#Scar sees them as unspoken allies

[smoozie]

Scar not saying anything as Pearl sets up a trap in their base. Apologizing as she is chased out. "I can't let you kill my ally". Okay I'm gonna be sick actually.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

As promised: emduo-centric royalty AU with sad little child hostage ward Techno I can't stop thinking about.

Techno is the second son of a tiny kingdom. The kingdom is feared far and wide for its military prowess and the production of high-quality weapons. However, a lot of this reputation is hot air. Their numbers are actually small enough that a bigger nation could come and overpower them relatively easily if it really wanted to, and they do not hold any significant trade routes or harbors. It's solely their fearsome reputation that scares people off.

Or it used to scare them off.

Another (much bigger) nation led by King Dante came and took over, using overwhelming forces to their advantage despite their weapons and strategies being subpar. When they were done, Dante allowed the king and queen to keep ruling, but on the unspoken condition that it was actually Dante pulling the strings behind the scenes and every decision goes through him

Dante leaves some of his trusted generals in the higher ranks to ensure an eye is kept on everything, and as an extra insurance, he takes one of the princes with him. Obviously not the heir, that would be a scandal! But the second-born son would do just fine

Dante takes Techno in and to much of the outside world, they presume this is a wardship, as is common between allies.

When in reality, it's more like a semi-polite hostage situation.

Dante uses the military powers he has gained from Techno's country to quickly overthrow a few other surrounding smaller nations by aggressive, militaristic means. His reputation suffers for it, but that doesn't really matter when within a blink of an eye, Dante is ruling over the 'United Nations of Hypixel', one of the biggest countries in the world and thus a significant player on the political stage.

The other countries that remain are of similar huge size and a lot stronger than any of the smaller countries Dante trampled thus far though. And while Dante is greedy, he's not a moron. So he knows that going to war with any of them heedlessly would be a bad idea.

So he changes tactics. He sends delegations, he invites nobles and other royals, and tries to make diplomatic treaties. Maybe there's a little bit of assassination and blackmailing and information laundering and stuff going on too but shhhhh. No need to worry about that, Dante is proving he can play nice.

Techno, eight when he was taken from his home, remains at the court all the while.

To the outside world, he's living a cushy life as a prince. They only see a spoiled little boy who has everything he could ever wish for, lavish clothes and fancy food and servants helping him with whatever he wants. Little do people know that's only the image Dante wants to project, now that he's trying to play nice with other countries. The fine silk and heavy velvet hide the scars and bruises Techno gets from Dante and his generals behind closed doors.

Hell, even from the servants. Dante has made it clear he doesn't care how Techno gets treated by them, as long as they don't inflict permanent damage.

Others wouldn't know that those fancy public appearances are the only times Techno gets to eat proper food, and even then Dante will punish him if he eats too much during them. He can't appear greedy, after all. But Techno has been taught politeness. And how to decline courteously. He's been taught manners.

He's been taught how to obey Dante perfectly, and be a sign to others for Dante's goodwill.

Of course, anybody who would actually bother to investigate this with more than a passing glance could see that Techno is being horribly abused.

The problem is that they don't give it more than a passing glance.

The truth of the matter is that Dante has skewed the narrative enough to make Techno's nation seem like even more of a bloodthirsty, war-mongering one many people already believed it was. And Dante is merely the man who has leashed the feral beast.

They're allies now, and people don't like Dante, but they don't like Techno's family and the nation he came from even more. So even most outsiders coming to the court will avoid Techno when possible, or even regard him with disdain and mistreat him.

Commoners hate him for being royalty and being a symbol of the nation that caused so much war, royals/nobles from other countries hate him for his heritage, Dante and his men just hate him, period.

Techno can't catch a break.

His only hope is to wait until this is over. He's turning twelve in a few weeks. He misses home.

[Dante tells Techno that his parents don't want him back

Dante says that since he has secured his position enough and the game has changed, he doesn't really need a hostage anymore. But he asked Techno's parents, and they said they didn't care to have him back.

They were always rather cold to Techno, would always tell him he was an accident and the only son they needed was Billiam, Techno's older brother. The heir. It saves them the trouble of having to stage an 'accidental death' for Techno down the line, when his existence becomes a threat to the succession rights.

But maybe part of Techno had still been wishing they loved him.

Sometimes, Dante wonders out loud if publicly executing Techno would be a good move for his reputation; especially since people hate Techno's family so much.

If Techno shows fear at the prospect of death, Dante punishes him. So very quickly Techno becomes numb to that too.]

Techno doesn't really have anybody in his corner at this point. Until Phil comes to court.

Phil is the emperor of the Antarctic Empire, a nation far up in the north. The country is harshly cold and rather mountainous. It's also almost entirely self-sufficient, despite the strange climate it manages to completely feed its populace and provide its own resources. It barely trades with the outside world and since the borders are lined by a mountain pass on the south and oceans on all other sides, it doesn't see a lot of travelers. It is, for all intents and purposes, an enigma. Some people rumor it doesn't exist.

The country also manages to stay out of any foreign politics 90% of the time because of its solitude, so having the emperor come out himself for a summons is quite something.

[Dante send the invite not expecting a response. It was more of a formality, honestly. Because not at least addressing the Antarctic Empire would have been worse, in terms of what's polite. And he can't risk catching their ire.

Little does Dante (or anybody else) know, but the Antarctic Empire is very aware of what's going on past their borders, because of a spy network all official documents simply refer to as 'the crows'. So Phil and Kristin have been keeping informed on the fact that somebody was making The Next Big Nation (tm) and that it could spell trouble later. Phil came down to see what's up.]

Phil knows about Techno's nation/family too, through the crows. But Phil also has a very strict policy that boils down to "the crows are little shits and they lie". Or more accurately, Phil knows how to treat secondhand information and always takes it with a grain of salt. That's why when something truly matters, he goes down there himself instead of sending somebody to speak for him like most other royals do.

And thus, Phil is the first one who tries to scrutinize Techno's situation and ends up going "Hey what the fuck! this is not how you treat a child."

He knows the Blade family does not make allies, and that Techno is a hostage. Slowly he starts to befriend the boy, who is extremely reluctant to extend any trust, while also not pissing off Dante or starting a war. It's a work in progress, but Phil is a stubborn bastard.

His original intention is to get Techno back home to his family. Until he finds out the truth of how Techno is treated there too - the proverb 'out of the frying pan, into the fire' comes to mind, perhaps.

That's when Phil goes "free sonboy" and takes Techno home instead.

Slow bonding and healing ensues, naturally <3 (also I'll post a link to my drabble in the replies)

[echoedcrosshairs]

Unseen Scars

Summary: Female Jedi survived order 66 hides out in the underground of Ord Mantell. Hiding out in Cid's parlor keeping your head down you see Rex's face and get sent backward in time. (Gif by @dreamswithghosts)

Warning: Order 66 Jedi Trauma, Feeling Haunted, Soft Rex, Angsty and Love

Word count: 2.7

(part two)

Masterlist

The costs of war can never be truly accounted for, you spun the disgusting bottom shelf liquid around your glass pondering Master Yoda's saying noting how right it was. Your head swam back to when the order was given, feeling all the death and pain through the force. The betrayal on the deepest level, soldiers we fought beside for years trusted with our lives killing us like discarded bantha fodder. We never saw it coming, we speculated something was coming but we never dreamed that our dearest allies would turn on us. You wondered if anyone had made it and if they too lived like womp rats hiding in darkness.

One must let go of the past to hold on to the future. The saying twisted in your guts like a knife, how does one even move past something like that? How could I even think of the future? Your mind wandered to your closest... friend and confidant then the rage seethed like it normally did when you envision his face knowing it was one of countless who gunned down Jedi. You slammed the drink back. Looking up you saw another hooded stranger walking sitting in the other dark corner. Your mind went blank at this presence, body screaming at you to run... it didn't take long to find out why. Frozen to your seat like the ice of Hoth itself held you down forcing you to watch the scene unfolds. In the commotion your hood most have fallen back, the four men and him stared at you you didn't hear a word that was said before that your ears rang and your mind fell blank. Puzzled looks fell on the four men's faces as he softly said "Commander..." The title use to make your heart flutter everytime he called it out but now it just filled you with terror. Any minute now he was going to shoot, your heart pounded and your feet finally started moving.

Rex fell to unabashedly to his knees for a moment watching you flee from him, she's not dead, the relief flooded him followed by agonizing truth that you were horrified of him, why wouldn't you be? Why didn't you hear that his chip was gone? His hand wiped the revolution that trickled from his eyes. Rex's head was spinning but he pulled himself up one leg at a time. He looked at Echo who was staring at the door before turning to him gripping his shoulder, "We'll find her, Captain."

"Who was that, Rex?" Hunter asked.

"A Jedi," Echo whispered, "a very dear friend of ours."

Hunter waited staring at Rex knowing there was more to the story, "Found her," Tech said interrupting the silence.

"Where is she," Echo said taking the data pad from Tech, "She's on the move-" finally noticing the wetness he wiped from his face.

"Girlfriend, wasn't she?" Tech said filling in the unspoken blanks.

"Soldier's can't have relations with the Jedi-" Rex stated.

"The Republic is gone and to the Empire you are dead," Tech said flatly.

"We have to go, Captain," Echo urged, Rex nodded and the Five of them started running.

What is lost is often found. Ord Mantell had become your darkness, a sliver of peace and privacy in the blossoming chaos of the Empire spreading through out the galaxy. A chance to fade into the shadows as a relic of an era that was over. Now this home had to be abandon just like everything else. Your feet kept running and the hair on back of your neck stood up. You looked back, nearly tripping noticing the four's armor. Commando's, the deadliest troopers, designed differently and raised to endure. They probably have everything mapped out in their hands, it's like shooting a rancor in a cage. Not even with my saber do I stand a chance against four... Although one seems familiar... You looked back noticing the one with a stomp, "Echo... Clone Force 99," you ducked sideways into the nearest building. Crosshair has to be up above some where waiting for his trap to spring.

You cut through the building hopefully buying yourself time to think. Running out of breath you rested for a second against the wall. You mentally listed Hunter's, Tech's and Wrecker's enhancements. Anyone but Wrecker even with his strength I doubt it would be quick... Then again with Crosshairs temperament I doubt he would be either. You hit your head back against the wall before taking off again. Turning your head again you saw Hunter catching up, you stopped for a second using the force to rip a door and shoved it in his direction, but you knew it was to late his hunters sense of smell and hearing... If I could just get to the nightclub... I could use that against him- You're body collided with a solid mass and tumbled back, Echo. You scrambled back to your feet defensively reaching for the lightsaber that was no longer there.

"I'm putting down my blaster," Echo said eyeing you like a rapid animal waiting to lounge, "Commander, you're safe. None of us are going to hurt you nor to turn you in."

"The clones betrayed us," you gritted out slowly backing out of the room.

"Not all of us, Commander," Rex said behind you and his arms come around you. Feeling you thrash against him, "Mesh'la..." he got out pained softly whispering your name, "You're safe," he felt your legs buckle slowly took both of you to the ground holding you against him wrapping his arms around you tighter hearing the sobs start. He gave Echo a weary look as he sat looking at the two of you.

"Commander, I'm glad you made it. Both of you," Echo said taking off his helmet setting it off to the side, "The three of us together again," he added quietly with a small chuckle.

"Say something..." Rex whispered, "anything..."

"Let me go.." as you finished the sentence Rex's arm came off, always the loyal solider following orders. Pathetically you crawled away from both of them curling your knees to your body. You looked at them resting your head on your knee, "Is this some sick trick?" You whispered.

Rex's fingers went to the scar on the side of his head, "It's gone," he paused reaching out his hand, "Ask me again."

Anxiously you took his hand and asked again feeling the truth in the answer and Echo did the same, "The others need to get their chips out but they haven't activated, I promise."

Finally you genuinely looked at Rex, the fine buzzed blonde hair, the poncho hiding his 501st armor and earthy tones eyes staring back at you. You stared at him the red veins in his eyes, you wiped the tears from your own looking up out the windows. There was no imperial ships above waiting because they would have been here by now. Glancing down you found your hand visibly shaking you pulled your arms into your lap handing them. You looked back at Rex as much as you wanted to see him your mind kept slipping backwards seeing the troopers fire at you and the others fleeing. Shutting your eyes you buried your head in your lap.

"So... why are they just sitting there?" Wrecker asked.

"Given the last time she was around regs they tried to terminate her per Order 66," Tech offered, "If she around them when the order was given which I am assuming she was given her behavior."

"Shouldn't we be in there because we're not regs?"

"No, we still have our chips however deviant we are if what Captain Rex says to be true, the three of us are the dangerous ones. I would leave them be."

"Commander..." Rex said softly.

"The war is over, you don't need to call me that," you said lifting your head to your knees. Rex whispered your name softly and you forced yourself to look at him, "What?" you whispered.

"I'm glad you're still here."

You reminded silent for a moment, How do I even answer that? I'm not. "Thank you," you decided to be polite.

"Do you want me to give you two a couple minutes?" Echo asked softly.

No, "Yes," forced its way out through your strained vocals.

Echo looked at Rex hesitantly before prying himself off the hard ground heading outside to meet up with his squad, finding the anxious look on their faces discussing what had compelled Rex to cry given it was next to impossible for a clone. Everyone in the had 501st gossiped about what was going between them but neither of them had every winded any truth to it, Echo aired that curiosity to them which silenced them in understanding.

Rex moved closer to you watching you flinch moving his hands under his poncho watching you tense up as he took it off. He slowly took off his armor laying it to him revealing the plain civvies underneath, "Just me," he whispered watching you relax a bit. He cautiously scoot forward waiting to see if you would move away when you didn't he came a hands width away. He looked at the ponchow with an idea putting it over both of your heads surrounding both of you in completed darkness to keep the reminders of his face at bay but also privacy, "Just us."

"Why did you chase after me?"

"I always protect my Jedi, I'll always protect you."

"Why did you send 99 after me... it was horrifying."

"That wasn't my idea albeit it was a good plan to get around you sensing me if you were distracted," Rex admitted, "It worked in my favor, albeit to well." Weakly Rex let his finger tips touch your knee waiting to see if you'd jerk away but you didn't and he slide his palm on your knee resting it there. He gave it a gentle squeeze, "I'm sorry."

Shakily you put your hand on top of it and squeezed it back. The familiar warmth radiated off him, "Rex," the name rolled from your tongue like a distant pleasant memory, "it's getting hot under here." He laid one hand on top yours and used the other to cast aside the poncho to the ground, "Better" you whispered.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" it pained him to think about finding you again and losing you again but it comforted him that you had survived. He smiled watching the emotions coast through your face, you'd always been so good at hiding them but now they were as plain to see as the stars in a clear night.

Your mind screamed yes but the familiar warmth in your heart said no. Staring at the scar on his head, you shook your head Rex isn't a threat, Rex isn't a threat, Rex isn't a threat. Your stomach turned but you allowed yourself to reach out to him through the force finding the familiar honesty, courage, loyalty, the secret in his heart that did his best to hide from the outside world was so blatantly on display with his touch. You watch pain on his face slowly relieving.

You felt him slowly weave his fingers through yours, "Is that okay?" he asked.

"I can feel Echo's contentment and laughter from here," you weakly laughed.

"They did speculate about what was going on between us," Rex smiled looking up at Echo laughing in the window giving him a thumbs up hearing him faintly say 'Called it'. Rex groaned still smiling, "Will you allow this humble man to walk you back to the parlor?"

"Yeah... I need a drink... or a dozen," you said prying yourself up with him still holding your hand as he stood up himself temporarily letting go to reaffix his armor and poncho.

"When did you take up drinking?" he asked arching an eyebrow relacing his fingers through yours noting you wouldn't look at him to long but the expression said enough as to why. His thumb traced the reminiscent intimate skin of his love, each swipe solidifying that you were alive and there not just some figment of his imagination holding him to the past, "I've missed you with each breath of life my soul expels."

Your face flames at his words, "When did you become a poet?" you jested.

"To many late nights wondering what happened to you."

Echo rejoined the two of you but everyone else gave you breathing room. Even with his fingers gripping to yours he still brought his other hand across his body holding onto your arm for dear life. You looked up at him almost crying again, even before all of this you never publicly got to walk down the street with him or show any interest in him.

"What is it?" he whispered, "My fabulous hair getting in your eye?" he attempted to crack a joke.

"That was horrible, Captain," Echo chuckled.

You squeezed his hand, "Never got to do this before... walk down the street just as me and you."

"It's a different time," he offered.

"So Comm-" Echo caught the title switching to your name instead, "How long," he said motioning his finger between the two of you."

Rex looked at you a bright scarlet sweeping his face, "Well... somewhere between the whole time and now," he offered.

Echo gave him a flabbergasted look, "What."

"Help?" Rex choked out taking his extra hand off your arm to rub his head awkwardly which got an even more expressive reaction from Echo,

"Tibrin," you offered back smirking at the unspoken about mission.

Echo groaned knowing the answer was going to get him no where. He looked at both of you smiling, "Everything in the galaxy has changed but I'm glad something stayed the same."

"I didn't think it would," Rex said flatly staring at the ground for a couple minutes before looking back up.

You stopped as much as the anxiety about the clones put you on edge, that comment stung worse, "Commander?" he asked staring at you. Even Echo had stopped.

"To love, is to trust. To trust is to believe. Do you believe I would so easily changeable?"

"We change everyday to adapt to this new world. Who we are now is not who we were when we met."

You dropped his hand continued walking, "Cyare," he groaned wrapping his arms around you pulling you to him, "You didn't let me finish. We as people change but in no galaxy, nor time apart nor in death will my heart ever beat for anyone else. Looks at me Mesh'la," Rex swallowed although his mouth and throat were parched, "Let me kiss you to prove it."

You looked up at him, Rex had never been one for public affection even so much as holding his hands behind his back and side stepping if he was even within a foot of you even in moments of privacy outside of a confined bedroom. He peeled his gloves off sticking them in his pocket, "It's only ever been you," he said lightly touching your face with one hand waiting before bringing the other to your face caressing you pull you close to him lowering himself to you waiting and when you didn't move he took your bottom lip between his.

It was like thrusters coming online, an inferno blazing between the both of you. Every feeling of love, pain, lost and aching of the soul. Somewhere in the distant you heard Echo laughing and calling the two of you cute. Your fingers shakily found the side of his feeling the familiar cut of his cheeks and strength of his jaw. Then up to the scar flinching you pulled away. There was a temporary look of disappointment on his face followed by understanding. He grilled your fingers tighter, “I’ll spend the rest of life protecting you from the unseen scars with my love.” Rex pulled you closed, “I love you.”

