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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

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Return to Me

Characters: Albedo, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings: Violence, Minor villain death

Premise: What is it like when the one you most adore becomes a stranger? And how’re you supposed to pick up the pieces?

In which the reader loses their memory.

Author’s Note: Just a note that this is not how actual amnesia works, and if you’re experiencing memory loss please contact your doctor.

That being said the amnesia is really good for angst and pining so how could I resist? It’s one of those guilty pleasure tropes I like to read and think of so I hope I did it justice.

Albedo

Albedo loved two things in this world, alchemy and you. They were what kept him centered, what kept him sharp and curious and full of life. So how could it be that one of those things should cause him such great unhappiness, and that said unhappiness should be the other’s suffering?

It had been a dangerous experiment, from the beginning Albedo was well aware of that. Testing whether or not elemental energy contained traces of elements via water could yield incredibly useful results about magic’s interaction with the ordinary world. But it could also backfire massively. Noxious gases, explosions, anything was possible.

But he’d thought he was prepared. After all you two had hiked all the way to the edges of Windrise specifically so no one would be around, and Albedo had even put up a barrier with the express intention of keeping anyone from getting hurt. It should’ve been fine, everything should’ve been fine, and yet when the Electro Slime condensate hit the water and the explosion knocked you both off your feet, slamming into the ground three meters from where you’d originated, he could only wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Picking himself up after a few agonizing seconds, every bone and muscle in his body stiff and aching from the sudden impact, Albedo crawled over to where you lay. To his horror you appeared to have hit a rock, and your head was bleeding slightly. Cupping your face in his hands the alchemist rasped out your name. The relief he felt when you opened your eyes was only momentary, replaced by shock and a sense of utter emptiness when you made out a groggy: ��Who are you?”

Electro slime elements appear to contain no small amount of Chlorine, which, combined with only the hydrogen as a result of the electricity splitting the water molecules apart, caused an explosion. Although normally Albedo might’ve been thrilled by the discovery of an element only found mixed in the natural world, now he could only look upon that experiment with a raw sort of hatred that he hadn’t known he’d possessed. The ice around the alchemist’s heart had been burned away, and now all that remained was a burnt and shriveled up little thing, determined to make up for the lack of emotions by throwing its owner into the pits of despair.

Albedo spent all his time at first in the hospital and then in the apartment you two shared. You’d made an offhanded remark about how empty it looked, and Albedo had smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell you he could barely look at a piece of science equipment without a deep sense of loss. The doctors had said the effects should fade with time, but Albedo knew that there had been magic in the air, and a sick, twisted part of himself jeered that he was holding onto false hope.

It didn’t help that Albedo had been absolutely unprepared for the reality in which you couldn’t remember a thing about him, or your relationship. Never again would you rush up to him as you had before, excitement in your eyes and questions in your head. Memories of gathering crystal flies in the sunset and staying up all night, notes on old ruins swapped with sweet kisses and phrases that meant nothing at all, the beach where Albedo had sketched you for the first time and you had given him your first gift, all that was nothing to you, the stories of a stranger told by another.

“The first gift you gave me was a flower preserved in a solution of Cryo.” You said, words awkward and unsure in your mouth. Albedo knew that you weren’t really remembering it.

“That’s right,” he replied, voice light and calm, trying desperately to keep the despair from showing on his face. “It was a Cecilia. You said that it looked as if it was made of snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” you replied, speaking more to yourself than to him, “I wish I could remember it.”

“You will someday, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but the movement felt like too much effort to keep up and soon his face collapsed once more into an expression of melancholy. As if noticing this you smiled slightly in turn.

“Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” Albedo gazed out the window that faced you two. Beyond the buildings, only a few streets away lay his laboratory, locked away and gathering dust, “it does, but I cannot get it right now.”

“Oh,” you seemed at a loss for words, glancing down towards your hands, “that’s alright. I’d rather remember it on my own anyways.”

Albedo said nothing to this. Moving to place his hand on yours he paused. He was a stranger to you. This little act of comfort, all the little gestures he’d gotten so used to were now impossible. Dropping his hand to his side he moved to get you a glass of water, desperately trying to ignore the pain burning in his chest and in his heart.

_____

“Are these yours?”

Albedo placed the bag of groceries he’d just gotten on the floor. Moving over to where you were sitting, you were taking a break from adventuring until you remembered more, a decision made by the doctors for fear you’d forgotten how to control your vision. You had recently moved on from mostly sleeping to exploring your once familiar home, and now you sat curled on the couch; in your lap was a familiar book. Leaning over Albedo glanced at the page you were on.

“Yes, they’re mine. I like to sketch in my free time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, running your hand reverently over the slightly stained page, “I can see the different shades in the mountain, even if it’s only a pencil drawing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Albedo smiled to himself, the memory of that day offering him some solace, “it was quite a difficult thing to draw.”

“It had an odd name.” You scrunched your nose slightly in concentration, an expression so cute Albedo could help but let out a huff of bittersweet laughter.

“Dragonspine. That’s the name of the mountain.” Turning to put the groceries away he paused when you spoke once more.

“No. That wasn’t it. It was something else. V-Vida something.” Albedo watched, incoherent thoughts and emotions clouding his mind as you retraced the circles you’d been making on the page beforehand. Suddenly your fingers stopped and you looked up. “Vindagnyr, yes that’s it! There’s a fortress up there, a, what did you tell me they were called, a domain. And that’s the name of it.” You closed your eyes once more. “Something happened there, something to do with you. I can’t remember it, if I was there or if you told me about it before, but something’s there. Something important.”

Albedo felt as if he must’ve been dreaming. The same sort of emptiness that had filled him at the beginning of this catastrophe was there, but this time there was something else, the bitter feeling of a hope that he couldn’t be sure of filling his lungs and his mouth. He turned back towards you, teetering forward as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Yes. That’s right. Vindagnyr. The name it had before it was essentially destroyed by Durin. I met the Traveler there, a week before I met you.” He sat down on the chair adjacent to where you were sitting, memories filling his mind. “It was also the first place we performed an experiment together.”

“I’d like to go there again then.” Your face was one of open triumph and excitement, and there was something in your eyes that Albedo thought he might never see again, a sort of recognition that he thought had been lost, “I know you haven’t been to your work once. I suppose it would make sense, considering what happened, but would you take me there?”

“Of course.” Albedo’s voice was sure and solid.

“Even though I might not remember more.”

“Even then.”

You reached your hand out to the alchemist, and after a second Albedo took it. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand slightly, and you made no move to withdraw, instead squeezing his palm slightly.

You had remembered something. It wasn’t everything of course, and there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be heartbreak up ahead, wouldn’t be frustration and sorrow and moments when hope seemed very far away. But as long as moments like this existed, Albedo could hang on. The anger and despair that had burned inside him remained, but now something stronger resided there.

And that was hope.

Scaramouche

“Do you see them?” You whispered, raising your head slightly above the rock you were hiding under. Scowling Scaramouche made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“Yes I see them. And get back down!”

Although his tone of voice was harsher than usual you smiled a smile of understanding as you lowered yourself once more out of sight. Scarmouche took a deep breath in response, trying to control the coiling tension that sat in his stomach. Today’s mission was an unenviable one, made only worse by your presence, for Scaramouche knew these were no ordinary enemies, and though you could take care of yourself just fine there was a nagging in his head that refused to be silenced.

Your targets sat encamped up ahead, completely nondescript in appearance, although that was hardly surprising of deserters of the Fatui, especially ones of such high caliber as them.

Scaramouche’s expression twisted into a scowl of concentration once more as he thought about the moment when you two had received your orders to get rid of those who knew of the dealings of the army of the Tsaritsa, and who were certainly willing to dispose of said secrets for the right price. Although they were no doubt traitors of the worst sort and worth less than dirt, there was still something unpleasant about fighting people who had once been comrades. You’d mused it was because of the bonds of mutual struggle and culture, but Scaramouche suspected for himself it was more the annoyance of fighting people who were at least somewhat trained.

Scaramouche gave the signal and you crept once more out from behind your hiding spot. Manifesting your polearm Scaramouche could already see the well worn metal steaming. This battle was going to be bloody.

At first everything had gone well enough, being hidden on a ledge about the camp you’d managed to do a great deal of damage, made easier by their surprise and ill planned position. However things quickly began to turn sour. The ex-Fatui might not’ve had the equipment of their army days, but they retained the ruthlessness that had once made them so efficient and now made them so dangerous.

There was an odd smell running through the valley, the smell of electricity and something burning. Scaramouche stood in front of a man who had certainly once been a vanguard and a woman who appeared to have been a Cryo mage. Sweat coated their faces but Scarmouche felt cold with the thrill of battle. Electricity crackled to life in his hands and already bits of electricity were dancing on the charred and dinky armor of his enemies. What were they thinking sending a Harbinger against a pathetic group such as this? It was laughable, really.

“Such a pity that members of such an elite force are going to die like dogs.” He drawled. The woman in front of him gritted her teeth, summoning a trail of icicles which Scaramouche easily leapt over. “Is that truly your worth?” He laughed, before the calm that always came with killing washed over him. “Your best is hardly worth my worst.” Gathering electricity, Scaramouche prepared for the final, searing strike.

The man in front of him smiled a sickening sort of smile, the kind that one made only when they knew that it was the end, and then it all went wrong.

The sound of your voice was muffled by the energy approaching Scaramouche from behind, as the outline of a transparent sort of figure clipped his vision. Quickly whirling around Scaramouche was unprepared for the third ex-Fatui member, an agent who had apparently learned his skills well, bearing down on him. Raising his hands, the Harbinger was suddenly thrown aside by an unknown force. Fire made contact with lightning and the ground exploded.

Fighting to retain consciousness Scaramouche was aware of the sickly smell of burning flesh. Blinking away the confusion he glanced at the carnage around him. The agent lay haphazardly, face half obscured by a mass of flesh that must’ve once made him up but now seemed out of place. Behind him the other agents had hardly feared better, and the charred visage of mangled flesh replace what had once been arms, legs, necks. It was an unsettling view, and though Scaramouche couldn’t say it was the worst thing he’d ever seen it still left a vile taste in his mouth. How quickly a fragile little human could come undone, made into that which was unrecognizable.

Finally he fixed his gaze towards you, relieved to find that there was no apparent wounds, although that perspective shifted slightly when viewing your hands, which were covered with welts. Your fire must’ve mixed with his electricity, causing an overload of energy, and you two lying in the eye of the storm. Scaramouche looked at his own hands, and realized they were similarly reddened. Ignoring the pain he shook your shoulder. “Get up.” He let out when you finally opened your eyes.

However it was apparent very quickly that something was wrong. You eyes held no recognition in them, instead they seemed as blank and transparent as a mirror. Looking at him you furrowed your brow slightly.

“Where…” your gaze drifted towards the scraps of humanity around you and then there was nothing but screaming and a wetness on Scaramouche’s cheeks that felt suspiciously like tears.

“You need to get back to work.” Signora’s voice betrayed no sense of pity. Scaramouche was glad for it, he wouldn’t’ve been able to forgive her if there had been.

“I doubt those imbeciles need me for something as simple as the daily regime. If they do it’s their fault, not mine. I owe them nothing.”

“You owe them your work, it’s your duty as a Harbinger,” Signora’s eyes narrowed, “or have you forgotten that in your folly.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Scaramouche snapped, eyes boring into those across from him. “I am well aware of what my obligations are and what they aren’t. As I said there is nothing of importance fir me right now, and I don’t wish to waste away my time with trivial matters.”

“What would our dear Tsarina think of such words,” Signora let out a dramatic sigh. Raising the glass she was drinking from to your lips she paused, “you best be careful. I cannot shelter you from your folly forever. Either you learn how to deal with this… unfortunate incident and your work, or I shall have that person thrown out into the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Scaramouche’s tone was like acid and he felt for the moment as if letting go of himself wasn’t such a crime, for now there was no one to chastise him about it anymore.

“I’m warning you. Don’t forget what happens to those who cannot fulfill their duty to the Tsarina,” Signora paused, a cruel smile gracing her face, “or have you forgotten who caused this in the first place.”

It was all Scaramouche could do not to set the tent ablaze.

“Get. Out.” He commanded. Signora sighed, shaking her head and downing her drink in one go before walking out and leaving Scaramouche with the feeling of falling apart.

_______

“Do you sing?”

Scaramouche lifted his head at the sound of your voice, surprised by the question. You hadn’t said much since the aftermath of the incident, and Scaramouche hadn’t forced you to. After all it was one of the things he’d first appreciated in regards to you, you’d never forced him to talk when he didn’t want to. Now he felt the need to afford you the same courtesy, knowing that intelligence still lay behind those eyes even if recognition had disappeared. Now he put down the document he was reading, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re called isn’t it? Your name, one of your names. The… the Balladeer?” You said it as if it was a question, and perhaps it was. Scaramouche couldn’t think however, couldn’t think over the rushing in his ears.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just heard it. Or I remembered it. But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” You smiled, and for a moment Scaramouche could almost imagine life was as it was before. “Can you sing for me?”

“No.” This conversation had happened before.

“Fine,” you shook your head, “but one day I want you to sing for me, when I remember everything, then I want you to sing for me.”

“Fine.” Scaramouche managed to get out, afraid of the rising emotions he felt, afraid they might break through his voice.

“You’re missing work, aren’t you.” You continued on, gaze piercing through him. “I can tell, I can hear people whispering about it when I go out. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be working. If what you told me really is what happened, you should work.”

“Ridiculous,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I can manage my own affairs. Besides,” his voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to reveal himself to you. You were too familiar, but still a stranger, and a part of him hid behind the walls he built up around everyone else, the walls only you could climb over. “Besides, who would look after you.”

“I can look after myself.” Your answer was as confident as it had always been. “I have to, since I trust what you’ve told me about myself, about this work, this world.”

“It was you not looking after yourself that lost you your memory!” He was shouting by now, he was shouting but he couldn’t stop because if he stopped shouting he’d be crying.

“Perhaps. But it’s not looking after me to end up like the people we fought. So go to your work. And maybe one day when you come back, I’ll remember.”

He couldn’t say no to you, eventually you won. It had been that way since the beginning, you tearing down his bluffing and his empty promises. Perhaps it was what he appreciated most about you.

Every moment Scaramouche was away from you felt like he was betraying a part of himself, a part he had hid for so long. But you were right, just like before, and just like before you’d won him over with your honesty, your refusal to back down, and your view of the Harbinger for what he truly was, someone who was deep down truly afraid. That part of you remained, somehow without memory and without certainty it remained.

And if that part of you remained, well maybe some day the rest would return.

Xiao

“Xiao look!” You let out a cry of delight as you threw yourself off the tall stone mountain, glider unfurling in a vibrant waves of color as you began circling in the air. Xiao scowled from the tree in which he was perched, unwilling to humor you in your folly.

“You’re going to be injured.” Although he hadn’t meant for you to hear that you still laughed at the comment, shaking your head as you once more carved shapes into the sky.

“It’s a lovely day for gliding! The air is so fresh and the breeze is just enough to keep you upright!”

“It’s too windy.” Xiao’s voice was flat. This was foolish, what you were doing was foolish. He could feel the currents, feel their laughter, their excitement. They were surely up to no good.

But you weren’t paying attention to that, instead you were gliding about as if you were born to fly. It was a beautiful sight, Xiao had to admit. The beauty of those immersed in what they loved. And what Xiao loved was you.

“Come on Xiao!” You called out. “Come fly with me!”

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, I know you can do it!” Screwing your face into a pout when the adeptus once more shook his head you shrugged. “Your loss.”

Xiao knew you were disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed somehow out of place for him to join you in whatever you were doing. Besides, he needed to keep track of the currents, just in case.

You dove down for a moment, and Xiao felt his stomach clench, knowing full well what you were doing, but unable to keep the worry out of his mind. And yet then you were flying up, up, up, up and though Xiao wanted to scold you, wanted to tell you to come down once more, he was rapt, in awe. You were too beautiful, and it stole his breath away.

A gust of wind came blowing through the stone monoliths and as your wings buckled and you plummeted towards the ground Xiao found that he was truly unable to breathe at all.

Perhaps it was a blessing that you were unconscious. Then you didn’t have to feel the way Xiao held onto your shoulders as if he’d never let you go, the way he gasped for the air he was supposed to be in charge of, the way his eyes were devoid of everything but fear. You hadn’t fallen so far, he told himself, you hadn’t fallen so far it was fatal. You were breathing, you were going to be fine. But he found himself unable to believe those words. If you had said them he would’ve, but there you were, a crumpled mess and he barely able to process the world around him.

Crashing onto the Inn balcony, not caring about the odd looks thrown his way, Xiao made his way upstairs. You were going to be fine. You were.

If only he could believe himself.

“They’re out of danger now.” Verr Goldet’s voice was calm, unnaturally so, and Xiao only softened a little at the knowledge, sure something had gone wrong. “But…” the innkeeper continued, confirming all of the fears Xiao had been secretly nursing.

“But.”

“But there seems to be a problem with their memory. They were very confused at first, unable to remember things such as Liyue, their duty as adventurer, this place, things like that. At first we thought it would clear, but now it seems that isn’t so. Their memory might be affected for quite a while.”

“I want to see them.” Xiao brushed past Goldet, determined to help you if this was to be your fate. But Goldet’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Xiao, they can’t remember you.”

At first there was the feeling of falling. And then, as Xiao vanished, there was nothing.

______

At first Xiao was determined to stay away completely. It hurt too much, hurt to think about what had happened. At first he’d managed to survive on anger, anger at the world, at you not listening to him, at himself for letting it happen. But quickly the anger faded and what replaced it was a loneliness so vast he couldn’t believe that he had managed to survive in such a way before he met you.

Still he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see you as you were now, unaware of him and perhaps destined to remain so. How cruel fate was. It took everything he knew from him and just when he began to live again it took that to. It took away your memory, your livelihood, and for what? To punish him? It seemed unfair, so unfair.

So he’d stayed away, afraid that something would happened again to you if he were to show himself again. But the knowledge of such emotions as love is something that doesn’t fade, and Xiao found himself unable to continue on as before, finding the pain too great. He had to see you. At least to say goodbye, he had to see you. It would be unfair not to do so.

The moon was full, casting a silvery light on the landscape. Xiao drifted over towards the roof of the Inn, thankful that he was invisible, so as to not have to experience the moment your eyes reached him but you didn’t.

Your silhouette appeared quickly enough in the darkness. You seemed somewhat preoccupied, and yet there was a purpose to your step, made all the more evident by the Qingxin grasped firmly in your hand, a brethren of the other flowers which lay scattered on the railing.

“I know you’re there.” At first Xiao jumped, thinking perhaps you’d somehow managed to sense him. However he calmed down once you continued, it appeared you weren’t truly talking to him.

“I know you’re there. And I wish you’d come back,” You continued, gazing out on the landscape around you. “I don’t remember your name you see. They told me your name of course, but I wish they hadn’t, I wanted to remember it myself. It must be why you left, of course you didn’t want to see me like this. If what they said was true…” you shook your head, “I know it was true. I know that it had to have been true, that I cared for you, that you cared for me. I know because I miss you.” Xiao felt his heart pound in his chest, so loud he could barely hear you.

“I miss you so much. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know you anymore and yet I miss you. It’s as if something is missing. I mean, of course something is missing but it’s more than just the memories themselves. It’s the feeling. Like going outside without a coat on. I miss you, even if I can’t miss you because I can’t remember you I do, I miss you dearly.”

You paused, placing the flower on the railing next to the rest.

“I hope you see the flowers before they fade,” you called out softly to the dark, “and I hope one day I can look at you again. I remember you had such lovely eyes. I’d like to see them again to be sure.”

For a moment Xiao didn’t move, frozen by all he’d heard. But the minute you turned to leave he was already there, bound by the feelings he had for you, by the knowledge that continuing as he had been would kill him, would only hurt you.

“Do you remember me?” It was a silly question to ask, but he had nothing else to say. You turned towards him and smiled softly. It was true, your eyes didn’t recognize him. But there was something in your gaze nonetheless.

“Xiao.” You whispered, and the yaksha knew that he’d never be able to leave again.

#Don’t ask me why Albedo is mixing hydrogen with something that contains a halogen he and I are both just stupid like that #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #albedo #scaramouche #xiao #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #scenarios #mine

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transformedyt · 2 years ago

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Hadestown is SUCH a good musical! I’ve listened to the entire soundtrack dozens of times, and my favourite songs so many more. And through that, I’ve noticed some messages that may or may not have been intended, and i keep noticing more. I wanna share some of my favourites because it’s so good and i wanna talk about it. (Spoiler alert if you haven’t listened to it. You should. It’s good.)

1. There’s an anti capitalist message. This is strongest in Chant, but it appears throughout most of the musical. In Hadestown, you live to work, and lose yourself in the process. You lose your memories, your identity, and your freedom. All while the boss rakes in the money at your expense. And to deal with that, you pay someone else, the wife of the boss, to give you a glimpse of what you’re missing. Stars, flowers, the moon. Things that are free are suddenly locked behind a paywall, which makes you keep working to get the things that let you tolerate all that working. That sounds an awful lot like capitalism…

2. It shows that you need to let your significant others be their own people, not hold them to you and never give them space. Hades wanting to be with Persephone all the time nearly ruined their marriage, and the world with it. He grew obsessive and possessive, viewing her as an object he should be able to control. Which ended up driving her to driving in order to put up with this. He even made artificial replacements for the things she loved on the surface to try and keep her from returning. And by the end, he seemed to have learned. He learned to be patient and to trust his wife. And i like to think he didn’t fall back into old habits.

