#The idea of being completely and utterly helpless when faced with a child who is set on suicide

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

.

[wri0thesley]

I'd love to request more Naoya smut with him and a now pregnant!reader from that breeding fic because him busting a nut thinking about how good they'll look knocked up really made me feel some type of way!!! maybe reader-chan will even finally get a smooch from this HORRIBLE man. If you are not into doing continuations on requests no worries tho and thank you for your incredible writing as always, Nat!

reader can have a little smooch. as a treat. don’t let naoya hear you say he’s not a good husband <3

Expecting - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.3k)

Both of you got what you wanted. Naoya got more than he bargained for. sequel to covet.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni! afab reader, fem pronouns. pregnancy sex, light lactation, misogyny, power imbalance, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, naoya perhaps having some Feelings???.

[comments/reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Naoya catches you every so often for the next month and you easily roll onto your back for him, helpless under the brush of his fingers and the snap of his hips. He smirks at you when he passes you in the corridor, but you have nothing to show for all of the times you’ve warmed his bed – yet.

When you do, though – when a month and a half passes, and you are beginning to feel sick in a morning, and your monthly bleed has still not made itself known – you go to Naoya with deference in your eye. Once a servant, always a servant – and you are not stupid. You know that what you carry inside you is a bargaining chip.

Naoya wants someone who will submit, and you want an end to the life of drudgery and roughened hands and back-breaking work, of being ignored or reviled or mocked for having the misfortune to not be born with Zenin as a surname. Naoya takes you to a private, discreet physician with an iron grip on your arm and his light eyes sharp.

It’s amazing, how quickly a man like Naoya Zenin can set things in motion – when it’s not simply confirmed that you’re carrying his child, but that you’re carrying his son. His heir.

It’s so easy for him.

Suddenly you are no longer a maid, but Naoya’s betrothed – and though the other members of the household look at you in disgust, knowing that you spread your legs for the title, none of them dare risk Naoya’s ire by being outright rude to you. He and his family spin it like silk; not that Naoya took advantage of a servant, but that you have been part of some grand, beautiful Cinderella story – that Naoya is in love with you.

(It’s probably for the better that the Zenins prefer servants who can see cursed spirits, at the very least – if you had not had any kind of talent for jujutsu, who knows what would have happened to you? Naoya would not have risked his son being born utterly ordinary).

And then you are Naoya’s wife. It wouldn’t do, of course, for the future head of the family to have his heir and son born out of wedlock, even if society have progressed enough that you falling pregnant with said son was before the betrothal. The latter is a disgrace; the former is a laugh over a cup of sake in the dark, a toast to Naoya’s virility, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at how lucky Naoya is to have found someone who gives themselves up so utterly and completely and easily, including their virtue--

You know that Naoya is not in love with you. You are fairly certain that the only thing Naoya loves is his name, and the power imbued therein. Still. You share a bed with him, and you’re given silken kimonos and pretty hair ornaments and anything that you ask for, and you are . . .

Respected is not quite the right word. Not for a woman who is Naoya’s. Certainly, he does not respect you.

But you are not reviled, not ignored, not beholden to the demands of your betters. Now, you are one of the betters, and if your fellow servants are frustrated that they have to bow to you in deference, they do not dare show it knowing that if you asked Naoya, he would have them punished for the transgression.

You had perhaps thought that once you were bearing his child, Naoya would lose interest in you. You know as well as anyone that nobody would bat an eyelid at Naoya seeking his pleasure somewhere else; it’s almost expected of him to have a mistress, a concubine, to go and sow his wild oats just in case the one he has placed inside of you does not yield the crop expected--

But he doesn’t.

Naoya hates you out of his sight. He is always touching you; hands sliding over your hips, cupping where your bump has become soft and round and pronounced, snapping servants to attention if he thinks you look tired or wan or pale. You accompany him almost everywhere. He looks up from speaking to his father to seek you out, as if to reassure himself that you are still there – and some tension in his shoulders seems to drain away.

He is still Naoya, of course.

You are still swiftly reprimanded by him if you speak out of turn, he still gets servants to do anything for you so he doesn’t have to do it himself, you still walk three steps behind him with your head bowed unless he bids you to do something else – but as time goes on, and your hips widen and your stomach grows and you feel the baby kick, something in him softens.

And something else hardens.

His desire on your flesh, on your form, does not wane. You grow used to the feeling of tangled silken bedsheets below you, of Naoya’s handsome face above you, of the groan and the whine as he spills himself inside of you for the third time that night. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

That initial thrill, of being wanted by someone like Naoya, doesn’t fade at all, even though you too are now bowed to in the corridors and the people below you have to jump at your command. And Naoya is not cruel for no reason. Despite the arrogance in his tone, the condescension that drips off of his slow, drawling words, the particular way he has of raising one eyebrow and letting his gaze crawl over you – you have come to enjoy being his.

You did not want equality, after all. You knew your place.

You just wanted better – and Naoya has provided you that in spades.

He’s got his arms spread out over the pillows, his shoulders strong, his eyes hungry as he watches you strip off the kimono you have been wearing today. Your wardrobe now is the height of luxury; all beautiful embroidery, delicate colours, fabrics that cost more than your former monthly salary. Kimono are not made to cling to your body; though people can tell that you are pregnant, it does not over-emphasise your hips or the newly swollen, heavy breast, or the curve of your stomach. Those are things that Naoya never tires of seeing, as the fabric pools around your ankles and the hadajuban is discarded and so are your underwear, and you stand before him utterly bare and unmistakably carrying his child.

“Stay there,” he says, “let me look at you.”

You are a good, well-trained, obedient thing. You stand there as Naoya’s gaze roves over you, straying over and over again to where your hips have filled out even more, where your stomach is curved – where your breasts have begun to droop a little from how heavy and swollen with milk they are. He sighs as he looks you over, and it is the sigh of a man who is indeed very pleased with his work.

“You can move,” he says. He moves the covers off of him, and you are not surprised to see that he is bare; that his cock is already stirring, heavy and thick between his thighs. “Come.” He crooks a finger at you, and you are grateful to be able to move, to take the weight off your ankles as you’re permitted to sit on the bed beside him. His arms wrap around you – they are strong, and certain, and he holds you like you are his property.

Which you suppose you are. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and he makes a soft huff of amusement, but doesn’t say anything about how brazen you are. You are permitted some special favours, now that you are Naoya’s, and now that you are fulfilling your purpose so beautifully.

Naoya’s lips brush your ear, his tongue lapping at the curve of your neck, the joint between throat and shoulder. You sigh prettily, the warmth of his mouth on you making you shiver. One of his hands curls around your breast, enjoying the heavy weight of you in his hand. Thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple.

He was rough with you the first time, but now he treats you like porcelain – and the idea that you are precious to Naoya Zenin sets your stomach aflame, makes your breath stick in your throat. He tugs at it softly, coaxing you to sigh, a drop of liquid leaking from the sensitive nub as you squirm backwards into his lap. His tone is lightly warning as he says;

“Come on, be good. It’s a good sign, sweetheart.”

He calls you sweetheart in front of other people and the ones who have bought this rags-to-riches Cinderella story exchange looks that say ‘isn’t she lucky?’. You hear the light edge in it, the smirk, the loftiness – but it always seems to break into something that’s almost fond, when he’s inside you and touching you and his teeth bite into your neck.

“Just that your body is doing what it’s supposed to do,” your other nipple is subjected to the same treatment, and you feel Naoya’s breath hitch, his cock stir behind you and dig into the small of your back. “I think the moment he’s in his nursery I’m going to fuck another son into you, dearest.”

“Mm?” You say, a little breathless as his hand goes lower. He sweeps his palm over the curve of your stomach, pausing where the skin is tight and swollen. His cock twitches once more at the reminder of how utterly his you are, and how wonderfully you are doing your purpose. How lucky he is, to have found someone submissive and well-trained and obedient and sweet, who looks so luscious full of him.

You drive him to distraction even when you don’t realise he’s looking at you.

“Thighs apart,” he grunts, into your ear, and you comply with the docile nature of someone raised to serve. He loves that about you. Loves, too, when he dips his fingers between your legs and your slick coats his digits, a soft whine catching in the back of your throat as he circles your clit and little shocks spark all through you, making you almost clamp your thighs back around his hand.

You do not, though. You are well-behaved. And you and Naoya have played this game enough times that you know that this is leading to relief for both of you.

One of his long fingers slides inside of you and you widen your thighs more, your soft whimper breaking and pitching – it’s such a servile, sweet little noise that Naoya cannot help but crook his finger, let it rub against the textured spot on your inner walls that has you clenching and gasping.

Since your pregnancy, you have become so sensitive. Naoya is the kind of man who hates working to pleasure a woman – who considers your orgasm a choice, and his a foregone conclusion. But with you swollen and full with his seed, he is slow and indulgent – and it is so easy, now that a brush of his palm makes you shiver and a tug of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp.

The finger is pulled out of you, and Naoya raises it to your lips, hooking his finger inside so you open your mouth and let him press your own slick onto your tongue.

Your tongue gently suckling at his finger reminds him of the insistent pounding of need inside of him; the stiff cock, leaking pre-come. He’d gotten so distracted touching you and enjoying you he’d almost forgotten about his own pleasure, and he sighs as he props himself up on pillows and reaches for you.

“Get comfortable,” he tells you.

His preference is to have you beneath him; that, he thinks, is his wife’s proper place. But it has begun to be difficult, with your stomach so distended – and he is nothing, he thinks to himself with more than a touch of smugness, if not an indulgent provider. A good husband.

(That’s what he thinks, anyway. You are not hurt. You get pretty things, and him in your bed, and the estate’s servants at your beck and call, an expensive wedding ring on your finger and the honour of his name affixed to yours, and his seed taking root inside of you. What else could you ask of him?)

So you are permitted to spread your knees, to climb on top of him – to gently sink your tight, wet, heat about his cock and seat yourself comfortably on the muscle of his thighs and the flat planes of his stomach.

“If you had my view,” he says, teasingly. “Mm, you were really made as breeding stock, weren’t you?” The words make heat rush to your face as he cups your hips in his hand again, squeezing the new covering of plush flesh that you’ve acquired since your pregnancy. “My wife.”

The words send a quiet thrill through you. You sigh as he bottoms out, as your body meets his entirely; your hands splaying on his shoulders. He is not flat against the bed – that position is too weak, not fitting for a man of his stature. But he is propped up with pillows behind him, so that he can admire how you look as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip and you lift yourself just a little off his straining cock, before letting yourself fall back down.

He lets you set the pace. If you are to be permitted to ride him, he thinks, you may as well be the one doing all of the work. Part of him, too, is afraid of touching you too much – of hurting you, when you have something so precious inside of you. He would not admit that to himself – that’s not a thought process befitting of someone of his stature. But . . . it nibbles at the corners of his consciousness.

He cares about you. He does not want to hurt you. He does not want you to be uncomfortable – not when you are doing such a good job, when you are so lovely for him, when he is so grateful to have found you--

It’s no more than I deserve, he reminds himself.

And to brush back thoughts that are not proper for his elevation station in life, he lets himself watch the bounce of your breasts. Lets his fingers dig into the even softer, rounder thighs. Enjoys the sight of your mound bouncing on his cock, the feel of your slick walls clinging to his cock.

You are so beautiful, swollen with his child.

It is the first time he has ever looked at a woman and saw power in them. There is, he thinks, a power in what you have – in the glow about your skin, the brightness of your eyes, the curves and roundness and soft, supple flesh. The thought almost frightens him – but then, you push up again and your eyes meet his own for just a moment and he remembers that you are swollen with his child and have the power of him inside of you, and it becomes comforting.

Without him, you’d be nothing.

So he watches you with hungry eyes as you move your hips on his cock; as his length sinks inside of you, as you angle yourself just so – so that every stroke of your hips makes his cock rub against the place inside you that earlier had you seeing stars. Your breath is getting faster and faster, your fingers on his shoulders flexing as the tight string of your release is wound inexorably closer and closer.

Naoya allows himself a groan; a light thrust of his hips, in time with your own. The chase of your warm, tight walls as you try and pull away. He lets his gaze wander to how his cock is coated in your slick, all wet and shining in the light of the bedroom – and he is once more reassured. This is his. You are his. This wetness, this need – this is all for him. The way your body has changed is because of him.

His own release is creeping up on him.

Today, though, he decides he will be merciful – he reaches forward , curving his fingers just so, so that he can toy with your clit as you continue to fuck him. He rolls the bud with the pad of his fingers (soft; he wields just one weapon, and most people do not get to see it. Most of his harder work is done with his technique, and you have seen him apply expensive hand cream to keep himself handsome), knowing your body as well as he knows his own.

He prides himself on that, and you have spent enough nights in his bed that it is second nature to him. Women are predictable, he thinks, smirk on his face as your channel clenches around his hard cock and you come, whimpering out his name--

(In bed, he prefers Naoya-sama, and you are a good wife. Your tone is servile, soft, obedient – and in return, Naoya is almost sweet to you.)

He thrusts his hips roughly up into you, chasing his own release as your body spasms and trembles about him. You are still so tight; so hot and taut where the aftershocks are making you tremble. It’s the sight of your body, quivering under your release, that does it in the end.

Your hips and stomach and breasts and thighs, all rounded with the miracle of bearing life. All softened and plump; meek and pliant, a perfect little wife. His perfect little wife.

As he feels the tension inside of him snap, one of his hands winds about the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Naoya’s grunt of pleasure is lost in the kiss, his mouth against yours hard and hungry. He is not willing to give up his dominance even here – but . . .

He has not kissed you so intimately before.

He has always avoided your mouth, preferring his lips on your chest or neck – turning your face away if it had seemed you might go for his mouth (later on, he had not bothered – he knows you well enough now to know that you would not dare.)

He tastes like wine. Like fancy, expensive sweets; the kind that you could have never afforded before you were his, but he has had at his disposal for his whole life. Like a cross between freedom and a prison--

He groans as he fills you up; his cock twitching, shooting out thick ropes of his come to land thick and heavy in your insides. Your whimper at the sensation is lost in his mouth, but Naoya fails to miss it – the fingers around the nape of your neck stroke through your hair, almost comforting, as he pulls back from you.

His lips are shiny, full and pretty. The grin that he gives you is crooked – and though you know it should not, though you know you should hate him for being arrogant and cruel and considering you lesser than him, the grin sends a rush of affection all through you.

If you were sentimental, you would say that the affection is mirrored in his own pale eyes.

(Naoya is glad you are not; you cannot see, beneath the triumph that you are claimed and carrying his heir and the hunger for your body and the pleasure that you are exactly the kind of wife that he wanted, that perhaps he does care about you.)

“My little wife,” he says, and he brushes his thumb over your cheek, hot with the rush of blood. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’ll carry on being so.

You’re so lovely when you’re expecting.

[jaskier-cult]

The Witcher With Blue Eyes

*throws this at you* random bullshit, go!

here, take some random ramblings of an au i came up with!! no fucking idea where i am going with this, but you can't stop me

*

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

Geralt was still a relatively new witcher, just five years on the Path, when this rumor appeared, and he was not naïve enough to fall for such fodder.

All witchers had yellow eyes. This was a given. None of the witcher schools had the exact same mutagens – every school was just slightly different, imbuing their witchers with the characteristics of the wild beast they represented – but all witchers had yellow eyes. That was how it was. That was how the mutagens worked. That was how a witcher could be recognized.

A witcher with blue eyes.

Geralt scoffed.

*

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

There are stories of a witcher who strangled a wyvern with his bare hands, out of madness.

There are stories of a witcher who laughed, with empty blue eyes, as he danced with his twin blades and wrought cold blood.

Geralt is no longer new to the Path, and he has heard these stories for a while now. Even among his own brethren, the stories are whispered and shared. His mentors talk about blue eyes with cold indifference, but it’s apparent they are unsettled. A blue eyed witcher – who ever heard of such a thing?

But then the School of Viper loses its most infamous witcher in its own keep. In the blink of an eye.

And Geralt’s not so sure they’re rumors anymore.

*

Julian was different.

Even before the mutagens and the training and the trauma, he was always slightly to the left.

When he arrived at the steps of the School of the Viper, he had been scared witless. Gorthur Gvaed, the Viper Keep, also known affectionately as Blood Gate Keep by its inhabitants, was located deep in the Tir Tochair mountains. It was the furthest south Julian had ever been; it had been months from the lands he had grown up in.

It was also the furthest he had ever travelled, dead on his feet as he followed the viper witcher down the beaten Path, in boots not cut-out for the long days walking.

The witcher rode his horse while Julian walked. Julian was never allowed to touch the stallion and was threatened with the loss of his hand otherwise. The witcher only stopped when Julian could go no further, and sometimes then, forced the stumbling boy on with a crushing grip on his arm. Julian would sway on his feet, his vision would swim, and not even his not-so-human blood could save him from his human needs, like food, and water, and rest.

The witcher never gave him his name. He did not speak except to give commands. He called Julian names like “wretch” and “bastard.” He never called Julian by his name.

He was cold and cruel, like the village kids used to be to Julian.

Julian did not like the witcher.

But then they would pass through a village or small backwater hamlet, and he would see the sneers and barely disguised looks of disgust on the humans’ faces. The witcher may have thought him a mindless child, but he was smart, and he noticed when the witcher was forced to pay over three times the asking price for services like horse stabling and food. He saw when the witcher was scammed on hunts when they made their way south. He caught the whispers and murmurs of half-baked plans to murder the witcher in his sleep, just for being different.

He bore witness to the mistreatment of the witcher.

And though he damned himself for thinking it, Julian understood. He felt a kinship with the witcher.

And it did not excuse the witcher’s behaviour. It did not excuse his cruelness. Hurting others was a choice, no matter how hurt you were. But even then, a small part of Julian could sympathize with the man who was beat into this cruel soul.

They weren’t so different from each other, cruelness and all.

It took a long time for the witcher to trust Julian enough to leave him unsupervised – always with a threat lingering, of promising to hunt him down and slit his throat if he tried to run away – but when he finally did, Julian made no attempt to escape because he knew there was no point.

But Julian would never forget the face of the witcher when he came back from a hunt to find their camp painted with blood, Julian sitting by the fire and methodically cleaning the dagger he had successfully slipped from the witcher without notice. Several bodies lay on the outskirt of the camp; bandits who had made the mistake of thinking Julian was helpless.

An arm was missing from one of the bandits and the fire in the middle of the camp was roaring, the wood stacked high and the flames impossibly hot. Julian roasted his meal over the fire. It served the witcher for leaving him to starve, he thought bitterly.

And just once, Julian preened when he saw the way the witcher looked at him.

With something more than contempt.

With something akin to unease.

Julian was eight that night.

*

Julian was nothing.

Julian certainly wasn’t special when he arrived at Blood Gate Keep. He certainly wasn’t the first more-than-human boy to be claimed by a witcher and taken for the Trials.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was a contradiction of bloodlines, was the product of a shameless family.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was not special. Julian was not different. Julian was not more.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was not going to survive, because he was weak and small and he didn’t listen, and Julian was nothing. He was nothing. He was nothing. He was nothing. That was drilled into him as sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

Because Julian was nothing.

*

Every witcher school had the boys relentlessly train. The mutagens only did so much, and there was no success if there was talent without skill. Julian learned this very early on.

But Blood Gate Keep, despite the Trials, and physical training, and reading in bestiaries, still had all young witchers in training go through a final exam: The First Hunt. It was a physical exam before the Trials took place. The young boys had to survive in the surrounding wilderness for several days isolated and alone and make a kill; every boy was put out prepared with weapons and camping gear and told not to come back until they had proof of their kill.

Blood Gate Keep was in a remote location, more remote than other witcher schools, far away from any human civilization in the mountains, and as such the surrounding lands were wild and untamed. Mindless beasts and monsters roamed the base of the mountains, hid in the passing rivers, and hung in the low clouds.

Nobody thought of running away, for that only led to death.

The boys were given two weeks to complete The First Hunt, and no more. If they came back without proof of kill, they were slaughtered. Sometimes the vipers of the keep would take pity and leave them to starve out in the wilderness, alone.

Any monster would do, as long as it was dead and killed.

Sometimes the boys went for small monsters, or babes of monsters not yet old enough to walk and open their eyes. Some boys killed wildlife and maimed it so much it was indistinguishable from any other monstrous corpse, and they would claim it a monster. No one ever batted an eye at them.

Julian was thrown out of the keep with nothing but a bedroll and his dagger.

His mentors laughed as they closed the door on the young boy.

No one thought he would survive the Trials, much less complete The First Hunt.

He set out with a vengeance.

He survived out of pure spite.

And he marched straight back up the mountain to Blood Gate Keep, soaked in the blood of an arch griffin, blue eyes wild, the tongue of the griffin ripped straight from its mouth with his bare hands.

His dagger was clean.

*

The other boys in the keep were cruel, just like the witcher who brought him there. Even within the confines of stone walls, with death imminent, his peers still couldn’t find it within themselves to be kind toward him.

Julian has watched many boys comfort each other on cold nights, has watched older boys console the younger, has noticed the way many boys sleep together because of nightmares.

But not with him.

They tease and mock him.

They push and shove him.

They point and stare.

He’s the only one with eyes as blue as his, with a streak of wild that could not be tamed by their mentors, almost feral. He’s the only one who didn’t bow and snap under the cruelties of Blood Gate Keep. The only one who was not infected with hatred.

And none of the other boys can sympathize with him because they don’t understand him. Julian does not wish to hurt others. All the boys at Blood Gate Keep were going through the same thing, but it affected all of them differently. And some of the boys took the lessons they were handed and grew up bitter and wishing others could feel their hurt; others took their lessons and grew up tired and wishing others would never feel their hurt.

But none of it matters because the other boys still hate Julian.

It hurts, because even among a group of those who knew what he was going through, he still felt utterly alone. He was slipped poison in his drinks. His food was swiped. His clothes were shredded. He was targeted in training. There was no end to the cruelness, from mentors and peers alike.

Some days Julian falls mute from the sheer pressure pushing in on him from everything and everyone.

One day Julian is almost killed in his sleep by another boy in his cohort, and no one says anything when that boy never shows up again. It was not uncommon – even normal – for those in Blood Gate Keep to betray each other and sabotage others. It was encouraged. And still, Julian forces himself from his bed to live to see another day.

Julian uses his disadvantages to his advantage.

Everyone underestimates him.

He understands why.

Julian is small. Even with all the hormone packed lichen and meat the witchers fed the boys at the keep in preparation for training and Trials. Julian is thin where the other boys are broad, he is lean where the other boys are muscled. Julian has soft features. He has soft floppy hair and soft blue eyes. The other boys have stringy hair and deep shit-coloured eyes, even if they weren’t brown.

*

Julian won’t survive the Trials because he’s too weak. He’s not quite human, but he is still weak in the eyes of his mentors. Julian doesn’t do what he’s told. He will fail.

But within Julian’s small frame is a feral animal.

And it’s almost laughable when he sees their reaction every time they push, push, push – and he finally pushes back, finally snaps at them – and they’re shocked. Like they never saw it coming, even though it happened every time.

You don’t see what you don’t want to believe, supposedly.

*

Julian learned that the School of the Viper did things a little differently than the other witcher schools, and he wasn’t surprised.

He wasn’t surprised to learn of his school’s failings.

*

Julian passes through the Trials, to everyone’s shock.

Julian comes out of the Trials with his same inhuman blue eyes, to everyone’s shock.

Julian slits the throat of the witcher who had brought him to Blood Gate Keep, to no one’s shock.

Probably because they never found out it was him.

*

Witchers weren’t liked, but some schools had better reputations than others.

Certainly, the wolves of Kaer Morhen had the most heroic reputation; headstrong and loyal, with more morals than most witchers, disregarding that most witchers didn’t have morals at all.

The cats of Stygga Castle were known to be maniac, either lacking all emotion or treading the fine line of insanity with too much emotion; they killed not just traditional monsters, but also monsters of the human variety, and would take any contract for an innocent’s head if given enough coin.

But the vipers of Gorthur Gvaed were neither of those.

Vipers were predators, through and through.

The mutagens the School of Viper used did not tamper with emotions the way the mutagens from the School of Cat did; it did not need to, for every Viper that came out of Blood Gate Keep was beaten into a cruel and merciless man.

The School of Viper did not raise witchers with morals of a sense of duty to humanity, the way the School of Wolf did; vipers were not safe even within the walls of their own keep, for they never knew when a peer would turn on them for coin, vengeance, or fun. Witchers who stayed in the keep were constantly kept on their toes, their drinks poisoned in game, their training brutal and to the death, and vipers learned early on that you needed to strike first to win, lest your comrade do it first.

Vipers weren’t noble, and vipers weren’t insane; they were just senseless.

*

It was a lie that Cats were the most unstable witchers.

Cats may have had a reputation for being short a marble, but vipers were completely unpredictable.

*

Being the best got you nowhere in Blood Gate Keep.

His fellow witchers and mentors thought Julian weak. They only saw his blue eyes and small frame and soft voice, and their eyes passed over him.

That was good.

Being smart, being strong, being fast – those were traits that made you a target in the Viper’s den.

It was a constant battle of trying to best one another, trying to come out on top, trying to eliminate any form of threat, even if that threat was a fellow witcher, one of the few boys to make it through the Trials with you. Boys were poisoned left and right. Throats were slit. Witchers died in training if they weren’t strong enough, because a Viper never showed mercy, even when it was his brother who lay at the other end of his blade.

After all, if you couldn’t survive a spar, what good were you on The Path?

Julian used all weapons and tools at his disposal.

He never initiated an attack; he was never the one pouring acid in another’s stew, he didn’t engage in to-the-death spars, he never snuck through the keep and assassinated a fellow brother.

His behaviour wasn’t born out of morals, he soon realized.

It was predatory behaviour, like the Viper he was.

An opportunistic predator.

Julian sat in waiting; he waited for another to initiate the struggle against death. And then, before they could blink, before they could realize that their easy target isn’t so easy, they’re gone.

It was amusing to watch as his peers’ brows furrowed in confusion as to why he was still alive.

And yet, no one figured it out.

No one suspects the fool, after all.

Julian was probably the most dangerous Viper in the keep.

*

As soon as Julian earned his Viper medallion, he left Blood Gate Keep and never looked back.

Julian felt silly wearing two medallions at once, and with great reluctance, he took off the medallion from his parents and packed it at the bottom of his pack with care. He knew his new witcher medallion would be of more use, and would probably save his life, whereas he didn’t know the first thing about how to work the medallion his parents gave him. It was one of the few times he felt truly upset with himself, for all his achievements at Blood Gate Keep, he couldn’t figure out a simple magic piece.

Nonetheless, he didn’t bother with goodbyes or a grand departure. He felt no comradery with the vipers he had shared a den with.

And maybe he walked away with a few witcher corpses at his feet, but that was neither here nor there.

*

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

But those stories haven’t been told in years, and Geralt forgets about them like bedtime stories told to children when they’re young.

After all, a witcher with blue eyes doesn’t exist.

*

As is the cycle with history, new stories come about.

*

There are stories of a bard with blue eyes.

*

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 1: The Plea ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 1800>

Warnings: canon typical violence

Series Masterlist ** reblogs appreciated!

You were just a child; small and naïve. The screams of anguish and pain that came from outside the palace walls were enough to still traumatize you all these years later. You were the heir to the Mandalorian throne; the daughter of the late Satine Kryze. Her sister, Bo-Katan, had been caring for you since your mother was killed by the treacherous Darth Maul, ally of The Death Watch. After many failed attempts of taking over Mandalore, The Death Watch became part of Maul's Shadow Collective and successfully took control of your sacred home planet. They were responsible for the destruction of your home, the killing of your people and the brutal assassination of your own mother— and you swore that if you were to ever come into contact with a Child of the Watch, they wouldn't live to see the dawn of a new day. To say you held a grudge on that specific Mandalorian tribe was an understatement. If it wasn't for them, your family would still be alive. Your planet would be under Mandalorian reign, free from Imperialism and war.

But now, almost fifteen years later, you were faced with a new problem. A new enemy.

"You have something I want." Moff Gideon snarled, his lips curling upwards into a smirk. His tongue dripped with venom as his dark eyes settled into you.

Your blood boiled as you faced off with the man; an Imperial officer who clearly had more motive than just serving the Empire. You clenched your fingers into a tight fist and took a deep breath, you had to stay calm. Acting irrationally and letting your anger consume you was not the way of Mandalore. You were not a fighter.

"I have nothing. The beskar is long gone— scattered amongst the galaxy for foundlings to utilize. You can't have it," You shot back, folding your arms over your chest. Negotiation was usually your forté but today you were having none of it. "We have nothing here. Nothing you could possibly want."

