much that his mind constantly looks as if it’s rolling about within his skull, putting together a puzzle with far too many pieces missing for most people to even bother in the first place.

The rain continues to fall. It’s a gentle white noise, ceaseless, and punctured only by the dull rolling sounds of thunder as it moves across the edges of your perception. It doesn’t take long for you to realize the time either, knowing even without looking out the door or window that the moon is high into the night sky and that, furthermore, it was not hospitable of you to keep your guest from getting a good night’s rest.

“If you have no more questions, I think it would be a good idea to get some sleep.”

There were more questions — there is always more questions — but Tanjiro can’t ignore the fact that it’s late and, yes, he would need to be moving along to his next destination early in the morning. It doesn't’ take long to ready a place for him to sleep, and less so for Nezuko who seems content to simply be near her older brother. Though she doesn’t speak a single word to you, the look in her eyes seems soft and curious, perhaps even grateful.

It’s understandable why Tanjiro has such a moderate view of demons despite being among the Demon Slayer Corps himself.

That fact in itself is something of a comfort as much as it is a curiosity, one that lingers with you even when you see the young man off the next morning, so early that the sun has barely crested above the hills and mountains on the horizon.

And Tanjiro, as he leaves, finds himself renewed with energy and questions alike. Every time he thinks he has a strong grasp on the world around him, something new emerges that throws it further into perspective in an ever-growing map of knowledge. Though the edges continue to get blurrier, there’s something nice in familiarizing himself in it. To Tanjiro, it brings him further hope for the future of not only himself, but for the Demon Slayer Corps and the greater world around them.

Maybe, he hopes, he’ll run into you again one day.

And maybe then he’ll be able to introduce his sister to you as a human — or perhaps the world will have grown in such a way that, like the union of your parents and the makeup of your own blood, it won’t even matter in the first place.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #fic #male!reader #sfw #sfw fic #writing #sfw writing #gen fic #gen writing #no ship writing #no ship fic #readerinsert #readershot #tanjiro #tanjiro kamado #request fill

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wynsnerdyrambles · 4 years ago

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KNY Season 2 News Thoughts

OK, now that I've spent the whole day squealing about this news, I might actually be able to coherently give my thoughts on it. OK, let's go chronologically in series timeline:

Mugen Train TV Anime Edition:

I actually did not see this coming. Of course I'd heard the rumors that the beginning of Season 2 would be 'Mugen Train', but I brushed those rumors aside with the logic of: "Well, the movie didn't cover the entire arc, we still have some aftermath to go over, so that's probably what this is talking about." Well, I was completely wrong. Not only are we getting what I'm affectionately dubbing "Mugen Train Extended Edition", we also get an entirely anime original episode starring Kyojuro in the days leading up to the fateful mission aboard the Mugen Train. Words cannot convey how excited I am for this re-adaptation.

I've seen some press complain that it's simply milking the Mugen Train cash cow for all it's worth. While I do feel that, in regards to things like this, the financial side of things must be taken into account when determining causes of decisions; I feel there is more to this. It's a television re-adaptation of the singular most successful film in the entire history of the Japanese box office. Much like the Television specials that have been broadcast in the past, I feel that this is more a publicity move than a financial one. Instead of compiling many episodes into a few specials to air over the course of a couple of months, we instead are treated to an extended cut of the film split up into seven episodes, including a special episode starring the film's most popular character: Rengoku-san! That way, with each new episode airing weekly, hype and publicity builds to a climax for the premiere of the Entertainment District Arc. (We also get 2 new LiSA songs serving as a full OP and ED for the mini-cour, which my KNY playlist will gladly accept). Only time will tell which version of the arc will be my preferred version for viewing, but I am ready for this arc to hurt me again- in a serialized weekly format (maybe with Taisho secrets pls).

Entertainment District Arc:

So the Entertainment District Arc will start airing early December, which to be fair, is not unexpected for me. Aniplex and Ufotable had basically nothing final to show us regarding the arc back at the Aniplex Online Fest in July, so it was always iffy in my mind that we would actually get this arc in October like many people thought. A few of my main takeaways from the trailer will follow. (Manga Spoilers after the break)

I am excited by the prospect of an hour long premiere, although it makes me wonder whether the Mugen Train re-adaptation will include the aftermath scenes with Tanjiro's visit to House Rengoku. It seems odd to me to have an hour long premiere if we're just gonna jump right into the heat of this arc, especially if you consider the fact that there are plenty more episodes in this season to follow.

Daki's voice sounds perfect! Miyuki Sawashiro definitely captured the 'sultry and intimidating' air that Daki puts on when she's confident, but I wonder how she'll fare during Daki's tantrum, or during the flashbacks to Ume. I'm sure she'll do great, though it will be interesting to see the direction they take.

On a related note, I'm quite happy they seem to be keeping Gyutaro under wraps. Hopefully we can keep it that way until December! (On a vaguely Upper Moon 6 related tangent, I'm so hyped for Doma reveal during the flashbacks, purely for the eyes, and to finally get some semblance of a canon hair color for the guy).

I was initially a little sad to hear that LiSA would not be lending her vocal talents to the OP and ED for this arc, since the vocal consistency between seasons 1 and the movie was very appealing to me; but having heard that tiny snippet of it during the promotional reel, I think it fits. It's not at all what I envisioned though. I had initially envisioned a LiSA song, that was kind of tight, focusing on the suspenseful atmosphere of the arc, and the mystery. But wow, what we got is so flamboyant, and sure to be an earworm (it's already stuck in my head). I think it works, despite having taken the opposite vibe of what I expected, and Aimer seems to be an excellent choice for this song (I've loved pretty much every song of hers' I've heard).

The shots that we were treated to in this reel seemed up to par with what I've come to expect from this adaptation of KNY, and served a really good purpose as a trailer of things to come. It showed things and characters people should keep an eye on (I'm looking at you, shot of angry Nezuko).

While we've still been shown very little footage from the arc, I'm quite excited by it, as much like Mugen Train, it's a favorite of mine, and I'm ready to see what flashy magic tricks Ufotable has in store for us with this arc. I'm just hoping and praying that Daki VS. Nezuko gets the episode 19 treatment.

Well yeah, that's the end of my hopefully coherent ramblings about this news. This has maybe been the biggest day in this fandom since I joined a little over a year ago, and I'm glad I get to be a part of this with all of you. Here's to season 2!

#demon slayer season 2 #kimetsu no yaiba #Mugen Train arc #entertainment district arc #set your heart ablaze #flamboyant #my playlist is ready but my heart might not be #not just one but two anime adaptations of mugen train!

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randomingoftherandomness · 4 years ago

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Fic: Oh, To Be Loved By You

Fandom: Mr Queen (2020)

Pairing: Bong Hwan x Cheoljeong

Tags: An Epic Gay Romance that WE DAMN WELL DESERVED, meet cute, THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING FIX IT WE FUCKING DESERVED

A/N: in part inspired by @littlestellagibson and also because in this house we ignore Canon and make our own coz fuck this shit ✌🏼

Watching the clock above the barista's head tick away into a different hour has Bong Hwan fidgeting and fussing over the water rings on the tabletop. When had he become this person who fussed over water rings?

Somehow, the thought of fussing over water causes a familiar voice to trickle down his spine as laughter tickles at the back of his skull.

Grief seizes him by the throat and just like that, being in public right now doesn't seem like the brightest idea. Bong Hwan can almost taste the sour yang of bile in the back of his throat; the panic and anguish that had taken root in him since he came back to the here and now.

It’s been a month since he returned and it has been hell. Bong Hwan spent as much time in physical therapy as he does in his condo, reading up on every single book, article, and mom’s blog post he can get his hands on about this strange and new world. Anything he can do to fill his mind and time, anything to keep him from thinking, dreaming, wishing, longing...

Everything is still the same, everything has changed.

Swallowing down the heaviness in his chest, he focuses on centering himself. Counting down the things he can hear - Blackpink wafting from the stereo, the sounds of the coffee machine and the clatter of cups and mugs, the gentle murmurs of the other patrons, the muffled rush of the morning traffic - and the way his senses of smell is slowly being overwhelmed by the jasmine tea still steaming in his cup.

It was a mistake to come out today.

He makes to stand, chair scraping as it is pushed back, Bong Hwan startles when his shoulder bumps against something solid. He turns, a quick apology on the tip of his tongue when his gaze lifts, and all semblance of coherency leaves him.

Eyes that he knows whether they’re closed in repose or open and alert. The slow tilt of those full lips. A slow dawning realisation that comes over that handsome face. That face of someone who loved him. The face of someone he loves.

“You,” The familiar stranger says, hand on his elbow to steady him and in that instance everything else falls away.

“You,” Bong Hwan breathes, the syllables tripping off his tongue and sits hanging between them in a charged pause. Before he can even stop himself, his hand moves to the stranger’s cheek, touching with his fingertips.

Gently and with an infinite tenderness that sets his entire body aflame. A quiet gasp unravels in his chest. “Cheoljeong.”

The stranger smiles, hand squeezing his elbow. “They don’t call me that anymore. Just as I’m not so sure what I should be calling you, my Queen.”

That startles a bark of laughter out of him and he stumbles a little, just to notice the way the other patrons are watching them. The stranger’s smile grows softer, private in a quiet language that lovers only speak.

“I’d rather you call me by my name.”

“And that would be?”

“Bong Hwan.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Bong Hwan. I’m Won Beom,” He says, sliding his touch into waiting hand.

Tangling their fingers together, Bong Hwan feels his world being pieced back together again.

#queen cheorin #mr. queen #mr queen #Bong Hwan x Cheoljeong #gab writes stuff

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not-sewell · 5 years ago

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i'd had this idea floating in bits and pieces in my mind for weeks now and i've now been able to string it together with some semblance of coherence, so here we go:

[i don't even know what this is classified as but it comes under soft hours, i guess?]

Foiled Date Plans Leading to Time Spent Better.

i imagine that the LI and the detective haven’t been able to hang out, go on a date, for ages because neither of them could find the time for it, both of them being swamped with work. so when the opportunity presented itself, they jumped at it.

only for things to swiftly go downhill at different times on the day of their date

N and the detective found that they both were to get off their duties early one day and quickly made their plans for a nice, evening together. the detective chooses to go big this time: booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, where they could enjoy good food, sip on some wine and listen to some smooth music. yeah, that’d do. it's all pretty smooth-sailing until their plans are foiled by a pile of unfinished paperwork that they had promised to help Tina get through. as much as they would rather be someplace else, they decide to help. they’re pretty committed to fulfilling their promise. not that they can deny Tina when she’s making those puppy eyes at them anyway. making a quick call to N to let them know what’s up (and promising to be there on time), the detective gets to the paperwork. it is only when N appears at their door that they realise how late it actually is. well, shit. there is no way they'd be able to make it to the restaurant on time. they should've quit while they were ahead. but they didn't, and they may have just ruined their date plans and this day just sucks. and it's all their fault. N finds a way to fix this before the detective spirals further into whatever headspace they were getting into, though. soon, the couple is at the detective's home, cooking a homely (yet fancy, of course) meal, N pulling the detective by their hand to sway to a light melody of jazz music playing in the background, wrapped in each other's arms – whispering sweet nothings, singing softly. well, okay, maybe the day doesn't suck as much anymore.