3. And while you definitely shouldn’t be overbearing with your loved ones, it also says not to neglect them. Orpheus didn’t pay attention to Eurydice when she said there was a storm coming, and she ended up dying as a result. That’s obviously taking it to the extreme, but it’s good to listen to your loved ones when they tell you something is wrong.

4. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Orpheus walked halfway to Hell and back using sheer determination. The road may be scary, but you’ll never know if you can make the trip if you don’t try.

5. Wait and see if you can’t change the outcome. Orpheus was told that if he looked behind him, Eurydice would go back to Hadestown. He began to grow paranoid that she was not following him. If she was not there, looking behind him wouldn’t change that. If she was, it would. So logically, he should have finished the trip instead of looking behind him. If she wasn’t there, he could go back. He got there before, he’d be able to do it again. But because he looked, she was sent back and he was unable to save her again.

6. “The meanest dog you’ll ever meet, he ain’t the hound dog in the street. He’ll bare some teeth and tear some skin, but brother that’s the worst of him. The dog you really gotta dread is the one that howls inside your head. It’s him whose howling drives men mad and a mind to its undoing.” I interpret this to mean that you are your own worst enemy. That little voice in the back of your head that puts you down or says things to scare you is worse than anyone else. Because it knows you. And it follows you. And it is so much worse than some random person saying those same things, imo. I personally view this, along with another bit later on in Wait For Me (Reprise) about the hardest road to walk, is about mental illness. Depression. Anxiety. Disorders that make that voice so much worse. And through that, there’s this hopeful melody. They sound a little scared to me, but hopeful. Which just makes what comes next that much more tragic. Because sometimes people stumble. Sometimes they fall back into that thinking and do things that they might regret. For me, it was losing touch with so many of my friends. But it can be different for everyone. But try to remember that hopeful melody is still going, even when you can’t hear it.

7. Times are tough. There are a lot of people who can barely afford to eat, if they can at all. People who are so focused on surviving that they don’t have time to focus on living. There is a difference.

8. Weddings are expensive.

I know it got kinda heavy there, but it’s a heavy musical. I’d love to know your own interpretations, things that you noticed, favourite songs/lyrics, character breakdowns, and anything else! It’s my favourite musical, but i don’t know anyone else who likes it, so I’d love to be able to discuss it with someone!

#i also need these people to make one about achilles #like right now #I’m so sick of straight achilles #and i feel like they’d do him right #hadestown #cw depression #anti capitalism

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kindaeccentric · 3 years ago

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When I was writing my university bachelor's degree thesis (that I'm still to defend) about Penny Dreadful as a modern adaptation of Frankenstein I noticed how the original novel's homoeroticism is realized by the series in an interesting way.

In the way he is presented, it seems to me that Victor secretly desires men, but thinks that only through creating a perfect one by himself he's allowed to touch other man's skin. His endeavour to pierce the veil between life and death is an excuse, since Victor from the series grew up lonely after the death of his mother and he searches for companionship, for someone who would love him unconditionally, like his mother used to. He believes he can find such love only in a person he creates himself, brings from the dead, and who would see him as his only friend, calm and obedient. Yet his first instinct is to make a man, not a woman, and a handsome man at that.

I can imagine both Rory Kinnear and Alex Price are not everybody's cup of tea (I do find them attractive, they are quite charismatic), but the way the original Creature and Proteus are shown makes them attractive. Proteus we see through Victor's eyes, when he is tending to his body before its even reanimated, when he sketches him (a sure sign of affection) and when he teaches him how to eat in a way that becomes seductive, because of how the camera lingers on his lips and then, in a closeup, on his fingers running down his long throat, immediately bringing to mind erotic imagery. Some may argue that Victor tries to emulate the relationship between his mother and himself taking the parental role and projecting onto Proteus the role of his childhood self, and as much as it is partially true, their relationship bears these marks of hidden desire on Victor's part from the start. The image at the end of the first episode when Proteus is born shows Victor trembling, teary-eyed, looking at the body, a torn and stitched back together, but human body, of a naked man. He's afraid, but not necessarily of the man, but of finally getting what he wanted, it's a fear resulting from excitement. Then the man is touching his face tenderly and Victor, still trembling, cannot stop himself from a little smile. Their faces are softly illuminated by the orange light of the gas lamp, creating an intimate atmosphere of a warm bedroom. Victor practically gasps hearing his own name smoken by Proteus. I doubt all of it was intentional in the way I read it, but it doesn't change the fact that the final scene can be easily interpreted this way.

Then the original Creature, with the violence surrounding his return, presents him as highly masculine, smart, powerful, a direct opposite to the delicate, clueless Proteus Victor could easily form into whatever he wanted. The Creature throughout the entire series is perceived as ugly by some and easily tolerated by others, making his ugliness purely subjective, since, despite his small deformities he remains strangely alluring with his gothic qualities (black long hair, black lips, white skin, yellow eyes, proportional features) of a dark brooding gentleman. With blood on his face he becomes vampire-like (vampires always a symbol of hidden desires and 'depraved' sexuality, the Creature and Victor becoming a mirror image of Vanessa and vampire Mina, both Creature's and Mina's monstrosity an indirect result of Victor's and Vanessa's desire towards having a same-sex companion). The Creature touches Victor's face, a callback to Proteus doing it, but the Creature is not gentle, he smears blood all over Victor's face (blood in vampire narratives was always a symbol for other bodily fluids, that's why it seems so sexy, it also gained another meaning in the 80s, due to the HIV epidemic, which no filmmaker can shake off if they tried, I could discuss it more with The Lost Boys, but no time for that right now).

The dynamic between Victor and the Creature is a reversal of Victor's budding relationship with Proteus, experience winning over innocence. Victor is under another man's rule, and it terrifies him, because it would force him into a position of having to admit his attraction, whereas as the one in control he could have still easily deny it. The Creature, with all his attributes, symbolizes carnal love, he's all 'body', where Proteus was virginal, pious love (to an extent). In one of the scenes where we see Proteus he looks up into the skylight at Victor's apartment and appears angelic, as if in a halo of white light.

It's revealed Victor never had a woman, and the series wants the viewer to believe it's because of his awkwardness and passion for science that consumed him, but his dedication to creating himself male companions instead of searching for a living female one is exactly what makes him seem more queer coded.

It's clear that the lack of paternal figure results in Victor quickly becoming close with older men he encounters (Sir Malcolm, Van Helsing), but it also puts him into a position where he's constantly surrounded by men, with whom he feels more at ease, and is intimidated by women. The rivalry between him and Ethan is that of siblings, until the moment when Ethan teaches him how to shoot a gun. It might be a stretch (it is a bit of a stretch, I admit), but a gun often, especially in horror, alongside a knife, represents manhood and masculine power. Victor allows Ethan to touch him and encourages him to show off with the gun, which is a scene all too familiar from many other movies where the role of Victor is reserved for a woman and the interaction is flirtatious (can't pull examples out of thin air, but if you saw over 1400 movies like me you know I'm not lying). All this adds to the general image of Victor.

The Creature and Victor, when they are on a walk, have a very revealing conversation in which the Creature points out how quick Victor was to grow attached to his more perfect man, and Victor doesn't deny it, he admits that he did in fact feel affection towards Proteus, although the meaning of it as the scorned past partner expressing jealousy over the love he didn't get while someone else did is largely subtext. When the Creature says that he's lonely, Victor answers 'I cannot love you' (paraphrase, because I can't find the exact quote right now) and the Creature, disillusioned, mocks him, 'I do not want what you cannot give' suggesting that Victor, by making himself a meek obedient man, is selfish, cruel, manipulating, and a coward, therefore could not have loved Proteus truly. Then again, Victor cannot bring himself to love his original Creature, because he's not the ideal man he envisioned and by then the Creature being too aware of his flaws of character. The Creature/Caliban/John Clare knows that Victor is 'monstrous', not just because he's someone who desecrates dead bodies, plays God and abandons his creation, but because of his queer desire. It's important that in the case of Penny Dreadful 'monstrosity' signifies many different things, literal (being a vampire werewolf, witch, and so on), metaphorical (bad deeds, like letting your son die a horrible death, cheating, killing etc.) and wholy subjective, merely condemned by ignorant society (Sembene's blackness, Brona's sex work, Lily's want to be equal or greater than men, Vanessa's want for sexual freedom, the Creature's ugliness, Angelique being transgender and other cases), so it's NOT that much of a stretch this time.

We also have the whole problem with Lily. Victor is so attached to Lily (who takes up both Elizabeth's and creature's bride parts in the novel) because he believes that only by possessing a good woman he'll be redeemed for his 'sinful' desires, but he's foolish to think that. This belief reduces a woman to a semi-maternal, semi-virginal angelic ideal with no sexual urges or agency, like virgin Mary. Lily is a true replacement for Victor's mother, and his imagined redemption. As long as she's similar to Proteus, in that she's not sexual, and pure like an angel. Yet Lily is not a woman in that sense. She is another of Victor's creatures, so she partially also takes over the role of the original Creature from the novel, a male. She's not an ideal of a Victorian obedient wife, she has power, or tries to have it, but power in the context of patriarchal society is masculine by nature. The moment she drops her pretenses of a weak delicate wife-like girl Victor does not want her like this. He doesn't want a woman that is sexually liberated, because he doesn't like women in this way, and yet, by being similar to the first Creature (from Victor's perspective, from hers John Clare is similar to Victor-a man, I could delve into Brona's sexuality, but later, this thing is already way longer than I intended) she's 'the man' he wanted.

There is also Henry. Henry Jekyll takes the role of his namesake in the novel, Henry Clerval, Victor's closest friend, and a character most often cited to have homoerotic tension with Victor. It's true that some of the eroticism might be accidental, stemming from the prevalence of homosocial interactions in 'Frankenstein' which in turn is a result of misogynistic nature of 19th century Genevian society and in-novel universe reflecting it, but like I mentioned before, it still feeds into the queer reading of the text and translates beautifully into Jekyll and Victor being both extremely misogynistic towards Lily and their mutual homoerotic tension. In the scenes where Henry purposes his plan to Victor he practically seductively purrs it into his ear, Lily becomes merely a female buffer that allows for that interaction, a female presence which is an excuse for male closeness (here I have a couple of examples actually: Dead Ringers, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Scream (in a roundabout way, through murder) and a couple others, but that deserves its own article). I won't even mention more references to the novel, because that's a lot already.

Penny Dreadful, although I believe largely unintentionally, expands on what is already there through the changes it introduces in relation to the novel's plot. I have nothing else smart to say, I just think it's worth considering.

*I use the word 'queer', because that's the umbrella term we use in academic writing for years now and even our lgbt+ group at university is called 'queer', so don't come at me with stupid takes

#Penny Dreadful #queer readings #Frankenstein #Victor Frankenstein #lily frankenstein

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awhitehead17 · 3 years ago

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Batfam Alphabet: J - Joker Junior (JJ)

Summary: When Dick is joined by his brother’s alter personality he struggles to complete his case work. JJ can be rather distracting especially when Dick has to keep a constant eye on him because he can’t be trusted to be on his own.

A/N: This story references to torture and self harm, nothing in graphic detail but please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable. This story is based where Tim had been kidnapped by the Joker and turned into Joker Junior.

Enjoy! :D

“Don’t. Put it back. Now.”

There’s a few beats of a silence and without looking he could tell his orders haven’t been followed. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Seconds later there’s a clanging of metal which indicates he’s been finally listened too. Dick takes a deep breath in and slowly lets it out before turning his focus back onto the task at hand.

He’s currently re-reading old case files looking for any names, locations, alibies that could possibly be linked into the current case he’s working. It’s a tedious task but it needs to be done. That being said it would be a lot easier if current company wasn’t present. It was rather distracting having to split his focus two ways so he could try and work as well as keep an eye on the kid at the same time.

This time Dick’s read no more than a paragraph when the sound of moving metal could be heard yet again.

Sighing in resignation, he shuts the file and turns around to face the rest of the cave. His eyes instantly drift over to the weapons table where his companion currently is at. The kid is frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Dick knowing he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. It’s like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, only in this situation the cookie is a dagger rather than an edible treat.

Opposite him the kid silently blinks owlishly, it would actually be an adorable sight if it weren’t for the creepy ass grin stretching across his face. It’s the grin that reminds Dick who he’s dealing with. It isn’t Tim who is standing in front of him but rather his alternate personality, JJ.

JJ first appeared about two years ago after Tim had been captured and tortured by the Joker. The best explanation they could come up with for his appearance is that JJ is Tim’s way of detaching himself from the traumatic experience he had. JJ is the result of the horrendous torture Tim went through.

It’s certainly taken everyone some time to adjust to this development. Even now, years later, everyone is still getting used to it. Tim is here, he’s still present and is the core identity, but JJ occasionally makes an appearance especially when Tim is feeling threatened, extremely stressed or emotionally unstable.

The whole thing has been a learning curve for everyone involved. Even Tim had to learn to deal with it. At first he understandably didn’t accept what was happening but over time he seem to concede with it and even come to some sort of agreement with JJ, apparently the two identities can communicate no matter who’s in control. Tim’s tried to explain it to him in the past but it’s pretty mind boggling so Dick simply believes what Tim is saying and doesn’t ask questions.

He can’t help but feel a little disturbed by JJ’s presence, it’s an unfair feeling because it’s not JJ’s fault – or Tim’s – but being reminded of what his little brother had to endure at the hands of an insane psychotic man is unnerving. It’s like a reminder of how he didn’t protect his little brother and how he failed him by not being good enough.

He knows the others also share similar feelings. Jason simply stays away from JJ, he doesn’t even enter the same room as him. Damian is constantly on edge when JJ is present, he often carries his katana around with him when they’re near one another. Cass happens to be the one who handles JJ the best, her calm demeanour seems to bizarrely settle JJ a little. Bruce… well Bruce has similar thoughts to him of how he failed to protect Tim, but both as a father and a mentor. He’s sat down with JJ and has had a conversation with him, they seemed to come to some sort of agreement which Dick doesn’t know the details of. Alfred, god bless him, takes it all in stride as he does with everything. Everyone else is weary of him but are civil towards him as much as they can be.

“JJ, I told you to put it down. Why did you pick it back up?” Dick questions after a long drawn out silence.

JJ plays with the dagger in his hands, twisting it this way and that with skilled precision. He blinks again and lets out a giggle. “Timmy needs to be punished.”

Dick frowns at the answer. That’s not what he had been expecting. “Why does Tim need to be punished? What has he done?”

“He failed us.”

JJ says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Dick has no idea what he’s on about. How has Tim failed? All Dick knows is that recently Tim’s been busy with the Titan’s and how he’s been working on his Neon Knights programme.

“What happened?”

JJ doesn’t respond and continues to play with the dagger in his hands. Seeing the sharp blade being toyed with makes Dick feel tense, he knows what kind of damage can be done with a weapon like that and he doesn’t want Tim – and by extension JJ – to get hurt.

“Timmy needs to be punished!” JJ repeats agitatedly. He stops playing with the dagger and grips it in both hands, Dick couldn’t help but wince when he sees the blade dig into the skin of his palms. “When someone fails they get punished. When they are bad they get punished! Timmy has to be punished for what he did.” JJ trails off with a high pitched giggle like the idea of punishment is hilarious.

Dick runs a hand over his face, he’s not getting anywhere here. Where’s Cass when you need her? She’s usually better at dealing with this side of JJ than he is.

“You know that physically punishing Tim also means you hurting yourself, don’t you?” Dick suggests evenly, trying a different tactic. “There are other ways than physical pain to deal with these sort of things.”

Dick has an inkling he knows what this is all about but he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet.

JJ lets out an uncontrollable giggle. “Silly Big Bird, I don’t feel pain, Uncle J made sure of that. Timmy on the other hand needs to pay for what he did and physical pain is the best way to teach a lesson so he remembers not to do it again.”

As if to prove a point, that’s when a drop of blood drips from JJ’s hand and lands on the floor. JJ doesn’t even notice. Dick tries to not flinch at the sight it, he hates the idea of his little brother hurting, no matter what it is it’s always hard to witness.

“I understand that you may be frustrated JJ, but why don’t you try talking to Tim instead. Tell him how you feel about whatever it is that he did and explain why you’re upset with the situation.” Dick suggests trying to sound as reasonable as he could.

JJ violently shakes his head, he seems to be getting more riled up as the conversation continues.

“No! Talking doesn’t work! He ignores me and doesn’t listen. The mission failed and he put us in danger for no reason, we could have been killed for nothing. He needs to remember to not do that again. I’ll make sure he remembers not to.”

Dick lets out a hum in acknowledgement. Something they’ve come to notice since JJ’s appearance is how protective, and even possessive, he is of Tim. The key thing is how no one is allowed to hurt Tim in anyway whatsoever, if they do then JJ will go on a vengeful rampage against whoever was responsible for it. That includes Tim himself.

To JJ, Tim putting himself in danger is essentially Tim hurting himself and he really doesn’t like that. It’s happened a couple times in the past, so in response to Tim putting himself in danger (often during missions) JJ feels the need to punish Tim for it.

Taking a deep breath Dick stares at the kid and wonders how he should proceed. He can’t just turn around and say “no” or retaliate because JJ will only get defensive and probably go do something much worse as a result. While Dick ponders, JJ stands there opposite him still gripping the dagger tightly in his hands with a small puddle of blood forming at his feet and grins creepily at Dick. To make the scene worse JJ tilts his head to the side just a little, adding to the creepy affect even more.

Thankfully he’s saved from trying to decide what to do when another body soon joins them in the cave. Dick’s attention turns away from JJ and onto Cass who casually strolls towards them with a light bounce in her step. Dick smiles warmly at her, feeling relieved for her appearance. Then immediate guilt hits him because he really shouldn’t be thinking that, Tim is his brother and what’s happened is by no means his fault and he should try to be supportive where he can, though sometimes it can get difficult.

Cass silently comes up to them and stands next to JJ. Dick watches with amusement as JJ’s grin slowly disappears from his face and is replaced with a scowl, his eyes narrow in what he would say is a challenge as he stares at her unmoving. Cass simply raises an eyebrow, she places a hand on her side and cocks her hip while she holds out the other in silent demand.

The two stare at one another for a long time, clearly testing the other’s patience and if Dick’s being honest he has to give JJ some credit for how long he’s with standing Cass’s pointed look. However it seems like JJ can’t out last Cass because he soon drops his gaze and relaxes his grip on the dagger but doesn’t let go of it yet.

“Timmy and I just want to have some fun. Why is that wrong?” JJ pouts, actually seeming disappointed and confused for why they’re saying no to him.

Dick catches himself from saying anything at the last second. He wants to question the ‘fun’ part of punishing but thinks better of it, it’s best that he stays quiet and lets Cass handle the situation.

Still staring at JJ, Cass keeps her hand out waiting for JJ to give her the dagger. After more staring he slaps the weapon into her hand with an exaggerated huff.

“Fine.” JJ huffs with a stomp of his foot. He scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “I guess I’ll have to find another way to punish – oops! – I mean play with Timmy.” He lets out a hysterical giggle at his own words.

Cass shakes her head and moves towards Dick. They make eyes contact and Cass sends him a soft smile, when she gets close enough with the hand not holding the bloody dagger she reaches up and cups his cheek. “Finish work and rest. I’ve got this.”

Dick places his hand over hers and sends her an appreciative look. “Thank you.”

Standing up Dick grabs the file he had abandoned earlier and makes a move to leave the desk, it’ll probably be best to head to his bedroom in the Manor where he won’t be disturbed, but when he turns around he finds JJ now over by the weapons table yet again.

“JJ!” He snaps harshly. The kid startles and looks up at Dick before a wide grin stretches across his face, he’s not even ashamed that he’s been caught with his hand hovering over another dagger. He soon retracts his hand and places them both behind his back, he sways side to side like he’s an innocent kid.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

Dick couldn’t help but eyeroll at the blatant lie. He sends JJ a pointed look. “Behave.” JJ’s response to that was to blow him a raspberry. Sending Cass a nod he leaves the desk with his folder tucked under his arm and makes his way to the stairs.

Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple. He should have been expecting something to happen really considering that nothing is ever easy with the kid, it’s only thanks to his reflexes and instincts that he hadn’t been impaled by the dagger JJ had just been eyeing up moments ago.

The weapon is now lodged in the wall in front of him from where Dick had luckily dodged it. The situation takes a moment to process in his mind and once it does he spins back around to witness JJ giggling hysterically and a wide-eyed Cass who had a hand over her mouth in shock. She’s clearly just as caught off guard by JJ’s actions as he was. Dick takes a deep breath and steadies himself, at least it didn’t actually hit him, not that the sentiment really helps with anything.

Deciding it’s really not worth it, he continues his journey to the stairs and proceeds to climb them, but not before grabbing the dagger buried in the wall along the way. JJ is Cass’s responsibility now, one he’ll happily pass over to her.

The last thing Dick hears when he gets to the top of the stairs is JJ calling out to him in between giggles.

“Bye bye Big Bird! See you soooooon!”