Maybe a part two?

[6azia]

Blood| Hidan x m!reader

—summary. (Y/N)’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. “You’ll have your chance for bloodshed. Patience is a virtue, even for those like us.” Or (Y/N) and Hidan go out alone w/ opposite temper

—content warning. Lil blood, jashinism(I think), bottom (Y/N), top hidan, forst se-, no aftercare

—word count. ~3,2k

—azia's notes. The smut will hopefully get better and sry posting late forgot

𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯-𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱

The flickering light of a nearby torch cast long shadows on the walls of the old black market outpost. The air was thick with the pungent scent of iron, smoke, and unspoken deals. (Y|N) leaned casually against a wooden beam, his cold eyes scanning the crowded underground marketplace. This wasn’t the usual task he relished-gathering information, cutting deals, restocking supplies for the Akatsuki-but it needed to be done.

Beside him, Hidan huffed impatiently, his scythe propped against his shoulder, clearly not thrilled about the errand either.

“I can’t believe they sent us out here for this,” Hidan grumbled, sneering at the merchants and shady dealers surrounding them. “Weapons and info? This is grunt work. I don’t see why we couldn’t just slaughter the lot of ‘em and take whatever we need.”

(Y|N) took a tired puff of his cigar, an unsettling glint in the tired eyes of his that always seemed to unnerve even his closest allies only looked unimpressed at the Jashinist. “There’s a time for slaughter and a time for... subtlety, Hidan. We need these weapons suppliers alive if we want to stay well-equipped. And more importantly,” he paused, his voice dropping to a whisper, “we need information about Orochimaru’s movements. He’s been slippery ever since he left the Akatsuki. We can’t afford to be rash.”

Hidan scoffed. “You and your damn subtlety. All I hear is excuses not to get blood on our hands.”

(Y|N)’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. “You’ll have your chance for bloodshed. Patience is a virtue, even for those like us.”

The pair moved deeper into the market, the dim lighting creating a maze of shadowed corners and narrow alleyways lined with weapon stands and black-market traders. A few of the dealers eyed them warily. Most recognized (Y|N) immediately—his reputation as a trafficker and mercenary for the Akatsuki was well known in the underworld. Hidan, however, drew attention for an entirely different reason. His imposing figure and the gleaming, three-bladed scythe on his back left no room for doubt that violence was never far from him.

(Y|N) led the way toward a secluded corner, where a large, bald man with a scarred face and an array of high-quality blades spread across his stall stood waiting. He was one of (Y|N)’s contacts, a reliable supplier of rare and powerful weapons. (Y|N) knew he could trust the man to provide what they needed without asking too many questions.

“We need resupply,” He said smoothly, puffing a big cloud out, his voice low and raspy as always. “And you know how I feel about prices. Don’t test me today.”

The merchant nodded nervously, his eyes darting between the merchant and Hidan. “Of course, of course. Same deal as always. High-quality blades, kunai, and some specialty weapons. I’ve got what you need. Just came in yesterday.”

(Y|N) raised a brow, his gaze narrowing. “You mentioned specialty weapons. Anything... exotic?”

The merchant leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’ve got something from one of Orochimaru’s old labs. Don’t ask how I got it, but it’s dangerous. Experimental. Might be useful if you’re looking for an edge.”

Hidan’s interest piqued at the mention of Orochimaru. “Tch, the snake freak. Let me guess, more of his weird science projects?”

(Y|N) stepped closer, eyes gleaming. “Show me.”

The merchant carefully pulled out a small, sealed container from beneath his stall. Inside were a series of small, dark-metal darts, each laced with what appeared to be a faint purple toxin. “Poison-coated. Something designed to paralyse the chakra network completely. No known antidote yet.”

(Y|N) smile widened. “Perfect.”

While (Y|N) inspected the weaponry, Hidan tapped his foot impatiently. “Alright, we’ve got the weapons. Now, where’s this info on Orochimaru? That’s what I’m more interested in. I wanna know where that bastard is hiding so I can offer him up to Jashin.”

The merchant gulped. “Information on Orochimaru... it’s risky, but I’ve heard rumors. Word on the street is he’s set up some hidden lab in the Land of Rivers, experimenting on a new batch of test subjects. Something about creating the perfect vessel. That’s all I know, I swear.”

(Y|N) tilted his head, digesting the information. Orochimaru had always been obsessed with immortality and power, but the mention of a "perfect vessel" piqued his interest. His ties with Orochimaru from the old days still lingered like a ghost, though he had no loyalty left to the snake. If anything, his curiosity was purely strategic.

“He’s experimenting again, is he?” He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “And he’s in the Land of Rivers... intriguing.”

Hidan growled in frustration. “Enough talk. Are we going after him or not? The Akatsuki wants him dealt with, and I want to tear him apart.”

(Y|N) chuckled darkly. “Soon, Hidan, soon. But Orochimaru isn’t a target we can just rush into. We need more information before we make a move. We know where he is, but we need to know what he’s working on. If he’s preparing something big, we’ll want to hit him at the right moment.”

Hidan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. As much as he hated (Y|N)’s cautious approach, even he had to admit that Orochimaru was no ordinary target. Still, the anticipation of the coming bloodshed was enough to keep him satisfied-for now.

The two gathered the weapons and prepared to leave the market. (Y|N), ever calm, carried himself with his usual air of eerie control, while Hidan was already imagining the chaos and destruction that would follow once they tracked down Orochimaru.

As they moved through the dim alleys, (Y|N) took another breath and spoke again, his voice low and sinister. “Orochimaru’s obsession with immortality has made him reckless. The more he experiments, the more mistakes he makes. And mistakes, Hidan... those are what we’ll use to bring him down.”

Hidan grinned, his bloodlust barely contained. “I don’t care how we do it. As long as I get to see him bleed.”

(Y|N)’s cold eyes glinted in the shadows. “Oh, you will. But not before we get what we need from him. Patience, Hidan. This is a game of serpents, and only one of us will survive.”

As the two Akatsuki members disappeared into the misty night, the black-market dealers whispered amongst themselves, fearful of the violence that always seemed to follow the Akatsuki duo wherever they went. Somewhere in the Land of Rivers, Orochimaru was already preparing his next twisted experiment, unaware that the shadows were closing in around him.

The mission to track down Orochimaru had stretched far longer than either of them expected. Days turned into weeks as they traversed the desolate forests of the Land of Rivers, inching closer to Orochimaru's elusive hideout. Along the way, the tension between the two Akatsuki members shifted in strange, unexpected ways.

At first, their relationship had been purely one of necessity. (Y|N)’s calculating mind, always several steps ahead, grated against Hidan’s impulsive nature. Where Hidan sought the immediate satisfaction of blood and chaos, (Y|N) lived for the slow, methodical game. It was a dynamic that kept them clashing. But over time, something began to change.

In the stillness of their nights on the road, as the moonlight filtered through the trees and the crackling of their campfire provided the only noise, Hidan found himself watching his partner. The way the older man’s dark eyes flickered with an unfathomable intelligence. The way his pale hands moved with unsettling grace as he prepared poisons or sharpened his blades. The way he basked into the smoke of his expensive cigars. The way the smoke danced from his plump lips to his imposing figure. There was something hypnotic about (Y|N)’s calmness, his eerie confidence in every situation, that drew Hidan in-though he would never admit it.

One night, as they set up camp, Hidan threw his scythe against a nearby tree and sat by the fire, his frustration more palpable than usual. “This is taking too damn long,” he growled, rubbing a hand through his silver hair. “We’ve been out here for weeks, and still no sign of that snake bastard.”

The other whitehead sat across from him, a small smile playing on his lips as he lightened himself another cigar. “Patience, Hidan. Orochimaru is a slippery one, but he can’t hide forever. The longer we wait, the more careless he becomes.”

Hidan glared at him. “You and your patience. I’m getting tired of this game. I need something-literally anything-to keep me from going crazy out here.”

(Y|N) looked up from his bingo book, his gaze locking onto Hidan’s with that unsettling calm. “Going crazy? Or are you just craving blood again?”

Hidan snorted. “You think I can’t handle a little waiting? I’m not some child who needs to be distracted. It’s just that... all this sneaking around, it’s not my style.”

(Y|N)’s smirk deepened, his eyes glittering with amusement. “No, it’s not. But maybe that’s why you’re so fascinated by me.” He blew a small cloud to the Jashinist.

Hidan’s expression darkened, his fist clenching at the insinuation. “Fascinated? By you? Don’t flatter yourself, old man.”

(Y|N)’s voice lowered, almost to a whisper, as he leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Hidan’s. “Oh, I think you are. You’re drawn to things you don’t understand, Hidan. You crave destruction and blood, but there’s something about control—about subtlety—that intrigues you, even if you won’t admit it.”

Hidan opened his mouth to retort, but something in (Y|N)’s gaze made the words die in his throat. There was a tension between them that hadn’t been there before. Something unspoken, simmering beneath the surface.

Hidan shifted, uncomfortable with the strange heat building between them. “You think you know me? You think you can analyze me like one of your little experiments?”

(Y|N) chuckled softly, the sound dark and almost mocking. “You’re more predictable than you realise.”

That was enough to set Hidan off. He stood abruptly, crossing the small distance between them and grabbing (Y|N) by the collar of his robe. “You think I’m predictable?” he growled, pulling (Y|N) closer. Hidan's nostrils filled with smokey and earthy smell of (Y|N), unknowingly memorising it.“Then why don’t you tell me what I’m gonna do next, huh?”

(Y|N)’s smile didn’t waver, even as Hidan’s grip tightened. His voice remained low and calm, like a snake coiled and ready to strike. “You’re going to kiss me.”

The words hit Hidan like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened in shock, but his grip didn’t loosen. Instead, his breath quickened, the intensity of the moment pressing down on him like a vice. He could feel (Y|N)’s calm heartbeat under his fingers, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, Hidan didn’t know what to do next.

And yet, the tension between them was undeniable.

With a low growl, Hidan yanked (Y|N) closer, their faces inches apart. His mind was racing, but his body moved on instinct. Without thinking, he pressed his lips against (Y|N)’s in a fierce, almost violent kiss. It wasn’t soft or tender; it was raw, a clash of heat and intensity as their lips collided.

(Y|N), to Hidan’s surprise, responded in kind. His lips were too hot at first, but they cooled down quickly as the kiss deepened. (Y|N)’s hands slid up Hidan’s arms, pulling him closer, and for a moment, the two of them were locked in a battle of control and surrender. It was a power struggle, just like everything else between them, but this time it was played out in the intimacy of their kiss.

Hidan’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions-confusion, anger, desire-but he didn’t pull away. His grip on (Y|N)’s collar loosened, and his hands moved to the back of (Y|N)’s neck, pulling him even closer. The kiss grew more intense, more desperate, as if they were both trying to prove something to each other through the sheer force of their lips.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they broke apart, both of them breathing heavily. Hidan’s eyes were wild, his heart racing. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, and yet, at the same time, it felt inevitable.

(Y|N), as usual, was calm. His dark eyes gleamed with that same eerie amusement, though there was a flicker of something else in his gaze-something darker, more primal. “I told you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re predictable.”

Hidan, still breathless, glared at him. “Shut up. That didn’t mean anything.”

(Y|N) chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against Hidan’s neck before pulling away. “Whatever you say, Hidan. But you and I both know... this changes things.”

Hidan’s fists clenched, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t have the words, didn’t have the energy to argue. All he knew was that something between them had shifted, something that neither of them could ignore. He could still taste Isa on his lips, could still feel the heat of the kiss lingering between them.

(Y|N) stood, smoothing out his robe as if nothing had happened. “Rest up. We’ll continue the search tomorrow.”

Hidan watched him for a moment, his mind still reeling from the kiss, but he said nothing. For once, Hidan didn’t have a retort, didn’t have a smart-ass comment. He just stood there, feeling a mix of emotions he didn’t fully understand.

As (Y/N) walked away, disappearing into the shadows beyond the fire, Hidan felt a strange pull in his chest. It wasn’t love-he didn’t believe in that crap;but there was something between them now, something that couldn’t be undone.

And for the first time, Hidan found himself craving more than just blood. (Y|N) took the hint and stepped closer; their bodies now flush against each other. Both letting a sight slip out at their proximity. It wasn’t unusual for them to be close to each other, however the unsaid promise of more hung heavy in the air.

”I really fucking hate you, old man” Hidan breathed out and gripped the hair on the back of (Y|N) head. The laters head got pushed back, exposing the tender flesh to the Jashinist. “Just try to be quiet” was whispered around the exposed flesh and a moan was pulled off the old man’s throat as Hidan parted his thin lips to lightly suck on the blemished skin.

The cigar fell out of (Y|N)’s hands but he didn’t seem to care. His hands gripped the front of Hidan’s cloak, trying to get the warm material off him. Hidan only chuckled and unexpectedly bit down on the place where the neck and shoulder met. He stayed in that position even as (Y|N) tried to push him off and even insult him, which didn’t really happen often.

Hidan’s color started to change and the two started to feel the desires of the other more pronounced. “Hah-didn’t think I would do that now, old man” Hidan mumbled on the latter neck while lapping on the hot blood oozing out. (Y|N) tried to keep his composure but it was hard when feeling every little thing his partner felt. Hidan’s hard on was pressing against the others, his hips moving experimentally and nearly buckling in from the immense pleasures. It was one thing feeling his own pleasure; but feeling the others too was something else.

“Hurry up!” (Y|N) breathed out impatiently, hooking his now free hand on the other's waistband. Hidan let a groan out and started to kiss other parts of (Y|N) neck.

After struggling with their clothes Hidan caged the older man more, letting their hard dicks stimulate each other.

“Shut up” Hidan muttered, too fixed to not crumble from the fireworks of his feelings. He hooked one hand around the other's leg, so he would get access. (Y/N) could only take a small shallow breath, not expecting Hidan sudden thrust. The whitehead stayed still by the sudden burning sensation and the other frowned at him. Their faces are contoured by pain and pleasure alike.

Not long the accumulated pre from the top let him move slowly, however he didn't get far with (Y/N)’s leg hooking around him. So he stayed still to let the other adjust. At that peaceful moment he swore quietly while rocking his hips to his ability. With that earning a deep moan in return and a mind numbing he knew they both shared. “P-please, move” His partner mumbled barely audibly. Hidan only huffed and gripped the leg which was trapping him with, accidentally, too much force.

His mind still hasn’t wrapped around the fact that he would feel every single thing he would do to the other, so naturally knees buckled at the feeling of someone breaching him and gripping him with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. It nearly made him let go, however the pained expression on the other let him continue. “Hah- don’t be such a pussy. Can’t even handle a bit of pain?” Hidan managed to hiss, what surprised him was the tight squeeze from (Y/N).

“Fuck-What a sick fucker you are, I bet you would get off if the Akatsuki saw you like that” The white head chuckled. (Y/N) closed his eyes in shame and slowly tried to rock his hips. His cock could even feel a hint of warmth, however it couldn't compare to his hot face while they did this sinful act. Hidan didn’t even really start to thrust and (Y/N) already cummed on their remaining clothes, without much warning.

Just as he wanted to swear he was hit with the same back arching pleasure. With a deep thrust he emptied himself. The both of them were left with a warm fuzzy feeling. While (Y/N) was just basking into the afterglow, Hidan let him nearly collapse.

“Help would be nice, ya know!” (Y/N) tried to frown and look intimidating. Hidan let a huff out and looked down at the once serious man, who now is looking with a beat red face and big eyes at the slowly normal turning skin of his. Hidan really could get used to having someone looking at him with such eyes and not robot-like ones that wanna kill him at every minute.

After coming down he looked down at the now sitting partner and he realised if he focused enough he could even see some dried tears in those once sharp eyes. Hidan only smiled at this and went to lie down too, deciding that being the best solution with (Y/N) still cock drunk.

The sky was already dark, so why not sleep a bit and just pray to Jashin-sama that no enemy shinobi tries to rob them. Or should others come, Hidan really needs some more sacrifices. With one last thought the white head's eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep into a dreamless dream, without a second glance at the other.

[zorilleerrant]

Tim is fine with being protected. It comes from being the least trained in a family full of people with borderline supernatural skills, it comes from playing backup, from being the eye in the sky during so many missions when he has more support skills than those better equipped to be boots on the ground. It comes from being on so many teams with so many people with so many powers and it comes from being practically family to household names. It comes from being the one Robin that’s always there for Batman to play it safe with.

Tim is not fine with a civilian putting himself in danger. It’s not because it’s Bernard, he tells himself, over and over again. It’s any time it’s someone with less training, less armor, less experience in the field. Anyone with fewer weapons, anyone with fewer allies, anyone who can’t see the split second decisions the villains are making with someone else’s life on the line. Anyone who didn’t devote themselves to this, who didn’t look at the symbol of the Bat and agree to be part of the venture, paring off every extraneous branch on the journey until the pike is honed smooth, ready to throw.

It’s every civilian, but it’s one civilian, one with a lopsided smile and the most textbook perfect punch he puts his whole weight behind, a body at peak physical health but without the kind of reflexes scarred in day after day he needs to stand his ground. Smooth skin, few scars. Hands soft despite the callouses and gentle, carefully applying stitches, bandages, injections they’re not yet used to holding. One civilian with ridiculous, almost unintelligible good luck wishes, and no fashion sense, who talks too fast to keep himself safe when he’s in someone else’s sights.

But Bernard knows people, he knows places, he has a name with weight where Robin’s doesn’t matter much and Tim Drake’s even less, and he’s willing to throw it around Tim like the shield it is. He puts his body in between Tim and harm, and still that easy smile, still those eyes shining with some kind of hidden plan, some words unspoken because you know that once they are, they’re going to be good. He doesn’t tell Tim the way out. Tim isn’t supposed to have the kind of skills he needs to navigate a situation like this, so why let him in on the secret?

From everyone else’s perspective, Tim is soft and small and spoiled, Tim is the kind of kid who doesn’t even know himself enough to be sure he wants to hold hands. A rich kid who’s never gotten his hands dirty, a pretty little trophy on the arm of someone whose gaze holds the weight of the world when he carefully measures his words. Someone there to giggle when Bernard asks if they’re absolutely sure they really want to do that.