Moff Gideon chuckled, circling around you. Of course, there was one thing… but surely not. What would a simple ISB officer want with an ancient Mandalorian weapon?

"The darksaber," He affirmed, and your greatest fears had been realised. "Where is it?"

You swallowed, shaking your head profusely. "I have no idea what you're talking about." you lied. Stay calm. Stay calm.

"You are the princess of Mandalore, are you not? Your mother was Duchess Satine Kryze. You were a child born out of wedlock… never knew your own father…" he chuckled as he noticed the way fear flicked in your eyes. He may have had access to the Imperial Security Bureau but how could he possibly know so much? There was definitely more to Moff Gideon than met the eye. "Yes dear, assume that I know everything. I suppose you aren't the first controversial thing to come out of the Mandalorian culture." Moff Gideon made a sweeping gesture with his gloved hand and two of his flame troopers stormed past you, entering the secret underground lair of your palace.

The lair was where you kept everything of significance. Every memory, every piece of history. Your collection of Mandalorian armour, your mother's keepsakes from her time in power, your personal supply of beskar, and of course, the darksaber.

"You and your people have already taken everything from me," you spat, a helpless tear falling down your cheek. "What more could you want?"

Before he could reply, you heard the troopers' modulated voice through Gideon's commlink. "Sir, we've located the weapon."

Gideon grinned and pushed past you, his crimson trimmed cape brushing against your body as he entered the lair. You couldn't even formulate words. Your blood ran cold and there was nothing you could do to stop the Moff. The Imps were raiding your palace and they were taking everything from you, showing absolute no remorse. When Gideon returned, he was wielding the darksaber. He held the fizzling blade to your neck and your whole body stiffened.

"I won't kill you." He said after a few anxiety induced moments.

"Then you are not worthy." you protested. Moff Gideon cocked his head but you did not regret your words. He could strike you down in this moment and it would all be over. He had the power. "Those who wield the darksaber are the rightful rulers of Mandalore," you had no doubt he already knew this, but it didn't stop you from speaking your many thoughts out loud as you desperately tried to comprehend what was going on. If Moff Gideon wielded the darksaber it meant that you had to forgo your title of princess. "You are the Manda'lor now." you confirmed, feeling completely and utterly exasperated. The kingdom was his. You were worn out— you had cried one too many tears. There had been so much bloodshed and you couldn't help but feel responsible. This was your moment of weakness.

"I know that," he scoffed. "But nobody is to know that I took the darksaber. This remains a secret between you and me. Understood?" The Imperial Officer ignited the saber once more and impaled the two flame troopers who had helped him raid your secret lair. "Who would've thought killing could be so fun?" He chuckled as the bodies fell to the floor. The screams of your people became louder, ringing like bells in your ears as you closed your eyes. You could only hope that some managed to flee and leave the planet.

"You're a monster." you gritted out.

"Is that any way to speak to your ruler? Now, I still have things to do… people to see. From this day forward I declare Mandalore under Imperial reign, and you my dear… you are still the princess. I can't kill you because you may be the last of the Kryze bloodline— I need you, here, ruling my kingdom," Gideon turned off the saber and attached it to his belt. "Until we meet again." he smirked before spinning around on his heel and exiting the palace.

You ran to the bay window of your bedroom and pushed it open, clambering out onto the balcony. You gazed upon the horizon as his ship departed the docking bay. The cold air took your breath away and tears glazed your eyes as you watched stormtroopers raid your town, killing anybody who dared to stand in their way. Bodies were piling up. So much death and destruction. You reached up to your chest and pulled out your mythosaur pendant; the one you had inherited from your mother before she died, and let your thumb graze the details of the pure silver beskar.

You felt like a failure. You'd failed your mother, you'd failed Bo-Katan, and you'd failed the Mandalorian creed. You swore from that moment on that Moff Gideon's decision to keep you alive would be the biggest mistake of his life. You were the princess of Mandalore and you would gain control of your planet once more.

One year later, and you were still filled with deep-seated anguish. You hadn't seen Moff Gideon since that dreaded night where his troops raided and took over your home planet of Mandalore. All you could do was smile and put on a brave face— but you were walking on a fine line and every day was becoming more and more and unbearable. More death and decay. You were losing hope. You wanted to fight this yourself, just like your mother had raised you, but you knew that you were no match against an army of Imperials. So you sent out a distress call to any living Mandalorians. You lived in a vast galaxy and you knew you couldn't be alone. There had to be someone who could help you. There had to be someone out there.

The Armorer was forging a new pauldron for Din Djarin when the call reached her. Upon hearing your voice, she dropped everything, her tools and the beskar clinking as they fell to the ground. She raced to accept your plea for help, noting down every ounce of information that you provided her with.

"The princess of Mandalore lives." she gasped, turning to Din.

"The princess?" Din asked, furrowing his eyebrows together in bewilderment. Despite his face being masked by a helmet, the Armorer was Din's mentor and she had known him long enough to sense when he was confused. "I thought she died during the great purge… I thought that-"

"Mandalore was under Imperial reign?" The Armorer cut him off. "It is. But the princess somehow lives."

"As an Imperial?" Din beckoned further.

"As a hostage to the Empire." The Armorer revealed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to process everything you told her.

"What did she say?" Din questioned. The Armorer pondered for a second before looking up at the bounty hunter and placing her hands on either side of his broad shoulders.

"She requires help— protection, if you will. She wishes to form a rebellion against the Empire and restore Mandalore to its former glory."

"There's no way," Din huffed. "She must have a death wish."

"I know… everything about this is unusual. But the last time a Kryze sent out a distress call was after the death of Duchess Satine. It sounds serious. And she is the Manda'lor therefore we must do as she wishes." The Armorer informed Din coldly.

"And what is that?"

"As a Child of the Watch I am sending you out to Mandalore to protect the princess."

"Me?" Din gasped, his voice rising an octave as he pointed his own fingers into his chest. "No no no. I live here, on Nevarro. I'm a member of the Guild. I can't leave that all behind. What if it's a trap set up by the Imps?...And I have Grogu now."

"Sometimes there are sacrifices you must make as a Mandalorian, you know this," The Armorer said matter-of-factly. Din hated that she was right. "The Princess of Mandalore needs you. I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

"And when I get to Mandalore, what do I do?" Din sighed.

"You marry her, of course. Before Clan Kryze, we were the ones who ruled Mandalore. Our tribe are the rightful leaders of that planet and to have one of our Children of the Watch marry into the monarchy would mean you could not only restore Mandalore to the Mandalorians, but you could restore it to the old way, the right way. The way of tradition and the way it used to be. It would change the galaxy forever."

Din blinked momentarily and looked to his feet. Marriage? To a princess? There was no point in arguing with the Armorer because Din knew that deep down, she was right, and he could not deny her. The creed had brought him in and gave him everything. They provided him with a family when he'd lost his own, and if marrying a princess was what he had to do to respect his honour, then so be it.

"This is the way." The Armorer chanted, picking up her tools and walking back over to her work station.

She was right. "This is the way."

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat

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Let me know if you wish to be added to my permanent taglist or my Borrowed Time taglist.

[chroma-ki]

What Happens When Society Fails Those Who Could Succeed - A Bakugo Katsuki Analysis

I started this a while ago, but I’ve seen others delve into this topic and I wanted to share as well. This delves into to hero society’s affects on Bakugo Katsuki’s upbringing, his worldview, his self-view, and Izuku’s involvement in breaking down the ideas society has drilled into his head. 

A lot of people like to ignore the fact that Katsuki is a 14-year-old kid at the start of the series and that much of his life, attitude and disposition of the world have been completely shaped by the adults and society around him. 

What do you expect a kid with potential to turn into when they are warped in such a way by a society that dictates that they need to be strong, or nothing at all? What about when your only value is based around a sliding scale of strength and weakness? What happens when that kid’s only source of help comes in the form of a reckless, selfless child who defies all sense of logic and reason (Izuku)?

Growing up, Bakugo was constantly praised for being strong, having a powerful quirk and being generally the smartest person in the room at any given time. He could arguably be considered a prodigy, and much of what he sees and learns feels beneath him -- because it's already on his mind. He is a kid with natural god-given talent that everyone around him immediately recognizes as above average. 

Even as a toddler, he was constantly a step ahead of everyone else. Due to this, people developed a lot of high expectations for him at a young age -- and it doesn't help that he has a naturally competitive streak that makes him constantly want to prove himself and live up to these expectations; even surpass them.

Always being at the top of his class and being ahead of the curve mentally fuel the idea in Katsuki's mind that, in the game of life, he is 'winning'. Yet, at the same time, none of it is ever enough. Other's high expectations of him cause him to build extremely high expectations of himself; expectations that border on unrealistic. They also inflate his ego exponentially when this praise gets reaffirmed time and time again.

Certainly, in a situation where you're raised on other people's praise and validation, it is completely understandable that you would put a lot of emotional emphasis on other people's opinions of you. On top of that, he gives off such a natural and convincing air of confidence that people can't help but feel that he is reliable, despite his attitude. People are awed by him, and all of it feeds into the mental image he has constructed of himself, and the world as a whole. It's the whole reason for a lot of how he acts. He builds an image of himself based on the praise of those around him -- and even Izuku also feeds into this mentality by worshipping the literal ground Katsuki walks on as a kid.

This mentality seems to be working fine for him until Izuku's very presence starts to throw a wrench into everything Katsuki has been raised to believe. 

Izuku completely defies logic to Katsuki. Izuku does not fit the societal norm and, beyond what others have taught him, Izuku is Katsuki’s only real hint that the world might not be quite what he thinks it is, and that his idea of what it means to be strong may not be a ‘one-size fits all’ defenition.

Izuku is a quirkless kid; weak and generally mild-mannered. He doesn't have any self-confidence and is a big crybaby. Yet, Izuku still believes that he can be strong and become a hero -- when Katsuki has always been told the opposite. Katsuki recognizes that this may be some version of strength he is unaware of, and it raises BIG RED FLAGS in his mind.

Where many of Katsuki's other childhood friends were barely more than acquaintances who he forgot over time, Izuku immediately caught Katsuki's interest and spiked his curiosity. Like everyone else in his life, Izuku praised Katsuki and told him all the things he wanted to hear -- but Izuku was also unique and intelligent. Izuku was the first person who actually seemed like they could stand near Katsuki's level; like they might be actual competition. 

Then, Bakugo got his quirk and Izuku is diagnosed as quirkless. The reactions of everyone around him to this news, including Izuku’s own reaction, only go back to telling him what society has told him all along. Strength is everything, and quirks are a part of that desired strength. This is another moment that reaffirms Katsuki's world view. "I won, you lose. I really am the best."

Though Bakugo is super aggressive on the outside, he is a very self-critical character and often means the opposite of whatever he is saying. Especially when it comes to his self-confidence and bravado. 

People often complain when watching the series about him telling people to 'die' and "got to hell", or calling other people "extras", and I don't think enough people understand -- that is just how he speaks. Those are things he says out of reflexive anger. None of those words ever have any real meaning. 

It's more important to pay more attention to the moments in which he is more reserved/quiet. He suffers from both a superiority complex and inferiority complex, as well as paranoia (much of which revolves around his warped idea of how Deku, and other people he values, perceive him). Much of what he says is just empty words or him trying to project an image of self-confidence.

He wears his pride like a suit of armor to hide all the things he doesn't want to admit about himself. He attempts to make up for his own insecurities by getting angry. And he learned this at home from his mother, who is much the same as him.

From the little that we have seen of his parents throughout the series so far, his parents love him and provide him with everything he could possibly need -- but his mother often insults him and throws harsh truths in his face to counteract his cocky nature. One of the most notable instances of this is when All Might and Aizawa are talking to his parents about moving the kids to the dorms and his mom says "If you hadn't have gotten yourself caught by the villains in the first place, none of this would have happened".

That comment feeds directly into his mental breakdown in front of Izuku where he blames himself for All Might's downfall, flat out saying that "If I hadn't been kidnapped by villains, then it never would have happened".

It gets me every time if you go back to the 8th episode of the series, near the VERY BEGINNING -- right after he's defeated by Deku for the first time in combat training -- and the episode literally starts with him having a full on panic attack. 

He's trembling, hands shaking, hyperventilating, the whole deal. And that particular incident was triggered not only by Deku defeating him and standing up to him (which completely contradicts the Izuku that Bakugo has grown up with all his life and feeds into Bakugo's own fear that he is weak), but is also brought on by the fact that he notices how severely Deku allowed himself to be injured JUST TO WIN THE EXCERSIZE. Again, this idea that even the weak can be strong. It also doesn’t help that he cares about Izuku and doesn’t want to see him get hurt.

And I'm sorry -- but below does not look like the face of someone who's pissed off to me. He looks PETRIFIED.

Izuku doesn't just piss Bakugo off -- Izuku TERRIFIES him.

There are actually multiple instances of him reacting like this to Izuku injuring himself throughout the series: sludge villain, sports festival fight against Todoroki and the training camp where Bakugo was kidnapped being the major ones I can think of beyond current managa events. Bakugo may claim to ‘hate’ Deku, but he DOES NOT like to see Deku hurt himself to win, or to save. 

Bakugo saw this 'self-sacrificing' trait in Izuku even as a young kid, and it freaked him out. It made him feel weak. It made him question himself and the world around him.

This fear starts with the incident where Bakugo fell off the log as a kid. 

It wasn't a life threatening situation, but it was the first situation where Izuku rushed to Bakugo's aid with complete disregard to himself AND when everyone else refused to help. 

Bakugo's friends, teachers and parents all held him to such high expectations of intelligence, power and strength -- so of course those would be the values that he grows up idolizing. No one ever really offered him help, because they assumed he didn't need it -- and then Izuku comes rushing in offering it to him, risking his life to do so, and Katsuki's only thought is "Why?! Why do you feel like you have to save me when you can't even protect yourself? Needing to be saved means that I'm weak! Do you think that I'm weak?" I have recently watched another show that had a similar scenario and that character explained what I believe Katsuki felt in this situation BEAUTIFULLY.  ------ “It felt like [he] was trying to say I was weak or something. [He] was intruding on feelings [he] didn’t have any right to – and I hated it. Then that got me thinking about everyone else in my life. They never treated me like I was a weakling; someone who needed his hand held. They had faith that I would continue to grow and they let me do it; helping me without ever making me feel weak.” 

Izuku continues to do this again and again throughout the series when it comes to Bakugo: the slime villain incident, the training camp, etc -- all without fully comprehending how his actions affect Bakugo. Each time this happens, Bakugo feels weak and utterly helpless to save himself OR to stop Izuku. It's all his worst fears realized.

It's like living his worst nightmare over and over without end in sight.

Going back to the concept of him being offered 'help', very few people have offered him this throughout his life -- and they all saw it as something he never really needed. It's like Katsuki's personality and mental state is a huge sign screaming 'I DON'T UNDERSTAND! NOTHING MAKES SENSE! IT MAKES ME MAD AND UPSET! SOMEONE, HELP ME.' and everyone just ignores it.

--- During the log incident - all his friends say 'Oh well, he's fine. He'll pick himself back up.' and Izuku is the only one who offers to help. 

--- The sludge villain incident - all the pro heroes say "We can't help right now! You'll just have to hold on, kid!" and again Izuku is the only one who offers help.

--- After his and Deku’s first fight at Ground Beta, which utterly breaks him, all the other students just let him leave alone and only Izuku rushes to help. All Might sees him upset and crying after this and says, “Oh, I guess he’s already over it” -- when that obviously wasn’t the case. 

--- And then -- to top it all off -- after he was kidnapped by the LOV and held captive for 3 days without help he wasn't even given time to process! He was taken away by police, ridiculed by his mother, forced to go back to school where his teachers acted like nothing happened, jumped into the provisional hero licensing exam with all those helpless feelings rolling around inside of him and on top of it found out that Izuku received All Might's power -- a power that he had spent his whole life putting on a pedestal. And he goes to Izuku for help.

The fact that everyone just brushed him off like he was someone who didn't need help is just disgusting. The only instance where an adult in his life acknowledged that he needed it was AFTER he already had a full on mental breakdown in front of Izuku, blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong and thinking that he had somehow been living his life wrong all this time. Only then did All Might and Aizawa think, ‘Yeah, maybe we failed this kid.’ 

Keep in mind during all of this that he is 15-16-years-old! He's trying to figure out how to deal with this shit all on his own, with the only person he feels comfortable opening up to being Izuku - someone who he has so much trouble understanding.

At the heart of Katsuki is a place of fear. Fear of being weak, fear of being helpless, fear of failure, fear of losing his friends, fear of himself, most certainly fear of Izuku -- and fear FOR IZUKU. He is a boy who lives in a constant state of panic, worry and paranoia. He is lonely and beats down on himself a lot.

The series deals a lot with how hero society has completely failed it's future generations, but Katsuki is a case where they should have succeeded -- yet ultimately they failed him too. He has all the makings of what could be one of the greatest heroes of all time, yet those around him only focused on the parts of him that could make him great and chose to ignore all the parts that would ruin him from the inside out. 

They put him high up on a pedestal only to knock him down and refuse to help him back up. They made him feel like even asking for help was something that made him 'lesser', and it caused him to see other people that way too.

Izuku is the heart of Katsuki's growth, because in every way that Izuku succeeds, Katsuki fails. 

I would actually argue that out of anyone in the series since coming to UA, Katsuki has experienced the highest amount of personal failure. He has been knocked down time and time again but ultimately wants to pick himself back up to prove that he deserves to be there. He fights for his friends and tries his best at everything he does. He doesn't always get it right, and he says things that might offend others, but other than Izuku, he's the most driven person there and would utterly destroy himself to reach his goals.

[gopeachllama]

Someday, Nyx

well i guess beacuse i like to emotionally abuse myself i wrote this lil fic. i got the idea for it from a post i saw about baby nyx being named after rhys' little sister.

sorry for any typos and errors.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1660

Rhysand stared out into the open field before him as he bounced the restless babe in his arms. He supposed he was too. In the weeks leading up to this, he had tried desperately to postpone this day. Scheduling fruitless visits to Illyrian training camps and even the Gods-forsaken Hewn City, just to delay the inevitable. By reflex, Rhysand hid his increasing nerves under a mask of cool indifference but judging by the knowing smirks his brothers’ and Mor were sporting, he was failing spectacularly at that. Unsurprisingly, it was Cassian who decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Okay, that’s it. Hand Nyx over, Rhys.” Cassian stepped forwards and held out his arms awaiting.

Instinctively, Rhys’ hold on the child only tightened, and a soft snarl emerged from his throat, “back off, Cass.”

“Mother’s tits Rhys! We haven’t got all day.” He exasperated.

“Cassian,” Mor’s sharp interjection was softened by the ghost of a smile.

“Sorry,” Cassian had the decency to look ashamed, before sending the babe a saccharine smile, “I meant Mother’s hips.” He looked to Rhys’ expectantly again.

“You know, the winds today are stronger than I anticipated. Maybe we should do this tomorrow.” Pathetic. It was a pathetic excuse, and he knew it. But every time he thought about the little thing he held in his arms, flying clumsily, and exposed through the sky, he only further cemented his feet into the ground. The babe only grew more restless.

“Scared by a tiny, little breeze, High Lordling? See look, even Nyx is getting tired of your sh-stuff.” He coughed, before adding, softer this time, “it’s time, brother.”

Rhys just spat back, with more venom than he intended, “come any closer, you bastard, and I’ll rip your arms from their sockets.”

Cassian’s powerful wings rustled behind him, and Mor and Azriel tensed, cautious shadows gathering in near their feet. But to Rhys’ surprise, Cassian didn’t take the bait. He continued to stare unflinching at the agitated male, hazel eyes blazing, “Nyx is my sister too Rhys. Do you think I’d ever let anything happen to her?”

Rhys was startled. It was only because he remained dumbfounded by Cassian’s sudden seriousness, that he allowed his little sister to be lifted from his arms.

“Hello, Starlight.” His brother cooed, “are you ready to fly, darling?”

Nyx, the traitorous little thing, only gushed and prattled on delightfully in the way she always did when she was in Cassian’s arms. If it were any other situation, Rhys’ brotherly instincts would go into overdrive and he’d protest at the sight. But, for a moment, he could see it. He could see the way in which Cassian and Azriel and Mor watched over her, the steadiness in their gazes and the sureness of their movements. Yes, here, surrounded by her family, there was nowhere else in the world, that Nyx would be safer. Rhys' aggression instantly dissolved into guilt.

“I’m sorry, Cass.” He was. Truly. Without taking his eyes off the babe, his brother just nodded in understanding. Azriel stepped up to them this time and poked a scarred finger into her pudgy cheek.

“Can you show me how you move your wings, little one?” He asked the babe with a soft smile, flaring out his own wings as a demonstration. Even Rhys couldn’t help stop the smile that was forming on his face. A month ago, it was one of those rare nights that they were all together at the town house in Velaris, when war and politics were the furthest things from their minds. The three brothers began Nyx’s flying lessons by demonstrating the correct wing movement. The babe sat on the carpeted floor; head tipped back to look at the three imposing Illyrians towering over her.

“It’s like this, Starlight.” Rhys had demonstrated first, of course. With his back to her, he flared in and out, his large, membranous wings. His little sister, not intimidated in the least, simple marvelled at her older brother, her little wings motionless at her back.

“No, you prick,” Cassian had interrupted, pushing Rhys aside, “You have to do it like this!”. The second male went through his motions, but Nyx only laughed in glee and babbled incoherently, no doubt her encouragements for more.

“You’re doing the same Gods-damned thing I was doing, you brute!” Rhys had scowled, elbowing his way back into the baby’s line of attention.

“Both of you are idiots. Move.” Azriel had gone into the centre fold then. Cutting off the other two's muffled protests with his trademark cool demeanour. Not ten minutes later, Mor came bursting into the room. And when she took in the scene before her: the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of Bloodshed, and the Sypmaster, three terrible and awesome warriors she fought and killed beside, bickering and ruffling their wings like mad males, she had laughed herself hoarse. And soon, all four of them followed. Completely unaware, but utterly mesmerised by the sight of her family’s joy, baby Nyx’s happiness seemed to bleed into the rest of her body, and she fluttered those beautiful little wings at her back.

She was a quick study, but that was no surprise to anyone. When Rhys’ mother was still in the early weeks of her pregnancy, they were all shocked when their healer, Madja, told them the unborn child had wings. Shocked, because not even Rhysand, born with immense power that cautioned all the other High Lords, was born with wings. They knew then, that Nyx, still inside her mother’s belly, would be flying sooner that any normal Illyrian child. It still didn’t give him much comfort, however, the fact that they had been anticipating this day for an age before she was even born. To distract himself, Rhys, once again cast his gaze to his surroundings.

The day was so unlike the one just over a year ago. Rhysand’s mother was making preparation to go back to Velaris. Where she would spend the remaining month of her pregnancy, when the storm came in, vicious and unrelenting. The winds howled their protests, demanding to keep her in her cabin in the Illyrian mountains for the birth. And the very earth shook, like Ramiel Himself knew. Knew the way the Illyrians; lords, soldiers, and females alike, stopped to stare whenever they were near. Not to sneer at his mother’s untamed wings, but the life inside of her. Like the babe not yet born, was seasoned general, commanding everyone’s attention with her mere presence. Rhysand and his family knew it then, that like he, his little sister possessed power that none of them could possibly fathom. But in the way that he triumphed over night, perhaps she would command the sky itself.

And when labour came that very night, swift and far too many weeks early, they had no choice but to stay. His mother, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Madja and her assistant. The High Lord’s son, had faced countless battles, had once been nailed to the ground by his wings, and forced to watch as his own soldiers were tortured. But never, had he felt such helplessness as he heard his mother’s cries of pain. Never, he had felt such fear as his mother bled and begged him to save his sister’s life no matter what. And when the child’s first wails pierced through the air, his mother still very much alive and crying from joy, all at once, the storm settled. Like Ramiel had let out a breath of relief, for the birth of their Illyrian princess.

So much had changed in the year that his little sister came into this world. In those first few weeks, when Rhys could barely keep himself away from her. When baby Nyx, still unaware of most things around her, kept absentmindedly reaching out a delicate, little hand towards him. For the first time in his centuries-old existence, he felt like he finally had something was truly his. His little sister. This innocent, pure little thing. Of all the horror he had seen and was for responsible for in his years, that he could be given such a precious gift, astounded him. Even his sanctimonious prick of a father, changed considerably. Rhys was never sure about his father’s feelings towards his son, and even though he was more than capable, he was too afraid to use his daemati gifts to look into his mind and find out. Not because Rhys was afraid his father didn’t love him. He was afraid that he did. That in his own callous, twisted way, he loved his son and that was how he showed it. Rhys swore to himself out of fear, that he would never turn out like him. And when his sister was born, he became fearful for a different reason. But it was different with Nyx. His father doted on her, though he never outwardly showed it. Rhys could sense the way his demeanour changed whenever she was around. The way his eyes melted when she would smile up at him with those endless violet eyes. His violet eyes. Rhys knew without a doubt his father loved his daughter, but for the first time, he wasn’t afraid.

