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shera-dnd · 3 years

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New chapter arriving a little early today. This time featuring Weiss’s lesbian awakening at the hands of a certain Knight of the Fall Maiden

As usual you can read here or over on AO3, just follow your gay little heart (like Weiss is hopefully gonna do soon)

It had taken Weiss a couple of days to get used to not wearing her helmet, and a few more still for her to ditch the armor altogether. She hadn’t engaged in combat since those first couple of days, and even if she did, she was more than confident that she could best her opponents with sword alone.

Now, with the protection of Lady Ilia’s shawl she was given a level of freedom she did not expect. She was able to roam the festival grounds without a care in the world, no longer weighted either by iron or name. Tied down no longer by responsibilities to her father nor to House Schnee as a whole.

Of course Lady Ilia accompanied her wherever she went, though now Weiss saw her less as a shackle and more as a companion, with whom she spent time happily. She hoped that by putting aside her iron she had made herself more approachable to Lady Ilia. She had the fae to thank for all this after all.

“Must we really accompany those two once more?” Lady Ilia demanded as they followed a little ways behind Lady Yang and Lady Blake, who were both very openly and blatantly flirting.

“Lady Blake is our friend, Lady Ilia,” Weiss replied, “shouldn’t we be happy to accompany her in such a joyful evening stroll?”

“Oh, I’m plenty happy,” Lady Ilia countered, clear annoyance disproving her own statement, “though I do not understand why I must be exposed to these love birds every day.”

“Because Lady Blake requested that we accompany her,” Weiss informed, a playful grin forming on her face, “besides how else will you reach your daily quota of snark and mockery?”

“I’m sure you’d still give me plenty to work with, Lady Gigas,” Lady Ilia replied in kind, using the false name they had chosen for Weiss’s disguise.

“You know nothing delights me more than being of help to you, Lady Ilia,” Weiss added. The two of them looked at each other with an attempt at annoyed glares which very quickly dissolved into amused smirks.

“If you two are quite done,” Lady Blake called, “we’ve arrived.”

Around them sprawled the tents of the valean envoys and the Knights of the Fall Maiden, above them fluttered the flag of crossed axes over a crown, the symbol of their kingdom. They would finally meet Lady Blake’s companions.

“Come here, men,” the knight called in the valean tongue, “I wish to introduce you to my friends.”

With that many of those present gathered around the four of them to exchange greetings. Plenty of these knights had been bested by Weiss the week before, but none of them seemed to hold a grudge against her, and many had taken the opportunity to request rematches, which she gladly accepted.

It was after she had assumed she had met all of Lady Blake’s companions that she was greeted by the sight of a new arrival. An arrival that caught both her eye, and every scrap of breath from her lungs.

She was a tall woman with a flowing mane of red hair. Her body may not be as large, nor bulky, as Lady Yang’s, but the lean muscle it had looked as if it had been sculpted from marble, and the sweat - from what was clearly an intense training session - gave them a shine that made it near impossible for Weiss to look away.

She was starstruck.

“Lady Nikos,” Lady Blake called, “I hope I haven’t interrupted your sparring practice.”

“Hello again,” she greeted, with a lovely smile on her face, “are these the companions you have spoken so fondly of?”

With that she happily greeted the four of them and then continued to hold an animated conversation with her fellow knight. Weiss’s mind was having a difficult time grasping what was being said, most of it focusing on the lovely sound of Lady Nikos’s accent, and the insufferable smirk on Lady Ilia’s face.

Before she could question her companion on this another knight stumbled after Lady Nikos. A blonde man that Weiss first assumed to be her squire, but whose regalia was that of a full fledged knight.

Her next assumption was that the man had stolen his gear from an actual knight, though Lady Blake would have apprehended him if that was the case.

“Sir Arc, good to see you’ve survived your sparring session,” Lady Blake welcomed, the title as unfitting on him as his armor.

“Jaune’s been getting better and better,” Lady Nikos assured her, though why someone like her would waste her good will on such a buffon was beyond her.

“It’s only because of your teachings, Pyrrha,” he replied, offering the recognition back to the one who actually deserved it, “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

“Nonsense, you’d still be a knight of great renown,” she assured him, quite wrongly in Weiss’s fair opinion.

To drive her point home she took his hand and gently pressed a kiss against his knuckles. Weiss decided then that she despised Jaune Arc with all her being.

With her mind now being assaulted on three fronts - two annoying and one lovely - Weiss did not contribute much to the conversation, which only aggravated Lady Ilia’s accursed smile.

It was only later, when the two of them had been separated from the group that Weiss finally had a chance to question her on that.

“What amuses you so, Lady Ilia?” Weiss asked, making no attempt to hide her annoyance.

“Nothing much,” she replied, her tone as unbearable as her smile, “only that you’re so clearly smitten by Lady Nikos.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Weiss scoffed.

She was not some foolish little princess swooning over any knight who so much as flexed a bicep in her vicinity. More importantly she did not seek the company of women in that way...at the very least she was pretty sure she didn’t.

“That you wish it was your hand, not Sir Arc’s, that she had kissed,” Lady Ilia replied with certainty.

“That is…not untrue,” Weiss admitted, “but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it now?” She teased, “does the thought of a strong woman in knightly armor, carrying you off into the sunset not set your heart aflutter?"

“It very much does not,” Weiss informed her, unamused.

“Then perhaps you wish to be that knight in shining armor,” she tried again, “brave, powerful, holding a swooning maiden in your arms as she declares her undying love for you.”

That thought certainly brought some color to Weiss’s cheeks. Though it was obviously only because it played to her dream of becoming a knight, and not because of any previously undiscovered attraction to swooning maidens.

Certainly not.

“Oh Lady Schnee,” Lady Ilia continued, hands clutching her chest as she leaned back in a clear mockery of said maidens, “you’re so handsome and strong, please carry me off to your chambers so you may ravish me.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point,” Weiss rolled her eyes, deigning to ignore Lady Ilia’s nonsense in favor of preparing their camp once more.

That was certainly a lot for her to process all at once. Certainly she was surrounded by women who held interest in other women, but that did not speak of her preferences, right? Though if she was so certain she shouldn’t be having all these doubts right now.

Perhaps she enjoyed the company of men and women, much like Lady Yang’s mothers. Though she couldn’t quite remember a time in which a man’s company did to her what the mere sight of Lady Nikos did.

She needed something to get her mind off of this. Something that would both distract her and help her think more clearly. Thankfully she knew just what could save her in her hour of need.

“What are you doing?” Lady Ilia asked, as Weiss began searching through her belongings.

“Searching for my training swords,” she informed her, “the two of us are gonna spar.”

“I see,” Lady Ilia replied, seemingly not much entertained by this idea, “and why is that?”

“You’ve claimed to know how to defend yourself,” she explained. Having found the pair of wooden swords that she had stashed away - just in case Winter could spare some time with her - Weiss tossed one over to Lady Ilia and continued, “I wish to test that.”

Her reasoning wasn’t entirely untrue. She did want to measure her companion’s skill, just to be sure she would be safe were they ever separated, and that explanation dealt a far smaller blow to her pride than, ‘I’d rather swordfight you than sit around and question my sexuality all night.’

“Very well,” Lady Ilia agreed, getting up and giving her sword a few practice swings, “though do not be saddened when I put an end to your winning streak, Schnee.”

“My lady,” Weiss replied, in a tone she knew annoyed her companion deeply, “you know you could never sadden me.”

“You know that won’t stop me from trying, Schnee,” she replied, matching Weiss in her annoyance.

This would bring her such joy.

“On my mark then,” Weiss declared, taking a proper fighting stance, “begin!”

The word had barely left her lips before Lady Ilia’s sword was already swinging for Weiss’s head. She barely had the time to block that blow before another hit came her way, then another, and another still. Lady Ilia pressed the offensive with a terrifying fury, backed by skillful swordsmanship.

Sidestepping her next blow, Weiss finally managed to get her footing again and swing her first blow towards her opponent. Lady Ilia evaded it masterfully and pushed the attack once again, only to be stopped by a follow up blow of Weiss’ sword.

Oh, this was exhilarating. The intensity of her lady’s attacks, the rhythm of their push and pull, truly nothing could get her blood pumping quite like a good fight, and Lady Ilia was giving her exactly that.

“I wanna see you grinning like that once I turn you into worm food, Schnee,” she threatened.

Oh? Had Weiss been grinning this whole time? Perhaps she had been enjoying herself too much. Not that she had any cares right now. There was only space in her mind for the fires of combat, both with blades and words alike.

“Your skills with the blade are matched only by your eloquence, my lady,” Weiss declared, trying to keep a calm tone even as the fight continued.

“And yours is only matched by your fairness,” Lady Ilia countered, matching Weiss blow for blow.

“I’ll be taking that as a compliment,” she replied, taking some ground as well while she was at it.

“Not once I’m done beating your face bloody!”

Weiss laughed.

She couldn’t help herself really, not when she was enjoying herself so much. She hadn’t had such fun in ages, so of course she had been grinning and laughing like a complete fool. It did not help that her sparring partner was making herself a fool in much the same way.

Perhaps it had been such bouts of laughter that had caused Lady Ilia’s stance to slip for a moment. Making the best of the opportunity she had been given, Weiss lunged forth, hitting her partner’s sword with force, knocking her backwards with the blow. Though she did not wish for her companion to suffer any real wounds, and dutifully caught her in one arm before she could touch the ground.

Her breathing was labored, heavy with strain and adrenaline. Lady Ilia did not find herself in a much better position, clinging to Weiss’s arm to keep herself from falling back as the both of them simply held themselves like that. Their bodies pushed oh so closely as they allowed themselves to slowly recover.

“I must admit, Schnee,” Ilia was the first to break the silence, “you’re quite the fighter.”

Weiss did not care to stop the smirk that had returned to her face, “it wouldn’t do for my lady to have a poor knight at her service.”

Calling herself a knight was perhaps a bit much, but she felt she could allow herself such indulgences in this moment. As expected, Lady Ilia clearly disagreed, rolling her eyes at Weiss’s self satisfied comment.

What wasn’t expected was for her body to fracture into a kaleidoscope of butterflies, each of them flying away and dispersing into the air. Weiss froze in stunned shock, unable to move as her mind tried to grasp what had just unfolded.

She felt hard wood gently press against her back, before the real Lady Ilia allowed herself to retort, "and it wouldn't do to let you grow too cocky, Schnee."

The Ilia she had fought was an illusion.

Now that had returned the smile to her face.

Weiss righted herself and turned to face her sparring partner. Ilia’s excitement was written on her face as clear as day. She smiled not only at the fact that she had bested a Schnee, but at the simple joy of a good fight.

It struck her then that perhaps there was some truth to Lady Ilia’s assumptions. Perhaps she had certain preferences when it came to her partners. That was certainly a lot for Weiss’s poor mind to digest while still being pumped full of adrenaline. Maybe it would be for the best if she saved the self questioning for later, and just allowed herself to enjoy this moment of joy.

“Again?” Weiss asked, already knowing what her lady’s answer would be.

“Again!”

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #pyrrha nikos #medieval au #fanfic

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tobswrites · 4 years

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Other Side-oneshot

Another bnha Kiribaku Fantasy AU because I love dragon Kirishima, and because I was heavily inspired by this creator’s animation please check them out, and read their plot in their description!

There was tales of dragons so old, one might believe they were just legends. Dragons that once co-existed with the humans, beings that shared their magic to all of the world. They were creatures that had it all, power, strength, wisdom, they were freedom.

Katsuki grew up under his mother reign, groomed and raised to be the next ruler of the small kingdom. Trapped forever behind the castle walls to delegate with the other kingdoms surrounding them, pretending to be modest compared to the others, follow a fake protocol to keep their alliances, sign papers and rule when the citizens become unruly.

He hated the entire concept, he would love to be king one day sure, but to never even experience the world outside of his kingdom was torture. To not be able to explore and make a name for himself, a name that wasn’t already tied to royalty or was influenced by his mother.

No, he wanted to prove not only to the world, but to himself that he is worth the title of king.

How can a king delegate with kingdoms when he’s never been, how can a king prepare for a problem that has yet occurred in his life, how can he be a king making hastily decisions if he has not been in battle? He has no real experience besides that of his mothers, or that of lectures that come from books and rules.

Anyways, back to the dragons, Katsuki had heard of the tales and legends, of stories and the narratives. How it’s been about a millennium, perhaps even longer depending on the book you opened, that dragons were seen last.