Bernard knows who he is. Bernard knows what Tim would throw himself bodily between, knows how much he would give, how much he has given, for his friends, and his family, and Gotham. How much he would give for Bernard. He knows that Tim would fight tooth and nail, and how well he knows where each tooth and each nail fits for maximum damage, to keep himself alive those few seconds long enough to wait for help. Bernard knows what Robin can do, would do, will do again once they’re out and safe and free.

But Tim knows just how fragile the human form is. How many bones there are to break and how many pints of blood there are to lose, how deep scarring has to go before it’s impossible to move. He knows the spots that hurt and the spots that harm, and he knows that the bravado is just a façade. That if anyone sees through Bernard’s act, sees through his ploys and appeals to an authority that scares him as much as his audience, that Bernard has just as many points of vulnerability as anyone else who’s lain broken and cold before him.

Tim will be the princess in the castle, and Bernard his knight, but for all the things he knows a dragon can do. Tim can count the dragons around them. Bernard can, too. Bernard’s been a dragon on his own, or else the child of one, and he knows firsthand the burns they leave, and still he sweeps across the ash like it isn’t even there. It’s Robin who can do something, Robin the wizard with ancient tomes and sage advice, but Tim is the only one here, and no one ever wants the princess to rescue herself. He has to let Bernard be his knight.

But Bernard speaks the magic words, and Tim does trust him, places his life so carefully in his lover’s hands and closes his eyes against the chill, and Bernard takes that gift for what it means, carries it with all the weight it has and tucks it up so gently against his own heart. Tim isn’t always the one with the way out, and he isn’t always the one who can do the protecting, and he’s used to that. But he slips his fingers through the one hand he thought he’d always be able to hold without being led by it, and lets that perfect image shatter. There’s no keeping Bernard away. He’s already involved. More involved than Tim ever was, in some ways, and less in the ways that Tim can still keep him out of it. Not safe, none of them were ever safe, but not as fragile as the snowglobe he was trying to frame the picture with, and there are more angles than he was prepared to watch. Still, Tim has contingencies. And the contingency, now, is to let Bernard protect him for once, just like he promised he would.

[puer-aurea]

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

Angst for Heart Foundation "I wasn't ready to say goodbye."

"I love it." CRACK! 'I love it' were the last words he heard. Tango fell to his death as the result of trusting Scar enough to go into the globe with him. Skizz said he was going to kill them, and Tango knew, but he also knew he had no chance. He just kind of wishes he could've heard Skizz or Bigb as his last words. Skizz knew who died before he even checked his communicator. He saw the lightning strike in the globe, the globe Tango just ran in with Scar. Bigb knew too, he could feel it. He definitely didn't see it, but there was something in his heart that told him Tango died. Skizz wasn't even granted the time to mourn his friend before Scar was on him. There was relief when he saw Bigb trying to help him, and then guilt when he thought Bigb may fall like Tango did, to the person they were trying to befriend. When he made it out with barely any health, his only hope was that Bigb could make it out too. And, if his heart wasn't already broke when Tango died, it's definitely in shambles seeing the state of Heart Island. Bigb made it home, safe and scared and sad. He misses Tango and he wants to see Skizz, but with the warden lurking around, he doesn't know how to traverse the land safely. He's so scared and he can't help the slight anxiety bubbling in his chest. And he takes the risk to leave because he wants to find Skizz so bad (where is he where is he where is he). And he wants an alliance with others but he can't bring himself to trust anyone. And he can't even bring himself to trust Impulse who swears he knows where Skizz is. And- And there he is. He can hear him, he can see him and- and he's crying. And it's weird because he's never had this much trust in someone not to betray him in a moment of weakness but finally seeing his ally after they lost Tango and ran away from his murderer, he can't help but cry. And it just gets worse when he feels Skizz wrap his arms around him. "I wasn't ready to say goodbye." Skizz is the first to talk. "I didn't even get to be there for him." Bigb's sobs have calmed down into sniffles. They discuss plans and try to stay optimistic, but they can both feel it in the pits of their heart. It's an unspoken truth, they both know they won't win. People are coming, Martyn, Joel, Pearl. Too many faces. Bigb can feel the anxiety pooling in his chest again. "Scar sends his regards." Bigb can hear Joel some blocks away, and he knows he's talking to Skizz. He has to protect him, he can't let Skizz fall to someone allied with Tango's murderer. He turns around so quick he's dizzy but he doesn't falter, running as fast as he can to find Joel and Skizz. He makes it, and for a moment he thinks he can protect Skizz as he strikes Joel. CRACK!

He has to make it out alive. Bigb can't die here. Joel killed Skizz in Scar's name, he could do the same to Bigb. He can't die because of Scar. So he runs. Back to the only safe place he can think of. To his backrooms. It's creepy to anyone who hasn't been, but it's home to him. It's comfort. He has to kill someone, so he stands in place for his trap. "Hi Bigb!" Scar. The reason both of his allies are dead. Bigb has to kill him, he has to avenge them. He has to do something. But, instead of Scar coming down the stairs, it's creepers. He has no choice but to run into the backrooms. But Scar follows him. Follows him into his only safe space. He can't die here, so instead of avenging his allies, he blocks the entrance like a coward as an attempt to disappear into the backrooms. But he falls into a cave, surrounded by mobs. He's almost ready to accept his fate until he hears Scar, scared and confused by his backrooms, and he decides he cannot die here. It takes a while, but Scar leaves and Bigb is alone. He's alone and he's safe. And he's sad. He misses Skizz and Tango but this time, neither of them are alive for him to go find comfort in. He's low and he's scared but he has no choice but to leave. He makes it up into the backrooms and his heart drops to his stomach when he hears footsteps. It's just Scott. It's just Scott, and it's obvious he wants to kill Bigb. But Bigb doesn't want to die alone, with no one around to even consider helping. So, he makes an attempt to sweet talk his way out of it, which ends up working. He's alone again in the backrooms, but this time more on edge. CRACK! For a fraction of a second, he thinks he's the one who died. But he comes to his senses and checks his communicator to see Etho's name in grey. He's kind of relieved that him and his allies weren't picked off one right after another. He realizes he has to go to the surface. If he hides in the backrooms and let's everyone else get the kills, the last person will come find him and he won't stand a chance. CRACK! It happened so soon after he got to the surface and made eye contact with Scar Tango's murderer, that he thinks he's the one who died again. But again, he comes to his senses and hides before checking his communicator. Martyn's name is in grey and he feels a bit of relief. If he could just last a little longer and kill Tango's murderer. But he enderpearls to him. There's no time to think before he's being attack and he tries his best to fight back. He can't run anymore, with Tango's murderer attacking from one side and Scott from the other. "Bigb, I'm sorry." But he can tell Scott is the furthest thing from sorry. CRACK! And, this time, Bigb knows it's him. Cries bubble up in his ghostly throat, and in seconds he's coughing and choking, sobbing with all of his energy. He doesn't even have a physical body anymore, but he still hurts all over from crying. And, this time, he failed the first people he trusted until the very end. And, this time, he feels the intense guilt stabbing at his heart. And, this time, Skizz isn't there to comfort him. And, this time, he's alone.

[bagelvangr]

Randivor AU where Eivor never leaves Heillboer after the attack and Styrbjorn never gained the influence that he did.

Bear with me, this one needs quite a bit of exposition, I think!

(omfg 6k words, I am SO sorry, I am putting it under a cut. I'M SORRY I posted this at 4:30am and I was definitely already more than half-asleep!!)

–

After the attack, Gunnar speaks up for the clan and is extremely disappointed at how little Styrbjorn’s forces were able to help in a small, nighttime raid. Sure, it was a surprise and they were in the middle of a feast; but it seemed like something a jarl of Styrbjorn’s supposed caliber could have easily fought back against. They are thankful for the help and remain allies, but the trust and the allegiance had been forever fractured.

Gunnar takes guardianship of Eivor and rallied what remained of the bear clan to rebuild their homes.

They gladly do so; healing together as a community. Bound together in helping the remaining heir of their jarl recover from her vicious wounds; swearing to become stronger and self-reliant and never being taken by surprise ever again.

Eivor grows up learning the harsh truth of the world around her; the realities that faced their clan and the turmoil that grew all around Norway. She never bid for the jarl’s seat, she never had ambition to play as a leader in a seat.

Unspoken, everyone in Heillboer had no doubt that the seat was all Eivor’s. They don’t contest her claim at any point, nor do they force her to be the central ruler. Neither Gunnar nor Svala or anyone else that survived that night ever tried to place that burden upon the Wolf-Kissed. They were far too busy taking care of each other and building up what was lost.

When she was old enough to understand all that a longhouse and a jarl and the lineage of her birth implied; Eivor made the final decision to keep Heillboer to be defined as the clan. The bears at the north of Rygjafylke; rebuilt and strengthened by the trials put upon them in a treacherous world.

The scar of the wolves remain, but the call of the Allfather never truly awakens within her. The need for vengeance ran deep, and in her darkest moments, she faltered and thought of how to grant justice for all the wrongs done at the hands of others. She often found solace at the peak of Fannaraki Summit, a place she visited often to look upon their small settlement and to the seas just beyond their docks. She loved to climb and meditate for hours. To look all around and see the craggy fjords and how the snow remained undisturbed inland.

She knew that just eastward were where wolves had started to settle. She knew that Kjotve had built up a fortress right where their lands and Egdafylke bordered. She knew that the wolves were weakening with each season and harsh winter that went by, and if she so wished; she could end the lineage of an entire clan with a single night of battle by herself.

Eivor knew all of this and thought of it often when she sat at the top of the world. But with plenty of sighs and hours of stacking cairns in the memory of her parents – with the patience of her mother and the strength of her father; she always found herself climbing down and making her way back to Heillboer more resolute to never shed blood when there was home to go back to.

Patience and strength were what her parents imparted upon her.

Gunnar raised her to be dutiful, loyal, to build her own merit in the world. Svala had raised her to be tactful, wise, and kind.

A selfish need for vengeance endangered all of the core values that she built for herself and would have brought nothing but misery to the clan she sought to protect, and one that cared for and cultivated her unique strengths in return.

She had given up the longhouse for the whole of the clan, having settled in a small dwelling for herself close to the cave where she used to explore and play with her father and train with her mother.

Her efforts were focused on securing the safety of her people as Rygjafylke and Hordafylke grew more and more unstable; avoiding conflict in an increasingly bloodthirsty world and keeping a low profile as to not draw the attention of those seeking glory in or out of Norway. Their position at the border meant that she was able to intercept trade routes and secure exotic goods in trade for their artisan wares and rare cures, courtesy of Gunnar’s forge and the unmatched, sagacious knowledge of their young seer; inherited from the all-knowing Svala.

Slowly, more and more settlements and travelers learned of Heillboer. More and more sought a formal alliance with the clan of bears; once unable to do so for the lack of offering to secure such an alliance, many started to realize that there was no such fealty or lavish offering needed in return.

The bears had found wealth in forging their bonds amongst their clan and power in truly sharing what gave them strength: a community at the heart of Norway, driven by impressive frith and unburdened with ambition.

Eivor was their center, their beacon, their strength; but she was not the sole pillar they relied on. She strengthened them in every way, and they strengthened her in a way not easily emulated by others in a fundamentally different mindset.

*

Randvi had never really liked politics either.

Being the daughter of a jarl, however, it was something she could not easily avoid. Her father would plead with her and make her sit and study the long sessions he held with his advisors in the war room of their grand longhouse.

The reindeers were not a clan that could boast strength; but cunning and strategy led them to accumulate riches that afforded them more stability and power that a small clan could dream of.

Randvi, at any point in these political discussions would have gladly rather been practicing with her bow, fishing, hunting, sparring with her sister, her brother, the many vikingr training and preparing for their expeditions.

They enjoyed their fairly quiet life at Tromøya, taking advantage of their position between the Danes and Geats to diversify their economy despite their small seat in the larger picture of Egdafylke.

At one point; Randvi’s father had been more concerned about seeking alliances. In the great era of Ragnar’s travels, it became apparent that the divide in Norway meant that there were two paths to the survival of a clan: Those who wielded brute strength and sought glory turned vikingr to follow in Ragnar’s path; seeking other lands across the sea to settle as their own. Those that remained saw the opportunity in a fractured Norway, taking up the void in power to absorb clans and lands into their own. To survive was to find and secure strong alliances.

When Randvi was just about to be of age to be involved in these talks was when she started rebelling against her father’s wishes. She was the youngest and the most cherished out of her siblings, and her father had a particular weakness to her wishes. Whenever she happened to have been requested to accompany her father in so-called innocent travels to meet other jarls, Randvi would conveniently end up in a multi-day hunt or a week-long fishing trip on her boat. Her siblings would join and her mother encouraged her – though she did it to escape having to sit through politics and hearing men who barely cared to understand her or her family barter her future and potential away, she always came back with plenty of spoils. Whether it was hunted game, an abundance of fish, securing new trade routes or finding new cultures to send over to their island, Randvi still made sure her actions benefitted her family and her clan.

It was a habit that persisted into her adulthood. The conflicts in Rygjafylke had calmed and the vikingr came about less often, but her father still kept on meeting with those in the seats around them to better their relations. It shouldn’t have surprised her to hear that in one of these travels, her father had actually come quite close to securing an alliance with a jarl in Rygjafylke; the ravens of Fornburg were quite receptive to her father’s proposals. In particular, the jarl’s son had shown a hefty interest in the diversity of the travelers her father had told them frequented their harbours. The ravens did not have as much strength as they did before; the turmoil of the previous years getting to them too; in particular, they had trouble with the wolves and lost the alliance of most of the northern part of their border. But they were still a potential ally that held strong ties to the seat in Stavanger.

Randvi disappeared for almost two moons after learning the news.

She had taken to travel inland, seeking isolation from the circumstances of her birth, seeking connection with others in the smaller settlements leading up to the mountains. At one point, she saw a grand peak and took it upon herself to climb up there; not really caring for the harshness of the winter causing the snow to pile up and ignoring the constant burning in her limbs as she made her way up the steep, jagged rocks.

At the peak, she found serenity and silence. An impressive array of cairns were balanced right at the perfect flat surface; facing a small village at the end of the endless valley below.

She was not the only one to find this place and take a refreshing breath away from the turmoil of everything else.

It was almost nighttime when she decided to finally descend. The sky had been lit by a fantastic river of greens and blues, specked by the occasional purples and reds. The gods would light her way down.

She had told no one but Kiarr where she was going; which meant that if anyone else knew of her whereabouts, it would be Thora, who would encourage her to find her own way instead of be bound to the wills of their father.

So when Randvi returned to Tromøya, it was with great surprise she could not suppress when she heard that Thora had agreed to an alliance that her father had secured.

And not to the ravens, but to the wolves close to the region she had just spent her time sulking away at the prospect of being tied to a man – to politics, to strategize, advise, to build and protect and not be thanked.

Thora only smiled at her and reassured her that it was completely her choice; that she had wanted to bring stability and power to their seat too, and that perhaps this was what would stabilize and give respect to the reindeer once and for all.

So in the following years when Kiarr had ended up leaving Tromøya; when Thora had suddenly reappeared in their longhouse again; when their father spent nights apologizing to his children and their mother giving comfort and promising them they would never need to fulfill any duties to their clan ever again; Randvi steeled herself and swore that she would not play the game of politics.

The fragile jarls of Norway could have their power grabs and petty wars; the reindeers and her family would find stability in ventures not involving strife and blood.

She doubled her efforts in listening more to what happened around the harbour; to the tales being regaled in the taverns, to the fleeting conversations of key movements of armies and traders all around the Nordic world.

Thankfully, it seemed that their only threat would be if the Danes decided to launch an attack onto them; but it seemed as if they were more preoccupied with exploring new lands beyond the seas to think of invading and attacking their neighbours.

Slowly, they grew more stable, but she was also aware of the growing influence of Harald in the north and how he was making his intent to rule all of Norway by allying or absorbing each clan he came across.

The reindeer found themselves in a strange position of safety; her father being a cousin of Harald’s own father, thereby related to a degree. There was a small sense of comfort that the Yngling’s first target would not necessarily be the reindeers.

They weren’t fools though, and Randvi had grown to be quite the tactician with all of the information she was able to gather. Her rebellious streak and desire to partake in activities that other nobles cared little for made her popular with the other clan members and she carried an easy, charismatic relationship with almost all of the merchants that frequented their island with trade.

She knew that even if they didn’t seek any official alliances and even if they were willing to let Harald take official rule of their land; they had no guarantees under the new rule and far too much ambiguity about resolving disputes between clans to not at least attempt to bolster their connections with the borders they held.

To the east was already Harald’s territory, and to the west was Rygjafylke; so to the west it was.

The wolves were no longer an option, having quite a history with her siblings. There were the ravens which never officially denied or absolved the possibility of an alliance; but from what she heard, Fornburg had less influence over their region now, especially with the son of the jarl perpetually away in other lands. It was more likely that the ravens would be enthusiastically absorbed into Harald’s plan than be interested in allying with another smaller clan in a unified Norway.

That left really one clan within their borders, and it was definitely one that intrigued her.

Just beyond the summit she remembered so clearly in her mind was the settlement of the bear clan.

Randvi had heard frequent tales of the bears and of Heillboer. They came off more as fantastical sagas; myths that could not possibly be. The bear clan held stability and influence and were able to fend off attempts of absorption by far more powerful clans without a jarl to lead them through it all.

But Randvi knew. She listened. She observed and made the connections. She knew of the Wolf-kissed. She knew about the tragedy that befell and nearly wiped the small settlement. She knew that although the bears claimed no jarl, that they would follow the Wolf-kissed to the ends of the earth, but that they would never be asked to carry such a burden.

The Wolf-kissed held a soft power that was far more impressive than any amount of bannermen could ever rally.

It was an unbreakable claim of frith; a community that truly held each other together.

If there was to be stability within the reindeers in the change to come in Norway, they had to approach it with as little visibility and as much subtlety as possible. They didn’t need a show of strength or to hold a large region. No, they needed alliance and true connections with a clan that understood and fundamentally operated in much the same as their own.

Randvi would approach her father and suggest they seek an alliance, much to the jarl’s (and the rest of her family’s) surprise. They were all left stunned when she further explained that she sought to approach the bear clan without a show of force.

The jarl would consider Randvi's suggestion. He was skeptical of the benefits and the truth of the myths. Surely a clan so well known as being without a leader would have been overtaken by another and forcibly absorbed into their own. He would be careful.