Looking at her now, with eyes that resembled their father’s, alight with excitement, and the soft midday breeze ruffling through her wild, curly hair that resembled their mother’s. Rhysand could see the future as clear as the warm winter sunlight. He knew her true power would not lie in battle, but in making real change. He believed that this babe, who would someday grow into a strong, brilliant female, with Illyrian blood flowing through her veins and Illyrian wings to take her to the skies. Someday she could be a symbol for what was possible. Someday, they could ensure other females like her, can hear the songs of the wind. Someday, when he is High Lord of the Night Court, and she, the General Commander of the Illyrian armies. Together they could build a future that was good for all. Someday, Nyx. But today, she will learn how to fly.

~~~

I am so sorry for this. I don't know what kinda fucked up feelings i was in to conjure this but i was in dire need of some pre-acotar IC fics so i decided to make one myself.

Bonus: THINKNING ABOUT CASSIAN CALLING RHYS' BABY SISTER DARLING HAS ME SOBBING!!! HE IS SUCH A GIRLDAD YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome and Heavy Body

Chapter Four: How to Disappear Completely

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count:  2,670 (not very long but I’m getting back into the swing)

Author’s Note: I know it’s been like freaking two months but this felt nice and I remembered how much I actually enjoy this fic. You can find the first chapter here!

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird) bonus: I’m 19 and a humanities major so obviously I don’t know anything about medicine so I’m doing my best out here

I'm not here I'm not here This isn't happening I'm not here I'm not here

She’s not allowed to go with him to treatments-- radiation treatments, he never said anything about chemo. You’d think she was the ex-lawyer but really she’s just mastered the art of annoying him. “That’s a straight flush, eat it!” She lays the cards out for him to see, grinning as his face falls and he realizes that he’s lost to her, again. “We totally should have played strip-poker.”

He rubs a hand over his face, digging his fingers into his eye socket. “That’s the last thing I need,” he mumbles, leaning back against his chair. He’s exhausted and freezing his ass off despite the long-sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing under his flannel and the blanket Emily’s tucked around him. There’s no point in bringing it up, no point in talking about it. No one can do anything about it. He’s just cold and he can handle the clump of hair that fell in the sink this morning and the fact that all foods, even foods that he’s considered safe for decades, betray his body. This being cold all the time thing though? It’s pissing him off and it makes him feel even more helpless because he can’t control his emotions.

Nevermind, most of his control over everything is gone. He’s stuck in this chair until the toxic whatever they have hanging above his head enters his body. The whole bag and a two-hour, maybe longer, wait. For comfort, he’s got an endless supply of blankets, all as thick as paper, and a popsicle. He likes popsicles but he’s certain he’ll throw up anything he eats right now. So he sticks to lightly sipping his water. At least he gets to control the water most of the time. Occasionally they even get to veto his decisions there.

“I’ll give you a break,” she offers. She can see he’s having a hard time. He knows he’s lucky to have her as his shadow but that doesn’t do much for the temper he’s struggling to control. “I’m going to go call JJ,” she knocks her hand against his knee and he hums his understanding. He’s moved his body up, sitting up enough to tilt to the left, his head in his palm, and his fingers moved to block her view of a pained grimace. Trying and failing to keep her distracted with his silence.

Knowing that crouching down beside him would create far more attention to his discomfort that is such grave importance to him to hide, she just lowers her voice and quietly asks, “do you want me to get some more water?” He shakes his head, just rocking his forehead into his palm. His attention lost to a sea of pain. “Okay,” she mumbles, feeling utterly helpless. A feeling she’s becoming quite familiar with.  

The worst part is knowing there’s nothing she can do physically for him but there are some people that never fail to draw a smile to his face. So she texts Spencer and Penelope, hoping Reid will numb Hotch out with never-ending conversation and Garcia will lighten his sludge. She hesitates to ask Jessica to bring Jack over. After the night they watched the Chronicles of Narnia he’s been a little outwardly disruptive. Acting out and it’s to be expected, this isn’t easy for anyone and it’s impossible for a child who has already lost his mother. But it will be good for Hotch and Jack so she risks it and Jessica seems to agree.

“You’re back early.” What she does not account for is Derek Morgan beating them back. They walk in and hear a racket, and though their training should have them reaching for guns not strapped to their hips, they both just glare at the direction in which it’s coming from. Derek stands up, eyeing them both over, and motioning to something out of their sight. “Was just fixing the sink.” He’s covered in dirt and sweat, it’s evident he was fixing something though the state of his shirt looks more like he breaking something.

Emily is opening her mouth to inquire but Hotch beats her to it. His tone and his mood are not in a good place and if she’d known Morgan was here ahead of time she would have warned him. Morgan has no warning when Hotch’s already firmly placed scowl turns even crueler and he grumbles, “the sink wasn’t broken.”

She’s stuck standing between them, Hotch walking away and Morgan watching his back and looking hopelessly at her to explain what just happened. She’s not sure if she’s allowed to follow Hotch or if she’s better here explaining his behavior. It’s just like old times, she thinks bitterly. To Foyet and his pain and she can’t say she’s surprised, he really held out. She can’t blame him for being in a bad mood, he’s in pain. It’s his cancer, he’s allowed to be pissed about it.

“He okay?”

She is surprised to find that Morgan isn’t angry. That he looks nearly sad standing there, torn between going after him and being reassured by her. “He’s…” she won’t tell him about the drive back. Hotch silent but in so much pain he’d been restless, incapable of sitting still in the car. Or this morning how he’d needed her help just putting on a shirt. The hair she’s noticed falling out but he’s not commenting on it so she certainly won’t breathe a word. That they’re up all night, the sound of Hotch’s pacing making her too worried to rest or barreling through the house to find him curled around the toilet looking miserable. That he’s losing weight rapidly and she doesn’t struggle to help him up anymore-- but she tells herself it’s because she’s getting stronger because she has to.

“He’s Hotch,” she reasons, foolishly. “Of course, he’s okay.”

-------------------------------

Garcia would lay her own life down in a heartbeat to protect the team if they’d let her. She owes them all so much for the quality that they have given her life over the past few years. They have built a family around her, from the ground up, and accepted her through all her flaws and misadventures. No one as much as her suit-clad, knight in shining armor boss. Hotch has been there for her since before there was even really a team. When no one else would, he gave her so much more than a chance-- he believed in her. When no one else, when no one had even tried since her parent’s death. Even when time and time again she made mistakes, pushed rules, and on his last nerve. He never tore her down.

He commends her strangeness, even if she suspects he doesn’t fully understand it. Smiles good-naturedly when she brings him holiday-themed ties so they can match and allows her silly days out for conventions beyond his own taste. He’s never grasped a full understanding of her but he’s never given up trying. He commends her abilities to do this job and also reminds her how proud he is of her, to have her on his team, and to call her a friend. So, yeah, if Hotch needs a little pick-me-up, she’s his man.

“Are you two fucking?”

Garcia freezes. The key Hotch gave her half-way in its retreat from the lock and the door only slightly opened. She’s technically coming in unannounced but Hotch had given her this key under the same pretenses as the one that gave her access to his and Haley’s house-- in case she needs him. The situations are flipped now, he needs her, but the sentiment is still the same. She’d prepared for the Hotch’s thousand-word frown upon entrance just not the verbal assault of “are you two fucking”.

She hesitantly makes her way into the room, peeking around the corner of the wall that separates the kitchen from the living room. Emily and Morgan are standing there, both looking equally disgusted and annoyed. She watches Emily fluster, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “What?” she barks out in pure surprise. “He’s-- NO!”

Morgan reciprocates his own franticness, waving at Emily’s clothes, “you’re-- you’re... matching!” He’s grabbing at straws for the most part. His own anxieties and fears coming into play to create this monster of a beast he can’t stop thinking about. To distract himself from the panicked thoughts he has about watching his friend die he’s conjured a reality in which it makes sense that Emily and Hotch would be boning. Really, it’s only bothering him because he has no idea what he would do if the two of them were… doing something. It’s just-- just disgusting. Hotch is Hotch, he doesn’t… do that.

Emily rolls her eyes, “Derek, I see him every day. I live with him.” She makes an exasperated throwing motion with her hands, tossing them upwards. “It’s going to happen occasionally, alright? We own similar articles of clothing.” She motions down to her clothes, “we’re ‘matching’ because we look a lot alike and he knows green is his color just like I know it’s mine!”

Of course, that’s what she says now but this morning when she was working the tiny ass buttons of his shirt together she’d given him endless shit about managing to pick out the one shirt the two of them both own. He couldn’t change-- that day’s appointments needed full access to his chest and the easiest way to do that is to wear easily opened and shut clothing. She could change but simply refused-- it was far more entertaining to tell him they looked like those preschoolers whose parents dressed them to match.

He wasn’t amused.

“Besides,” she adds just to a rise out of him, “he’s not supposed to be doing anything strenuous until the rash on his chest clears back up.” She tucks a strand behind her ear, nonchalant. “Even then I would have to be on top.” She smiles as he sputters, satisfied with her own work.

Morgan frowns, “No!” He momentarily covers his ears, shaking his head. “Why do you even-- How do you know that?”

Emily shrugs, “Oh… well, his doctor thought we were… you know.”

Garcia isn’t sure where her allegiance should be. If Hotch and Emily are… she’d prefer not to know the details. Well, she’s interested because it’s Emily but it’s also Hotch. She makes a face, the thought… it-- Hotch needs to lighten up. He needs someone back in his life that can bring some fun but Emily is, well she’s Emily! It f-

“Is she done tormenting Morgan, yet?”

Garcia reels around, caught off guard by a sudden deep but unimpressed voice behind her. When she turns, she finds Hotch. He’s dressed down, out of the attire Morgan and Emily had been talking about. Now, in a simple Hanes t-shirt and black sweatpants. Comfortable-- she likes the way he looks. It may not be his usual attire but it makes him look more… dad-like. More himself.

Garcia looks back over her shoulder and finds herself grinning. Her boss may seem like a boring, hardass but he can have his fun too. No doubt, he either gave Emily the idea to go torment Morgan (never direct but planted the seedling idea) or, at the very least, gave her permission. “I don’t think so,” she answers honestly. “She’s not going to let it go if she knows it bothers him that much.” Which is completely true.

Hotch smiles, softly. A dimple making a guest appearance as he shakes his head. Only Emily Prentiss. He looks Garcia down, lifting a brow at the sight of all the things in her arms. “Can I help you with that?” he offers, motioning to the filled Tupperware clutched to her chest so that they don’t topple over.

She remembers, suddenly, the armful of goodies she has. “Oh yes, sir!” She lets him take a few off the top, telling him what they are as he acquires them. “Those are macadamia nut cookies! This really nice woman--” she follows him as he takes the containers and directs her to the kitchen. “She moved in across the hall from me. She loves to bake and so she’s been giving me all these little recipes.”

He moves right past Emily and Derek, smiling to himself at the panicked raise in Derek’s tone as they catch sight of one another. He directs his attention back to Garcia, making sure she knows he’s listening. Though he doubts his own abilities to dig into the delicacies Garcia has brought, he knows that Jack and Emily will rip them to shreds. Which is the honorable way Garcia’s cooking should go, straight into very gracious mouths.

“I really hadn’t been able to test them out,” she continues. “So, I thought why not try them all right now and bring them to you!” She smiles cheerfully up at him, their height difference more apparent when he looks down realizes she’s not wearing her signature heels. She’s wearing pink converse, perfectly complimenting her pink sweater and pink glasses and jewelry. He thinks she looks positively amazing but knows any compliments will have him smothered in kisses and, well, he’s already been accused of sleeping with one coworker...

Mind still wandering off on the subject of his height and when the last time he saw Garcia in shoes other than heels, he settles a soft smile on her. She keeps talking, showing him each container's contents. It’s the exhaustion that leads him down the path beaten path of dissociation, his mind simply slipping out from beneath him. Someplace warm and fuzzy where his body doesn’t ache.

“Aaron--” He blinks, startling at the sudden touch to his shoulder. He looks down to find Emily and an anxious-looking Garcia. He’s sure Emily and Derek’s conversation about their relationship is now going to seem more damning as her hand slips into his. She squeezes his fingers, “you okay?” Her eyes flick between his, searching for an answer that’s going to be far more honest than the one he produces on his own.

He clears his throat, forcing himself not to blush. “Yeah,” he croaks. “I don’t… I don’t know what that was.” He bashfully averts his eyes to the kitchen floor, very aware of their attention on him now. Too much attention. It’s impossible to hide the way he shivers, the paling, near purpling of his arms. He knows it’s inevitable that they’ll notice but… he’d like to think himself some mastermind. Impervious to the tests of cancer and his treatments. That they don’t affect him. He can hide the central line under layers of clothes. Wear hats to hide the hair. Fake a smile and force his way through the day.

But he’s failing miserably. They see it. The radiation rash now sitting at the base of his neck, red and angry. Peaking out through his shirts. The bulge of the central line under his normal shirts. The nose bleeds that never stops, he’s scarred Reid and Morgan for life with those. The tinnitus that’s recently come back with a vengeance. He’s affected, good and proper, and he hates it. Hates that he has to be so blatantly mortal in front of everyone. Never gets a say in if today is good or bad. If he’ll be too weak to get out of bed or too sick to eat. He hates it.

Garcia is the first person to properly break the tension. She playfully knocks Hotch in the shoulder, more of a tap than anything. It’s careful and his throat tightens with the realization of how weak he must look to make Garcia afraid she could hurt him with a simple tap.  “It’s all good, sir.” She settles a small smile on him, “but you can make it up to me by eating?”

Eating. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, swallowing thickly around the sick twist of his stomach. “Okay,” he answers softly, forcing a smile to match hers when she beams. Thinking she’s won against his unruly stomach. 

Emily glances at him but ignores it. 

He just wants to be normal again. 

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan, @lazyhater (Just lmk if you don’t want to be tagged anymore)

[happyandticklish]

Silent Laughter

Notes: It has come to my attention that I have written nothing for Shincelty, despite the two of them being one of my favorite parings on that show, and I have decided to right that wrong today. 

Summary: Shinra proposes an experiment and Celty deals with her own inner doubt.

Usually, Celty didn’t mind the fact that she couldn’t speak.

It had its downfalls, of course. Pulling her phone out every time she wanted to communicate even the simplest of concepts wasn’t ideal, and could be highly frustrating at times. However, she had found over the years that there weren’t many moments when she needed to speak. Living with Shinra meant that conversations tended to carry themselves, even if she never spoke a word. His bubbly enthusiasm for everything more than made up for her monotonous silence.

There were moments, though, when she found the block highly aggravating.

That day brought forth one such moment. Celty had been relaxing, her body splayed lazily upon the leather couch the two shared while she waited for her husband to return. Normally, Shinra was the main occupant of their household, as he worked from home. Today though, he had been invited out by Izaya.

Or. Well. Invited probably wasn’t the right word. Izaya had called the other up on the phone and threatened to kill Shizuo should Shinra not meet with him to discuss “important personal matters”. This was code for Izaya being too stubborn to merely ask Shinra to hang out with him. He did this often, threatening homicide (usually towards their beloved Shizuo) if the other did not agree to meet up with him. At first, Shinra had been concerned, but after it had happened a couple of times he quickly saw through Izaya’s lazy façade. He called him out on it occasionally, but each time Izaya would merely shrug, insisting he had no idea what the other was talking about.

Celty herself had never understood their friendship. It wasn’t that she necessarily disliked Izaya; she understood that people were complicated and did complicated things because of it. Still, he seemed like a dangerous friend to keep, and one whom Shinra was often irritated by. Whenever she inquired about it, Shinra would just smile in confusion, replying, “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we be friends?”

Celty allowed her thoughts to drift aimlessly as she waited, allowing the sun filtering through the blinds to warm her. Today was the first day in a while that she hadn’t been busy with work. Izaya, one of her main employers, was pre-occupied for the day as previously stated. Even the various gangs scattered throughout the city, all of whom tended to want her for some impossible task or another, had lightened up in their normally relentless persistence. She could hardly remember the last time she had been free to simply lounge around. She decided to take advantage of the moment, allowing herself to drift off into the vague semblance of sleep she exhibited.

She was roused almost minutes later by the sounds of a door kicked open and the exuberant tones of Shinra’s voice as he entered. “Celty! I have returned! Sorry I’m late; Izaya ended up running into Shizuo at Simon’s and I had to prevent the two from destroying the city in one go. Are you home?”

He struggled out of his shoes, hopping back several steps in his attempts. He popped his head into the living room, smiling once he noticed her. “Hey.”

Celty sat up, waving slowly as she brushed off the remaining lull of sleep. Shinra slowly slipped off his coat, taking a seat besides her on the couch. She started to bring her phone out from her pocket, intent on typing some semblance of a “how was your day?”, but before she could do so she found herself enveloped in the arms of the scientist. She froze, the suddenness of the action throwing her off guard for a moment. He buried his face into her shoulder, softly mumbling, “I missed you.”

Slowly, Celty allowed her muscles to relax, melting into the embrace. Shinra tended to be a more physical person than most, eagerly leaning against shoulders and knocking knees with others while watching movies; whenever they went out for any kind of date he always made sure to interlace his fingers with hers as they walked through the crowded streets. Sometimes, if the stress of work had caught up to him, he would curl up on her lap and she would run her fingers through his hair, allowing the other to relax. For him, touch meant affection, love, and caring. She had learned as much over the years.

She wrapped her arms around him in unison, wishing she had a mouth to kiss him, to reassure him how much she loved him too.

“How about we stay here?” he implored into her shoulder. “Forever. Just you and me and Shooter. We’ll both quit our jobs and I’ll cook you omelets and you can watch those dumb tv shows you’re so fond of, and neither of us puts our lives on the line for the sake of Ikebukuro.”

She curled her fingers in his hair, implying in that gesture everything she couldn’t say. He sighed, his body drooping against her. “I know. That doesn’t mean a man can’t hope.”

Celty retrieved her phone where she had dropped it on the cushion. She typed out a quick sentence, tapping Shinra’s shoulders insistently. He glanced up, eyes scanning the screen. We can grab something to eat, if you’d like? There’s a new sandwich place that opened up downtown.

“No,” he said, shaking his head resolutely. “If I cannot stop time, then at the very least I can make this moment last as long as possible. I’m sorry Celty, but I’m afraid I cannot move from this position. If I were to let go of you, there could be earth-shattering consequences.”

Earth-shattering? she replied skeptically.

“Utterly disastrous,” he confirmed in deadpan.

She tilted her neck down at him disapprovingly. You’ll have to let go eventually, you know.

“You can’t make me.”

Those words, spoken impetuously from the mouth of the foolish scientist, forewarned his doom. In the two’s time together, Celty had discovered many things about Shinra. She knew that he was fond of games and had a strange taste in cooking. She knew that he still listened to pop music, completely unashamedly, she might add. She had also learned that he was, quite possibly, one of the most ticklish people she had ever met before.

If she had possessed a mouth, she might’ve smirked.

Slowly, she returned her hands to his back, running her nails gently up and down the other’s spine. Shinra closed his eyes with a relaxed sigh, utterly unaware of the trick she would soon play on him. As time went on, her touch traveled casually away from his back, almost, almost, brushing against his sides. He tensed against her, arching a little against her touch.

“Celty.”

One finger carefully drew a path up his left side.

“C-Celty,” he tried again, his smile transforming into a wobbly grin as he tightened his grip around her. “No.”

Two fingers, scratching just under his ribs.

“This is entirely unfair,” he informed her, squirming away from her touch. “C-Completely and u-utterly uncalled fohor.”

All at once ten fingers on either side, scribbling with devastating softness. He yelped, bursting into a round of panicked giggles and squeezing her tight as he fought to keep himself from shoving her away. “Cehehelty, thihis ihihis mehehehean!”

His thin button-up did little to protect him, and she managed to get at his slender sides with ease. Each curl and twitch of her fingers sent him into helpless spasms, his arms trembling in their hold. Only when she pinched that one spot on his hips did he finally let go, arms shooting down protectively.

“Ohohokay, okay!” Shinra yelped, scrambling back on the couch. He took a moment to regain his bearings, pointing a finger at her accusingly. “You can’t use that against me every time you want something, you know.”

But you love it?

“That is…” he trailed off, a flush rising on his cheeks. “Irrelevant information. Besides, it’s not fair. How come you’re the only one who ever gets to tickle me?”

The black smoke surrounding her swirled inquiringly. What do you mean?

“Well, I mean, you’re—” he stopped himself, giving her a stern look. “You’re… not ticklish, right?”

Why wouldn’t I be ticklish?

“Well you’ve never reacted when I tried before,” he pointed out.

Shinra, she typed slowly, as though she were speaking to a child. I don’t have a head—I wouldn’t be able to laugh.

This gave the other pause. It had never occurred to him that her lack of reaction could have been because she couldn’t react, as opposed to her being unaffected. Now that the idea had entered his head however, it wouldn’t leave him alone. Part of it stemmed from a purely scientific viewpoint (could Dullahans be ticklish?), though he couldn’t deny that a greater portion of him was grateful for the chance at revenge.

He leaned across the couch eagerly, his attention entirely captivated by this new concept. Celty leaned back warily, but not away. “We do know that you feel pain, admittedly to a more muted level than most. That would imply that you can feel sensation. I guess I never connected the dots in my head before.” He put his hand to his chin, considering. Finally, he looked back up at her, a slightly hesitant look to his eyes. “Would you… would you be okay if I tested it?”

Tested it? Celty repeated slowly. As in…

“Tickle you,” Shinra filled in. “Only if you want to, of course. I wouldn’t consider doing it without your permission. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be dying of curiosity. But I understand if you don’t want to.”

Celty tried to imagine it, what it would be like to experience what had brought Shinra to the ground many times in the past. She knew she had been tickled before, though usually never purposefully. Merely an accidental glance against the side, a poke to get her attention. Once Shinra had grabbed her hips and squeezed suddenly, but his attempt had ultimately failed as Celty merely turned questioningly towards him.

She found it difficult to believe that something as simple as a light touch could bring her to hysterics, though she’d seen it work on Shinra countless times.

Alright, she agreed at last, finding that she herself was curious as to the outcome. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Shinra’s eyes widened, clearly having expected more of a fight from her. Still, he wasn’t about to let a chance like this pass him up. Cautiously, he uncurled her leg, placing it on his lap gently. He raised his hand, pausing inches away from her foot and quickly adding, “Oh, and make sure to tell me exactly how this feels! This is research, after all.”

Celty tensed, preparing herself for an onslaught of… well, what she wasn’t sure. But when Shinra lightly dragged his finger up her sole, she didn’t experience any kind of profound reaction. It was a prickling sensation, one that alerted her nerves to the action, but nothing altogether noteworthy. Shinra continued to drag the same finger up and down her arches, seemingly wanting to take it slow so she had time to process.

“How does it feel?” he asked curiously, glancing up from his task but not stopping as he did so.

Celty raised her phone, ready to type out a response, when suddenly Shinra’s finger drifted slightly, going in vague zig-zags down her foot. She jerked forward with a start, her toes curling protectively.

“Celty?” Shinra asked hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

Yes, she typed out, the words halted as she tried to come to terms with her own feelings. It just… tickled.

“It did?” Shinra confirmed excitedly. “That’s incredible! What did it feel like?”

You know what tickling feels like, she pointed out.

“Well, yes,” he said, nodding. “But for all we know, it’s an entirely different sensation for you.”

Celty’s fingers paused over her phone as she tried to decide a way to describe the earlier feeling. Electric. But also soft, at the same time. Sort of like when a bug crawls on your skin, but more intense.

“Interesting,” Shinra murmured. “I would say that’s pretty accurate to what it feels like. Still, we’ll probably have to do more testing to further confirm it. Would you be okay if I kept going?”

Celty thought about saying no, the vague devious excitement in his eyes making her wary, but she found that she was just as curious to experience the startling sensation again. It was strange to think that in all the time she had been among humans, she had never participated in the silly ritual. She nodded, and eagerly Shinra returned to his task, scratching lightly at her soles once more.

Again, strange sparks of feeling shot up her leg, and she jerked against his hold unconsciously. Shinra appeared more bold now, spidering his fingers softly over her sole with reckless abandon. She clutched her phone tightly, drawing her other knee up to her chest. It was somehow a comfort to protect the one foot that she could, the action giving her a strange sense of control over the situation. When he reached the ball of her feet, she spasmed, hilarity rising in her throat.

It was odd. Throughout all her life, Celty had never known the ability to laugh like others could, and never before had she felt an especial need for it. Now though, with Shinra’s fingers wrecking hell upon her, she found the need to laugh growing stronger, despite the fact that there was no outlet for it. She shook noiselessly, her shoulders drawing in.

“Wow Celty,” Shinra said, smiling affectionately over at her. “I never realized you were this ticklish. If I had known, I would’ve struck my revenge years ago.”

Celty wrapped her arms around herself, knowing that had she the ability to, she would be blushing right then.

She was able to survive a couple more minutes, squirming futilely on the couch, though that was more an unconscious protest than a genuine attempt to escape. He had discovered a spot on her toes that made her jump, her hands fisting into the fabric of the couch as she fought to keep herself from shoving him off.

It was only after five minutes had elapsed, that she began to realize the silence filling the room, stretching like a chasm between them. Guilt prickled slightly at her chest. Normally when the two of them were together, she had her phone on her and could therefore uphold easy conversation. Now though, with the distractingly pleasant and unbearable sensations squirreling through her, she was finding it impossible to type anything.

In an instant, black mist had wrapped itself tightly around Shinra’s wrists, pulling his hand away. His eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture, and he turned to see Celty quickly typing out a response. “C-Celty—”

Wait.

He frowned, tilting his head in concern. “Is… is everything alright? I didn’t go overboard did I? Whatever I did, I’m sorry—”

No, she interrupted, waving her hand fiercely in denial of his statement. You didn’t do anything. It’s only…

She hesitated on her next sentence, trying to think of a way to phrase it. Shinra waited calmly for her response, his eyebrows drawn down with vague worry.

I was just thinking that this can’t possibly be fun for you, she said at last. Shinra opened his mouth to deny the statement, but she quickly began typing again before he could say anything. I can’t laugh like other humans, or smile, even though everything in me wants to. Doesn’t that take away from it? For you I mean?

Shinra blinked, the words clearly the last thing he had expected. “Celty… how could you possibly think that?”

Celty didn’t respond, though her silence said everything he needed to hear.

He held up his hands imploringly, and after a moment Celty dissipated the mist with a flick of her hand. Once he was free again, he reached out, grasping her hand in his.

“For all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never had to identify you with a voice. And so I learned to recognize you by the other things that made you you, the soft step of your footsteps, the impatient cross of your arms when you’re exasperated with me. I don’t need to hear your voice to know you’re there. So in that case, how could I possibly long for a sound I’ve never even heard? I don’t need to hear your laugh to sense its presence. I can see it in the way you scrunch your shoulders, the tension in your muscles, the way your body shakes besides me. It may not be audible, but to me, it’s the most beautiful sound in the world—the laughter of silence. It’s so perfectly you, how could I possibly hate it?”

His words were spoken innocently, like when a child brings forth a truth they know to be real beyond a shadow of a doubt because they haven’t learned to suspect the world yet. Celty’s heart lifted in her chest, a burst of euphoria lighting and melting her limbs. She clutched his hand back, before reaching for her phone once more and quickly typing a response.

Thank you.

He grinned, flushing a little, as though her ineloquent reply had meant just as much to him as his words had to her. “There’s no need for that. I was simply speaking the truth. Although…”

She startled as he reached forward suddenly, enclosing the two of them in a hug. The true intention of his gesture became clear in a moment as his hands latched onto her sides, his fingers curling in just slightly. “If you really want to thank me, then I wouldn’t mind a continuation of our earlier experimentation?”

Celty paused, and then, with a wild carelessness, she hugged him back, tracing out a simple word onto his back.

Yes.

[frosteee]

The Existential Terror of Asura [Soul Eater]

It's been a long time since I've thought about Soul Eater, but I've been thinking about it a lot recently and I wanted to talk about it. I've been thinking maybe a bit too much, which is relevant.

Asura resonated (sorry) with me years ago when I first got into the series, and he does even more now, for what he says about fear and its effects, and how the wrong response to individuals suffering from that fear can cause a spiral into even worse depths.

[LONG ASS POST UNDER CUT]

Lord Death created the first Kishin, Asura. Literally and figuratively. There's no two ways about it. Excalibur tells him as much in his final moments, telling him how wrong it was to create a being out of his own fears. Lord Death acknowledges that Asura, his own son, was created as an experiment, a means to the end of becoming a perfect god of Absolute Order. The quote from Voltaire's short story 'Memnon' comes to mind here: 'One day, Memnon conceived the insane idea of becoming perfectly wise.'

This foolish, if well-intentioned, effort was successful in Lord Death's case, but the consequences for those around him were horrendous. Early in the manga, Lord Death is unable to admit it out loud. Even the way he recounts Asura's fall into madness and betrayal, and how he dealt with that consequence, speaks to Lord Death's detachment, his lack of compassion and understanding at that time. He removes his relation to Asura entirely, removing the truth of the matter and placing himself on the moral high ground in the process.