#batfam alphabet #dick grayson #Tim Drake #cassandra cain #JJ #joker junior #implied torture #torture #tw: self harm #bit angsty #cass cain is the best #This is not my best work #i really struggled writing this one #I've gotten to the point where I'm done with it #here have this mess #batfam #fanfiction

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littlemisspascal · 4 years ago

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Death and an Angel part 14.5

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,701

Warnings: angst, dialogue heavy, language, angst, Violence, plot plot plot, did I mention angst? Cuz it’s here

Author Note: Texas weather is no laughing matter and never have I hated snow more than these last few days. This is definitely more of a transition segment so I wrote shorter snippets as a result, but there is some serious plot development nevertheless. The response to last chapter was so amazing I can’t thank everyone enough for all the love and support 💖💖💖

Links to Part 1 and Part 14 and Part 15

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Ahsoka hijacks the Razor Crest as soon as Din teleports her aboard the ship. She pushes Din out of the cockpit, refusing to let him so much as glimpse the coordinates of the destination she inputs into the nav computer. The Oracle hadn’t been kidding when she said she didn’t trust him going alone to rescue his soulmate.

Bo-Katan hadn’t been phased by Ahsoka’s arrival, adapting to her presence with the same ease as a duck to water. However, Din couldn’t help noticing the moment her mask of cool indifference slipped when Ahsoka asked the reaper to stay in the cockpit with her, claiming they had important matters to discuss.

Din climbs down the ladder into the hull, recognizing that the conversation about to ensue is not one he needs to be involved in. Fingers twitching restlessly, he commits himself to checking each of the weapons in his armory, sharpening his vibroblades and loading a set of whistling birds into his vambrace. He’d made a promise to Ahsoka against killing Moff Gideon, but he’d made no vow against scarring the Seraph beyond recognition.

When Din’s finished with him, Gideon will be a warning to the rest of the galaxy what happens if you steal from Death.

He stills at the thrum of satisfaction that runs through his body at the thought of pressing Gideon’s eyeballs out with his thumbs. The darkness within him has grown stronger since he killed Hess and it’s becoming an increasingly harder challenge denying its craving for bloodshed. If not for Ahsoka’s intervention, he would have reaped Xi’an’s soul, breaking another sacred rule. He should feel grateful, but the darkness expresses annoyance instead, upset to have been denied its kill.

There is a thought that has been plaguing the back of his mind, shackled in the same corner as his other doubts and regrets. He once had iron control over his powers and emotions, but now he’s holding onto his human façade by a mere thread. So slowly he hadn’t even been aware it was happening, his darkness has usurped his morality.

He’s meant to be a neutral entity, but when he looks at his reflection in the fresher mirror all he sees is a weapon.

Obsidian orbs have replaced brown eyes. Flawless tan skin has become dissected by lines of ink that once were blue veins.

Darkness is corrupting him from the inside out, making him a slave to the power he once mastered.

And he doesn’t have a fucking clue how to stop it.

Bo-Katan joins him in the hull an hour later. She doesn’t say anything , just leans against the wall across from him, and Din continues cleaning the barrel of his amban rifle as if he doesn’t see her.

The silence isn’t tense or uncomfortable, but he feels her gaze trying to penetrate his helmet. He knows the reaper well-enough to tell there is a question on her mind, but her hesitance to voice it unsettles him. Bo-Katan rarely holds her tongue around him, preferring blunt honesty over sugarcoating, which means whatever is on her mind must be serious.

He bites back a sigh when she starts restlessly shifting in place and pauses his task. “Ahsoka told you,” he says at last.

“That Moff Gideon fucked with our lives?” Bo-Katan snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, she showed me everything.”

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Me too. But it’s...good not being in the dark anymore. I needed to hear the truth,” she replies stoically, but the pointless adjustment of her headband betrays her internal strife. There is a moment of pause before she looks at him again. “I heard about your promise,” she says, and it’s not really a question, except that it is.

Din’s fingers tighten around the rifle. “Did she make you swear the same one?”

“No.” Bo-Katan shakes her head. “No, she didn’t.”

He’s not surprised by the answer. He actually thinks he should have expected it, considering the universe has always held him to a stricter standard than other entities.

“Ahsoka made it clear to me that this is something between you, Gideon, and your angel alone. I cannot interfere just like you cannot kill him.”

There is bitter resignation in her tone. He recognizes it because he felt the same when he made his promise to Ahsoka. No one likes being told no when they want something. But this—knowing with absolute certainty Gideon is the one responsible for hurting their loved ones and being told you can’t do anything to avenge them? This is the kind of pain that will linger for years to come as an ache in their bones and a scar over their hearts.

It isn’t fair. But Din’s lived long enough to know the universe never intended life to be that way.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Bo-Katan asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinks at her, realizing this is the question she’d been withholding since she came down the ladder. Never has she asked him a request before. “What is it?”

“You must separate Gideon from the Darksaber,” she answers, expression one of absolute seriousness. “The Armorer warned my people if the Lightsaber was ever mishandled, it would turn against the wielder by transforming into the Darksaber. Instead of empowering you, it deceives you. Fills your head with delusions until you lose your grip on reality entirely.”

“And you want to spare Gideon’s sanity?” Din asks slowly.

“Of course not. The son of a bitch deserves to be punished for his crimes. Even if I did want to,” her lips curl into a snarl at the thought, “there’s no way of undoing the damage done to his mind. What I want is for the weapon to be returned to the Armorer. She’s the only one who can properly dispose of it.”

“Right,” he agrees quietly. Anything that comes out of the Armorer’s forge is built to last the length of eternity. He could toss the Darksaber into the center of a sun and it’d remain whole and unaffected, waiting to twist the mind of the next wielder. Nodding his head, he assures her, “I’ll take care of it, even if I have to cut off his hands.”

“Good.”

Din paces the length of the hull, each thud of his boots making contact with the metal floor blends with the low hum of the engines. Usually he’d ignore the creaks and groans of his home, but the metallic symphony is the only thing capable of drowning out the thoughts in his head urging him to storm the cockpit and retake control from Ahsoka.

“Pacing isn’t going to make us arrive any quicker,” Bo-Katan tells him, not even bothering to open her eyes as she lounges atop one of his storage crates. “Ahsoka said it will be another hour at least.”

He has a retort ready on his tongue when a voice calls out his name from somewhere beyond the Razor Crest.

“Din!”

Din freezes in place as unexpected, heart-wrenching hope slices through his chest. He knows that voice. It’s his favorite in all the galaxy.

“Death?” Bo-Katan asks, concerned by his stillness. “What’s wrong?”

He tentatively reaches out towards the bond, giving it the slightest of tugs. When he feels the distant flicker of a reaction on the other end from his angel he nearly forgets how to breathe.

“The bond,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe and relief. “I can feel it again.”

Longing fills his chest where the hollowness used to reside now that the invisible block separating them is gone. It wraps around his heart, squeezing so tightly he nearly falls to his knees. Din pulls at the bond again on impulse, possessed by the all-consuming need to see her, to have her at his side where she’ll be safe.

The bond protests the harsh treatment, too weak to physically bring them together across the vast distance separating them. He snarls a curse under his breath, hating being helpless to protect her. It’s unfair, he finds himself thinking for a second time. Unfair how it hurts more now being able to feel her presence compared to when he couldn’t at all.

A paper airplane flickers into existence on the horizon of his mind, flying straight into his hand when he reaches out for it. I can’t leave this place. Not yet, the note says. The words themselves are unsettling, but it’s the strength of the emotions she’s attached that has him reeling with shock. For one crazy, electrifying moment he thinks he’s passed onto the afterlife.

Another note arrives. I miss you, Din. I want to see you so much it hurts. And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously.

As he sends a message of his own, never has he been more certain that if anyone can put an end to the darkness inside of him—it’s her.

“The Moff is an expert when it comes to defensive warding,” Ahsoka says as the three of them stand looking up at a canyon wall that extends in either direction as far as their eyes can see. “But even he can’t hide from my sight.”

Din scuffs at the salt-covered ground with his boot, still coming to terms with the fact all this time Gideon’s been hiding out on Crait of all planets. As much as he wants to believe Ahsoka’s right, his powers can’t detect even the barest hint of the Seraph’s presence.

Bo-Katan’s eyebrows arch with skepticism. “You’re sure this is the right place? It’s kind of remote.”

“Perfect for building an army,” Ahsoka replies without missing a beat.

Din exchanges a look with his reaper, realizing this is the first time either of them are hearing about this.

“Gideon has an army?” he asks. “Who—”

“Mercenaries,” she interrupts, turning around to face them. Her blue eyes are distant and cloudy, entranced by a vision. “When I break the warding, all but one will meet the end of their mortal lives attempting to overpower us.”

“All but one? I don’t think so.” Bo-Katan rests her hands deliberately on her blaster pistols. “Anyone who works for Gideon is an enemy in my book.”

“Migs Mayfeld is not to be harmed.” There is steel in Ahsoka’s voice as she blinks back into the present moment.

Din nudges Bo-Katan with his arm when it looks like she wants to continue arguing. The reaper huffs a quiet breath of annoyance, but eventually jerks her head in the tiniest nod of compliance.

Ahsoka grabs her twin sabers from her belt and ignites their blue blades. She handles her weapons with deadly grace, altering her appearance from peaceful Oracle to fierce and cunning warrior. Turning back to the canyon wall, her gaze trails over the red-brown rocks only to pause and narrow at seemingly random points.

Bo-Katan tries and fails to follow her line of vision. “What are you—”

The Oracle leaps into the air with surprising agility, lashing out with her sabers against the rock. Blinding light bursts forth from the point of collision followed by a flickering glimpse of a gigantic metal door.

“—looking at,” Bo-Katan finishes quietly, watching Ahsoka swing herself higher to attack another portion of the canyon wall where the next segment of warding is hidden.

There is something undeniably satisfying about seeing the door materialize as the wardings cloaking it are destroyed. Every precise strike of Ahsoka’s sabers brings Din one step closer to reuniting with his soulmate.

As if spurred by the mere thought of her, fear ripples across the bond like a gust of icy wind, stopping his heart cold. His angel is terrified. Din reaches out as far as the bond will allow in its fragile state, trying to get her attention by pulling at it and shouting her name, but none of his attempts breach the storm of panic.

“She needs me,” he mutters to himself, stepping forward with clenched fists. His vision narrows until all he can see is the door in front of him, an obstacle that must be dealt with. “She needs my help.”

“Wait,” Bo-Katan calls out, but her voice sounds as if it’s coming from thousands of miles away. “Ahsoka isn’t finished with the warding yet!”

If he were capable of rational thought in that moment, he would have heeded her warning. As it is, he summons his power into the palm of his hand, the darkness inside of him crowing in wicked delight. He winds his arm back, preparing to slam his fist against the door, only for a whipcord to wrap around his wrist with an audible zip.

He’s pulled backwards onto the ground, breath knocked from his lungs as he lands with a heavy thud. Bo-Katan appears not a second later and pins him in place by straddling his waist. The darkness is demanding he push her aside, knowing with absolute certainty the reaper is no match against him, and it takes all his strength to wrestle the urge under control.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She glares at him, eyes resembling green flames eager to incinerate him.

“I—” he rasps, breathing heavily. His hand starts trembling, a burning itch under his skin. “I can feel her fear. She needs me.”

Bo-Katan blows out a long, frustrated breath. “Well, shit.” She jostles him then, forcing his head to momentarily clear as his helmet smacks the ground. “Look, soulmates are soulmates for a reason, right? I heard it’s like being two halves of the same whole. So if your soulmate is anything like you, she’s not going to give up without a fight. You have to trust she can take care of herself right now. That she’ll be fine.”

Din bristles. Trust is not the issue here. There is no one he trusts more than his angel—not Bo-Katan, not Ahsoka, not even Kuiil. The issue is he’s being asked to deny the instinct to shield her from danger which is woven into every cell of his being.

“She’ll be fine.” The words come out sounding sharp around the edges, cutting his tongue like shrapnel. “Everything will be fine.”

Bo-Katan disconnects the whipcord and rises to full height, apparently satisfied by his agreement. Din pushes himself onto his feet at a slower pace, his hand still shaking as if it's electric. He looks down at it, noticing for the first time the flesh is gone, replaced entirely by shadow. His expression tightens as he observes the change, realizing the black tendrils are slowly creeping up towards his wrist.

An alarm rings out, reverberating off the canyon walls like an explosion. Din’s gaze snaps up just as Ahsoka lands on the ground in a defensive crouch. Now that it's been fully unveiled, the door bears a striking resemblance to ones he’s seen at military fortresses across the galaxy, ridiculously massive to intimidate enemies and impenetrable from outside attacks. It makes sense, he thinks with a scoff, someone as power-hungry as Gideon claiming an abandoned base as their lair. Without the wardings, Din is able to detect the massive number of souls gathering on the other side, resembling vermin crawling over one another in their haste to arm themselves.

He searches for his angel’s soul, even just a glimpse of her bright light, only for his powers to instead encounter a massive cloud of dark, negatively-charged energy within a distant corner of the underground tunnel system. It fills an entire room, prohibiting him from sensing if anyone is inside. There is something strangely familiar about the energy, like he’s encountered its essence before, but he can’t recall the specifics of when or where.

“It’s time.”

Ahsoka’s voice reels his focus back to his physical surroundings. He notices the way her grip on her sabers tightens in anticipation and out of the corner of his eye Bo-Katan withdraws her blasters from their holsters.

The bottom of the door begins to raise with an earsplitting groan, but the mercenaries only wait the minimum amount of time it takes to pass under without hitting their heads to start charging forward.

Every mortal has a beginning and an end just like everything else in the galaxy. These mercenaries are no exceptions, having long sealed their fates when they agreed to accept Gideon’s payment. So when Din’s shadowy hand phases through a man’s chest and tears his heart out of its cavity, staining the white salt under their feet crimson as blood bursts from the vacant hole, Din tells himself he’s simply fulfilling destiny.

He repeats it when he discharges an assault of whistling birds, each one puncturing the throats of each target they encounter with a shrill warcry. And also when he rips a devaronian’s horn out of his head, a fragment of skull and bits of brain matter still gruesomely attached.

Again and again, with each permanently silenced voice and every shattered fragile bone, destiny is fulfilled.

Din would be lying if he said he’s never wondered what it would be like to die. To pass on from this world into a new realm for him to explore. He’s imagined the idyllic afterlife mortals have written poems and novels about, describing it as a blissful safe haven where sorrow and tragedy have no definition because they do not exist. He’s familiar with their opinions of damnation’s appearance, too, as an infernal place of fire and brimstone and screaming.

They were wrong about that.

Damnation is not a distant hell. It is found in an underground lair on Crait.

Instead of flames and sulfur, a Cupid’s blood is split and a soulmate bond is snapped in half.

Instead of screaming, a madman laughs.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” Gideon says through his chuckles, hauling himself onto his feet. His voice is an abrasive rasp, as if he’s shredded his vocal cords by screaming. “I’ve had to be patient, wait to find your weakness so I could catch your attention. It’s a shame, really, she had to be the one you fell for. She was quite the little spitfire.”

Din stares at his soulmate’s motionless body, frozen in place. Please, he pulls at his severed half of the bond, resolutely ignoring how cold it feels. Open your eyes, angel. Don’t leave me. Please.

There is no response. Just heartbreaking silence.

“I sense your anger, your hurt, and grief. Those are mortal emotions.” The Seraph grimaces in disgust, then lets out a low hiss when he agitates the wounds on his face. “By living amongst their kind you’ve forgotten your true potential. You are not their equal, Death. You are their superior. Immortals are meant to be better than them. To rule over every aspect of their pitiful lives.”

“I don’t want to rule anyone,” Din says, dragging his eyes away from his angel to glare at Gideon. Both his hands begin to shake as his mind plunges into a gaping abyss of remorse and despair. “I just want a life with her.”

“Even dead, she continues to blind you.”

Din snarls viciously in response. His control is pushed closer to the brink, holding on by mere fingertips, and darkness engulfs the entire room as a result.

The glow of the Darksaber persists, reflecting off his beskar and Gideon’s armor. It reminds him of moonlight, and he thinks for all that Bo-Katan warned him about the weapon’s sinful qualities, she did not mention its beauty. Even Ahsoka’s vision had failed to truly capture its radiance, just as a holovid can never compete with a face-to-face conversation.

His powers are drawn to the Darksaber. The energy it emits matches the one encountered earlier when searching the tunnels for his angel’s aura. This close, there is no ignoring its familiarity, not when his brain feels seconds away from exploding.

“I used to believe love conquers all,” Gideon prattles on, seemingly oblivious to Din’s torment. “I chose it as the Cupid motto because I thought there was nothing mortals cared more about than the health and happiness of their loved ones. Only after our fateful encounter did the Lightsaber reveal to me the truth.”

Lightsaber? Din’s head jerks up to stare at him, biting back a wince when the throbbing in the back of his mind intensifies at the movement. Does Gideon not realize the weapon has transformed?

By connecting Ahsoka’s claim that Gideon didn’t fully understand the consequence of corrupting the Lightsaber with Bo-Katan’s explanation that the Darksaber deceives its wielder, the answer is an obvious one: he doesn’t.

Gideon mistakes Din’s confusion for interest and his lips slowly curl into a smile. “Mors aeterna. It means—”

“Death is eternal.” The translation slips unbiddenly from Din’s lips before he even realizes his mouth has opened.

“There is no one more feared or respected than you. But for what reason? What have you done to earn your reputation?” Gideon demands, spit flying as his anger flares. “You are no more than the universe’s favorite puppet. Mindlessly obedient to its every demand.”

Hearing the truth always hurts, but hearing it from Gideon is especially torturous. Din’s creed to the universe has dictated his actions the entirety of his existence. He never fought against its orders, never thought of his own desires as more important than what it wanted.

Until he matched with his soulmate. She changed his priorities and shifted the center of his entire world by revealing to him even Death could experience love.

There had been no hesitation when he broke his creed for her.

And he doesn’t hesitate breaking Ahsoka’s promise now.

“I just murdered your soulmate right in front of you and you do nothing. Did you ever love her at all?”

“I do.”

Din summons every trace of power and darkness he possesses and combines them together within his core—a volatile, pulsating mass of pure chaos. His beskar armor starts to crack and chip away, unable to withstand the increasing pressure.

He thinks of his angel’s smiling face, the sound of her laughter, how bright her soul shines, and he thinks all those things are gone now. Not even a chance to say goodbye.

“More than anything.”

And Death lets go.

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#death and an angel #my fic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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caxsthetic · 4 years ago

Text

Let The Storm In

Kita Shinsuke x F!Reader

Unfurling: The times Kita Shinsuke avoided his feelings, and the moment he realized they were always there.

Part 1 ⇛ Pt.2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Every time he woke up in the morning; one thing that he did was thank the universe. For life always threw a lot of good things every second he breathed in. Morning greetings from his grandmother, counting all the stuff to brought for school, serene breakfast filled with lovely atmosphere—

Every single day, nothing was amiss, nothing goes out of plan.

Because he knew things that he should embrace, and things that he should evade.

Once he was seated inside his classroom, he would never take his eyes off of the teacher. One hundred percent of his attention would be solely on either the lecture or any kind of information that was out from the adult. But he didn't know why he had to look outside the window today.

He saw you. You, the girl who was late on your first day of school. Your body slipped through the school gate that was almost closed by the security, and you ignored all the shouting in unison, assuming that you were not late since you could still go inside without begging the teacher to let you in.

Your hair was a mess, teeth clamping on the bread that would fall at any moment. You were an absolute mess, like a storm that barged through everything in your way. There was nothing about you that screamed good news.

First thing that passed his mind was the fact that he did not want to cross paths with you. The second he saw how chaotic you were, he took notes inside his heart to keep some distance, somehow knowing that once he knew you, his life would be filled with a whirlwind of events.

But then you looked up, eyes locked with him.

It was as if the time had stopped, either for you or for him. The petals from the cherry blossoms tree that fell out because of the wind made the ordinary circumstance feel so surreal.

That was until a pebble slipped below your shoes.

In a split second, your whole body was thrown forward. And he was there inside his classroom, eyes widened to see such a powerful looking girl had her face flat with the ground.

"Kita?"

He couldn't look away, feeling his breath hitched when you didn't move an inch.

"Kita Shinsuke?"

He blinked, orbs focusing back to the classroom, his gaze greeted by everyone. Students and the teacher had their eyes on him, one of the members of Inarizaki VBC, someone that never made any odd behaviour on the record.

One of his eyebrows raised a little, wondering the reason behind the attention that he got right now—until he looked at himself.

He didn't even realise as he stood up from his chair the second you kissed the ground. It was as if his mind only focused on what happened outside, his body moved without control as the only thing in his mind was you.

You.

He didn't answer the call from his teacher, making the entire class widen their eyes. Kita Shinsuke never ignored a teacher before, it was as if he was possessed as he darted his eyes to the school ground where you once were.

And he could feel how his shoulders had slumped the moment he knew you were not there anymore.

"Kita?"

"Yes, sensei?"

"Are you alright?"

He swallowed a huge lump, eyes flickered between the school ground and the teacher. Strange, how someone could make such an impact. He just saw you for maybe ten seconds, he didn't even know your name.

Yet his mind was predominated by the thought of you, and this bizarre feeling made him frown, since it was the first time he ever felt like this.