Four fine warriors and two of their most knowledgeable ledgers would make journey into the mountainous path. They would bring rare metals found in the exotic trades made between Rus and the Celts. They would bring fine herbs and crops only found in climates far warmer than their own. Surely the winters had been harsh on them as well.

He expected them to come back with new information, but he was not prepared for them to return in jovial spirits, regaling the longhouse with tales of a lone warrior that hunted and fended for their clan. The same warrior was mentioned again and again as the ones to assess the new party and introduce them to the variety of trade that existed there.

The same warrior that caught the favour of Ran and Njord, the abundance of fish they caught despite the frigid waters almost mythical in the way they told it.

It was not said explicitly, but the jarl already knew that this warrior was the one who took the seat of leader with the bears. Why they never took the title of jarl was a mystery he wanted to find out.

Randvi, ever the observant one, caught and analyzed every word. She was pleased to have her suspicions confirmed.

The crew that were sent to Heillboer were a fine bunch, but she had also heard of small raids and attacks in the villages in-between; the wolves in turmoil with their own and with others that passed through. Many were desperate and a decorated yet minimal crew from a clan known for their rich trade should not have passed so effortlessly.... would not have passed so effortlessly. She had heard of a lone warrior patrolling the mountains and the borders, allowing for the safe passage of those on the trade routes without their knowledge.

Putting it together, she concluded that it must be the same person. The one that refused the official title of jarl ensured the prolonged safety of their people, and assured the safe passage of the members of her clan.

For the next stage of her plan, she surprised her father yet again by offering to go by herself.

She did not surprise Thora or her mother when they learned that she had not even waited for the permission of the jarl; having immediately set out the night before with the help of someone that looked suspiciously like Kiarr.

*

It started off slow.

Randvi allowed herself to be selfish in her lone trek. The weather had been fair, and while there had been storms in the moons before, the sun was more forgiving on her way to Heillboer.

She had indulged herself and made her way up beyond a lake and onto the same peak she had been at years before. She knew that the trek down into the settlement in the distance would not take her more than half a day, but she felt strangely empty handed as she finally saw the longhouse in her line of sight.

When she made her way down from the summit, she prepared her bow as she approached the tree line, keeping an eye on any game that might be small enough for her to carry alone and present as a gift. Actual reindeer had been abundant in the area, grazing on the new green exposed by a small patch of sunlight melting the snow away.

She gauged that the settlement had to be fairly close; she was nearly level with the sea where she was at. Feeling like she had quite a bit of energy still, she set her ambition a little higher and tracked a juvenile reindeer – one that she would likely have a little trouble carrying by herself, but not so much that it would encumber her and prevent her from presenting the kill as a gift as she arrived into the town.

Carefully moving through the rocks and avoiding making too much noise in the crunching snow, Randvi took aim and shot an arrow straight into the neck of her prey. Unfortunate timing meant that the animal had turned its head slightly before the arrow pierced, so it was not a clean kill. Randvi would quickly fire off another arrow, but as good of a shot as she was, she couldn’t predict the movements of a thrashing, panicked animal.

The second arrow dug itself into the back of the reindeer and it ran off into the crag away from her view.

Having scared off all the others, Randvi knew she had to track it and at the very least not prolong its suffering. It seemed to have gone uphill, but at least it went in the general direction of Heillboer instead of away. Perhaps she had a chance still of arriving with a gift.

*

Eivor had found it all quite amusing. She had been sat at the hill close to Valka's when she noticed someone she had never seen before passing through the eastern crag. They had their bow held the ready, eyes scanning the grazing herds. She assumed she was looking for a target that would be easy to carry. She didn't see a horse or any companions with the woman.

When she had crouched low by the rocks, Eivor was skeptical that her shot would land. The reindeer she had set her eyes on were quite far and slightly uphill from where this hunter was.

It surprised her that when she fired an arrow, it not only connected solidly into the animal's neck, but the hunter was also able to quickly adjust her aim when the reindeer started to move.

Even though it was not a swift one shot kill, she would have expected any other hunter to have completely miss when the reindeer started to move.

She kept watching, the skill displayed fully catching her attention. She witnessed a second shot swiftly sent off as the reindeer rounded the rocks; and though she expected yet another miss here, she raised an impressed eyebrow when the second arrow pierced the back of the prey.

The animal had escaped the hunter's line of sight, but she had shown great skill already. Whoever this was had years of experience with a bow and was not someone to be underestimated.

From her vantage, she tracked the staggering animal as it made its way around the rough hills, all the while tracking and observing the hunter getting closer and closer to Heillboer.

It was hard to fully assess her from the distance, but Eivor could note fine, thick furs, an embroidered caplet and a subdued but tastefully decorated overtunic that did not bother to hide status to those who knew.

The spark of fire in her hair made it easy for Eivor to spot her in the backdrop of the white snow and black rocks; and as she made her way to the injured animal, she made a mental note to get to know the hunter a bit more if their paths crossed.

If they were half a good of a tracker as they were an archer, then Eivor was convinced they'd cross paths.

*

And so they did.

When Eivor first turned around, she had been in the middle of digging out the arrowhead in the reindeer's spine.

She expected to have to explain herself and say that she had no intent on stealing the hunter's kill, but she was surprised to observe that the hunter had no malice or wariness in their voice or demeanour.

The hunter stood relaxed, watching Eivor as she spoke. The hunter's clothes definitely did tell her that this was someone born into wealth, not necessarily someone she'd expect to have such prowess with a bow.

Curious of all, the way she spoke almost made it seem like she had planned for Eivor to have seen her to begin with.

Of course, to Randvi, that would have been the ideal situation. She made no attempts at concealing herself on her path to Heillboer. She made no attempts at hiding her status or her skills. She had expected to arrive into the settlement without any fanfare, but her ideal situation was actually close to unfolding right in front of her.

Randvi wanted Eivor to see her. She wanted Eivor be able to have enough time to be aware of her and gauge her skills as she hunted. She wanted to make the Wolf-kissed curious about her, and if she was being honest, there was a part of her that wishes she had found herself in danger with either bandits or with predators in the area just so she could see how the Wolf-kissed would react. Would she be left to her own devices? Would she be assessed in her ability to fend off danger? Would the Wolf-kissed jump in and help her without context on who she was? She knew she would be safe, but she wanted to experience the tales of the Wolf-kissed first hand.

How much would Eivor actually be able to tell about her just from these observations alone?

Eivor, to her credit, was able to tell quite a bit. She confirmed the details she noticed from afar.

Thick, clean furs. A fine capelet and finer embroidery on her over tunic. A small hatchet on her side, holstered in artisan leatherwork. The hunter's hands were exposed to the air, a handful of cloudberries in her palm. Braided red hair framed her face; the warm sun and the glow of the mostly undisturbed snow around them giving Eivor a brilliant chance to get captured in blue-green eyes that showed confidence and relaxed amusement. This woman was not threatened by their interaction, but clearly did not underestimate Eivor's capabilities.The hand that remained at her side playing at another holstered weapon Eivor had not yet had a chance to identify.

When their gaze met, Eivor found an equally analytic warrior looking straight at her with no attempt to hide what she had been doing.

There was a sense of knowing and familiarity there.

To both of them, they didn't feel like strangers meeting for the first time. It didn't feel like they needed to guard or hide themselves to each other or feel like they had to leverage status or make small talk about politics a d trade.

Eivor launched immediately into asking why Randvi had been travelling alone when their clan's party had just departed the settlement not a fortnight past. Randvi asked how Eivor knew she was in the same clan as them and Eivor could only respond with a genuine smile and the reply of, "They spoke rather highly of you".

Randvi smiled at that and replied right back, "I'm sure it's nothing compared to what I hear of you".

*

Randvi's expedition was well received in Heillboer. She would find all of her doubts about the myth surrounding the settlement and the bear clan to be cleared away. They thrived without a show of force because they made no claims to what was not theirs and because they relied on each other in times of hardship.

Eivor had ended up carrying the reindeer back into the settlement upon her own insistence and the clan members at the longhouse happily received it.

Randvi noted the lack of throne and grand chambers and let herself truly understand the implication of a self-ruling community.

She would spend the rest of winter in Heillboer, at first happily staying in the longhouse to observe all of the comings and goings of the clan and how they resolved their issues amongst their peers.

She would go on hunts and fishing trips with Eivor, who frequently invited her along for any and all activity.

It should have alarmed her how easily she felt she slotted into their community and into the companionship of Eivor, but she realized that this was exactly how a clan without a jarl would be able to survive so long.

The genuine connection had multiplied into magnitudes she did not even realize until she found herself hiking with Eivor one day to Fannaraki Summit.

She had learned that Eivor, much like herself, found no value in ambitious glory and making alliances with clans that would be as eager to drive a blade into your gut as they are to forge so-called bonds in a single night.

Randvi had understood all of a sudden as she sat next to Eivor carefully stacking stones and talking about what she remembered of her mother that she truly had no need to propose an alliance to Eivor or the bear clan. She realized that Eivor and the rest of Heillboer had been measuring her merit as a person from the moment they met her.

As she handed a rock over to Eivor to slowly and carefully balance on the stack, Randvi truly understood that she had been accepted before she even knew many in the clan. She knew that Eivor had assessed her from a distance and decided to befriend her before taking her to the rest of the bears. Randvi realized that perhaps she wanted to come alone because she wanted to know how she would be perceived if she presented herself as genuinely as possible instead of someone that had something beneficial to obviously offer the clan.

She knew that Eivor had accepted her. Knew that if they ran into trouble, she would protect her. Knew that she met everyone that she did because Eivor's company calmed any anxiety around a stranger walking in their community. She knew that they would all treat her with the same respect they did now no matter if Eivor was around or not, but it certainly was in her favour that Eivor took a liking to her so early. Randvi knew that an alliance would not need to be made official here.

Still, as Randvi listened to Eivor's retelling of her memories, of her parents, of a Heillboer from before, the more Randvi wanted to hear even more of the Wolf-kissed's history. At some point in her stay, she became less concerned about joining their clans together and what that could imply and found herself wanting to hear Eivor talk about anything and everything.

Randvi wanted to share herself too; to let Eivor know of her past and her family and her way of viewing the world around them. She hoped Eivor mirrored her want to know of each other and craved to listen as she did; even to spend time quietly alone together as she did.

Later on, when Randvi asks if she could stay anywhere else in Heillboer that wasn't the longhouse, Eivor would not hesitate to invite her to her home and Randvi was eager to accept.

*

When Thora arrived at the dock a moon later, she felt no surprise to see Randvi and Eivor approach together.

What did surprise her and what she pressed her sister on was the fact that they came out of Eivor's single room dwelling together. That they retired for the day at the same time as each other and went back at the same dwelling. That when one or the other went out to sail or fish or even go for a small walk, it was nearly always with each other.

It seems that relations between their clans had successfully been secured and her baby sister was enjoying the time in freedom of doing what she wanted with the security of not having to sneak around or feel as is she was being improper or endangering her family and the clan.

Thora was perceptive in her own right and while she was relieved she didn't have to protect her baby sister; she saw clear as day how subtly protective Eivor was of Randvi. She did feel slightly neglected when it was clear that Randvi preferred to spend her time with Eivor instead of her. She understood, of course, and the implications filled her heart with warmth and joy, she couldn't help but call out and tease Randvi about her new found passion.

To both of the reindeer women's surprise, Eivor did not shy away or get flustered by the topic; confirming without a doubt how she felt and what she wished for their clans and for her own personal relationship with a certain hunter that caught her attention so many months before.

Though she had yet to meet the rest of their clan and they had yet to come up with a plan on how to take on the dangers that faced them in the future of their country and beyond, Eivor made it very clear that her intent was for both of their clans to be intertwined and prosper, grow and expand together in more ways than one and on levels from personal to the dreaded political.

They would face the hardships of relentless winter storms, of social turmoil with their neighbours, with attempted raids on their lands keeping their physical prowess sharp and ready. They would face decisions they couldn't been to anticipate at where they stood then, but it was very clear.

The reindeer of Tromøya had found unity, solidarity, and an unbelievable match in values with the bears of Heillboer.

The future of Norway remained uncertain, but their two clans would find stability, peace, and safety in the years to come.

[khaotic-by-nature]

Where Wounds Heal

After a brutal encounter with Mileena, Erron Black is left with severe injuries. Ermac, filled with worry, tends to Erron's wounds with meticulous care, though he's plagued by a sense of failure for not being able to protect his ally. Erron, ever the resilient mercenary, tries to lighten the mood with his laid-back demeanour, even as pain courses through him. However, Ermac can't shake the turmoil of emotions swirling within him, feeling responsible for Erron's suffering.

He knows it’s an inevitable part of their line of work, but that doesn’t make it any easier. His hands trembled, and his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

Ermac carefully examined Erron's injury after unwrapping it for cleaning. Erron's strong, calloused hands lay limp in his grasp, the once gaping wound now clotted and beginning to heal. But it hadn’t been a pretty sight—Mileena's sai had struck deep, leaving a jagged slash across his forearm. Just another scar to add to the dozens, Erron might have thought. Ermac's fingertips brushed lightly against the edge of the wound, his brows furrowed in concentration.

The faint scent of the herbal salve filled the air, mixing with the iron tang of dried blood. Erron’s eyes were half-lidded, his breathing shallow as he tried to mask the pain, but Ermac could sense the agony rippling beneath the surface. It gnawed at him, making his souls twist with guilt and helplessness.

"Hey now," Erron's voice cut through the silence, a low drawl meant to soothe. "Ya don’t need to dwell on that too much, alright? I’ve had worse, and this ain’t even the last of it." There was a casualness to his words, an attempt to play down the situation, but Ermac knew better. He could feel the undercurrent of exhaustion and pain that Erron was hiding behind that easy grin.

Ermac gave a quiet hum, his tone clipped with unspoken worry. "Yes, perhaps we should focus on cleaning the wound and redressing it for now." He could feel the torrent of emotions swirling within him—dread, frustration, sadness—but pushed them down as he worked with meticulous care. He was used to seeing pain, used to causing it, but seeing Erron hurt like this… it was different.

The silence stretched as Ermac finished the treatment, securing the knot on the bandage with a precise flick of his fingers. He leaned back, finally letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He could only hope the wound would heal properly this time.

Just as he turned to slip his gloves back on, he felt Erron’s eyes on him, the weight of that gaze heavy enough to make him pause.

“Ermac,” Erron called, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. The way he said his name sent a strange warmth through Ermac’s chest. He turned slowly, meeting those intense brown eyes, but quickly dropped his gaze, feeling an uncharacteristic vulnerability in that moment.

Erron’s hand shot out, firm and warm as it gripped Ermac’s shoulder, forcing him to stay. “Why ya tryin’ to push away from me? You plannin’ on avoidin' me now?” The hurt in Erron's voice tugged at something deep within him, something he couldn’t quite understand.

Ermac blinked, his many souls roiling with confusion. Avoid him? His eyes flickered with an array of emotions before he settled on speaking. “That is not our intention, Erron Black. We believe we have failed in protecting you—an ally, a friend.” The word 'friend' felt strange on his tongue. “It does not bring us joy to feel this way,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Our souls are restless with thoughts we cannot quite comprehend.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, the air heavy with unspoken words. Erron’s thumb brushed over Ermac’s shoulder, a comforting gesture that only made Ermac’s heart beat faster, confusion mixing with something softer, warmer.

Erron let out a chuckle, low and warm, breaking the tension. “Ya know, it's kinda cute how much ya care for me. Ya afraid I’ll see ya goin’ soft on me, big bad mercenary?” His words were teasing, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that Ermac wasn’t used to seeing.

A rush of heat filled Ermac’s face, and he quickly averted his gaze, fumbling with his gloves. “If you are done laughing at our expense,” he grumbled, his tone sharper than he intended, “we shall take our leave now. We advise you to rest and not wander around until your injuries heal completely.”

“Well, shoot, course I will, partner,” Erron said with a mock salute, still chuckling. But then, as if to remind them both of his fragility, he twisted his hand the wrong way—

“Ah! Sunnova— that hurt like a mule kick—!!!”

Ermac’s heart leaped into his throat. “By Argus—!” He was at Erron’s side in an instant, his hands cradling Erron’s injured arm with a care that bordered on desperation. His breaths came faster as he searched for any sign of reopened wounds. “Are you okay? It does not look like it started bleeding—do you feel—”

But his voice faltered as he noticed the way Erron was staring at him, brown eyes soft and searching. It was like Erron was looking for something hidden within the depths of his many souls. Ermac’s hands stilled, that familiar panic rising. He tried to pull back, but Erron’s grip tightened, keeping him close.

“Ermac…” Erron’s voice was rough, tinged with something Ermac couldn’t quite place. “I don’t know if ya get this, but ya mean a helluva lot to me. More than just as a partner in battle.” The words were raw, honest, sending a shiver down Ermac’s spine.

Ermac felt like he was on the edge of a precipice, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. “We… we do not understand—” he began, but Erron’s calloused thumb brushed against his knuckles, a silent plea.

“I ain’t askin’ ya to understand,” Erron murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through Ermac’s very core. “I’m just askin’ ya to let me in. Let me care for ya like ya do for me.” His grip softened, and he took a step back, letting Ermac breathe. “I appreciate everything ya done for me, truly.”

Ermac could only stare, feeling a warmth spreading from his chest to his fingertips. The confusion was still there, but so was a strange sense of comfort. He nodded, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps… this is what friends do, yes?”

Erron’s grin was bright, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous glint. “Darn tootin’.”

For a moment, the world seemed to slow, the only sound the quiet hum of their breaths mingling in the small room. And then, with a final nod, Ermac turned to leave, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. Perhaps there was something to be said about letting someone in, after all.

[clemencetaught]

quinn. ➜ One of the most important parts of being a vigilante comes not from the weapons wardrobe. It comes not from weapons arsenal either. It doesn’t even come from knowing who will help you. No, the most important aspect for any vigilante is one of mindset: keeping calm under pressure. 

No amount of planning or foresight can ever guarantee one’s safety or success. And if it’s a small team like Team Checkmate ( as Nell has affectionately dubbed them ) with few resources and even fewer allies in the underbelly of Seoul’s crime scene, plans will almost always go awry. It takes a cool head and a sharp eye to find the solution out of a, one might say, precarious situation. 

That and Alfred drilled it into Myungdae’s head. Always watch for the legs. Eyes open, soldier. Lose your cool and you might as well give the opponent the grenade. 