When he is recounting Asura's downfall, Lord Death remarks that he did not know what lay in Asura's heart, pondering if it was fear. He does not seem to realise or take responsibility for the fact that Asura is literally his anxiety incarnate. He understood on some level that no being, god or otherwise, could stand such a condition, and was careful not to make the same mistake with Kid, but Lord Death (at that point) was unable to admit or think of Asura as anything other than a traitor and a threat.

Lord Death taught Kid that the real purpose of a Reaper was balance - conveniently forgetting to mention how he came by that particular titbit of wisdom - his eldest son, the most unbalanced creature to ever breathe.

I remember being in the car on my way to school with my dad. At the time I was suffering from an intense anxious phase where I was deathly afraid of bad weather - even something as harmless as dark clouds. I would cry when I opened my curtains and looked out. I didn't want to leave the house. I remember my dad saying to me: "You keep this up, and you'll be a nervous wreck."

That scared me, but I didn't know what to do to stop being scared. My fixation with the weather passed, somehow, later, but when I was in the grip of it I was powerless to do anything because I didn't understand, and neither did my parents. I was already a nervous wreck, and the prospect of a future where this continued, or became worse, only terrified me more.

Luckily, while my dad was never the best at handling my fears (more from his own 'pick yourself up' mindset and fear for me than disinterest or lack of love), my mum was always there to get me the help I needed and talk to me about my feelings. I still struggle today, but I have a good support system and am better equipped to handle and understand my feelings.

Asura had nothing and nobody like that. His father, Lord Death, created a fully mature being with full concept of his own makeup - the fears that Lord Death had discarded, the fears that made Lord Death flawed, imperfect, and wrong. Lord Death made a son of one of the the most corrosive and self-sabotaging emotions and was surprised when that didn't turn out well!

Lord Death saw a man, his son, so utterly terrified by the world, people, and himself, that he couldn't bear to go out without the protection of layers upon layers of clothing, a being so crippled by fear that he kept everything and everybody at arm's length, even his own partner Vajra, and spent his days in a state of constant introspection, barely paying attention to the outside world and mumbling incoherently.

Lord Death looked at that man, that firstborn child of his, and allowed that to continue. There's no indication he tried to ease Asura's anxieties, or help him in any way. Asura was a powerful member of his elite order, and that seemed to be all that mattered until it was too late. What kind of parent sees their child in such a state and does nothing?

Who looks at this and does nothing?

Lord Death created a nervous wreck of a man, and was both surprised and furious when that nervous wreck finally broke under the strain. Lord Death and others talk about Asura 'forgetting his discipline/teachings' and disobeying, like he was supposed to magically be able to handle being mortally afraid!

Being so helpless against the condition of his being, Asura sought the only thing available to him - the only thing he was valued for: power, and disobeyed his father.

Lord Death's response? To rip all of Asura's skin off his body and seal him inside it for the next eight hundred years, and doing everything possible to keep Asura there.

We all know that sealing something away and putting a rug over it never works, especially in fiction, so it was only a matter of time before Asura was freed, but in an emotional and moral point of view it was so, so wrong.

Asura had been gripped in fear for all his life, unable to healthily cope with it, and spent so much time in his own head his thoughts were coming out of his mouth as frantic whispers. The worst thing Lord Death could have possibly thought of as a punishment was to isolate Asura entirely.

I don't remember if this appeared in the manga, but in the anime (Lord Death and Asura's second/final confrontation), Asura tells Death of the things he thought about while in that sack of skin, because the only freedom he had left was to think. The worst possible thing for anyone, especially someone suffering from anxiety, is to do nothing but think. All this exercise does, and did with Asura, is exacerbate and breed more anxieties, and further embed them into the mind.

Left with nobody but himself to find a way out of the existential terror of his own thoughts, Asura came to realise that he had been an experiment, a tool, not a son. He refers to our heroes at puppets of Lord Death, as he once was, and regards Lord Death as nothing but a tyrant. Up until the revelation that he and Kid are brothers, Kid himself had never questioned Lord Death. Asura had eight hundred years to do that.

Eight hundred years in a stew of your own existential dread.

In the anime series, Asura concluded that it was the ability to imagine the future that was the source of fear. He who had spent so long terrified of the what if's and maybes, tortured by uncertainty, he sought to create a world where there was nothing but the immediate, static present, where nothing like that could exist.

Lord Death's response? "Sorry, I'll kill you for real this time" or "I've had enough of your rants!"

In either anime or manga, he never addresses or responds to Asura's thoughts or feelings. Even when Lord Death realised the error of making his eldest son the way he was, he never communicated this to Asura personally. To Asura he was flippant, dismissive and angry, acting as if Asura was solely responsible for the evil he did when Lord Death knew it wasn't. He'd sooner punish and hurt Asura than actually help him, a consequence of becoming 'Order' with no room for those who challenge or question it. It's like taking a young offender into a prison full of nasty criminals and violence and being shocked when they come out worse than when they went in.

His suffering son is a blemish, a shame, a threat. At one point, Lord Death even threatens to put Asura through the same existential hell again. Can people really blame Asura for hating him and turning on everything Lord Death cares about (more than he ever did his own son)?

In making his anxiety a person, Lord Death was obviously going to detach himself from Asura as an individual. Asura is everything he wanted to dispose of, only powerful and capable of taking out his enemies en masse. He was clearly only kept around and tolerated for that purpose, but never looked upon or valued as a thinking being capable of feeling and reacting to the condition of his birth.

Asura is Lord Death's biggest, most horrendous and reprehensible act. It's not a mistake, either. Lord Death intentionally created Asura to be the way he was, with no mind for the consequences until it blew up in his face. And when it did, not only was Lord death not humbled or sorry, but he pinned all the blame on Asura in a fit of rage and punished him - and punished him in the worst way both for Asura himself and for the world in general.

Lord Death treated Asura and his mental breakdown like a rabid dog to be locked away and forgotten about. That is not something a good parent does. A good parent acknowledges their hand in their children's problems, they talk to them, they help them out.

Lord Death may have been a good father to Kid, but he was the absolute worst Asura could have had. And Kid, aside from that flicker of doubt, doesn't acknowledge it, continuing to praise Lord Death and be the true Death God Lord Death had wanted.

Asura lashes out and sees everything in the world as his enemy, a thing to fear, a thing to hate, and he could not conceive of anything except terror. He was completely unable to understand a state of peace, harmony, bravery, in the face of all the fear life throws at you. He was a nervous wreck until he died, and that scares me. I don't want to become like that, but it's difficult to imagine some days when you're gripped by this unnatural fear of something, even if you know what it is, that you can get better and be truly content.

Asura was never happy and always afraid. He was fucked over by his parent like Chrona was, but nobody (including the narrative) gave a shit. Yes, his actions were wrong, he had to be stopped, he couldn't be allowed lash out against the world and others like he was, but I still see Asura was a tragic figure who was fucked over by the person he needed most.

I'm sorry this is so long, I have a lot of feelings right now.

[fae-fucker]

Zenith: Chapter 76-79

Chapter 76

Andi has a nice little poetic nightmare. It’s irrelevant. The next morning has the girls preparing for the ball, complete with dresses and makeup.

Some things to note include Lira saying that in Adhiran religion (which is global, I guess), one has to mourn for three days before “letting” the souls of the dead pass on into ... everything.

Andi tries to say that it’ll take time to heal from it all, but Lira is having none of it.

“It will take time to move past what happened on Adhira,” Andi started, but Lira held up a hand.

“My three days of mourning have passed. Lon’s and my aunt’s, too. Now we, and the others who lost loved ones during the attack, must give the lost spirits to the stars, to the trees, to the wind.”

Which basically means that she’s done feeling bad about the unexpected and brutal attack on her home planet, so that’s convenient. Well, if one of our main characters doesn’t care about her people getting senselessly murdered, then why should we?

She also lets us know that her aunt has fixed up the Marauder and brought it here, because of course. Lira wants to arrange for Lon to be transferred to the Marauder, and though she has a logical reason for it (taking him home personally), it’s only a setup so we know why he’s on there at the end of the book when Andi’s bleeding out and needs a universal donor.

Spoilers, I guess.

Andi’s mother, Glorya, intercepts Andi as she tries to leave her crew to their makeover montages, just so we can move into a scene where her mom is brushing her hair and babbling on about gossip and vapid high society stuff.

But Andi, of course, gets lost in a flashback that’s so amateurishly written it’s honestly embarrassing and only highlights Shinsay’s helpless reliance on flashbacks as a storytelling device.

Observe:

Her words faded away as memories took their place. Andi lost herself to them.

The whole flashback is written in italics for some inexplicable reason, even though it would’ve been fine as just regular text since we’re clearly told what’s happening now and what’s a memory.

Also, there’s one bit where the memory “fast-forwards” to a different one. Shinsay, this isn’t a fucking movie. This isn’t a screenplay. What the fuck are you DOING.

The flashback and the mother’s inane babbling are all there to illustrate how vapid and brainless Glorya is and how she only ever cared about her status and not about her kid. Glorya pretends that everything is back to the way it was but Andi curses her out for abandoning her when she needed them most and how “the way it was” was actually always shit.

I mean it’s fine. It’s all right. I see what they’re going for, it’s melodramatic as all fuck but it works for what they’re trying to do? I can see this as being a realistic way for an emotionally neglectful family to look like. I wish it was more nuanced and wasn’t just shoe-horned in here (Glorya doesn’t show up before or after this bit, this is the only time she’s ever present or even mentioned in this book in any meaningful capacity) for the sake of making Andi’s friends look better and for her to not have anything that anchors her to Arcardius, but like, I won’t say this isn’t realistic.

And then Shinsay can’t stop themselves and it’s back to silly time:

“Really, Androma...” 

[...]

“That is not my name,” Andi whispered. She allowed the darkness to come up into her voice, the mask of shadow and steel to sweep across her face. “My name is the Bloody Baroness. And if you or Commander Racella ever so much as utter a single word toward me or my crew again, I will personally strip the skin from your body and wave it like a flag from my starship.”

Glorya let out a soft squeak. Andi snarled with all of her teeth.

Guys I can’t breathe this is too fucking funny. And not in a good “woo vindication!” sort of way, but in a “they really put this right after an emotional confrontation about parental emotional neglect/abuse huh?” way. They really thought this was ... badass? Revenge? Andi, sweetie, you’re, like, traumatized? Presumably? I can’t really tell. But maybe get some therapy?

Do Shinsay think this is somehow a win and that Andi’s threat means she’s fully released from the hurt and pain her parents have caused her through their neglect? It’s honestly written as if Andi just confronted her mother and her own hopes of coming back to her family in this one short scene, and then upon realizing her parents never loved her, she scares her mom a little and then is all smug and satisfied at the end.

That ain’t how it works, darlings.

Then the annoying Marketable Space Pet runs in and starts biting Glorya’s toes and she runs away shrieking like a defeated Disney villain.

Way to undercut your own drama, Shinsay.

The chapter ends with Andi thinking about how her crew is her True Family for the bajillionth time. Because we’re all idiots and Shinsay wants us to remember that.

Chapter 77

It’s the evening of the ball and Andi thinks about how she missed Bavista, which is apparently your generic coming-of-age ball held at Arcardius for every 16-year-old. I’m guessing it’s a yearly thing? The book never clarifies. Not sure why the fuck it’s here tbh.

Actually, it’s a pretty good demonstration of how the worldbuilding in this book is presented so here, have at thee:

She could still remember seeing the otherworldly dresses and suits float by her on the feeds as she watched the girls and boys glide into the A’Vianna House in the Glass Sector. They seemed light as air, full of pride, bursting at the seams with excitement. Once inside, they would be greeted by members of the Priest Guild, who would award each young person three items.

The first was a vial of water from the Northern Ocean, symbolizing strength. For growth, they accepted a single leaf from the oldest tree on Arcardius, known as The Mother, which was said to have been planted when the Ancients first arrived. Lastly, they were given a single floating pebble, no larger than a child’s fingernail, chiseled from the very gravarock where the Cortas estate was. It represented the wisdom of rising above.

Is this relevant to anything? Does this help you understand this world or its inhabitants? Does it tell you anything of the culture of Arcardius or its youth and what’s expected of them? No? It’s just a really generic list of things thrown together using Mystical Proper Nouns as glue? Weeell heeell.

Also what does “it represented the wisdom of rising above” mean? This is utterly generic and means fuck-all, that’s what.

Anyway, Andi’s admiring herself in the mirror. Her dress is very sexy, trust me, I can’t be bothered to include it so just imagine your favorite My Immortal outfit description. It does include sword holsters at the back, which are Andi’s favorite part, because she’s a strong independent woman who don’t need no man. She never actually uses them or brings the swords to the ball so ... Idk what the point of this was.

We also get some shit about how Andi actually LOVES dresses and being pretty but she never admitted it to anyone. But don’t you worry, this badass space criminal LOVES all things girly, because that’s feminism! Can someone check in on Shinsay? I’m not sure they’re getting enough air with their heads so far up Sarah J Maas’ asshole.

Admitting to herself that she looked pretty was something Andi kept private. She didn’t want to give her crew the satisfaction of knowing her true thoughts about fashion. How even though she was a fierce, hardened criminal, she could still appreciate the joy of a beautiful, impractical ball gown.

Huh. And here I thought they were your family. That’s weird that you’d keep this information from them, especially considering all of them seemed pretty excited to be prettied up in the last chapter. I guess they’d really just haaate the idea of sharing this joy with their captain, huh? Why aren’t you admitting this to them, Andi?

You’re saying shit about how “even though” you’re a hardened criminal, you can “still” appreciate beautiful gowns, like those two are somehow contradictory. Are you, mayhaps, ashamed of having this traditionally girly interest? Hmm! Interesting. Why could that be, I wonder? Why would having traditionally feminine interests or even caring about one’s appearance be seen as something inherently shameful or embarrassing, as inherently contradictory to being fierce and “hardened?”

This is all just so *clenches fist* feminist.

Forreal though, somehow Shinsay managed to take their entire made up GALAXY and make it subtly and not-so-subtly sexist. Good job, morons. Really girlbossed that one, huh?

The only bit I like about this whole mess is this:

The dressmaker had also accented her gown with a sparkling necklace full of jewels that Andi didn’t plan on giving back.

This is the one and only space pirate-y thing Andi does -- sorry, considers doing -- in the whole book and honestly could’ve been used to build her character more, but it’s just a one-off joke here. Wasted.

Valen comes to fetch her and we get some subtle foreshadowing.

“Valen the Resurrected.”

He stopped to look at her, brows raised. “What?”

She shrugged. “It’s what the press is calling you in all the feeds.” Valen let out a deep chuckle.

[...]

“Something tells me things are about to change for the better,” he said. “I’m ready to see it all happen.”

Andi wondered what he would do now that he was home with a whole planet at his disposal.

He deserved to have some fun.

Is it bad that I’m rooting for Valen to destroy everything? And this isn’t my villain-fucker coming out, I just want this poor bastard to absolutely annihilate Andi and her gang of acolytes.

Chapter 78

Andi and Valen arrive at the ball. It’s all very pretty and space-y and aesthetic. There’s a bunch of aliens everywhere. Andi sees a woman with funky eyes and assumes it’s a body mod, because I guess she knows the genetic characteristics of every species by heart and can tell when something is real or not.

An old classmate of theirs comes up to talk to Valen and congratulate him on being alive, then Andi reminds him of who she is just to be a smug asshole and the guy fucks off in a panic. She’s just so cool and badass, you guys.

Then it’s time for Valen and Andi to dance, and of course General Cortas looks like he’s about to lose his marbles because these darn kids! >:(

The chapter ends on Andi noticing Dex pouting in the distance.

“Relax,” Andi whispered. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

She flashed him a wicked grin as the music began.

And as Valen spun her into the first move of the dance, Andi saw Dex standing on the fringes of the crowd, an expression of longing clear on his face.

Chapter 79

This chapter is exactly 298 words of Dex moping around about how he’s actually not over Andi at all when he thought he’d done such a good job of repressing his feelings, and how he should be the one dancing with Andi instead of Valen. If you’re surprised, you’re clinically dead.

[sohin-ace]

Bucciarati - Drunk

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

Gender Neutral reader peeps

-----

You barged into the hideout, slamming the door behind you as you could barely stand on your two feet.

You leaned over the wall, one hand searching anything to grab on and the other craddling your face as a sharp migraine hit you.

"U-uughh... Hmngh..." You groaned and panted, which grabbed the attention of the two males who were present and talking before you came in.

"Y/N, are you okay?!" Mista gasped as he noticed you stumbling clumsily into the living room. You didn't look good at all.

"What on Earth happened to you?" Bucciarati came in worriedly, opening his arms wide to catch you as you struggled to walk to him.

You eventually toppled over into his arms and gripped his shirt for support as you tried to stand up properly.

"B-bruno..." You mumbled and he stared at you in shock as the strong stench of alcohol hit his nose.

"Y/N, are you drunk?"

"A wittl-little bit..." You slurred, burying your face in his chest as your legs wanted to give up right under you.

"Why? I sent you undercover, why did you drink? Did you even get the information I asked?"

He had his hands secured on your arms, keeping you upstanding as he got a bit frustrated by the current state you were in. You were usually so efficient on missions and so serious about work, you better had a good excuse for this.

"Iss... The shtand uge-user...."

You patted and fondled messily with your pants pockets until you finally took out a folded piece of paper. You lifted your hand up, almost shoving the paper in your superior's face to offer it to him.

He squinted his eyes and took the paper, carefully reading the content. His expression relaxed as he sighed in relief upon seeing what you had written. All the confidential informations he needed was scribbled down by you prior to losing your mind. Mission was completed. Thank God.

At that very moment, you lost balance and collapsed on him, your legs giving up under you as you slid down his stiff body slowly.

"Yo Y/N's waaaasteed..." Mista gasped before he snorted, throwing his soda can in the trash without a care in the world. "I'm going to sleep, have fun, capo."

The gunman, although yearning to see you all drunken and weird and maybe get some good juicy embarassing stories to bring up and mess you with later, still fled the scene with a snicker, leaving the elder have that pleasure for himself.

Bucciarati on the other hand, felt utterly betrayed as he was left to deal with you all alone. Oh Mista would pay for this. But that's a story for another time. Right now, Bucciarati had other things to attend to.

You couldn't even keep your head up as you blindly gripped at Bucciarati's legs and hips, trying to climb him back up like a tree.

He tensed up and flinched when you leaned your face against his crotch for desperate support, trying to get on your now wobbly knees.

Quickly, and in a moment of brilliant improvisation, he opened a portal with Sticky Fingers right underneath you, which lead right through another one above him, making you fall down directly into his arms. A smooth move, truly. Expected from the one and only Bruno Bucciarati.

He couldn't help but sigh. Seems like he'd have to take care of you for the night, clearly you were in no state to even do the very basics of self-care. Not that he wasn't used to being caretaker anyways.

Bucciarati took a moment to look at you as he held you, his hands secured protectively around you.

Your face was unnaturally flushed red and your eyes were half-lidded, threatening to flutter close on your behalf. Your mouth was slightly agape as you breathed steadily through quiet snores, almost like you were already sleeping.

He couldn't deny that it was extremely cute in his eyes, this uncharacteristic sight of you. He smiled down with a quiet chuckle.

"You'll have to tell me what happened in the morning..." He muttered softly to you, craddling your body preciously against him.

"I like your face~" You brought your fingertips to his face and carefully touched him, flinching slightly at the airy contact, like a curious cat discovering a human for the very first time.

He huffed and you leaned your head up to rest your chin on his shoulder, throwing one arm lazily around his neck and the other on his cheek.

"Oh yeah you're almost as cute as Bruno Bu-hic!" You hiccuped and he bit back a laugh. "Bucci... Buccillati... Buttiarrati... Buchittity..." You mumbled messily against his shoulder, struggling to pronounce his name as he walked you both towards the stairs.

Oh he would definitely make fun of you for that as soon as you're sober. You better not try to mess with him in the future, he just has quite enough material to blackmail you now.

As his mindset was still waving on the thoughts of all the ways he could tease you, if you asked for it, he was certainly not, and could never be ready for your upcoming drunken shenanigans.

"Aahh~ I want to have rough sex with Bruno..." You moaned quietly and he stopped dead in his tracks, tensing up, a light gasp escaping his lips.

His heart jumped in his chest at your words and he gulped slightly, trying to look down at your hidden face.

Were you serious? No, surely it was the alcohol, toxin or whatever Stand user you went against had done to you... right?

"Ah! Don't tell Capo I said that!" You perked up very suddenly, realizing you just blurted your deepest secret out to what you currently thought was a perfect stranger.

But you relaxed back against him as fast as your panick fit came. He squeezed gently on your thighs and torso, right where he was holding you as if to give you validation, and regained his composure.

"I won't..." Bucciarrati reassured you softly as he arrived to your assigned room in the hideout.

He pushed open the, thankfully unlocked, door and gently placed you on the bed as you whined like a small child. He cared to take the time to remove your shoes, jacket, belt and any constraining piece of clothing and accessories off of you.

"Nooo don't do this! Where's Capoo I want capooo!" You complained and squirmed, your voice cracking slightly.

"I'm right here Y/N, it's me. Calm down." He sat down at the edge of the bed, sensing your sudden distress.

"Where is capo? Where is Bruno when I need him..." His expression fell when he noticed tears streaming down your face. "I don't want to die like you fratellino..."

His heart shattered. He couldn't help his widening eyes boring through yours. Were you seeing your brother through him right now? Did you really have to hallucinate in such an insufferable way?

He knew of your past and how your little brother had gruesomely died in front of your very eyes, you helpless to his cries for help and mercy. Bucciarati knew it was hard to live on with this memory, but he didn't know that it still haunted you so strongly to this day. And he sure would have loved to prevent said memory to resurface.

"Don't be scared, Y/N. I won't let you die..."

"Capo..." You whimpered quietly as you finally recognized his kind voice and he shushed you, brushing the back of his hand on your wet cheek.

"Go to sleep, I'm right next to you." And just like that, with the small confirmation that you were safe with him, you calmed down and closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep.

He sighed heavily, not moving for a moment as he watched your peaceful expression.

You always were so strong and unfaltered, as if nothing could ever break you. You were such a piece of sunshine in Passione in his eyes, making sure everybody was always fine, that he was fine. So seeing you so weak and vulnerable in front of him really tore his heart.

He got up from his seat and went to grab a clean towel and some warm water. He cleaned you off of the blood, sweat, tears and alcohol, careful to not wake you up.

When he finished, he gently tucked you in the covers, brushing some hairs out of your face, taking the liberty to touch you. Surely you wouldn't have minded the gesture, he thought.

The next morning came and you walked groggily in to the living room, the cold shower you just took having no effect on waking you up.

"Hi Y/N!" Narancia muffled at your sight, a croissant halfway shoved into his mouth.

"You don't look so good." Giorno noticed as you took a seat at the table, joining the men who took notice of your, quite awful-looking, presence.

"Yeah..." You breathed, obviously tired. "I have the worst headache possible, yesterday's mission was just terrible..."

You craddled your painful head with one hand and served yourself some coffee with the other, in desperate need of some caffeine to relieve the pounding in your brain.

"Oh yeah! You came back home all wasted and messed up last night, what happened?" Mista shot up as he was feeding some biscuits to the Sex Pistols.

"The mission started off great, just some basic undercover at some grand ceremony, but right around the end of the party, that one Stand user spotted me and long story short, I had to down up the entire punch bowl all by myself to drown the Stand's effect and prevent the guy from jumping me. It was wild..."

You sighed and chugged your black coffee raw, no sugar, no creamer, no nothing, bland. Fugo made a face at you and Abbachio feigned concern.

"Poor child."

"You remember what happened when you got home?" Mista smirked, a deliciously evil idea suddenly running through his otherwise empty head.

"No... It's all blurry, I woke up in my bed, that's it..." You rubbed your eyes, not even slightly ready for what you were about to hear.

" 'Cause you and Bucciarati were loooouuud yesterday night!" Mista teased, pointing accusatingly at you and you stared at him in disbelief.

Giorno squinted suspiciously at his friend and Abbachio clicked his tongue with sheer annoyance. There we go again. Narancia could only lean over the table in anticipation, things getting just about the right amount of juicy.

"What?? What do you mean loud?!"

"Like..." Mista choked in an arrogant snicker. "You fell in his arms, and I went to my room, so far so good, but then I heard the noises."

"You're lying!" You tried to sound confident, but you were very much believing his words and getting more and more scared. "Wh-what kind of noises?"

Mista slowly slurped his tea while glancing at you sideways. "...well I shouldn't elaborate, there are children in this room."

"W-where is he now?!! Bucciarati!!" You turned fully to the gunslinger, your hands shaking, burning with the need to grab him and shake his brains out. No way he was truthing right now, he must be messing with you, you thought.

"He's probably still sleeping, you must have left him... Heh... restless." He snorted by the end of his sentence and Narancia roared at the sinful assumption.

"OOOOOOOHHHH!!!"

You gasped and grabbed his collar. "Dude I swear you're lying right now, you're lying! Bucciarati will lick your face that's how bad you're lying!!!"

"Can we not talk about this again, please?" Speak of the devil, Bucciarati came in and you all stared at him.

You checked him up and down anxiously for any signs of dishevelement that could have resulted from a potential 'wild' night Mista seemed to hint at.

But he looked perfectly fine, as he always was. Nothing strange or out of place to note. You bolted up so fast, you almost knocked your chair off.

"C-capo!!! I have a question!" You choked on your own spit from speaking too fast and the man chuckled, putting his hands on your tense shoulders.

"That can wait, Y/N. Go sit down and finish your breakfast. You have the day off, take it easy."

He then sat down next to Abbachio and started eating and you defeatedly got back to your seat. Mista, as well as the others pretended the conversation never even happened and rathered none of you ever bringing anything up.

And so you were left there, confused out of your mind, wondering if anything was even real and what was your life anymore.

You glanced over at the smiling gunman joking with Fugo.

Thanks a lot Mista.

Bonus:

"Hey Bucciarati?"

"Hm?"

"Did you... Like... Do the do with Y/N last night?"

The leader deadpanned at Mista while putting his newspaper down. What the hell was he babbling on again?

"...Really now?"

"I'm just asking! 'Cause you know, yesterday, you two were all alone and..." He trailed off, hinting at the obvious, at least for a dirty minded person. "Y/N was kinda like... Not even standing straight and shit..."

Bucciarati sighed heavily, already tired on his only peaceful day and got back to reading his newspaper.

"I'm not taking advantage of a drunken, non-consenting person, Guido, if that's what you were assuming."

"O-okay..." The gunman paused and looked forward for a moment. Not done with the conversation, he broke the silence again.

"But would you be mad if everyone thought you did it?" Bucciarati glared at Mista, wondering if he was serious. "...including Y/N?"

"...You're a dead man."

[vajranam]

Giving Up On Meat

Song of Advice for Giving Up Meat Eating

by Nyala Pema Dündul

When I think of the suffering that meat eating brings,

I cannot bear the pain and anguish I feel within my heart.

Oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ hrīḥ!

From a state of emptiness and compassion, you guide beings — 

Noble Avalokiteśvara, to you I pay homage.

Without having trained in love and compassion myself,

I ate the flesh of my mothers while lecturing others about cause and effect.

Without realizing the absolute, I wandered along the path of empty words.

I, the parrot-like beggar of White Rock,

Was practicing austerities and ‘extracting the essence’,[1]

When, one day, while meditating on Lord Avalokiteśvara,

According to the union of stages from Self-Liberation Equal to Space,[2]

My own body and everything around me suddenly disappeared

And transformed into a luminous body like that of the Great Compassionate One,

Seemingly floating in space.

As I looked around while experiencing luminous awareness,

I saw the inconceivable miseries of the lower realms.

And, in particular, the vast sufferings of the Reviving Hell.

One of its quarters, I saw, was completely filled

With men and women, naked and helpless, before each of whom

Stood throngs of evil-looking servants with heads

Like birds, wild and domesticated animals, and ferocious beasts.

Many of the servants held sharp weapons in their hands,

With which to slice apart and devour the flesh of their victims.

Time and again they cut, and time and again flesh grew back.

Victims did not expire until their karma was fully exhausted,

And habitual tendencies did not diminish, but only increased.

For those who had performed ‘red offerings’ it was even worse.

Loudly, they all screamed in terrible pain and agony.

When I had seen this external manifestation of my own perception,

I wondered what might be done to stop such suffering.

And, in that very instant, in the sky before me,

The Great Compassionate One appeared, and said:

“Ema! My son, who has been close to me throughout many lives,

Listen well now, you who are diligent and determined!

You have gained stability in the generation stage of deity yoga,

And have even developed a few qualities,

But the root of Dharma lies in loving kindness and compassion.

Do you have real love and compassion within yourself?

How could anyone trained in compassion ever eat flesh?

Just look at how eating meat brings such suffering!

The results of our own actions will ripen on us alone;

There is nothing the buddhas of the three times may do.

Eating meat has no virtue whatsoever but entails many faults.

It is the source of 400 forms of disease and 80,000 obstructing forces,

And it naturally brings about the 84,000 afflictive emotions.

Other than as part of the fearless conduct of benefitting all one encounters,

Or as a medicine or sacred substance of the supreme Secret Mantra,

Consumption of flesh involves not the tiniest trace of virtue.