"I am alright, sensei."

"Then sit down."

It was just the first few minutes he saw you, and yet, he was already in trouble. Not really a problem, but the teacher would think there was something wrong with him. If by just seeing you could make him act like this... Then he didn't want to know you at all.

He wouldn't let you in, that was what he promised himself to.

»»————-　♔　————-««

"So, mind telling me what happened?" Lunchtime became his usual peaceful moment, the time when he enjoyed all the food that nature provided. But today, apparently his friend couldn't stop pestering him, "I heard from Omimi that you behaved strangely this morning."

He let out a small sigh, resting the chopsticks in front of him with the tips to the left. Ojiro was impatient, and he knew about it. His best friend was always so curious about what happened to him that was out of his ordinary routine.

"It was nothing that should be remembered." His voice sounded flat as he said it, hand gently dabbed his lips with a handkerchief.

"Really? You literally just ignore a teacher, what's gotten into you?" The wing spiker snickered, resulting in him to throw a deadpanned look. Instead of quiet down like how his kouhai did when they received such a gaze, his friend's snicker turned into a boisterous laugh, "You know that look wouldn't work for me."

"I know," He sighed once again, his mind coming back to you, forcefully. After this morning incident he didn't think about you anymore (at least not all the time). But now as his friend reminded him of the incident, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to you once again.

"Really, nothing happened right?"

The voice that sounded so mischievous before now lingered with worry. Afraid that something serious happened to him. He was starting to continue his lunch once again, but the question made him stop midair.

"Nothing hap-"

"Oh shush! Don't make such a ruckus, you dumbass!"

The door to the cafeteria slammed open by the Miya twins, and the familiar voice made him groan internally. Sometimes he just wanted to have one day filled with peace, just one day. Yet as long he breathed the same air as the twins, his life would always be filled with fuss.

"Can both of you just shut up?"

The entire cafeteria went silent when a stranger's voice rang behind the two handsome players. Atsumu gasped at the retort, his hand rested on his chest dramatically as he glared at you,

"Fucking excuse me?"

"Shut up, Atsumu. Fill your mouth with food, not profanities."

The other twin snorted from the remark that you gave to the setter, feeling like he was in a winning side,

"You too, Osamu. You know he just loves making you mad, why bother noticing him when you can just eat instead? He would stop, at least he would until lunch ended."

"Oh my god. that's genius."

Everyone was flabbergasted from what unfolded in front of them. There was this one time someone complained over the commotion between the two, and they ended up being humiliated on the spot by the setter.

But somehow, not you.

You were so loud as you laughed and dragged the twins on one of the tables (that always empty since people knew it was reserved by the Miya twins, Suna, and Ginjima). Your mouth just wouldn't shut, there was always something rolling down from your lips, and Kita watched you with a little annoyance that exasperated his mind.

What he didn't realise was even if he felt like he would never want to know more about you, was the fact that he couldn't look away from your figure.

Still, his friend noticed it anyway.

»»————-　♔　————-««

"Manager?" Kita Shinsuke always came off like the manager of the team for the first two year he was in the team. He worked fine alone for all these time, so why now the coach suddenly accepted a manager?

"Yes. Manager." The coach had his arms folded in front of his chest as he eyed the captain, "I feel like we need it. After all, Osamu was the one who recommended her. And I think the team needed some change of atmosphere."

Change. Why bother a routine that flows greatly for the past years with another thing that could possibly ruin it?

"May I know who she is?"

"(L/n) (F/n), apparently she just moved from Tokyo. Osamu thinks highly of her, even though he didn't really show it." Kita could only nod at this, somehow he had a bad feeling, knowing that she was acquainted with the twins.

"Something on your mind?"

The captain shook his head a little, "It was nothing, coach. So, when will she start to be our manager?"

"Ah, it would be today."

As if on cue, the door to the gymnasium slammed open. Everyone immediately had their eyes focused on the figure who stood at the door. There you were, the trouble, the change, the mystery that he couldn't pinpoint why you had to forcefully slip in his life—no matter how many times he prayed not to cross paths with you.

A cheeky grin plastered on your face; one that screamed confident. Atsumu chuckled at the vision of you, standing there with your left hand on your waist as if you owned the place.

Kita averted his gaze from you in an instant, didn't want to catch your attention. At least not now (or basically forever if that could work), he would stall as long as he could. But it was as if luck left him in the dust when he could see you walk towards his direction from the corner of his vision.

"Hello, coach!" You greeted the older man with a wide smile on your face, Doesn't it hurt? To smile like that? His eyes scrutinized your entire figure as you had a conversation with the coach. There was something warm about you that somehow made everyone enjoy talking to you.

People drawn to you, like you were some kind of chocolate cookies made by a lovely grandmother, fresh from the oven. And by minutes it was empty already, since either adults or children were scrambled to taste the warm feelings.

But unlike everyone else, he took a step backward. He still didn't want to interact with you as he kept reminding himself that you radiated chaos at the same time, not just some innocent warmth, and he shouldn't become too attached to such a thing in his life.

Yet you turned around to face him with a gentle smile that never shown before, replacing the cheeky grin.

And he swore that a storm never looked so enticing.

No, like I would fall for that. With his usual flat look on his face, he just nodded a little, at least giving you some respect. He expected you to maybe nod at him too, then turned around to face the coach once again. But no, your eyes glimmered, as if by just him acknowledging you made your heart burst with joy. Strange.

So if you didn't want to leave, then maybe he was the one who should. Without waiting for another second to pass, he turned around to gather everyone, getting ready for practices today.

What he didn't know was how you immediately had a pained look on your complexion.

"Don't mind him, he's always like that." You jolted a little when the warm, mature voice from your coach flowed in the air. Turning around, he gave you a reassuring smile, "It's alright, you have done nothing wrong."

You calmed down in seconds, eyes darted back to the captain of the team. Your neighbours, the twins, had told you everything about the dreadful player. How he never smiled (at least not in front of them), rarely showed some kind of emotions, as if he was just a robot.

They warned you already to never take anything he said or did by heart, but you couldn't help it, you were someone that contemplated everything. So to know that you would work together with someone like him, you had to prepare yourself for everything that may come.

And with a little fire inside your heart that flickered higher whenever you saw him, it didn't help with this circumstance you were in. Not at all.

»»————-　♔　————-««

"I made some lemon water!" Just like a month ago, everyday, you came to the gymnasium with such force, slamming the door open with the usual grin that never withered. The entire team gulped down, knowing the fact how lemon water tasted; weird,

They were all silent, some giving you thumbs up to at least appreciate what you did for the team. And Ojiro, as the kindest person he has ever been, thanked you verbally. While everyone cringed inside their head, you knew one thing that they would love, "And I made you all some onigiri for snacks after practice!"

"Onigiri?" Dashing towards you, the opposite hitter immediately carried the box that you brought. He raised one of his eyebrows when he realised the weight, "This is quite heavy. You brought this all by yourself?"

"From the parking lot to here, yes." You put your hands on his shoulders, making a small train. "Come on, come on, please put it near the bench, Osamu!"

Everyone chuckled with how you could make everything become interesting. Usually, they would just gather around, practice, take a break, practice, clean the gymnasium and locker room, then go back home to have their long rest for the day.

But now with you here with them, they could see how everything changed. The entire team loves that. They adore how you could lift the spirit by just being there.

Well, everyone except him.

Kita felt so uneasy ever since you became the manager of Inarizaki VBC. It was tiresome for him as he waited for you to open the gymnasium door with whatever shenanigans you prepared for the day.

The second day, you came with speakers, the next day you came with coupons to eat outside, the other day you even brought a fox. Yes, a real fox.

"I found him in the bushes when I walked here!" Your skin was covered with scrapes and bruises, making everyone run to you with a worried look on their faces, "I am fine, I am fine! But this little one needed some ointment, can I grab some from the aid kit?"

You were just a ball of sunshine, one that could make everyone feel so light with just you being there. The positivity that you radiated never once lessening, no matter how bad you looked physically, no matter how the scrapes and bruises could leave some scars on your skin.

And sometimes, he would wonder to himself, what would happen if he let you in into his life?

You eyed the reaction from the entire team, glad that at least they seemed enthusiastic already, even before the practice started. But no, not him, never him. You bit your lips when you met his gaze, the gaze that always pierced right through your soul.

You were not blind, you could see how he never wanted to do anything with you. He always put some spaces between you and him, averting your gaze once in a while, it was as if he was disgusted by just the mere sight of you.

It was not like he hated your guts, no. He appreciated what you did for the team, he acknowledged everything that you did—in his own way.

Kita made sure to put some distance on you, because he still believed that if he pulled you just a little bit closer, his life would change. He didn't know at that time what changed you could possibly give for him.

But years living his life by playing safe, years to never let any types of calamity in, it was all good.

So he turned his back on you once again, focusing on the other things that needed to be done. For the past weeks, he was successful enough to not let you in.

»»————-　♔　————-««

"Kita-san," His pupil dilated for a second, recognising the voice that rang through the empty gymnasium, "May I talk to you for a second?" No, please leave me alone.

"Yes?" But his voice betrayed him right now. He was just done cleaning up the locker room, ready to get home. You usually went home with everyone, with the company of the twins. For the past four months, at least you never missed the chance to walk with them.

So he was a little bit taken aback when you decided to stay. Purposely, with the intention just wanting to talk to him.

"Can we walk out first?" Your voice was timid, a total different when it compared to your usual tone. It was the voice that you only gave to him, the only intonation you used when he was around, "The security usually closes the gate around this time."

He knew that, he knew everything about this school. After all, he was already here way before you barged through the school gate that one particular day. But he just gave you a slight nod before telling you to wait outside while he checked up the gymnasium one last time.

One thing that he never wanted to go through was having a conversation with you, alone.

Yet here he was anyway, walked side by side with the one person he always tried to avoid. He didn't know what you wanted by dragging him like this, he thought that you would start talking the second both of you were out of the school area. But no.

The walk was quiet, as the only thing that could be heard was the footsteps that belonged to you and him. Night breeze touched your hair mischievously, making it a hell mess with just minutes walking with him.

It had been ten minutes, and never once you parted your lips to say something. Did you get tired over managing the team? Or did the twins get you mad by their actions? Was that the reason you walked with him today instead of with them?

"You know, I never saw you as a scary person, Kita-san."

He turned his head to face you, wondering where that judgment came from. There was a little smile on your face, the gentle smile that was always there when you talked to him. But there was something off about your smile today, and for the first time in forever, he felt lost, "Do you want to know why?"

He wasn't supposed to be here, to be near you, to talk to you, to let you in.

"Why?"

But he couldn't help it, as curiosity started to eat him alive by the moment that passed.

"Goodness, I didn't expect you to ask why." You snorted a little, really unlady-like, "I didn't know actually." Your finger fiddled with the hem of your jacket, feeling like an idiot all of a sudden. Well, you were indeed an idiot compared to him—courtesy from Atsumu.

He waited as he knew that there must be something more that you wanted to tell him, "Maybe because I always look up on you." You continued, "From Atsumu and Osamu, I know how you always care for everyone wellbeing, I know no matter how impassive you look from the outside, you are actually a huge softie who tries to make sure everyone is in their best state."

This was the longest time you had ever talked to him. Accurately, it was the longest time you talked to him without him turning his head and leaving you there on the spot.

He could feel blood rushing through his cheek, thinking that it must be from the cold that struck his skin. He tried to twist his mind, that whatever he felt right now—the warm, heavenly feeling—it wasn't caused by you. No, a storm wasn't supposed to feel like this.

You stopped walking when the two of you reached the intersection. You and him live a little bit far from each other, so if you wanted to say another thing for him, this was your last chance.

Your face lit up by the streetlight, with your hand bawled into a fist, gaze pierced into him, you tried to compose yourself.

"..."

He widened his eyes when he heard the words that you said. Rolling from your lips as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you have been practising the same sentence over and over again in front of a mirror.

Then just like that, you bowed at him—around ten seconds, he counted it all.

Your gentle smile never once left your face. You waved him goodbye and turned your back on him, leaving him there without giving him the chance to talk.

Was it the same feeling that you felt when he decided to just leave after he was done notifying you about the club's information? Helpless, like you wanted to burst but nothing came up as you knew the other person wouldn't listen anyway.

With hearts being tampered, mind clouded with fear, he just stood there as if he just lost the most important person in his life. Maybe, maybe he just did.

Shaking his head, he turned his back towards the opposite direction from where you went. Head hanging low as he realised he never prepared himself for something like this his whole life.

He walked mindlessly, strolling the sidewalk as he tried not to bump into anyone that occupied the way. His hand clutched the fabric in his chest, wanting to rip it apart. It was too much, a sickening feeling that he never felt before.

Kita was sure that he never let you get too close to him. You were just a storm that could make all of his routine changed, the unpredictable force that possibly made his life altered completely by just letting you slide into his life.

He should have said no. He should have said that he needed to go somewhere, anywhere that made you turn your head and leave him alone from the moment you asked him to talk.

Should he run? Should he turn his back and tell you all the words that have been stuck on his throat since the words came out from your lips? What did you want him to say after receiving such an earnest confession from you?

"I always admired you, Kita-san."

Yet he kept moving forwards, never once sparing another glance to the back. His mind, body, and soul didn't synchronize as his heart screamed for him to turn around, to just embrace whatever hail life would throw at him the second he let you in.

But then again, why would he chase a storm in the first place?

»»————-　♔　————-««

"Don't you think you are a little bit harsh to her?" The puff of air emerged in front of his lips every time he breathed out. "I don't know what makes you think it was the best for you to rarely acknowledge her presence."

The captain decided to answer his friend's question with silence. Both hands tucked inside his pockets as his mind pondered, Isn't it obvious?

Ojiro could only let out a long sigh when his friend decided to keep silent. He brought his mind back to the time he first saw you in the cafeteria with the twins. Everyone could see that you were a practical sun, someone that could catch up with the famous students even though you were new at that time.

And one thing, one thing that he never erased from his brain was how the captain looked at that moment. There was an awe in his usual expressionless facade, some kind of amusement, appeared the second your voice roared the entire room. But it died down in second, as if it was never there.

"She's a storm," Ojiro raised one of his eyebrows, giving his full attention to the man beside him. He was always confused, about almost anything that his friend said, "And I know how storms work, they come to wreck everything. Everything would change once you let someone like her in, either for better or for worse."

"So you just feel that keeping her away from you was the best thing to do?"

"Yes," He knew too well that what he said was full of nonsense by now, "Because by then I don't have to think about what would happen if I let her in."

"Aren't you curious about the possibility that may come?"

"Why should I if I've already enjoyed my life all this time?" But did he really?

Kita gazed at the tall spiker who now had this mixed expression on his face. One moment his friend looked so happy, like he finally put the pieces together of the reason why he seemed to avoid you. But in a split second it changed to a forlorn look. There was a glint of sympathy as he looked at him.

He didn't know why his friend looked at him like that. But one thing that he knew was how he didn't like that gaze, not at all.

The walk home was filled with silence once again, no one spoke anything as both of them were just trying to enjoy the scenery of their neighbourhood. The river appeared still, yet it flowed under the thin layer of ice. Even though the air only filled with the coldness and the ground was frozen, it glitter with the gift of each ray.

"(Y/n), slow down!" The third-years were familiar with the voice, hurried footsteps could be heard from behind them.

"Don't be a slowpoke, Samu!" Kita turned around, finding you dragging the opposite hitter to god knows where. You never changed, just like months ago when he first saw you on the school ground. Your face never showed any kind of sadness, at least, at least not when the grey haired twin was by your side.

The orange hue of rays adorned your whole figure as you ran, resulting in your smile to look even more magical. You were just a storm, he reminded himself, There was only chaos if he let you get closer.

Your face that was looking at Osamu, now turned to face the road ahead, making your eyes locked with his. And the orbs that were filled with joy and happiness, now just coated with pure surprise.

"Oh! Kita-san! Ojiro-san!" Even since months he gave you the same cold stare, even since months he acknowledged your words and opinion with a simple nod, even since the day after that one fateful night where he pushed you away further than ever.

The smile never wavered from your facade, and you always gave him the same warm look.

"It's a few days before nationals, I hope you guys have a good rest!"

"We will, we will," Ojiro answered with a deep chuckle following after his words, "You looked happy. Happier than usual I mean. Something happened?"

He expected you to share some information about how this little cafe finally opened, or maybe you would shout and tell them you won the onsen coupon that could be used for the entire team, the information that he got from hearing what you said for the past few days.

It was not like Kita could erase everything about you. No matter how many times he tried to avoid any contact, he always remembered every little thing that came up from your lips. He had it imprinted on his mind, even the things that you blurt from the first few days of your time being their manager.

"Am I that easy to read? But, yeah! This little cafe near my house is finally open!" He felt pleased. Inside his heart, he was beaming due to his successful prediction about the words that you would say, "Though, it's not the only thing that made me this happy, I guess."

Your voice trailed over, gazing softly to the man that had his hand interlaced with yours, "This boy apparently had a crush on me for the longest time, and..." You let out a deep breath, as if finally let go of something that you had been holding on for the past months, "And he finally dared to ask me out."

You were just a storm.

He already made sure not to let you get closer to him.

But why did he still have this whirlwind inside his mind after all this time?

His breath wavered once the statement rolled down from your tongue. You looked at him, with something lingering there in your shiny orbs, something that he didn't know what it was all about. Or maybe, something that he never wanted to concede since that night.

Winter was always cold, but this moment as you stared at him with the same old look that you always gave to him, he felt like it was the worst winter that he ever had. Your gaze was still the warm and gentle look that everyone treasured.

But right now as you stood there in front of him, hand engulfed by someone else, he could only taste the cold.

"Oh?" His friend was shocked, and it really showed from how his face contorted. A worried glance thrown towards him before flickering back to the couple in front of them, "Whoa, congratulations!" But somehow, he knew that it was coming.

He couldn't hear the boisterous laugh that aired right in front of him. His eyes locked on your face who kept stealing glances, like you were still yearning for him. But at the same time, as if you said your farewell, and this would be the last time he received such adoration from you.

Why did he just see it now? From all the times you had been their manager, why now he just realised the look inside your eyes? You were a storm, and he never let you in because he was afraid of what you would bring to him.

But it was always there. The thing that you wanted to bring in his life, it was always there, hiding behind your smile, back and forth shown in your eyes, sometimes overlapped by the kindness and fervor that you gave to everyone.

Yet the second you laid your eyes on him, it was just one emotion. Love. A pure adoration that you offer for him to take, but he never let you in.

No matter how many times he wanted to.

In the next second you already waved your hand towards him and his friend, with the other rested gently in the warm grasp of the man who always had his eyes on you. Kita's facade never changed, as he still looked at you with the same straight expression, a contrast to the blister that he felt in his heart right now.

He ignored the pitiful gaze that was given by his friend, he ignored the frigid temperature that nature greeted him with, he ignored the droplets of tears that were cascading down his face at this very moment.

"Aran." He called out, voice a little bit wavered as he tried to control his emotion. His friend only answered with a small hum, enlightening him that he was there, enlightening him that he listened, "I think it was too late. To keep the storm away,"

"What?"

He chuckled bitterly as his gaze never once left your figure. You looked so happy every time you were with the opposite hitter, a real contrast to every time he was with you.

Of course, what did he expect after all? Osamu always gave you the same warmth that you gave to everyone, Osamu always greeted you with a smile, acknowledging your presence, appreciating every little thing that you did.

Whereas him? He just gave you a cold response, muttering a little thank you and got back to his routine without sparing you another glance.

He thought by doing that, he kept the storm away. He thought by making sure he never had a proper conversation with you, it would keep himself safe. He thought by pushing you away from his life as much as he could, you wouldn't be here, right inside his heart.

But one thing that he forgot about a storm—

"She's always there, Aran."

Was the fact that it struck forcefully, without notice.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tagged Lovelies:

@muffins-puffins @vlovers-world @blacckdiamondposts @for-ests @atsunflower @miyatsunami @iwaixiumi @hihiq @the-fandom-ness @quirksandbreaths @rintarhoe @verbluehte @simp4tsukkii @ladyalicevii @evermorehaikyuu @clowninfortodoroki @koutaroulovebot @fitriiaw @mistypoison @aquariarose @greenleaf-fantasy @t-amajiki @kuraomi @haikyuuwithadashofart @starbybokuto @shiningstar-byulxx @nerdyphantomlady @raequii

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #shinsuke kita x reader #kita shinsuke #haikyuu kita shinsuke #haikyuu #kita shinsuke imagine #kita imagine #kita shinsuke fluff #kita shinsuke angst #kita shinsuke scenario #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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khaotic-kitsunes · 4 years ago

Text

Alleyways

...I have absolutely no regrets over this. None what-so-ever and neither should anyone else because this glorious scenario was freaking fun to write. Probably even better to read, I dunno, I can never read a scenario that I’ve written again until I’ve forgotten it completely. Otherwise I start to remember the words a second before I read them and honestly it’s infuriating.

Anyways~

I hope you like the Dabi dose of today and again, sorry about the mishap! One was put in drafts by accident and this one I just forgot to press the post button until I went back to my tumblr tab to scroll through my dashboard...hahah

Whoopsie?

🥃 AO3 🥃

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

“Hey there, little cutie…what’re you doing with a guy like that huh? Why don’t you come with me? I’ll show you what a real Alpha is like!”