F is all too excited to finally get to go out with the detective. the detective had a day off, so they thought of showing F around the town: the places that the detective had discovered over the years, places that one wouldn’t necessarily include in their ‘Places to Visit in Wayhaven’ list. it seemed like a cheery day – maybe they could rent bicycles and go biking around town. this was a good idea. it felt nice to be biking again – it had been a while since they’d done it. the wind gently making its way through their hair brought a soft smile to the detective’s face. but it was only a few minutes before F decided they could ride faster, and the detective followed, the Wayhaven tour long abandoned. the wind in their hair getting progressively less gentle seemed to have an effect on the detective. F’s whooping also helped, maybe. soon, the two are speeding past people, laughing, low-key trash-talking each other and— this was not a good idea. the first thing the detective registers is the nearly blinding pain in their arm and F’s extremely concerned eyes staring down at them. any movement that shifts their position sends a searing pain up and down their forearm. well, fuck. soon, they’re at the doctor’s clinic, having received medical attention. F is uncharacteristically quiet, throwing worried glances their way. it obviously takes a lot of reassurance from the detective to quell F’s worries. then a long pause. and then laughter – belly laughter that only seems to get louder. the walk back home is now far lighter and less painful than it would’ve been. F offers to stay the night, of course. what follows is a day full of F fussing over the detective’s condition, and lots of ice-cream, popcorn and trashy Netflix movies. sure, the injury part sucked but it mattered far lesser.

M has probably rolled their eyes for the hundredth time now. the detective refuses to accept that they've fallen sick. it doesn't take M their hypersenses to recognise what is beginning to sound like the start of rales in the detective's breath. it's ridiculous, the way the detective refuses to acknowledge that they're unwell, especially with the amount of effort they've been putting to even sit upright. it takes a big coughing fit from the detective for M to put their foot down and take them back to the detective’s bedroom. yeah, no, M doesn't give a shit about the date anymore. they'd like the detective to be very much alive, instead, thank you very much. glaring the detective to bed, they run their hand more fondly than they expected over the detective’s head before making their way to the kitchen and call F to relay some solid, 'how to care for a sick partner' advice from N: hot and cold compresses, some VapoRub, soup and maybe a warm glass of milk with turmeric in it and lots of care (which they would take care of by snuggling with the detective, should they ask). the detective wakes up early next morning to find M asleep on the bed – seated next to the detective, having leaned their back on the headrest – their hand in the general area of where the detective’s head is. the detective had never really pinned M down as someone who could be so tender but hell, no one’s complaining.

A admits: they were really looking forward to the date. they didn’t know what the detective had planned – they wouldn’t tell them (maybe it involved wine-tasting?) – but it would’ve been nice to finally get to spend some time with the detective. anyway, that doesn’t matter right now, does it? they were here on a stakeout in a hilly area with probably the worst partner ever: the detective. it’s got nothing to do with the detective’s skills or attitude – they’re more skilled and dutiful than most. it’s the effect their presence has on A: their focus on the scene before them is off-kilter and they’re certainly not thinking about their mission as much as they would like to. they chide themself for being so distracted. they really need to learn to maintain their focus regardless of the company they have (just the detective but okay). gah, they need to pull themself together. even as they chide themself, they find their gaze drifting towards the detective. again. this time, they find the detective’s eyes on them too. this has been going on for a while and they both know it needs to stop. and yet, they just cannot seem to. at least the evening’s been very uneventful. it’s close to dawn when N and M join them to take over. the couple is on their way back to the Warehouse when the detective gasps softly, the way they do when they think they've got a great idea (which is usually true, but they don't necessarily need to know that). they turn to A with a bright smile. "i know of a spot," they say, "come with me!" as they pull A by their hand. they're right on time to catch the most beautiful sunrise A has seen in a long, long time. and the detective turns to look at A just in time to see the softest, most carefree smile grace A's beautiful face. they're almost too lost in their thoughts to catch A whisper a small 'thank you', interlacing their little fingers together. the day is instantly brighter.

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apocalypticwafflekitten · 5 years ago

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Northern Lights

Maul x Reader

A/N: I’m back at it again with another Maul fic! This is a cute idea that was suggested to me by @justalittlecloud! I needed and idea and they didn’t let me down! I kind of made up a story for the Northern Lights in the Star Wars Universe since I couldn’t find anything with a quick search. Did I take beats from Romeo and Juliet? Yes. And did I take inspiration from an Estonian myth? Absolutely. I just hope it’s a good story! ALSO! If you’d like to be tagged in my Starwars, or Maul-specific writings, or any other writings that I post, feel free to let me know!

Original Imagine/Summary Kinda Thingy: Maul is curious about the Northern Lights!

Warings: None, just cute, sweet, cotton-candy fluff!

Word Count: 2,322.....this was supposed to be short.....whoops.....

“Come on Maul! It’s just a few feet further! We just have to cross this little creek, and get through that bit of underbrush ahead of us.” You explained excitedly as you all but drug Maul up the side of the mountain.

“My love, I know that you know what you’re doing, but are you absolutely sure that we’re going to the right place? This seems pretty out of the way, and we lost the trail a while back.” Maul stopped walking and pointed behind him, taking you by surprise.

You turned and snickered at him with a smile.

“Of course hun! I wouldn’t just take you to some random planet and travel far off a mountain trail if I didn’t know what I was doing! I’ve done this a thousand times dear. It is my home planet after all. And my favorite place on that planet no less.” You gave Maul a smirk, and he gave you an unsure look.

“Alright. I trust you, but if you get us lost, I’ll hold it over you until the day we die.” He joked with scrutiny, pointing an accusing finger at you. Still, beneath his uncertainty, he could feel your excitement and certainty through the force, and it sent a endeared warmth through his chest. You were so cute when you were excited.

“We won’t get lost dear. I promise! We’re almost there!”

You smiled as he gave in, and let you take his hand again to lead him.

You and Maul had been married for a year now. Today was your anniversary, and you wanted to do something special for him. You had to admit that coming to your home planet was a little personal pleasure just for you, but you wanted to share it with Maul, and show him something you knew he would never forget. And where better than your favorite spot in the galaxy (besides at his side of course)?

When you pushed away the last of the underbrush Maul’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened. Before him lay paradise. From the top of the cliff he could see the emerald, mountainous valley for miles. The river than ran through was thin and shining like a silver ribbon under the night sky. And that sky. He had never seen so many stars in his life. Never had darkness been so beautiful.

He was brought back to you by your chiming giggle. He didn’t even realize that you had let go of his hand, and sat on a blanket you had laid out presumably hours before you had brought him here. He closed his mouth which had fallen open at the sight of this paradise. He hadn’t realized that had happened either.

As Maul joined you on the blanket, you smiled to him. You were surrounded by soft light from the many little candles you had lit around you. The glowing light brushed your cheek with gold, and shined off the silk dress you wore. For a moment he forgot about the valley and the stars. You were so beautiful. Enchanting and alluring in this paradise.

You giggled again, amused by his stunned silence.

“I was much the same the first time I saw this place. It’s gorgeous during the day, but the night makes this place indescribable. The glittering stars, and the silver river. It’s like magic. It’s paradise for me.”

Maul was finally able to gather his thoughts into some semblance of a coherent sentence. There was so much he wanted to say, and it all wanted to spill out at once.

“This place is...you’re...everything here is just....perfect.” He said, “Everything here is perfect.”

He breathed out, looking from the valley, to you again with all the adoration in the galaxy.

Joy beamed through you and through your smile. Maul felt it wave through the force as you hugged him. He melted. He fell into the hug, and all but crushed you. Maybe, if he hugged you tight enough, you would be able to feel all the love, appreciation, adoration, devotion, and everything else he felt for you in it’s full measure. If only words could be passed from skin to skin.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” He murmured into the crook of your neck.

“Of course my love. Only the best for our anniversary.”

Maul pulled away with a suspicious look.

“You’ve had this planned for months haven’t you?” He teased, knowing full well your meticulous tendencies.

You chuckled, and pulled away to look him in the eyes, hands slacking around his neck to rub the skin at the base of his neck.

“Perhaps.” You gave him a mischievous look paired with a smirk.

“The cutest smirk in the galaxy.” He thought.

He laughed at your ambiguous response, though he knew the real answer.

“Well, then I will happily enjoy whatever it is you have planned my dear.” He said as he pulled you in close beside him. You merely smiled at him in a way that said that you were indeed hiding something.

He had his suspicions about your plan. There was certainly something he wanted to do tonight, though that could wait if need be. He wondered what exactly it was that you were so excited to show him. What could make this paradise better? He never could have guessed what was in store for him.

“Don’t worry love. That which I want to show you will show up soon.” You promised, “Until then...”

You held his face, and turned his gaze from the stars to you.

For the first time tonight, he really looked at you. His eyes met yours, soft and deep as he watched you, memorizing the colors of your irises and the candlelight glowing within them. His eyes wandered slowly to follow the curve of your cheek, and when he reached your lips, his thumb brushed gently against them. His eyes didn’t leave your lips until you looked down, bashful because of his intense gaze.

“Hey,” he cupped your jaw with his hand, and gently nudged you to look up at him, “Don’t look away from me.”

His whisper sent a shutter down your spine and sharp inhale through your lips.

He stayed there. Staring at you with adoration and a little something more.

There was a beat of silence before he took a shaky, laboured breath in.

“May I?”

His voice was breathy; desperate and he cupped your cheek, glowing with candlelight.

You chuckled a little, and looked into his wanting eyes.

“Of course you can my love. We’re married remember. You don’t have to ask every time you want to kiss me.” Your hand held his to your face as you smiled back up at him.

His lips crashed to yours. They melded together as though they were made for each other long ago when the universe was first born. Your hands reached out to hold his handsome face.

His touch traveled to your waist, and ran up your sides, pulling your frame in to press against him. He could feel the silhouette of your body beneath the silk of your gown. His hands wandered and rubbed at the fabric, feeling it wrinkle under his fingertips, barely protecting you from his searing touch. Oh how he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to feel your skin on his, your hands on his bare chest. Your lips on his neck. Oh he needed you to cool the burning desire in his soul.

But before he could make his desires known, he felt you begin to pull away. His lips followed yours, unwilling to let you go. He tightened his hand around your waist and gave a disappointed whimper at your persistence. He never wanted to stop kissing you.

You chuckled into his kiss, and held him back by his shoulder.

“I know my love. I’d adore to kiss you more, but there’s something I have to show you...Look off to the horizon.” You whispered to him, pointing out to the edge of the world.