Well, that’s probably not going to apply here is it? Myungdae would like to revise that last statement to something more like: lose your cool and you become the grenade. Quinn and the entirety of the Black Fang for that matter, are taking the saying quite literally. His sword remains in its sheath, however as he spies the knives glinting on her persona. If he has to fight, then his opponent will most likely be a speedy lightweight.

( And here Alfred said using a sword in this day and age was archaic. )

She might be looking for a fight, looking to get the eyes of the rich and the powerful on her just as the rest of the Black Fang seem intent on doing these days ( somehow Myungdae has a feeling she has something to do with this aggressive approach they’ve recently adapted ), but not Myungdae. The Black Fang has the luxury of status and resources within the underworld, enough to rival those of the real enemy- one crime scene left behind isn’t going to land them behind.

The Black Knight, however, does not have this luxury. Success, by the top hat figure’s standard, isn’t measured by the amount of carnage left behind either.

The thought of that alone is enough to make him grimace. “And how would you know that, hm? Those civilians won’t be happy or sad about your ‘achievement’ if they’re dead.” That and anyone who fights for an ideal is one to be wary of: the fanatics. Those are the reckless ones. The one who will fight until they are either the last ones standing or dead. The ones who use the ends to justify the means.

( That’s why the accident from five faithful years ago, was covered up: all in the name of progress. )

An ideal, after all, is intangible, one of fiction. And how often does fiction fail one, in comparison to REALITY? His earpiece creaks. “Myungdae, the ceremony’s gonna wrap up soon-” Nell, on edge, whispers.

His hand wraps around the handle of his blade. “I think our definitions of justice are quite different, Miss Quinn. I, for one, don’t consider it a victory if lives are taken.” If Team Checkmate is even looking for justice to begin with- the newspaper and the people say that’s what the Black Knight is fighting for, but fiction never quite matches reality, does it? The Black Knight is not the elusive figure seeking justice or truth. The Black Knight is not an outlaw looking to make trouble with the law either. The Black Knight isn’t even an all-seeing, invincible figure either.

What does that make the Black Knight then?

( Myungdae dreads the answer. He prefers to think of masked smiles, and shroud-covered eyes, of unspoken words and aches that no amount of time seems to heal, only makes scar tissue out of. )

“...You’re not blowing this place up,” he says finally. Decisively too. Truly, a fight is the last thing that he needs right now, but when has the Black Knight shied away from protecting those who need it most?  “You talk about honor and justice as if you are making the sacrifice, but if you are not the one paying the price, I won’t stand here and abet your agenda.”

“I say it’s an honor to meet you and that’s what you reply to me with? Ughh. And here I was hoping for you to be a little more fun than the legends say, mmm, we are Not going to be friends Nighty.” Quinn replies with an overly exaggerated dramatic tone as it is always part of her games. Her eyes however, are telling a whole different story. If the female vigilante was usually playing around her half seductive, half nonchalent yawning and fake-manicuring her nails while trash talking her enemies for fun - here, she is tense. Agitated. Jittery. Disturbed. There is a ticking clock in her head, banging against her skull, words hammered into her mind as another side of her psyche is awekening, eating her bones from the inside. It’s your duty, it’s your duty, it’s your duty. We’re running out of time. We have to teach a lession. It’s now or never. Kill him. Kill him. Get rid of him. Move. Hurry. MOVE.

“Shut it.”

She speaks to herself on a sharp tone, half shouted, half whispered, closing her eyes for a second, breathing in and out, her hands shaking, clenching around her daggers as she opens her eyes again, wide open- her pupils skipping to one side then to the other, before looking back at him again. To face the Black Knight in this key moment is either a drag or a bless. Quinn knows she has to focus, to nagivate through the fires inside her head as if dancing between two realms of anchored in this reality and drawn in a foreign madness. He is here for a reason too. One it would be useful for her to hear about, to witness. After years of sharing the scene, while Quinn remains in the dark enough for the Knight to perhaps not know enough of her - she, on the opposite heard all the tales. To share the ground with another masked one meant something. That the city they are living in has lost faith in its authorities, craving a self made justice - and the two of them, now reunited in this room are the symbol of that, willing to put their lives on the line for their mission. However, That mission. Was it the same? Quinn starts walking, to the side in a circle, bent, her hands not leaving her weapon, expecting him to do the same, to mirror it - like two wrestlers around a ring ; she wants to see how he moves. Who will strike first? He is prepared for the situation to escalate in the same way she is but Not without a talk first. The vigilante does know the Knight fights with a sword which she always found funky yet not to underestimate : a good swordsman is to her a disadvantage. Her skills rely on close combat, which, became rare she believes on today’s underground scene. Many of their opponent gangs for example are heavy on the guns, mostly men believing they simply had to be strong and heavy enough to win a fist fight and often found themselves taken by surprise by her speed, and flexibity. Quinn is a stratetic fighter - aware of her light weight , she doesn’t’ strike when not necessary, she waits for the right angle, the right opening and she slices once, in a piece of skin she knows can provoke either neuralgic pain or hemorragia .“I have heard stories about you, Black Knight. One with a hat and a sword who moves in the night.” Quinn starts, still moving, slowly as her eyes are on him. “Oh I had sooo many questions. Wondering. What could this man possibly want?” As she narrates, her voice oscillates, up and down, like a story teller, her face ; animated, almost possessed by her speech. “Fight the bad guys, just like me? I wanted to believe that. I started fantasizing then, of a world where I wouldn’t be the only one, hiding in the dark, craving to make this city a little less shittier. Greedy to finally, FINALLY, bring it, serve it on a plate to society : JUSTICE. To PROVE THAT the rulers of this world wear the same names as the persecutors and that TOMORROW, they will fall.” Her eyes narrow, her intense, cat like eyes that reflect the dimmed light of the moon through the open windows in the empty hotel room. “But here I am, facing you, listening to you blabbering about Civilians? Wooooow. Don’t you see these civilians would be more than happy? HONORED! To contribute to what I am about to accomplish here?” She clenches her jawline, her pupils, darkening. “I’m realizing… Was that Naive of me? To imagine us all, you, me, all of us, running in the night, UNITING to do what we are Meant to do? So tell me before I blow aaaaall of this up. Tell me you’ve come for Justice.” Quinn finally questions, this time, taking her dagger fully out of her harness, pointing it straight at him.

[honey-everythingisonfire]

not my usual mo, but bear with me, i have soldier lilia brainrot and there’s not enough equal ground between lilia x readers or immortal fae happiness for the old man. forgot this was originally an ask, but if anyone else wants to do a hot take go ahead.

imagine:

enemies to resentful allies to mutual respect to friends that snark at each other to “oh shit, someone hurt you, only i can do that, i will now burn the world for what they did” to lovers with lilia vanrouge.

selkie!not-yet-his-s/o is a commander of some sort for the enemy army, the two frequently clashed during battles and despised each other. after the war is over and the kingdoms make peace, the two constantly have verbal fights during ceremonies together.

sometime down the line, another kingdom comes along, challenges the now allied kingdoms, both are sent out as commanders due to their skills and realize the other actually has a lot of skill in planning? and cares about their troops? and regularly throws themselves into the front line to protect their soldiers? and, huh, they never realized how stunning the other was when taking charge.

and as the war drags on, they begin turning into something like friends. and they see each other at their worst and continue to snark each other, but make sure they are cared for. and then the late night chats begin where they spill secrets and maybe something is happening? who knows, theres a war, we can sort it out later.

and then somehow, the enemy takes down lilia and s/o, captures them and puts them in iron cages. lilia barely has enough strength to get himself out, but not s/o. in desperation to get him to save himself, s/o gives lilia their pelt, as a promise that the fae will find and save them, and an unspoken confession, should they never see each other again. (whether lilia knows that selkies giving their pelts to someone = unequivocally giving their heart to them is up to you to imagine)

lilia becomes desperate to get them back, and works round the clock to find them, destroying enemy fortresses and bases, all while wearing their pelt. and after months of searching, he finds them, half dead from being tortured for months, broken and scarred, maybe missing an eye, maybe a leg, maybe an arm, laying chained up in an iron cage. but there is no force in the world that can stop him now, as he breaks the cage and whisks his s/o away as the base below them crumbles. s/o only smiles and then passes out in his arms.

lilia ends up staying beside then the whole time they are in recovery, the war ends, and when they finally wake up, there is a nonverbal confession, as lilia passes back the selkie pelt (a sign of trust that their beloved stay with them of their own free will).

they can kiss, if you want.

[oneoftheextras]

Day 1 | Benimaru Shinmon | kinktober 2021

kinktober 2021 masterlist

1st October - Blindfolding

paring: benimaru shinmon x f!reader

summary: being new to company 8 meant you hadn’t had the chance to meet any of their allied fire force soldiers. 

what better way to introduce yourself to company 7′s captain than at a masquerade-esque festival? 

words: 4.3k

a/n: i had to do a bit of research into traditional japanese fall festivals, if i got any information incorrect please dm me and let me know - also, i westernised the festival a tad to make it more in-line with halloween.

warnings: 18+, smut, blindfolding, unprotected smut, small injury but no gore

                                     day two | orgasm denial | keishin ukai →

Asakusa was a traditional town. Every resident knew each other on a personal level, to the point where they knew if someone was a visitor.

That’s why you felt so out of place standing on the stone courtyard with the rest of Company 8.

It would seem that regardless of the eccentric masks covering everyone’s face, it was obvious that you and the rest of your Company were not from Asakusa. It made an uncomfortable notion settle in your stomach.

“Relax!” Obi rubbed a hand in between your shoulders to reassure you, “We were invited, by the face you’re making you’d think you’re gate-crashing!” he chuckled warmly.

When you gazed up at the large man, you noticed that he was doing the same motion to Iris - she must be scared too. “It feels like we are.” you mumbled as you played with the ribbon of your mask.

This party heavily resembled a masquerade ball, but Hinawa had scorned you when you called it that - you definitely weren’t to say that when you were around Asakusa natives. 

Iris’ eyes found yours and you shared a worried glance, “Go and get a drink, then you’ll feel better.” Obi’s hands pushed the two of you forward gently.

In that moment, an unspoken pact between you and Iris was made, one that said ‘Stick together for the whole night so we’re not alone’.

The courtyard was a swirl of oranges, browns, yellows, and shades of blacks. Company 8 called it Halloween, but Company 7 did things differently - this was Tsukimi, a celebration to honour the autumn moon.

Seasonal vegetables and produce stood in the centre of the courtyard on a large circular table, every now and then you would spot another member of the village placing susuki or kaki down on the table, only to be swept away into the crowd of dancers immediately after.

“What’s all that?” you covered your mouth that you’d just stuffed with rice dumplings so you wouldn’t spit it all over Iris, and pointed to the table with the other, “That’s their offerings to the autumn moon,” she smiled gently.

Nodding in understanding, you swallowed the rice mush, “Should we have brought something of our own? You know, as an offering?” panic shot through you at the thought of being rude at such a well respected festival.

“The Captain and Lieutenant have already done that, on behalf of Company 8.”. Almost as though speaking it had made it happen, you spotted the two men attempting to make their way to the table through the sea of moving people while carrying pumpkins.

A stifled laugh came from you as you tried not to choke on your food. Hinawa was being his usual sensible self by having a pumpkin in each hand; Obi, however, was carrying at least 8 of them by himself.

You could almost see the fear in his eyes at the thought of dropping one of them.

“Enjoying the festivities?” a gentle voice came from behind where the two of you were hiding. “Very much!” Iris nodded politely while you tried to compose yourself, although his approach wasn’t sudden, it still made you jump.

Turning your body towards the sound, you realised it was Lieutenant Konro when he moved his dark blue mask, “It’s very beautiful, Sir.” you agreed with your friend and politely bowed to the older man.

Although you’d never officially met any other Company’s yet, you’d been told about Konro before arriving and the huge scar across his nose was a big enough give away as to who this man was.

“No need for formalities, my dear, I don’t believe we’ve met?” he returned your bow and left the statement open for you to introduce yourself, which you took. “Ah, you’re Company 8′s new girl!” Konro smiled at the realisation as to who he was speaking with.

“Yup, this is my first outing!” you shily giggled, feeling a weird sense of calm when around the Lieutenant.

It was kind of ironic, the first time you would meet another company would be while you were all masked and unrecognisable.

Konro extended his hand to you with his palm facing upwards, his head bowed ever so slightly, “Then let me welcome you properly, would you care to dance?”.

Well, I can’t say no? That would be rude!

When you slipped your hand into his, he looked up through his eyelashes and smiled. He pushed his mask back up his nose and lead you wordlessly towards the ring of people.

The beat of the music was hard to keep up with, but Konro spun, pulled and lifted you in every which direction so you didn’t have much control over where your body went. Thankfully, it hid the fact you didn’t know what you were doing.

After a little while he seemed to get tired, rubbing his shoulders and moving them in small circles, “Are you okay?” you started to ask, seeing the tinge of pain in his expression.

“Getting old Konro, don’t exert yourself.” a deep voice came behind you, it was not one that you recognised.

When you turned to face him -you presumed they were a him- it didn’t help, his mask was plain black but it had a thin veil over his eyes, you wondered how he could properly see.

Even more surprisingly was the tone he had with the Lieutenant, “Maybe you can take my place,” Konro smiled fondly and gestured his hand openly towards you. Without being able to see the other man, you felt his eyes judging your appearance.

“I’d rather not,” he turned his head away as though he was pretending you didn’t exist, “Don’t be rude to our guest!” Konro’s tone became more authoritative.

There was a small silence. “You know I can’t dance.” the stranger was struggling to get out of this, “Never can she.” Konro countered.

Okay, ouch!

“He’s not wrong!” you laughed, trying to include yourself in the conversation instead of standing on the side lines gormlessly, this time he turned to face you.

A heavy sigh left his mouth, he had admitted defeat by taking hold of your hand, “Go and rest!” he shouted behind him as he lead you back to the crowd of dancers.

The first few minutes were awkward to say the least. He wasn’t as elegant as Konro but he was twice, if not thrice, as strong - and he definitely could dance.

When he launched you into the air it felt like he was propelling you into space, if it wasn’t for his tight grip then you’d never be seen again. Becoming one with the aliens.

It was fun though. Just like Konro, he took the lead, and it seemed as though the majority of these routines were male led. Probably because of the amount of lifting they required, you doubt you could lift this man despite the heavy training Obi made you do every day.

“Who are you?” his voice cut through the crescendo of the music, “Why do you want to know?” you jabbed back at him playfully. The festivities were starting to rub off on you.

“You’re not from here.” he stated with a hint of detest, Hinawa was right about Company 7 being territorial. “Says who?” you toyed with him a bit longer.

It felt like your mission to try and make him laugh or at least smile. “I know everyone in this town, personally,” he paused to spin you around like the many other pairs around you did, your back hit his chest, “You’re not from here.” he grumbled in your ear, there was a hint of a threat in his words.

The way his grip on you tightened told you that you were getting to him, but when you didn’t immediately answer him he continued, “So, who are you?” his tone didn’t leave much room for arguing, but you somehow seemed so squeeze through the gap and find it.

“What’s the point in this-” you gestured to the black masquerade mask resting on your cheeks, “-If I just tell you who’s under it?” you leaned your head on his chest so you could gaze up to his face.

Annoyingly, the design of his own mask didn’t allow you to see much of his face. All you could see was his long dark hair, his mouth and his jaw. Not that you were complaining, he had very attractive lips and his jaw was sharp - even the muscles in his neck were toned.

“You know who I am, so it’s only fair I know you.” he eventually twirled you off of his chest, making your head spin and dizziness take over, “But I don’t know who you are,” you interjected.

He scoffed at your statement, an air of arrogance took over him, “Of course you do.” his moves didn’t seem to match what everyone around you was doing and you took this as a sign of him being at least a little bit intrigued by you and the conversation.

“No, really, I don’t.” you tried to sound as serious as possible so he would believe you. He didn’t verbally reply but you heard a low hum vibrate out of his throat, it sounded as though he was still trying to make up his mind about the authenticity of your ignorance, “I’d like to though.” a smile crept up on you as you allowed the cheeky statement to linger in the air for a while.

It surprised you when he returned your impish grin. “I’m not sure you’d like me anymore if you knew me.” he placed his hands on your hips and lifted you into the air while turning you around, your hands were on his shoulders for stability, “Who said I like you now?” you poked your tongue through your teeth, almost biting it when your feet connected with the floor again.

There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere around the two of you, “You wouldn’t be smiling so much if you didn’t,” his touches felt more purposeful, even when his hands lingered on you a little bit longer than they were supposed to.

Although, this was a dance that you’d never seen before. How did you know what was right and wrong?

“I can’t help it, I like having attractive company,” you were brave with your words but you had to admit his physique was impressive, you just wished you could see more of his face.

He felt like his brain short circuited for a moment, he couldn’t have heard you correctly, no one found him attractive.

The small yelp that fell from your lips pulled him from his thoughts. The beautiful dress that you were wearing had caught alight where his hands were connected to your body.

Instantly he let go of you and the flames went out, “Are you okay?” he asked, it was uncharacteristic for him to lose control of his pyrokinesis, let alone care about someone so quickly. Especially someone who wasn’t from Asakusa, but he had to admit you were an interesting individual.

“Sting a little, but no real harm done,” you laughed nervously, you weren’t unpowered so it was a shock when his flames actually harmed you. This should’ve been your first warning as to who this man was.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he had taken your hand and led you into a large building away from the crowds of people enjoying the festival - you would’ve attempted to pull your hand away if it wasn’t for the bruising grip he held on it.

Within minutes he had sat you down in a private room and was carefully rubbing ointment on the faint burn marks on your skin. He was having a lot of trouble trying to hook his finger into the burn holes he had made while rubbing in the ointment.

The feeling of his fingertips on your flesh had a light tingle running up your spine. His hands were warm, if it weren’t for the fear of him setting you alight again you’d allow yourself to fully enjoy it.

“Would you mind taking this off?” he asked flatly as he tugged at your dress. You stared at him for a moment to see whether he was being serious - his mouth was a straight line, indicating he was 100% serious.

Well, if he can’t see how indecent that would be then why not?

With a shrug and a blunt “Sure.” you pulled the hem of your skirt up past your underwear, only stopping on your stomach when you heard him say “That’s enough.” - suddenly the awkwardness of when you first met felt like nothing.

He huffed as he flipped the veil of his mask up to rest on his head with one hand and continued to apply the ointment with the other.

His gesture made you gaze up at his face, the sound of you sharply intaking breath through your nose made him stop the rubbing, “Is it cold?” he didn’t bother to look up at you when he address you which you were thankful for.