People, humans and all other greedy creatures alike were obsessed with the dragons, of their scales that make of great armor, of fire so hot to melt the toughest of metals, their ability of flight and rule over the skies unlike any other. They had strength not only in their height, but as well in magic and in energy.

Not to forget they were so beautiful. Creatures no one could take their eyes away from.

But they disappeared for thousands of years, because greedy bastards could not keep their hands off them. Many were stolen from their homes, raised from eggs to slaves, fancied in chains and jewels a like. Used in war and controlled to gain power. They were slaughtered for their scales and talons, killed for their fangs and horns. Used to decorate their walls and become trophies to sick fucks.

The dragons of course were not weak, but they were tired of hiding, tired of running and fighting, they wanted to live in peace and so the main population had flown away, dwindled in numbers. So that they did not become of what happened to the unicorns, they left. The last dragon ever seen was a slave girl, who’s died after the constant war of obtaining her.

Some say she died by accident, others have been told that she killed herself, for she did not want to be trophy any longer.

Katsuki, when he was young, remembered a promise he had made with Deku, that the two would not die until they see a dragon with their own eyes. He doesn’t know what that idiot has been up to since he left the kingdom, following in the steps of man they both admired, while Bakugou had to stay in the castle, he was sure as hell going to see a dragon without him.

There was a mountain range, called Takai Mountains, rocks that even penetrated the clouds. And just above those clouds, were rumored to be the home of the dragons. Only of course no one survived to confirm those rumors.

Either they lost their way up or died coming back down.

Since dragons were not the only creatures living in those mountains. Bakugou should know, since he is currently trekking in unknown territory.

Bakugou was not one to fight meaningless fight, to only kill when hungry, to only kill to defend. So avoided the animals living in these mountains as best as he could, but rams were nasty assholes, constantly pushing things off cliffs and rocks. They were seven feet tall, horns curved off their thick skulls.

He had to kill one through his hike up the mountains and used as much as he could of the animal to not have the sacrifice be a waste. He dried meat, cooked it, used the ram’s fur for warmth. He had to only kill one more animal at the end of his trip out of defense, an owl griffon.

Its feathers were soft and warm, using it for the outer top of his red cape, he was able to rest easy on hard gagged rocks, and keep warm when the air’s cold winds picked up.

His slow trek to the top of the mountain also helped with him become accustom with the thin air. Soon, he was able to reach the top. Even to him, the foggy, thick clouds were hard and scary to maneuver through, but as soon as he broke out of that fog, he was greeted with a sight he believes many people have yet to seen.

It looked like snow, hills and hills of snow that seemed to never end. Breathtaking and beautiful, all of it was a look to never tear away from. That is until he heard a sharp sound, cutting the skies above the clouds. Looking up, he couldn’t hold his giddy smile, laughing in excitement as the dragons who still flew high above him flying towards their home, which couldn’t be far.

Turning to see the directions the dragons were heading, he was quick to take out a dagger and shoot it from his hand, hitting a rock just near a face he saw from the corner of his eye.

There, standing unbothered by the dagger that was inches away from scaring his other eye was a man. Large in stature, red hair, long with the tips a black. His face was worn of either age or tiredness. Bakugou thinks it’s the latter.

“You’re a dragon.” Bakugou is quick to say, looking at the man’s features. He sorta feels bad for throwing the dagger now, but still, the dragon shouldn’t have snuck up on him like that. The man had ears longer than any elf he’s seen, red and thick with black piercings, small loops unlike the green quartz studs Bakugou wore.

His horns were large as well, both a dark red and shaped uniformly. Sharp and and not all dull at the points. He wore a leather vest, lined with fur. He also wore a scarf, thick like the rest of the man’s clothing, it was a plain scarf, but it caught Bakugou’s interest, nonetheless.

“And who are you?” The dragon growled, crossing his arms and watching the human carefully.

“Bakugou Katsuki.” The barbarian king says with a cocky smile.

“Kirishima.” The red head says, but there’s a look of distaste. “Why are you here?”

“Have many reached this point?” Bakugou asks his own question instead, causing Kirishima to sneer at the blond with even more disgust.

“No. Is that why you’re here? For fame? For a title to be able to reach the peak of Takai?” The mountains were very much known to be the mountains of the Kings, and so it wouldn’t be a surprise if that was why Bakugou was here.

Either way, Kirishima could not let the man pass this point.

“No, I’m here for you.” Bakugou answers truthfully, causing the dragon to look surprised.

“For me?” Does he know? It wouldn’t be possible, the human barely knows where he is, he looks too excited and there’s never been any..

“Well, not you specifically,” Bakugou says, waving him off, “any dragon would do.”

That causes Kirishima to growl even louder, any dragon? Was this man like of those stories told by his ancestors before him? The greed that had infested the creatures below to take things that did not belong to them?

“For what?”

“For companionship.”

Okay, wait what?

“You’re a dragon, right?” Bakugou asked, taking a step forward, curious, “I want you to travel with me, to lands never seen before to worlds only written in the books of myths and legends. To see more than the walls that contained me for years.”

Kirishima’s change of look from distrust to confusion and curiousness helped Bakugou become forward. The barbarian king was known to anger and irritate people quickly, but he wants this man to follow him. If he can get a dragon to follow him, then he can do the impossible too.

“You are a human, aren’t you? You do know you humans are beneath us, creatures not worth following, creatures not even worth talking to.” He dryly laughs.

Bakugou snorts.

“What?” Kirishima’s smile is quick to disappear.

“You’re not just some dragon huh?”

“What impression did I give you?”

“A guard doesn’t ask questions first, a citizen doesn’t look as calm as you do to an outsider, to a different species completely, especially if us humans have yet made it up these mountains for years.”

Kirishima glares, his fist clenching tighter than before.

“You sorta remind me of me.”

“How so?”

Bakugou was always one to ask questions later, always one for a fight when he was younger. But those years have passed him, and he’s tired of the same routine. Not like he would admit, but if he saw a dragon at his door step, in his kingdom he would act like that fucking nerd and ask all sorts of stupid questions, be calm and rational, be intrigued but feign indifference.

“You’re royalty, aren’t you?”

Kirishima’s entire body stiffens, and he curses at himself for reaction so blatantly.

Bakugou laughs at the dragons reaction, but then he stretches his right hand out, unsheathing his talibon sword with the other.

“I know that look in your eyes, the look of longing and the feeling of ache at the very deep of your soul. You’re bored, you’re tired of the same shit. Right here, right now, I’m giving you the offer, follow me and I’ll cut you free from your chains.” He raises his sword up to show a representation of how easily Bakugou can do that for him.

There’s walls that surround Kirishima too, sure he’s not allowed to be outside his own home’s boundary, and sure he did sneak out to look out to the horizon only to find Bakugou there, admiring the view as he was.

“You’re bored of this shit aren’t you? Grey rocks and blue skies, don’t you want to see what’s further beyond?” he slices his sword backward, pointing the blade to the clouds far from the mountains. “Trade it for something more colorful.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Kirishima has never left this mountain, not when he was a whelp, and not when he was a drake. He was raised above the clouds, and was forbid to see anything beyond them.

“Then live a little crazy.” Bakugou quickly replies back, a feral grin growing on the man’s features, “Don’t be a king to some dumb fucks who need to be ruled. Risk it, and maybe you’ll be able to see it all.”

“You don’t know what youre saying.”

“Of course I do, you play the part of king, you sign shit, and you either agree with a new law, or disagree. You decide the fate of your people, strapped to a chair all fucking day with the same issues and shit people have dealt with for millions of years.”

Kirishima takes a step backwards, turning his view from Bakugou, already feeling conflicted with this man’s words.

“You can either stay here Kirishima, stuck in a fucking cage, or take this key I’m giving you, and fucking fly the hell out of here.”

Kirishima scoffs, looking back to Bakugou looking a little more pissed, but Bakugou’s smile doesn’t falter.

“I hate to tell you that I’m actually happy with this life you think I’m trapped in.” uncrossing his arms, Kirishima walks towards Bakugou, but the man looks completely fearless, and that fucking grin of his won’t leave his face. “I admire you though, this whole thing you got going for you.” He motions towards Bakugou’s entirely with his hand, looking at the shorter man up and down. “Really I do.”

“But?” now it’s Bakugou’s time to cross his arms, his sword swiftly maneuvered so that it rest easy in his hand, not cutting or jabbing into anything on his body.

“You said it yourself, I’m a ruler, a dragon of high status, to run around with a human?” Kirishima laughs, saying it out loud even helps his conflicting emotions.

“I’m okay with this title I get to play, a soon to be king, now that’s what I want.” His growling increased tenfold, his wings sprung to life behind him, and Bakugou was sure they weren’t there before. Before Bakugou’s eyes, the man disappeared and in front of him was something magnificent.

Kirishima was huge, his scales beautiful and glistening in the sun, dull and intimidating in the dark. His entire body was packed with muscle, and the dragon was radiating heat. Bakugou had to stagger a step back from the sheer force Kirishima’s energy had given off.

This wasn’t just some royal dragon, this had to be the king of dragons.

“I don’t need a key because I’m not in a fucking cage.” He snarls at Bakugou, his large head only inches away from the smaller male, yet the blond looks far from intimidated. He looked at Kirishima with only adoration and amazement.

“If I were mixed up with you,” he says, breaking the silence since Bakugou hasn’t retorted, his breath taken from him the second Kirishima turned, “I’ll be the talk of the dragons.” They would disown him, they would have him banished from this land, afraid that he’ll bring back the humans to overtake them and disrupt their community.

“Look at you Kirishima,” Bakugou takes the extra step, closing the distant between them more. “you have the eyes of someone who lost all his fight. Damaged and broken.” Spreading his arms, he looks at Kirishima with a sense of genuine care, “at least with me you would live a little, even laugh a little, give me the chance to give you that freedom.”

At the same time he says so, a large dragon shoots up from the clouds, just at the edge of the cliff they stood on, springing towards the skies. He doesn’t see them, at least Bakugou doesn’t think they do. He also internally laughs and cheers at the great timing the other dragon soars into the sky.

Distracted with the flying dragon, he doesn’t see Kirishima change back to his human form effortlessly.

“It’s a deal worth taking Kirishima.” Bakugou says, looking at Kirishima carefully, “But I’ll leave that up to you.”

#kiribaku #kiribaku fantasy au #dragon kirishima #tobswrites #fanfic idea #oneshot #Otherside #dragon kirishima eijirou #barbarian bakugou katsuki #questions?

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agrestebug · 4 years

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Don’t Go

Hey everyone! Sorry I haven’t posted in a bit, I have had A LOT going on. So, here’s a one-shot from a prompt on the Miraculous Discord Server. Shout out to @Leo is engaged to Chise! who posted the prompt! Cross posted on FFN and Ao3! Please don’t repost without my permission! Otherwise, enjoy!

Adrien got out of the car with a bright smile of anticipation on his face. He had spoken to Lila at the photoshoot about hurting Marinette and getting her expelled. It had felt good to stand up for his friend. He knew she would never cheat, hurt, or steal from someone else. The fact that it seemed like everyone, including the teachers, believed it, blew his mind. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that they so easily believed Lila’s lies.

He hurried up the steps, but that was all going to change today. Lila was going to fix this mistake, and Marinette would be back. He’d be able to see her bright smile, and everything would go back to normal. School just, wasn’t the same without Marinette.

He could see it in the faces of all his classmates after only a single day. They all missed her.

He saw Ivan’s large figure first, and then noticed the rest of his classmates spread out near the locker-room door. He headed straight towards Nino, who was hugging a highly upset Alya down the hall off to the side.

“Alya, what’s the matter? Is everything okay?” He asked hurriedly, seeing Nino’s frown deepen.

Alya shook her head but fresh tears streamed down her face. His eyes widened and he looked at Nino, not sure of what to do to help.

Nino let Alya bury her face in his chest before finally looking up to catch his confused stare, “It’s, Marinette.”

Alya sobbed harder and he froze, his stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots, “Marinette, is she okay? She’s not hurt is she?”

Nino shook his head, “No, not in the way you think man. She’s… she’s being permanently expelled.”

Alya said it angrily through her tears, “It's not fair! I know she didn’t do it. She would have never stolen test answers, or that necklace. Marinette would never hurt anyone, and she couldn’t have done it, she couldn’t have!”