Dabi let out a low growl of displeasure from beside you as you walked through the dimly lit street together, his arm wrapped around your waist and keeping you close to his side; allowing you to soak up the warmth his quirk allowed him to produce.

“You’re letting them get to you…” You trailed off softly, peeking up at your grouchy boyfriend when you felt his fingers dig into your waist and while it wasn’t painful, it certainly brought you no joy to see how upset he was getting over a few drunken morons cat-calling you.

“Drop. It.” The words came out as an angry snarl of annoyance, not necessarily directed at you; yet at the same time, you felt the effects of your Alpha’s displeasure, a low whine spilling past your lips that still showed signs of a faint bruise. It was from Dabi’s most recent rut; he had gotten a little carried away with you and bit harder than usual. Nothing that wouldn’t heal.

“Don’t whine at me, (Name). You know I hate walking around here with you” He spared you a quick glance, his brows furrowing when he noticed how displeased you looked with his current mood; earning a quiet click of his teeth. An upset Omega was never good, even he knew that much.

“So, what? I’m the problem?” His eyes widened partially at your whimpered-out question, a string of uttered curses escaping him before he stopped walking to face you properly, calloused and scarred hands gripping your arms tightly.

“Oi! That isn’t what I meant, stupid little…” He trailed off into a growl before loosening his grip on your arms, his shoulders slumping as he let go of his anger at the people that tried to take you from him; he needed to be calm to deal with you. Both of you knew that.

“I don’t like sharing you with everyone. You’re mine. Those assholes are lucky I don’t murder them for even looking at you!” His possessive growl calmed you almost instantly, a soft snicker escaping you and while the noise settled Dabi’s fear of having to deal with an emotional Omega; he didn’t appreciate your laughter.

“Think this is funny? Little shit” He scowled, reaching up to pinch your cheek, pulling firmly until you let out a noise of discomfort; resulting in him releasing you and moving back beside you, his arm returning to its’ place around your waist. Keeping you close.

“…Hey, hey, if you’re getting so wound up about this, then that must mean you love me. Right? Alpha?” Your questioned received a grunt in response, the two of you slowly making your way through the almost empty street; the few people that were around, staring directly at you with looks you recognised from before Dabi had claimed you as his Omega.

“If even a single one of those fuckers says anything to you, fucking anything, I’ll burn them alive…”

You snapped your head up quickly at his words, surprised at the vicious promise behind them; your Alpha was a strange one. He wasn’t overly kind, nor was he a good person, but you found that he took good care of you, as best he could really and every time he threatened such a degree of violence; it sent shivers down your spine. You did love when your Alpha used his quirk for you, there was nothing better in your mind; his greatest show of love was slaughtering people that he decided weren’t good enough to even look at you.

“Alpha~” You purred out the word softly, leaning into his side heavily while your hand went to his stomach, nails dragging over his muscles through the thin white shirt he had chosen to wear for your stroll throughout the neighbourhood.

He opened his mouth to respond to you as he turned his head to look down, but the moment he looked into your eyes, the words appeared to have escaped him. Instead, they were replaced with a deep, rumble of a growl that you hadn’t heard outside of the safety of your small apartment before; a growl that meant you were about to have his knot buried inside of you.

“Seriously?” Your head bobbed up and down in confirmation the instant the question left your Alpha’s mouth, causing an eager grin to tug at the corners of his lips; it appeared as though your Alpha wasn’t against the less-than-subtle hint that you had given him.

“Such a naughty little thing you are…come on baby, you want my cock? You’re gonna fucking get it.” His words were a hushed promise as he tightened his hold on your waist, practically dragging you over to a nearby alleyway, not a care in the world that the two of you were in a public place; in fact, it almost felt like this was Dabi’s own way of telling the other Alphas where to shove their offers.

“Is that a promise, Alpha?” You squealed when Dabi dropped his hand to slap your arse roughly, causing you to stumble into the wall he was about to fuck you against, the sound echoing down the empty little spot he had chosen; a reaction he seemed to appreciate, if his hungry stare was anything to go off of.

“You know damned well that it is…now lift that fucking dress for me if you’re really that desperate for my knot” Your cheeks flushed in response to his demand, hands moving to tug at the edge of your dress; it hadn’t been the best choice for the walk, considering how cold it was currently. However, it was working out for you currently.

You jolted in surprise when you felt a weight on your shoulders, looking back to see that Dabi had dropped his jacket over your shoulders, his scent enveloping you almost instantly and causing slick to start dripping down your folds.

“Keep it on” His words were a quiet, concerned instruction while his hands went to your arse, squeezing until you spread your legs for him as best you could, giving a cheeky little wiggle until he slapped you once again; a soft noise of pleasure slipping out. Though Dabi had heard it loud and clear, the sound making him grind himself up against you through his pants; his erection made painfully clear.

“Alpha…don’t tease me? Please…” Your whimper had him chuckling while he buried his head into the crook of your neck, his hands moving from your arse to deal with his pants; adjusting them just enough so that his aching cock was free and rubbing against you. Your panties were now the only thing keeping him from fucking you senseless and in that moment, you absolutely hated yourself for wearing them. Unnecessary things that they were.

“Are you beggin’ already?”

You huffed in response, pushing yourself back against him firmly in order to show your annoyance with him; a soft squeak echoing around the area when he tore your panties away from your body, allowing him to properly rub against you. You could feel the tip of his dick against your folds, nudging and rubbing just enough to let you know he was there but certainly not enough to satisfy you and your needs.

“Dabi, come on…that isn’t fu-” His hand covered your mouth while his other arm went around your waist, pressing you further into the wall as he began to bite at your neck; the parts he could access since his jacket was partially in the way.

“Shut up. You don’t get to tell me how to fuck you, (Name). You get what you’re given and you’ll fucking take it like a good Omega” He buried himself inside of you once he made his point, causing you to arch your back, a moan of relief muffled by his warm hand; preventing anyone else from hearing the noises that your Alpha refused to share.

“That’s better…fuck, that’s it, move your hips like that baby…make your Alpha happy” Dabi groaned quiet praise into your ear while he rocked his hips, trying his best not to completely lose his control with you. As much as he wanted to do such a thing, if he were to lose control out in the open like this, it might cause problems for the both of you and Dabi preferred to avoid that kind of situation.

You whimpered into his hand, grinding your hips back against him each chance you got, the feel of his not yet inflated knot against your folds driving you insane; you knew how good his knot felt and it was hard to resist the urge to sink yourself back onto it. The only problem with that plan, being that if you did dare to do such a thing; he would punish you for it.

Dabi liked his control over you, disobeying the unspoken rules between the two of you wouldn’t end well.

“Shh, I know baby. Believe me, I know how bad you want my knot…but you need to be a good girl, otherwise your next heat is going to be a hard one”

Your entire body shuddered from the warning he gave you, muffled moans beginning to grow louder as his control began to slip, his thrusts and bites getting rougher with each passing minute that he fucked you in the alleyway. He was finding it to be an impossible task, holding back with you when your body was so inviting; welcoming every little thing he did to you.

“Shit…shit, damn it!” Dabi cursed out loudly as he began to bite at the bonding mark you wore proudly on your neck, the sensitive and bruised flesh an instinctive target for his little shows of affection; alerting you to how agitated he was beginning to get.

“Fuck it. I’ll just fucking kill anyone that tries to fuck with us when I’m stuck inside you” Dabi groaned out his resolution before removing himself from your body, quickly spinning you around to face him before suddenly, you were lifted into his arms, legs going around his waist and your back slammed up against the brick wall you had just been pressed up against; his throbbing cock buried inside of you once again.

“I want to hear you baby girl. Moan for me, scream for me!” He snarled out his demand as he pressed his face against your chest, his teeth surprisingly sharp despite the material of your dress getting in the way of his bites; making you cry out loudly from all the pleasure he was showering you with.

“Dabi…Alpha! More, I want more…please!” You whined out loudly as he continued to thrust his hips, his hands remaining on your arse so that he could keep a steady pace; though his grip was tight enough to leave you whining in need. It was times like this you loved being with someone that had no morals, your Alpha didn’t care that he was fucking you where other people could hear and smell what you were doing, the only thing he was paying attention to; was the way you felt wrapped around his aching cock.

“Fucking hell…you’re such a greedy little Omega!” Dabi groaned out a laugh, throwing his head back as he pushed his knot inside of you, your loud shout of bliss music to his ears, he would never admit it sober; but he loved your reactions to his touches.

You weren’t like other Omegas that he had fucked, you weren’t just after your own pleasure, you weren’t just an easy slut. He had to work his arse off just to get in bed with you in the beginning and when he finally managed to, well he had been shocked to find out that you could take everything he had to give.

You were his perfect match and he had kept you ever since.

“Louder baby, I want the entire block to know whose cock is making you feel this good!”

You screamed out his name in response, baring your throat to him in submission while he continued to fuck you senseless; his knot throbbing and growing bigger as time passed, signalling that your Alpha was close to finishing. Just like you were. You could feel the familiar warmth beginning to build in the pit of your stomach, the pleasure rocking through your body; it was too much, having Dabi fuck you like this with the knowledge that everyone knew what you were doing but no one would be stupid enough to interrupt the two of you.

“That’s it…close, aren’t you? Squeezing down on me like that already? Is it that good a fuck, baby? Can’t keep up tonight?” You narrowed your eyes at his groaned-out taunts, tangling your fingers into his dark locks while your orgasm got closer and closer; you weren’t in the mood for him to be a complete asshole to you and you were about to make that clear.

“Just…shut up and knot me, Dabi! I wanna go home and nest…” You whimpered out, squeezing your eyes shut tightly while giving a harsh tug to his hair, screaming out his name when your orgasm finally hit; his knot swelling up inside of you once you started to squeeze down on him even more, his hot, thick seed filling you in a sudden rush.

Dabi bit down on your bonding mark roughly, chewing on the spot while rocking his hips as best he could while stuck buried balls deep inside of you, his mind slowly processing the words you had uttered.

“Nest…? Are you going into heat baby? Fuck…don’t worry, I’ll get you home soon. You can get nice and comfy so I can fill you up even more.”

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #touya x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #reader x dabi #reader x touya #reader x todoroki #omegaverse #alpha!dabi #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #scenario #smut #requests #cheeky kitsune

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greytoiletpaper · 4 years ago

Text

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). I present to you... Angst.

Drizzle | AO3

Chapter 2: Deluge

Felipe Garzonas falls.

Jason cannot find it in himself to care. The man was human garbage at best-

A shriek of anguish rents the air, a woman's, while the stalking man pounces on her and bays with his manic glee.

-and they were just going to let him go? No dice. Jason did not push him off the edge, but it’s still satisfying enough for him to know the man is gone now.

It is here, on this rooftop, that Jason understands that the horrors of the world can never be contained, only controlled. In what ways, he isn’t sure yet, but when he thinks of killing, all he can imagine is a figure adorned in a red helmet, ruthless and proud.

When Bruce takes Jason away from the scene, long crimson snakes flow off Garzonas’ body with the deluge, painting the face of Gotham.

Cass believes Jay when he says he didn’t kill Garzonas. He can lie like the best of them, but he can never hide anything from her. Bruce still doesn’t believe him even when she says as much.

“You’re a danger to yourself and the people around you,” Bruce is saying. Cold is the only way that Cass can describe his body.

For as long as she has been with Bruce, Cass has not thought of David. But looking at him now, a small, insidious part of the man that projects the urge to control (something she had only seen from David) starts to slip through. She is so thrown about what to think that she almost misses him firing Jay as Robin.

“No.”

“But Cass-.”

“No.”

Jason resists the urge to groan at his sister. Above them, the three names of his potential mothers are displayed clearly and brightly.

“I get why you don’t want me to. But think of what will happen if we manage to bring one! We could- we could-.”

“My brother,” Cass says, with finality. She gestures to the names (although ‘Sandra Wu-san’ in particular catches both their eyes). “Not theirs.”

Cass makes that stance she always does when she wants him to stop, her back hunched and her eyes pleading. He hates it when she does that, which is why he bites back a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone,” Cass has been trying harder to get her smile right. Her effort shows when she gives him a mega-watt grin when he relents.

“My family, love,” She says as she hugs him before leading him away to raid the freezer for Neapolitan.

Later that night, Jason leaves his copy of Huckleberry Finn on her nightstand. He has to make sure that she doesn't think he'd left her behind when he goes. As Jason leaves the window wide open, his sole companion is the rain for the first time in years.

Gotham feels it as it happens. As the madman clubs her boy over and over with his crowbar. She feels every bruise, every bone that fractures, every act of pure, unadulterated cruelty inflicted on Jason.

Her eldest cradles the body, surrounded by a field of debris and smoke left in the wake of the monster that is the Joker. She washes the blood away with her tears.

When Cassandra wakes to see her brother’s prized possession on her nightstand, she instantly knows and never lets it go, even as the sky opens up in time with her tears.

As the casket lowers into the earth, she absently notes no rain, not a cloud in sight. Somehow, in the void that is the Jason-shaped hole in her heart, she realises he would have hated it.

“I think… I want to have my burial when it rains. Gives a whole ‘nother meaning to bleary doesn’t it?” Jason had confessed that once, a slight chuckle drawing from his chest. It fades as fast as it came. He looked away, then. “I don’t think I’d rest in peace without it.”

Cassandra fills the silence with the hymns of her tears – droplets staining the well-loved pages of the last piece of her brother – and hopes that it will be enough.

In her mind, her efforts are for naught when they devolve into wails as the first shovelfuls of dirt encase the ebony coffin.

The first thing she sees when she enters the cave is- is the atrocious thing. All the noise in the cave seems to phase out. The squeaking of the bats. The banter between Dick and Babs. The low murmurs of Bruce and Alfred in the corner. All she can focus on is the caricature of her brother in full view of everyone in the Batcave. She looks at it, and the world becomes a sea of pink and brown and white. The uniform he died in still bloody and ragged; all her thoughts a cacophony of wailing; iron on her tongue; roaring in her ears; she feels nothing in her but pain.

Jason Peter Todd

A Good Soldier

She hates it. Hates it with a passion because Jason was so much more than a soldier. He was her Jay, her brother, everything; all she has left of him is a small paperback and this disgusting mockery of his memory.

But he’s Batman, and he grabs her by the arms and pins her, even as her legs kick out viciously. She headbutts him and manages to push him off, nailing him square in the jaw with her knee as she flips back.

“Cassandra-.” Batman starts.

“Mine,” She snarls, eyes blazing and her hand pushing Bruce away from her. Even with the pads of his armour, she knows it hurts. She turns to leave.

“Not Robin. My Jay. My Brother. My Jason.”

Standing in Jason’s room, Cassandra closes the window he left open. She notices a picture frame on his nightstand. It’s of them, Huckleberry Finn spread between their legs and their foreheads pressed together.

Cass curls into a ball and clutches his treasures to her chest, sobbing because there is no rain to fill the vacuum she’s found herself in.

Far, far away, a man between worlds shatters the dimensions. The ripple disturbs Gotham, but she cannot deny her love of the results.

Gotham watches as her prodigal son begins his dramatic return; rising from below to walk above once again.

“So, is it really true that you took down Troia when you were only thirteen? All on your own?” The new Robin, Tim, is okay. Really. Cassandra just can’t look him at and see someone else in the uniform. When she doesn’t answer, the boy seems to fidget nervously. She doesn’t even know what his eyes look like.

“I–I guess, since I’m here to be Batman’s new Robin, I was hoping I could be the Robin to –.”

Cassandra doesn’t even let the boy finish before she leaves.

Jason wakes up drowning. It’s not water that enters his lungs, but an unnatural, sickly green liquid that vexes and rots and makes his body feel like he’s on fire. Nandra Parbat is where he is when he’s calmed down from being dipped into the Lazarus Pit, trapped in a fortress of assassins that want to mould a Bat into one of them. It’s an entirely different League.

This time, Cass is not here to keep them away.

When she meets Steph, Cassandra is enamoured because the girl smiles and laughs (except she still isn’t the same, no one is), almost just like Jason. But there are slight differences between the girl and her brother. Her hugs are great, but they don’t feel right. She smells like lavender instead of the rain. Despite how much the girl likes to joke with her, not one of them manages to draw out her smile.

Cassandra holds onto the girl like a lifeline anyway.

What bone she can throw, Steph has an uncanny knack of finding things that others take ages to locate, which is helpful enough for right now since Tim is still missing. It doesn’t help when Steph reads that Tim is in a warehouse with none other than The Joker.

He’s practising his aim when she comes in, almost plucking the gun out of his hand. Jason grips the girl’s arm and flings her over his back. Rose Wilson, a wolfish grin plastered on her face and snowy hair fanning under them, doesn’t even look fazed.

“Wow Jace, if you wanted to pin me you could have just asked,” His only friend in this place is what keeps him sane; when the Joker of his nightmares haunts the edges of his mind, she is there to let him know it isn’t real. Despite how different they are, she’s a breath of fresh air in this hellhole they’re in. He should probably tell her how he feels.

“You’re such a fucking chicken-shit,” Is what comes out of his mouth instead. Rose only smirks at him, silver mane and eyes with almost the same mischief his sister had.

“Your aim still sucks balls by the way.”

He growls, raising his arm to let his gun do the barking.

Ranting and raving greet her as she sneaks in through a window, a litany of nonsense and stammers echoing around the warehouse. She drops from the catwalk as silently as she can, but the madman obviously still hears her as his head bends at an impossible angle to look right at her.

“Oh. Look who showed for quality time with Uncle Jay!” She doesn’t mean to, but Cassandra flinches, and the Joker’s twisted grin shifts. Big mistake. “Oh? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” It takes every inch of willpower in her not to rasp the words, but Joker sees through it regardless.

“What? Don’t like my name?” The Joker pouts, but it looks more like a sneer. “It’s just me yaknow? Your Uncle Jay.”

Another flinch, and the Joker steps closer, a snake in the reeds.

“Mister Jay,” He’s stalking closer now; her body won’t move. “JayJay.”

“Jaybird,”

“Jay,” She is so still as the Joker seems to tower over her, his sick grin crueller and sharper (David flashes in her mind) than any other time she has ever seen it. Poison flows from his mouth like saliva as he croons.

“That’s what you called him, isn’t it? When he was still here, your precious Robin. Not this -,” He gestures to Tim, who is wide-eyed and struggling. “-phoney replacement. Want me to-? Let me tell-.” The Joker stops, frowning at the ground before continuing, his voice aberrantly low. “When I beat him over and over with that crowbar – pink with blood and brown with dirt over the white of his skin –, do you want to know what he was saying?

“The only thing that came out of that pretty little mouth of his was how sorry he was that he was for leaving ‘Cass’ behind.” The madman leers at her. “Was that you? Cass? I gotta tell you, the whole apology shtick got really boring after a while, but…

“I’ll tell you one thing. Something you can keep between just you and your Uncle Jay,” He leans in close to her ear. “I think that our Jay is almost just like me now!”

The madman cackles, his eyes sick and twisted, and his body is nothing but mania. Something in Cassandra, strained and twisted for the past three years, finally snaps.

She strikes him, harsher than she’s struck anyone ever before. So severely, she can feel his ribcage snap. His flesh becomes mince under her fists. He stumbles and contorts as she overwhelms him with every piece of her fury. The gale-force that is Cassandra Todd blows through the Joker, who laughs and laughs and laughs.

The monster scrambles for his gun, suddenly slick and focused. Cassandra snaps off the comic ‘Pow!’ that sticks out of the muzzle when he fires it at her. She backhands his face with the full force of her knuckles, knocking him down, and all he does is chortle. The Joker’s body twists and squirms as he is pinned in place. She raises the broken end of the comic and skewers his leg into the ground.

The Joker’s mouth froths. His eyes are bloodshot as he becomes more depraved and maunders yet, he’s still fucking laughing. Laughing as his spittle flecks onto every surface around them when he thrashes. Laughing even as she clenches the sides of his head and pulls. Laughing even as they both feel his flesh strain and shear as she tries to tear it off. The part of her that has so vehemently denied killing now cries for bloodlust. For this is justice, this is vengeance, this is for her, Jay. Cassandra, with all her might, prepares to wrench off the monster’s head and-.

And Batman pushes her off him. Batman blocks her assault on his body when Cassandra rebalances herself. Batman protects the god damn fucking Joker. She roars with her rage, her grief, and doesn’t even feel the sedative that Tim plunges into her side until it’s too late.

Glaring at Bruce, at Batman, all she sees from his body is fear and concern and all the latter is directed at the death-worshipping monster he cradles in his arms. Absently, before it all goes to black, she thinks she should leave. Leave without Batgirl, without Jason, without everything she has ever cared for.

She does, and like her brother, the tears of Gotham are the only family she has left.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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katehuntington · 4 years ago

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Title: Black Dog - part three Word count: ±2700 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part three summary: Two leads point into different directions. Which one are the Winchester brothers going to follow? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 & @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

Dean gives his Chevrolet Impala a final clean up and looks at the end result. Ronny nods satisfied, too. “Good as new.” They mechanics carefully beat out the small dent in the lid and restored the paint with a polisher. The lock of the trunk took some time to replace, but now it closes perfectly.