Eating flesh is a sign of being either a māra or rākṣasa demon.

It causes discipline to degenerate and negative emotions to increase.

Without the cause, which is altruistic love and compassion,

You will find it hard to gain the fruit, the essence of awakening.

Meat eaters are not accompanied by the wisdom deities.

They lack blessings, accomplishment, auspiciousness and activity.

The substance of altruism does not develop in eaters of flesh,

Whom gods, nāgas and others regard as demons.

Meat eaters are plagued by gandharvas, rākṣasas, māras,

Yamas, ghosts, spirits, gyalpo, gongpo, and samaya-breaking demons.

The result of eating meat is rebirth in the hells,

Or as a bird, a jackal, a cannibal demon, or the like.

Meat eating thus brings suffering beyond measure.

But by renouncing it, you are freed from all these faults,

And will always be revered by non-human beings,

Who will see you as a pure, authentic brahmin or god.

All the buddhas and bodhisattvas, together with their retinues, throughout the ten directions,

Gurus, yidam deities and ḍākinīs will gather around you like clouds,

And you will be accompanied by male and female bodhisattvas.

Quite naturally, you will possess the cause of loving kindness and compassion,

And swiftly reach the fruit, which is the essence of awakening.

These are just some of the inconceivable virtues to be gained.”

Thus he spoke; and then, once my own perception had returned,

I felt as if I had awakened from a lucid dream.

My body and mind were tormented as if I had swallowed poison,

And I shook with fear and panic.

Just thinking of the terrible sufferings of the Reviving Hell,

I wished only to exchange my happiness for others’ pain.

So utterly overwhelmed was my mind, I wept profusely.

And I felt intense, unbearable compassion.

Then, to take upon myself the sufferings of others,

And to purify their faults and obscurations caused by eating meat,

For every mother sentient being, as infinite in number as space is vast,

I made the following vow, true according to the two levels of reality:

“Aho! Mighty sage Śākyamuni and all buddhas and bodhisattvas throughout the whole of space and time,

Have compassion for this child who knew nothing of cause and effect!

Hosts of gracious root and lineage masters, care for me!

Have compassion for this child who knew nothing of cause and effect!

Supreme yidam deity, mighty Avalokiteśvara, care for me!

Have compassion for this child who knew nothing of cause and effect!

Overwhelmed by ignorance and the two obscurations,

I have often spoken of how all infinite beings have been our parents,

And while living off their flesh, lectured about cause and effect.

I had no idea that the suffering involved was so great!

Often have I heard it said that eating meat with threefold purity[3]

Is sanctioned by the Buddha and does not count as sin.

But this applies only to saints who benefit all they encounter,

Like pure lotus flowers, unstained by negative emotions,

And to practitioners of the profound path of Secret Mantra.

For my part, I have no instruction more profound

Than altruistic love and compassion,

And the infallibility of cause and effect.

To purify all the faults and obscurations of eating flesh

Among all sentient beings, who extend throughout the whole of space,

From this moment on, I completely renounce the eating of flesh.

This is my unfailing commitment, which I shall never forsake.

Even if all the animals upon this earth were to be devoured,

There would still be no satisfaction; hunger would only continue to increase.

Deprived of food or drink for just a few days,

We feel as if we have never tasted even so much as a single morsel or drop before.

Now is the time to escape this demon, hunger.

What, after all, is the cause of this flesh?

It springs only from self-clinging and attachment.

Merely to think of it makes me weary, nauseated.

This utterly unappetizing mound of mess and filth,

Bound up with the thirty-six impure substances,

A body of habitual patterns and aggregates, is the basis for all suffering.

Each animal has its own negative actions,

And whoever eats the flesh of such beings will find it hard to win liberation.

Meat and alcohol are impure substances,

And to offer them does not count as generosity, the Buddha said.

Who, therefore, would eat this food of the afflictions?

Pretas must live for many thousands of human years

Without seeing food or drink, enduring only suffering.

But we human beings gladly drink even ice-cold water,

And have plenty to sustain us besides meat and alcohol.

If we are still not satisfied by such delights,

How could we repay past kindnesses so unfairly?

Throughout the course of countless aeons past

In every world within this universe so vast,[4]

There’s not a single being who has not been our mother.

And the milk we drank from maternal breasts would fill a billion seas.

I abandon all pretence; let the Three Jewels be my witness!

In the past, under the sway of ignorance and habit,

I ate my parents’ flesh and did not remorsefully confess.

Now with pure motivation and the four powers complete,

As in the saying, “I was not, am not, and will not be attached,”

Henceforth, may the thought of eating meat never even cross my mind.

Should I ever fail, let the Three Jewels send their punishment.

May the protectors and guardians constantly keep watch.

Were I now to eat the flesh of my past mothers,

There would be no greater transgressor in all the three realms!

The Buddha said that harming others even slightly impairs one's vows.

So what need is there to mention flesh eating which involves taking life?

In the Parinirvāṇa Sūtra, Laṅkāvatāra and elsewhere, it is said

That eating meat is tantamount to killing.

It is forbidden in both the greater and lesser vehicles,

But is particularly unacceptable for bodhisattvas.

Our Teacher himself, when he appeared as a partridge’s young,

And as a ferocious beast[5] in the wild, would not eat meat.

How then could we, his followers, ever do so?

In accordance with the guidance of the Victorious One,

There were many great masters in India and Tibet who gave up meat.

As all this shows, the faults of meat eating are unimaginably vast.

Not cultivating negativity is itself genuine Dharma.

So may I always comply with the authentic teaching!"

Having seen the boundless faults that come from eating meat,

Even the thought of it is as nauseating as poison.

And so, I, the great beggar with the name of Dündül,

Composed these words of advice to encourage my own renunciation

In the Sky Fortress hermitage of White Rock.

As a result of this virtue, may all sentient beings

Purify all the faults and obscurations that come from eating meat,

So that they may see the thousand buddhas face to face!

| Translated by Adam Pearcey, with many thanks to Ringu Tulku Rinpoche for his clarifications. Original translation 2004. Revised version 2017.

[thekingofwinterblog]

Missing the point- Comparing Attack on titan’s final ending to The Mist ending

it was all for nothing. literarily everything the entire attack on titan built up was all for nothing. what every single sane fan predicted after the original 139 chapter came to pass. paradis was destroyed, its people genocided. Eren’s stupid, stupid suprise twist plan didnt work.

there will undoubtedly be many, many who posts their own take on this ending in the future, but i just wanna go over how if this was the original mist ending the mangaka had in mind, then it missed the mark so far it isnt even funny, because it would seem Isayama didnt really understand why the ending of the mist movie was so powerfull.

So, a quick recap(spoilers from here on) of the mists ending.

the Main character David Drayton and his family and two aquentainces are stranded in the middle of a supernatural fog. now, they know that this fog is full of inhuman monsters thats killed quite a few people over the course of the movie. the story has gone to great lengths to make sure the audience knows exactly how screwed the characters are. they hear things in the distance. they understand that the end is coming. they are all going to die here. however, there is a catch. while they are all going to die, they need not actually die by the hands of these monsters, who will probably kill them in slow, gruesome ways.

For as it happens, they have a gun. they have the option of going out quickly, and painlessly. one problem. the gun has only 4 bullets. in the end, the adults make a decision as the child son is sleeping. the one left alive, who did the deed is david drayton.

after killing his family, David usurprisingly has a massive breakdown, screaming, crying, futilely trying to kill himself with the empty gun. in the end, he gets out of the car and screams into the mists “COME ON!!!” wanting to get this over with, and die as quickly as humanly possible, to ridd him of his guilt, after just having snuffed out everything he loved in the world.

The sounds come closer and.... out of the mists rolls a tank. an american tank from the us army. 

David just stares at it in numb confusion as it rolls by. the tank is followed by other military personal and vehicles. the mists begin to lift, revealing that the entire army is moving in to help with the situation, killing the supernatural invaders. this is completely logical, yet flies in the face of everything the audience expects, both from the perspective of a fictional work as a structure, and subverting the all too common idea in stories like this that the army is completely helpless.

for david though, being saved by the army gives no comfort, and as he finally begins to really understand whats going on, he has another breakdown, as he understands that he just killed his family for nothing, absolutely nothing.

the movie ends on this tragic scene, while two very confused and concerned army dudes walks up to him trying to figure out what is wrong. end credits.

this was the ending that isayama said he wanted to emulate for attack on titan.

Now, on the surface, this kinda looks like that ending. but only on the surface.

because it misses the actual point that the mists ending had utterly, and fails to understand what made it such a powerfull tragedy.

it wasnt just that david failed to save his family, it wasnt JUST that he himself killed them, it wasnt just that had he waited 5 more minutes, he and his entire family would have been rescued.

No, what made it powerfull, was that we saw his entire journey, from start, to ending, and at the end, he was still there. the character that the entire movie had spent its time building up was completely, and totally destroyed as a human being through his own flawed, but human decisions, and at the end, it turned out that he, not the inhuman monsters, were the one who was the ultimate harbringer of his family’s ultimate destruction.

and in the end, we got to actually see the complete destruction of him as a man, a father, a husband.

the problem here is simple.

we get none of that.

Isayama wants his cake, and he wants to eat it too.

He wants an ending where the entirety of paradis is destroyed, but he doesnt want to actually end this story on a tragedy, even though by all metrics, it was one.

He didnt want to have eren die as a monster, so he throws in a chapter to humanize him, completely tearing down everything we thought we knew about why he did what he did to achieve it, and not have him die as a man who decided to brun down the world for very selfish, incredibly wrong, but also completely human reasons.

He didnt want to have to portray armin as a complete joke, and have the attempt to make peace just completely fail, and the eldians and marleyans begin killing each other the moment eren was dead.

but most important of all, he didnt want to end the story by having the characters who saved the world, dying from bombs from the sky, or machine gun fire from an invading army, having come to commit complete genocide on the eldians.

so in the end, he tried to sidestep it all, by having the end come a few generations afterwards, when all the characters we had followed was long dead. and by doing so, he robbed the story of any sense of drama, theme, and any of the emotinal gut punch from the consequences of the character’s actions.

Eren doesnt die as a complete monster who was willing to do anything to ensure his people would live. the alliance gets to save the world, but dont have to face the consequenses of the fact that they had no plan, that instead happens to their grandchildren.

In the end, attack on titan was a tragedy, where eren didnt achieve a single, bloody thing, making his entire journey pointless, as a child is about to enter his grave, and become the new ymir. the titan’s power will be born again.

that should have weight. it should feel like a sad, sad ending. but instead, I, and so many others, just doesnt care. because the story doesnt care. because it wanted to end on a cheery, upbeat, bittersweet ending, when what this story needed was complete and total tragedy to work. It is all spectacle, no substance, and not particularily good spectacle at that.

[keichanz]

Like Magic

hmm self control? don’t know her *fucks off to the land of unfinished WIPs*

so, i started this oneshot a while ago, forgot about it, then decided to dig through my WIP folder to maybe work on something else besides YRM for a while because I needed a small break from it. found this again, immediately dove in and welp here we are haha. I had a lot of run writing it and I hope you guys enjoy it :) it’s 32 pages jesuS CHRI

real quick, if Souji appears smarter than the average 2 year old boy it’s because i legit don’t know how to portray children since i know virtually nothing about them, so just pretend that half-demon children are slightly more advanced than human kids in this fic mkay? kthx. :)

oh and also when reading Inuyasha’s little light show for Souji, think about this video.

@fantastiqueparfait​ @morikothehalfangel​ @cammysansstuff​ @heyy-ahriii​ @tsukinohimeusagi​ @eternalnight8806-3​ @mamabearcat​ @hinezumi​ @sssuperbartola​ @doginabirdcage​ @ideasthatbuildcities​ @armor-emblem​ 

oh and @meggz0rz​.....remember a while ago when i first started this oneshot you mentioned that i should make Inuyasha do Joker’s pencil trick on Kouga? 

well...you’re gonna get a kick outta the ending ahahahah.

enjoy, lovelies~ 

Kagome’s head was positively throbbing and she was pretty sure it had more to do with the very distraught, screaming child in her arms than the fresh cut on her forehead that was still bleeding.

The flashing lights and loud engines of the emergency vehicles combined with the tow truck’s back-up alarm as it prepared to haul her totaled car away definitely wasn’t helping matters, and she was damn positive all the noise wasn’t helping her baby’s current temperament, either. With his ears pinned flat against his head to no doubt muffle the noise, his face red and scrunched up into a consistent howl with tears running unchecked down his flushed cheeks, her precious Souji had been inconsolable ever since she pulled him from her wrecked car.

At first she’d thought he was hurt somewhere and so she’d frantically searched him over as he cried, ignoring the witnesses that rushed over and asked if she was alright, but she’d only been able to marginally relax upon discovering he’d only suffered a few minor scrapes and bruises. She’d taken most of the damage, with a gash on her forehead, severe bruising on her side and diagonally across her torso form the seat belt, and her right ankle was aching something fierce, but she’d gladly take all that and more if it meant her baby boy was spared.

The accident had happened nearly an hour ago, Kagome was tired, sore, worn out, and Souji was proving rather thoroughly that he was perfectly fine by showing the entire neighborhood that he had quite the set of lungs on him.

Which really was quite unfortunate since it was, y’know, one o’clock in the morning and no doubt people were trying to sleep. Key word: trying. Kagome was pretty confident the entire damn neighborhood was awake now because of her son’s consistent shrieking, and she sent another mental apology to them.

She’d tried everything to get him to calm; singing his favorite lullaby, settling him in his mercifully undamaged car seat to rock him back to sleep, talking to him, walking around with him in her arms—absolutely nothing was working. Some of the kind spectators and even police officers had tried offering food and a young mother had even provided a sippy cup of chocolate milk, but Souji was having none of it. Kagome cursed herself for leaving her phone at home since usually putting on his favorite cartoon worked like a charm, but this was supposed to be just a quick drive to get him to fall asleep; taking her phone hadn’t seemed necessary.

He refused to let anyone come near her to treat her wounds, and he wouldn’t let anyone take him from her either. He became aggressive and nearly hysterical whenever an officer or EMT tried to take him, and she was sporting several scratches from where his claws had dug into her shoulders and arms. His screeching was the worst when that happened and it wasn’t long before they stopped trying altogether. Probably because with every attempt, whoever it was walked away with teeth marks or scratches somewhere on their body and Kagome had lost count of how many times she’d apologized.

To be honest, however, she couldn’t say she was very surprised. Ever since she’d left his father, Souji had been extremely protective of her, and even though he was only two years old, he let it be known if they were out in public that no one was allowed to touch her. He started growling whenever someone got too close, even bared his teeth on a couple occasions, and more than once she’d had to stop him from physically swiping with his claws.

Kagome understood his behavior. She knew why he was acting like this, and while most of the time it was endearing, sometimes it…well, wasn’t, and she wanted to go back in time and punch her ex-boyfriend in his stupid face for what he did. It was his fault her sweet little Souji was like this, and while completely understandable, it was still utterly frustrating and difficult to deal with, especially during times like this so Mama could get some relief.

“Oh, baby,” Kagome cooed for what seemed like the thousandth time, bouncing her son in her arms as she walked aimlessly around a little ways away from all the action of the police cars, ambulances, and curious spectators. Souji continued to wail at the top of his little lungs and she sighed, closing her eyes as she rubbed his back and tried to ignore the pounding in her head. Her arms were aching from holding him for so long, she had a limp from her sore ankle, and his slight weight agitated the fresh bruises on her body.

Ignoring the looks directed her way from the police, medics, and street residents alike, Kagome limped her way back over to the flimsy plastic chair someone had provided from somewhere and gratefully sank down. She grimaced when her sore chest and side protested, but she endured it as Souji burrowed against her, clinging to her shirt and digging his tiny claws in as he sobbed into her neck, his little body shaking, his sobs breaking her heart.

She kissed him between his little ears, feeling completely helpless. She knew he was scared and this was just his way of telling her that, but still, she wished she could do something. She wished she had the ability to make him understand he was safe, she was here, and nothing would ever harm him as long as she was around.

“Shh, baby, shh,” Kagome soothed, resting her head against his own and heaving another sigh as she stared tiredly at the ruckus surrounding her.

The man that had ran the stop sign and slammed into her had long ago been detained and was, last she knew, passed out in the back of a police cruiser. If she recalled, he had sustained little to no injury and that just freaking figured, didn’t it. It was always the drunk assholes that suffered the least, and the victims ended up with most of the damage.

Police tape was cordoning off the scene of the accident, and her car was in the process of being secured to the back of the tow truck along with the truck that had totaled her little sedan. Most of the spectators had returned to their homes, either too tired, or leaving because the excitement had passed. Police milled about, taking statements of witnesses or those who claimed they saw what happened, and the medics just sort of wandered around since their only patient was unapproachable. She felt a little guilty since she was keeping them from doing their job so they could pack up and go home, but it was fleeting because she had no energy to care anymore.

She just wanted to go home because maybe then Souji would finally calm down once he realized he was in safe, familiar surroundings, and a long, hot bath sounded positively divine right now. Thank god she worked from home so she didn’t have to worry about that in the morning, and though she doubted she’d be able to sleep in – a thing of the past when she became a mother – she would at least be able to sneak in a couple naps when Souji slept.

Souji paused in his howling to suck in a few unsteady breaths before continuing his distraught sobbing, mercifully at a slightly lower volume this time, and Kagome sighed as she rubbed his back, thinking that she would just have to let him cry it out. What else could she do?

When Inuyasha arrived on scene, he was greeted with the familiar sight of flashing red and blue lights, ambulances, and a tow truck with two very banged up vehicles hitched to the bed. It was your typical accident scene, nothing at all he hadn’t seen before, and when he spotted several of his colleagues seemingly just standing around doing shit all, he wondered why the hell he’d been called in if medics were already here.

He’d been planning on spending the night watching bad movies and eating slightly burnt pizza since he still hadn’t fixed his oven, but then he’d gotten the call to report to an accident not far from his apartment and those plans sailed right out the window. If it had been anyone other than Kaede that had called he would have flat out ignored them and carried on. But if it was his boss that was calling, he knew it had to be serious, so he hadn’t bothered to ask questions before giving his affirmative and suiting up.

Now, however, as he approached the yellow police tape and cut the engine on his Ford, he had a very good idea as to why his services were required. His ears flicked from beneath his ballcap and when he opened the door, the racket get even louder, confirming his suspicious. Oh yeah—that was one seriously ticked off kid.

He sighed and retrieved his medical bag from the backseat along with another smaller drawstring bag before ducking beneath the tape and heading toward a waving Kaede. He took a moment to glance around, instantly pinpointing where the racket was coming from, and his eyebrows rose into his bangs. Jesus, the kid couldn’t be more than two years old, and the mother looked pretty banged up. What the hell? Why hadn’t she been treated yet?

When he reached Kaede, she didn’t bother with pleasantries and launched right into an explanation. That’s what he liked about her; she never beat around the bush and didn’t like to waste time with small talk, much like himself. Probably why she was the only one he could tolerate to be around for more than five minutes at a time.

“Two patients, one child aged one to two years, one female, appears to be in her lower twenties,” Kaede started, relaying what he already knew, but it was standard procedure so he didn’t stop her. “Baby appears to be unharmed—”

“You don’t say,” Inuyasha muttered under his breath but Kaede ignored him.

“—both from observation and continued reassurances from mom. Mom has sustained several contusions along the torso and left side, possible whiplash and bruised ribs, possible sprained ankle, and possible concussion—”

“Possible?” Inuyasha repeated with a perplexed frown. “Why is nothing confir—”

Kaede leveled a glare at him and he wisely shut up.

“Nothing life threatening,” she continued, shifting her gaze toward the two patients in question and Inuyasha watched as some of her professionalism slipped, face softening into a concerned frown. “However, because we are unable to get close enough to perform an accurate assessment of both of them, injuries for both are as yet undetermined, so nothing concrete is confirmed.”

This just kept getting weirder and weirder. “Why the hell can’t anyone get close? It’s a woman and baby. Hardly any threat.”

At this, Kaede actually sighed and looked directly at him, her one gray eye intense and serious.

“The child is not fully human, Inuyasha,” she revealed and his eyes widened. “Any attempt to get close or take him away results in the babe physically lashing out in an endeavor to, I suspect, protect his mother. Unusual behavior for a child so young, and the mother refuses to have him sedated, which I can’t blame her.”

Inuyasha sucked in a breath and shifted his gaze over to the mother and child, amber eyes zeroing in on the infant bawling against his mother’s chest.

“You said…not fully human,” he murmured and flicked a glance at his superior.

Kaede nodded.

“How…?”

“She managed to relate some information before the child started getting aggressive,” she supplied. “I called you, Inuyasha, not only because of your skills with children—”

He snorted at that because really?

“—but because I thought perhaps out of anyone, you might be able to get close enough to treat both of them without the child deeming you as a threat. It’s a long shot, I realize, but at this point I’m willing to try anything.”

Inuyasha took note of the exhaustion in her eyes and posture and he couldn’t keep the corner of his lips from twitching upward.

“How long has he been screaming?”

“One hour and thirteen minutes,” one of his colleagues groaned from behind her and Kaede sighed again as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Fine,” Inuyasha finally said and then cocked a brow at her. “I’ll do what I can, but he’s probably only howling because he’s scared, Kaede, not because he’s hurt. No doubt he smells his mother’s blood and senses her pain, and combined with the shock of experiencing something he doesn’t understand and all the different scents around, it’s unlikely he’ll let me examine him.”

The look Kaede sent him was very dry and suggested that this was reason number two as to why she’d called him. He shrugged and simply raised his brows as if to say “what?”

“Just do something,” the same colleague pleaded and there was a general murmur of concurrence of that statement from the people still present, three of which were police officers.  

Shaking his head, Inuyasha nonetheless did as he was bade, however before approaching he took a minute to appraise his tiny patient and his mother. He still couldn’t get over that the kid was in fact a half-demon like himself since they were such a rarity now a days, but he didn’t allow himself to think on it for too long. The kid was trying his level best to burrow inside his mother’s shirt - a shirt, he noticed, with numerous tears in it no doubt caused by wee claws - and she looked…well, she looked like hell.

Unsurprising, considering she’d just been in a goddamn accident, but still she looked about ready to collapse and before Inuyasha even realized it he was moving forward, absently slipping his hand inside the smaller bag he’d grabbed to set his tentative plan in motion.

“Sou, you’re gonna rip Mama’s shirt if you keep doing that,” Kagome murmured and once again gently stopped him from trying to crawl inside it. “I don’t feel like flashing everybody here if that’s okay with you.”

Souji screeched his protest and Kagome winced, fearing that after this she’d be partially deaf. Sure he’d had his tantrums before, but never like this. She hadn’t even known his voice could reach that pitch, and if it hurt her ears, she couldn’t even imagine what it was doing to his. Then again, he did keep them pinned down most of the time, and he was upset enough where he was ignoring all her attempts to calm him down, so perhaps he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Shh, Sou, it’s okay, Mama’s here,” she soothed for the nth time, kissing his forehead and rocking him in her arms, or as much as she could while sitting. “Mama’s got you, you’re safe, it’s alright…”

Her baby boy continued to cry, obvious, and Kagome’s heart broke a little more. God, she hated this, hated that she couldn’t figure out what he needed, hated that her son was so upset he was having trouble breathing, and she hated how useless she was. She felt like the world’s worst mother and tears pricked her eyes, but she stubbornly held them back. Now was not the time for that. She needed to be strong for her baby, she needed to be there for him. And no doubt he would smell her tears and become even more upset and she really wanted to avoid that.

Feeling helpless, Kagome started humming his favorite lullaby under her breathe as she rubbed his ears, but paused when she glanced up and saw the approaching figure. She sighed and shook her head in a wordless plea for him to keep his distance, vaguely registering that this was someone new she hadn’t seen before, with a lean build, broad shoulders, and long silver hair that hung over his shoulder in a loose ponytail. It didn’t matter, though; man or woman, human or demon, Souji always reacted the same and made it clear that they were not to be touched. She was positive this time would be no different.

As predicated, Souji started growling when he registered the new, unfamiliar scent that was drawing ever closer and when he was close enough Kagome opened her mouth to warn him. But then to her surprise, instead of getting too close and immediately trying to cajole Souji into compliance, the man stopped a few feet away and slowly lowered himself into a crouch before them.

Kagome blinked. Eyes the color of whiskey regarded her steadily before his head dipped in a slight nod and bemused, she returned it. His gaze flicked to the child in her lap and he seemed to be waiting for something, not moving, his posture relaxed, expression giving nothing away. If Kagome had bothered to look up at that moment she would have seen nearly everyone present was watching them but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the admittedly very attractive man in front of her who, she belatedly realized, must be an EMT judging by his attire.

Souji’s growling steadily grew in volume until, when the scent did not move away like anticipated, he spun around in Kagome’s arms and snarled at the newcomer, his little face screwed up and baring mini fangs. The man was unfazed, calm in the face of her infant son’s righteous fury and since he wasn’t in the vicinity of tiny claws, Souji merely continued to glare at him.

Though not exactly a very good tradeoff for his constant howling, the reprieve was nonetheless welcomed and Kagome was sure she was not the only one giving a soft sigh of relief.

Evidently having been waiting for Souji’s attention, the man braced one knee on the ground, propped his elbow on his opposite thigh, and then did something that Kagome’s exhausted brain was having a very difficult time processing.

He brought his hand up, reached into his uniform shirt pocket, and…brought out a…glowing red ball of light?

The results were instantaneous and so confounded by how the hell he did that, Kagome didn’t realize until a solid ten seconds later that Souji had gone quiet. His growls had stopped, he wasn’t snarling, and he wasn’t attempting to lash out of the man. Utterly captivated, his blue eyes were fixated on the red light grasped between the EMT’s clawed fingertips and Kagome could only gape at him in astonishment. Part of her was actually a little insulted that it had been that easy to gain his attention, but the much larger part of her was just plain glad he’d stopped screaming.

Satisfied he’d gained the pup’s undivided attention, Inuyasha resisted the urge to grin in amusement as he started “tossing” the red light back and forth from one hand to the other, those blue eyes following every move. Relieved his plan seemed to be working, he put on a little show for his two-person audience, making the light disappear and reappear, and he’d be lying it he said the look on the kid’s face was completely endearing.

So was the woman’s for that matter, but that was something to dwell on later.

Alright, on to part two now. Allowing one side of his mouth to quirk up into a half-grin, Inuyasha brought his hand to his mouth and pretended to swallow the red light before splaying out his hands, showing it was gone. The kid made a sound of confusion and blinked. Flicking a brief glance at the pup’s mom, Inuyasha lifted his hand and removed his hat, revealing the twin ears atop his head.

She gasped but he didn’t look at her again as he flicked his ear a few times for effect, tilted his head, and gave a few solid taps to his temple as if to empty his ears of water. He lifted his other hand to his ear and the red light reappeared between his fingers, as if he’d plucked it from his ear. The kid’s face lit up in delight and he caught the soft giggle of the woman before him.

Inuyasha dared to inch a little closer and when the child did not react, his eyes zeroed in on his hands, he edged closer until he was kneeling right in front of him. He never paused in his little magic trick, tossing the light and catching it again in his fingers, changing it up at times by putting the light in his fist and then opening it only to reveal it had vanished. He “ate” it a few more times, only for it to reappear on some random point on his body, and it wasn’t until the fear in the pup’s scent had significantly decreased that Inuyasha decided to take it a little further.

The next time he pretended to swallow the light, instead of plucking it off of his body, Inuyasha very slowly reached forward and grasped it out of thin air beside the pup’s head. He actually giggled that time and Inuyasha released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, giving a quiet chuckle as he caught the gaze of the woman behind the child.

She was smiling at him, big brown eyes bright, and he detected a trace amount of salt as she mouthed, “Thank you.”

Inuyasha swallowed thickly and felt his face grow a little warm as he nodded once, his stupid heart doing stupid little palpitation in his chest, and he returned his attention to the task at hand. The light appeared once again and he was surprised when the kid actually reached for it and amused, but grateful, Inuyasha held still and waited until little fingers curled around his own.

It disappeared and Inuyasha held his hands out as he rumbled, “Where’d it go?”

The pup blinked at him and pointed to his ear. Inuyasha obliged and reached for an ear not unlike his own, gasping softly when the light reappeared in his fingers.

“Found it,” he said and received a happy giggle before tiny hands went to grab it again.  It vanished, and he plucked it from under the babe’s chin this time.

Delighted, great blue eyes swung around to regard his mother with a big grin and Kagome couldn’t help but release a choked laugh and lean forward to kiss his forehead. God, she couldn’t thank this wonderful, beautiful man enough.

Inuyasha blew on his fingers and the light vanished. The toddler laughed and pointed to his nose. The older half-demon chuckled and plucked it off the tiny nose that time before boldly reaching for a small hand and placing the magic light onto the chubby little palm.