Adrien frowned, more confused than before at Alya’s outburst. “I don’t understand. I thought they were supposed to be looking into it,”

Nino glared in the direction of the locker room, “Lila came to school today with a busted lip, bruises on her arms, and a cut under one of her eyes. She said that Marinette cornered her after school yesterday and did that to her, for outing her about stealing the necklace.”

A strong burn started in his chest. He turned away from them and ran over to his other classmates, most of whom were crowded around Lila protectively. He caught her cold green stare, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth that made everything in sight go red.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he pointedly turned away from her in silence, going straight for the locker room doors. He threw them open more forcefully than he knew he should have, but right now he didn’t care, “Marinette!”

His heart thundered in his chest. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Marinette was really packing up her locker. She barely glanced in his direction when Principle Damocles told him, “Mister Agreste, you will leave this room at once.”

He ignored Principle Damocles, his voice taking on a pleading tone as he asked her, “Please, you can’t do this, you can’t just leave. Tell them the truth, tell them you didn’t do it.”

Miss Bustier let out a soft sigh, “Adrien, I understand that you are Marinette’s friend, but there is physical proof of an altercation that happened on school grounds. At this point, all of our hands are tied.”

“Marinette,” he whispered, watching with a heavy heart as she closed the now empty locker and put her bag over her shoulder. She stared at the floor, avoiding his eyes. “Marinette, tell them you didn’t do it.” He begged.

She looked up at him, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. She headed towards him, and his stomach did another uncomfortable twist as she stopped just past him, whispering it sounding so defeated. It tore his heart out.

“Goodbye Adrien.”

He stood there stunned as her footsteps moved away from him, tears burning his eyes. He quickly turned, forcing them to stay back. He nearly called out to her again, but he noticed how she stood taller now, not glancing once in the direction of their classmates. Most of them were frowning at her, and she didn’t say a word to anyone.

“Isn’t, Isn’t anyone going to try and stop her?” He asked them.

Kim said it with an edge of harshness, protectively hovering near Lila, “Can’t you see what she did to Lila? Marinette’s not the person we thought she was.”

“You can’t seriously think,”

“It’s true Adrien.” Lila whimpered, “You are such a good person, don’t let someone like her drag you down. She was only pretending to be friends with everyone.”

He walked up to her slowly, taking her hand and seeing the triumph in her eyes. He cupped her cheek, running his thumb gently over where her cut was before telling her again, “I warned you.”

She dropped his hand and he moved back, shaking his head, “I should have known better.”

He moved away from everyone, but hesitated when he saw Marinette making her way down the hall towards Nino and Alya. Alya’s cries were easily heard as the two best friends hugged as though they’d never see each other again. Nino hugged Marinette next, and she gave the two of them a sad smile before waving at them and turning to leave.

Adrien felt sick, watching his friends being torn apart this way. He didn’t bother turning back to the others, knowing that not one of them was going to stand up for Marinette. After everything she had done, for all of them, not one of them was going to stand at her side and defend her. They were going to just let her leave, without so much as a word. It was no wonder she hadn’t said anything to the group when she walked out. He wondered what they had said to her, or if they had said anything at all.

He took a small step towards his friends. Alya cried into her hands, not able to watch her best friend being escorted out of their school, and wishing that it was nothing more than a bad illusion. Nino pulled his cap down over his eyes, feeling helpless that there was nothing he could do to stop this, and that he hadn’t been able to shield Marinette from Lila’s lies the way she deserved.

Adrien felt his head starting to shake in denial. This wasn’t happening. He refused to let it happen. “Marinette,” he whispered, saying it louder as his feet started moving, “Marinette! Don’t go!”

He ran back down the hall, Nino grabbing him before he could cross where they were standing, “Dude, there is nothing we can do.”

“She can’t go!” He fought to get out of Nino’s, somehow weirdly strong, grip, “She can’t leave! She would have never done this, she couldn’t have done this!” He cried out, seeing Miss Bustier put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder to stop her.

Her voice had the slightest bit of hope left, “Adrien, unless you can absolutely prove that Marinette wasn’t the one who hurt Lila,”

“She couldn’t have done it because she was with me!” He blatantly lied as his breath came out in hard pants, knowing how he was going to get her out of this.

“I met up with Marinette right after school, and she spent the afternoon with me.” He said confidently, hearing a few whispers start behind him.

Marinette turned, her bluebell eyes instantly locked with his. He pleaded through his eyes as he said it clearly, “No one knew we were going to meet up, and I lied to my bodyguard about my fencing lesson. It was cancelled yesterday but I used that time to meet up with Marinette.”

Miss Bustier asked her instantly, “Marinette, is this true?”

Marinette’s voice shook, “Adrien,”

“The akuma attack,” he said, interrupting her, “we hid under the bridge where André had been while waiting for the akuma to pass us. Ladybug and Chat Noir told us to get to safety, and Chat Noir made a pun about burning bridges.”

He smiled at her, seeing her eyes widen. Her voice was barely audible, “And, Ladybug, she… scolded Chat Noir, and bopped him on the head with her yoyo.”

He smiled wider, glad that she was playing along before her words really registered with him. For once, he had to work to keep the smile firmly planted on his face. There was no way, there was no way she could have known that Ladybug had done that to him after his amazing burning bridges pun. Not unless…

Marinette was shaking her head as she stared at him. Her hand automatically went to her earrings, and he knew in that move that it was the truth.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, just as an excuse to bring his hand up to fiddle with the ring where she’d be able to see it. He saw the realization in her eyes, and he said it firmly, “That was a disaster of a date, but it was ours, the first of what I hope is so many more.”

“You really mean it?” Marinette asked, not able to hold back her tears any longer.

“Of course. I’ve always meant it.” He told her honestly, not a single piece of doubt left in his heart, “You’ve always been there, whenever me, or anyone else needs you. You protect your friends, and you’d never intentionally hurt someone. Even someone who has been threatening you for months.”

Principle Damocles and Miss Bustier both stared at him in shock, “What exactly are you saying Mister Agreste?”

Adrien unwillingly tore his gaze away from Marinette, and the true anger in his voice didn’t stay hidden, “I don’t know how she did it, but I know that Lila is trying to frame Marinette. Marinette told me a few months ago, in tears, that there was a girl here at school who was threatening to take all of her friends from her,” he glanced at her sheepishly, “including me, specifically, because she knew Marinette’s feelings towards me. It wasn’t until more recently when I realized that person was Lila. I didn’t realize how badly it had actually gotten…”

He looked at Marinette apologetically, saying it heavily, “I’m so sorry I didn’t say something before. I should have known, I should have realized,”

“No, no Adrien, don’t apologize.” Marinette told him instantly, “You were always there when I needed you,” she smiled slightly as another tear fell from her eye, “You and me against the world. Right?”

He nodded with a soft smile, filling with overwhelming love for the girl who had his heart, mask or no mask, “You and me against the world princess.”

Miss Bustier asked her quickly, “Marinette, can you prove you were with Adrien?”

When Marinette stayed quiet, he stared down at his hands, trying to think of anything that they could use as proof. He noticed a smudge of something on his thumb, and frowned at it as he looked closer. He rubbed the dark substances between his fingers, and knew it instantly.

“Miss Bustier, she doesn’t have to prove it.” He lifted his hand to show her, “Lila’s wounds aren’t real. It’s make-up.”

Principle Damocles moved over to him quickly, seeing the make-up tinge his fingers before loudly calling out to her, “Miss Rossi, a moment.”

Miss Bustier moved her hand from Marinette’s shoulder with a smile, and as Lila approached them slowly, a small limp in her step, she asked innocently, “Yes sir?”

“Would you mind showing me the bruises on your arms?” He asked, his serious expression leaving no room for her to refuse. Lila made a show of slowly taking off her jacket, showing off the large purplish bruises on her body. Principle Damocles pulled a handkerchief from his front pocket, smearing one of the larger bruises the second the handkerchief made contact. He showed the stain to Lila, and her eyes widened in horror.

“So, she cornered and threatened you before engaging in a physical altercation, did she?” He asked.

Lila stayed silent and Principle Damocles told her, “My office, immediately.”

“But she did threaten me!” Lila tried, “She was the one who told me she would make everyone hate me. I was trying to protect myself!”

“I’ll hear no more of this. You can explain everything when your mother gets here. Miss Bustier, please escort Lila to my office.”

Miss Bustier looked at Lila sadly, but Lila was absolutely furious, “She stole test answers and hurt me once before. She even stole my grandmother’s necklace! You are going to take her side just because Adrien,”

“Mister Agreste has no reason to lie, however given his statement, I can see why you’d try to get Miss Dupain-Cheng expelled.” He frowned, “I’ve seen teenagers do a lot of terrible things when it comes to figuring out love, but I’ve never had a student try to so thoroughly ruin another’s life.”

“She is ruining mine!” Lila yelled, and Miss Bustier told her calmly, “Let’s go Lila.”

“No! This is unacceptable!” Lila pulled away from Miss Bustier’s outstretched hand and glared at Marinette, “I won’t let you get away with this. You aren’t going to threaten me anymore!”

He stood in her way with a hard scowl, blocking Marinette from her sight, “You’ll have to go through me first.”

Lila was shocked long enough for Miss Bustier to start pulling her away, and Principle Damocles turned back to Marinette, “We will get this sorted, and get the matter cleared up at once.”

“Does this mean, I’m not expelled anymore?” Marinette asked unsure.

“We’ll discuss that with you and your parents tomorrow, after we’ve spoken to Miss Rossi and her daughter. Enjoy the rest of your day Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He told her, already sounding apologetic for everything that had happened so far.

Marinette nodded at him, and Principle Damocles disappeared towards his office. Not a second later Alya had her arms around Marinette again, “I knew it, I knew you could have never done something like that!”

Marinette openly started crying, hugging Alya back tightly, “Never, no matter what she threatened to do.”

Nino gave him a soft punch on the arm, “Way to go mister knight in shining armor.”

He smiled slightly, “I couldn’t let Lila do this to her, not anymore.”

“Dude, I can’t believe you lied to your pops and took Marinette on a date without telling me. I would have had your back you know.” Nino told him.

“It was, kind of, last minute.” He lied with a little more difficulty. In the heat of the moment, the almost-lie had been easy. Directly lying was harder when all he wanted to do was run over to Marinette and beg her to forgive him for being such an idiot all this time.

He closed his eyes heavily, and almost instantly felt another body slam into his. His hands instantly went to the source before wrapping around her when her familiar scent filled him with the warmth he had always felt from her.

“Marinette.” He whispered longingly.

“Adrien,” she whispered back, crying into his chest, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was you, it’s always been you, and everything that makes you who you are.”

He held her tighter, squeezing his eyes shut before he could cry, “I love you, m’lady.” He whispered.

She hugged him tighter, pulling back just far enough to look into his eyes, “I love you, Kitty.”

His voice came out raspy, “I, I really want to,”

Her lips met his, and sparks ignited, spreading to every part of his being. He kissed her back instantly, getting lost in the girl he knew he would love for the rest of his life.

#itsagrestebug #oneshot #miraculous ladybug #adrienette #miraculous discord #fic prompts #sept 2020 #My love for them will never die

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doof-doofblog · 4 years

Text

"Ben, I Said The Corsa Keys, You - !"

Thursday 26th November 2020

Hello again everyone! I feel like I'm on a roll when it comes to these blog posts, I think I've done one a day this week, just to make sure I'll catch up! I am back in work tomorrow, so that will mean Friday's episode will be up on Monday, but from then on I'm sure I'll be completely up to date! I'm really looking forward to seeing what the next few episodes have in store for us!

Anyway, let's get started, the episode begins a the Mitchell household, as Callum, Phil and Ben gathered having breakfast, Ben appears to be looking over some kind of magazine, he seems a little bit irritable and shows his Dad in the magazine that someone has sold a car (the one Kush couldn't get away from the robbery in) and got a decent amount from it! Phil doesn't seem phased, but it seems to upset Ben that that part of the money would've made a huge difference for them all. Phil tells his son to try and forget about it, it's not worth him getting wound up over, it's better that he remains positive that he hasn't been caught by police and sitting in a jail cell. As Phil leaves the room, Callum kind of says the same thing to his boyfriend, he questions why he can't simply just let it go like his Dad also has, but Ben is adamant that he can't simply let things go, considering he knows that someone grassed their family up, and he wants to find out who! Oooo will Callum let on to what he knows? I feel like he's already got a guilty conscience right now, how much more will he be able to take?!