He pouted, but he was curious, as always, so Maul turned his head and when he saw what lay on the horizon, his eyes blew wide, and your smile grew wider.

“Wha-what is it?” His smooth voice was filled with wonder at what he saw.

The night sky had grown darker. Deeper. The stars were still shining, but cutting through that darkness, and through the stars were bright, beautiful ribbons of lights, cascading down to the horizon. Blues and greens danced between the mountains, and the river ran silver below.

“It’s called Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights.” You explained, endeared by his curiosity.

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered.

He was transfixed. His eyes were filled with whimsy, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled as wide he could, and he didn’t think of anything else. The hues from the sky mirrored in his eyes, and you couldn’t look away from them if you wanted to.

“What are they?” His voice pulled you from your state of admiration.

You blinked and collected your thoughts.

“Do you want the scientific answer, or the legend I was always told.” You asked.

“Either.” His voice was breathy again, but this time it was filled with wonder; He still hadn’t looked away. He looked at the sky the way he looked at you.

“I’ll start with the legend then.” You smiled, and scooted closer to Maul, laying your head on his shoulder, your arm reaching up to rub his back, “The story goes that there were once two lovers who were bonded by the Force. Their love ran stronger than any in the galaxy,” You noticed Maul grimace in reaction, and you huffed in amusement, knowing full well his opinion on that detail, “But despite the strength of their love, they were forbidden to be together. He was a nobleman, and she was a slave girl who served his mother. So, for many years they hid their love until the nobleman was married off to a princess whom he did not love, and made to move to her home planet. The slave girl was heartbroken, as was the nobleman, but they promised never to forget one another. And their promises held. So, as a reward, when the two had lived their lives, and passed on from this world, the Force reunited their spirits, and they were wed in the afterlife. The lights you see are their spirits, travelling together for eternity, followed by the celestial spirits, and beings that celebrated along with them. They travel the sky and bless those who see them with a love strong enough to last through life and death and beyond. You explained before releasing a happy sigh,“That’s how my parents always explained it to me. I loved that story.”

Maul took a second to look at you, his eyes holding only admiration.

“That’s beautiful my love. It reminds me of you.”

“Of me?” You asked, cocking your head in curiosity.

“Of course.” He stated, looking back to the ribbons of light before continuing, “The way you love me, it transcends this galaxy. Your love is that strong. That true. And you show me that every day you stay beside me. Even beside that, like the lights, getting to see you, even just once, is enough to leave one wanting for a lifetime. And getting to see you every day? Your light never dims. You could never dim.”

Maul kept his eyes glued to the lights. He may be married to you, and tonight may be your anniversary, but when those words fell from his mouth, he couldn’t look to you. Embarrassment warmed his face. In all the time you had been together, he still had trouble letting his heart spill from his lips. But when you turned his face towards you with a gentle palm on his hand, he knew that his words were more than welcome.

He saw tears in your eyes, but these weren’t tears of sorrow. No. He could feel your overwhelming gratitude and love and admiration for him crashing into him. He knew you could feel his love as well.

“I love you.” You whispered before pulling him in, and kissing him with your whole heart.

“I love you too,” He breathed between kisses, “I have always loved you. The minute I set eyes on you I needed you to be by my side. My heart begged your name when we met, and since then I have never wanted any other word to fall from my lips. You are the light in this universe. You are every star. Every sun. Every planet. You make my dark soul feel beautiful.”

“It’s because you are beautiful my love.” You cooed, tracing his jaw with your finger, and following his tattoos with your eyes, “You’re calming like the ebbing of waves on a shore. When I hear your voice, it’s a soft lullaby. I remember, when we met, it was your voice that caught my attention. It never seemed to match your reputation. I couldn’t get enough of it, and to this day, I still can’t. WHen I hear you say my name, my world stops and everything is perfect.” You huffed a laugh as your eyes flitted from his jaw to his own eyes.

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to marry you.” Maul whispered to you, although you were alone.

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet you!” You smile at him through a laugh with endearment shining in your eyes.

“You’re the world to me my love. The galaxy.”

“And you’re the galaxy to me.”

Maul kissed you softly before turning his gaze once more to the Northern Lights. He loved you. His wife. His rock. And he would love you through life and beyond. That was a guarantee, and promise he would never, ever break.

Tags!

@justalittlecloud, and @fanficsforheartandsoul !

Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged!

#i really like this one #darth maul x reader #darth maul imagine #darth maul #star wars #i made myself emotional while writing this #i just.....dang I love maul #i hope yall love this too

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notapaladin · 4 years ago

Text

you just gotta let it go (redux)

What makes a sickfic better? More snarky bitching about being sick, of course! Poor, poor Acatl.

Also on AO3.

Original version here

The second day of an illness was the worst.

Granted, the first day had been no garden of roses either. Acatl had gone home at the end of his long working day (two vigils, several hours’ worth of investigations into a nasty murder near the markets, endless accounts to square away) to a hastily-put-together dinner and the comfort of his own mat, but he’d barely lain down for an hour before his guts had begun to cramp and the first swelling of nausea had begun to travel up his throat. He’d thought—hoped—that it would pass. He’d always had a reasonably strong constitution, after all. Perhaps it was merely the heat.

And then he’d started vomiting. Poison had been his first thought, and he’d wiped his mouth and tried to stagger to the door only to faint after a single step. Praise the gods for Ichtaca; the man had heard him groaning as he passed and had leapt into action, sending runners for a healing priest before he could even think about protesting. Not that he’d been doing much thinking by then, honestly—whatever he’d eaten had come back for revenge, and he’d been far too busy trying not to completely disgrace himself.

Or at least trying not to faint. Fatigue had dragged at every limb, threatening to pull him under entirely; he’d collapsed on the floor next to the basin Ichtaca had fetched for him, unable to rise even to his knees as bone-breaking chills had shuddered through him. He’d barely even had the strength to continue throwing up, though his stomach had left him little choice. Dull, twisting pain wormed its way through his guts, and each blink had lasted an eternity. He been so exhausted that he hadn’t wanted to open his eyes again. He might not have if fear hadn’t compelled him, if a cold spike of terror hadn’t whispered if you close your eyes you’ll never open them again, and then where will you be? Do you want so badly for Teomitl to weep for you when you leave him behind?

He’d thought of Teomitl’s smile, Teomitl’s warm words and steady hands, and forced himself to remain conscious. Ichtaca stayed by his side and that helped, but when the man had helped him wipe his mouth—and gods, how humiliating had that been—he’d been sick all over again at the question that hissed through his mind like an arrow. Am I going to die?

He served Mictlantecuhtli with all his heart, but he did not want to meet Him yet. Not with so much left unsaid. The thought that it might be entirely beyond his control had been terrifying; in a brief burst of energy he’d thought of asking Ichtaca to summon Teomitl, but fortunately he’d thrown up again before he could voice it, and that had erased such rank stupidity from his thoughts. It would only make things worse if he survived.

He’d still been retching when the priest of Patecatl had arrived.

At least it wasn’t poison, he’d thought bitterly when he’d gotten the diagnosis. But the sort of illness you got from food that had gone off was downright humiliating, and to make matters worse the only cure was rest and plain meals. Plain. No chili. No other spices. Barely even any salt. If he’d been able to contemplate food without feeling nauseous again, he would have been miserable; as it was, he was waking only to drink water and drag himself to the chamber pot.

Because apparently, even when whatever had been in his guts was now quite comprehensively out of them, it had left its mark behind. He was exhausted. Even his experience with the plague hadn’t left him feeling quite this flattened; each limb felt like the Great Temple had come down on top of it, and he could barely rouse himself from his mat. At least he wasn’t afraid of sleeping anymore. When he spoke, he slurred his words like a base drunkard.

And of course he was forced to speak, because he had visitors.

He was awoken shortly after dawn by the arrival of not one but two more priests of Patecatl. Their cloaks marked them as part of the upper echelons of their temple’s hierarchy, and so he managed not to actually snap at them when they entered. It felt like an achievement just to speak coherently. “Thank you, but I’m feeling much better—”

The older one gave him a stare so full of judgement that he shut his mouth with a pang; it reminded him too much of Ceyaxochitl. “We have to monitor your condition, Acatl-tzin. You are our High Priest for the Dead.”

There were times he truly took pride in being High Priest for the Dead at all hours, whether at a feast or standing by the side of a pyre. This was not one of them. I don’t stop being High Priest for the Dead, no matter how sick I am. He made a face, but grudgingly sat up a little straighter. Or how much I’d rather be left alone.

At least submitting himself to a full examination didn’t require him to do much except be manhandled, and the healing priests were coolly professional and not inclined to make small talk. It still tired him out, and when the younger priest—Cuetzpalli, apparently—began casting a spell to strengthen his stomach, he actually found himself dozing off. The cut-grass smell of Patecatl’s magic was remarkably soothing when you were more than semi-conscious for it.

“Acatl-tzin?”

He blinked awake. Cuetzpalli had stopped chanting and was eyeing him with mild concern as he offered a hand to help him sit up again. He ignored it; he was not so far gone that he couldn’t manage that, even if the motion made his muscles ache. “My apologies. What’s the verdict?”

Cuetzpalli didn’t seem fazed by his curtness. No doubt he’d seen much worse, though he was barely a few years older than Teomitl; healing priests saw people at their very lowest, after all, and an irritated High Priest probably wasn’t even worth noting. “No poison nor magic that we can detect. Your dinner seems to have simply...disagreed with you. You’ll feel...ah, reasonably terrible for a week or so, but you are in no danger.” His face twisted in singularly unhelpful sympathy.

Acatl’s fists clenched in his lap. A week? Duality, I cannot afford to be laid low for that long! Horrible visions of his temple in disarray and the boundaries crumbling like old paper flickered through his mind, and he fought a grimace. No. It would be fine. He would return to his duties tomorrow, suffer through bland food until his guts settled, and everything would be fine. “Hrm.”

“You’ll be alright, young man.” The older priest—Necalli—didn’t smile, but his eyes softened slightly as he looked him over. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He couldn’t make any promises, but he was spared from having to lie; their visit apparently being over, Cuetzpalli was packing up their supplies. Soon they had both left, bowing very politely, and he’d collapsed on his mat again. Some vague twinge in his belly suggested he should attempt food, but even fetching one of the bland flatbreads Ichtaca had left for him seemed like a monumental effort. No, he would just lay here for now until he felt...well, not better, but at least more alert. The angle of the sunlight shifted through his one window, and he watched it blankly.

He slept. He woke, found the ache in his stomach had progressed to actual pangs of hunger, and choked down a few mouthfuls of dry flatbread and a cup of water before his gorge rose in protest and he had to set the rest aside. His stomach had been emptier than this for longer. He’d be alright.

He slept again. Time ceased to have meaning. There was only the sunlight moving across his floor, the humid air laying on his skin like a blanket. He lay like a lizard on his back, gently baking in the heat.

And then the entry curtain jingled. “Acatl?”