“Mhmm,” you lied. The inhale was actually because of his striking eyes, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect when he lifted that thick piece of fabric but a pair of miss-matched irises was not it.

His left eye had a white circle surrounding a red pupil, and his right eye displayed a white cross; it was unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Here,” he rubbed his palms together and exhaled onto them to warm them up as he placed his huge hands onto your hips and gently kneaded them, “Is that better?” he asked innocently, completely unaware of the fact you were biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from making any inappropriate noises.

It wasn’t your fault! It was right on your hip bone, every circular motion had the butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults. 

You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy the feeling of his hands on your skin, you focused on controlling your breathing and muting any sounds, so much so that you almost didn’t notice how his thumbs found their way under the elastic of your underwear.

Almost.

Your eyes slowly opened when you felt the resistance lift from your hips, only to make eye contact with those inconsistent orbs. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs when you watched him slowly start to slide the elastic down your legs - even moreso when you lifted your hips to help him.

His eyeline dipped down to in between your thighs and you finally turned your head away, feeling embarrassed of how easily you were letting this stranger see your nakedness.

“Shy?” his words brought your attention back to him, but you dared not make eye contact, instead you nodded, “Close your eyes and don’t open until I say so.” he was commanding but calm, spreading a feeling of ease over you, “Okay.” you quietly agreed, all your sassiness from earlier gone.

A few moments went by and you were tempted to peak at him, especially when you felt the ribbon of your mask coming undone and it slip off your face, but you stayed true to your word.

You felt your mask be replaced with another one and he tightly redid the ribbon so the strands press against your head like a strange halo, “Open.” he said close to your ear and you obeyed, but your vision was just as dark.

The only indication of what had happened was his scent being significantly stronger and the feeling of fabric tickling your nose and cheeks.

“Answer me honestly, can you see?” his breath ghosted over your earlobe and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your chest, “N-No.” you didn’t dare move, “Do you want me?” his voice lowered in pitch and volume.

“I don’t know you,” you tried your best to avoid the question because it embarrassed you to admit that you did after such a short amount of time spent with him, and it also didn’t help that he most definitely already knew that, “That’s not answering my question,” he sounded like a disappointed teacher, “Yes or no, do you want me?” he repeated himself and something told you he wouldn’t ask you again.

You swallowed a lump of saliva down your throat with difficulty, “Y-Yes.” you hesitantly whispered, and then his warmth went away.

For a second you started to panic, your bottom half was fully exposed to the room and you couldn’t see a thing, all the worst possible things that could happen came to mind.

But before your paranoia could really settle in and fester you felt his hands on your shins, then they began to trail up over your knees and stop on your thighs. His hands were big enough to easily move your legs apart, not that you gave him much resistance.

Suddenly, his hands slid up the backs of your thighs and pushed them up into your chest, causing your torso to fly backwards and your head to hit the firm matted floor.

He didn’t say sorry audibly, but when you felt his tongue brush over your core you suddenly no longer wanted to hear one. Shamefully you mewled as he used his tongue to explore your folds, you wished more than anything that you could see him, but in the same sense it heightened the experience tenfold.

It made your toes curl and your cunt clench around nothing when he started to lick small teasing circles on your clit. At this point you weren’t even trying to be quiet - you could still hear the music from outside and it was only getting louder along with you.

He appeared to only be spurred on by your noises; his grip on your thighs tightened and his mouth pushed against you with more force, his tongue diving deeper into you so he could feel you clench around it.

Then the sensation stopped and his hands left your legs. Disgracefully, you whined at the loss and brought your hand up to move the mask off of your eyes. Almost instantly your wrist was pinned to the matt and you could feel his weight over you again.

“Keep it on,” his breath brushed your lips and consequently made them dryer than they already were, making you wet them with your own tongue, “I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” his voice found itself at your left ear and you felt a shudder crawl down your spine as he rubbed his tip through your wet lips.

Frantically, you nodded. That was all he needed to signal for him to continue - he pushed himself into you, slowly at first but as soon as his head felt the warmth of your insides he snapped his hips harshly against your own to fully sheath himself inside of you.

It would’ve been nice to have some time to adjust to his size but you weren’t about to complain about how full he made you feel, especially when he let out such a throaty groan into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he dragged his hips almost the entire way back, only to thrust back into you again.

It was practically intoxicating to him how good you felt around him, and now that he had a taste he needed more. Immediately he started to pound into you, his grip on your wrist the only thing anchoring you to the ground.

The melody of your moans resonating together was better than any music that was being played outside. Alongside the accompaniment of bare skin hitting bare skin, it was a festival within of itself.

Your free hand blindly found the back of his head and you felt a pang of jealousy go through you when you felt no ribbon tied around his head, he was no longer wearing a mask yet he made you wear one.

In mild annoyance, your fingers pulled on the threads of his hair and a low growl vibrated through him, instantly being paired by an increase in his speed.

He was ramming into you at a bruising tempo, he lifted himself off of you in favour of holding your hips in place so he could pull your body onto him and meet his thrusts.

Ironically, his thumbs were pressing onto the burn marks he had so gently tried to sooth only moments prior, instead he was now using them as a berth while he impaled you repeatedly on his cock.

Everything was so sensitive but all you could do was moan shamelessly as he bounced you on him. Every movement he made had your stomach doing flips, your legs and arms felt numb because of how much attention your brain was focusing on your oncoming orgasm.

You tried your best to hold it back, but when your walls clenched around him it gave you away. It was like a signal for him, he released one of your hips so he could rub small circles on your hips.

He was close too, but there was no way he was going to allow himself to cum first. The way you tightened around him almost tempted him to fall over the edge but he wanted to watch you come undone first, he wanted to see every muscle in your beautiful face scrunch up and then release as you came all over his cock.

Another growl left him as he tore the mask away from your face, it was getting in the way, he wanted to look into your eyes as he made you feel good and he couldn’t with that stupid piece on you - even though he put it there.

For a brief moment you got to see his features; his cut jaw slightly lack as he lost himself in pleasure, his furrowed eyebrows and his long black hair sticking to his forehead from perspiration.

It was only a moment, then your eyes were screwed shut as you felt the warmth of your climax snap inside you, “F-Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh shit!” a string of cussed escorted your high pitched screams into the air as you felt him cum inside of you.

Then the only sound, other than the music outside, was your shared heavy breathing while you both came down from your highs.

A tingle went through you when he finally pulled out and replaced your underwear as though nothing had happened, he stood up helped you to your feet as well.

You were about to say something when you felt your phone start to vibrate in your pocket, “One second,” you gestured to him when you saw it was Obi calling you. He simply nodded as he stepped away to find his mask that he’d carelessly threw to the side.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked as soon as you’d put the phone to your ear, “Where are you? We’ve been looking for you for the past hour!” Obi sounded worried and it broke your heart to hear him so distressed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” you reassured him, “Where are you guys, I’ll come to you.” you skilfully dodged telling him where you were, you weren’t sure how he would react considering how protective he was over you all.

While you were on the phone, the dark haired man handed you your mask while he fiddled with his in his hands.

You agreed to meet the rest of Company 8 by the food table where you’d left Iris and hung up the phone.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go,” you explained to the, not-so-much-a, stranger as you tied your mask back around your face, his had unfortunately snapped in half in the heat of the moment.

What’s the etiquette for this type of thing? Do I say thank you? Do I just leave?

He nodded in understanding and didn’t seem too bothered by your departure, “See you around?” you couldn’t sound more unsure of yourself if you tried, but he nodded again and added a “Sure.” to make you feel a bit better.

You really thought Obi was going to give you hell when you saw him and the rest of Company 8, but instead he gave you a hug, clearly happy that you were safe. You were in the middle of explaining the burn holes in your dress to Iris and Maki as being a clumsy accident with one of the many lit candles when you saw Obi’s eyeline shift to behind you.

“Oh, Y/N!” he started as he turned you around with one hand and you had to stop your eyes from widening, “This is Benimaru Shinmon, Captain of the 7th, and Konro Sagamiya, his Lieutenant,”.

Captain?

At this point your heart was thumping but Obi continued, “I don’t believe you’ve met them yet, they invited us here!” he smiled unknowingly while you’d suddenly forgotten how to introduce yourself to someone you’d already met, and someone you’d had inside you only moments prior.

The 7th Captain grimaced at the way Obi had said his name to you, but luckily, he stayed nonchalant, “No, we haven’t.” he said calmly, you followed his lead, “Nice to meet you,” you stuck your hand out for him to shake but he kept his arms crossed and inside of his kimono, “Likewise.” was the only response you got.

Konro glanced between the two of you knowingly but decided to keep his knowledge to himself, instead he was the one that took your outstretched hand and saved you from awkwardness, “It’s a pleasure to meet you properly,” he smiled.

He had a few questions for his friend, but he would save you both the embarrassment of asking them in front of everyone else, instead he would just enjoy the festivities.

all:

@mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @hereticpriest @enagmaticether @anxiousgoddest @kodzu-ken @moonnei @diesinspanishbcimhispanic  @fvckmeupyoonz @homosexualjohnwayne @notplutos​ @ lucilfervoid

[hobidreams]

november 1869.

to remember what has been lost; to protect what still remains.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama. words: 2.4k contains: descriptions of blood/death, a reckoning.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 26. start from the beginning?

Before Queen Jeonghui’s tomb, you stand with hands bowed in reverence, mind laden with warm memories as sticks of incense burn above your fingertips.

“We all miss you, daebi-mama. I hope you are resting well,” you murmur, letting the smoke mingle with your breath in the air as you bow, deeply. “Happy birthday.”

A little ways away, the single guard that accompanies you is also offering his thoughts to the raised, grassy mound that the queen lies beneath. You’re glad it’s Myungho to come with you today. He’s a good man, one who allows you as much freedom as possible. He understands your need to escape sometimes. Nearby, the horses you rode here are grazing on the field, quietly snorting as their tails swish from side to side.

As you look upon the tomb, you wonder wistfully if mother has found the queen in the spirit world. If they’re playing the game of janggi they so loved in life, when both could find the rare time to continue their decade-long (friendly) rivalry while indulging in cups of strong, dark tea. The thought brings a smile to your face even as fresh tears fall at the remembrance.

In your peripheral vision, you see a swish of fabric, the sign of someone approaching. You give one last bow and slot your incense in the traditional tray, realizing it must be time to leave before it gets too cold and your limbs begin to freeze even under the layers of clothes. You must go back eventually, you know it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

But when you turn, the man that stands beside you wears royal robes — the scarlet fabric and golden dragons unmistakable.

“Jeonha?”

The king’s face holds only sorrow as he holds matching incense in his hands. Staring straight ahead, he bends into a bow, dipping his head repeatedly low, low, lower until he’s almost on the dying, waterlogged grass with it, the lit grey tips flickering in the wind as they are nearly doused from the force of his movements. He bites his lip hard, so hard he draws blood as he punishes his own legs with the bows but he doesn’t stop.

You watch him with emotion clinging to your throat, but you swallow the questions you want to ask as you swipe at your wet cheeks. Why are you here? Why did you change your mind? How are you? Are you okay? All these impertinent questions are for you, to satisfy your own curiosity, and that’s not what he needs right now.

Quietly, steadily, you wait until he has finally stuck in the incense in the memorial ash. You wait until he opens his eyes, red-rimmed as they are, and finds your gaze.

“I… decided at the last moment,” he murmurs. “You… were right. I had to see her.”

You nod. Think you understand everything else he means as well, even if he’s left it unspoken. “Me too.”

“She would have liked that you’re here.”

That simple sentence threatens another wave of nostalgia and longing. You let it pull you under. Sink yourself into it. The mourning, the grief. And the love. The love that was there. The love that still remains, the traces of it held in you both. Your fingers twitch with a sudden, daring want to take his hand. To meet your palms and find the warmth and the life pulse that beats so closely, so resolutely just beneath the surface despite all this pain and all this loss. If you could just reach out. If you could just take another risk…

“Jeonha, run!”

The scream comes from the hill behind you. You both whirl.

The head of the royal guard comes running over with his sword drawn. His teeth are grit, hair blown from the wind that sweeps through the grass, rippling. His blade is already stained with a color that makes your stomach lurch at the implication.

“Hoseok— What’s going on?” The king yells back.

“Rebels! An ambush. We don’t have enough men!”

These few seconds are all the warning you get.

An incredible roar of voices comes exploding up and then you see them. The thick crowd of men that come surging over the hill, fighting their way towards you. The unforgettable clatter of metal on metal desecrates this once-sacred ground. Your legs go soft as you panic, scrambling. You’re trying not to watch as guards and rebels alike are cut down, but the enemies are steadily advancing still. What should you do? Where should you go?

“Myungho, get the horses!” The king barks out. But one look at the steeds tells you that they’re frightened, rearing back as men descend upon them. They’re off, running away on instinct to preserve their own lives while damning yours.

“Jeonha, what are your orders?” Myungho’s grip on his weapon is tight.

“Go. Help Hoseok.”

“Yes, jeonha!”

But as the battle wears on, the dread in you only grows. The king’s men are skilled, but it seems there were only a few to begin with. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers, yelling for jeonha to escape but he doesn’t move. You don’t know what to do. You are at a complete loss, standing beside him with fingers growing steadily numb. You have to do something. You— You can’t just let it end here, at the hands of these men bellowing with violence and anger and pain.

“Jeonha, w-we have to run,” you stutter, forcing yourself to move, tugging at the fabric of his robes. But when you look back at the opposite side, your only escape route, a throng of rebels come scattering across the grass. Cutting you off; rendering you helpless.

“Myungho, cover the rear!” Hoseok spits out as he takes down another three by himself, the quick whip of his blade reflecting a beam of sun. But even he, with two other guards in front, cannot hold all of them off, though there are less of the rebels now that remain standing.

Caught in the middle, you can only watch your allies strain and sweat. In your heart, you promise desperately that you heal them in the end, if only they will hold on now.

With an awful cry, one of the guards hits the ground and a rebel uses that chance. Breaks through the line of defense and charges right towards you both.

“Fuck the king!” He yells, his face smeared with dirt, his sword raised as his bare feet trip upon the grass but he just keeps coming somehow and you have no weapons and you have no shields but the very first instinct, the most primal one you have is to throw yourself in front of the king and take his pain for him and—

Hoseok dispatches the rebel from behind just as you move a single step forward.

“You…” The king’s voice is hoarse. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at you, at what you just did. Then he’s shoving you aside and stooping to pick up the abandoned sword from the ground.

You realize what he means when he sweeps up his sleeves, adjusts his grip on the worn handle. “Wait, no, jeonha, you cannot—”

“Stay behind me.”

“I cannot allow you to—”

“Do not argue with me.”

Again, he leaves you with no choice but to watch his back.

Fear pounds away in your body like a thousand drums, thunder booming through the pulse of your clenched heart in your ears as the king takes a first brutal swing at an enemy. Somewhat out of practice against the towering man, he’s shoved back by the sheer force of the clash, feet skidding across the wet grass but he refuses to yield. Stubborn as he always is, he rushes in again only to be pushed back. Again.

The king tilts his blade, slices it quick only to have one sent right back at him, barely missing his shoulder by an inch. He doesn’t even flinch as he stands firm. Adapts in the moment and tries a new strategy, a new tactic that has him spinning, robes fluttering in the winter air as his shuddering breath comes out in a puff of white and ends in a fury of red. And again. And again until finally, finally, only the strongest of the rebels remain standing with the few allies you left, along with your brutal, bloodied king.

Before you, all the men are panting, open mouthed, every last one of them desperate for a victory that spells the doom of the other.

“Come on then,” the king goads, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a show of nonchalance even though he’s obviously fatigued. “Attack.”

“You little shit!”

This man is enormous, easily a head above the king and he’s strong, muscles bulging from his torn tunic as he thrusts the sword ahead with surprising speed. The quick rush of air slices through two layers of robes, splitting the dirtied fabric open as the king narrowly escapes without a new scar. But his return stab doesn’t meet a mark and he’s slow on the rebound, steps lost some of the agility he had at the start.

Please. Please, you beg to whatever god may be listening, don’t let him die. But that rebel seems to have an endless strength as he forces the king back, meets him blow for blow for blow and you are so worried, terrified you’re going to see his last moments like this. Like this you will have been with him until the end just like you once stupidly wished. You’re so caught up you don’t realize what’s going on behind you.

“Su-uinyeo-nim! Watch out!” Myungho’s voice cracks as he cries your name, but you turn too slow. Myungho’s on the ground and the rebel that beat him is sprinting towards you, savagery in his scowl, his crude axe already suspended in mid-swing, just a few more steps, just one more shove to land right across your heart and you, you who has never held a weapon before in her life, you who has lived to heal and mend instead of hurt, what can you do right now but die?

“No!”

The scream is hoarse, a furious sound matched with a rush of robes that whip past your own.

You peel open your eyes in time to watch the king take the axe blow meant for you with his left arm. Despite his bark of pain, he swings with his right in exchange and it’s enough. The rebel falls, his axe plummeting uselessly beside him. Then the king falters too, sword clattering down as he finally drops to his knees.

“Jeonha!” You scramble to him. “Oh god, oh god, jeonha, why did you do that— Jeonha, how could you do such a thing? Jeonha!” You part the stained robes, stomach churning at the raw sight of his sacrifice. “We need to fetch you help. You need medicine, oh god, oh god.” This is panic like you’ve never felt it before as you look around, as if some miracle could occur, as if it hasn’t already occurred by the fact that you’re both still alive.

To one side, Hoseok is alone, gasping hard with the enormous rebel lying prone beside him, evidently having finished him off. Myungho has a gash running down his side, but he’s crawling towards you both still with a hand pressed to his wound for pressure. There is no one else. You have to do this on your own. You have to calm the hell down.

Using the nearby sword, you force yourself to focus and stop shaking as you cut strips of the inner layer of your skirt. You have to save his arm even as nausea swims in your mind, nerves making you want to empty your stomach.

“Hah...” The king’s chest lurches as he struggles for air. His eyes are hazy but he manages to fix them on you, as if to ground himself. “You’re… safe?”

Nodding frantically, you start to wrap the cloth around him, willing your fingers not to slip. “I-It’s deep, jeonha. Your wound is so deep.” You’re quietly sobbing as you tie the makeshift bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding. How could he be thinking of you at a time like this? It must hurt excruciatingly so, yet he is still trying to be strong.

Beside you, Hoseok is carrying Myungho’s weight, using the extra cloth to help his ally with his limited medical training.