Out on the Square, Tina is heading out, as she leaves the Atkins household Gray seems to stop her in her tracks, I'm unsure how to look at this scene, is Gray maybe checking up on her, making sure she's leaving the house spotless? She reassures him that she's left the house looking clean and tidy and there shouldn't be anything out of place. As they go their separate ways, Tina catches up with Shirley and realises she's bought the morning paper, Tina seems pretty eager to see what's been mentioned in it. However when she sees the front page, she devastated to see that her story hasn't even made the headline, but what's an even bigger blow, is when Shirley turns a few pages, a headline appears which reads - "Councillor Beale Is Hailed A Hero For Exposing Corrupt Landlord!" - Tina is even more devastated to realise that her story has been completely and utterly twisted! But then, how the hell is Suki going to react when she sees the news headline?

Meanwhile, at the Cafe, Whitney, Stacey and Kat are all gathered around the table and the topic of subject of course is Kush. They are all completely aware that Kush is still hiding in Whitney's attic, however Stacey reveals that she keeps getting approached by Martin who's continuously asking questions about his best mate, but of course Stacey isn't letting anything slip and telling him nothing. Whitney is still concerned that Kush will be up in her attic when Sonia comes home, she questions Kat whether Kush has thought about handing himself in to the police, but surely that would be the worst idea? It's then that Kat reveals to them both that Kush has suggested that he does a runner, and has asked her to go with him, that way they would be able to have a fresh start. It appears to be a bit of shock for Stacey and Whitney - will Kat really go through with Kush's idea and leave the children behind?!

At the Carter household, Mick seems to be in a world of his own as he's cooking some breakfast. The pan is sizzling with the egg and bacon inside it, but Mick doesn't appear to be paying attention to what's happening in front of him, it looks as if his mind is completely focused on something else. Linda enters the room and manages to snap Mick out of his daze. As he brings himself back down to Earth he notices that his wife is holding another costume, she appears a bit doubtful of herself at first, saying that her business idea might not even win the Lucy Beale Award, but as soon as she mention's Max's name - Mick is quick to support his wife, informing her that she should go for the Award and she should post her new ideas online early to get more attention. Linda is surprised but yet very flattered and excited by her husband's idea and she excitedly hurries to find Ollie.

Returning to the Cafe, Peter approaches his Gran and brother, mentioning that their Dad has been mentioned in the local newspaper, mentioning that he's been accepting bribes off Suki. However Kathy is quick to defend her son and acknowledges that the news article claims that Ian refused her bribe, but something doesn't sit right with Peter - why would their Dad turn down money?! As everyone knows, money is one of the main things that Ian is obsessed with. Bobby tries his best to stick up for his Dad, but as soon he speaks his opinion, Peter turns away - as if he doesn't even want to listen to what his brother is saying. Kathy notices the tension in the room between them and she scolds Peter for ignoring his brother, Bobby tries to go after him, but has no luck in grabbing his attention. Meanwhile at the other side of the Cafe, (Can I just say how much I like the new layout of the Cafe, obviously they've done it due to Covid, but I think it looks a lot more posher inside now, I hope they'll keep it that way!) Shirley and Tina are sat together reading over the news article in the paper and discussing how Ian has managed to get away with his actions yet again, it's then that Shirley suggests whether Kathy knows something, she has seemed to noticed that the rest of the Beale family haven't seen eye-to-eye with Ian in recent weeks. She knows full well that she and Ian aren't talking, could it have something to do with the story, but Tina is insistent that that has nothing to do with it, Shirley questions her sister whether she knows something - I'm sure you guys will remember that Kathy drunkenly revealed to Tina about Ian forging her signature and re-mortgaging the Cafe, will Tina perhaps take it upon herself to reveal that story?!

Meanwhile, at the Vic, Ian is also reading the article about himself, as he makes his way into the kitchen, he finds Callum sat at the kitchen table waiting for him. He seems surprised to see him there and he begins to question whether he's there to talk to him about the article, however Callum drops the bombshell that he knows it was him who grassed Phil and Ben up to the police. Ian is backed into a corner, he questions whether the call was meant to be anonymous, but when Callum reveals that he heard the recording, to him it was blatantly obvious as to who the identity was. He informs Ian that both Phil and Ben have no idea that it was him. Now the conversation takes an interesting turn, part of me was going thinking that maybe Callum would be able to somehow convince Ian not to say anything to police - or something (I'm not too sure) but instead he appears to be asking Ian to go up against Phil and have a word with his DI! Ian is adamant he wants nothing to do with it, he doesn't want his name being brought up in the situation, regardless whether the police are so eager to nail Phil, it may mean more trouble for him also if Phil finds out it was him that grassed them up?!

Returning back outside on the Square, Kat sees Phil and Gray having a quick discussion. As Phil leaves the conversation and Gray gets onto the phone, Kat approaches Phil once again, demanding that she gets her share of the money, also repeating herself that even though the idea didn't go to plan, everything was her idea. Finally it looks like Phil agrees to give her her share (Is he just bluffing though?!) he asks her to pop round later in the day and he reveals he's been given a good price for the stolen vehicles. Kat is surprised to realise that Gray is the one who's doing all the paperwork, pricing and selling for Phil. Something is also is making me think, what is Gray getting out of it? It's not like him to do a dodgy deal for Phil, is maybe because he's helping Shirley out, who has become a good friend of his? Who knows?!

Back at the Carter household, Linda is trying to persuade little Ollie to try on another superhero costume, although the little boy seems reluctant as the costume happens to have a little stain on it. At first, Mick is supportive and trying to softly coax the little boy into putting the outfit on, however as Linda continues to keep badgering Ollie, Mick seems to lose his temper with her. He makes the valid point that regardless of her new business idea, Ollie is a little boy, their son, not a prop! He takes the little boy downstairs and Linda is left baffled by her husband's outburst. She grabs her phone and dials a number - one guess as to who she's calling - Max?!

At the restaurant, Callum has arranged to meet up with his brother, Stuart. As Callum sits himself down, Stuart is looking incredibly happy. He asks his brother whether he can keep a secret, without being obvious and giving out too much information, Callum comments that that's just what he's been doing recently, hiding nothing but secrets. Stuart looks as him in confusion, but his brother assures him it's nothing worry about. Stuart then decides to drop his secret onto his brother and reveals that hopefully in time, Callum could become an Uncle again. At first, Callum seems confused - how "in time" will he becoming an Uncle again? If Rainie isn't pregnant and Stuart hasn't slept with someone else? Stuart reveals that that part is the secret, but assures him things will come to light in due course. He tries to persuade his brother that he hasn't cheated on his wife and he isn't in any trouble, but then Callum drops the bombshell to his brother that in actual fact, he is the one who's in trouble. Will he actually tell his older brother what's been going on? Will he actually reveal that someone is making his life a misery if he doesn't do something?!

Back out on the Square, Peter as walking down the street as Kheerat approaches him as the cross ways. Kheerat happens to warn Peter on his old man being very careful when it comes to namedropping people in news articles. Peter tries to convince Kheerat that he has nothing to do with his Dad, but in Kheerat's eyes, they both share the same name, which means that they're all as bad as each other. As they go their separate ways, Kathy watches from the Minute Mart as Peter walks in, acknowledging that he's also having a row with Kheerat as well as having one with his younger brother. Peter then reveals that he's currently ignoring Bobby, Kathy tries to console her Grandson, she explains that Bobby has been through so much since his return to the Square, and he's literally been trying his best to make up for everything he's done, even though nothing would be able to bring Lucy back, he's trying. Once again she explains to him that Bobby looks up to Peter, his opinions and thoughts mean more to him than anyone else's. She tries to persuade him not to push him away, as one day she's sure that he'll need Bobby as much he needs him right now.

Returning to the restaurant, it looks as if Callum has revealed everything to his brother. He explains as he's literally being torn apart by his DI trying to get his hands on Phil, but then also wanting to be able to be a part of the Mitchell family with Ben and Phil. It seems that in his heart, Callum can no longer go through with this, he needs to put it to an end somehow. Stuart states that there is nothing on file at the moment in time, the DI is only using Callum to get to Phil, he suggests if he wants to remain loyal to his boyfriend and his Dad, he needs retrace his steps and get rid of anything that may cause their arrest. Once he's done that, they can focus on DI Thompson.

The next scene shows Kat visiting Kush in the attic, explaining that Gray has come to see him. Kush seems shocked to hear that Gray is there to see him, considering he's a type of solicitor. However, when Kat reveals that it was Gray who managed to sell on the vehicles for Phil, it gives Kush and bit more of a relief that Kush knows exactly what has happened and agrees to talk to him. As he makes his way downstairs and they all gather in the kitchen, making sure that Kush can't be seen from any police waiting outside. Gray reveals that with the current situation Kush has found himself in, he could be looking at 5 years in prison! Considering he already has a charge of GBH from early on in the year, to add this crime on top would just make things a hell of a lot worse for him. He apologises that there's nothing more he can do, leaving Kush and Kat devastated that they could be looking at time inside. As Gray leaves the room, Kush feels that their only option now is to do a runner, sooner rather than later. As soon as he urges Kat to along with him, she stops him in his tracks and states that basically HE hasn't got a choice, not her. What is she saying? Will she end up running away with Kush or stay to be with her children?!

Returning to the Beale household, Bobby is once again scrubbing his hands aggressively and counting as he does so, Peter enters the house and finds him washing his hands again. It looks as if what his Gran has said has made perfect sense to Peter, he reveals that he doesn't want Bobby to torture or punish himself any longer, he's suffered enough over the past few years. He admits that Bobby was just a child when he killed Lucy, and that his actions were in fact an accident, the thing that really screwed everything up was everything that happened afterwards. All the lies surrounding the family and the extent they went through to cover everything up. Bobby can't believe what his brother is saying, its a look of shock, confusion, relief, he admits that he's been waiting for his brother to say this for a very long time. It's then that Peter happens to mention their Dad and Jane (Oh I wish Jane would come back one day!) should've done more to protect and look after him, he then asks a really interesting question - "We know who's really to blame?!" - Is he meaning their Dad???!!!

Meanwhile, Mick and Linda appear to be in their car, pulling up in a car parking lot. This scene really worried me. Linda is speaking to her husband, asking why he never told her the truth about what he got up to whilst visiting Lee. Ahh so it was Lee she called up earlier! She reveals that instead of being mugged, he was actually in brawl at a bar. Mick then reveals that the men he fought with were flaunting over a young girl who appeared to be half their age, he admits he just lashed out as they should've known better. Ah! So everything is making sense! He lashed out at them because he's STILL realising what happened to him during his childhood. Linda begs her husband that in future, if he ends up bottling everything up, he needs to talk to someone - whether it'll be her, Tina or Shirley, she asks him to promise her he'll speak to someone. Mick is quiet as Linda pleads to him, he simply responds with a "Yea!" - Linda then gets out of the car to do their shopping. As she walks away, Mick is left alone in the car, however this is where things are looking really dark for Mick. He watches his wife walk away in the rear-view mirror, then his attention is brought to the brick wall which is placed a few yards in front of him. Suddenly he looks dreary, he looks sad, he brings his foot to the car's accelerator and begins to rev the engine slowly. He places his hand against the steering wheel and his eyes are focused on the brick wall ahead. Tears enter his eyes as he revs the engine more repetitively and loudly, suddenly it looks as if he darts straight towards the wall - BUT Linda appears out of no where and grabs the shopping bags from the car. Had he simply been debating whether to commit suicide? With everything that's going on in his personal life right, is he really feeling so low that he simply can't find a way out or a way to cope that he wants to end his life?! If he's seriously having suicidal thoughts, he needs to tell someone, he NEEDS to tell someone what's happening, what's been going on, otherwise these terrible, horrendous, suicide thoughts are going to get worse and possibly get a lot more reoccurring.

The final scene of this episode is bloody nail biting!!! Phil finds Ben in the Arches he's asking him to give him the keys to a certain vehicle he can pass on to somebody. Ben throws him a set of keys and they discuss getting something for lunch. When Ben leaves the Arches, with the door slightly open, with both Phil and Ben out of sight, Callum finds his chance to sneak into the Arches to remove the recorder. As he makes his way inside, he slowly goes to grab it from under the table, however he hears Phil calling Ben from outside, it looks as if Callum slightly panics and hides in the sink hole in the Arches, as he does so he leaves a mess on the floor. As Phil enters the building, having realised that Ben gave him the wrong set of keys, he notices all the paperwork that has fallen on the floor, as he begins to pick it up - Callum watches nervously, however when gets all the pieces together, he slightly looks up and notices the recorder which has been bugged underneath the table, he simply removes it and Callum is left devastated - realising that Phil is going to be asking some really serious questions.