Oh, gods. Mihmatini’s voice. Groaning, he heaved himself upright, muscles protesting. “Ngghhh...” At some point he’d closed his eyes, and once again it seemed to take real effort to keep them open. Duality, he hoped the healing priests had been right and it was only an ill-chosen meal, and not something more serious. Last night’s panic had faded, but it was far too easy to bring to mind just how very inevitable—how very immediate—his death had felt. Lord Death, he prayed, do not take me into Your arms yet.

She sounded concerned. He was sick of concern. “We brought soup.”

...We…? The thoughts floating through his head were slow to arrange themselves into a semblance of order, but finally he realized that she wasn’t alone and managed to wedge his eyes open properly. There was Mihmatini, brow furrowed, holding a clay jug in both hands. And beside her, face twisted in worry, was Teomitl. “...Oh.” Oh, no. Not you. He felt vaguely nauseous again, and not just from the effort of sitting up.

She didn’t wait for him to invite her in, or even to rise; he watched, still feeling three steps behind reality, as she set the jug down on his table and went looking for spoons. There was a degree of bustling involved that made him dizzy to think about. “I really can’t believe I had to hear from Ichtaca that you were ill, Acatl, really—do you know how worried I’ve been? Food poisoning is nothing to dismiss!”

“It’s passed.” It had. Mostly. He had decided against making any sudden movements.

“Nobody gets over food poisoning that fast.” That was Teomitl, leaning in the doorway and frowning down at him. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

He frowned back, even as some part of his heart felt unaccountably warmed; Teomitl’s concern might be touching, but by the Duality it wasn’t as though he’d tried to get sick. Besides, he was a grown man. He didn’t need to be fussed over, especially not when it might make him start hoping. “...I take care of myself just fine.”

Teomitl turned his face away, glowering at the wall as though it had insulted his honor. Acatl knew by the face he made that he was probably chewing on the inside of his lip plug again; he wondered, not for the first time, if Teomitl had ever realized he only did that when he was agitated. He hoped he didn’t. It was oddly endearing, and he’d miss the sight. “What did the healing priests say?”

He grimaced at the reminder. “Very plain fare. And sleep.”

Mihmatini uncovered the jug, and the odor of plain, hot, and—suddenly most important for his stomach, which growled loudly enough that he blushed—salty turkey broth met his nostrils. “Do you think you could keep this down?”

For his sister, he’d try. Slowly, he nodded. “...Thank you.”

He hadn’t expected them to linger, but—evidently realizing that he absolutely wouldn’t be able to finish all of the soup by himself—they took their own seats at his table. It was pleasant not to eat alone in his own house for once. Teomitl was uncharacteristically quiet and kept glancing at Acatl out of the corner of his eye; before he thought of commenting on it, Mihmatini spoke up. “How is it?”

He looked down at his bowl and realized with a start that he’d nearly finished it. Each lift of the spoon to his mouth had been like trying to move a boulder, but he’d clearly been hungrier than he thought. He briefly had to struggle to remember how to speak; even the muscles in his tongue felt tired. A blink lasted longer than he liked. “...It’s good. Did you make it?”

Mihmatini snorted, shaking her head. “From the palace kitchens. I’m not this good a cook.”

Teomitl huffed, “You’re a wonderful cook.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And you are a shameless flatterer.”

“I am being perfectly truthful—tell her, Acatl!”

Acatl blinked again, discreetly pinching himself to stay awake. Passing out in his soup bowl wouldn’t convince his family he was hale. True, Mihmatini was a skilled cook—but it was equally true that no priest of Patecatl would prescribe her food for him. It had entirely too much flavor, and the way she made soup would put meat back on the bones of a corpse. “...He’s right. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’m in no state to appreciate it at the moment.”

She looked supremely unimpressed. He could actually see the moment she swallowed a sharp retort and picked up her spoon again. “I can see that. You look awful.”

He had to admit she had a point; he felt awful. Eating had helped briefly, but as soon as it settled in his stomach he had to battle another spike of nausea. If he stopped leaning on the table, he had a feeling he’d fall over. “Thanks.”

Mihmatini sighed, pushing her now-empty bowl away. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get back to the Duality House.”

“Guardian lessons?”

She made a face. Acatl couldn’t blame her; she hadn’t told him much of what her unexpected ascension to Guardianship had entailed, but what little she’d let slip suggested it was unpleasant. If nothing else, she was having to learn in weeks what took most women years. He did not envy her. “Guardian lessons.”

Teomitl reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and for a moment Acatl was concerned. Had they had a fight at some point? But then she smiled, warm as always. “You’d better. Remember what we were talking about earlier.”

Teomitl swallowed hard and nodded. “Mm.”

And then she rose gracefully, favoring Acatl with that same narrow-eyed assessing look. “And as for you, you’d better take it easy. Ichtaca told us you collapsed a few times last night.”

It wasn’t like he’d made a habit out of it. Besides, the floor had been comfortable even with that nagging, irrational concern that he might fail to wake up. On a full stomach and with something approximating sleep under his belt, that fear felt ridiculous now. He glared back at her. “I’m not that sick. I’ve no intention of fainting on anyone.”

“Don’t worry.” Teomitl smiled, and the brief flash of radiant warmth made Acatl’s face heat. “I won’t let you.”

She sniffed, unswayed. “Hm. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

And then Mihmatini left, and they were alone. Acatl found, suddenly, that he couldn’t quite manage to look Teomitl in the face. The gods knew Teomitl had seen him injured before—had taken care of him, even, and Acatl knew he’d never forget confident hands bandaging his wounds or strong arms helping him to safety—but battle wounds were an acceptable form of weakness, one that struck down even the greatest warriors. It was entirely different to be ill and run-down in front of Teomitl, who valued strength so highly; a man who thought limits were for the weak surely couldn’t still respect him when he could barely muster the energy to stand. In a moment. In a moment I’ll get up and clear the table. I don’t need a—a nursemaid, Tlaloc’s lightning strike me. He just needed to brace himself and move slowly.

Teomitl beat him to it. He was already on his feet and clearing away the remnants of their meal when Acatl set a hand on the table to heave himself up; when he caught sight of the movement, he shot him a savage glare. “Stay still. I’ll handle it.”

He could force himself to his feet; he’d worked in worse conditions and through much greater pain. Nothing would ever be as bad as the plague had been. But somehow, it didn’t really seem worth it to argue. So he stayed where he was and prayed for patience, staring at the knotted pine grain of the table. It needed a wash. “...So you’re to keep me company, then?”

Teomitl turned to look over his shoulder at him, eyes dark and serious. “Someone should.”

He took a slow breath. Even through his exhaustion, the reminder of his state—that Teomitl looked at him and thought he shouldn’t even be left alone—stung bitterly. Even though he could be weak, came the treacherous thought. Even though Teomitl would let him. Would help him lay down, put his arms around him...no. He shook his head firmly, banishing those thoughts before they could make him remember what had come to him in the dead of last night’s pain. It was still hopeless, and he would not plead his way into Teomitl’s heart. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

“I know you aren’t.” And then Teomitl smiled, teasingly innocent, and Acatl’s heart skipped a beat even as he continued, “But isn’t it the job of the student to tend to his master’s needs?”

His eyes narrowed. Irritation was starting to revitalize him; in some small part of his mind, he suspected this was Teomitl’s plan. “...And you aren’t my student anymore.” He hasn’t been since...the courtyard? No, before that. It just took me too long to see it. He is my friend, my brother-in-law, and one day he’ll be my Revered Speaker. But he’s not my student, and he shouldn’t have to take care of me even if he was.

The table clean, Teomitl sat down by him within arm’s reach but not touching. Acatl found himself glad for that; he wasn’t sure if he was alert enough not to give in to the absurd urge to lean against him. His former student’s shoulders looked appealingly solid. “And we’re all glad for that. But that doesn’t change the fact that you could use some company, if only for a distraction. I’m good at that.” A smile still tugged at the corners of his lips, warm eyes looking Acatl over. “Please?”

Oh, no. Not the please. It struck him harder than a physical blow, and he had to look away. Duality preserve him, he’d been right. Teomitl would let him be weak. And he’d thought his feelings would fade? That he’d be able to bury them forever? Gods, he was such a fool. It was a terrible time to be proven wrong. I should be stronger than this. “...I won’t...” He yawned, suddenly almost too tired to make his tongue work. The soup had only been a temporary boost after all. “I’m sorry. I won’t be a very good host.”

“...That’s alright.” Teomitl was gazing at him with fond exasperation, and he couldn’t bear it. “Rest, Acatl. I’ll be here when you wake.”

He couldn’t let that pass without comment, no matter how much that same small, treacherous part of him was warmed by the thought of companionship. “You have a job. Your own duties...”

Now Teomitl did reach over, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. It warmed him to his bones. “Over for the day. Lay down.”

He couldn’t do anything but obey. Even the simple act of sitting up and eating had wrung him out like a damp rag; he could have passed out on a bed of obsidian shards. His thin mat was a miracle in comparison, and he managed to keep his eyes open just long enough to watch as Teomitl settled down on his haunches and swept him with a slow, considering look. The thought that slid through his mind like a snake—gods, you could kiss me if you wanted—still wasn’t a match for the tides of dreamless sleep pulling him under.

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Teomitl’s back. It was, he thought idly, a very nice back; Teomitl had shed his cloak for the sake of the heat, and so Acatl had an excellent view of the line of his waist and the curve of his spine. There were no scars upon it, for he would never be one to willingly turn his back on a foe. The knowledge lifted his heart with a kind of soft pride. My fearless man. You who will lead Tenochtitlan to glory. I cannot wait to see what kind of Emperor you’ll make.

Then Teomitl stretched, back arching, and the affection curling gently through him sparked into something hotter and darker. Gods, he’d almost forgotten. He could go days now without thinking about the warmth of Teomitl’s voice or the strength of his hands, but here he was being viscerally reminded that they couldn’t be ignored forever. That the feelings which had sustained him through many long nights wouldn’t melt with the dawn. That not even what he’d thought with sharp terror would be his actual death could successfully smother them. Duality curse me.

He must have made a noise, because Teomitl turned to look at him. “Acatl? Ah, you’re awake. Do you need anything?”

His mouth had gone dry at some point. Swallowing didn’t help. “...Water.” If nothing else, it would be cold. He could use the cold.

Teomitl rose to fetch water, and he busied himself with trying to sit up. It took a few attempts as his heavy limbs fought his control, but by the time Teomitl returned he’d managed the disgustingly difficult task of rolling over. Teomitl’s hand between his shoulderblades steadied him as he heaved himself up the rest of the way, and for a long moment he drank in silence. His stomach felt better, but his heart didn’t.

It wasn’t until Teomitl took his hand away and sat down next to him that he found words. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Teomitl jerked away, glaring at him; for all that he’d only spoken the truth, Acatl still felt himself flush as he snapped, “Did you think I would leave you alone?!”