“…Hoseok.” The king sucks in another long breath. “They… Those rebels were peasants, weren’t they?”

“Yes, jeonha… I think they were.”

He accepts this knowledge silently as you finish your preliminary treatment, but lack the resources to do anything else. You stare at the fresh red seeping through the flimsy cloth and hope desperately that it will be enough for now, until one of you can return to the palace and gather reinforcements to take you home. Feeling your fingers stop, he immediately tries to move his arm but winces, bites his lip at the sudden jolt.

“Don’t move, please,” you instantly say.

The king huffs a long, exhausted sigh as he sinks into the ground. Lets the tension seep out of him, though likely not by choice. His dark eyes flicker to the tomb briefly before they slide closed, the scar ever slashed startlingly crimson across the right side. Despite his best attempts, he is still winded, depleted. Human, after all. After all of this.

You brush matted strands of light hair away from his forehead, and pat at the drops of sweat that linger and prove how hard he pushed himself to fight. He shifts into your touch like a stray animal, allowing you take care of him for once without argument until his breaths even some, settling only in your arms.

“It seems it’s been a long time,” he says softly after a moment, his eyes remaining shut.

“Since?”

“Since I’ve protected someone.”

Your pulse catches. Blood thrums through you as you whisper, “but you did.” Your voice is viscous with relief, and gratitude. “You did.”

Only now do you dare to reach for his hand, to lend him some of your strength, even though you have seen again just how much of it he already holds in himself.

Wrapped in your warmth, he squeezes back just the once. Lets you know he is here, he is here, he is here with you still.

a/n: because i could never forget the way he wielded that sword in the mv. so... how you feel about our king now?

[pindl3]

Since ranboo has said that everything is going to go to shit in the future, I’m going to indulge in some headcanons <3

The Syndicate

Ranboo wears makeup to cover his scars

When niki found out, she started teaching him more about makeup

Before syndicate meetings, Niki goes over to Ranboo’s place first so they can do each other’s make up

Since ranboo only did simple makeup he wasn’t very good at it at first, but even so Niki would always wear it to the meetings to make him feel more confident

Eventually Phil found them doing it, and they dragged him in to get his makeup done too

The next meeting Technoblade was very confused

One time ranboo managed to bribe technoblade to let Niki do his makeup- it didn’t go well when he found out Philza filmed the whole thing

Technoblade finds their antics amusing, and lets them get away with a lot- he won’t admit that he has a soft spot for the lot

Niki finds Ranboo wearing a skirt before one of the meetings- it was a sub goal- and proceeds to have a whole dress up party.

Ranboo stops to send a selfie of the completed look to Tubbo- that’s how Niki finds out that they are very very good friends (ranboo doesn’t tell her they’re married)

Tub n Ran Moments

Tubbo will go on frequent nightly trips (this man is missing his entire sleep schedule smh) and if he finds ranboo sleepwalking outside, he’ll hold his hand to make sure he (ranboo) doesn’t get lost

Ranboo likes to test makeup stuff on Tubbo

Tubbo has fallen asleep to Ranboo putting makeup on him multiple times- Ranboo would find it endearing if he would stop falling over and smearing all his hard work

Ranboo does find it endearing, he just uses that as an excuse to avoid admitting it

Tubbo enjoys braiding

Tubbo braids Michael’s hair- even if there isn’t a lot of it

When Tubbo gets too stressed, Ranboo lets him braid his hair over and over, gradually letting him calm down

They do that whenever they get into an argument as well, sitting in braiding silence until one of them speaks up.

It’s an unspoken rule that Tubbo cant tug Ranboo’s hair otherwise he won’t let him play with it anymore

If Tubbo finds ranboo being angsty, he’ll take him to the cake walk. After he restores all of the eaten cake, they go to a flower biome and talk about stuff until he calms down.

Ranboo, despite being less stubborn than Tubbo, always takes longer to talk about his issues. (The reasoning behind this is that Tubbo has pretty much always had Tommy, and Tubbo knows how to talk things out. While Ranboo is known for keeping secrets, trusting no one and withdrawing when stressed.)

They are both very stubborn about talking it over, albeit Ranboo is worse

Adventures with Ran, Tom n Tub

When Tommy is refusing help with something, Ranboo will start quietly assisting without his knowledge.

Ranboo and Tubbo will go on short adventures together, stalking Tommy and making sure he’s safe and well

Whenever they get caught, Tubbo always wholeheartedly admits to stalking him. It’s so abrupt that it never fails to make Tommy burst out laughing

Both Tubbo and Tommy exploit Ranboo for his huge wallet

When Tommy found out about Ranboo’s tear scars, (Ranboo was in his enderwalking state and had taken his makeup off) it freaked him out so much that he punched Ranboo, woke him up, and they both started screaming continuously at each other for a solid minute

Tubbo came outside of the mansion after he heard the elongated screaming, to see them staring at each other, standing in shocked silence. Tubbo walked back inside.

When Tommy started feeling more and more lonely, Tubbo invited him to have a sleepover at the Mansion. They ended up spending half the night looking for Ranboo, who enderwalked his way over to Sams place. After retrieving Ranboo, they all went and passed out.

Tommy denies that Ranboo is growing on him. Ranboo knows he’s growing on Tommy despite this.

They hold a slumber party every few days to make Tommy feel better- again, he denies that it kinda works

Technoblade

Techno hates being called The Blade after what happened with Tommy

Philza picked up on this and let Ranboo know. Now they only call him Techno and avoid the Blade part. Techno has yet to catch on

Techno has a major soft spot for Ranboo, despite trying his hardest at the beginning to avoid it

The voices in Technos mind always help him give people the best gifts- and by people that means Philza because he only is willing to show appreciation to Phil so he can keep his tough persona going strong.

The voices beg for blood- but they could also just go for some juice. Techno has yet to figure that out, because he never has juice

Techno has a huge stash of crowns in a chest somewhere, because they usually end up getting broken in battle.

Since both techno and Tubbo have trash sleep schedules, they have stumbled upon each other in the middle of the night.

Techno has seen Tubbo holding Ranboo’s hand at night (when he’s enderwalking, but Techno doesn’t know that), and has already made the connection that they’re married. they literally wear matching rings and heart necklaces.

Techno does not care that they’re married, despite major concerns around that. He doesn’t personally like Tubbo, but he likes Ranboo and trusts him. Also Tubbo has nukes, and being allied with his husband might protect his home from getting a booming visit.

Techno can sew, and actually enjoys it

Techno knows how to sew because of his habit of getting in fights. Fights with swords. And axes. You can see why knowing how to repair stuff would come in handy

Technos og cape, which has many stitches and hours of work inside of it, was taken when he was put on “trial”.

Ranboo also returned that when giving his armor back, which Techno was very grateful for (he wouldn’t let anyone know that though)

That’s all my headcanons for now, now gonna go keep ignoring the impending doom that’s going to be upon us in an indeterminate amount of time

[fallinfl0wers]

love stories with some genshin boys i thought of while listening to my playlists

includes: aether (210 words), xiao (261 words), scaramouche (277 words) and albedo (307)

warnings (?): spoilers of ‘we will be reunited’, english is not my native language and uhh idk what else, idk really know what these are, headcanons ?? snippets ?? also not beta read and not edited.

it’s long so uhhh i’ll add a cut somewhere

anyway enjoy!! ...whatever this is i guess

Aether

Falling in love with Aether is like a fun adventure. He, being always the center of attention and the protagonist no matter where he goes, is a free spirited, kind and hardworking man. 

Throughout your time travelling and being in a relationship together, you’ll find that your relationship with the Honorary Knight is one of sweet kisses under the sunlight; innocent handholding while thinking up of what to make for dinner tonight; of easily talked out arguments and finding ways to compromise; of softly pushing each other to become a better version of themselves and, most of all, of supporting and having each other’s backs no matter what.

And when Aether confronts the Abyss Princess face to face for the first time and his world comes crashing down on him, this trait of your relationship shines like no other, as you hold him in your arms after everything was over during the night, Paimon sleeping soundly next to the both of you inside your improvised campsite.

“Even though I’m not sure what -or who- I should believe anymore, I... I know I want to see this journey to the end, and I want you to be there with me for it. Let’s be together until the last moment and beyond.”

Songs:

Snow Fairy - Funkist

Snowing, be honest with yourself and smile When two people are getting closer, time overlaps Fairy, where are you going I will gather all the light and shine it on your tomorrow

Still Lonely - SEVENTEEN

This cursed popularity. Why won’t it leave me? But why am I getting lonelier The early morning chill makes me feel Even lonelier today I feel completely empty, as if I’m empty

Kanpeki Gu~ no ne - Watarirouka Hashiritai

I'm at a loss for words, with this and that, I'm totally in love with you Someday, I want do the same to you: Watch you flounder, At a loss for words right back to me!

Side by Side - The8 from SEVENTEEN

I want to hold hands with you but I don't know what to do what to do oh baby I want to give all my heart to you but You still don't know what's in my heart

Hope - Namie Amuro

At the end of this blue, wide world there's a place I want to aim at with you We chose this long ago for eternity

Xiao

Falling in love with Xiao is like living a bittersweet dream. The Vigilant Yaksha is far from human, or so he says, and thus is out of touch with the way we mortals experience feelings, both the negative and positive ones.

Your relationship with him is one of compassion, mutual understanding, appreciation and patience. So, so much patience. Of intertwined pinkies and soft stolen glances, of shy smiles and comfortable silence sometimes filled with your voice chatting time away and his short responses to your talks.

I mentioned patience. He knows you’re making an enormous effort to try and understand him and be patient with him and his slow learning process of how relationships work, so it’s only fair that he makes a true effort to understand you and your feelings.

Xiao is well aware that he could hurt you without wanting to, be it with his blunt phrasing of his thoughts or his Karmic Debt, as much as he is aware that you will eventually pass away and leave him behind to go somewhere he can’t follow, and that undeniable truth haunts him every second of every day he gets to spend with you. And still, he wishes and wants and does cherish each and every warm, kind feeling he gets every single second you’re together nonetheless.

“I might not know what to make of these new feelings you gave me. But I’ll learn. I promise I’ll learn, so please... don’t go, not yet. Let me treasure you and carve you into my memory for as long as I can.”

Songs:

Euphoria - BTS

I don't know what this emotion is Perhaps this is also the inside of a dream A dream is the blue mirage of the desert Deep inside of me, a priori I become happy to the point of being unable to breathe The surroundings, bit by bit, become clearer

Fallin’ Flower - SEVENTEEN

While flower blooms and falls, scars cure and buds shoot We are living our first and last moment So I won’t take you for granted Because you loved me as I am

Fear - SEVENTEEN

Get out my mind I can't handle it, I'm afraid of myself The truth has me tied up My heart is tainted I'm afraid it'll eventually change you too

The Truth Untold - BTS, Steve Aoki

It’s my fate Don’t smile to me Light on me Because I can’t get closer to you There’s no name you can call me

You know that I can’t Show you me Give you me I can’t show you a ruined part of myself Once again I put a mask on and go to see you But I still want you

Tiny Light - Akari Kitō

Because you colored my unchanging monochromatic days Even the blurred darkness gained meaning

Still, hidden in this heart, these feelings of preciousness so strong that they hurt I just want to convey these feelings to only you before they disappear someday

Scaramouche

Falling in love with Scaramouche is like constantly playing a game. He’s strict, demanding, disagreeable, and widely disliked by enemies and allies alike. Still, he has a heart too; and he holds desires and hopes deep inside of it, although most of them are fueled by the unchanging curiosity he has towards the world around him, curiosity to know what he can get out of whatever the world wants to throw at him.

You were no exception to that rule, at first.

When he met you he wanted to get something from you. And you knew it from the start, just as he knew that you knew. And that didn’t change anything, at first.

Your relationship with him is one of dangerously playful, yet still light-hearted games of seduction, teasing and deceit; of secret kisses exchanged in expensive private rooms in restaurants or the cozy warmth of your home, of an unspoken shared respect and, most of all, complete, mutual devotion.

You know Scaramouche is not a good man. He has done many, many unspeakable things in his life as one of the Eleven, and he knows he’s far from being the perfect charming prince you could aim for, but he will never let you go. Because behind those hardened walls of egocentrism and pride, you saw what no one else bothered to see. You saw him, not the role he was playing, you saw him and fell in love with him.

“To be honest, I don’t think I could find anyone else who understands me as much as you do. And no, I’m not saying this because I want something, give me some more credit, geez...”

Songs:

soldier game -  µ’s

You'll come with me, yes? You've grown curious about my touch, yes? Then it's already love Since you're someone I must meet in battle someday, That might just be your reason It's soldier game Though we've met again, I'm soldier heart

Kowareyasuki - Guilty Kiss

Just stop it already and show your heart only to me I love your eyes that are about to cry And your defenseless, clumsy way of living too (...) The hesitation you convey makes my chest hurt Some people just don't know what such kindness is But then I discover the truth When we got together, you don't have to endure anymore Right now, show your grief only to me I like that you think too much The complete opposite of me

Shhh - SEVENTEEN

Don't think of all these as your mere illusion They're not lies that follow the moment No one can underestimate it, my feelings are an ignition 'Cause I'm always the same Me and you, we got hurt by the lies that we won't ever work But it's fate

(...)

So I can cover you from danger A consented dedication

(...)

It's as natural as breathing An everlasting dedication

Good to me - SEVENTEEN

Yeah, when you were making that sign in my heart It was a long time since my firewall broke down Pass with the password What in the world do you know about me? Are my deep feelings seen by you?

Hiraishin - Keyakizaka46

(To trust is to be betrayed, to open one’s heart is to get hurt So to avoid being struck by lightning-like sorrow…)

Which side am I picking? Ah, these values are hard to handle That’s why I won’t stop watching over you Positive positive positive You should just be yourself… I can forgive whatever absurdities you pull off I’ll support you without being noticed Even when you get nitpicked I’ll be your companion Let us now promise to live an unremarkable life hereafter What we have here is the lightning rod of love

Albedo

Falling in love with Albedo is a fairy tale-like experience for both of you. His attention had always been focused on his research, everything else fading into the background save for a few exceptions, until you came around. You, who stole all his attention by just existing. 

As an alchemist, he’s naturally the curious type. He wanted to know what about it had caught his attention, what was so special about you that had him clinging to your every word and movement every time you interacted with him. Still, human relationships are hard for him, and he figured you might go away the second he started to feel burnt out from your interactions. But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed. You stayed and took interest on what he did, asked questions, gave your insight, and dragged him to sleep when he needed a break. In exchange, he did the same for you.

Your relationship with Albedo is like one of those awkwardly sweet first time crushes. Of carefully calculated movements, dates and compliments, of soft kisses on lips, hands and cheeks, of mutual support, understanding and mature compromising and commitment.

The Kreideprinz, like everyone else, has his own fears and insecurities, especially regarding his... nature, but he does his best not to let them affect the relationship he has with you. Each moment spent by your side, even when he’s not actively doing any research, is considered perfectly spent, meaningful time.

“A long time ago, I was tasked with finding out the meaning of this world. Though I have directed my efforts and resources to looking for the answer through alchemy, ever since we met I... think, I’ve found an unexpected conclusion to said issue. While it’s likely that this is not the answer expected from me, I’m positive that, at least personally, I finally have the answer.”

Songs:

Futari Saison - Keyakizaka46

In the wind blowing through the city’s streets, even though I caught whiff of something’s scent, I had no interest in looking back

In a 1m radius around me, I formed an invisible barrier to another world And yet, you took someone like me out of it

What made you do that?

Home - SEVENTEEN

What can I do? Without you I’m just an old robot, my heart stops and it’s always cold What can we do? Without me You’ll struggle just as much, so what can we do?

Baby, I want to cherish our warmth So no one can come between us

Flower - SEVENTEEN

You taught me, you showed me You’re my only reason If you can forever remember me I can get hurt, I can get hurt

My heart that’s engraved with your light Makes me stronger Give me your sharp thorns Cause you’re my flower

Oh my! - SEVENTEEN

Sorry for repeating the same thing But this is all I can try using hard words But my true feeling is this, every everything

(...)

How about you? Is it hard for you to sleep because of me too? If you keep making my heart flutter What do I do?

Naze koi wo shite konakattan darou? - Sakurazaka46

Why hadn't I fallen in love? I've been making fun of it all this time I mean everyone keeps saying 'I love you' just like cats in heat But after falling in love I realized what people live for To meet, to love, to the point of nothing but... I'm not myself, I want to find my true self.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Introductions (AU; the government are introduced to the Emperor’s right hand man)

Emperor Palpatine sat at the helm of the table, his expensive ornate satin cloak pulled up to cover his deformed features. He had made a rare exception to the never appearing in public rule, if only to summon his little group of closely affiliated followers for a less than chummy supper. The Coruscant sun had already begun to set, its pinkish rays disappearing behind the skyscrapers visible from the large single viewport of the Emperor’s dining hall. Two months had passed since the fall of the Republic. Two months since the war came to an end, two months since the Jedi were declared traitors and executed en masse. Two months since Palpatine declared himself dictator, since his regulations had begun being pushed onto all known systems. Two months, and Governor Tarkin had thought himself to be lucky with his role.

A few faces, he recognized. Former admiral Wullf Yularen was a welcome addition despite being a bit below the required rank, fighting the just fight against outliers and naysayers. Orn Free Taa was a more unfortunate case (he had likely invited himself by flattery and empty promises), while Vizier Mas Amedda was an obvious presence. Sate Pestage, Janus Greejatus, Ars Dangor, Kren Blista-Vanee and Verge’s smug faces had Tarkin fighting the urge to roll his eyes at their insipid subservience. Artist Eveli Charis was, Tarkin figured, the most surprising member of the meeting - serving as the only female face of the small crowd. Her aside, and finance minister Gagh rounded off the gathering. 

These people were - each in different ways - the most influential people of the new Empire.

“I have not gathered you simply for the sake of sharing a dinner in the wake of our victory. Indeed, I have been wishing to relay to you my plans for the grand future of our Galaxy,” said Palpatine suddenly, his voice gravelly and his gnarly hands reminiscent of claws where they rested against the table cloth.

Tarkin thought he could see a pair of golden eyes gleaming beneath the shrouded darkness of Palpatine’s hood, but chalked it up to a trick of the light. Instead, he focused on the hand stitched embroidery of the Emperor’s burgundy robes. The man had always had an affinity for fancy dress.