How the hell is Callum going to dodge his way out of this one? I mean, part of me is thinking that that scene could've gone so many different ways. He's earned Phil's trust, so why would he attempt to hide? What would it matter if Phil found him in the Arches, Callum could've easily said he was looking for Ben? Also Callum could also prove his loyalty to Phil and Ben and possibly coming clean but then maybe destroying or getting rid of the recorder?! What do you guys think? What is going to happen now Phil has found the recorder? How his Callum going to explain this?

I hope you've all enjoyed reading! I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next! I'll be back on Monday, I promise! Thanks again for reading, it means the absolute world! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #philmitchell #benmitchell #callumhighway #stuarthighway #ianbeale #peterbeale #bobbybeale #kathybeale #katslater #kushkazemi #grayatkins #whitneydean #mickcarter #lindacarter #tinacarter #shirleycarter #staceyslater #kheerat panesar

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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In fair Verona, our tale begins with ORELLA GARCIA, who is TWENTY years old. She is often called OCTAVIA by the CAPULETS and works as their INITIATE. She uses SHE/HER pronouns.

They say that rebellion is the fire that sets the world aflame, defiance is something to be admired and revolution births greatness. Orella sneers at such things, at the foolishness that people exhibit so blatantly when they think themselves greater merely because they go against the grain. What is to be gained by rebellion? Lucifer fell, Eve was the cause of damnation for her children, Cain spilled blood -- and that was when the world first dawned, look at all the horror that follows. As a child her parents tried to foster that spirit of rebellion, they wanted to see that fire LIGHT in her eye, wanted to see the expression of her ire against the world in words or paint. But she saw the world for what it was, welcomed the structure that it provided and left her parents decidedly disappointed. For their sake, though, she tried to excel in the tasks they gave her and in the talents that they hoped she would have. When they paid for a piano tutor, she excelled in leaps and bounds until SYMPHONIES wrote themselves upon the tips of her fingers. Her voice coach had tears in his eyes when she sang arias and hymns. The private ballet instructor was left speechless when she performed her first adagio. They say that meekness and obedience were virtues to be scoffed at, shackles imposed by society to a system that made no sense. Why, then, did such BEAUTY pour forth from this singular soul who held so tightly to her virtues and principles?

Her grip on her virtues was white-knuckled -- she clung to them to a fault. They were her greatest virtue and the cause of her most despondent fall. Her parents thought they could outwit the Capulets, that they could extort them and their Spanish connections would protect them from the IRE that would undoubtedly follow. But when the Capulets are wronged, their vengeance can only be likened to the wrath of God, and so the Capulets took with little regard for what the Garcia family would have left to salvage. They were left DESOLATE -- a once high-standing family ruined by their own hubris, a tragedy written and foretold by the great Greeks. But they had one thing left to them, their daughter, Orella, a gift from God if ever there was one. Her parents did not need to beg or PLEAD, because the path had been laid out for her since she was young; all she could ever do was obey. For her service, the Capulets would allow the Garcias a modest stipend, something to subsist on but nothing that would ever allow them their lavish villas or their champagne-filled nights. Any fool would have thrown their fit, kicked their heels at such a ransom. Their freedom for SALVATION? Their will for a roof over their head? But she folded her clothes, set aside what treasures she was left with and waited for the Capulet car to roll into the driveway of their foreclosed home while the moon and stars overhead looked on at the pitiable people. Her parents were reduced to nothing while Orella, through her own gifts and graces, would be redeemed once more.

One would have thought that someone as virtuous -- as pristine, as crystalline and pure -- as Orella might have balked at the crushing pressures of the mob. Soft, privileged hands weren’t made to wield glocks and KNIVES in the slums of Verona, they were made to paint with acrylics and oils, never with blood. Yet she was as artful with a knife as she had been with a paintbrush, as tactful with a gun as she had been performing her pas de deux’s. Whatever task was asked of her, she performed without a bat of her lashes, accepting the authority that was lorded over her, maximizing her efficiency and timeliness in completing it. Her comrades scoffed at her, at her willingness. Her VICTIMS balked and paled when they saw her approach them in the dark of the night. The quiet pride that in her service made her rise above them all -- and here it was, that trademark Garcia HUBRIS, taking away from what could have been unabashed glory. They thought her haughty and aloof, sneering down at those who didn’t have the skill, the talent, for performing tasks to absolute perfection. And they were right -- she did.

From one team to another she shifted, one capo after the other sang her praises, only for her soldati to gnash their teeth and turn against her. When she had first started her service as a soldato, she excelled in leaps and bounds but now the SHACKLES of her achievements are chafing her wrists. There is no compromise to be found though -- they wanted her to do worse simply because it is easiest for them, just as they wanted her to rebel, to raze her virtues for the sake of their comfort and REPUTATION. But the longer they leave her to fester in mediocrity, the more they will realize what a mistake that will be. The Capulets have only begun to scratch the surface of her potential, catching not even a glimmer of the greatness she is capable of. Everyone fears what they can’t comprehend, and her future GLORY is far too lofty to conceive of. Whatever God has in store for her though, Orella knows that it will be nothing less than grand. After all, the meek were meant to inherit the earth.

PIERO RUIZ: Ire. There is one thing that can be said of Orella Garcia that could never be said of Piero and the Ruiz family: she earned every moment of victory, every second of glory that has been associated with her name. But what has Piero done, save for running rampant like a bull in a china shop? He leaves destruction in his wake, a mess of broken limbs and horrified witnesses to pay off. She knows his story and knows his game; never would she have thought that God would have them walk paths parallel to one another. To be blunt, she doesn’t like it. What makes it all the more unbearable is how he seems to thrive, regardless of the restraints that are placed on him, or the obstacles that she has placed in his way -- carefully and cautiously. But she has made a vow to herself to rise above, to not let the buzzing of meddlesome wasps distract her from her objectives. Still, there is a part of her that can’t wait to lay the nest to waste.

MAEVE PETRE: Cousin. There is little that she knows about her cousin, save for a couple of golden, faded memories. The family ties between the Petres and the Garcias were complicated, but they always tried to get the younger ones together, as though that alone could decimate generations of uncomfortable familial conflicts. Presently, though, Maeve was the only family that she could recognize. Her parents were a disappointment, and all others were loath to dirty their hands by dipping it into the grime of the mob. Since becoming an initiate, though, she has been able to witness the changes that Maeve is undergoing, and can’t help but admire her determination to do as her cousin does -- obey what structures there are and carry out whatever tasks there are, no matter how it tears at your soul. The more time she spends with the Petres, the more she begins to realize that there are many things she is willing to compromise on, but perhaps family...is not one of them.

PRIAM TARAVELLA: Sponsor. She thinks that there is an understanding between them, an intellectual compatibility that is rarely recognized and reciprocated. When he became her sponsor, there was a sense of relief that settled over her, lifting the weight from her shoulders and her chest. But then there was that implicit fear that she would be forever indebted to him, or that he would leverage this, would press his advantage just to see the limits that the young Garcia initiated might have. Instead, all she found in his was excitement and understanding, a partnership between two like minds that were ready to see the world place itself at their feet, and all others bow beneath them. There is the constant worry though, that no good thing will ever last long, so she waits for the other shoe to drop, for whatever might be treasured to be stolen away. She prays that he doesn’t forsake her, that this singular oasis in the midst of hell does not leave her adrift.

POPPY: Mark. Perhaps it is her restlessness come to fruition or her desire to defend what family she has against all inklings of mishaps, but she knew that the moment Poppy laid her eyes upon Maeve, the young soldato would need her cousin’s forethought and protection. Maeve wears her heart upon her sleeve, but Orella hides a knife up hers. She’s been watching Poppy for a while, has been taking note of her daily schedule, her different contacts, what kind of cars she prefers to lift. Her restlessness has proven advantageous in more ways than one. While she gathers intel for the Capulets, she also makes a point to note when her and Maeve’s paths cross. Orella has yet to make her first Montague kill, but as time passes, she wonders often if Poppy might just be the first one.

Orella is portrayed by ELLA BALINSKA and was written by ROSEY. She is currently OPEN.

#ella balinska fc #lsrpg #literate rp #bio rp #mafia rp #orella garcia #cap #c #w #ow #o

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unlockthelore · 4 years

Text

Inspiration

Kurama has never asked Hiei to change but he inspires him to everyday.

Chapter 9 of 18 for the fic Sarayashiki Scramble on Ao3, for more updates follow the sarayashiki scramble and/or growing pains tags.

In all Hiei’s years, he’d never met someone so infuriatingly conflicting as Kurama. Stories of the Legendary King of Bandit’s ruthlessness and cunning paled in comparison to the levelheaded and fairly kindhearted approach of Minamino Shuuichi. While there were some moments where Hiei believed himself to be a fool at believing this human child could be the aforementioned legend, Kurama tended to surprise him.

And if there was one thing Hiei didn’t take well to — it was surprises.

Still, as with many things concerning the redhead and life itself, Hiei adapted. He wasn’t happy about it it, especially when it pertained to following Ningenkai customs. How humans could walk about unarmed confused him. Entrusting their safety to other humans donning uniforms and weapons that could lay waste to them. Simply the thought of entrusting his own safety to someone else was laughable — although Hiei made certain exceptions in the right capacity.

Humans were strange.

How they could allow slights to their person to go unanswered was maddening. No matter how small or snide the remark, for someone to move their lips so flippantly, they should be willing to take what was given to them in any capacity. More than once, when overhearing someone mocking Kurama or worse yet — Shiori — Hiei decided that neither of them needed to answer it. He would gladly sully his hands if it meant defending them. But Kurama stayed his hand with either a look or a carefully intoned call of his name.

Telling him to leave it be or to let them speak. After all, words meant very little without the power to support them. It never set well with Hiei at all and confused him how Kurama could continue on so easygoing. Stories depicted him as a merciless being who would punish those for even the tiniest of insults.

Yet time and time again, Kurama brushed it off as if it were beneath him to even think of reacting. Carrying on with naught even a backward glance. Seldom though, he did rebuke in his own backhanded way and with the kindest of smiles. Though that was commonly toward those who insulted his mother.

Shiori was an exception to his carefully crafted composure, as always it seemed.

Nevertheless, Hiei didn’t understand this or him. Mysteries seemed to sprout around Kurama as quickly as his flowers bloomed. Each one more mystifying than the last, and just as entrancing to solve.

In spite of his quirks and shortcomings, and the irritation that came with his allowances to humankind and their flaws, Hiei was almost certain Kurama would occupy him for some time to come.

─── 幽☆遊☆白書

Crackling copper embers burn at Hiei’s fingertips as he pressed them tightly together, watching with a dutiful gaze as the embers merged together to form a thin blade. From tip to hilt, the copper embers solidify and steam wafts from the blade grasped tightly in Hiei’s hand. His own flames wouldn’t scald him — a thinly veiled threat of what would happen otherwise — issued to the youki traveling the length of his arm to keep the weapon materialized.

However, the bookcase and several other flammable objects in Kurama’s bedroom wouldn’t be spared if they connected. Nor would Kurama’s mood be favorable. Perched on the ledge of Kurama’s bedroom window and gazing out at the cloudless afternoon sky, a thought crossed Hiei’s mind as he spun the fire knife in hand.

With a sideways glance at the redheaded boy currently leafing through one of his notebooks while sitting at his desk, Hiei decided to rehash an old discussion in a matter-of fact tone. “… They wouldn’t be able to trace it back to me.”

Without looking away from his textbook, Kurama shook his head and Hiei sighed.

Their latest discussion brought on by a few delinquents who rudely interrupted Shiori during one of her shopping trips. Needless to say, she didn’t have to worry about them for long but Kurama didn’t agree with Hiei making the teens fight amongst themselves with the Jagan. Hiei pointed out that he hadn’t raised a hand to them but if he was able to use a weapon, it would have deterred them sooner.

And hours later, while grateful that Shiori was safe, neither of them could come to an agreement on what was and what wasn’t safe to use against humans. Or rather, Kurama wouldn’t concede to allowing Hiei to use physical means.

Never one to be defeated, Hiei studies Kurama silently before absorbing the blade into his hand. The embers fizzling out and the skin of his palm heating until they were gone.

“They wouldn’t die.”