“Thanks, man,” Dean says gratefully, offering him some money for the work. “Any time. Put that away. I owe you Winchesters more than that,” Ronny reminds him. “Sure you guys don’t want a beer?” Dean hesitates, but then shakes his head. “I’d love to catch up, but we should get going. The world isn’t rid of all evil motherfuckers just yet.” Ronny chuckles at that. “Fair enough. Good to see you again, though.” “You too. Take care, Ron,” the oldest Winchester brother returns.

The ex-hunter retreats back into his garage, and Dean glances at the trunk for the second time and smiles satisfied. He’s glad he got it fixed. The clunking sound every time they hit a pothole was driving him crazy, and with enough arsenal for a small military operation inside, he wasn’t really keen on leaving it unlocked either.

As he takes a look around the abandoned street, he realizes he’s missing the tall individual that usually occupies the passenger’s seat. Where the hell did Sam go? Instinctively, Dean scans the area, uneasiness evident in his stomach, a sensation which arises ever since he was a kid, whenever he loses sight of his little brother. Then he spots him a bit further down the road. He’s on the phone with someone, and for a second he wonders if it’s Zoë he’s having a conversation with.

Waiting for his brother to return, he leans against his car, shoving his hands in his pockets. The sun feels nice and warm on his back as it burns away the coolness of the night. Now that he has nothing to do for a moment, his thoughts sneak off. He doesn’t like it one bit, but he can’t help but think of the huntress they crossed paths with a little under a week ago. He may pretend that he doesn’t give a shit, but he has to admit that she has been on his mind more than a couple of times. Not that he likes her, fuck no, but Sullivan left an impression that has him wondering. She has been through more in the twenty-five years that she has walked this earth than most endure in an entire lifetime. Maybe that is why he deep down cares; he can relate to her.

Dean exhales, not dwelling too long on the reason behind the intrigue. Instead, he wonders if Sam’s presumption is actually true. The fierce Zoë Sullivan being in deep shit; he can barely picture it. She always seems in control, even when things don't go as planned. She caught him off guard. He, Dean Winchester, can you fuckin’ believe that? The older Winchester sibling rolls his harmed shoulder, testing its mobility. She shot me, for fuck’s sake.

Even though he has been in the field longer than she has, Zoë seems to expertly know her way around the world of monsters that is their reality. She’s a bright girl, skilled, fast, fearless. She has every aspect of a perfect hunter. But after those last words back in Paragould, he was left with the impression that the battle she was going towards, is one she didn’t expect to win. It truly felt like a final goodbye. A disturbing question pops up in his head; did he make a mistake not going after her? The two guys they saved from a werewolf in Waco probably don’t think so.

Dean stares ahead, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth while contemplating his choices. Maybe they should go after her anyway, see if they can pick up her trail. North is indeed a big place, but then again, a hot chick on a Harley Davidson would stand out. It’s a long shot, but if they play this right, they may be able to find her.

The matter escapes his mind when he feels his phone vibrating, the buzzing device startling him slightly. Somewhat annoyed by his own reflex, the hunter takes his Motorola and notices the small icon of an envelope in the right upper corner; he has received a text message. It’s probably Erin, his hook up back in Waco, who had to wake up alone this morning. She must be wondering where the man she met in a bar three days prior has gone. But when Dean opens his inbox, his eyes widen in shock.

At the top of the list of incoming messages, it says ‘Dad’.

Dean’s heart has picked up speed, now pounding twice as fast than it was seconds ago. Last time he checked, his father’s phone was inactive, and now there’s a message coming in from that number? Different scenarios flash through his mind, not sure if he should prepare for good or bad news. With shaky fingers, he opens the text.

Job: 48°13’11.00”N 121°41’4045”W

Dean exhales, still staring at his cell. He can’t fucking believe it. John disappeared from the face of the earth, nowhere to be found, and after all this time he sent a few numbers and letters. The older Winchester brother huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t matter, though. Relief frees Dean from the crippling worry that he has tried to stuff down for over a month now, but kept him up at night nonetheless. This text confirms what he’s been hoping for; Dad is alive.

Thrilled, Dean turns around and glances down the street, noticing Sam, who hastens towards the car. He can’t wait to share the news, knowing they have both been so desperate for a breakthrough.

“We’ve gotta go,” they both say at the same time. “Me first,” Dean demands, childish. “What are you? Seven?” Sam huffs, raising an eyebrow to match with the sass. Despite his accusation, he counters in the same manner. “What I’ve just heard is bigger.” “Bigger than this?” Dean brags while flashing a grin, victoriously handing his brother the Motorola.

Curiosity wins and Sam takes it, attentively reading the message. His eyes narrow, but then his jaw falls open when he realizes who the sender is. John’s youngest son isn’t impressed, though. In fact, what shows on the display infuriates him.

“That’s it?” he scoffs, agitated, giving the phone back to his brother. “After a month of silence, that’s what he gives us?” “Sam, don’t you realize what this means? He’s okay!” Dean brings to mind. “Don’t bitch about this.” “Just because he’s able to send us a text message, doesn’t mean that he’s okay. We’re not even sure it’s him!” Sam returns bitterly. “Oh, come on. This is so Dad. One word and coordinates, that’s straight up Marine Corps right there. It’s more convincing than his fuckin’ signature,” the older brother argues.

“And what the hell are we supposed to do with this? Trust him blindly and do a job he can’t find the time for because he’s hunting whatever the thing is that killed Mom?” Sam assumes, his arms flying up before he lets them come down to his sides again. “Exactly,” Dean states, matter of factly. “Don’t you see, Sam? This is what I’ve been telling you. He doesn’t want to be found, he wants us to hunt.”

Dean opens the passenger side door and rummages in the dashboard locker. When he straightens his back, he pulls out a brown notebook; it’s John’s journal. “This book. This is dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. He could’ve taken it with him, but he didn’t. He’s passed it on to us.” Dean looks deep into his brother's eyes while he points at the leather bound book that is the representation of the Bible to the Winchesters. “Dad’s journal, the text... Dad is telling us he wants us to do what we were trained for.”

“You know what I want? I want to find him,” Sam returns determined, handing back the phone. “And how the fuck were you planning to achieve that, huh?” Dean returns. “I don’t need a plan, I already know where he is,” the younger brother states.

Puzzled, Dean stares at him, waiting for an explanation. There has been zero contact between their old man and Sam for years, and now all of a sudden he has figured out where John is at? “How?” he questions, suspicion rising. “I just received a call. He’s in Tennessee. In Nashville to be precise,” his sibling states. Dean frowns. “A call? From who?”

The shrug of Sam’s shoulders is nonchalant. “I think she might be a hunter or something.” “She? Does this mystery lady have a name?” Dean questions further, trying to get details while frustration bubbles in his chest, triggered by his brother’s short answers. “She didn’t give it, but it doesn’t matter. We’re going to Tennessee,” Sam decides.

Dean laughs out loud, dropping the journal on the passenger’s seat before he turns away. Then he returns to glare at Sam as if he just made a joke. “You wanna go to fucking Nashville based on an anonymous call? Did the sun fry your brain or something? This could be a fucking trap, Sam!” Dean shouts, indignant. But his sibling is determined. “I don’t care. If he’s there, I’m going.”

Dean steps closer and halts right in front of him. He has to look up to stare into the eyes of his taller brother, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating.

“Dad has given us an order,” he growls, his words spoken in a low tone. “I said: I. don’t. care,” Sam battles him. “Well I do, you stubborn dumbass!” Dean counters with a raised voice. “What you are planning to do is fucking dangerous! Dad doesn’t want you on his tail, you’ll blow his cover!”

“You’re calling me a dumbass?! Dad is after an incredibly powerful monster by himself, alone! He’s the dumbass for not accepting our help! We already lost Mom, I lost Jess, I’m not going to lose him too. I want answers, I want a piece of that son of a bitch that ruined our lives and I want it right fucking now! If Dad doesn’t want me there, that’s his problem!” Sam shouts angrily.

“You’re going against him?” Dean isn’t impressed with the outbreak, and slightly shakes his head. “Oh right, I forgot. That’s what you always do; the exact opposite of what he asks!” he continues cynically. “He doesn’t ask. He orders,” his brother corrects. “And you follow those orders like a fucking lapdog.” “It doesn’t matter how he tells us what to do, Sam! He’s our God damn father, so you better suck it up and fucking LISTEN!!!”

Dean is sure one of Ronny’s neighbors is going to emerge from one of the houses, telling them to shut up and take this argument elsewhere, instead of fighting it out in the middle of the street. He doesn’t care, however. His little brother has forgotten his place, and he needs to set him straight.

“I do whatever the hell he tells me to do because I trust him, because I respect him, which is something I’m gonna strongly advise you to do as well, because your attitude fucking stinks,” Dean lectures, his moss green eyes penetrating, fire burning in his irises. “Now get in the fucking car, because we’re going to drive to wherever those coordinates lead us to.”

Puffing his chest while straightening his back to make himself seem even taller, Sam crosses his arms. His older sibling might think he has all the authority, but he’s not a little kid anymore who he can boss around. Those days are long gone. He thought his departure to Stanford taught Dean a lesson or two, but apparently he needs to remind his brother that he plays by his own rules, and no one else's. “I’m not going with you,” he decides, standing his ground.

For a moment, Dean just stares at him, giving him a second to reconsider that conclusion, but Sam doesn’t even blink. Their gazes battle, the air between them almost too thick to breathe, rivalry carving a deep canyon between the two. “I’m gonna give you a choice,” Dean snarls. “You can come with me and solve that case, or you can go fuck yourself.”

Sam gulps, but stands his ground. His facial expression doesn’t change as he steps back, away from his brother, and heads over to the back of the Impala without breaking eye contact, until he opens the trunk to grab his duffel. The glare Dean receives when he slams the lid closed says enough; he’s not coming along for the ride.

Stunned, Dean stares at him and huffs in disbelief. Un-fucking-believable. He has always known Sam was stubborn, but now he takes the cake. Disappointed, the older brother shakes his head. This is the second time Sam has chosen a different path and leaves him without even batting an eye, but it scares Dean just as much as when he left and went to college. He’s not alright with what he’s about to do, but he can’t give in. He has to listen to his father. Frustratingly, he pulls open the door of the Impala. “Goodbye, Sam.”

Trying to hide his unpleasant surprise, the man left in the road watches him. He didn’t expect this, Dean taking off without him, but then again, how could he not expect a soldier to follow orders from his general? It doesn’t change anything, though. He is dead set on investigating this lead and finding his father.

The man who is about to put a distance between himself and the one person he swore to never part with again, glances in the rearview mirror. He wishes he hadn’t, because the coldness in Sam’s hazel eyes seems foreign, yet familiar. As Dean starts the engine, he realizes he is either having a major deja-vu, or is reliving one of the worst days of his life. Despite the painful pressure that’s building in his chest and the panic that floods his brain, he lowers his right foot on the gas pedal, and the car rolls away. He doesn’t drive off as fast as he normally would, because he’s fighting the urge to turn around. Pained, he glances in his mirror again. “C’mon, Sam. Move,” he begs.

But Sam doesn’t even lift a finger, and he remains in the exact same spot. Then he does move, but not in the way Dean hoped. His little brother turns his back on him and heads towards downtown Hillsboro, in the opposite direction.

With a deep sigh, Dean shakes his head, clamping his left hand around the wheel until his knuckles turn white. “Stubborn bastard,” he sighs.

His jaw clenches, as West Elm Street flows over in Route 22 and the landscape around him changes. Small homes and sheds make room for stretched out farmlands. But he doesn’t notice the scenery. His conscience is fighting his heart. He wants to hit the brakes and pull the car into a 180° so badly, but he has to listen to his father. Never in his life has Dean done anything else than that, disobedience not being a word one could find in his dictionary. Yet in this situation, both of the options are pitfalls. It doesn’t matter which way he goes, he will make a mistake either way. Because the one line that his father drilled in his mind over and over again keeps haunting him.

Take care of Sammy.

He grinds his teeth, but continues to drive further and further away, his upbringing leaving him no choice. The hunter has made his decision; he’s going to find the location of those coordinates and do the job his Dad has given him. He knows what he’s doing, he’s just hoping Sam does too, because if something happens to his little brother, Dean knows he will never be able to forgive himself.

Well, shit. The boys have gone separate ways. Who do you think will find what he’s looking for?

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part four here

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fortune-fool02 · 5 years ago

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Silent Dreams

Funny Valentine x daughter reader

Requested by: anonymous

Please enjoy.

If there was one way someone could describe Valentine’s daughter, it was sweet. Always a warm smile on her lips that made anyone else smile just by looking at her. She rarely did anything without being told to, which Valentine had tried to teach her that she could tell others what to do as well, but she never did. Mainly because she never spoke.

Throughout her life, [Name] had never uttered a word and that resulted in lessons in sign language or to carry a small notepad in her pocket. None of this bothered her nor her parents. With the lip-reading lessons they gave themselves, [Name] often didn’t need to sign nor use her notepad to talk to her parents. Valentine was not going to let something like this stop him from loving his daughter, she was his flesh and blood, and her inability to speak was not going to change that.

Valentine could easily recall times where he had walked into his office to find [Name] sitting with one of his followers tending any injuries they had gained. Her expression was soft and comforting as she moved her mouth to give encouragement or praise -all of his followers knew how to lip read for her sake, something Valentine demanded of them- to them. His followers treated her with the amount of respect they did him and that made him happy. [Name] was above them and they did not need reminding of that.

[Name] often followed her father around like a lost puppy, looking up at him with those wide, innocent [Eye colour] orbs of hers with such admiration. It was sweet. She would look around his office in wonder, looking at the flags and the large design on the floor.

“That is our country’s flag, [Name].” her father told her, holding the flag out fully for her to see. He will never forget the way her eyes lit up when she saw it for the first time, how his heart swelled with pride at that. “This is what I stand to protect. To bring our country to greatness is my job and my life duty as President.” It was that moment that [Name] felt the world change, in the sense of she knew what she needed to do. Ever since she was born, she was an observant person, able to read people good and understand things that one wouldn’t expect her to.

She grew up into a strong teenager; her compassionate nature never faltering and only grew as she did; like a beautiful, deadly flower, thank to her own Stand she had developed. When she was a child, she asked her father to teach her about her country and its history, he did. He taught her everything he could about their country. That became one of their father-daughter times that no one was allowed to disrupt, not even her mother. [Name] never missed a lesson, always eager to learn everything her father could teach her.

He even taught her how to control her Stand. From how to summon it to the abilities it possessed. It was not the same as D4C, as one would expect, but they were able to learn many things of her Stand. One being that it seemed to be able to give life to the dead, as when [Name] saw a dead tree in a park and placed her hand against it, her Stand materialising and breathing life into the tree again.

With the knowledge of this ability, [Name] would often go to parks and nature-related areas to breathe life back into them, wanting to do whatever she could to make her country better. Much like her father. Nothing had made him smile as proudly as that moment did when she signed,

I want to help make the country better, like you. That moment was forever imprinted into his mind, along with every other treasured memory he cherished with his daughter.

Though, one day when she had reached the age of eighteen, she surprised both her parents. One of his followers had told them [Name] wished to see them alone. When they found her in the room in front of his office, the secretary left them, closing the doors behind him.

“What is the matter, [Name]?” her mother asked, sounding somewhat concerned as her daughter was standing by the window, looking out at the city. Her usual soft, sweet expression was absent and in its place was a serious, almost stern expression that her parents did not recognise.

“[Name], what is it?” Valentine asked, taking a step towards his daughter by instinct. The [Hair colour] woman turned to her parents and took a breath, moving to stand in front of them. She could do this. She could so this.

Taking a breath, [Name] locked eyes with her father. “I-I...wh-whant...to be... the f-first... f-female Pr-President.” Silence hung in the air after that. Her mother almost fainting at the fact her daughter -who has been a mute since the day she was born- had just spoken her first proper words. Her father stood there, frozen in shock at his daughter’s words. She wanted to be President like him?

Light worry began to draw itself on her face at her parents’ reactions. Had she done something wrong? Had she disappointed them somehow? She lowered her head, trying to spurt out apologises for something she was unaware of she had done when her father pulled her into a hug.

“For you to say that...I could not have asked for a better daughter.” Those words stuck to her, wiping away any worry she had of disappointing her parents and replacing it with a warmth. Everything in her life, every moment she had spent with her father, had built up to her wanting this. She wanted to make her country great, just like her father. She wanted to make him proud. That was all she ever wanted.

She will make America great for her father.

#funny valentine #valentine #jojo bizarre adventure #funny valentine x reader #valentine x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #funny valentine jojo #valentine jojo #steel ball run x reader #steel ball run #sbr #jojo part 7 #daughter reader

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sourbat · 4 years ago

Note

39 for hammertooth if you'd like to...? 8)

Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Wow. So, this turned out big. There’s a kiss before the main one, but trust me when I say it doesn’t compare to the main course.

I really hope you like this one. Thank you.

Warning: set post Galaktikon 2

Toki dreamed. He dreamed he was in space, floating aimlessly amongst the vast black sea of nothingness. In his dream, he carried no physical form, no arms or legs to paddle through the weightless current, and no mouth to call his brothers who floated alongside him, there in spirit, and just as formless as he. In his dream, they sailed across earth’s outermost layer, drifting peacefully, coating the planet in a veil that soothed, healed it from the damage of a battle between gods. Toki stared outwards, at the distant stars, twinkling bright. He paid no mind to his spreading consciousness, instead taking delight in how he could stare the sun head-on without his eyes hurting, the glowing fogs of distant galaxies that radiated new colors Toki never knew existed, and the gorgeous purple and white swirl of their own milky way.

In his dream, he saw the earth beneath him, massive and blue. Eyeless, but all-seeing, Toki watched the glitter of city lights, the gathering of clouds, and the graceful turn of the planet. He saw how day transformed into night, and in doing so, remembered a distant, faded memory. A promise he made. Something important. Toki watched the planet spin, days and weeks go by, trying to remember what it was, the promise, but couldn’t breach anything past those final moments before falling asleep. So he stopped, turning away from earth, and to the stars that flickered, at his nonexistent form, and went on, floated further into his beautiful, but admittedly lonesome dream.

…

He sailed further, vanishing into space, consciousness never fully wavering despite the everlasting silence, the darkness and the unending sense of loneliness…

…

Something cut through the emptiness. A flat note ripped through space, waking Toki, startling him out of his peaceful state. An inkling, a sharp, painful reminder that he left something behind. With his mind now spread across the greater part of the galaxy, it took awhile just to wake up, to realize what was going on. The stars twinkled around him, and his brothers, just as equally spread and silent, quivered at the terrible sound. In his dream he was nothing more than a cluster of atoms, but the song somehow tore through Toki, attacking him, yelling and pleading for him to put himself back together. A terrifying noise. A mournful sound. An unending, unwavering rip of chords that called him forward, back to earth, to the atmosphere.

And then came a dream of rain, of thunder and lightning, and Toki picking up each piece of himself, of Nathan and the others and, following the instruction of the grief-stricken, but now familiar tune, fixed them together and cast them into the storm clouds.

Toki dreamt of water, of falling into it and becoming one with the atmosphere. He dreamed that he was drowning. He feared he was, until a new sensation took hold. He was falling, away from the blackened sea, from the weightless joy of space, and was tumbling back to earth, falling, falling, closer to that frightening noise. The moment pieces of him sank into the clouds, collected and readied to be carried off into each droplet, the song became more rapturous, beautiful. Toki felt himself start to reform, and he could feel the fragments of a promise, and memory of him playing, helping orchestrate the music that now consumed his drenched, ailing soul.

He reached out with an arm that wasn’t entirely there, at the source of each trembling, wretched note. Each wonderful note. That familiar melody.

His song.

…

Toki woke to the gentle patter of rain hitting a window, and the sound of a monitor providing a steady, repetitive beep. Senses still trapped in a fog, Toki pushed a breath of air through his lips, and was surprised to discover the chapped edges and nerves stinging from the brief expulsion of air. The drizzle outside called for him to remain still. Toki couldn’t figure why, but thought he should listen to it. Still, he parted his mouth, breathing in the alien atmosphere, the strange, medicinal taste that lingered under each shallow inhale. In the distance, he heard footsteps, clicks, beeps, and voices.

Toki tried opening his eyes, to get a better sense of where he was, because he knew he wasn’t in his room. The bed underneath was too stiff, and the sheets so thin. Everything felt heavy and rigid, and whatever attempt he made to move, to wriggle in place, was met with an impossible weight. His legs were stones, and his throat was dry. His mind was alert, but his head was still fuzzy, and trying just to turn, to rub his face into the pillow made his brain feel stuffed and sick. His right arm was disturbingly numb.

The rain’s patter grew silent, and Toki possessed just enough strength to open his eyes, to meet with the harsh light right above him. His muscles squint, recoiled at the sudden change. The world was a massive, white blur, and as Toki wrestled with his consciousness, pulled himself awake and tried to focus his tired eyes on a shape, heard the monitor and turned towards it.

It was his monitor, he realized, staring wearily at the indistinct figure of a squiggly line jumping in tandem with his heartbeat.

He was…in a hospital?

Then came a sound. Something hard hitting the floor, and liquid splashing as it collided with a surface. Startled, Toki slowly turned his head, this time more capable, but felt a terrible ache that crawled up his spine and settled across his skull as he tried to locate the source of the noise.

He blinked. Standing before him was a dark, blurry figure.