“It is clear that you shall provide eyes and ears for me, and I trust you to fulfill your duties towards the Empire, and subsequently to me. However, I’m afraid I must offer you a small surprise.”

“Another, Your Highness?” Tarkin said with an amused smile, and he couldn’t help but feel triumphant when Palpatine let out a pleased cackle in response.

“I’m afraid so, Governor. Surely, you shall all take this little revelation in stride. Are we not in dire need of powerful allies?” he responded, gesturing with one clawed hand towards the Vizier who stood poised by the doorway.

On each side of the hydraulic sliding doors themselves, a royal guard clad in crimson stood at a patient salute. The Emperor’s personal bodyguards, their faces cloaked and hidden from view much like Palpatine himself. Their presence was an odd mixture of reassuring and oppressive, Tarkin had decided. But he saw no reason to fear them, given his own standing with the Emperor. If anything, he benefited from their presence as protectors.

“Will you reveal to us this secret, Your Highness?” asked Charis, her expression curious and incredulous at once.

“My child, have you not been taught the virtue of patience?” was Palpatine’s response; a thinly veiled insult that put her in her place, as she shrank back in shame and lowered her head in an obedient bow.

“Forgive me my insolence, Your Highness,” she offered, apologetic and the Emperor simply shrugged her words off.

“Think nothing of it. You are correct, it appears to me that I have unfairly omitted mentioning this to either of you. Alas, it is time I remedy this arrogance.”

Tarkin noted how the Emperor turned his head briefly, giving the Vizier a barely perceptible nod and the man stepped back. On cue, the guards uncrossed their electro-staffs and parted to the sides. Confusion seemed to overtake most of the party’s faces, as the doorway slid open with ease - only to reveal a man. Clad in black armour with red and silver accents; broad shouldered, tall and visibly disdainful towards his company. He stalked wordlessly up to Palpatine’s right hand side, where he lingered - gloved hands folded in front of his hips, legs wide apart. His eyes were glowing, an amber shade to their irises, a bloodshot sclera. The man’s face was scarred, rugged; and the only visible emotions seemed to be anger and resentment. One single dark blonde curl fell over his creased forehead.

But that wasn’t the oddity. Someone in the company - Tarkin suspected it to be Yularen, judging by the tone - gasped.

Indeed, it was difficult not to recognize the young man by the Emperor's side - the Emperor, whose features had twisted into a toothy grin. The man said nothing, taller than Tarkin remembered him. Something warped and cruel and twisted distorting his rather handsome features into something unrecognizable, all charm vanquished. He was pale, peering in distaste down at the dining party as if they were beneath him. It didn’t sit right with Tarkin, given that they all knew who he was and what his past profession up until about two months ago would have been.

Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker had joined them for supper.

“May I introduce to you Lord Vader,” said Palpatine, breaking the eerie silence. “Some of you may believe you are familiar with this man. I assure you, you are mistaken. The man whom you may recall is long gone. Lord Vader has seen the error of his ways, and accepted the Jedi traitors for what they are. He came to my aid during the assassination attempt ordered by master Windu.”

Tarkin listened closely, but he was not the only one who seemed unable to tear his gaze from Skywalk-- Vader’s stern features. He looked so much older than his age, as if he had seen a million lifetimes of suffering pass him by. His hollow eyes seemed haunted, but their inherent glow was more reminiscent of a predator locked in a cage. Simply biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. Still, he made no move and did not utter a single word.

“Lord Vader has turned out to be, much like you, one of my most trusted advisors. He is my right hand man, and while I have neglected to provide him with an official rank - he outranks every single one of you. It is my belief that only he has the means to do what needs to be done,” the Emperor continued.

Yularen seemed to shift uneasily in his seat, his eyes wide and a blunt disbelief etched into his aging features.

“You wish to speak, Colonel?”

Tarkin heard himself say; wondering if they were the only ones present - apart from the Emperor himself - who had maintained some sort of personal relationship to the man Palpatine had renamed and retooled so viciously.

“No, Governor. I--” he began, but was immediately cut off by Palpatine.

“You are wondering how the man you knew as a Jedi could turn on his own kind, is that not so? You are surprised to see that his loyalty towards the Empire could outweigh his loyalty towards his kin. Am I correct, Colonel?”

Yularen seemed to pause a bit longer than required, but gave a curt nod as he found the voice to speak up.

“Yes, Your Highness. I am merely… surprised, as you put it,” he said as a manner of surrender.

“It is understandable that you would be shocked. Should you like to speak of your own decision, Lord Vader?” the Emperor drawled, his voice menacing and sing-songy at once as he gestured to offer Vader the opportunity to speak.

“No,” the young man simply said, standing so still that his lips barely even seemed to be moving; his gleaming eyes scanning each and every person present before it landed on Tarkin - the only man who’s amusement outweighed the concerns. “I believe my actions will speak for themselves, as will your evident trust in me, my master.”

The voice was a bit deeper and gruffer than Tarkin recalled it - but that could be maturity - but its monotone quality was new. Vader spoke as if the words held no meaning to him, as if whatever he said was pointless and a waste of breath. As if his words were unbefitting of anyone but the Emperor. Yet, at the same time, he was matter of fact and to the point. A quality Tarkin had enjoyed in the past, and one he presumed Yularen had as well.

“Oh, I implore you to amuse this unspoken inquiry, Lord Vader,” Palpatine pressed, and as much as it came off as if being in good faith, it was an obvious demand no loyal servant could ignore.

“As you wish, my master,” Vader simply obeyed, his burning eyes still holding Tarkin’s in a cold, disgruntled stare. “I was the single man to commandeer the troops as they marched on the Jedi temple. I surveyed the situation, and I made sure not a single soul present escaped their fate. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to serve my Emperor, and I will not be frowned upon by the likes of you.”

The last word was delivered with such pure, unbridled loathing that it seemed to lower the temperature of the room by several degrees by proxy of mere intent. Vader nonchalantly folded his arms over his chest, lips drawn into a thin line and the perpetual scowl of his forehead had already begun to carve out fine lines in their wake. Palpatine was still sneering, grimy teeth bared in a ferocious grin.

“As you can see, Lord Vader’s conviction is admirable and undeniable. He has proved himself worthy of my trust, and so, I expect you to follow my example accordingly. I expect you to show him the reverence he requires,” the Emperor concluded, that odd glow to Vader’s eyes mirrored by his as he briefly peered up from beneath his hood - this time, it could be no trick of the light.

“I trust your infallible judgment, Your Highness,” Tarkin finally said, being the first to accept the new norm. “I may not be completely assured of Lord Vader’s motives as of yet, but he shall gain my respect when he has proved himself worthy of it.”

“My friend, you need not fear. However, I understand your concerns, and I have no doubt that you will come around quite soon,” said Palpatine, and while there was malice to the tone, he was also unusually honest and benevolent.

Tarkin suspected that was entirely on him, and their long history as colleagues and friends. He nodded, glancing over at Vader whose eyes regarded him still. Their gaze was arduous, and heavy, and vile - but that seemed to be their natural state, rather than any personal vendetta.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” was Tarkin’s only reply, and he shot a defiant glare back at Vader. “You are much too gracious.”

“Will you cease your repulsive display?” Vader snapped, and while Tarkin at first almost expected Palpatine to defend him; he found that the Emperor seemed humored enough by the obvious insult to allow the man to finish his trail of thought. “The Emperor will offer you no favours based on your fawning. You embarrass yourself, Governor.”

“Now, now, Lord Vader. I believe such childish bickering belongs elsewhere,” he finally shushed, as Vader relented like an obedient school boy fearing punishment. “However, I must agree. It would serve you well to evolve your attempts at flattery into a less… tacky matter.”

That triggered a reaction from Vader, as one corner of his lips twitched briefly upwards in a mocking, superior half smirk. He said nothing, but the triumph in those golden eyes spoke for itself.

“Now, with this out of the way, I wish to return to the matters at hand - but there is one more thing I wish to clarify. Lord Vader will not tolerate any mentions of the man you might recall him to be. He is no longer the naive child of yesterday. There will be a penalty for such insolence - no matter whom it may derive from. Lord Vader is a reinvented man. You shall address him only as such, and by no other name. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” was the singular response - and a brief hint of delight, and perhaps relief, crossed Vader’s scornful face.

“Very good,” said the Emperor with a cackle.

__________

I am not generally a fan of suitless Vader, but this idea came to me and it kinda required that so I went with it for once. Enjoy!

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029582

[ikeromantic]

Strength

An Ikesen Mitsuhide fanfiction, approx. 2000 words. This scene occurs toward the end of Ch. 12 in the romantic route.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: The Greatest Harm

Mitsuhide found Motonari in gambling house, as expected, but at the promise of violence to come, he was easy to persuade.

“We’re gonna march on tha shogun tonight, huh? ‘Bout time. My gun is gettin’ rusty with all tha waiting!” Motonari walked beside the kitsune warlord, almost bouncing. “I can send my men over to get tha guns and powder in tha mornin’. It’ll take that long ta get there and set a camp. Too bad we can’t just rush tha castle an’ get tha party started tonight!”

It was strange to think the man genuinely enjoyed fighting. For Mitsuhide, battles and killing were a means to an end, but he never sought them out. Still, it was good at least that the pirate was on his side. He’d rather point this avatar of destruction at a target than to be the target.

“Yer awful quiet, fox. Get in a tiff with tha woman?” Mouri chuckled. “Can’t imagine why.”

Mitsuhide gave the pirate a thin, sharp smile. He couldn’t let the man goad him, not tonight. Not with so much on the line. “My little mouse is fine. It is not easy for her to stay here while I go to fight.”

“Huh. Ya sure that’s all?”

The man was too damn perceptive. But they said madmen often were. Mitsuhide chose to ignore the comment.

Kennyo was staying in a widow’s home at the edge of the market. Of course, Mitsuhide was not supposed to know that - but the abbot knew he knew, and his arrival should not overly alarm the demon monk.

He sped them in that direction. The sooner the three were on their way, the less chance to slip and break this fragile alliance. It had to hold until Ashikaga’s head left his body behind. That was what Mitsuhide focused on. Not the last look he’d shared with his little one. He couldn’t think about the tears in her eyes, or the way his heart felt torn in two when he considered leaving her behind.

“What are you doing here, kitsune?” Kennyo’s deep growl came from a shadowed walkway in front of a closed shop.

“Looking for you.”

The abbot stepped out into the moon’s silver glow. His scar was a black crevasse across his face, a crack in the universe through which hell could be seen. His eyes burned with a dark and lightless hate. “You came to betray me?”

“He came ta tell ya we’re leavin’! Time ta make tha shogun pay fer ruinin’ my fun.” Motonari put his hands on his hips and leaned back on his heels. “Ya comin’ er did ya decide ta tuck yer tail and go back ta prayin’?”

Kennyo growled, a low rumbled in his chest like distant thunder. “Demons do not pray, nor do good men pray for the deaths of others. If it is time, then let us go. In silence.”

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “Do you need time to pack?”

“I have all my worldly possessions on me now. And what I need most is always to hand.” He tapped the bottom of his staff, and the dark street rang with the sound.

“Then I will meet you both at the edge of town when the moon touches the mountain tops.” Mitsuhide gave them a nod.

“Goin’ ta smooth things over with tha lady? Ya know if ya need some help, I -”

“Will be silent because your voice grates my nerves as surely as a stone in my sandal.” Kennyo interrupted Mouri with a grimace.

Mitsuhide gave the monk a look of gratitude before hurrying off to the inn.

His little one was gathering the last of his things when he arrived. And seemed in much better spirits. She even smiled as he came in, though there was still an edge of sadness to it. “Everything is packed and ready to go.”

“Good. Mouri will be sending people for the guns tomorrow. Be ready.”

“I will.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say in that moment. Promises he couldn’t keep. Words of love that would only make it hurt more to be apart. Mitsuhide was good at speaking - when he was playing a role. When it was the truth of his own heart, he found it hard to put the feelings into words. He was no poet. Not like Yoshimoto.

His eyes went to the floor, where the letter had fallen. It wasn’t there anymore, but he spotted the creased paper soon enough. Sitting on the desk, open. Was that the reason for her mood? Had Yoshimoto’s poetries cheered her where he could only seem to make her cry?

In silence, he picked up his things and together, they went to saddle the horses. They, at least, seemed happy to finally be traveling somewhere. Being cooped up in the stables was hard on war-trained mounts.

“Can I come with you? As far as the meeting point?”

Mitsuhide nodded. “Of course.” He couldn’t help the bitter twist to his smile. “I wouldn’t deny you that.”

Neither of them said much on the ride through town. The air felt heavy, and it seemed wrong to push sound out into that darkness. Though unspoken words churned in his chest.

The chatelaine looked lost in thought as she rode. Her posture in the saddle, relaxed. Her eyes forward, looking at some distant point and trusting her mount to navigate the empty streets. It made Mitsuhide proud to see how far she’d come. How much she learned. He held back the compliment though, worried what other words would escape with it, should he speak.

Soon enough, they passed the city gates. The last of the dim torchlight fell behind them, and ahead lay only rolling fields and an endless expanse of stars. Mitsuhide felt lost in it. He had messed this up, as he’d known he would. Giving his love only tears. If Yoshimoto could make her smile with only words on a paper . . . perhaps . . .

The dark figures of Motonari and Kennyo took shape in the darkness ahead. Their horses stood in the field nearby, heads down and grazing. Mitsuhide stopped as they got close enough to make out their allies’ faces. He turned to his little one, feeling brittle like rusted iron. “This is as far as you may come. Turn your horse and go back to the inn.”

Not the parting words of a lover but right now he couldn’t trust himself to be himself. He needed this mask. The kitsune warlord, heartless and cold. It would hold him together. It had to.

“I will.”

Motonari scoffed. “Is that all yer gonna say? Ya know, in tha west they kiss to say goodbye. Ya should try it! Maybe slip her some tongue -”

“Keep your vulgar thoughts to yourself,” Kennyo rumbled. “Your bellowing is disturbing the horses.” He threw the pirate an icy glare. Without looking away from Mouri, he said, “Mitsuhide - we will go on ahead. Do not keep us waiting.” Then he grabbed Mouri’s arm and pulled him toward their mounts.

Mitsuhide didn’t know if he should be grateful or resentful of the courtesy. Now he was alone with his love, and his heart trembled near to shattering. Conflicting emotions tore at him. Jealousy and worry, love, anxiety, doubt . . . he couldn’t let any of it show.

His little one dismounted, beckoning for him to follow. Reluctantly, he did.

Her face was angelic in the starlight. Like a spirit. The silver moon shone in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Mitsuhide, I want you to have this.”

It was hard to look away from her beauty to see what she held. When he did, his eyes widened. “This -!” The bellflower hairpin. He felt stunned, frozen in place. What did this mean? Why? His gaze lifted to meet hers.

She reached for him with her empty hand and touched his cheek. “This is my prayer for victory. Kyubei told me that’s what it symbolizes.” She pressed it into his hand. “I want you to keep it with you while we are apart. Don’t lose it though! It’s my only precious bellflower.”

Her smile was radiant.

“You are a wonder.” Mitsuhide could not stop a tear escaping his eyes, but she wiped it away with her thumb before it could fall. “I thought . . . I thought you would wish me goodbye in tears. Or -” Or tell him she’d had enough of this life, that the shadows around him were more than she could take.

His little mouse nodded. “I might have but I came to a few decisions about myself. Most importantly, that I’m tough enough to be by your side no matter what.”

He blinked. “You . . . decided that as you packed? And . . . read that letter?”

“Yep.” She laughed softly. “It’s funny, actually. I was beginning to doubt myself. I am not the kind of strong you are. I am not a warrior. But I am strong like me - you taught me that. To trust myself and my ideals.”

Her eyes were so warm, and Mitsuhide felt himself leaning into her touch.

“That letter from Yoshimoto reminded me of the things I’ve done. And all the lessons you taught me so that I could survive in this world. We make each other stronger.”

Mitsuhide put his arms around her, still holding the bellflower hairpin tightly. “All of that, you decided in such a short time, hm?”

She laughed again and nuzzled his chest. “It was already inside me, I’d just forgotten how to use it. And now I can access that strength when I need to.”

He stroked her hair, enjoying the closeness. His heartbeat was thundering in his chest, but the anxiety was fading. Leaving behind it only his love for her and the promise of a life together. How had he lost sight of that, even for a moment?

“I want you to remember your strength too. You don’t need to burn yourself out to protect me. Use your strength to fight your hardest. I will be here, waiting for you. Safe.”

Mitsuhide whispered her name into the night, full of his love for her. His heart in each syllable.

“Make sure you come back to me, Mitsuhide.”

His lips curled up in a genuine smile. “You surprised me again, little one.” He pulled away enough to see her expression. “Instead of tears, my weepy little mouse wishes me good fortune. With a smile like the sun.”

“Hey! Did you call me weepy?” Her laughter rang out, fierce and full of joy. “I’ll make you weep for that!”

“Mmm, and it is that fiery tongue and heart that never breaks that made me fall in love with you. Thank you for reminding me.” He tucked the bellflower beneath his armor to keep it safe. Then lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her wrist, feeling the beat of her heart through her warm skin. It matched the rhythm of his own.

She shivered at the touch and her cheeks pinked. A reaction he loved to see. It made him wish for homecoming sooner rather than later.

“You’ve shown me resolve, beloved. And as your future husband, I must show you I can do at least as much. I will return to you.”

His little one studied his face for a moment, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

“You should save those words for my return.” He felt his grin widen but he couldn’t help himself. “Because when I do, I will give you cause to say them so much that you grow tired of repeating yourself.”

He pulled her close once more, wanting to feel her warmth a little longer. Only knowing that Kennyo and Motonari stood a little ways off stopped him from doing more than holding her. “I promise you,” he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, “when I return, I will tease you mercilessly. I will tease you until all you can think of is my touch. And I still won’t stop . . .”

She took a deep, trembling breath. “I am looking forward to it. And you know . . . you aren’t the only one that can tease!” Then she stepped back. “I should let you leave. Good luck, Mitsuhide.”

His smile held his gratitude and love. With one last wave, he watched her mount her horse and turn back for the city gates.

“That’s one wide grin yer wearin’” Motonari chuckled as he approached. “Ya slipped her some -”

Kennyo’s growl cut him off before he could finish. “Speed and silence.”

“Yes, let’s not keep the shogun waiting,” Mitsuhide agreed. He should have been tired, but he felt full of vigor. This would not be easy - but he knew they could do it.

The three men mounted and rode into the night.

Next: Siege