A little scare, a few cuts, but not death. He had enough control of his flames to cool them after all. The message would be received with enough harm to deter any future idiotic inclinations.

Still, Kurama shook his head but this time he spoke. “Things are handled differently here, Hiei,” he said in that gentle understanding tone, one equally as disarming as it was irritating.

Hiei scoffed. “Doesn’t seem like it,” he muttered, averting his gaze to the skyline as he watched a pair of birds taking flight over the rooftops and into the distance.

In the moments when his guard was dropped, he could see the similarities between the Ningenkai and Makai. Threats lurked around every corner and the strong found it in themselves to believe they had the right to trample over the weak. No one would care for you unless you did so yourself. And children were abandoned seldom without any further thought to what their lives would become. It was sickening.

And in some ways, it felt like home.

In spite of that, there were more rules in the Ningenkai than the Makai which kept it relatively safer — if not a bit harder to create mayhem without consequences.

Building discomfort at acknowledging Kurama’s point was stamped out, pride had no place here and loathe as Hiei would admit, he did put his pride aside often when Kurama was involved.

Sighing heavily, Hiei clapped his hand over his knee and tipped his head back against the wall. “Fine, no knives…”

His mind was abuzz with potential substitutes. Anything that Kurama would agree with. Staring down at his fingers, he rubbed together the tips still numbed by his flames’ dissipation. With his flames, he could make things and destroy things, but his energy could be used to grow. It wasn’t until he started practicing with Kurama’s seeds and the youko’s encouragement that the ability flourished. It wasn’t perfect but Hiei could manage the basics.

Memories recounted of the junior high student brandishing a sword made out of grass flashed in his mind. How quickly he moved with it, skilled and precise with his movements. Absently, Hiei felt for the wound. Long-since healed, it still ached now and again when he thought of Yatsude and his first meeting with Kurama.

A mistake that he wouldn’t allow to be repeated but a welcomed one.

With a side-long glance, Hiei curled his fingers to his palm and muttered. “Your seeds.”

Just as before, Kurama didn’t look up but the slightest tilt of his head showed Hiei had his attention. “What about them?”

“How do you coax them from your plants?”

Hiei knew nature could be stubborn and unyielding toggle up what could help it grow. It was easiest to gather seeds during the fall and winter when plants were beginning to die, and less likely to put up a fight. Yet, even then, they fought tirelessly against someone with a destructive nature. Several of the wounds he received from trying to retrieve seeds from Makai fauna on Kurama’s behalf told the tale of that.

Kurama lowered his book and eyed Hiei curiously, saying nothing for a long moment.Hiei wasn’t sure what he was searching for but Kurama didn’t divulge either, glancing at the vines tucked behind his bookcase and around the corners of his room.

“They’re happy to give them to me on their own,” Kurama explained, his gaze wandering back to meet Hiei’s own, glimmering with curiosity. “In your case, convincing them would be necessary. Being kind and gentle would help.”

Hiei wrinkled his nose. “Kind and gentle,” he repeated dryly.

Two words that weren’t associated with him in the slightest. No. Hiei and ‘kind and gentle’ in the same sentence just seemed wholly unnatural. Humming offhandedly, he folded his arms across his chest and tapped his forefinger against his bicep, mulling it over. Coaxing seeds from plants would be harder than he thought if that was necessary.

“You have a good heart, Hiei. They’ll recognize that if you’re genuine.”

Tenderly and with no small amount of confidence, Kurama’s voice carried to Hiei’s ears but Hiei was disbelieving of his words. Hiei’s head cocked to one side and he shoved his hands to his thighs, grasping the thin material of his pajama pants. It takes a great deal of remembrance to not tear through it with his claws. Also recalling that Shiori had bought the garments for him and he didn’t want to ruin them.

Still, Kurama’s words toiled in his mind long after the redhead’s attention was stolen by his studies once again.

Numbly, Hiei muttered. “What?”

He glimpsed a small smile tugging at Kurama’s lips as the youko turned the page as if entirely unaware of the chaos he caused in Hiei’s psyche. Then, with a tender look and a brightness to his eyes, Kurama regarded him.

“You’re a good person. My plants will recognize that as long as your heart is true.”

A good person?

Hiei squinted at him, blurring to Kurama’s side in an instant with his hand pressing to Kurama’s forehead. Despite the warmth of his palm from absorbing his flames, he could still feel Kurama’s temperature. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary.

“… You’re not sick,” Hiei muttered, unsure if he could handle another episode of the youko’s illness, recalling how touchy and blatantly honest Kurama was last time. Palming Kurama’s cheek, Hiei swept aside red tresses and gazed into green eyes appraisingly. “You’re not poisoned either, or under some spell..”

Kurama’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated and Hiei could see himself reflected in their depths. A number of emotions flickering across Kurama’s face until he seemed to settle on confusion.

“Hiei…” Kurama uttered, so breathily and with such care that it gave Hiei pause.

Warmth crept up to Hiei’s cheeks and he tried to ignore the imploring way Kurama eyed him.

“What?” He grumbled, pulling his hand back as if burned and folding his arms, casting a wary glance at Kurama’s patient expression.

Never one to miss a beat, Kurama’s hand reached out to him and Hiei’s breath hitched as slender fingertips soft and smelling of roses and earth traced along his cheekbones, palming his cheek with such care as if Hiei would break from a harsher touch. He swallowed thickly, centering his gaze on Kurama’s lips before reminding to look at his eyes.

Intensity in a green gaze overshadowed by an immense emotion that Hiei couldn’t bring himself to understand. Not now at least. Or when they were this close and everything was this charged.

“Regardless of how you view yourself, you are a positive force.”

Hiei blinked at him, the warmth creeping onto his cheeks staining his skin. He jerked his head away sharp enough to give himself a pain but any slower and he might have sunken into Kurama’s touch. Nails pricking his skin as he held himself tightly to keep from doing anything sentimental.

“Ridiculous.”

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Kurama’s crescent fallen expression and the gradual shift of the youko’s attention to his books. Stepping back to put some distance between them, Hiei fidgeted, finding himself unable to look Kurama in the eye.

What did those words mean?

He wasn’t a good person — not by any stretch of the imagination.

He wasn’t like Shiori — comforting, wise, understanding, patient, gentle.

He wasn’t like Kurama — sentimental, mysterious, quick-thinking, open-minded, soft-hearted, kind.

They were entirely different from a vast majority of the souls that flitted in and out of his life. Different enough that some part of him wanted them to stay. And they were changing him or at least giving him things to think about. Shiori often brought up different topics, taught him different things, all in the name of him being able to care for himself. And when put that way, he didn’t mind the lessons about Ningenkai customs. If he could survive in this realm without having to bother with anyone or anything, then so be it.

But Kurama taught him the other half.

How to remain calm, how to smile, how to laugh with abandon. It was strange. They never asked of him to be different and yet their presence made him want to do things differently.

Hiei shifted from one foot to the other, gazing at the window and the latch as if it would solve his problem. If he ran from this, where would he go?

What would he do?

It wasn’t as if this feeling was a terrible one.

It was simply.. overwhelming.

Even if he would never be fond of humans — he liked one specifically — and they may not be superior but they were something.

A good person.

Is that what he was becoming?

Hiei shuddered at the thought, a raucous beat of his heart shaking him to his core. Simultaneously wanting to confront Kurama for what he meant and be close to him led to Hiei wandering behind Kurama and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. The youko making a soft noise that Hiei almost missed with how tightly he held him and buried his face in his hair. Inhaling the scent of wildflowers, vanilla and the spices from Kurama’s favorite tea.

Allowing the scent and the comforting pull of Kurama’s youki to ease his trembling. It was much easier like this. If Kurama couldn’t see his face, and if he was the one who was caught, it was easier to speak.

“Is something wrong, Hiei?” Kurama asked, concern touching the tender way he spoke Hiei’s name and shaking the fire demon once more. A light squeeze to Kurama’s shoulder his only response. “Hiei?”

Courage mustered and heartbeat evening out, Hiei muttered. “… You make me… want to be better…”

Kurama didn’t turn to look at him and didn’t move much aside from a small shift in his seating, likely to make the disparity between their heights a bit easier. “Better?” He prompted, an airiness to his voice.

Was better the right term?

Kurama did inspire him to be better in certain ways — stronger, faster, strategic — all so he could defend their territory and them. Hiei swallowed down those words and shook his head effectively rubbing his face against Kurama’s hair. No, that was too close to home.

Home.

Trying again, Hiei spoke with a firmer tone. “You inspire me to be… different.”

“Ah, I see..” Kurama said after a short pause, laying his hand atop of Hiei’s own on his shoulder. “Well, it’s the same.”

“The same?”

Kurama’s hand squeezed his own, fingers almost interlacing with Hiei’s and the fire demon allowed the small gap between his fingers for Kurama’s own to fit. Mesmerized and in awe of how easily and right it felt for Kurama’s hand to be interlaced with his own.

“You bring out a better side of me,” Kurama said, and Hiei could practically hear the smile in his voice.

Peering around to have a better look at Kurama’s face, the youko gave a side-long glance to him with that sweet smile that lit up his eyes and rounded his cheeks.

“… You mean that,” Hiei muttered, whether in awe of Kurama’s words or his expression, he wasn’t sure.

Kurama seemed amused by his awe and chuckled. “Why would I lie to you?”

Hiei huffed. There were a number of reasons he could think of. Though any of them were difficult to associate with Kurama, especially after all they’d been through together. As his lips parted, the words he kept tucked behind lock and key began to slip out.

“You said things worked differently here, but you’ve never asked me to change…” At seeing Kurama’s eyes widen, Hiei felt the warmth building in his cheeks and quickly looked away. “I appreciate it.”

He wasn’t sure what expression Kurama had or how the words were taken but from the light dance of nimble fingers across his cheek, Hiei felt a surge of warmth.

“I’m fond of you as you are,” Kurama said carefully. “You don’t need to change yourself, not for me.”

Hiei felt no need to pick apart those words, deep inside himself he knew they were true. Genuine. And some small part of him was overjoyed to hear them. He tilted his head away from Kurama’s fingers and buried his face against the back of Kurama’s neck, pressing a smile against his skin.

#yu yu hakusho #yyh #kurahi #kurama #hiei #fanfiction #my fanfiction #growing pains #sarayashiki scramble

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rallis-fatalis · 5 years

Text

Balancing the Scales

One of the oldest and simplest ideas I've had regarding Rallis. It was even one of the first doodles I did. Just where did she get something as rare as Third Age dragonhide?

Growing up in circumstances where silence and sticky fingers were one of the only ways to stay alive, stealth and thievery came naturally to Rallis. Stealing a piece of jewelry from someone's nightstand wasn't really much different from stealing food from the Black Knights that set up base in her old home of Taverley Dungeon, though she would argue the latter was drastically more dangerous. She didn't make a habit out of thievery, but she also wasn't blind enough to think the act was a wholly unjust one. Sometimes stealing is the only way to eat. Sometimes, it's the only way to fix a problem. And in this case, sometimes it's the only way to set things right. This issue started with theft, so it was only right that's how it was resolved. Perhaps rebalancing the scales would be a good way to describe her form of thievery. It sounded noble and Guthixian enough to pass at any rate, though she was sure Kaqemeex and Sanfew would most certainly disagree.

'I'm sure everyone would be pretty mad at me for this, actually,' Rallis thought. She could only begin to imagine her mentors' scowls if they knew she was breaking and entering some rich man's house right now. Kaqemeex would be so disappointed while Sanfew gave her every chore under the sun as punishment. Denulth would probably do the same, only fifty times worse, especially if he found out she was using her old uniform to do the deed. Tarnishing the name of the Imperial Guard with theft?! He'd probably beat the crap out of her himself. It was the darkest and sleekest set of clothing she had, though. Perfect for blending into the shadowy alleys of Ardougne at night. And Reldo... Actually, she had done worse around him. He'd be angry but also unfortunately used to her antics.

Rallis shook her head. Getting distracted with such pointless thoughts would get her caught. It was time to focus.

Her destination was in sight, a giant manor that dwarfed every other home in Ardougne. It was dark and quiet, one might think it was abandoned were it not for the meticulously manicured lawn that surrounded it and the fresh bowls of food for the guard dogs. What she sought was inside, and luckily for her, no one was home. Or perhaps, unluckily. She had been told whenever the residents weren't home, they had extensive security measures activated and ready to catch anyone who dared to do exactly what Rallis was doing. In the infamous city of thieves, such precautions were standard amongst the rich. Even from her hidden alley across the way, Rallis could feel the traps that guarded the house. There was magic afoot.