“It must be late.” It was. The afternoon sun had turned dim and gold, sinking into Teomitl’s skin and hair. Sunset couldn’t be far behind, and he would be well enough to properly offer blood to the gods again. There was no need for Teomitl to watch over him like a mother jaguar with cubs. But he wants to, because he cares about you, whispered his mind, and he took another sip of water to cool the heat of his skin.

“I don’t care.” Duality, and he growled like a jaguar, too. Though he huffily turned his face away, Acatl saw his hand twitch; it was all the warning he got before it came down to rest atop his own free one. “You stayed with me when I was ill, and that was contagious. Do you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?”

He couldn’t think. Teomitl’s hand was on his, callused and warm, and he was fairly sure all sensation in his body had been rerouted to that single point of contact. He was surprised he hadn’t dropped the cup, and managed to set it down before he could. “I...uh.” He was unconscious, deep in his delirium. I didn’t think he’d remember. Gods, I was so afraid he’d never even wake. But he did...and…

It seemed to take an eternity for him to dredge up a full sentence from the mire of his thoughts. “You don’t...have to...”

Teomitl’s voice held nothing but certainty. He might as well have been making a royal proclamation. “Yes. I do.”

“...Oh.” It seemed to be all he could say. There was more locked behind his teeth—you are the best of men, I don’t deserve you, you’re a reckless fool sometimes but that’s alright because you still hold my whole heart safe in your hands—but he didn’t dare open his mouth and let it fly out. If he started down that road, he’d never stop. And Lord Death had not seen fit to take him into His embrace last night, so a sudden and fatal relapse wouldn’t save him either.

For a long while, Teomitl was silent. Though he sat as still as a statue, the fingers covering Acatl’s own twitched as though he wanted to curl them around his hand. Finally, still without looking at him, he spoke. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I learned how sick you were?”

“I was not that sick—” he began.

Teomitl didn’t let him finish. “Yes. You were. Ichtaca was shaking when he told us you were finally keeping down liquids.”

He dropped his gaze to his lap. Mired as he’d been in his own terror, Ichtaca had felt like a rock beside him. He’d had no idea the man had been frightened too. “...Oh.”

“Oh,” Teomitl mimicked, a spark of nastiness in his voice that faded almost instantly to that tight, flat restraint. “You terrified us, Acatl. You terrified me.”

Storm Lord’s lightning blast him. He couldn’t even attempt a reassuring smile, for Teomitl’s words struck him to the core. Still, he mustered up the energy somewhere to make an effort. “I’ve felt worse than this and lived. You needn’t have worried.”

Teomitl swiveled around to glare at him, eyes hot and suspiciously bright. “Don’t say that! Don’t you know how important you are to me?”

“Ngkh.” He knew he was blushing again, but he couldn’t have torn his eyes from Teomitl’s face if his life had depended on it. It was one thing to be pretty sure Teomitl cared about him, but another thing entirely to hear it confirmed. “I...” I am High Priest for the Dead. His teacher. His friend. That’s all he means. “But...”

“No buts.” Teomitl shook his head, squeezing his hand tightly. There was a terrible tremor in his voice. “You have to take care of yourself, Acatl. Understand? I don’t...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I can’t lose you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, and for a dizzying moment he thought he was going to faint again. “I know how you feel.”

“..Do you?” The bite of skepticism couldn’t quite hide that moment of hopeful hesitation.

He inhaled. “...Last night...” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t. But Teomitl wasn’t saying anything; he was giving him the space to find his words. That made the difference, in the end. “Last night...I thought I was going to die.” He still wondered idly at the possibility, but it no longer filled him with heart-clenching fear. There was only one thing he would have regretted, after all. Now Teomitl was staring at him in horror, but he made himself press on. “And I thought of you.”

Teomitl’s eyes were wide, his fingers trembling. Now Acatl knew the expression on his face, that stunned sort of hope that didn’t quite dare to step into the sunlight yet. “Me?”

He nodded. Yes, you. Always you. “I thought—if I died here, I would never get to tell you that I—” But courage failed him, and he swallowed with a dry click.

Teomitl was still staring at him. Unfortunately, this didn’t let him off the hook. “That you what?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. It was a coward’s move, but then he had always been one, hadn’t he? Or else it wouldn’t have taken the fear of death to force the words out. “I love you,” he blurted out, and when Teomitl didn’t immediately react in rage or disgust he added, “I wanted to be sure you knew.” Even if you don’t love me back in the same way. Even if you’re about to break my heart, I’m giving it to you to break.

He heard a slow, deep breath. A shaky whisper of “Acatl,” more shock than outrage.

And then Teomitl kissed him.

His mind went entirely blank. There was only the soft pressure of warm lips on his, slow and careful and gods, so gentle. He had no idea what he was doing, but Teomitl clearly did; he tilted his head just so, parted his lips just a fraction, and Acatl was lost. Gods, he thought dizzily, I love you so much. Teomitl slid strong arms around his waist, and for a moment he thought that hold was the only thing keeping him upright. He wondered if it was possible to swoon just from a single kiss. Well, he was still ill. It might be.

When Teomitl pulled away, his eyes were shining. “I can hardly believe...Duality, Acatl.” He gave a little shake of his head, as though to express the utter impossibility of their situation. A wry little disbelieving smile tugged at his lips. “I was halfway to convincing myself to give up.”

Acatl blinked at him as the words rearranged themselves into something that made sense. His brain clearly wasn’t up to its full capacity yet, because Teomitl couldn’t have said what he thought he said. “You what?!”

Now it was Teomitl’s turn to blush. “I have wanted you for—gods, for years. I knew it was hopeless, but when I thought I would lose you...”

Things clicked slowly into place in Acatl’s mind. Passing glances, lingering touches, a hitched breath. Years, he said. Years. “...Does Mihmatini know?” He remembered her hard-eyed stare, the way Teomitl had looked almost nervous at whatever she’d said, and ice gripped his heart again. He wouldn’t be the cause of strife between them, no matter how much Teomitl made his heart race. He wouldn’t do that to her.

Teomitl drew himself up, glaring at him. He was still flushed, but Acatl judged it more embarrassment than guilt. “She does. Do you think I’d go behind her back, especially after the last time?” He didn’t have to elaborate. Things between him and Mihmatini had been so frosty for a few weeks that she’d practically spat when mentioning his name. Acatl wasn’t sure how they’d reconciled, but he was starting to get a few, somewhat embarrassing, ideas.

The ice was starting to thaw. He took one deep breath, and then another. If she knows, then... “Then...what she mentioned, about you two having spoken earlier...”

“You know how she is. She...suggested I consider the possibility of mentioning my feelings a while ago.” Knowing Mihmatini, suggested was probably far too polite a word. Teomitl quirked up a smile and added, “But I wasn’t expecting you to beat me to it.”

He found it much easier to breathe when he knew he wasn’t ruining his sister’s marriage. “After last night...I had to let you know. In case fate saw fit to separate us. I didn’t want to die without telling you how I feel.”

Teomitl’s gaze had softened like melted wax, and it was just about as hot. “Maybe you should tell me again.”

His heart kicked within his chest. Feeling suddenly bold—he’d come this far, after all—he shot back, “Why don’t I just show you?” Even raising the possibility of what such a demonstration might entail made him blush all over again, but...well. Teomitl deserved to know the full truth of his feelings, and honesty had already brought him great rewards. I took vows of chastity, of celibacy. I would break them all for you if you asked. Gods, I would break them all if I thought you might ask.

For a moment, Teomitl simply stared at him—face flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes heated—and Acatl knew he was going to be kissed again. Knew it and welcomed it, lingering illness be damned. He would figure out a way to be kissed by Teomitl if he were dead.

And then he grinned teasingly and murmured, “Then you’d best focus your energies on getting well again, hadn’t you?” and Acatl had to stifle an urge to groan.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #mihmatini #paladin writes stuff

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inkperch · 4 years ago

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V8E13 Thoughts- Just OUCH.

Ok, so, this one is me live tweeting my second watching, cause there is no way in FUCKING HELL Im being coherant otherwise HOLY CRAP.

Jaune’s motion sickness coming up again is fun. The evacuation plan is pretty smart tbh. Ren’s fuCKING SMILE- if I didn’t ship Renora b4 this, I’d ship it now. Also, Nora can ride her hammer like a broom now, and its so casual Im genuinely trying to remeber if Im just being dumb and she could always do that? The subway scene is f-ing hilarious, but I can’t help but feel like they were intentionally being more cartoon-y than usual cause of the shit that happens later.

Everyones wonder at the portals is just *chefs kiss*. Especially May’s ‘figured you wouldn’t let us down!’- shes awesome, strong contender in the ‘probably only here for one arc+cameos’ best girl contest. Ilia’s still winning, but May’s a strong 2nd place. Really don’t like how fast Ruby gets back to mission mode tho- girl, let yourself appreciate the pretty golden bridges ffs, you definitely don’t by the end of the episode.

And I love how the biggest problem was something they just... couldn’t predict. The sandstorm wasn’t a fault in their plan, it wasn’t a villainous scheme, it just happened.

I swear Cinder’s the animation teams favourite, her expressions are always 100% spot on. And RWBY squaring up, altogether again, is badass.

And just- the way she’s still super shaken? But comes up with a perfect plan regardless? Wow. Like- she took exactly what needed taking from Watt’s speech, how to get Neo back on board and, as we see later, exactly what to tell Watts to get him on her side. V1-3 Cinder’s back guys, and she’s more dangerous than ever.

And Jinn’s moment of hesitation before answering Cinder is great- Jinn may be a solid True Neutral, but she still doesn’t particularly want to doom Ruby’s plan. She knew exactly what answering the question would lead to, after all.

Actually- Hey, Jinn seems to get linked to Ruby like, a lot. Obviously Ruby was the first person we saw ask her a question and, while Yang got them the lamp, Ruby was the one carrying it all the way to Atlas pretty much. And then theres the big, obvious one- when the Spirit of Knowledge admits your clever, your clever. Food for thought.

Cinder’s troubled response to seeing Emerald- seriously, animation team popped off this season. And the fucking SOUNDTRACK DISSONANCE! It sounds like something out of a ballet, and then we’re shown them casually enter a room full of people and seal the door- then cut to a room full of corpses. Without so much as a blip in the happy, airy music. Cause really what’s changed? Everything’s coming up Cinder! (also, Neo beating a survivor around the head got a guilty laugh, I’ll admit.)

The #1 Dud mug hit different.

And Robyn’s spitting facts. Marrow is the best, wasn’t sold on him, then he went and did this. Also, FUCK HARRIET. Saving her own ass so she can go doom Mantle. Didn’t even fuckin TRY to wait for Wacky Tube Man and Adult Nora. And Robyn’s face- ok, fine, I’ll shut up about the animation team. No I won’t, but I’m running out of creative ways to say they’re awesome.