He held his hands up and said, “Throw it at me, bud.”

Blue eyes blinked at him but the Souji grinned and he waved his entire arm in an approximation of a toss.

“Whoa,” Inuyasha exaggerated, rearing back onto his heels and pretending as if the throw had a lot of force behind it. The kid laughed and bounced in his mother’s lap, utterly delighted. He held out his hand again and the silver-haired medical technician put the red light onto the small hand.

Immediately Souji smashed his hand against his mouth and Inuyasha gasped in faux outrage.

“Did you eat it?” he asked and was rewarded with joyful baby giggles. “Well then, I guess I have no choice but to…”

With a crooked grin, Inuyasha darted his hand out, tickled the pup’s round little tummy, and as the sound of his laughter rang into the night, he withdrew his hand with the magic red light grasped between his fingers.

Souji made the most adorable little “o” face and put both of his small hands over his belly, blue eyes wide as he stared down at it in astonishment. Then he whipped his head around to stare up at his mother in wide-eyed wonder and Kagome couldn’t help but laugh.

The toddler turned his attention back to the EMT in time to watch him put the red light in one pocket of his uniform slacks, only to bring it right back out of the opposite pocket with his other hand. He did this several more times, much to Souji’s giggling pleasure, before one hand up to his mouth and blowing on his fingers.

As he predicted, the kid gasped and started looking around, as if he would find the vanishing light floating about in the air somewhere. Flicking a glance at the woman behind the pup, Inuyasha wasn’t expecting to find her already staring at him, her eyes soft, her smile small but warm and totally grateful. The urge that slammed into him then was so strong and abrupt Inuyasha didn’t even think to fight it, his lips quirked upward slightly as he reached toward her.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he heard her soft gasp as he brushed his claws against her cheek, snapped his fingers beside her ear, then withdrew his hand with the red light glowing anew between clawed digits.

Absurdly Kagome felt her face heat in a soft blush even as a delighted smile blossomed across her face. In her lap Souji made a questioning noise and suddenly started squirming around until he was facing her. He pushed to his feet, balancing on her thighs, and Kagome’s hands automatically went to his waist to steady him as his hands reached for her ear and started inspecting it, his face utterly bemused as little sounds of confusion escaped him.

Inuyasha chuckled at the sight and figuring that was enough tricks for now since he still needed to examine his mom’s injuries – that cut on her forehead was especially concerning – he pocketed the fake fingertips and sat back to watch the two for a minute. Despite how clearly exhausted she looked, her patience was evidently limitless as she allowed her son to poke and prod around her head.

But then when he caught himself on her shoulders as he teetered a little on her lap, she gasped and then hissed through her teeth as her face scrunched up in involuntary reaction to the pain. Souji froze as his eyes went wide and as if he felt her pain as clearly as she did, his eyes started tearing up and he whimpered, his little hands fisting in her shirt.

Inuyasha’s eyes widened and they flew to Kagome’s. She was staring at him too, her eyes just as wide, and they knew if they didn’t do something fast Souji was going to go into another screaming fit.

Fuck. Fuck. Wracking his brain, Inuyasha darted his eyes to the pup, who was sitting on her lap now and putting even more tears in her shirt with his claws as he tugged at the fabric. Kagome grunted as she shifted him on her lap to alleviate his weight against her bruised flesh and Inuyasha went with the first idea that popped into his brain.

As Souji’s whimpering became louder, he flashed his eyes to Kagome and urgently mouthed, “Name?”

“Souji,” she immediately whispered back and started rocking her son in an attempt to stall his hysterics, wincing when his claws scratched at her skin through her shirt.

“Souji,” Inuyasha repeated aloud and much to his surprise the pup actually went quiet and turned around to stare at him, most likely perplexed as to how this stranger knew his name.

Encouraged, Inuyasha tried to appear as unintimidating as possible as he continued, “You know your mama is hurting, right? Do you want her to feel better?”

Souji blinked those great blue eyes at him and then nodded, his bottom lip trembling as more fat tears leaked from his eyes and another whine echoed in his throat.

Inuyasha nodded in what he hoped was in a reassuring fashion and cajoled, “Okay, champ, that’s good. Now listen up, I know how to make her feel better. I can treat your mom’s hurts and take the pain away, but in order to do that, I need you to let go of her and come to me, alright? Your mom needs help, and I want to give it to her. You understand?”

There was no way to tell if Souji did indeed understand what he was saying or if he didn’t as Inuyasha watched him, heart in his throat. The young half-demon frowned at him as if he was digesting the words, turning them over in his head, but at least he wasn’t on the verge of another break down which, in Inuyasha’s book, was a success.

Biting his lip, Souji turned his gaze to his mother and stared wide-eyed up at her, uncertainty and a smidgen of fright in those clear blue depths of his. Kagome’s heart ached and she smiled down at him, ignoring the ache in her side and shoulders as she gathered her baby boy closer and kissed him between his ears.

“It’s okay, baby,” she told him gently, rubbing one of his ears and then kissing his pudgy little cheek. “You can trust him, okay? He’s going to help me feel all better and take away all my hurts. Remember when Mama took care of you when you were sick last month? He’s gonna do the same thing, Sou.”

Souji blinked, furrowed his brow, then glanced back at the older half-demon, still a little uncertain. Could this stranger really make his Mama feel better? He remembered when his tummy hurt a while ago and Mama took care of him and made him some soup and crackers and rubbed his ears to make him feel better. This man would do the same?

The pup was still struggling a little on whether or not to trust him so Inuyasha gave him a little nudge in the right direction, slyly slipping his hand back into his pocket.

“You can trust me, squirt,” he rumbled and withdrew his hand to reveal his fingers alight with a familiar red glow. “I have magic fingers, remember? I promise I’ll make her feel better.”

The kid’s eyes grew wide once again as his gaze zeroed on in the clawed fingers. That’s right; he was magic! Then that meant he could make Mama feel better if he had magic hands. Right?

He looked at his mama again and when all she did was smile down at him with a little nod of encouragement, Souji made up his mind. His mama would never lie to him and he did want her to feel better. And besides…this man was different than the other people who tried to take him away from her.

He smelled like him, so he had to be good. Right?

Nodding and giving a little sniffle, Souji finally nodded back and slowly crawled off his mother’s lap. Relieved, Kagome helped him down, keeping her hands beneath his arms in case he slipped and when his tiny socked feet finally hit the cold pavement, she took a moment to rub his ear and run a hand through his hair, so very proud of her little boy.

“There’s my big boy,” she said softly, contrary to her thoughts.

Sniffling again, Souji wrinkled his nose and turned toward the other half-demon, hesitating before taking small steps over to him.

Breathing a sigh of relief and exchanging a quick thankful look with Kagome, Inuyasha offered a crooked grin at the kid and gestured him a little closer. Even though he was a half-demon like himself, he’d still feel better, and no doubt so would his mother, if he performed a brief exam just in case.

“Atta boy,” Inuyasha praised when the kid stopped in front of him and he reached up to ruffle his hair. The twin ears, just a shade lighter than the black hair, flicked in response and then he was rewarded with a soft, watery giggle.

“Thanks for trusting me, Souji,” he went on and reached down to tug his medical bag closer. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions first before I treat your mom?”

Souji wrinkled his nose and looked back at his mother as if wanting her approval. Kagome nodded and gestured that it was alright, so the little half-demon sighed and turned back toward the older male before giving a nod.

Inuyasha had to smile a little at that. “Thanks, bud. I’ll be quick. I’m gonna use this”—he held up a standard stethoscope—”so I can listen to your lungs and see if there’s anything wrong. That okay?”

Souji nodded again. He recognized that weird smelling thing whenever Mama took him to the get-better man.

“It’s gonna be a little cold,” he warned and with swift movements, Inuyasha placed the eartips into his ears before lifting up the hem of his shirt a little and pressing the diaphragm against the pup’s small chest. Souji squirmed a little at the cold steel but nonetheless stood there and allowed him to listen to his lungs.

“Everything sounds good,” Inuyasha announced a few minutes later and caught Kagome’s gaze over his patient’s shoulder. She was looking at him like he was her hero, eyes bright, the biggest, most grateful smile on her face and he could practically hear the sincerity in the two words as she mouthed to him, “Thank you.”

Inuyasha’s face softened even as a lump developed in his throat and he nodded once.

Putting the stethoscope back into his bag, the silver-haired medic started gently inspecting his arms and legs for scrapes or bruises as he asked, “Do you hurt anywhere? Your head? Ears? Feet?”

Souji wordlessly shook his head and bit his lip, unable to stop from wriggling beneath the older half-demon’s professional touch. He didn’t like people touching him, but he had to be a good boy so Mama could feel better. This was all for Mama, because he had to protect her, right?

“Do you feel sick? Does your stomach hurt?” Another negative. “Do you feel dizzy? Like you can’t see straight?” Souji once more shook his head, his young face open and honest.

Satisfied, Inuyasha nodded and pulled his hands away. “Good. Now, I have one last question.”

Souji cocked his head and blinked.

Inuyasha grinned. “Are you hungry?”

At that, Souji visibly perked up, ears swiveling forward, eyes going wide, and he put his hands over his tummy as if just now realizing he was indeed hungry.

The older half-demon took that as a yes and he chuckled a little then gestured him forward a little. Souji inched a little closer and Inuyasha placed his hand on the kid’s back as he directed his gaze over to a slightly confused, but smiling Kaede.

“See that woman over there, the short one with gray hair?” he asked and pointed across the way toward his boss. Souji stared blankly for a moment and then nodded. “She’s got some snacks for you along with some juice if you’re thirsty. Don’t worry, you can trust Kaede. She’s my friend and she’s also here to take care of your mom, alright?”

Souji was clearly hesitate though, despite the quiet rumbling in his tummy, and his ears flattened as he looked uncertainly between the nice man that smelled like him and the old lady he was pointing too before finally settling his gaze on his mom, needing a little guidance.

And even though her head was pounding, her side was aching, and her shoulder was burning, Kagome managed a warm smile for her little boy. Though it was slightly strained – something that Inuyasha did not fail to notice – it was completely genuine.

“It’s alright, Sou,” she encouraged, sounding tired but nonetheless sincere. “Go ahead. I know it’s late and you aren’t allowed snacks this time of night, but just this once is okay. Bring me back some juice, yeah?” She winked at him and was finally rewarded with her son’s brilliant smile.

Excited at the prospect of a snack so late at night, Souji nodded and with one last glance at Inuyasha, who quirked him an encouraging grin, he brushed by and headed toward the old woman, confident that the man would take care of his mama like he said he would. After all, he smelled like him and his ears were the same as his so he couldn’t be a bad person.

Kaede, already knowing what her half-demon subordinate was up to, gestured to one of the EMTs still lingering to fetch the bag of snacks she kept in her car for just this purpose. She knew it had been the right decision to call him in. Despite his constant gripes about being bad with children, he always proved himself wrong whenever it came to calming down a child and it was a sight she never got tired of. She was certain that the little boy being a half-demon like the EMT was definitely in his favor as well.

It was merely a bonus, she supposed with a sly little smile, that the boy’s mother was single and attractive to boot.

Chuckling to herself, Kaede thanked the young medic that handed over her bag full of treats and sweets and then told him, along with the rest of them still milling about, to either head back to the station and wait for another call. She was fairly certain Inuyasha could take things from here, and sneaking a glance over toward the two adults as the boy finally approached with wide blue eyes and cute little ears, she smiled.

Yes, she thought, kneeling down to Souji’s height with a warm smile. Calling Inuyasha in had been a very good idea.

Two pairs of eyes, one caramel colored and the other a rich honey hue, watched him toddle away, matching looks of relief on both of their faces. When the two-year-old reached the woman Inuyasha had pointed out to him, they both looked at one another and the smile she gave him had Inuyasha’s heart doing double time in his chest as his stomach did not so unpleasant flip-flops.

“I know I sound like a broken record at this point,” she began, her eyes suspiciously bright, “but I honestly can’t thank you enough. For your little show, stopping his crying, and looking him over even though he’s half-demon. So just…thank you.”

Inuyasha felt his cheeks warm and he shrugged, trying to play it off as he picked his hat off the ground and shoved it back on his head.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, although he couldn’t stop the little curl to his mouth a he picked up his bag and scooted a bit closer to her. “Just doing my job.”

“So calming down hysterical and terrified toddlers with magic tricks is in your job description?” Kagome teased and she was a little caught off guard by the slightly roguish grin the medic sent her.

“Keh. It worked, didn’t it?” he asked, not exactly sure where this confidence was coming from but not about to squander it. Not with the way she was smiling at him with a little blush on her cheeks and looking absolutely beautiful.

Inuyasha paused. Here she was, shirt nearly in tatters because of her son’s claws, hair a disheveled mess, face a little pale, bags under her eyes, and dried blood on her forehead from a cut and he thought she was beautiful.

Fuck. He was done for.

“I can’t argue with that,” she said, drawing him out of his musings and he focused his attention back on her. “I have to admit, even I was a little captivated. It was a neat trick.”

She giggled and good god could she get any fucking cuter.

“Oh good, because the real reason I do that particular trick is to reel in pretty mom’s with blue-eyed half-demon sons,” Inuyasha shamelessly flirted because fuck it, he was already one toe in dangerous waters he’d only ever attempted to swim in once before; why not just dunk his whole fucking body in in one go and get it over with because at this rate she’d have him on his knees before the night was over.

Crouching next to her now, Inuyasha watched in proud amusement as her pale face turned a deep, becoming shade of scarlet as those dark eyes widened with delighted realization. The corners of her lips twitched upward and she bit her lip, ducking her head a little shyly, but not once did she take her gaze off of his.

Yup. Totally, absolutely, wonderfully done for.

His eyes softened and he murmured, “What’s your name?”

“Kagome,” she replied right away, so trusting, so goddamn beautiful and god fuck she was pretty.

“Kagome,” he repeated and slid his arms beneath her body. She gasped and her arms automatically went around his neck. “I’m Inuyasha.”

Without preamble he stood with her in his arms, his medical bag slung over his shoulder even though he wouldn’t need it, and ignoring the knowing look he just knew his boss was casting him right now, he strode over to the idle ambulance with the open back doors and hopped inside.

“Better light and more convenient,” he explained as he carefully set her on the stretcher. “Plus it’s got better equipment and medical supplies than my bag does. And I think Kaede mentioned something about a possible sprained ankle?”

Kagome’s expression cleared and she nodded, flexing said ankle as if to test it and she winced at the twinge of pain that shot through it.

Silently the handsome golden-eyed medic started poking around the limited space of the vehicle, collecting the supplies required to treat her injuries and managing to find some painkillers along with bottle of water while rummaging about.

“I’m gonna start with that cut on your forehead since head injuries are top priority,” he announced and sank down on the cushioned seat provided for the medics before reaching over and tugging the gurney closer to him.

“Then if you’re alright with it, I’ll examine any contusions, determine if you have any fractured or bruised ribs, and take a look at your shoulder and ankle.”

Kagome gasped a little and curled her hands around the railing beneath her knees. He chuckled and gave the bed one final tug until her knees were between his spread legs. Perhaps the position was a little scandalous, but he needed a good look at that cut to determine if it needed stitches or not after he cleaned it.

“Sorry,” he murmured and received a smile in response. “I probably should have asked this before, but better late than never. Are you dizzy or lightheaded at all? Nauseas? Ringing in your ears? Any disorientation or confusion?”

Kagome took a moment to do a mental inspection of her body, but besides the general feeling of exhaustion and soreness, she otherwise felt fine and told him as much.

Relieved, Inuyasha offered her the painkillers and water for the no doubt pounding headache she had and she gratefully knocked them back with a swig of water. While she did that, he ripped open an alcohol swap and debated on whether or not to use gloves, but decided against it. His claws would just slice the latex, anyway.

He waited until his patient had had her fill of the cool refreshing liquid before muttering a word of warning for the sting and carefully started cleaning the cut on her forehead. Kagome hissed and flinched a little at the anticipated sting, but remained still so he could treat it with minimal difficulty, breathing deeply as she fisted her hands around the cold steel of the railing beneath her.

Inuyasha saw the strain on her face and his ears flattened against his head, feeling guilty, but knowing it was necessary. The more he cleaned it, though, the more apparent it became that she probably wasn’t going to need stitches so at least that was a bit of good news he was more than happy to share. This had no doubt already been the night from hell for her and he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“Good news is,” he said and used a fresh cotton swap to dab some antiseptic on it, “you don’t need stitches. It’s minor and should fully heal in a week or so.”

Kagome sighed, relieved. “And the bad news?”

Inuyasha’s mouth quirked. “It’ll probably leave a bit of a scar, but hey. It’ll look pretty badass, in my opinion. A battle scar.”

Kagome blinked and then snorted a laugh at that. “Something to tell the grandkids about?”

“Yeah, but lie and say you got it fighting a dragon.”

She outright laughed at that and Inuyasha grinned, thoroughly proud of himself. At least he seemed to have distracted her from any pain she might be feeling.

Then her laughter slowly turned into a groan as she wrapped an arm around her middle and bent over a little, however she was still smiling while shaking her head.

Grimacing, feeling a little guilty for indirectly being the cause of her pain, Inuyasha snatched a gauze pad and the medical tape, hoping she hadn’t fractured any ribs and they were merely bruised.

“You alright?” he asked once she straightened up, her face once again pale with lines of pain bracketing her mouth and eyes.

“Yeah,” she answered a little breathlessly and winced as she rubbed her chest, where the seat belt had dug into her skin when she’d been thrown forward. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he immediately said and reached up to brush her bangs away. “My fault for making you laugh. Can you breathe okay? One to ten, how bad is the pain?”

While he carefully went about applying the bandage to her cut, Kagome closed her eyes and thought about his question, trying to rate the amount of pain she was in. Probably not counting her head and ankle, she ranked it to be about a seven or so.

“Maybe a seven,” she answered honestly, knowing it wouldn’t be a very good idea to lie about that sort of information. “It hurts to breathe a little, but only a dull ache. Probably from when I got thrown forward against the seat belt.”

“Thing probably saved your life,” Inuyasha told her, keeping his eyes focused on the task of securing the bandage. Satisfied, he dropped his gaze back to hers, a slight frown furrowing his brow, and Kagome gasped a little at the intensity in his eyes.

“I’m glad you were wearing it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, and butterflies rioted in her stomach as he brushed his knuckles against her skin, just below the fresh bandage he’d just applied.

Swallowing, Kagome said a little breathlessly, “Me, too,” and she watched with a little thrill as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

Kagome’s breath sped up a little and she licked her lips. Inuyasha’s gaze grew heavy-lidded and the growl that leaked past his lips did very pleasant things to her insides. But just as she was about to say screw it and lean forward, Inuyasha’s expression suddenly cleared, he grimaced, and leaned back, turning his head with a light flush on his cheeks.

Hoping the disappointment didn’t show on her face, Kagome sighed and ducked her head, biting down on her lip. Well, that had been dumb, and she felt a little foolish now. What had she been thinking, leaning in like that and hoping…

“I need to check if you have any fractured ribs,” Inuyasha stated in a voice huskier than he would have liked and he cleared his throat. Though he was still blushing a little, he didn’t look away from her eyes as he continued, “If that’s alright with you, anyway. I’ll understand if you’d rather I didn’t and if that’s the case, I can go get Kaede and she can do it.”

Kagome blinked as she tried to understand what he meant by that, but then realization dawned and her eyes winded a little, her flush deepening at the thought of where his hands would be on her. But Inuyasha was a professional and she trusted him. Besides, Kaede was keeping Souji occupied, and she didn’t want her son to see the extent of the damage on her body.

Clearing her throat, Kagome managed a wan smile and responded, “No, it’s…okay. Go ahead, Inuyasha. I trust you.”

Inuyasha’s eyes widened at that and his ears perked straight up beneath his hat. Something warm and wonderful bloomed in his chest and the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly, those three simple words meaning more to him than she could ever know.

“Thanks,” he murmured as without being told, Kagome lifted her shirt to expose her belly and ribs while still keeping her modestly covered. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Kagome smiled wordlessly and he leveled a quick grin at her before getting to work.

The first thing Kagome noticed was that his hands were warm and calloused, not at all unpleasant against her skin, and she almost missed it when he told her to take a deep breath because she was so focused on his touch. Inuyasha frowned, then withdrew one hand to take his hat off, dropping it to the ground before replacing it on her ribs and repeating his request for her to take a deep breath.

She did, her eyes trained on those adorable ears of his so much like her son’s, only a lovely sterling instead of black, and she winced a little when her chest protested the action. Inuyasha was still frowning as he moved his hands up and down her ribs and she breathed deep once more without being told. Again her sore body protested the movement, but it was bearable.

“Well,” he said after a moment and removed his hands from her, trying very hard not to think about how soft and smooth her skin had been. “I don’t think you have any cracked ribs, but there’s some definite bruising. I can’t tell for sure without an x-ray, and I’m assuming since you weren’t immediately whisked away to one when the ambulance got here that a hospital is out of the question.”

Kagome grimaced, but nodded. “With the way Souji was acting, it would have been a very bad idea. It probably would have just made the situation even worse.”

Inuyasha sighed and nodded as he raked his claws through his bangs. “You’re probably right. I do recommend it, though. Preferably as soon as you’re able.”

Kagome nodded in understanding. “Of course. Just…not tonight.” She smiled a little apologetically and he had to return it with his own lopsided grin.

“Nah,” he murmured, eyes soft. “I get it. As long as you can breathe fine, then there’s no urgency.” He nodded to her shoulder then. “Let me see?”

Wordlessly Kagome tugged the collar of her shirt over enough so the skin of her left shoulder was visible. Her eyes widened because this was the first she’d seen of the extent of the damage. No doubt caused from the seat belt, the wound was an angry, bright red stretch of skin that extended down to the top of her breast where the color changed to an array of yellow and purple. A few places had scabbed over where there had been open scrapes, and all in all in looked very painful. No wonder it had hurt so much when Souji had caught himself on her shoulders.

Inuyasha whistled low, drawing her attention, and she watched as he grimaced and very, very gingerly brushed his thumb over the bruised skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured and Kagome blinked at the unexpected endearment but it seemed as if he hadn’t even realized what he’d called her, his eyes focused on her shoulder. “That thing really did a number on you.”

Kagome sighed and gave a tired, wry smile. “A small price to pay if it means I’m still here.”

His eyes flashed to hers and for the second time Kagome’s breath caught in her throat, her heart stalling, warmth blooming in her stomach, in her chest. Her lips parted and for the second time that gloriously honeyed gaze dropped to her mouth, making the blood rush in her veins as more butterflies took off in her belly. Inuyasha was the one to lean in this time, his hand sliding from her shoulder along her arm, claws gently grazing her skin and feeling her shiver beneath his touch.

He growled, Kagome sighed—and then a familiar and very unwelcome scent reached his nose right then and Inuyasha forced himself to lean away with a short growl of irritation, ears pinned against his head. Kagome blinked at him, confused and unable to hide the flash of hurt in her eyes as she sat back. Inuyasha cursed and opened his mouth to explain—

“Mama!”

Gasping, face dark red, Kagome spun around, and then groaned when her sore body protested, arm going around her middle as she muttered, “S-Sou?”

Sighing, Inuyasha leveled an annoyed glare at the old woman that stood before the open ambulance doors, one eyebrow lifted and a knowing little smirk on her face while Souji clambered up into the vehicle to be with his mother.

Recovering quickly, though with a strained smile, Kagome nonetheless accepted her son’s weight in her lap when he crawled onto it and shoved a juice box under her nose. She smothered him in kisses and hugs before taking the offered beverage and setting it aside for now, not particularly in the mood for some juice despite having asked him to bring her one.

While Inuyasha sighed and studiously ignored his boss still watching him with that damn smirk, he hunted down an ace bandage for her ankle since there wasn’t much that could be done for her side or shoulder except let them heal on their own.

“Thank you,” Kagome said and a quick glance revealed she was addressing Kaede with a grateful smile. “For watching him so Inuyasha can treat my injuries without a fussy toddler to distract him. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble and behaved himself.”

Smiling warmly at the young woman, Kaede shook her head and said, “Oh, not at all, my dear. Your boy was perfectly behaved and he was very pleasant company. I did my best to distract him for as long as I could, but I suppose his concern for mom came back after his third mini bag of animal crackers because he ran over here before I could stop him.”

“Three bags?” Kagome repeated with a little smile and poked her son’s belly. Souji giggled and tried to shove her hand away. “You little piggy.”

“No!” Souji protested through his giggles and shook his head with a grin.

Despite his initial irritation at having been interrupted, Inuyasha had to smile a little at the sight. Kid was cute; he had to admit that, at least to himself.

“Thanks, boss,” Inuyasha said loudly, drawing the old woman’s attention. “I got it from here. Can you take care of the paperwork for me? I still need to wrap Kagome’s ankle and take care of a few things.”

Kaede raised an eyebrow and that damned knowing smile was back, but thankfully she said nothing and simply nodded.

“Of course, Inuyasha,” she said, trying not to laugh. “You can have the next few days off too, since you came tonight despite having just ended your shift.”

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at her. “Sure,” he said slowly, knowing she was up to something, but not sure what.

Her one gray eye twinkled as she smiled at him then turned her gaze toward the mother and child, her expression softening.

“Kagome, was it?” she asked and said woman nodded. “My name is Kaede, dear. While usually I would say it has been a pleasure, I’m sure this night has been anything but for you, hm?”

Kagome sighed and smiled wryly, the exhaustion evident in her eyes and the lines on her pale face. Absently she ran a hand through Souji’s hair, who had settled down and was cuddled up against her chest, the long and eventful night finally catching up with him as a big yawn escaped his mouth.

Kaede’s heart went out to the poor girl and her child and she was glad she had Inuyasha to help her through such a hellish night. He was a good man with a good head on his shoulders; she knew she was in good hands and would be well taken care of.

“Make sure to get plenty of rest, dear,” she told her and Kagome nodded with a grateful smile. “You too, Souji, though it seems you’re already half way there.”

Blinking at the old woman drowsily, Souji grunted then burrowed his head into his mother’s good shoulder, his arms going around her neck with a gusty sigh.

Kaede chuckled and with one last glance at the clearly impatient half-demon that was still pegging her with an annoyed glare, she turned and headed back to wrap things up with the police. Kagome and Souji were in good hands; she wasn’t worried.

Shaking his head and grumbling under his breath, Inuyasha turned toward Kagome and discovered that Souji had more or less passed out in her lap, his breaths deep and even. Kagome was smiling gently down at him, all the love in her eyes as she kissed his head and rocked him slowly back and forth, stroking his hair and back like a loving mother would to her child.

Inuyasha’s heart melted and he suddenly wanted very, very badly to be a part of their cozy little duo.

But then reality slammed into him hard and he ducked his head to hide his grimace, ears flattening against his head as he fiddled with the rolled up ace bandage in his hand. What the hell was wrong with him—she’d literally just met him an hour prior, and he doubted dating was anywhere close on her mind on such on a shitty night. Plus, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t even thought of this before, making him inwardly curse himself for his earlier attempt to kiss her, there was also the very real possibility that she was unavailable. Hell, she had a fucking kid; the father could be waiting at home for her, though if that was the case he wasn’t sure why the guy wasn’t here by now. Wouldn’t she have contacted him?

Beneath his hat, his ears perked just a little. Then again, she hadn’t mentioned anything about the kid’s old man, and maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he could have sworn she’d leaned in earlier like she wanted to kiss him before he foolishly pulled away, so…maybe not?

He flicked a hopeful glance at mother and child, took in the tiny ears on top of Souji’s head, and the hopes promptly came crashing back down. Souji was a half-demon, which meant the father was a full demon.

Why go for half when she could have full.

Inuyasha bit back a groan and dragged a hand down his face. Dammit, he was reading too far into this. She was his patient, for god’s sake, he had no right to—

“Inuyasha?”

Startled out of his thoughts by the soft inquisitive voice, Inuyasha jerked his head up and his gaze collided with dark, beautiful depths filled with concern, delicate eyebrows dipped down into a small frown.

“Hey,” she said, offering a little smile. “Are you okay? I lost you for a second there.”

Inuyasha blinked at her choice of words and the instinctive response of “You’ll never lose me, Kagome” was right on the tip of his tongue but then he remembered himself and shook his head. Fucking hell.

“Yeah, uh, no,” he said, frowning at his own words and tried again. “I’m fine, Kagome. Sorry. Didn’t mean to space out on ya.”

Her smile broadened. “No need to be sorry. It’s been a weird night, huh?” She chuckled a little and Inuyasha couldn’t help but level a crooked grin at her.

“Yeah,” he agreed then held up the forgotten ace bandage in his hand. “Which ankle is bothering you? I’ll check it out and wrap up so you can finally call it a night and head home.”

“That sounds heavenly,” Kagome said with a sigh and lifted her right foot. “This one. Please tell me it’s not broken.”

Inuyasha only tossed her a wry grin before very carefully pulling off her slip-on shoe and cradling her bare foot in his hands. She winced a little when he turned it over as he inspected and she shook her head at his muttered apologies.

“Can you pin point the pain for me?” he asked and leaned forward to tenderly touch her fingertips to the soft part of her ankle, just a little above the bone. There was some mild swelling and she could still flex her ankle slightly, but not without pain.

“You’re in luck,” Inuyasha said after a minute and shifted forward to prop her foot on his knee while he prepared to wrap bandage around it. “Looks like it’s just a mild sprain, but you should still keep your weight off of it as much as you can.”

Kagome laughed dryly and at his inquisitive look, she raised her brows and remarked, “It’s hard to stay off your feet when you’re a single mother with a hyper-active two-year-old.”