“Toki?”

A pain filled Toki when he heard the voice. Magnus. He knew. Toki swallowed a lump, trying to make sense of why it hurt so much. He squinted his eyes, barely catching the outline of Magnus’ figure, the wild and indistinct form of his hair, and the long, thin design of his encroaching form.

“…Ma–”

“Toki!” A sad, desperate cry.

Magnus approached, stepping over whatever mess he concocted, and hurried towards the bed before Toki could effectively focus on him. His bed shook, and Toki knew Magnus was there, gripping it, trembling above him. He stared at the blurry figure, barely making out the man’s silhouette, but spotting the rich color of his iris set upon him.

“You’re awake…”

The shaking of the bed ceased, now replaced with warm, shaking fingers outlining Toki’s face. Toki closed his eyes at the touch, racked with a terrible ache as hands cupped his jaw. Each touch was so affectionate, so tender, and for whatever reason, Toki felt starved of it. Warm hands. A thumb rolling over his cheek. He detected every distinct movement, no matter how soft, how subtle, and the pain that nestled in his chest grew bigger, heavier, and a terrible feeling, one Toki couldn’t put into words, gripped him. As if he had read Tokis’ mind, Magnus now hovered over him, and his lips gently applied soothing reminders across Toki’s forehead that this was real; his frantic, uneven breaths hitting Toki’s face was real; each pained touch that warmed Toki’s weakened state, reawakened nerves and filled Toki with energy, was real. It was supposed to calm him, but Toki shuddered, terrified by the thought that arose, the thought that this was real, that he was finally feeling something.

Like he was waking up from a very long sleep.

Toki stared into the dark mass of hair and shadows. “Magnus?”

“Yeah,” his warm voice spoke, trembling and reverberating that same fear as it sank into Toki. Magnus pulled back. “H-how you doing, buddy?”

Toki stared at the reconfigured form, of Magnus slowly coming into better view. Toki could make out the red surrounding Magnus’ eye, the blurry line that made up his smile.

He swallowed again. “…tired.”

Magnus chuckled above him. “I’ll say,” he said, voice stressed and hoarse. “You’ve been sleeping for nearly a week.”

Toki went silent. A whole week?

It would explain why he felt so tired, muscles and joints stiff from a lack of movement, and body sore and weighted from underuse. Toki blinked, a little pleased when he reopened them to see some loose strands of Magnus’ hair finally begin to solidify. He could make out Magnus’ face better, and with it, could see what his long sleep had done. The man looked so worried! So concerned. So…so tired.

“Ams…awakes now,” Toki said, surprised by how a week-long rest could result in his voice so faint, lungs exhausted from a simple inhale.

Oh, but they had a battle! Right… a battle in space. No wonder he felt so weak.

“Magnus,” Toki called, heaving the man’s name out. “Dids we...”

“You did it, man,” Magnus said, voice falling to a barely controlled quiver. The space between them vanished once more, shadow returning to cover Toki. Magnus’s hands cradled his head, returning and supplying Toki with a touch that was still so intense, so refreshing despite only being away from him for a week. “You saved the planet. You all did…”

Toki smiled at the news, felt the ends of his eyes burn as Magnus continued to feed and refill his hungry, empty body with his touch. Toki closed them, choosing to focus on the relief of knowing it was finally over, and sighed under each welcoming sensation, the warmth of Magnus’ presence finally reentering his life after spending so long dreaming of the stars. He listened as Magnus informed him it was alright, that everyone was alive, that the others were waking up with each passing day. Toki sniffed, elated to hear that everyone was safe, that Skwisgaar would wake up soon after him, and they’d all be able to celebrate. Abigail was here. And Charles. His arm was broken, and he suffered some burns here and there, and he’d have to stay in the hospital for a little while longer to run some tests, but he was alive. Everyone was alive, and he made it back in one piece.

Suddenly, his smile started to burn, and Toki felt a minute rip spread across the center of his upper lip. He licked it, tasting the parting of his chapped skin, and winced at the sting of his own dry tongue. He swallowed. “Ams…thirsty.”

“Gotcha,” Magnus said, and parted from him to retrieve some water. The instant he did, the ache returned. It was less than a minute, but the yearn for touch, for someone to acknowledge and speak with him quickly consumed Toki’s thought. It was the same, unending feel of loneliness that had started to fill his dreams, and was returning with a vengeance for each second he spent alone.

But Magnus returned, cup and straw in hand, and the pain quelled long enough for Toki to get the first eager sips of liquid down his throat. His slip lip ached, but a few licks from his now moist tongue helped ease the pain.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Toki answered, smiling up at Magnus.

Magnus leaned close and carefully placed a finger on top of the cut lip. “Here, let me get you some more,” he said after a quick check, and left his seat to refill the cup. As he did, Toki cast his tired eyes on the man, and he noticed there was something off about his appearance.

He was thin. Magnus was noticeably slimmer, enough that Toki could point it out despite his vision not being his best. There was that fine blur that suggested it might not be the case, but when Magnus returned to his bedside, Toki could see the finer details. His cheekbones were more pronounced, and Magnus, though happy, looked emaciated.

“You hasn’t beens eatins,” Toki stated, frowning. He tried lifting his left arm to touch Magnus and feel the sharp counters that he had worked so diligently to fill with hearty meals and love, but could barely bring to lift it.

Magnus took Toki’s hand into his own. “I’m sorry, Toki,” he said, smiling terribly at him. “It was…rough. I’ll regain it all back, man. Just you wait. You just…” Magnus paused, lowered his head and inhaled deeply. He glanced up. “You just focus on getting better, alright?”

Toki gave a weakened nod, but struggled to hold a smile. Magnus looked unwell. He almost looked as bad when Toki visited him in the hospital, right after he recovered from his surgery. He looked so much thinner! Exhausted. Broken down. It… hurt. Toki remembered working so hard to get his weight up, and Magnus lost it all in such a short period. He must have been so stressed, so worried looking after him.

The threat of tears arose, and Toki shut his eyes.

“Something wrong?” he heard Magnus ask.

Toki shook his head.

“What is it?”

Toki sniffed, opening them. “You must... have beens so... w-worried,” he said, whimpering out the words. “Must… have beens a… really scaries week.”

Magnus stood up to get closer. He pressed his head gently against Toki’s. “You’ve no idea. But don’t worry; I’ll be ok.” He got closer, arms wrapping around Toki’s lying body, carefully sliding underneath him and stopping whenever Toki jerked from the random jolt of pain. Somehow, he managed to produce a recognizable hug. A strange, distant hug, but one Toki realized he desperately needed. The moment Magnus affirmed it, Toki wanted nothing more than to return it, to break whatever space remained between them and experience the entire embrace. He wanted to feel Magnus hold him, enjoy the fastened pace of his heart and the sheer joy of just having him close. But even this awkward, incomplete hug felt so good. So refreshing. New. Like he hadn’t…

Like he hadn’t hugged Magnus in a very, very long time.

Toki blinked. Tears began to roll down his face as he revisited his dream and saw himself, not quite alive, but not dead either, floating in space, watching the earth slowly spin with the passing days. How many times did it spin? Toki lost count, and his attention had turned towards shooting stars and far away galaxies once he grew tired of the revolving earth. He spread all over the cosmos, getting lost, forgetting, and it was only because he heard the song…

Toki sniffed. “M-Magnus?”

Magnus held him as close as he could. “Yeah, Toke?”

Toki closed his eyes one final time to try and stop the tears, to fight the horrible realization that was unfolding before him. “H-how longs…how longs has Toki beens gone?” he coughed. Magnus shuddered at the question. Toki wriggled in place, even though it took up so much of his energy. Even though it hurt. He needed to see Magnus. He needed to know. Toki continued moving, pushing Magnus away until he had no choice but to face him. Trembling, Toki asked, “How longs did it… takes me to gets backs home?”

He saw the anguish in Magnus’ eyes.

“M-Magnus?” he pleaded, shaking in his bed. He inhaled a deep breath, fighting through the soreness to get a full sentence out. “H-how longs haves you and everyones been waitins for us?”

Magnus recoiled at the question. Toki watched as Magnus brought a hand to cover his darkened eyes, to hide away a drop of the pain that was now emitting from him. Magnus trembled, his lips curled into a thin line as he exhaled heavily through his nostrils. Finally, after some time, Magnus dropped his hand, letting it fall on top of Toki’s, while the other gripped the bed’s metal railing.

“You’ve…well, you’ve been away for a while, buddy,” he said, voice fighting between keeping a gentle composure, and wanting nothing more than to break and fall into a state of piteous cries. Magnus’s mouth remained opened, and Toki watched as he sucked in a staggered breath. Magnus squeezed his hand. “A little more than two months.”

Toki sank. “W-what?”

“You arrived just in time for New Years,” Magnus said, forcing a laugh. He squeezed Toki’s hand again, adding a little playful shake. “D-don’t worry…I’ll sneak in some champagne.”

Months.

The word hit hard. Months. He’d been away for months. He’d been dead for months!

No wonder Magnus was so thin. It’s been months. He waited for months. Abigail and the others…

Months.

“Oohhh…” Toki’s lips curled, bearing teeth before parting further. A pain stabbed at his heart. He let out an airy gasp, then broke into a weak cry.

“Hey, hey.” Magnus lowered, letting go of the railing to pet Toki, and then gave him a more affirming squeeze. “Hey. Shhh. It’s alright.”

“N-no ams not!” Toki wailed. He coughed, choking on uneven gulps of air. “I…I has been gones for… t-two months. I…”

Magnus pressed his face into Toki’s crown. “It’s ok,” he whispered into Toki’s messy hair. “I’ll catch you up on everything.” Another haughty laugh. “Spoiler alert: nothing important happened.”

Toki stared at Magnus’ heaving chest. “B-but, Magnus...”

“Toki, it’s al–”

“I l-left you all alones…” More tears fell, and Toki let out a staggered whine. “Yous waited f-for two months…and Toki… m-missed your…”

Magnus’ hand shook.

“…I m-missed your birthdays!” Toki bleated, and let out another whine once Magnus pulled him into a hug. A real hug.

His arm, though in a cast, ached. It burned, stung like nothing Toki ever felt before, but when faced with the pain, all he could think to do was bring his one good arm up to return the favor. He lifted it as high as he could, barely making it over Magnus. More tears fell as Toki felt the effect of their embrace, the warmth that he’d been deprived of for months.

“I missed y-your birthdays…and Christmas…” he bawled. His heart stung, racked with guilt. “I gots you n-nothings!”

“Oh, no, Toki.” Magnus pulled away, breaking the hug in the process. He stared down at a wretched Toki, face ruined with tears, saliva and snot. Magnus shook his head at him. “No, you…”

He cupped Toki’s shaking jaw. Thumbs rolled over Toki’s cheeks, wiping away a few of the tumultuous streams of tears covering the younger man’s face. Toki winced, squinting each time Magnus tried, but failed, to cut off a stream, then felt another burst of heartache when Magnus gave up, succumbed and let a gentle flow begin to fall from his hardened face. He dipped forward, face covering Toki’s. Toki felt the sharp prickle of Magnus’ unkempt facial hair rub against him. Magnus drew his lips upwards, kissing Toki’s tear-stained cheek. The first stung just as bad as the hug, but then came the second, kissing another stream away and leaving behind an inkling of relief. Then, a third. A fourth.

Then Magnus parted. “You gave me the best damn gift of all,” he said, voice hoarse and raspy. He looked Toki in the eyes. “You came back. Like you said you would.”

Toki hiccuped a weak cry.

Magnus wiped away some of his own tears with his sleeve, then smiled. “Gift just…it arrived a little late,” he said, stuttering an awkward laugh that was far more genuine than the last. It was real, and although it sounded so off, and it ended with a sharp, staggered inhale, the truth that filled each word before it, the smile that lifted it, and the lighthearted beginning of its treble was more than enough to let Toki know Magnus meant it.

Hearing it, Toki sniffed, squinted his sore eyes, and then broke into another, more uncontrolled cry. He bobbed his head, trying to agree, trying harder to smile, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Magnus returned to him, attending to the opposite cheek, and kissed at the tears that wouldn’t cease flowing. With his weakened arm, Toki held on to Magnus, fighting whatever pains it brought him to have him close, even after his monitor warned him to stop, and the nurses raced in to demand what was going on and tell Magnus to have better control of himself. He didn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go even after the nurses threatened to put him under, and another called for Mr. Offdensen. Toki held on, waiting for that moment when Magnus kissed all the tears and inner turmoil away, leaving nothing behind but the pain from a long battle and the promise that, that too, would soon be soothed by him.

#toki wartooth #magnus hammersmith #hammertooth #magtok #fanfic #kissing prompt thing #Thank You #lampmeeting #oh wow #this was a trip #i know im missing several italics #i hate tumblr formatting #but i hope you all enjoy #this unbetaed mess

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angelwars11 · 4 years ago

Photo

Title: What would you do if you had more time?

Prompt: Clock

Pairing: Codex

Rating: T

Word count: 6k

‘Time. What is time? Time is an ugly storm in which we are all lost. Time is when your children grow from young to old. When a seed grows into a tree. When things change from new to unusable. When people marry and divorce. When birth becomes death. When seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years go by without stopping. You can’t stop time. It’s simply impossible.’

—

‘Time is running out for all of us. But if you give a little nudge, a little push against the clock’s hands; then maybe, just maybe, you possess enough strength and determination to push time back.’ -By Me (Beta/Angel)

This is day 4 of the ClonecestInJuly challenge! I finished this prompt a week ago and the editing was finished last night, the beta reading was finalized today. Now this one is very angsty, sad, and is also said to be a tear-jerker, and I quote, “Oh thank god, that got me all teary-eyed.” by my marvelous beta reader @gimmeclones. It’s also edited by my fabulous revisor, @blazesurrender! Thank you darlings!! P.S. the flower’s symbolism in this story is Hope.

Who’s ready to cry and hug a pillow close to their chest? Who’s ready to want to hug the characters really hard? If you are ready, please, press the ‘keep reading’ link. Enjoy!!

*Warning: Pretty angsty! If you aren’t into angst, then please don’t read! Also, you will cry so grab a tissue box.

Time. What is time? Time is an ugly storm in which we are all lost. Time is when your children grow from young to old. When a seed grows into a tree. When things change from new to unusable. When people marry and divorce. When birth becomes death. When seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years go by without stopping. You can’t stop time. It’s simply impossible.

Some people waste their time away by doing unremarkable or unimportant things that won’t help them in the long run. Then, once they even waste it away, they can’t do anything about it.

The elderly, who’ve lived their lives to the very end, will tell you one thing:

“Time is valuable, and when it is gone, it’s gone. Time is wealth, and unlike credits, when it is gone, you cannot replace it.”

You may think that time is invisible to the naked eye, but no, it’s not. Actually, you can see it right there in front of you above every person’s head like a marker. Marking. Or target them for an inevitable change.

Death.

Numbers, colored in neon glowing colors would float above your head since the time you were born; and they only change from green to red when you are approaching your end. Everyone has this. Not one person has never been born without it. An ugly and scarily real reminder of what is to come if you are not careful.

The scary thing about it is that you can stop what’s coming. Only fate has your life in its hands. Would you trust in fate? It could change directions if you chose a different path. Could that path lead you right to your death? Could your decision be right—or very wrong and lead you to your undoing?

Rex has never known what to do about fate because he can’t do anything about it; not that he knows of. These glow green numbers have floated above his head for as long as he could remember. He couldn’t touch these numbers. His hands went right through them.

The green would pixelate and float away. Then they’ll come back at some point. You touching your own numbers wouldn’t affect your time or you, it just makes the numbers dissolve and at some point it’ll bounce back.

Rex’s numbers say exactly: 60:12:20:18

He has exactly 60 years, 12 months, 20 minutes, and 18 seconds until he dies. Rex is unbelievably surprised by this amount of years he has. First of all, all clones barely have time on their hands; or more like on their heads. Seriously! Some clones have mere minutes or hours until they die and it’s really unnerving to know that you are about to die on your next mission someplace and you don’t even know HOW you’ll die.

Rex stares at the numbers over his head for a long time. They continue to count down every second. He shakes his head and sighs. What can I do about it? Fate is unclear sometimes. At one point, Rex’s number specifically said 01:36:18:01 till he died, and that was before the battle of Geonosis—the first battle of the Clone Wars when clone troopers were introduced. Rex actually believed he was going to die that day, but something changed it; somehow he changed it.

A plasma grenade landed in the sand in front of him and his numbers stuttered. He remembers this so vividly. Then Rex ran in the opposite direction and the blast sent him flying forward. He woke up dazed, confused, and dizzy most of all. Rex forced himself to stand and continue fighting but he didn’t realize his number got knocked all the way back to 02:03:60:59.

Two years! Rex thought about it. What if we can change our path and divert to another path away from death itself? He dismissed these crazy thoughts and called them childish or far-fetched fantasies that simply couldn’t come true. That all changed once Rex was sent to Teth and his numbers dropped; they were falling—and falling fast.

Ventress took hold of him, attempting to use the force to make him comm his General, but Rex fought her control long enough to say his General’s first name, Anakin, and that alone improved his numbers. Ventress left him against the wall. His numbers rose to 03:08:60:59.

At the time, Rex had no idea how he got his time all the way up to 50 years! But he did somehow after spending many long days and hourless nights thinking, and he finally perceived the truth. I can change the pathway fate has carved for me.

He should be happy that his life ended up that long, as a result of his quick-thinking, but it also makes Rex feel sad every time he looks upon a vod’s numbers and it’s spiraling down to zero. Rex wants to hide away his numbers sometimes, he can’t though.

Oh well. Rex sighs internally and leaves the ‘fresher.

Rex is getting ready for a big mission to follow a signal being transmitted to a Separatist Cyber Center on the planet’s surface. Hours ago, Rex and Commander Cody came forward to Jedi Generals Made Windy and Anakin Skywalker with their theory that the Separatists had somehow managed to figure out Rex’s strategic “playbook”, and Cody had proposed taking a team behind enemy lines to investigate.

Rex finishes getting ready in the ‘fresher and exits. He walks over to the nearest bunk and sits down on it. A soft glowing light, warm and orange shines onto his face.

He smiles to himself.

On his holo-pad, he stares at a picture of him, Cody, Fives, and Echo. They all looked so… happy. Which should be kind of unusual during a war. Rex enjoyed his time with all three of them. Echo was taken away from them, a couple weeks after the picture was taken, during the Citadel Mission on Lola Sayu. Fives had never been the same since. Now, they are both gone. Rex doesn’t like to think about what happened to Fives. His hand grips tighter onto the edge of the screen.

Rex believes that Echo is alive and he’s the reason why their algorithm keeps getting recognized and used against them. The swish of the doors opening turned Rex away from his holo-pad and towards his riduur. Cody. Rex smiles at him.

Nobody is around. I could just-

“Kot’ika, hey.” Rex let’s the nickname slip from his lips. Cody’s eyes soften from their natural hardened look. He always looks that way with everyone, especially when in serious situations.

“Rex. You wanted to talk.” Cody barely lets a flicker of a smile show on his face. Rex knows he’s just trying to be the big bad Commander and barely show any emotion. He only ever shows true emotion, or loving emotion, when they are in the bedroom.

“Yes,” Rex confirms, “I did.”

The two of them talk about how Echo could be the potential reason for the Separatists constant victories. Rex deduces Echo is the only possible weak point for how the Separatists could have gotten the algorithm since his body has never been recovered. It is a bit of a far stretch though. It leaves Cody feeling skeptical of the theory after Rex tells him his idea.

“I hope you’re right. But the fact is, Echo’s fingerprints are all over the Separatist’s strategies.” Rex looks at Cody. The other’s scratched up helmet sits nestled against his left hip.

“Rex. You have to admit what you’re saying is a long shot at best, and most likely, misplaced hope.” Cody calmly watches him. Rex turns his gaze to the floor, sad and frazzled. He’s not so sure he can make up his mind about whether he wants to believe Cody’s instincts, or his own.

Cody raises his hand slowly in front of Rex’s face to call back his attention. Rex stares at him again.

Concern flickers in Cody’s eyes, “I need you to be focused on this.“

Rex shifts his gaze a bit. "I-I know, I know.” Golden eyes flick up to meet Cody’s hazel once more. “Don’t worry."

Cody offers another smile, gentle and sweet. That’s when Rex’s eyes widen just a fraction. He stopped looking at other’s numbers above their heads because the 8 digits ceased to interest him; they only made him more sad and worried and so many other things. He just so happened to look up and notices Cody’s numbers are lowering a bit quicker than normal.

Cody turns to walk away from the bunk and Rex squints at the mocking numbers.

Holy kriff. Why didn’t I notice till now?

"Wait, Cody.” Rex jumps to stand up and runs over to Cody; who turns around to face him again. Some confusion showed in his eyes.

“Yes?” Cody shifts his weight to his right hip.

Rex stares at the numbers in horror. “I…your numbers. They're…” Rex gestures to the numbers above Cody’s soft hair, longer than the normal hair length, and makes an aborted step closer. Cody tips his head back. Too bad an individual can’t see their own numbers unless they look in a mirror. Even then, they are still reversed when presented to the looking glass. The numbers just bend back with you if you look up. Cody seems to remember because he looks at Rex again.