Also, fuck Jaques! I was fucking CACKLING when Ironwood shot him! Just- fuckign hell, I know it shows just how far he’s fallen, willing to execute a prisoner who, even in the case of escape is harmless now, but also, it’s Jaques, the guy’s a fucking hate sink for a reason, best choice Ironwood’s made all season! I guess it’s pretty clear he’s dead now huh?

Also- Cinder keeping the attention off of Neo- like, I only noticed it here but holy crap, Cinder isn’t lying in her speech- this is great teamwork, and it’s the kind of teamwork Cinder excels at- she makes some form of spectacle that furthers her goals, then uses it as a distraction for an even bigger part of her goals- we first saw it at Beacon. Like I said, Cinder’s back~ rip any redemption arc tho, she’s just better at being worse- it’s actually a really, really good villain arc, without becoming a redemption arc and I love it.

And then, Yang’s sacrifice- ok, like the Penny one I’d had this mildly spoiled for me. Unlike the Penny one, I had 0 hope of her getting out of this intact. Because as soon as there was that black screen, I knew Yang was fucked- cause, remember what other scene we saw shot like this? Close up of Yang’s face, then she activates her semblance and throws herself forward? All because someone she loves is in danger? Yeah, I was having big V3 flashbacks at this point, so I knew Yang wasn’t gonna be ok.

Also, something I didn’t notice until rewatch, but the reason Blakes the only one fast enough to react is cause Ruby’s on the floor. Kinda neat attention to detail. First watch I just joked to myself her reaction times shit.

And Blake just missing- wow. Fucking OUCH. She’s probably having V3 thoughts too. And just generally the way this is framed- just fucking OUCH. The heartbeat sound, the black frames, the slowmow- just OUCH. Speaking of OUCH, that ‘YAAAANG!’. Like. Excellent voice acting (and animation, again, seriously wow.) And the FUCKING ECHO! Just- OUCH. That’s just a summary of this whole scene, just fucking OUCH.

Also, as we learn later, if Yang had fallen a second later, Penny would’ve been through the portal before she could react. Think about that for a second- Penny would’ve gone through the portal, guilty about leaving her friends behind to fight, only to her a heartbroken cry of ‘Yang!’ literally as she stepped through- only to realise she can’t go back.

Also, RUBY IS NOT OK. GIVE RUBY A FUCKING HUG. HER SISTER JUST DIED AND BEFORE SHE CAN PROCESS THAT, SHE HAS TO FIGHT FOR HER FUCKING LIFE AGAINST THE PERSON YANG JUST DIED TO SAVE HER FROM. Seriously, give Ruby a fucking break holy shit. That quiet ‘Yang?’ and then she is immediately back in mission mode? O U C H.

Also, Neo is smiling in that fight, wow, holy shit- wait, theres the other V3 scene this gave me Deja Vu to, it’s the fucking Roman fight! Neo just did to Ruby what Ruby did to Neo, but flipped- she ‘ring out’ed Yang to her death, when Ruby ‘ring out’ed Neo and then ‘killed’ Torchwick. Wow, holy crap.

And, again, ANIMATION TEAM OUCH. Seriosly, why are they so good at animating sobbing? Also, cute detail with Weiss holding Blake back. Don’t know why I’m calling it cute, nothing here is cute, holy shit, this episode is ouch. And the fucking anger, it’s so well animated holy fuck. And Neo refusing to even fight Blake, cause Ruby’s her target- yeah, that’s gonna fuck both them up. I am not looking forward to the end of these fight scenes- and seriously? Was this what Yang having her back turned in the OP was foreshadowing???

Weiss vs Cinder is awesome- Weiss has been on good form when it comes to winning fights again this season. Helps that, other than the ones who can fly, she’s in the best position to fight here what with her glyphs and all.

Penny trying to draw her swords and not got a laugh out of me, I’ll admit. To be fair, I was laughing at anything and everything at that point, cause they just fuckin killed Yang. Also, Rip Penny’s feet, imagine the friction burns? Like, ignoring how shes running around barefoot rn, i m a g i n e the friction burns from getting thrown like that with no shoes. Whole different kind of ouch.

And, Ok, so, are Penny’s swords made of rocks? Because they don’t look particularly rock-y. They look like something out of TRON tbh, don’t really seem Maiden-y to me.

Weiss protecting everyone with her sword is badass. Blake being forced to chose between protecting everyone, and murdering Neo is heartbreaking just-

This fuckING FRAME!

Also, yeah, FUCK HARRIET. Also, Robyn ramming them had me fucking cackling so hard- just, like, Wacky arms guy almost, almost talked some sense into her (Not really, or she wouldn’t go back on it so quickly, but almost), meanwhile in the other jet, Robyn ain’t letting anyone kill her people. Especially not mid-evacuation, that’s just a dick move. FUCK HARRIET. And like... was Harriet into Clover? I’m reading that right, right? Cause like... that’s some yikesy foreshadowing on the back of YANG GETTING KILLED OFF.

But also, still, FUCK HARRIET. Qrow throwing himself through the windshield was 10/10, would fight intro again. And Arthur finished his apple before hyjacking the bomb.

And then, the Winter scene. Is Ironwood just in a Schnee- killing mood? Ironwood’s speech is... honestly, heart-breaking. He is the definition of a fallen hero. If he wasn’t blinded by paranoia and driven to rely on no-one but himself and a very select few, would he still have come believe he was the only one who anyone could trust? Because that’s, ultimately, what has brought him here- he doesn’t think he can trust anyone but himself, and so, he must be the only one who can save Atlas, right?

And Winter’s FUCKING RESPONSE- ‘I’ve never wavered in fighting the enemies of this kingdom... and I won’t start now.’ No emotion, no hesitation, no anything. Just resolve. Made even more badass by how clearly pained she is- and like, I don’t mean emotionally, that’s cool too, I mean that she’s physically in pain, but still won’t even hesitate to fight the guy who took a whole team to fight in a sneak attack last episode. And Ironwood’s response... I really can’t praise the animation team enough.

And then there’s the other side of the portal- Ren is MVP ngl, that’s a stupid amount of people he sheilded for a stupid amount of time, all on his own.

Ok, so, next week’s big fights. RWBP vs Cinder and Neo inside the bridge world, Qrow vs Harriet, with plane assists from Robyn and who the fuck knows from Wacky arms man in the atlas/mantle set for the last time probably. Winter vs Ironwood. And Oscar, Emerald and a half-dead Ren vs a massive, massive crowd of Grimm all while doing an escort mission.

...I’m not going on Youtube for a week.

#rwby #rwby volume 8 #rwby volume 8 episode 13 #reaction #O U C H #just o u c h #no witty tags head empty

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shadowed-dancer · 5 years ago

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Quirk Questions

Inspired by this video, and its continuations. For some semblance of coherency, I split it up by similarities. These are all hypothetical and for fun btw.

... I think I think too much.

Quirk Destroying Drug/Aizawa’s Erasure

If someone with a physical mutation gets hit with the quirk destroying drug, what happens? Like Ojiro’s entire quirk is his tail, would he just lose the ability to move it? Or would it physically disappear? And would it make a difference whether or not it was a passive mutation vs the entire quirk revolving around it? When Tamaki got hit, his ears didn’t revert back to normal, but is this because it was a passive mutation that had nothing to do with his powers?

And what if Hagakure got hit with the quirk erasing drug? Her quirk is invisibility, so would she become visible?

If Mineta got hit with the quirk destroying drug, what happens to the things on his head? Are they just permanently stuck there?

Let’s pretend Twice made a clone of Dabi, and then Twice got hit with the quirk destroying drug. What happens to the Dabi clone? Does it remain in existence until it’s destroyed? Or does it fall apart as soon as Twice gets hit.

On the same note, what if Aizawa uses his quirk against Twice while a Dabi clone is running around. Does the clone remain, or fall apart? We see that when Aizawa uses his quirk against Momo, the things she had previously created don’t disappear. Same with Todoroki and his ice, it doesn’t just vanish the moment he loses his quirk, it remains in the world. So does that apply to clones?

Let’s pretend Monoma copied Aizawa’s quirk. If Monoma erases Todoroki’s quirk, but Aizawa then erases Monoma’s, does Todoroki get his power back? I would think so.

Copying Other Quirks

If Tamaki eats the hair of someone with a quirk, can he manifest that quirk? We’ve seen him pick and choose specific attributes to create, like the toxins of an octopus, and we’ve also seen him manifest the byproduct of a quirk when he ate those crystals. So if he ate Aizawa’s hair, could he summon the ability to erase quirks? Or if he ate Todoroki’s hair, could he create flames and ice? What if he ate Kirishima’s hair, would he be able to Harden his own body? And what if he ate the hair of a mutation type quirk?

If Monoma copied a mutation quirk, what would happen? In the manga he mentions “drawing a blank” so are there certain quirks he can’t copy? I’d assume mutation quirks are one of them.

Could Momo copy Midnight’s quirk? Like, if she studied the mist that Midnight releases, could she create it too? And if she could, would she (Momo) be immune? Or would she fall asleep? And would Midnight be immune to Momo’s mist?

(I use Midnight in this example because I think Momo could theoretically make things like ice and tape to rip off other quirks, but I don’t think she’d be able to control them like their actual users. But Midnight’s is very simple and requires no control)

Hagakure’s Invisibility

If Twice makes a clone of Hagakure, the clone would probably be invisible, right? So if it’s destroyed, would it turn into visible mud?

If Himiko transforms into Hagakure, would she be invisible? We see that, when her disguise is broken, it turns into some sort of grey goop, so how would that account for invisibility? Or would she become a visible version of Hagukure?

If All For One stole Hagakure’s invisibility, I assume she would turn visible (we see in the manga that he can take away mutation quirks). But if he then gave the invisibility to himself, would he ALWAYS be invisible? Or would he be able to turn it on and off and summon it when he wants?

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha quirks #quirk questions #aizawa shouta #bnha aizawa #bnha hagakure #hagakure tooru #bnha twice #toga himiko #bnha monoma #all for one

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cryoculus · 5 years ago

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More love for Semi please? Anything will do, your writing is exquisite in any form anyway :D

» Word Count: 1,857 wordsCross-posted on AO3

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE :(( I actually wrote three chapters’ worth of content for him already and you can read the whole thing on the ao3 link.(NOTE: This is based on the current events of the final arc of the Haikyuu manga. I tagged it as a spoiler but I won’t really go into the specifics of what’s going on. Semi is our main focus here ^__^)

—

“Please?”

“No,” was your flat reply.

Semi heaved a long sigh, mouth twitching into an irritated grimace. You returned his reaction with a sassy look of your own—one, finely penciled brow quirked as bright, red lips rivalled the adamance that Semi brought about. While you were in no position to tell him to just go back to his cubicle and get today’s work done (you, sadly, held the same position in office), you at least had the right to turn him down. Your department had a monthly financial report coming up. Why on Earth did he want your help writing a song?