'Good thing I went and not him.'

The person who requested this job of her, Kangai Mau, was a man from Karamja, and although he seemed skilled and smart enough, Rallis didn't think the jungle man had the tools or knowhow to navigate a city, break into a house, and disarm traps made of magic. Perhaps she was simply gullible, but Rallis couldn't help but be filled with the noble desire to help him after hearing his sob story of some rich snob named Handelmort a sea over stealing his tribe's most sacred treasure, a small wooden totem, only to have it gather dust in some cabinet or be shown off and fawned over like some well-groomed mutt.

That brought Rallis here, deftly climbing the fanged gates that drew the manor's perimeter. She swore she made not a single sound, and yet the guard dogs stirred anyway. They must have smelled her.

She sniffed her clothing and glared at the patrolling hounds. 'I don't smell that bad.'

As quietly as possible, Rallis slid down onto the lawn and snuck to the back side of the house. She had already gotten a good look at the place in its entirety from the outside and planned her route accordingly. The front entrance definitely wasn't the way to go, though it usually never was. It was locked with something she most certainly wouldn't be able to pick. That left the back entrance or a window. Rallis frowned when she realized the windows weren't just locked, but barred. They were barred in a pleasing crisscross manner, making them appear almost tastefully stylized, but barred all the same. She could have chewed through them with ease, but she'd rather not do something that noisy and reckless. Back door it was.

Rallis slithered over to the door and diligently searched for any kind of trap. The first she found was blatantly obvious, a wire when touched rang a bell that alerted the guard dogs. She disabled that quickly. The next was some sort of pressure plate in front of the door, very well hidden in the ground. She didn't want to learn what it did and there was no way to disable it from outside. She made sure not to tap even the tip of her claw on it. Next she examined the door proper and it made her scales itch. The lock and handle were the worst offenders, sending a jolt through her as she brought her hand closer.

'Well, there's some kind of magic here, that's for sure. Just like I thought.' What kind was the only question. Being what she was, identifying and disabling the magical trap was no problem at all. The magic dispelled, Rallis got to work on the lock proper and the door quietly creaked open. One peek inside the shadowy home told her it was teleportation magic, she could feel it in the air. She snickered wondering if the gardener had ever accidentally set it off and get warped to jail or wherever it went. There were even more security measures inside of similar nature that were just as easy to unarm. A displaced rune here, a spell interruption there, for a creature of magic such snares were child's play to disarm. The most difficult trick was a snare meant to stun and hold captive anyone who walked upstairs, and even then Rallis took care of it with ease. Physical traps would have been much more of a problem, but this rich fool decided magic was the way to go.

She smirked as she crawled up the stairs. 'If this is how complicated human traps can get, this kinda work will be easy! All this magic and they can't even catch a single dragon. Hopping the fence was more difficult!'

Rallis reached the second floor and took a long slow look around. It was like she stumbled into someone's private little museum. Figures and carvings stood behind glass cases all around the room. Elaborate paintings decorated the walls alongside preserved flags and coats of arms and the like. Elegant armor and weapons made a proud display on their racks, waiting to defend against intruders. Rallis was sure everything was all very nice and expensive and rare, but she didn't care. It wasn't what she came for. She came for the simple wooden carving hiding behind a locked case, looking so out of place amongst the stuffy fanciness of everything else.

Rallis studied the case and snorted at the simple easy to pick lock. 'You go to the trouble to enchant and trap your own house, but you give the actual treasure a single boring lock?' With a quick flourish, the lock broke, the wooden totem was free, and Rallis was on her merry way.

Or she would have been had something not caught her eye.

Preserved in a frame hanging between two paintings of knights and royalty rest something beautiful. It was a set of armor, a white shimmering top and skirt, glowing almost mystically in the moonlight streaming in through the window. It sparkled like starlight and Rallis couldn't help but be drawn to it. The beauty quickly lost its appeal when she realized the armor was dragonhide. Each scale was meticulously polished until it shone brightly. Even the dark greens that mingled with the silvery white sparkled. She felt awful such a beautiful dragon was killed just to be skinned and stitched into this.

She placed a hand on the glass. 'A white dragon... How pretty you must have been. I'm so sorry this is how your story ended.' She scowled at the case and removed it from its perch. 'It shouldn't have been. Humans don't deserve something like this. The only thing that should have dragonhide is a dragon!'

Rallis smashed the frame to pieces. The glass sparkled just as beautifully as the scales in the moonlight. She shook the shards off her new armor in awe, gently running a hand down the smooth white scales. It felt as magical as it looked.

Remembering where she was, Rallis snapped herself out of her reverie and scurried passed the traps, out of the manor, over the fence, and sped off to Karamja, the city none the wiser to what she had done. She almost wished she could see Handelmort's face when he realized what stealing earned him.

Kangai Mau was ecstatic over the return of his tribe's artifact. There was genuine happiness on his face, not the greedy hungry smile of a collector Rallis presumed Handelmort would have. He headed off into the jungle giddily and Rallis knew she had done something right, no matter what anyone else thought. She bounced off happily as well, eager to take a closer look at her own treasure.

Hidden from prying eyes, Rallis laid out her stolen dragonhide on the bed of her rented room. It really did look beautiful. She tussled the short butterfly sleeves, arguably her favorite part. It was strange, the clothing felt oddly soft and delicate and yet sturdy at the same time. There was magic in it too, she could feel it, a protective force that felt strong but also kind and warm. She shrugged off her black uniform and tried it on. It would certainly need to be tweaked in some places (especially the leggings) and need holes cut in the back for wings, but it otherwise fit like a glove. Rallis purred at how nice it felt. It looked good on her too. It felt right to wear, as odd as it may have sounded. Some might have seen a dragon wearing another dragon's scales as appalling and distasteful, but where else should dragonhide be other than on an actual dragon? It felt almost fulfilling to wear, like it completed her.

Even with her wings uncomfortably pinned against her back and the long sleeves and leggings not fitting quite right, Rallis couldn't bring herself to take the outfit off. She curled up on the bed for a nap, tired from her escapade and having been awake for two days without break. She sighed contently over the feeling of her new armor and thought perhaps she would have to continue wearing it for a while.

#osrs #runescape #my writes #oc tag

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ofindcmitability · 6 years

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𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐫, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐰, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧.

YO EVERYONE MEET WEISS’ NEW DEMON CHILD. get your sunglasses yall this is about to get DARK and only realziing afterrwards how lil sense that mkaes but sH

18 years ago a boy named Xion was born from a negotiation between a darklighter and a demon. Well, more like the demon’s father and a darklighter. The demon being a manipulative man who feared his own age and inability. Without hesitation he gave away his daughter to create a more powerful lineage. Her name was Luciana, and despite her status as a demon she was arguably kind.

Smile like an angel, walk like an assassin. Despite his father and grandfather’s influence in his life and her own hate for them Luciana always made her son feel loved. Even in the darkest of moments… like when his father insisted on his first kill being before he even reached double digits. A measly five year old with blood stained on his hands.

His mother had been frightened. Luciana knew the day would come of her son’s first kill, sooner then later. She had been expecting tears and nightmares, yet none of it came. The fact that her child did it was no qualm unnerved her, and ultimately it distanced them.

Young Xion hadn’t understood it then. None of it,. His mother distancing herself for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. What was so wrong with killing? His father and grandfather did it all the time. He hadn’t realized the full weight of what taking a life was, just what was gone from this world now. Such a thing seemed entirely normal.

Years passed, and Luciana grew more and more distant with each kill Xion completed. By the time he was nine Xion had little experience with true emotion. He remembered bits of love his mother gave, and the pride his father salivated at each kill. Yet, there was little more he knew. Until the day one of his victims begged for their life. He was a frail man, crying and pleading. He spoke of a child younger then Xion , sobbing that he had to get back to this child. They were all eachother had. This grown man cried and begged for Xion to spare his life. For the first time in his whole life, Xion hesitated to kill. It was in that moment his grandfather swooped in for the kill. It hadn’t been by his hand, yet the man remained Xion’s’ victim nonetheless. Xion had been the one to beat him so close to death, regardless if he had taken the life or not. A child younger then himself was now alone in the world. A thought that didn’t sit well with him despite his attempt to ignore it.

Eventually he confided in his mother about the emotions plaguing his mind. For the first time in a long time, he saw her smile. She hugged him, and held him in a way he had forgotten was possible. Now elder, even if not by much, he had been able to figure out this was what LOVE felt like. Xion enjoyed it. Bursting with more confidence then he had ever seen his mother wear, Luciana declared that they would leave together. Start new lives, be new people, with new names. She was glowing with excitement, and Xion found himself caught in it too. However, he had worries. What if they find out? Aren’t you scared? His mother had always been scared, it was hardly the first time she thought of leaving. Luciana stared at him for a moment, eyes resting on his face and all the emotion showed on. As long as you’re there, as long as you keep feeling. I’ll have the will to go on. It was the happiest Xion had ever felt.

The two of them spoke throughout the next week, being as discreet as possible and making plans. Luciana confessed that she hadn’t chosen his name, and always wished she had time to find something else to call him. A name with a beautiful meaning. Musing on how she always liked the name Flynn, but was never sure what it meant. She wanted him to have a name that inspired him. Xion told her he’d take any name she gave him, happily.

They had been planning to leave early in the morning on a Monday. No one was around early on Monday mornings. They’d run as fast as they could, Luciana had a witch set up to cast them with protection spells to block the locator kind. They even had a whole set of plans if something were to go wrong. Ranging from Xion binding what powers he could to finding a good witch and hoping for the best. None of the plans had prepared him for waking up to find his mother gone.

His father began to explain, him how Luciana knew as long as she was with him she’d never be safe. That her leaving on her own was best for them all. Xion called bullshit. Then, his father smirked. He told him how his mother hadn’t behaved, how she needed punishment. She was alive. Relief flooded him like nothing he ever felt before. For a measly moment, that is. His father went on to make one thing very clear, Xion would never see her again. In a fit of rage the small boy attacked his father. That was how he received his first scar.

Years went on, and in them he took every opportunity to spite his father and grandfather. From refusing kills, not obeying to his own name, to blatantly plotting their murder in front of them. Sometimes it was to be what one would describe as ‘a little shit’. Other times? Deliberately, he’d be disrespectful to either of them. Making sure it was before those they thought of as peers.

By the time the boy was 12 he riddled a number of scars, and unbridled fury. He’d learned, sometimes he had to be obedient. That he had to choose his moments to strike. If he went on pure rage like he had in the past it’d result in nothing. He wanted to find his mom. He was imbued with a goal. Make sure his mother was alive, and once she was safe he’d kill his father and grandfather. Simple. Except… it really wasn’t.

It was nearing his 13th birthday when his grandfather offered him a deal. One day with his mother with potentially more to come. If he killed his father. The boy, refusing to be called Xion any longer, agreed fervently.

In their years apart his mother had changed drastically. She looked so tired, so broken, so exhausted by the simpleness of being. There were even specs of grey in her hair despite her young age. And yet… when her eyes laid on him she smiled. That smile he had been craving to see for the past four years. The two embraced, and for those next moments he had been happy. It was a shame that it was stolen so utterly soon.

A creature appeared in a swirl of blue orbs, lightening shot from their hands and in a instant he saw the life drain from his mother’s eyes. Then the creature attacked him. He had been far too shocked to defend, and ended up with a scar on his face. It was only when they realized he was only a child that they came to a stop. They still wanted him dead, that much he was sure of. It was more along the lines of, what would others think if I killed a child? It was a ethics thing, and a image thing. None of which he could give a damn about. It was during his second attempt at a attack that he was struck unconscious.

The young boy awoke in what could arguably be called a cage. There were crystals surrounding him, he recognized them. A long time ago his mother had mentioned to stay far away from them, that they were a trap to demons.

Then he saw the dick who killed his mother, a young man with blonde hair and some others. All arguing, the gestures toward him gave away what it was about. The blonde man seemed to be dominating the discussion until finally he himself was approached.