“What’s wrong with them?” Cody eyes him with concern. Rex steps closer and closer till Cody can almost feel his breath on his face. Rex trembles slightly.

“They…they are dropping Cody. Fast.” Rex fights the urge to panic, to say something, to cry or anything, just-Stars! Make them stop moving!

Cody restrains his own panic, but for Rex; because Rex looks like he’s going to cry in any minute. Cody grabs his hands and rubs his knuckles. Just the way he likes it; to calm down some.

“Hey, cyare, look at me.” Cody’s voice is as soft as a young Tooka’s fur. Undisturbed. Fluffy. It could almost wrap it’s warmth around Rex’s body and squeeze him. Rex glances at his face and then back up at the flickering numbers.

“Rex. Please, don’t look at the numbers. Look at me and only me. Don’t look at them.” Cody brushes his chin up with his finger. Rex reacts to it and leans against his body.

“I don't… please don’t go. Your numbers are getting faster. They skipped down five years, Cody. It’s not even years! It's—oh stars.” Rex grits his teeth in horror. Cody quickly shushes him. He doesn’t want anyone to hear them. Rex submits to his hold.

That’s another scary thing, the numbers do not make a sound. It’s like a ghost in the wind.

“Cyare, you know that fate changes whenever you do something. Whatever path you take can change the whole directory, and that just happens to the best of us—"

Rex growls and leans away.

"But not you! I don’t give a shit what fate wants or needs. It won’t take you away from me. I ca-” Cody tightens his hold on Rex’s wrist. That shuts him up. Cody didn’t mean to, but Rex knows that he can’t get attached to him like that; especially when it came to their numbers.

“You will. We are soldiers, Rex. We fight in a war and someday we may not make it back home, to our loved ones. You’ll have to accept that fact when fate decides it’s my time-”

Rex shakes his head. “You don’t have to go. You can stay here; we can make up an excuse why you shouldn’t or can’t go.” Rex smiles. Hope and sorrow shimmer like unhappy, broken up waves in a pond.

Cody let’s go of Rex’s wrist, wraps his arms around his waist, and brings him closer to his chest. A hug. Rex’s breaths become slower and calm.

“You know I can’t do that. But I will remain by your side till the very end, and if fate wants me today; and of course I hope it doesn’t, then it will take me and I get to march with our aliit.” Cody tucks his chin on top of Rex’s short, oh so soft, wheat blond curls.

Rex fights against the burn behind his eyes. Don’t show emotions. Y-You ca-c-can’t. He became so sensitive after Umbara. Rex lost many brothers during that campaign, even the 212th lost many as well. Cody lost Waxer that day.

“If I die, I’ll always be here with you, my love. Never forget that.” Cody whispers. His warm breath tickles his scalp. It sent shivers ramping down his neck, to his broad and wide shoulders, to his toned abdomen and all the way down to his feet. Rex’s arms snake their way around his cyare’s waist to return the hug.

He hates to agree to disagree but it must be done to ease Cody’s concerns and cleanly wipe them off the slate.

Rex nods.

“Okay, okay,” Rex whispers. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum."

Cody smiles. He pecks a quick kiss on Rex’s forehead and returns his resting place on his head. "Bal Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum."

—

Rex stands beside Cody. They rock back and forth with the movement of the LAAT shuttle. Something that every trooper has learned throughout the war; go with the flow or the movement of the shuttle. Don’t fight against it or you’ll fall over. The red lights enveloped the entire midsection of the ship in an evil glow. It put Rex on edge because he knows that Cody’s time is ticking down to 0 sooner than he liked.

Why did we let him go on the mission if he’s about to die or get hurt? Succumb to injuries that may kill him. Well, they are clone troopers. They can’t not go on missions just because their time is ticking down. They have to go!

Cody glances down at Rex’s hand while everyone else is looking in the other direction, and his knuckles graze Rex’s. Two fingers wrap themselves around his own fingers. Rex looks up at Cody. Then the Captain slowly flicks his eyes up to stare scrutinizingly at the glowing numbers. They are slowly turning red.

"Cody, ” Rex whispers. Cody rubs his thumb over his knuckles.

“It’s okay, Rex. Everything is fine.” Cody reassures him with a small smile and kind eyes. Nothing is fine though. Cody is going to die in 43 minutes because of something that Rex doesn’t know, not yet anyways. Rex wants so badly to do more than curl his own fingers around Cody’s. He wants to hug him. Kiss him. Be close to him.

“I gotta go up to the front and brief everyone on what we need to do. I’ll be back okay.” Cody let’s go of his fingers and holds his eye contact with Rex before he walks over to the front of the mid-section.

00:43:57

Cody won’t be back. Something is going to happen to this shuttle, I just know it.

Cody is getting closer and closer to death. Rex’s heart throbs at the terrible knowledge. Why does no one else care that Cody’s time is almost up? Why?! Maybe because they have another issue that’s more important than a clone Commander’s imminent death.

“Alright, listen up.” Cody whips out a mini holo-projector that shows a staticky picture of a satellite dish. “Here’s the mission. Our target is the Cyber Center. It’s the "brains” of the entire Separatist campaign here on Anaxes.“ Cody seems so confident even though time is ticking. Ticking and ticking. And it won’t stop until it has Cody in it’s sharp clutches.

Wrecker steps forth. "I could demolish that with one hand!” He says energetically while raising his left fist. “Yeah!” Wrecker nods.

Cody just looks at him. “This isn’t a demo job, Wrecker.” Then Cody glances at everyone else on the shuttle. “It’s strictly a retrieval operation.” The holo-projection flickers off. The low blue of its natural light dissipates: and the evil red of the room returns.

The shuttle tips to its right as it enters a canyon-like terrain. Rex nervously shifts as he stares at Cody’s numbers again. Even Hunter glances up at them in surprise. Seems like he just noticed. Rex thinks. The loud sound of explosions rock the ship from side to side. Everyone rocks with the movement.

We are under attack!

Everyone looks up at the ceiling. They can all hear it outside. Cannon fire, most definitely. The ship groans as it rises into the sky in an attempt to escape being shot down. A black DSD1 dwarf spider droid gets a lucky shot. The red plasma bolt rams into the metal with a screeching hiss. Amber’s fly off the side of the ship that had been hit; and the shuttle takes a dive back towards the ground.

“We’re going down!” Wrecker shouts the obvious and starts to laugh like a maniac.

The shuttle takes a dangerous dive straight into the side of the cliffs and then continues to shred across it, bringing rocks and rubble down with it. Then the shuttle tips onto its back and left side. It crashes into the ground loudly. Blue and violet crystals, that are stuck into the ground, are brought up by the massive hull.

All of the troopers stumble out of the shuttle coughing and groaning to themselves in pain. Rex hop’s off the side and immediately starts to look for Cody. He didn’t get out. Rex comes to realize in well-concealed horror.

Where is he?!

“We always get shot down when we travel with regs.” Wrecker pouts.

Kix remains on the ship and is peering down into the smoke enveloped shuttle. He calls, “Cody!” Cody doesn’t answer. So Kix turns his head to look at everyone else. “Help!”

A flare of dread rolls through Rex like an angry wave. He turns around, ready to do anything to save his cyare and get him out of there. Haar'chak! His time! He doesn’t have time!

Kix looks back in quickly. His brows furrow. “He’s trapped. We have to do something."

Rex rasps out, "I’ll get him.” and begins to jog over. Hunter rushes to stand in between Rex and his cyare—get your hands off of me!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.“ Hunter stops him with two gauntleted hands pressed against his chest plate and right pauldron. Rex glares at him for one second and then tries to get a glance over his shoulder.

Hunter can see his concern and desperation fluttering around in his eyes. He can tell why he wants to so badly save Cody.

He reassures him, "Easy Captain.” Captain Rex looks at him like he’s crazy. What do you mean 'easy Captain’?! Move! Rex’s eyes glow a bit when the sun’s rays hit them just right. Hunter peeks around Rex’s right shoulder.

“Wrecker,” Hunter acknowledges the bigger trooper, before ordering, “get him out.“ Hunter pushes Rex back and away far away from the ship, gently; just so then he wouldn’t anger him. Rex wouldn’t get unnecessarily upset. Hunter is just doing his job as a Commander of his own squad and is trying to keep him calm.

Wrecker cracks his knuckles. He pulls his left arm up to pump himself up with adrenaline. He’ll need it to get Cody out of there.

"Get back!” Wrecker grunts.

Everyone moves away to watch whatever he’s about to do to save the Commander stuck inside. Rex’s right foot nervously taps against the ground.

“This is ridiculous!” Kix looks at Rex. “He’s gonna need help to get Cody out of there.”

Rex glances from Kix, to the ground, and then back up to the flaming shuttle.

Crosshair chuckles. “He’s gonna get the gunship out of there. Not Cody.” His tone is smug and cocky. Arms crossed over his chest plate like he’s all talk. Rex pushes his boiling anger back down.

Wrecker places his hands on the heated metal. His left hand on the side and his right on the bottom. The sizzling of fire pops near him. Wrecker grunts powerfully. He lifts the shuttle up and up. Then Wrecker jerks his body down to rest both of his hands on the bottom of the shuttle. And his legs move to a crouched position, right leg bent down low and the foot is pressed into the ground, while the left leg is bent back behind him; they have also spread apart a little bit to support the weight.

Wrecker heaves one last time before he pushes up with all his might. Knocking the ship right back up to sit like it’s supposed to; bottom part facing down against the ground, top up towards the sky. Parts of metal fall off and slam into the ground around Wrecker.

He smiles under his cool helmet.

The ship then tips onto the other side. The deafening and horrid sounds of metal, screeching against each other like chalk on a chalkboard, drag along with a groan. The body of the pilot limply sits in the cockpit. Dead. Wrecker instantly grabs a hold of the injured 212th Commander in yellow and heaves him up, like a rag doll, onto his shoulders in a fireman hold.

The buff trooper turns around and makes his way back towards the awaiting group. The aura around the group suffocates them in anxiety; more so for the regs.

Cody’s legs swing from side to side, like he’s already dead.

Wrecker tips his chin up. “Boom."

And on cue, as if he did this a million times before, the shuttle blows up. It becomes a fiery storm of red, orange, and yellow fire. The smoke billows up it no the sky.

Rex and Kix both squint against the heat and raging colors. It may look pretty, but it can still kill. Kix’s mouth opens in a gap and he runs over to meet Wrecker. His field medic instincts are kicking in in an instant.

Rex grits his teeth and runs over as well, his kama swings around his hips multiple times. Wrecker starts to slowly lower him onto the ground; which draws out a pained reaction from Cody. Rex’s eyes widen at the death time flickering above his head.

00:00:37:47

Kix takes out a scanner, the laser hums as it’s dragged along over Cody’s chest because a big metal pole laid across his back inside the ship when he was stuck. Cody’s skin crinkles up under his eyes as his face scrunches up in agony.

Cody groans again.

"He has internal damage.” Kix says grimly. Kix glances at all of them. “I can cut the pain. But he needs help fast.” He takes off his med-pack and starts to dig through it for supplies.

Rex stares at the numbers with sad eyes. Cody gazes up at him longly. Rex notices his cyare’s looking at him, so he kneels down to get a bit closer.

“It’s okay, Cody. Kix will fix you up.” Rex reassures him with a small smile. Cody grimaces when a wave of pain rapidly washes over him.

“I-It hur-hurts.” Cody closes his eyes.

Rex bites the inside of his cheek. If Cody is admitting that it hurts; then it must hurt bad.

“I know. But it’ll be okay. Just stay with me.” Rex’s fingers inch towards his hand. Force, I want to comfort him so bad. But everyone is around. All I can do is say something for now. “I am here, Cody."

Cody flinches away from Kix when he plunges pain killers into the side of his neck. Cody gasps and tries to get away.

"No no. It’s okay. It’s just a syringe.” Rex smiles. Hoping to calm Cody down.

Kix pushes it in; not even waiting for Cody to listen to Rex. The slender metal slides into sensitive skin and that’s enough to make Cody halt in his desperate attempt to escape more pain.

“There you go.” Kix comforts him. He may be firm, but he still cares about his patients. “We need to get him somewhere safe so then a drop ship can come pick him and I up. I’ll go with him back to the base.” Kix volunteers.

While he is, Cody is slowly falling asleep.

Rex nods. “Okay.”

—

The sky is a beautiful glowing blue. An ominous aurora, a glistening light show of ivy green and with a fair amount of yellow, swirled in the sky above a campsite down below in the thick wooded forest. The warm glow of a fire pit hummed lively through the treetops.

Jesse and Kix sit in front of a fire pit. They lean against one another. Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair stand near the fire pit and Hunter is a little ways away; crouched in the dirt. Hunter touches the dirt and closes his eyes. Near the front of the camp and further away from the campfire sits Cody and Rex.

Cody curls forward and groans in agony. His chest burns terribly. Rex let’s his hand graze the inside of his thigh plate and comforts him the best he can.

“It’s okay, Cody.” Rex whispered under his breath. Cody whines. He tries to push Rex’s hand away but he wouldn’t let go of him for his sake.

“No no. Cod'ika, listen to me. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” Rex reassures him. Or more like he’s trying to reassure himself that everything will be fine but it isn’t! Cody’s time is standing at a standstill of 00:16:34.

“Rex….R-Rex. It hurts so bad.” Cody moaned.

Rex coos at him. “I know, Cod'ika. I know. Just breathe for me."

Cody’s fingers grip the hard plastoid armor around his abdomen and try to yank it off, but he couldn’t. Rex watches him. The numbers flicker again. 00:14:23.

Haar'chak.

"R-Rex, forceee~ It burns.” Cody places his head against Rex’s chest plate and grits his teeth.

Rex looks over his left shoulder. “Kix! Cody, he's—"

The medic rushes over, excusing himself from his conversation with Jesse and the others. Jesse stands yo in concern but Kix tells him to sit back down, he’ll worry about it.

"Okay, Commander. It’s alright. Shit.” Kix stares at the scarlet red above Cody’s head. “Haar'chak.” Kix looks down at his hands and turns his sad gaze to his Captain.

“Rex, I am sorry but we can’t do anything else until the shuttle comes.” Kix sits back.

“But he’s dying Kix! There has to be something you can do!” Rex grips Cody’s trembling hand between his two palms. Cody moans a little louder when his head starts to swim. Rex leans his head against his chestplate.

“I’ve got you. Just lean against me and you’ll be okay.” Rex wraps his arms around him and glances up at the numbers. 13 minutes.

Cody knows his time is almost up. He can feel it in his muscles; how they sag and become heavy like clay and rocks. His eyes couldn’t stay open for long. He feels so tired. Rex stares at the medic sitting beside Cody.

“Can you give us a moment alone?” Rex requested.

Kix smiles sympathetically. “Of course.” Kix walks back over to the warm campfire.

“My love. I am sorry.” Cody apologizes once Kix is gone. “There was no avoiding this. I am so so sorry.”

Hot tears prick Rex’s eyes. He whispers, “It’s okay, Cod'ika. It’s my fault. I should’ve been more persistent with convincing you to stay at the base.” Tears drift down Rex’s face. Cody reaches him up to wipe them away. Rex smiles wetly and presses his forehead against Cody’s and sniffles.

“I love you Kote,” Rex utters the endearment that makes him all the more sad. “I love you so kriffing much,” Rex whispers. A soft sob escapes his lips. Cody closes his eyes and grunts in pain. It’s like the pressure in his stomach is releasing but in the most uncomfortable way possible.

“I love you too.” Cody sighs. His time ticks closer and closer to his inevitable death. Rex holds onto his lover and rocks him back and forth, while he whispers sweet nothings against his cold and clammy skin.

Rex bites his lower lip.

“I wish there was a way to save you. I wish that I could save you. Stars, please help me. Help him. Please give him more time.” Rex murmurs and prays. Cody listens to his breathy pleads over and over; the world is enveloped in a period of silence that is only broken by Rex’s prayers.

“Let me save him. Please, let me save him.” Rex continues the desperate mantra like a broken record.

“Give him more time.”

Cody’s breaths start to slow down with their deathly crawl. His chest burns for more oxygen. Please, more! He whines in pain. Cody claws at Rex’s arm as he is desperate for comfort.

“Give him more time. Give him more time.” Rex repeats.

Cody gasps softly when an odd wave of warmth extinguishes the cold from his skin and body. His eyes fly open. Kix and the others are watching the loving and sad interaction unfold. Kix’s eyes widen when Cody’s numbers flicker closer to three minutes—and they stop. Everyone takes a bated breath and sits in waiting.

Rex says again, “Give him more time. Give him more time. Let me give him more time.”

Cody slowly turns his head to gaze onto Rex’s scrunched up face. Rex’s eyes are closed and his lips move at lighting speed. Cody groans from a deathly cold sensation that suddenly turns really warm and filled with life. Rex’s numbers start to flicker themselves and they—they start to lower from sixty years and go down.

Everyone around them moves towards them in shock. Rex refuses to let go of Cody’s hands. He keeps his own around them until he feels the warmth return to them. Rex blinks in confusion and gazes up at Cody’s numbers.

He gasps.

I-I…I can’t b-believe it. His numbers—

Cody’s eyes widen in horror at Rex’s numbers.

His numbers!

Cody finally feels his strength return, it’s a rush of adrenaline that he uses to reach up and touch the side of Rex’s face. He studies his eyes. Golden and normal; nothing’s wrong with them! Cody stares at his numbers again.

Rex’s numbers stop moving. Cody gapes. Fifty years?! He lost a whole ten years!

“Rex?? I-I…what did you do?” Cody frowns in worry. Rex shushes him.

“I did what I had to so then you could live."

Wrecker screams, "What?! How is that possible? Nobody told me you could do this!!"

Crosshair rolls his eyes. "Nobody knew this Wrecker. This is… Strange. Weird. Are only Regs above to do this?” Crosshair turns to look at the medic questioningly.

Kix shrugs. “N-No. No. I am very sure no one has ever known to do this before. This is a new discovery and development.” Kix kneels down beside Cody’s body again and checks all of his vitals quickly just to double check. Cody couldn’t tear his eyes away from Rex’s numbers.

The corner of Rex’s lip quirks up in amusement. “Cod'ika, look at me. Don’t look at the numbers. They’ve stopped moving; haven’t they?"

Cody glares at him. "You di'kut! You threw your years away to–to— "

"To give you extra years. Commander…you just gained 10 years!” Kix interrupts. “How is that—"

”-Possible?” Hunter finishes for him.

Rex shrugs. “I just kept thinking about wanting to give him more time, and I did."

Cody’s eyes tear up. "Force, you didn’t have to…you didn’t have to do that for me, Rex! You do know that right?”

Rex shakes his head. His eyes light up.

“Cody, I don’t think you understand. I did it because I…” Should I mention our relationship in front of the others?

Cody stares at Rex, waiting for him to finish.

Heh. Screw it! “I care about you a lot. I love you and you know that."

The Bad Batchers smile softly, except for Crosshair, he barely smiles for any reason. Kix and Jesse both gaze at one another. Cody’s breath trembles.

"R-Rex. Force, thank you. Cyare, I love you too.” Cody presses his face into his chest plate. Kix smiles at them.

“Well, his vitals are a lot better, sir. But I think that he should still go back to the base and rest. I don’t want him getting hurt again on this mission and the next time you aren’t able to save him. Okay?” Kix stares them both down firmly. Commander Cody knows not to test Kix’s patience.

“Yessir.” Cody smirks. Kix nods at them and gets up. Then the medic shoos everyone away from the pair so they can have a moment to themselves.

Cody and Rex look at each other before they laugh quietly. Rex’s hand shifts from his bicep to his side. It is there to support him.

“Rest cyare. The shuttle will be here soon and you’ll be back at the base in no time.” Rex offers a small, yet loving smile. Cody leans back against the tree.

“Good. “

The aura around them becomes less tense and more silent. Cody and Rex are thinking about everything that just happened. It happened so fast that Rex wasn’t able to comprehend what happened.

I sacrificed 10 years of my life, and I don’t exactly know how I did it. But one things for sure—

Rex hugs Cody.

“You are reckless sometimes, Rex’ika. You may not have known that would happen; but it did. What if you gave your entire life away for me? And if it’s possible for you to lend over 10 years then I am positively sure you can give away your whole life to me,“ Cody murmurs.

His cyare smiles, unashamed and completely gentle. "I would do anything for you, Cody. You know that.”

“That’s what I am worried about most times too. I am worried you’ll do something that will put your own life on the line for me or someone else you care about. I rather you live than me, I am being honest.” Cody can already feel the heaviness on his eyelids. Sleep is a beautiful thing when it takes you under; away from the pain and suffering.

“I know. But I don’t regret it. Saving you is the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me.” Rex gazes over at the others around the fire pit.

"I have to go now, Cody.“

"Okay. Stay safe, for me.” Cody curls one pinky around Rex’s Index finger. Rex grips his pinky tightly before letting go.

“Of course, Kot'ika."

Rex’s finger slips away from Cody’s grasp. He walks towards the fire pit in front of Cody and begins to talk about what they need to do next. In the soft, moist soil, a couple meters away next to the tree; a small shrub-like Hawthorn flower peeks, shyly, from the ground. With a thorny, shiny, thick stem and five white petals with anthers in the middle of the flower that are pink or red.

Its petals open up slowly, like a venus fly trap, and shine brightly in the dark of night.

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