“Come on,” he groaned. “You know I’d eat my fist first before asking for your help, but our manager really digs your old pieces from college.”

Your eye twitched.

“Way to beg for someone’s aid in a time of dire need,” you bit back sarcastically. “Go do it then.”

“What?”

“Eat your whole fist.” You gave him a pointed look, even making a show of paying attention by putting your pen down.

Your co-worker let out a frustrated groan, fingers carding through his messy, ashen hair. The gesture made the tattoos on his chest visible for a second, before disappearing again behind his barely done button-up. It was a mystery, how a man like him made it as a public servant—with his flamboyant piercings and tip-dyed hair—but you supposed you should learn to look past physical appearances. The agency allowed it, so why should you make a fuss?

Ah, right. Semi Eita was the most hot-headed man in your department, and he had a knack for picking fights with you.

“If you get the balance sheet done by five o'clock, I might reconsider,” you told him, not really meaning the words, as you directed your attention back at the paperwork on your desk. Balance sheets are the toughest to fill out, since the data needed had to be collated from different sectors of the city. You highly doubted that Semi, with his thinner-than-a-strand-of-hair patience, could finish it in one sitting.

“Deal.”

Your gaze hardened as you looked back up at him. “Come again?”

“Are you deaf?” he asked, folding lean arms across his chest. “I said it’s a deal.”

You couldn’t help the snort that made its way past your lips. Whatever his reasons may be, it was painfully obvious that he was desperate. But still. You knew that he wouldn’t be able to carry out the deed in your given deadline, but instead of talking him out of his own agreement, you merely shook your head in acceptance.

Semi eventually stalked off to his cubicle; the one just in front of yours. There was a divider that separated each employee’s workspace from the others, and it at least granted some semblance of privacy from outside gazes. You’ve been to Semi’s cubicle a couple of times—more to coordinate paperwork than engage in conversation, really—and he decorated his personal space exactly how a part-time rock band vocalist would. Though he didn’t exactly put up posters and painted the walls black, he added his own flair to his desk with guitar figurines, neon stickers on his desktop, and a photo of his bandmates enclosed in a sparkly picture frame.

The only reason you bothered looking so closely was the fact that you also went to the same university together (under the same degree, too!) You’ve always been keen around him, with his loud way of living, as opposed to you, who’s always chosen to live simply and without pretentiousness. Sure, the disparity between your lifestyles had caused you to be at each other’s throats since freshman year, but it was still a surprise that your synergy was top notch. You would, as Semi put it so delicately, eat your fist first before admitting to the fact, but it’s a given that you preferred to work with him instead of other, unfamiliar people.

You sighed, brandishing a bored look at the bleak document in front of you. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to help him out…

But when you recalled every time he’s talked over you during board meetings, sneered at you when he got a higher score during exams, and his distateful behavior in general, you steeled your resolve.

Either he’s going to get that balance sheet over with or he’ll keel over. If he wanted your help, he’s going to have to work for it.

—

You were in the middle of fixing your belongings when the sound of a stack of papers hitting your desk rang in your ears.

“There,” Semi said breathlessly, making you look up at him in surprise. He even tossed a flash drive on top of the papers he deposited, where you saw the city hall’s heading printed in full color. You reluctantly checked your phone for the time. 16:57, it said, in a mockingly bold typeface before shoving it in your pocket.

The damn guy really did get it done before five.

“The electronic document is saved in there, in case you lose the print.” He was panting at this point, and you had a vague idea as to why he looked like he just ran a marathon. The one printer in your department (this year’s budget was cut) broke down a few days ago, and the nearest functional one was at the Logistics office three floors down.

Still refusing to believe it, you peered at the documents he just brought in. You scanned each of the entries printed on each page. That’s when you realized that Sendai City’s expenses have skyrocketed since the new year because the list of expenses occupied a whole page alone. A worried sigh made its way past your lips, but at least the liabilities were cut down to a minimum. You heard that the governor of Miyagi was going to pledge a few hundred thousand yen for the city’s founding anniversary, too.

You paused. Blinking, you rearranged the papers neatly back into its pile—biting back the urge to clutch your wounded pride. Semi was looking at you expectantly, like he wanted you to praise his flawless bookkeeping.

In actuality, his determination was beginning to freak you out.

“Why do you want me to help you so badly?” you asked, voice almost trembling. “Seriously, dude. I thought we hated each other. Quit acting out of character.”

“I told you, our manager really liked the songs you composed back in senior year,” he drawled, tired of having to repeat himself.

Your face twisted in confusion. “Who even is this manager of yours?”

There was a half-second delay in his response, but before you could paint a reason for his hesitation, he immediately replied with, “Saito. Saito Makoto.”

You stiffened, gaze going rigid at the mention of that name. “Oh.”

“Yeah. If I manage to give him a piece by the end of the month, he’ll help us sign a contract with a big-shot record label,” Semi explained, oblivious to your discomfort.

“But haven’t you been writing songs since high school?” you wondered aloud. “That’s what you said during our Pol-Gov class ice breaker.”

He frowned. “You still remember that?”

Okay. You kept forgetting that your sharp memory wasn’t always a praiseworthy thing. You gulped, feeling the heat creep up your face. “Um, anyway, the point still stands. You’ve been writing songs for God-knows-how-long, and while I’m not one to dish out compliments especially to you, I’m pretty sure they’re okay if you managed to gather a decent fanbase.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning against the divider of your cubicle. “We’re a rock band. I write rock songs, but Saito wants me to write a goddamn love song.”

Typical Saito. Though he looked like a rugged high school delinquent, he was awfully sentimental when it came to music. He was the one who inspired you to write the songs Semi was pestering you about all day after all…

“Fine,” you relented. “I never go back on my word and since you did a…good job with this, I’ll help you out.”

His light brown eyes lit up for a moment, but Semi managed to mask his relief in a split second—containing his excitement in a single nod. “Are you free this Saturday? You can come by my place and we could start getting to work.”

Well, that was forward of him. You expected to work on the song in a coffee shop or something, but he went on ahead and invited you to his own humble abode anyway. You parsed through your weekend plans in your mind, and once you confirmed that you were free, you scribbled down your phone number on a sticky note. Almost five years of acquaintance and you’d never bothered giving it to him. Huh.

“Just text me the time and place,” you told him, pocketing the flash drive as you slipped the balance sheet in one of the empty folders in your organizer. “You better not pull anything funny and lead me to a secluded alley or something.”

Semi scoffed, folding the piece of paper and sticking it inside his trousers. “As if.”

You then slung your bag across your shoulders, grinning insincerely. “Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

With that, Semi exited your cubicle, leaving you no room to wonder why he didn’t even spare a quick ‘thank you’.

Just as you were smoothing out the creases on your pencil skirt, your phone began buzzing in the pocket of your blazer. Brows raised, you fished it out and unlocked it.

From: Makohey, wanna grab some dinner? its on me :3

Speak of the devil. You swallowed the lump in your throat, fingers shakily managing to type a coherent reply.

To: MakoYeah sure. Where to tho

From: Makocan we get some italian? ik u love the udon place across the street but akane’s having dinner w her friends there

From: Makocant have her seeing us together now do we

The way he put that so casually made your chest constrict with a too-familiar sensation. You heaved a deep breath, pursing your lips into a thin line as you sent a quick “Ok” text to end your conversation. Saito replied with those iffy heart-eyed emojis that he only ever used when he wanted something from you, and you had to compose yourself so you wouldn’t burst into tears right there.

“Oi.”

You almost jumped at the sound of Semi’s voice as he peered inside your cubicle once more. He clutched his suitcase in one hand, eyeing you curiously.

“What do you want?”

“You’re headed uptown, too, right?” he asked, and you nodded reluctantly. “Thought you’d want a lift.”

“Semi, just because I’m helping you achieve your dreams, doesn’t mean you have to be nice to me.” You laughed softly, tension easing from his uncalled for kindness.

He, however, looked unconvinced. “Do you want a ride or not?”

You raised your hands in defeat, managing a genuine smile. “Alright, fine. It’ll be a hellish commute anyway.”

You liked to think that that’s how you started becoming friends with your odd, hot-headed co-worker.

#haikyuu!!#semi eita #semi eita x reader #shiratorizawa #hqscenario #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu spoilers #hq headcanons #hq!! headcanons

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always-anxious612 · 5 years ago

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Overworked and Overwhelmed (Final Chapter)

Description: Virgil is oblivious and just wants to help Roman

Genre: hurt/comfort

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, platonic LAMP

warnings: crying, food mention (let me know if I missed something or if you need something specific tagged!)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Virgil’s POV

It had been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal with Roman had happened. It felt like everyone was stepping on eggshells, just trying to go back to how everything was, but knowing that nobody really could. Still, we all at least tried to create a semblance of normalcy around the place. Patton still made breakfast and dinner. Logan still nagged us all about our sleeping schedules and drinking adequate water. I still worried about every little thing (although the worries may have shifted to focus mostly on Roman now), and Roman…well, Roman was just trying to pick up the pieces of his confidence.

At first, he did his best to put on his act once again. To pretend that he was ok. To act like he had everything all together. But we had seen him crumble. And we assured him that it was ok to…to not be ok. And then there was still the whole relationship thing to work out. Apparently, Patton and Logan had confessed to each other while I was asleep. Finally. But…well Roman and I—well, I still wasn’t sure if he knew what he said that night. He hadn’t brought it up and I hadn’t wanted to stress him out more by trying to figure out romantic feelings along with everything else.

“Kiddo?” Patton’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Will you go and get Roman? Supper is almost ready.”

“Sure Pat.” I muttered, dragging myself up from where I’d been on the couch and walking up to Roman’s room. Once I got there, I raised a hand to knock, but the door swung open before I had the chance to.

Before I knew it, Roman had wrapped me in a hug and buried his face in my shoulder.

“Um, you ok, Ro?” I asked, gently wrapping my arms around him. Roman’s sniffle and hitched breath answered my question, and I just held him tighter.

“What’s wrong, Ro? Having trouble with a project?” I prodded after a short silence. Shaking his head, he pulled away slightly and wiped at his eyes.

“No, it’s stu—It’s not...It doesn’t make any sense.” Roman stammered, searching for a phrase that wouldn’t be self-deprecating. At least he was getting a little better at that.

“What doesn’t?”

“It—I don’t know. I don’t know why I feel bad. I d-don’t have a reason. Everything is going well. Everything is on track. I—” he cut himself off as another tear slid down his face, making my heart ache. I certainly knew what it felt like to have no reason for feeling bad. I also knew how horrible it felt to feel like you were bothering someone without even having a reason for making them worry other than you feel bad and don’t know why, but I had no idea how to make it better except to reassure him. I had to try to help somehow.

“That’s ok, Ro. It’s ok not to know what’s bothering you.”

“But—” he started only to cut himself off once again, this time seemingly at a loss of how to explain.