Despite himself Inuyasha felt the hope bloom warm and wonderful in his chest again and he really hoped the excitement didn’t show on his face. She was single. She was single. The dad wasn’t in the picture, fuck yes!

Wow, you fucking idiot, can you be any more insensitive? To hide the shameful blush that colored his face, Inuyasha ducked his head and focused on wrapping her ankle. For all he knew, something tragic could have happened and she might still be recovering. Jumping to conclusions would not only be foolish, but inconsiderate to her as well, and he needed to stay in her good graces if he ever wanted to have a chance with her.

And he wanted. God, did he ever.

“Is there anyone that would be willing to stay with you for a while? Friends? Family?” Inuyasha only flicked her a brief glance before turning his gaze back to his task, not wanting to make the wrap too tight or uncomfortable.

Kagome wrinkled her nose and adjusted Souji in her arms, wincing when her shoulder protested the movement.

“Mama and Gramps are both retired and don’t have the energy to chase after a toddler like they used to, and my brother is away at college. And the only friend I really have is…well, he’s not really…a good candidate for babysitting.”

Inuyasha paused to quirk a brow up at her, a wordless inquiry.

Kagome sighed and her voice was dry. “Let’s just say that Miroku is more interested in the baby making process than actually raising one.”

The silver-haired medic snorted and continued his work, passing under the arch of her foot and around her ankle one last time before gently securing the end via the strong Velcro attached to it.

“How’s that?” he asked, sitting back and inspecting his handiwork. “Not too tight?”

Flexing her foot a bit, Kagome smiled and nodded in approval. “Feels perfect. You’re really good at that; I remember whenever I hurt my ankle when I still lived at home Mama always made it too tight or too loose so I had to fix it myself.”

Inuyasha shrugged off the compliment, though inwardly his ego was inflating to twice its normal size.

“It’s my job,” he remarked and started putting everything back where he’d found it. “Be a pretty shitty EMT if I couldn’t do something I was specifically trained for.”

A soft laugh reached his ears. “I suppose you’re right.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, and since the driver for this damn thing was still nowhere in sight, Inuyasha decided to give voice to a curiosity that refused to leave him alone and really, really hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

“So, uh,” he began, frowning down at the plastic bin of bandages in his hand as he tried to think of how to phrase it without sounding like an opportunistic asshole. He slid the bin back home to its proper place in one of the cabinets and tried to make himself look busy, avoiding her curious gaze.

“Pup’s father. Is he, uh, is he still around? Why isn’t he here?”

As soon as the words left his mouth Inuyasha wanted to slam his head against the nearest hard surface. Smooth, asshole. Real smooth.

Too busy beating himself up, he missed the little smile that curled Kagome’s mouth as she watched him. Honestly she’d been waiting for him to ask that question. She’d purposely hinted earlier that she was unattached by saying she was a single mother and he hadn’t seemed to really take the bait, so she was glad he took the initiative this time and asked. She’d thought about dropping another hint, but didn’t want to seem too desperate.

“Do you remember how Souji was acting earlier?” she asked by way of reply. “Growling, sort of aggressive and wouldn’t let anyone come near me?”

Not expecting that, Inuyasha turned toward her, the confusion evident on his face. But then he frowned and nodded, prompting Kagome to continue.

“Last year his father and I got into a screaming match that got out of hand and he punched me in the face. Souji saw it happen. I left him and ever since that day Souji has been extremely protective of me and he’s very distrustful of strangers, especially men.”

She looked down at the slumbering boy in her arms and her expression softened, her smile turning sad as she kissed his little brow.

“My fierce little warrior,” Kagome murmured, smoothing back his hair before glancing back at the handsome medic. Inuyasha was frowning at her but she could see the concern in his eyes with a hint of anger simmering just beneath the surface and she had to smile. He was angry because of what had happened to her, even though it had happened a year ago, and she thought that was incredibly sweet.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Inuyasha said, his voice a low rumble and his gaze intense, sincere as he stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry Souji has such a shitty sperm donor, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to deck the son of a bitch myself for hitting you. Women are meant to be protected. Cherished…loved. Never hurt.”

Kagome didn’t know what to say to that so she said nothing, eyes locked on his and heart in her throat.

Another moment of silence passed as the two of them simply gazed at one another, the air between them charged, heavy with something both of them didn’t quite understand, but then Inuyasha sighed and racked a hand through his hair, shaking his head. Kagome blushed and cleared her throat, dropping her gaze to watch her son’s face, relaxed in sleep.

“So you’re telling me a full demon punched you in the face and he didn’t knock you the fuck out?” Inuyasha quite tactlessly asked, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

“I saw it coming and managed to dodge at the last second so he only glanced my cheek and temple,” Kagome readily answered, grateful for the subject change if only to calm the rabid beating of her heart. “I smacked my head against the kitchen counter as I went down and I was dizzy for a few minutes, but it passed and I was able to grab Sou and get the hell out of there. I haven’t seen him since.”

“So you have full custody,” Inuyasha assumed.

Kagome nodded and heaved another sigh. “Yes. But even if I didn’t and it was shared, I still wouldn’t see hide nor hair of him.”

Inuyasha’s eyebrows rose at that. “You mean the asshole has no interest in his own son?”

Kagome closed her eyes and the smile that curled her lips was so incredibly sad Inuyasha had to fight against the urge to take her into his arms.

“Souji is the reason why we were arguing that day,” she explained, eyes fluttering open to regard her baby boy the way only a loving mother ever could. “When I told Kouga that I was pregnant, he told me to get rid of it. He didn’t want a half-breed to be related to him in any way, shape, or form, regardless if it was his own offspring or not. I didn’t, of course, and our relationship deteriorated after that. I know I should have left him that day, but part of me hoped…”

She trailed off with a sigh and idly ran a hand through Souji’s dark hair. The toddler stirred slightly and grunted softly in his sleep, but settled down soon after, going still with a quiet sigh. Kagome kissed his head, so overcome with love for her brave, beautiful little boy.

“At the risk of sounding completely selfish and maybe even a bit like an asshole,” Inuyasha began, drawing Kagome’s gaze back to him and he stubbornly refused to look away despite his face heating.

“I’m…sorta glad it happened. I mean not that he punched you of course, I would never—because you’re here now and—ah, fuck.”

Groaning, Inuyasha dropped his head in his hands and willed himself to just fucking turn into a ghost so he could phase into the goddamn ground or some shit but then the sound of soft laughter reached his ears and he dared at a glance at his beautiful patient. Judging by the hand over her mouth, she’d tried to stifle her mirth and failed but even if she’d succeeded, the amusement in her eyes would have tipped him off easily and despite himself Inuyasha felt himself grinning in return.

“Me, too,” Kagome whispered, lowering her hand to reveal a soft, beautiful smile and fuck, what he would give to have her look at him like that all the damn time.

Inuyasha opened his mouth to say something, anything as long as she’d keep looking at him like that, but then she suddenly yawned and he remembered where they were. She blinked and then gave a sheepish smile and shrugged.

Chuckling, Inuyasha pulled out his phone and checked the time. “Two AM,” he supplied and tucked it back in his pocket. “Things are wrapping up here anyway, so how about we call it a night and get you two home?”

The thought of her bed was nearly enough to make her weep. “That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all night,” Kagome replied and shifted Souji in her arms again. Her shoulder twinged in protest and she hissed through her teeth.

“Um, can you do me a favor?”

Inuyasha crossed his arms and cocked a brow at her, waiting.

“Could you get his car seat for me, please? My shoulder is starting to really hurt for holding him for so long.” She tossed him a pleading smile and he was helpless but to obey.

He deliberated for only a second, casting a brief glance at the child in her arms before surprising her by saying, “I’ll do it.”

She blinked. “What?”

Shrugging, though not without a slight flush on his cheeks, Inuyasha turned his gaze away and repeated, “I’ll put him in it. I mean if you don’t mind. It’ll save you from having to lift your arm if it’s hurting you that much.”

Both of her brows lifted into her bangs and she tilted her head. “Do you know how?”

Inuyasha frowned and looked offended.

Immediately Kagome winced and shook her head, a flush darkening her face. 

“Sorry, that was rude,” she murmured and received a grunt in response. “I was just surprised, is all. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”

He grumbled but nodded and Kagome somehow knew he wasn’t really upset over it. Still, she leveled him with an apologetic smile and adjusted Souji in her arms to make the transfer easier.

“Please,” she entreated softly and the wind was abruptly blown right out of his sails.

Relaxing, Inuyasha wordlessly bent down to carefully take the slumbering child from her arms and cradle him in his own. Souji didn’t stir and Kagome watched as the handsome medic who had taken such good care of them tonight stepped off the ambulance and crossed the scant distance to the car seat sitting on the ground. The sight of him slowly settling her baby boy in and checking to make sure everything was secure warmed her heart in ways she hadn’t felt for over two years now. It made her think that maybe, just maybe…that missing piece of her heart, the part that Kouga had viciously destroyed with his actions and carelessness of his own son, could be replaced with a new, much stronger piece to make it whole again.

And that piece had golden eyes, a fanged grin, and two adorable silver dog ears so much like her little Souji’s.

Kagome was just thinking that maybe this night wasn’t as bad as she thought it was when Inuyasha returned and gingerly set her son’s car seat with sleeping toddler cradled within on the ambulance floor before hopping back up into it.

With a rumbled word of warning, he slipped his hands beneath her and easily lifted her up into his arms, only to hop back to the ground a minute later and set her beside her son.

“Sit tight,” he said and before he could stop himself he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll bring my truck around since I can’t carry you both at the same time with him in that thing.”

“You’re gonna take me home?” Kagome questioned, surprised, but undoubtedly pleased.

He leveled her with a look and quipped, “You really think I was gonna make you walk home with a bum ankle and a toddler?”

Kagome offered him a sheepish smile. Neither of them pointed out that she could just catch a ride with one of the cops still hanging around for whatever reason.

Rolling his eyes, Inuyasha shook his head and walked away, grumbling under his breath about silly wenches and dumb questions, Kagome’s soft laugher following after him.

Fifteen minutes later Inuyasha had his two patients bundled into his truck with the still snoozing Souji secured in the backseat of the crew cab and Kagome beside him in the passenger’s seat. Despite it being a rather mild night, she was wearing his leather jacket that had been lying on the floor in the back, the EMT claiming that he hadn’t wanted her to get sick on top of everything else she’d endured tonight. Kagome had simply smiled and tugged the garment closer against her and Inuyasha had delighted in the fetching shade of scarlet that colored her cheeks.

The ride to Kagome’s apartment was spent in comfortable silence but that had more to do with Kagome being dog-tired than not having the need to fill the quiet with soft chatter. Inuyasha let her doze with her head resting against the widow and he was content to steal brief glances at her during the short commute. Souji hadn’t stirred once strapped into the back and the half-demon doubted the pup would wake any time before 7 am, possibly later since he’d had a long night.

Parking in front of the address Kagome had given him, Inuyasha put his truck in park then cut the engine before turning his attention to his lovely passenger. She hadn’t stirred, and he hated to wake her up, but he needed to get them both inside so they could get some proper rest.

“Kagome,” he murmured and reached over to gently nudge her awake. “We’re here. Kagome?”

She murmured and frowned, but otherwise ignored him and he chuckled. Shaking his head, he unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted his hand to tenderly cup her cheek, sweeping his thumb across the softness of her skin.

“C’mon, baby,” he rumbled and was gratified to see caramel eyes flutter open to blink drowsily at him. “Let’s get you and Sou inside so you can get some sleep in a real bed. Doubt you’d be very comfortable out here all night.”

Blinking once more before wrinkling her nose in the most adorable way, Kagome offered a small, sleepy smile and gave a slight nod. She yawned and Inuyasha hopped out to retrieve Souji still passed out in his car seat. The older half-demon was a little surprised the pup didn’t wake even once as he carefully scooped him up into his arms, figuring he’d just come back for the car seat after he’d settle the two of them inside. Instead Souji merely sighed, snuggled against his chest, and Inuyasha’s heart about damn near exploded with affection for the kid.

It was astounding, and maybe a little frightening, how badly he wanted these two in his life, and he hoped to god that Kagome would allow him to see them again after tonight.

Keeping the sleeping toddler secured against him with one arm, Inuyasha helped Kagome down with his other arm tight around her waist and he effortlessly bore most of her weight as he led them down the short sidewalk to her front door. He didn’t like how she’d left her door unlocked, but after her explanation of how she’d planned on coming right back after a short drive to get Souji to sleep, he accepted it with a soft grunt and more or less carried the both of them inside her cozy little apartment.

Reluctantly he released Kagome and she took her son from his arms before tossing him a quick smile and turning to no doubt put him to bed. Inuyasha watched her go, frowning at her limp, but forced himself to remain where he was. She needed to stay off of her ankle for it to get better, but he couldn’t very well tuck in her son for her. While he wouldn’t have minded, he didn’t want to impose, and they had just met, after all.

He also didn’t like the thought of her staying here alone with no one around to help and he thought about asking her if it was alright for him to stay, but again he didn’t want to be weird or make her uncomfortable. They were practically strangers and despite the strangely overpowering need to care for and protect the both of them, he didn’t want her to think he had an ulterior motive or the paramedic side of him wanted to ensure she would be alright.

No, it went much deeper than that. But he didn’t want to scare her or freak her out, so he’d force himself to back off unless she outright told him she wanted him around. Or hell, he’d even take a very obvious hint that was impossible to ignore. He didn’t want this to be the last time he saw her, or the kid, and he desperately hoped the feeling was mutual.

Kagome came limping back down the hallway after closing Souji’s door most of the way and instantly Inuyasha diverted all of his attention on her. She looked utterly drained as she gimped her way over to him, however she still managed to muster up a smile for him and his heart ached.

Inuyasha closed the remaining distance between them and wordlessly scooped her back up into his arms. Kagome’s exhaustion was evident in the way she didn’t even gasp, merely releasing a quiet sigh as he strode down the hallway and followed his nose to Kagome’s bedroom. He set her down on the bed and knelt before her so he could carefully remove her shoes for her. He checked her bandage while he was at it, making sure it was good and secure before resting his hands on her knees and lifting his gaze to hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he knew it wasn’t just for taking off her shoes.

“I wish I could do more,” he confessed, eyebrows dipping into a slight frown. “I don’t like the thought of you being here by yourself. Are you sure there’s nobody you can call? I’m sure even your friend Miroku wouldn’t mind helping out if you told him what happened.”

Kagome stared at him, warmth blossoming in her chest. Somebody must be really looking out for her up there to introduce her to such an amazing, caring man like Inuyasha. Granted, she could have definitely done without the circumstances in which they met, but, well…beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

“It’s sweet of you to worry,” Kagome began, lifting a hand to cup his cheek and she smiled when he unabashedly leaned into her touch. “But I promise I’ll be okay. Souji will no doubt crawl into bed with me sometime during the night and wake me up when he’s hungry. After he eats something he’ll probably go back to sleep and I’ll be able to stay off my ankle, if not catch a little more shuteye myself.”

Inuyasha still didn’t look happy, but he finally conceded with a sigh and a nod. “Can I at least leave my number with you so you can text me if you need help? Just for my own peace of mind. Please.”

Boldly he reached up, dragged his claws against the soft skin of her jaw and caught a strand of ebony hair between his fingers. He kept his gaze on hers as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek and he heard the way the breath hitched in her throat. Inuyasha fought back a grin and tenderly tucked the lock of dark silk behind her ear.

Biting her lip, Kagome didn’t give herself time to think as she dropped her hand to grab the lapel of his uniform shirt, fingers curling into the fabric to keep him close. Inuyasha didn’t move, didn’t even dare to breathe as she smiled and peered at him from beneath twin fans of midnight lashes.

“You could,” she murmured, her smile widening just a bit. “Or…you could stop by tomorrow morning and we could maybe talk over coffee and pancakes. If you want.”

Abruptly the breath left Inuyasha’s lungs in a relieved whoosh of air and he nodded, eyes going hooded as he slipped his hand into her hair.

“Yeah,” he said, voice husky. “I want.”

“Yeah?” Kagome repeated, eyes bright, lips curving up even further in obvious delight.

Inuyasha nodded again, gaze fastened to her mouth, and that time Kagome sighed. Her hand tightened on his shirt, refusing to let go, or maybe she was unable to. She couldn’t tell, not with the way Inuyasha was staring at her. Or more accurately her mouth and unconsciously she swallowed, lips parting on a stuttered breath.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Alright. Good.”

“Good.”

They stared at each other, saying nothing, her hand gripping his shirt, his in her hair, and Inuyasha was fighting desperately to keep himself where he was, to not give in no matter how bad he wanted to. He couldn’t take advantage of her like that, he couldn’t risk destroying the trust she had so graciously given him—

She breathed his name, the softest of whispers falling from her lips, and Inuyasha’s control shattered.

“Aw, to hell with it,” he muttered right before surging up and claiming her mouth in the passionate kiss he’d been wanting to give her all damned night.

Immediately Kagome responded, both hands gripping his shirt now as Inuyasha braced his knee on the bed beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling as he leaned over her. He nipped her lips and she parted them with a gasp that turned into a whimper as he deepened the kiss, greedy for her taste. Despite the hunger ravaging in his gut, however, he kept his kiss gentle, his mouth moving over hers in a hot, sensual dance that she eagerly reciprocated with flicks of her tongue and gentle nips.

He growled and with his hand cupping the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, Inuyasha pulled back only to press a series of hot, lingering kisses to her mouth but it wasn’t long before he was unable to keep himself from going in for a much longer, deeper taste once more. Her breathy laugh turned into a moan and he would have smirked in arrogant pride had he had the higher brain function to do so.

Several heated seconds later, Inuyasha finally pulled back to allow them both to breathe and he rested his forehead against her own as they panted for breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Inuyasha admitted in a low rumble that sent pleasant tingles down Kagome’s spine.

“Funny,” she whispered. “I’ve been wanting you to do that all night, too.”

He chuckled and couldn’t help but to brush one last lingering kiss across her smiling lips.

“Get some sleep,” he entreated against her lips. “And I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” she sighed and gave him a sleepy, but genuine smile. “Good night, Inuyasha. Thank you for…everything.”

Inuyasha smiled at her and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Anytime,” he husked. “Good night, baby. Sleep well.”

He helped her get settled into bed and wasn’t surprised that she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow. Inuyasha sighed, kissed her brow one more time, and then quietly stole out of her bedroom to let her sleep. Before he even thought about what he was doing, and almost like it was second nature, he checked on Souji who was still fast sleep in his little toddler bed before making sure all the lights were off and ensuring her door was locked when he finally left a few minutes later.

Just as she’d predicted, Kagome woke up just a little after 7 am to the feeling little hands on her face. She opened bleary eyes to find her son hovering over her, wee hands on her cheeks and blinking owlishly down at her. The biggest, sunniest grin split his cherubic face when he saw that she was finally awake and he patted her cheeks with a happiness only a child could have after only going to sleep a few hours before and getting up at what the fraaaaack o’clock in the morning.

Tiny fingers grabbed her nose and Kagome sighed even as a tired smile lifted the corners of her lips.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Kagome murmured and then released a yawn. “It’s too early for your shenanigans, Sou.”

“Mama,” Souji said by way of reply as his mother levered herself upright with a groan. God, she hurt everywhere. Her entire body was sore, not just her torso and shoulder. Not surprising, considering what she’d went through last night, but still.

Ow.

With a soft grunt, Kagome very, very slowly wriggled around until she managed to get her feet on the floor, her sore body protesting every movement. Obviously any pain meds she’d taken last night had worn off by now and her ankle throbbed in protest when she put a little weight on it. Kagome winced and dragged a hand down her face. God, today was going to suck.

But at least she had something to look forward to, Kagome mused to herself, a little smile lighting her face as she remembered they were going to have a visitor that morning. Which meant she needed to get her ass in gear, take a much-needed shower, and feed her hungry toddler.

Souji wedged himself between her knees and stared up at her with worried blue eyes.

“Hurt?” he asked and very gently patted her knee as if the barest touch would cause crippling pain.

Kagome sighed and smiled for her little boy, running a hand through his dark hair and tweaking his ears.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I’ll be fine, baby. It’s only a little hurt”—lie—“and I’ll feel better once I take a nice hot shower and get some food in our tummies.” She poked his belly and was relieved to see the smile bloom across his face.

“Puffs,” he said and darted for the kitchen.

“Puffs it is,” Kagome murmured and taking a deep breath, she braced her hands on the mattress and slowly pushed herself to her feet. There was pain, but it was tolerable, and she tried to keep as little weight on her bad ankle as she could as she hobbled her way to the kitchen to pour her two-year-old a bowl of Cocoa Puffs cereal.

Even though she wanted nothing more than to sleep all day to let her weary, banged up body recover, being a single mother made that very tempting option unavailable So, despite being slow and muttering curses under her breath every few minutes, Kagome provided her boy with his coveted diabetes-on-a-bowl disguised as sugary chocolate cereal and then went about making herself a cup of much-needed coffee.

After two cups and by the time Souji had finished his second bowl, Kagome was starting to feel human again and since her son had wandered off into the living room to watch cartoons, Kagome seized this chance to take a shower. She knew Souji would pass out soon after on the couch so she wouldn’t have to worry about him for a few hours, or at least until Inuyasha arrived.

The thought of the handsome medical technician brought a flush to Kagome’s cheeks and warmth to flood her entire body. She couldn’t wait to see him again and she wondered if he was as excited about it as she. She could only hope, and the giggle that bubbled up in her throat as she hobbled into the bathroom was girlish and completely involuntary.

Half an hour later Kagome was showered, dressed, and feeling much more like herself, if not still a little tired, but she supposed that was to be expected. The pain meds she’d taken with her coffee had dulled the pain in her ankle, side, and shoulder, and she was grateful because the pain would make whipping up some breakfast much more difficult.

Unsurprisingly Souji was passed out cold in the most ridiculous position on the couch while Paw Patrol played on the television and Kagome left him be to start breakfast. She had no idea when Inuyasha would show up and she wanted to have something made up by then.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get very far before her phone started ringing and Kagome whipped her head around to stare at the device. It was still on the counter where she’d left it last night before venturing out for a drive with Sou and she sighed because she had an idea as to who it could be. And lo and behold, when she picked it up, “Mama” flashed across the screen.

Kagome grimaced, braced herself, and answered.

The conversation with her mother went as expected. Evidently someone from the accident scene last night had captured a brief video snippet of Inuyasha performing his little magic show for Souji and her mother had seen it circulating on social media. Asako explained that she recognized her own daughter and grandson in the video and Kagome managed to calm her down enough to enlighten the older woman what had happened. Several times she had to assure her mother that she and Souji were both fine and probably sometime later that day they were both going to go to the hospital to get an official checkup and an x-ray for Kagome’s ankle and ribs.

Of course, her mother being her mother, wanted to come over and help with Souji while Kagome focused on recovering, but the younger woman managed to convince her that she didn’t need to make the drive just for a likely sprained ankle. She might have put in the little white lie that Miroku would be stopping by later and it was enough to pacify Asako into agreeing.

It wasn’t really a surprise that seconds after hanging up with her mother, her phone beeped with a text message from Miroku but she really didn’t have the energy to put up with him right now so she ignored it and went about preparing breakfast.

In hindsight, she really should have replied to that message.

It was about a quarter after nine when the doorbell rang and instantly butterflies took off in Kagome’s belly from a combination of nerves and excited anticipation. Still, though, it was impossible to hold back the brilliant smile that spread across her flour-dusted face as she shuffled as fast as she could to the front door, heart pounding in her chest as she quickly unlocked it and whipped it open. God, but it was embarrassing how much she’d missed him—

“What the hell are you doing here?” Kagome asked, her radiant expression instantly dropping to one of horror.

Kouga didn’t answer and instantly zeroed in on the bandage on her forehead, blue eyes narrowing as a sense of unease roiled in his gut. So the stupid human hadn’t been lying, then. Least he was good for something other than grabbing ass.

“I don’t want you here,” Kagome hissed after recovering from the shock of seeing her ex out of nowhere. “Leave. Now.”

Stone-faced, she grabbed the door and started to close it in his face, but Kouga wedged his foot into the threshold and prevented it. Kagome glowered at him and tired again, but Kouga pushed his way inside, forcing her to stumble backward and nearly crumple to the floor as her ankle was forced to bear her weight. She gasped as pain ricocheted up her entire leg and she would have fallen backward had it not been for her ex grabbing her wrist and hauling her back up.

“What the fuck, Kagome,” Kouga growled and darted his gaze down to her feet, snarling when she saw she was favoring her right one. “Were you really in a goddamn accident last night and didn’t fucking tell me?”

Regaining her bearings and her balance, Kagome yanked her wrist out of his grip and stumbled backward with a scowl, dark eyes flashing with a mixture of pain and anger.

“Why the hell would I tell you anything?” she snapped, flicking her gaze toward the living room and hoping like hell Souji would remain asleep. “We’re not together anymore, Kouga, or don’t you remember when you punched me in the face?”

Crossing her arms, Kagome simply glared at him, giving up on getting him to leave because she knew in her current state there was shit all she could do. Even if she were at peak physical health, he was still ten times stronger than she and he never let her forget it, either.

To her surprise, Kouga actually looked regretful as he winced and thrust a hand through his bangs. His hair was up in its usual ponytail, but it looked as if he’d dressed in haste, donned in a simple t-shirt and loose sweatpants he wore when jogging. Oh please; don’t tell her he was actually worried?

“C’mon, Kagome, you know I hate it when you bring that up,” he muttered, having the audacity to actually look embarrassed. “I said I was sorry and it’ll never happen again. It’s been a year, can’t we just forget about it and—”

“You and I both know it’s far more than just a punch to the face, Kouga,” Kagome murmured, face tight with pain and old fury that bubbled up to the surface at his sudden reappearance. How the hell had he even found out, anyway? As far as she knew he wasn’t on social media and her mother would never reach out to him after what happened last year.

Kouga tensed and clenched his jaw, cobalt eyes going hard and cold as steel. Evidently his opinion hadn’t changed about half-demon’s and the old scar he’d left on her heart ached.

Deciding now wasn't the time or place to revisit that particular topic, Kagome sighed roughly and leveled him with a suspicious glare.

“How did you even find out, anyway? I know my mother didn’t tell you.” She arched an expectant brow.

Kouga snorted. “Of course she didn’t,” he confirmed. “It was that perverted friend of yours, Miro-whatever. At least he had the sense to—”

Tuning out the rest of whatever he was going on about, Kagome snapped her gaze around to land on her discarded phone still lying on the counter and the color drained from her face when realization dawned. Oooh, that complete and utter moron! That asshole! She was going to throttle him when she saw him next!

“Ooooh, I’ll kill him,” she hissed, glaring with such vehemence at her phone it was a wonder it didn’t burst into flames right there on her counter.

“—good thing he did because you can’t be staying here alone in your condition, you could fall and hurt yourself even worse—”

“Shut up, Kouga,” Kagome cut him off and the wolf-demon was so startled by her cold tone he actually did. “I have no idea why Miroku would ever contact you because it’s literally none of your business what happens to me or Souji because we are no longer together. I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I liked it that way, so now I want you to leave before my son wakes up and sees you. We’ve both had a very long night and he does not need the stress of your presence after what he went through last night. So get out. I’ll be talking with Miroku to make sure he never contacts you again.”

Arms tight across her chest, dark eyes stern and lips in a flat, thin line, Kagome stared him down and didn’t even flinch at the low growl her ex-boyfriend emitted.

“Like hell I’m leaving here without you,” Kouga growled, his eyes twin pools of blue fire as he stalked forward and reached for her arm. “I don’t care what you say, you can’t be alone—”

“So you’re the asshole sperm donor Kagome told me about, huh.”

While Kouga stiffened and slowly turned around with a dark scowl on his face, relief swept through Kagome and the smile that split her face was grateful and positively radiant.

“Inuyasha,” she breathed and Kouga sneered, crossing his arms as he took in the unwanted newcomer.

Leaning against the door jamb, a paper bag tucked under his arm and holding a cardboard drink holder with two coffees in it, Inuyasha looked unimpressed as he returned the once over before shifting his gaze to the woman behind the wolf. Kagome looked infinitely glad to see him, relief swimming in those dark eyes of hers, and his expression softened. Damn, he’d missed her.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Inuyasha ignored the question and kept his gaze on Kagome.

“You alright?” The sperm donor was blocking most of his view, but from what he could tell she seemed alright. His nose told him Souji was napping in the living room and he was glad for that. From what Kagome had told him, the pup didn’t need to see his father here and have a repeat of what happened last night. Poor kid already went through hell.

“I’m fine,” she assured him and stepped around her ex to take the bag and drinks from him. “I was in the middle of making breakfast, but now I suppose I don’t have to. Smells absolutely divine.”

The most delicious smell of muffins and honeybuns were coming from the paper bag and her stomach growled in agreement.

“I thought about taking you two out for breakfast,” he admitted a little sheepishly with a shrug. “But then figured you wouldn’t really wanna go anywhere considering what happened.” He paused. “How you feeling, by the way?”