“It’s not stupid or pointless to feel bad and not know why. It’s super frustrating, yeah, but not stupid or pointless. There’s most likely a reason or even several reasons for the way you feel that you just can’t see right now. Feelings are confusing and most of the time don’t make sense in the moment. You have to let yourself feel bad, Roman. I know it sucks, but it’ll help if you just let your feelings out. Let yourself cry. Let yourself be sad. Just remember that it’ll pass and that we’re here for you.” I assured after his continued silence, ignoring my slight blush as I took one of his hands.

“Ok?” I confirmed. He smiled tiredly, wiping the rest of his tears away and nodding before leaning over and pulling me into a kiss. I gasped softly but quickly melted into it, wrapping the hand that wasn’t gripping his around his waist. When we pulled away, we were both breathless, bright red, and smiling.

“Wh-What was that?” I asked once I recovered slightly.

“It was a kiss. Oh, um, sorry. I guess you still weren’t ready, huh.” Roman apologized, looking down.

“W-Wasn’t ready? What are you talking about? How could I have been ready? We aren’t even together?”

“What do you mean we aren’t together? Aren’t we dating?” he asked, looking thoroughly confused.

“Dating? Since when?”

“Since I said I love you and you said it back?”

“You—You were—I didn’t think you were coherent when you said that. I thought you were just tired. Have we been dating all this time? Why haven’t we kissed before now?” I rambled, thrilled and dumbfounded at the same time.

“Oh gosh. You really didn’t know. We were literally cuddling just the other day. But then you were distant when I did romantic things, so I just assumed you wanted to take it slow and didn’t want to kiss yet.” Roman explained, on the verge of laughter.

“Wha—what romantic things?” I blanched.

“What do you mean ‘what romantic things?’ I made you coffee the other morning with a heart in the foam.”

“Ok, to be fair. I tend to drink coffee in one gulp and am barely sentient in the mornings.”

“Then I put on a movie and we got a bunch of snacks and cuddled all night.”

“I thought that you just wanted a movie night.”

“Virgil, we had a candlelight picnic dinner under the stars in the imagination.”

“I-I thought that friends do that too?” I offered weakly. Roman raised an eyebrow before he couldn’t help it anymore and burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe you didn’t—You thought—oh gosh Virgil this is hilarious.” He cackled.

“Sh-Shut up. I’m unobservant when it comes to flirting.” I huffed, trying to push down the overwhelming blush trying to climb onto my face.

“It’s ok, storm cloud. Even though it was more full out dates than flirting that you were unobservant of.” He smiled, still letting out a few chuckles here and there. “Well, now that you know, we—you do want to date right? I mean, it’s ok if you don’t, I just—” I cut him off quickly, by pulling him into another kiss.

“Yes.” I whispered when we pulled away. He beamed and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug.

“Can’t breathe.” I gasped with a small giggle.

“You’re adorable.” Roman muttered, voice muffled since his face was still buried in my hoodie. My face burned once again as I stammered for a reply. Roman only laughed and pulled back with a bright smile. Well, at least it seemed I had distracted him from the bad feelings for now.

“Ok, now that that’s cleared up. Patton said that dinner was ready. It’s been about thirty minutes since then so we should probably go.” I urged, checking my phone for the time.

“Hmm, alright; but after dinner, first cuddles and movie marathon as an official couple?” Roman offered hopefully, taking my hand.

“Of course, Ro.” I grinned squeezing his hand as we started toward the kitchen. As Logan’s voice and Patton’s giggled drifted out of the dining room and with Roman’s hand gripped firmly in mine, I really believed things were getting better. Sure, things were different, but different wasn’t always bad. We were all struggling, but none of us were alone. And as for Roman, now that I actually knew we were dating, I’d make sure that he felt loved. I’d make sure that he knew it was ok to be sad. I’d make sure he knew it wasn’t bothering me to come talk about his problems if he needed it. I’d give him everything I wished I had but was too scared to ask for when I was in the place he was now. And overall, I knew he’d come out of this stronger. We all would. Our famILY was a little broken and very battered, but with a little rest and a lot of patchwork, we’d be ok again. For now, though I was content to just listen to the others’ laughter and savor the little moments. Looks like the patchwork had already begun.

Taglist:

@catolicabuena

@patches-of-mist

#tw crying #tw food mention #sanders sides fic #sanders sides #roman sander #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides angst #prinxiety #logicality #platonic lamp #my fics #thomas sanders

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magnhild · 6 years ago

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let’s talk about nora valkyrie

warning: this post is not a solid, coherent discussion. it is simply a mess of my thoughts and ideas and is rather messy. also, it contains spoilers for volume 7 of rwby, but if you can see this post then you’re probably all caught up and don’t have spoilers tagged.

so anyway let’s get into it.

I’ve always loved Nora, there’s never been any doubt about that. but at the same time, she’s always off to the side, hasn’t done too much to contribute to the plot and arguably hasn’t had any character development either. This volume though is where I think that changes. Volume 7 is truly taking steps to make sure we know she’s part of the main cast alongside her teammates and RWBY, to the point where she’s now joined Yang and Blake as one of my top favourite characters. And I think she’s going to be far more important in this volume and possibly the next ones than any of us anticipated.

Some of us had already picked up that there was more to Nora than one would first think. We’ve picked up on her brutal honesty and her surprising perceptiveness, both when it comes to people’s feelings and how to potentially solve issues. She’s certainly smarter than most people give her credit for. But volume 7 is bringing all this to the surface so that everyone can see, and I don’t think they’re just doing so for no reason. They could easily have Blake taking her role in the story, or maybe even Ruby or Weiss. But of all people, it’s Nora who’s standing up more than any of the main cast for Mantle’s wellbeing and calling Ironwood out for what he’s doing to harm it. For her, it almost seems personal, with episode 7 seeing her get angrier than we’ve ever seen her before. In fact, aside from direct confrontation with villains, we’ve rarely seen any character get this angry so far in the show. I’ve seen people say that it’s because she was an orphan and she doesn’t want to see the people of Mantle go through what she did, but I don’t think it’s that simple. After all, Ren was an orphan too, but he seems to be taking the opposite stance to her (and that’s a whole other can of worms). No, I think- and disclaimer, I’m not claiming to have come up with this- that Mantle is Nora’s original hometown and where she spent her life before somehow winding up in Anima. After all, we have absolutely no knowledge of where she came from or went through before meeting Ren aside from the fact that she was not from Kuroyuri. As for further details on her backstory, there are several possibilities. Maybe her family were extremely poor and suffered greatly from the city’s circumstances. Maybe she’s the child of a human-faunus couple and faced discrimination from both humans and faunus as a result, especially given the racism of Atlas. Maybe her parents died early on in her life and she was an orphan long before meeting Ren. Or maybe her parents died early, but she was taken in by other family. Perhaps a grandmother who might just be on her deathbed deep within Atlas who’s constantly thinking of her lost granddaughter.

Yes, the Winter Maiden Nora theory sure is a good one and if my personal theory (the human/faunus child one) falls through, I’d be very happy with it. It certainly makes sense. Not only did we never get a mention of the current Winter Maiden’s last name, but her first has some interesting origins. Fria is one of the modern spellings of Freyja, a Norse goddess, who, according to some scholars, was one of the Valkyries of Norse myth. Interesting, huh? There’s also the fact that it seems a little too easy and obvious for Winter to get the powers. Not to mention, it would certainly be a very interesting choice for the story if the powers go to someone who is beginning to oppose Ironwood rather than his most trusted lieutenant. And if Nora does indeed become the Winter Maiden, the whole game changes. Atlas’ fate is suddenly going to pretty much be in the hands of this 19-year-old woman who isn’t looking to be a very big fan of Atlas right now and is already getting stressed enough as it is. I don’t actually know much about proper Norse mythology, but I know that, in the Marvel movie at least, it’s Thor himself who causes Ragnarök. Whether or not it’s the same in the actual folklore, I don’t know, but it’s definitely something to think about.

So yeah, there are a lot of possibilities surrounding Nora being from Mantle but now let’s talk about where she could be headed with these possibilities in mind. I think it’s clear at this point that she is regretting allying with Ironwood with each passing day. In the very first episode of Volume 7, she expressed her dry disappointment with the state Mantle’s in and she’s continued to do so as time’s gone on. We also know that she supports Robyn Hill and it’s been implied that she thinks she’s doing a much better job at helping people than Ironwood is. And then there’s Ren. Despite their kiss in episode 6, it’s clear that they’re still having problems, especially now that Ren’s showed a worrying amount of support towards Ironwood- it even seems to have surprised Ruby. With all this coming to a head, I don’t think Nora’s going to be staying with the team for long. Something’s going to happen, something like a huge argument or a break of her trust and it’s going to push her right to someone who she knows is doing the right thing- Robyn. After all, Nora expressed frustration with all the lies she and the others are having to keep in the very same episode Robyn’s Semblance was revealed to be the ability to know the truth. There’s also my personal headcanon of her, May and Joanna all being trans girls and bonding over it, but I’m not getting my hopes too high for that.

Honestly though, if Nora joins the Huntresses, I think it’ll be great, both inside the show and out. I personally don’t think that what Ironwood’s doing is a good idea at all, nor do I agree with his methods and I think Nora rebelling could be the push the others to do the same (especially since Yang and Blake have already done it a little bit). It could be the cause of some really interesting conflict and we could get a lot of character building. Would she leave in secret or make it very clear where she’s going? Would her friends be able go after her or will Ironwood insist that the Amity project is more important? Will Ren feeling deeply betrayed and angered or will it be the wake-up call he needs? The choice opens so many doors and if it’s the direction they take and I’m very much here for it

Then there’s Ren. I’ve already mentioned him several times in this post, so all I’m gonna say is that I don’t think their conflict will doom them, not at all. Ren and Nora have been best friends since they were young kids and were all each other had for the longest time. They’re not going to let this ruin their friendship after all they’ve been through together. And despite what I keep seeing people saying, I think episode 6 made it clear that Ren does return Nora’s romantic feelings and it’s all in the kiss. There’s no way he’d have reacted the way he did- wrapping his arms around her and staying in the kiss for several seconds- if he didn’t feel the same way. He’d have pulled away or at the very least looked uncomfortable with it. I honestly think that, once Ren realizes that how he’s acting is risking him losing her for good, he’ll come to his senses. Every friendship and every couple have their arguments but that doesn’t mean it has to end. I have faith that they’ll get through this, even if it takes a while.

So yeah, there’s all of my jumbled-together thoughts about Nora and where I think she could be headed. I actually didn’t get down quite all of what I wanted to say, but there’ll be time for that when I eventually make Nora’s episode of my ‘Why I Love’ series on YouTube, though that’ll definitely be after volume 7 in case anything more important happens with her. For now, I hope this satisfies you guys and gives you something to think about in the seven weeks (yes, seven- they’re taking a break after episode 8) that we have to go of Volume 7.

bye nerds

#rwby #rwby theory #rwby analysis #rwby spoilers #nora valkyrie #becky rambles

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