Shuffling over to the bar counter and completely ignoring the increasingly pissed off wolf-demon, Kagome deposited their breakfast onto the surface and went about collecting some plates.

“Sore, obviously,” she told him. “But it’s tolerable. It still hurts to walk on my ankle, and I had to take the bandage off so I could shower, so if you wouldn’t mind wrapping it again—”

“I asked you a question, asshole,” Kouga interrupted their pleasant little conversation, stepping up and inserting himself right in front of the half-breed’s vision so he was forced to look at him. “Who are you and how do you know Kagome?”

Immediately Inuyasha’s expression changed from warm pleasantness to cold and flinty as he finally looked at the fucker in front of him that had so rudely interrupted his conversation with Kagome. The wolf was attempting to pull off a pathetic intimidating act by snarling in his face and baring his fangs while glaring balefully at him, a steady growl leaking past his clenched teeth.

Inuyasha stared at him for a beat before saying curtly, “I don’t think that’s any of your business, wolfshit. Matter of fact, you don’t have any business being here so why don’t you do us a favor and get lost because Kagome clearly doesn’t want you here, and you know what, neither do I. Your stench is already giving me a headache. There’s the door. I hope it hits you on your way out.”

With that, the half-demon roughly shoved his way past the other male and made his way over to Kagome who had silently watched the exchanged with a worried frown.

Kouga was having none of that, though, and spun around with a snarl to reach out and dig his claws into the mongrel’s shoulder.

“Listen asshole, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are—”

Inuyasha reacted so fast his movements were a blur. He spun around and in the same movement threw his arm above Kouga’s head before jerking it down hard against his back to dislodge the wolf’s grip on his shoulder. Kouga grunted but could do nothing as the next second the half-demon forced his body to turn and then with a swift kick, swept his feet out from under him. He landed on the floor with a grunt and a scowling half-demon glaring down at him.

“I know where very major artery is on your pathetic, weak little body, wolfshit,” Inuyasha growled and narrowed his eyes in lethal warning. “Touch me or her again and my claws just might slip. Comprende?”

While Kouga grumbled and glowered up at him as he pushed himself to his feet, behind him Kagome was feeling quite flushed at having witnessed the hanyou display a very effective self-defense skill and she had to resist the urge to fan herself.

Good lord, but why had that been so hot? Not to mention that threat if he touched her again.

God, Kagome mused, pressing a hand over her wildly beating heart. Take me now.

Scoffing in the face of the half-breed’s anger and threat, Kouga rolled his shoulders and leveled another scowl at him. If he thought he was just going to—

“Shit.”

Inuyasha’s ear flicked behind him at the muttered curse and a familiar scent told him the reason of Kagome’s sudden apprehension. Instantly schooling his expression, he shifted amber eyes toward the living room and found sleepy blue eyes blinking at the three adults. His black hair was a mess and he’d managed to kick off his pants sometime during his nap.

“Hey, bud,” Inuyasha greeted the toddler with a grin, not even sparing the sperm donor another glance. “Remember me?” He wiggled his clawed fingers and raised his eyebrows.

Souji, sleepy mind still trying to register what he was seeing, blinked and settled his gaze on the older male. He sniffed a few times, tilted his head, and wrinkled his nose.

“Magic man,” he said and gave a toothy grin.

Inuyasha’s face softened. “That’s right,” he affirmed. “The magic man. You hungry? I got some tasty muffins and honeybuns that I’m sure you’d like.”

“He shouldn’t be,” Kagome opined, hobbling over to stand beside him and beckoning her son over with a smile and a wave. “He had two bowls of Cocoa Puffs before his nap.”

“Lucky,” Inuyasha commented with another grin. “My mom only lets me have one bowl.”

Kagome snorted a laugh and covered her mouth, but Souji was too busy staring at Kouga to react. His ears were pinned, his little face was scrunched up and Inuyasha couldn’t tell if it was because he was scared or agitated at his father’s unwanted presence.

Shit. Acting fast, and without thinking twice, Inuyasha crossed the distance between them and abruptly scooped the kid up into his arms. Surprisingly, and thankfully, Souji let the older half-demon carry him and fisted a tiny hand in his shirt as Inuyasha crossed back over to Kagome, who was smiling and had suspiciously bright eyes.

“Chock?” Souji asked and it took him a minute to figure out what he was requesting.

“I’m pretty sure I got chocolate muffin for you, champ,” he said and watched the kid’s face light up in delight. It was true; he did have a chocolate muffin that he’d gotten for himself, but he’d give it to Souji in a heartbeat if that’s what he wanted.

Tired of being ignored, Kouga growled and stalked forward again, refusing to let this mutt get the upper hand here. If anyone should leave, it should be the half-breed, dammit!

“Goddammit, I’m not done—”

“Hey Souji,” Inuyasha interrupted the wolf’s tirade loudly and big blue eyes stared up at him questioningly. “Wanna see a magic trick?”

The tot’s eyes widened and he nodded, remembering the magic he’d showed last night with the red light and his fingers. There was more?!

Wordlessly Inuyasha handed the kid over to his mother and at Kagome’s puzzled frown, he merely grinned and winked before spinning around to face the red-faced wolf-demon. Grabbing a pencil that he assumed Kagome used when making grocery lists, he promptly stabbed the pointed end into the counter with enough force to make it stand upright and he mentally apologized to Kagome for ruining the surface. Kouga paid it no mind and stormed forward, growling low while Inuyasha casually rounded the counter to meet him head on.

“I’m gonna make this pencil disappear,” he announced jovially just as Kouga reached him and with both Kagome and Souji’s wide-eyed gaze on him, Inuyasha promptly grabbed Kouga by the back of the head and slammed his face down hard onto the counter.

Kouga dropped to the floor with a groan as Inuyasha threw his hands up, gesturing to the counter now sans pencil.

“Ta da! It’s gone,” he announced and while Souji squealed in absolute delight and clapped his hands, Kagome gaped at him in disbelief. Where…where did—

Inuyasha reached into his pocket and procured the aforementioned pencil before carelessly tossing it onto the counter. Crossing his arms, he stared dispassionately at the writhing wolf-demon on the floor, clutching his nose with both hands and the scent of blood was prevalent as he groaned in pain.

“I won’t ask again,” Inuyasha growled, golden eyes hard and flashing with thinly veiled warning. “Now make like the fucking pencil and disappear before you really piss me off, wolfshit.”

Managing to heave himself to his feet, but still clutching his nose that hadn’t stopped bleeding, Kouga glared murderously at the half-breed mutt and then shifted his gaze to Kagome. He was expecting sympathy, maybe even a little anger on his behalf – the fucker broke his nose, dammit! – but instead what he got was complete and utter ignorance from his former flame. She dedicated her attention to the boy in her arms, setting him on the counter and reaching inside a paper bag to retrieve what looked like a chocolate muffin, not even sparing him a glance.

And just like that the fight left Kouga and he sighed, giving up. Fine, he could take a hint. He pinned the mutt with one last venomous glare before turning tail and finally leaving, closing the door behind him.

Inuyasha grunted. “Good riddance.”

“Rinse,” Souji repeated with a mouthful of chocolate muffin and Inuyasha turned around to face mother and son. The toddler had more muffin on him than in him and the older half-demon chuckled as he stopped forward to ruffle his hair.

“That’s right, runt,” he praised and then locked eyes with his mother, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed and staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Magic trick, hm?” Kagome drawled as he made his way over to her, trying to remain stern but unable to keep the smile off her face as Inuyasha snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

He shrugged, unrepentant. “Souji liked it,” he defended and grinned down at her. “Hi.”

Kagome gave up and laughed, wrapping her own arms around his neck. “Good morn—”

His mouth cut off the rest of the greeting and Kagome melted against him, happily returning his kiss with a little hum of contentment.

“Sorry,” he rasped as he pulled back. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm,” Kagome murmured and pulled him back down for another one. Kagome felt his husky chuckle and smiled against his lips, tangling her hands in his hair and sighing in bliss as he nibbled the soft flesh of her bottom lip.

Several more kisses were exchanged, some sweet and slow, others deep and hot, until eventually Inuyasha figured it probably wasn’t he best idea to make out in front of her toddler son so he reluctantly pulled back with a sigh and contented himself by holding her in his arms. Kagome seemed perfectly happy to remain there as she watched her son sitting on the counter making a big mess with his muffin. He’d managed to get it on the floor too and she sighed. She wondered if she could persuade Inuyasha to clean it up while she gave the messy toddler a bath…

Her gaze suddenly landed on the pencil and she blinked.

“Hey,” she said and Inuyasha hummed in response. “How did you do that, by the way?”

“Do what?” He rose his eyebrows in question, but the corners of his lips twitched upward, belying his innocence.

She gave him a look and he smirked at her.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he rumbled and leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“Oh, so you’re a magician now?” Kagome breathed, shuddering as he trailed kisses along her jaw.

“Obviously.” Inuyasha ran his hands up and down her sides, claws snagging the fabric of her thin t-shirt. “I mean I have magic fingers.”

He gave a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows as he said that Kagome couldn’t stop the snort-laugh from erupting from her throat even as a light blush stole across her cheeks.

“And speaking of,” he continued with a devilish glint in honey eyes. “Wanna see me do another magic trick?”

Kagome eyed him suspiciously. “Okay,” she agreed somewhat warily, curious despite herself.

“Alright,” Inuyasha said and nodded. “Now watch closely.”

Kagome blinked and stared at him. Inuyasha stared back and vaguely she was aware of his hand crawling up her back, the feeling of claws through her shirt sending shivers to crawl along the length of her spine.

“What am I supposed to be watching?” she whispered and Inuyasha merely grinned before leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. She felt a slight pressure against her back, but paid it no mind, his kiss thoroughly distracting her.

Then he pulled away, released her from his arms, and that was when Kagome felt the tell-tale slackening of an unlatched bra and Kagome gasped as she immediately snapped up an arm to keep the garment in place.

The devil had just unhooked her bra! Through her shirt!

“Inuyasha,” Kagome squeaked, her face turning five shades of red as the wicked half-demon cackled and darted away, grabbing a happily squealing Souji and making his getaway.

“You—! How did you—?! Dammit, Inuyasha, get back here!”

With one arm pressed against her chest, Kagome took off after the pair of laughing half-demons, chasing them around her small apartment and it wasn’t long before she was laughing too.

“I told you!” Inuyasha shouted as he hopped the couch, grinning when Souji laughed in utter delight. “It’s magic!”

“Oh yeah, well watch as I magically shove my foot up your ass! Let’s see your magic solve that one, you mangy mutt!”

Inuyasha’s reply to that was to drop Souji safely onto the couch, catch his pursuer around the waist as she lunged at him, and then swoop her into a kiss and when Kagome wrapped her arms around his neck and immediately responded, it was warm, it was wonderful, it was…

Like magic.

[mewtwo24]

Noragami Thoughts

After a few years of not looking at this series (which is completely understandable, I very much wish the creator a full recovery) I was blown away upon my first return to the story.

Granted this isn’t the first time I’ve ever felt something so deep for a polished work, but I’d like to say it all the same--returning to Noragami felt like coming home. I’m a completely different person than I was when I first encountered the series, but I was surprised to find that my high regard for it didn’t change at all.

If anything, it only increased.

Thoughts below the cut because this is long, and I just needed to get my ideas down (good old catharsis). Don’t open if you aren’t caught up with the manga! There are spoilers.

I love this manga. Truly, I do, and one of the things that I noticed going back is how expertly Adachitoka handles both Yato’s self-understanding and the perception of the other gods. I think what levels me the most about this manga is that its emotional highs and lows are not only expertly controlled (we experience the weight never quite to the point of devastation, even though things are culminating in that direction) but the way we experience the characters is just...so breathtaking?

I love that the reason we hurt so much when they’re hurting isn’t always because we see the character in question in anguish. It’s because we see everyone that loves them suffer so acutely when they’re not okay.

And how beautiful is that? Something about that choice--that narrative decision to take trauma, to take pain and make it something that is always about love, is astonishing to me. I don’t think I know of another series that does it quite so poignantly as Noragami does. It expertly executes what I like to call “the anime effect”; in which we are so easily taken in by the humor we are utterly blind-sided when the world comes crashing down on the characters with full force.

And if that seems farfetched, just look at a handful of the recent examples. (I’m positive I could find more if I went looking back.) Kazuma is in a state of utter crisis because of what happened to Bishamonten, and the sheer desperation of everything he has done is chilling. His face and his self-deprecating words do little to hide the turmoil, but I feel like sometimes that’s lost in all of his shenanigans with Yato. We feel it in the moment, but we’re so swept away by the plot that it’s almost sidetracked. Almost. Until we get to the absolutely heartwrenching panel of Bishamon crying after he reports what he’s doing--essentially what he’s always done. Being devoted to her to the point of self-destruction; because it’s precisely the outcome she was trying to avoid in using another shinki against Fujisaki.

Take another, Ebisu. We see him painstakingly working despite his adorable youth to bridge the gaps that his predecessors failed to, to right every wrong he possibly can. He’s approaching the future with fresh eyes. But then we see that, even though he’s trying hard to be strong, there’s something more there. The older Ebisu, knowing that his fate was to perish long before any great age, had come to terms with that--as best as any person could possibly come to terms with that--and was already invested in protecting his successor. Gently, earnestly, firmly. We see a younger Ebisu that is enthralled with him, and the reader naturally assumes young Ebisu sees him as a parental figure. But then we get those shocking lines, the ones that mention how scared his predecessor must have been. How hard a lifetime of secrecy must be, how hard it must be for his closest retainer to keep secrets as well. We see an Ebisu that is young, yes, and with plenty of mourning available to him--and he takes it all in stride. Seeks to alleviate a great weight that was never his responsibility to begin with. But he takes it anyway, at the sight of their struggle. He makes it his own, despite the danger, because he loves them; as most young children do, without reserve.

And the surprising one, Nana. We see Yato make an attempt to ask for her help in ending Fujisaki once and for all--and Nana doesn’t seem entirely against the prospect of a fight--but Ara-habaki banishes him at the mere prospect of lending her over for that purpose. The meaning of that gesture? Profound and undeniable. Nana is utterly touched by the implication, is moved that somebody in this shoddy excuse of an afterlife would give a damn about her feelings as compared to her value as a shinki. We see a god that once again rejects the prospect of using shinki like chess pieces, and we even see Yato’s misgivings about using her to begin with--it was an act of desperation, and he moves no further when he’s reminded that it’s wrong. When he’s reminded that this isn’t the sort of thing he should do. After all, how can he look Yukine and Hiyori in the eye with the knowledge that he used a child to protect them? An unrelated party, a person who has never seen life because of her incredible power, and has been used one too many times to win a war that was never her responsibility.

And then, we have Yukine. Good fucking god, I can’t even start on this one without crying. I truly can’t. Granted I don’t know the intention of Adachitoka when first writing this (feels intentional), but the parallels between Yukine and Yato? Absolutely destroy me. There was nothing left in my heart but sorrow for the last few chapters. Here’s why.

We have Yato, or perhaps I should say Yaboku, yes? Who takes on Yukine as his shinki. As we all well know (and probably want to scream) Yaboku was the victim of considerable abuse by Fujisaki. I probably don’t need to go into the finer points, but coercion, blackmail, and outright threats have been exchanged, to say nothing of the way he uses Yato’s emotional suffering for his explicit amusement. Yato is a tool to him, nothing more. Anything Yato wants can and will be used against him for the sake of tightening Fujisaki’s collar around his neck even tighter. 

Yato is no stranger to the kind of pain that comes from being the child of a person that does not remotely love you. A guardian who appreciates nothing, recognizes nothing, praises nothing, protects no one unless it is of use to them. Feelings, fairness, humanity--none of those things matter.

Enter Yukine. In milliseconds Yato is charged with the care of a young man who was veritably buried alive by his own father. With nothing and no one to help him, an entire life lost--devastated--by the person that was intended to care for him. That kind of betrayal on its own, is purely horrific. There are no words I can say, nothing I can offer that can speak to the monstrosity of something like that. But I would like to offer that the way Adachitoka brings us to this truth is what makes it so utterly tearjerking. That it is precisely the narrative style of tangentially enclosing on the subject that is so ruinous I can barely see my screen, even now as I write.

It’s because we knew, even when we didn’t know. 

From the very first moment, we see Yato accept Yukine and he covers his eyes with his arm. We see tears streak down his face but he makes no further comment to any of it, keeping quiet with his subsequent silly antics. 

Strike one.

Throughout the course of manga we see allusions to how Yato encourages Yukine to learn what he didn’t get the chance to in his human life, sifting through workbooks and engaging with schoolwork with Hiyori’s help.

Strike two.

When Yukine is locked inside the box the other gods enforce during the trial in heaven, trying to pressure information out of Yato? We see Yato panic at exponential degrees, begging them to let Yukine out because neither of them can breathe. 

Strike three.

Yukine’s pervasive fear of dark, enclosed spaces?

Strike four.

And last, but absolutely not least, we see Yato digging where Yukine was presumably left to die. Nora notes that he was so on edge that he was hyperaware of his surroundings, forcing her to watch from a distance. Let that sink in. Yato was already so taken with his charge, with respecting his dignity and suffering as a person, that he would be damned if he let Fujisaki interfere. Not only that, we visibly see Yato’s absolute horror, the distress in every line of his face as he races to the site of murder and digs like a madman, no thought to his own fear or discomfort.

He takes more responsibility for Yukine’s care than the kid’s own father ever did.

Strike five.

Hiyori begins to outright sob when she too, brings all of the pieces together so quickly; that moment of realization, where every fragment of odd behavior suddenly transfigures itself into a coherent image, the mosaic visible. We experience Yato’s horror twofold when it echoes in Hiyori, and we feel the depth of her sorrow to know that somebody she cares about suffered such an egregious indignity. And to top all that off, we are aligned with her in this moment as one of solidarity. Yukine is rough around the edges sure; but we love him, and his fate is one we would wish on nobody. 

Strike six.

And, my dear readers, is that enough for us? Are we feeling enough hurt quite yet, Adachitoka asks? Fuck no. 

Because now we know that Yato not only carried the weight of Yukine’s trauma, but we also know how deeply he understood. Granted, their fates were a little different, but he knows. He knows how infuriating helplessness can be, the incapacity to stop the hurt at its source; because their lives were changed irrevocably beyond their control. Neither of them got to choose who they were born to. And even so he still tries to do right by Yukine, even if his attempts at care are awkward or ridiculous or roughly hewn--they’re utterly, heartbreakingly genuine. And he chooses to be better than his father no matter how many times he messes up; never, ever sinks to those lows. Never uses Yukine, never ignores his will, would never risk his life--even if it meant saving his own (Fujisaki sees literally everyone that will not contribute to his aspirations as expendable). And that’s what makes me cry, even more than the refrigerator scene. Because Yato would never put Yukine at risk to save his own life, even though next to no one has ever given a damn about him, even though Yukine pokes fun at him all the time and hurts him when he acts out of line/immorally, even though he had every liberty to treat him like an item or coerce him. He doesn’t. Or perhaps more accurately he can’t; not when he knows how much that hurts.

The other gods assume Yato to be lazy, irresponsible, unfeeling, selfish. Yato could have dropped Yukine like a rock. Could have said lol no thanks, this ain’t it chief, and decided to find another shinki that would cause him less grief.

He doesn’t.

And that’s what’s so awful about their falling out. Because Yato cares, cares beyond his capability to express, cares to the point of unrelenting faith in him. But he’s the certified goofball. The disgrace among the gods. A no-name. And he’s fully internalized that. He struggles with vulnerability, has to be somewhat drunk or flees the scene shortly after any expression of heightened feeling--and we can thank daddy Fujisaki for that. Yato understands his love for others as a purely destructive force; if being around him isn’t enough to ruin their lives, Fujisaki will ensure it. And that conditioning doesn’t go away in mere weeks of renouncing an abuser.

He loves Yukine and Hiyori so much that he no longer cares if he dies if it means that they live freely. He spent an entire god-span lifetime trying to remain in existence by any means possible, was obsessed with surviving at any cost. And yet, the moment his loved ones are at risk, it no longer matters.

Not only is he capable of more altruism than his father was ever capable of, he directs it whole-heartedly to the people devoted to him. When he was given no love, no solace, no semblance of worth of any kind--he still gives their existence meaning and would do everything in his power not to hurt them.

And that’s why I love Noragami. Because it does precisely what so few stories do, imo. It shows us that people grow for the better only when they find love, and that love can come from unlikely places--that you can love even if it was never, ever given to you. 

In Noragami, we come to understand that love is a choice. And sometimes it brings us pain, sometimes it brings us joy, but it always brings us to a better place.

I would like to end this all with the words that bring this entire analysis together, in the beauty of knowing that Adachitoka by no means implies this without clarity.

Nana and Fujisaki are two of the strongest characters that we have ever seen in this manga. Fujisaki is motivated, iirc, by the loss of the love of his life. This aching bitterness, the sheer undying rage inspired by her life cut short is what enables him to transcend every barrier that should stand in the way of a human being, presumably. He is our insight into what happens when love is twisted, we see a potential that was utterly lost to selfishness and cruelty--one that reverberates through Yato starkly. 

We see the danger of improper mourning, of an incapacity to let go. A truth Yato understands: life must go on, that it must keep flourishing anew no matter how much the growing pains sting.

And here, we see Nana. In her profound compassion, she understands that every single life is a meaningful individual, that they are innumerable points of value and beauty and worth in the world, and as such her death cannot be a source of sorrow. There is a clarity of understanding; she knows she is not alone in her experience, she knows that all human beings encounter trials and tribulations. She knows that she is not the first to die so young, so unfairly. And that’s what grants her strength. Yato calls it self-sacrifice, and while I understand that he assumes it to be a self-martyring conviction, I don’t think that’s quite what she’s getting at. Look at her dialogue, the careful phrasing: “It hurts more when someone you love dies.” She’s not saying she would rather die 1:1, she’s saying that the worst experience a person can have is seeing their cherished one in agony. The worst feeling, the only thing that could ever hurt her beyond sanity, is watching someone dear to her suffer without any means to stop it. Precisely what warped Fujisaki beyond repair.

“He loves Yukine and Hiyori so much that he no longer cares if he dies if it means that they live.” Reread those panels with that understanding. He literally marvels at Nana’s capacity to do that, to love people with so much tenderness and generosity, when he doesn’t even seem to realize that he’s doing it himself. That he too, is noble and strong, even if he can’t believe it.

And that’s the whole point. That’s the entire grounding of this manga. That love is what drives us, that we are made to love, and through love we find peace and self-understanding even in the most turbulent of times. I wouldn’t be remotely surprised if it is to be Hiyori’s devotion to him--ever steady, ever pure in its intentions and belief--that will be what grants Yato the strength to overcome Fujisaki, and heal Yukine. 

And having said all that, I know they probably won’t see this but I still feel the need to say it anyway. Thank you, Adachitoka. Works like this are the ones that inspire me to keep trying, that bring me to tears as much as it makes me smile. I can only hope I can create somethings so wonderful someday.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Do you like El? I got the impression that you don't really like her. And if you consider Byler as endgame, what kind of ending do you expect for El? Season 2 reminded me that El supposed to die in Season 1. This is immediately felt, since I got the impression that the Duffers simply do not know what to do with her, she had a rather boring story in Season 2. The only thing that added interest to her story was her relationship with Hop. But this is more Hop’s Arc, and El is just an addition to it.

I like El. That is to say, I like the idea of the character. I think she was very well written in Seasons 1 & 2, and she’s been very well acted by Millie Bobby Brown. It was really Season 3 that soured me on her, and that’s more of a criticism of the writing than the character. I’d like to believe that her depiction in Season 3 is intentional, and that they have plans to build on it, but it still remains to be seen. Her story is complex in that her personal journey is overinfluenced by others, and this results in her appearing to not have her own journey. Season 3 can still work with that story, as long as it was meant to demonstrate that she has a ways to go still. 

Basically, El is a tricky character to work with. Her lack of social and emotional development early in life should result in a stunted child who has difficulty adapting to a more normal life. This is what we see in Seasons 1 & 2, and it was handled very well. El had a basic set of personal values that drove her actions: personal survival, protection of her friends, and a desire for freedom. She had little opportunity for growth considering that she went from being raised in the very restrictive lab to spending a year in Hopper’s cabin with little besides him and TV for models of behavior. Her “spying” on Mike isn’t terribly unusual given her isolation and the fact that she bonded with him the most. The possessive behavior, such as knocking Max off her skateboard, is concerning, but not terribly unusual given her upbringing. When she finally reunites with the Party, she makes sure to share a moment with Dustin and Lucas, showing that she missed them as well as Mike. She also checks in on Will while he’s unconscious, so one would think she’d want to get to know him.

Then comes Season 3, and, suddenly, El is fine about being stuck in the cabin so long as Mike is with her. She seems to care little about seeing Dustin or Lucas outside of helping the Party with Dustin’s surprise welcome home. I don’t recall her interacting with Will at all. She also seems to be incredibly dismissive of Hopper, despite their Season 2 arc seeming to be how much they love each other despite each having difficulty adapting to a father/daughter relationship. This would ostensibly be Mike’s influence on her, but it still shows a major compromise of her values, as well as a regression of her Season 2 development. We’re seeing her use Mike as a sort of safety blanket (she literally clings to him when Dustin shows off his gadgets), and she continues to do so until she catches him in a lie. 

I do sometimes wonder if the Duffers painted themselves into a corner with her. She was a very popular character, which I suppose led to them adding her to Season 2. They claimed that they originally intended for her to have truly died in the act of killing the demogorgon. Her power level necessitated keeping her away from the threat for most of Season 2, resulting in the seemingly out of place episode where she goes to see Kali. Any development from that arc is missing in Season 3 aside from a single mention of “bitchin’” by El. She lacks the assertiveness, sense of camaraderie, or even personal style that this episode seemed to impart onto her. Instead, she’s revealed to still be a chameleon of sorts, taking on the qualities and mannerisms of whomever she is currently attached to. She goes from having Mike’s flippant arrogance to Max’s sassy assertiveness. 

This is all something I could live with, and even appreciate, as long as it leads somewhere. I’m begging for Season 3 to all have been a means to hammer home that El is not developing in a healthy fashion. If that ends up being the case, then I will be happy. 

A sense that I dislike El may come out in regards to her powers, though. I have a dislike for super powerful characters who can solve any given problem. Season 3 was heavily reliant on El. Unlike Season 2, El is present at each occasion where her powers are beneficial, and she is subsequently able to win, to one degree or another, each time. It was particularly frustrating during the sauna test. She is shown being overpowered by Billy, which could have been a good occasion to show that El can’t do it alone, as well as her friends not being totally helpless. Instead, they have Mike utterly fail at helping, and El manages to suddenly bounce back and defeat Billy even though she had just failed a moment prior. They may have shown El struggling, increasingly so, but she was still able to win every battle. Seasons 1 & 2 carefully spooned out her powers until their climactic battles, but not Season 3.

I suppose, given that I think Season 3′s over-the-top, in-your-face action was intentional, that they wanted to highlight the overreliance on El, and also show that her powers can’t constantly save the day. They do ultimately have her powers vanish, requiring the rest of the cast to figure things out. Still, it was frustrating to also have her be the only to break Billy away from the Mindflayer’s control. That really should’ve been Max’s role, if anyone’s, and it was just another “El saves the day” moment that grated on me. Yes, she did it without her powers, but only because her powers gave her the knowledge to put it to work. 

I imagine Season 4 will involve her coping with life without powers, which I think will be great. Not only will it serve as a plot necessity to keep her from finding Hopper, but it gives her a chance to be a regular kid. Her biggest character arc, hinted at by Max, is that she needs to discover who she is. While she had some growth in Season 2, limited though it may have been, she regressed in Season 3. She won’t be able to cling to Mike or Max now that she’s moved away. It’s been her tendency to simply emulate others that has held her back. Her being Hopper’s daughter is much a part of her arc as it is his. She doesn’t know how to have a father due to her only previous experience being “Papa.” Her attitude with him in Season 3 wasn’t her learning how to be a typical teenager. Rather, she was emulating Mike, making it a symptom of her larger problems. 

El, ultimately, hasn’t achieved even a rudimentary sense of self, and Mike is partially to blame for it, albeit uninentionally. Anytime El has shown any growth, she’s ultimately reverted in order to be with Mike again. El is better without Mike, and vice versa. They were codependent, unhealthy. Their relationship isn’t necessarily beyond repair, but it would almost require a complete reboot. I think it would be extremely limiting for her story have her end up with Mike when we’ve already seen how bad it’s been for both of them. An ending for El should involve her discovering who she really is outside of Mike’s, or anyone else’s, influence. It should involve El finally being part of a family (be it just Hopper or an integration into the Byers), as well as learning to be part of a larger group of friends instead of attaching herself to one person (as she did with Mike and Max). It had to have been intentional to show her lack of interaction with other characters. Otherwise, it’s just bad writing. The Duffers may have made a risky decision in bringing back a character they originally didn’t plan to, but I choose to believe they did so with at least some idea of what to do with her.