The boy was resigned. He was going to die, that much was obvious. His revenge un-achievable. Then the man introduced himself. Wyatt Halliwell he said, and then asked for the boy’s name. Something the boy had long let go of. Then the man, Wyatt, went on to say that it was alright if he didn’t have one or didn't want to tell them his. Instead he asked what he preferred to be called in the meantime. The boy thought of his mother, those words she spoke that had ignored hope within him. As long as you’re there, as long as you keep feeling. I’ll have the will to go on. Even if it was simply rage at the one who killed her, all those tied to her death. Even if it was simply that emotion alone, he had to go on. That was his will. William. He had said, speaking like he was tasting the name and deciding whether he liked it or not. William Flynn.

They didn’t want him, Will knew. Not really. He was volatile, he was a murderer, and he could whip up poison that could kill them all easily. Yet Wyatt insisted, and as time went on it became apparent that Wyatt, or Professor Halliwell as the rest of the students called him, had a certain way of achieving his goals.

Time went on, and something happen akin to bonding. Will only thought akin because he had never bonded before. Yet there Wyatt was, watching out for him in a way he had no idea what to do with. It was nice though. Strengthened with time and action. When Wyatt proved time and time again he was trustworthy, and each time it shocked Will. Even when the Elder who had murdered his mom vanished, when he had started laughing like a madmen and everyone else looked appalled. Wyatt hadn’t, though he wasn’t experienced enough with emotion to decipher just what the blonde had been feeling that day.

Sometimes Will wondered if it had been his grandfather or father who tipped them off. Or maybe an underling. Maybe his father had found his grandfather’s plan. Maybe it hadn’t been a plan at all, but a trick of loyalty. Or maybe they simply feared that as he grew he’d get too powerful and slay them both. Which he would of if he could, in a instant. In fact, Will still had plans to do so.

Other times he wondered what would of happened if Wyatt hadn’t stood up for him. Dead, probably. Except then he remembered the Elder’s penchant for twisted versions of mercy, and delusions of the ‘greater good’. Who knew what would of happened.

WOW THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME HOLY SHIT

#apx:intro #child abuse tw #death tw #abuse tw #violence tw

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princee-ace1 · 6 years

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CH. 002 - What Was Missing

When the raindrops come tumbling, remember you’re the one who can fill the world with sunshine.

Title: Bringing Back the Memories Series: Kingdom Hearts Pairing: You/Roxas, You/Sora

---

Suspecting eyes follow you and your friends the second you enter Market Street. You hear the accusing whispers, your names tied with words of theft. It’s an unsettling and unjustified feeling.

Hayner ignores the looks and turns to face you guys. “Here’s the plan.”

There isn’t much any of you know about this mysterious thief. If you ask around enough, someone is bound to have some information on them: what they’re after, what they look like, where they went. The five of you decide to split up. Hayner takes off on his own before anyone could stop him, Olette drags Pence with her when she spots a new sale at her favorite shop, and you and Roxas are left staring after them.

“I guess it’s just you and me.” Roxas winks as he says this, and you try your hardest to will away the blush coloring your cheeks.

As usual, the shopping district is bustling with life: mom-and-pop shops are open for business, odd jobs are listed in bulletin boards for hired help, townsfolk are hanging out and running errands, and a trolley slowly circles around the entire area. You and Roxas enter a few different shops together, only to be met by unwelcomed anger and disappointment.

“Yo, Roxas. Never thought you’d do such a rotten thing.”

“Oh, it’s you Roxas… Please don’t let me down. You used to be one of my favorite customers.”

“I’d like to believe you but … who else would steal that stuff?”

An exasperated sigh falls from his lips, and Roxas suddenly rests his head against your shoulder. In despair, he grumbles, “I’m not a thief.”

You pet him gently. “I know you’re not, Roxas.”

Still, even you have to admit that out of everyone in your group, Roxas is taking most of the heat from those stupid rumors.

“It’s no fun having everyone suspect me, ya know.”

“Hang in there. We’ll get through it,” you encourage gently, trying to comfort him. A short silence falls between you two, and you feel his slow breath against the crook of your neck. “Hey, remember that time when those seven little men thought we were trying to steal their diamonds? We never could convince them we weren’t a couple of thieves.”

Roxas raises his head and blinks at you. “I don’t remember that.”

“Really? We were in the mines beyond the scary woods, and we spent almost an hour chasing after them because they kept running away from us. One was really mean and grumpy, another kept sneezing all the time, and another had this dopey look on his face…” You pause as you recall another important detail of the memory. “Then again, I was really young when that happened.”

It wouldn’t have made sense. Roxas looks the same as he did back then.

“Silly,” he muses with a soft chuckle. “But thanks. I can always count on you to cheer me up.”

You return his smile and shyly admit, “You make me happy too, Roxas.”

Something catches his attention, and you turn to see what he’s looking at. At Auntie Elmyra’s candy shop, you can see she must have lost sight of her cat again. The poor, old woman is calling out its name, worriedly looking for it.

“Roxas,” you begin, pointing to the awning above the shop where the missing cat is casually licking its paw.

“I got it!” he replies, and the two of you help return the pet. Auntie Elmyra is grateful, and even helps with your investigation. She also had something stolen from her, and when she tells you what they took, you and Roxas exchange looks. Even she isn’t able to say the missing word.

Eventually, the five of you regroup. Hayner, Pence, and Olette weren’t able to find any new leads; no one is willing to cooperate with the top suspects of the crime. However, while you and Roxas can confirm what the thief is after … none of you know why or how they’re doing it.

“There’s only one group we haven’t talked to yet,” you mention quietly. Hayner scowls when he catches on, but even he admits you guys need all the help you can get.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees. “To the Sandlot.”

-*-

Twilight Town’s Disciplinary Committee -- a small group composed of the biggest, most self-righteous bullies around. Although they like to use their power to push people around and do whatever they want, they’re highly regarded by the adults as shining examples and diligent peacemakers.

Yeah, right. You roll your eyes at the thought.

It’s no secret that you and your friends dislike them. When they’re not busy trying to run the town, they’re out to terrorize your group … which is how the Usual Spot became your safe place to begin with. Accusing you and your friends for petty theft is surely something they’d do.

Peering behind a nearby wall, you see Rai, Fuu, and Vivi gathered in front of the town’s message board. None of them notice they’re being spied on as you and your friends make a vertical line around the corner of the building with Pence crouching at the very bottom, Hayner leaning above him, you looking over his shoulder, Olette standing on her toes to see over your head, and Roxas standing on top of a trash bin..

“Seifer and his gang might know something. I’d hate to ask them though,” Hayner remarks sourly.

Just then, someone grabs you and Olette by the elbows and pull you two out of the way. In the same motion, the person roughly shoves the boys to the ground. A familiar voice taunts, “What’re you sneakin’ around for?”

“Are you guys okay?” you ask as you and Olette help them back to their feet.

Meanwhile, the person draws attention to your group. “Hey guys! The thieves’ve been checkin’ us out!”

“What’d you say? You better take that back!” Hayner growls at what he calls you guys and runs straight toward them. Roxas is the first to catch up to him and quickly holds him back.

“Ha, nice comeback there, blondie,” Seifer -- the head of the Disciplinary Committee and Hayner’s sworn rival -- mocks despite being blond himself. He instigates the others to heckle and continue to call you all thieves, each insult lighting a fiery anger under your skin.

“Oh yeah? You guys started that rumor!” Hayner roars, lunging forward as Roxas struggles to hold him back.

“Roxas,” Seifer sneers, blatantly ignoring Hayner, “you can give us back the --- now.”

Rai is quick to agree. “Yeah! You’re the only ones who would take it, y’know?”

“That was undeniable proof that we totally owned you lamers. And you wanted to erase it. That’s why you took it. Am I wrong?” Seifer snidely continues. “So, what did you do? Burn it? Or perhaps you asked your girlfriend to hide our glorious --- for you?”

His haughty gaze falls on you. Worried, Olette touches your arm as Pence mutters under his breath, “It’s not worth it, Haruna.”

“It must’ve been embarrassing, right? Seeing how your chicken-wuss boyfriend was defeated like that. Maybe it wasn’t Roxas that wanted to get rid of the --- after all. Maybe it was you, Haruna.” He scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “Ha, not like we need some --- to prove that you’re losers.”

Roxas abruptly drops Hayner, causing him to fall on his face. When he looks at Seifer, there’s a look of pure anger in his eyes. His voice is low as he warns, “Don’t talk down on her like that.”

“What a look! Did I hit a sore spot?”

“Replay,” Fuu suggests, causing Seifer to burst out in laughter.

“Now you’re talking!” He picks up a couple Struggle Clubs -- toy weapons that resembles cushioned baseball bats -- and tossed one by Roxas’ feet. He points the other at his chest; his stance ready for a fight. “Take it. I just have to own you again.”

Roxas takes a breath and steps up, however you grab his hand to stop him. “Roxas, you don’t have to do this.”

However, he squeezes yours and murmurs, “It’s okay. Trust me.”

“Isn’t this romantic?” Seifer interrupts sarcastically. “I guess if you get down on your knees and beg, maybe I’ll let it slide.”

Roxas lets you go and continues to step forward. Mocking laughter reaches your ears as you watch him get on his hands and knees and bow before them.

Seifer crosses his arms and smirks. “Magic mirror on the wall, who’s the biggest loser of them all?”

“Roxas!” Hayner starts, but Pence stops him.

You’re not sure what to think -- if Roxas is swallowing his pride and doing this to avoid further conflict or to save face for your group. Then, you notice the calculating look on his face. When he stands, he’s holding the Struggle Club that Seifer threw him. The determination in his eyes show he isn’t going to back down easily.

You and your friends smile excitedly, sending your cheers. “Come on, Roxas!”

Just as loudly, Rai shouts, “Get ‘im Seifer, y’know!”

Seifer strikes first. His club hits Roxas, who blocks him at the last second. While Seifer is doing all the hard hitting, Roxas manages to stand his ground and stay on guard.

“Come on,” Seifer instigates, his movements strangely delayed. “Quit playin’ around and fight.”

He hits a distracted Roxas in the face, nearly making him fall backward.

“Roxas, focus!” Pence shouts, his voice also sounding a bit off.

Clenching his teeth, Roxas sees Seifer swinging his arm down for another hit. At the last second, he parries the attack and knocks the weapon right out of Seifer’s hand. He holds his club out at Seifer’s chest, breathing hard as the committee stares at him in disbelief.

When did … Roxas get so strong?

Rai and Fuu are quick to defend their leader. With wild gestures, Rai insists over Hayner and Pence’s cheering, “Seifer’s not feelin’ so hot, y’know! He’s just savin’ his strength!”

“Tournament decides,” Fuu adds, pointing at a poster for the upcoming event later that week.

With a grin, you pull out your camera and decide to capture this victory. “Roxas, look sharp!”

Seifer yells and blocks his face with his hand. Rai steps forward to take your camera away as Fuu squints with an annoyed glare. Roxas looks over at you, momentarily confused, but cracks a small smile for you.

You take the shot, and just when the proof develops, a flash of white circles around you from out of nowhere and snatches the camera out of your hand.

“What was that?”

“The thief?”

“Whatever it is, it took my camera!”

“Get ‘im!” Hayner shouts as you and the others chase after the culprit.

-*-

“Which way did it go?” Hayner asks as the five of you end up back at the Market District, frantically looking for the thief.

The culprit is so fast … you don’t even think it’s human.

Just what the heck IS that thing?

“There!” Roxas shouts, spotting something in the distance. He takes off toward the woods as you follow after him. As you stare at his back, you suddenly see him in a different attire.

He wears a black coat and carries a key-shaped weapon on one hand and holds onto your hand with his other. You two aren’t in Twilight Town anymore … actually, you’re not sure WHERE you are. It’s raining so hard and everything is all black and gloomy. Your chest tightens in panic, and his face is unreadable. The two of you are running away from something … someone? Who is after you? Where is he taking you?

Seeing the strange vision makes you dizzy, and you try not to faint right on the spot. You look to where your friends are and they seem … frozen. It’s as if time has suddenly stopped and the world became silent.

You lose feeling in your legs and fall on the ground. There’s a ringing in your head that you can’t stand, and it makes it so hard for you to focus on anything.

Footsteps approach you. The sound seems to be the only thing you can hear as they come closer to where you’ve fallen. You turn your head to see who it is before you pass out.

All you see is a man in a black hooded coat.

-*-

You’re falling.

A bright light surrounds your small body, warm and blinding. Echoes of loud voices and soft whispers fill your ears as you continue to descend from the sky like a shooting star. They tell you not to be afraid, but you dare not open your eyes. You’ll get hurt…!

“Float!” a woman’s voice shouts, and the air drastically changes around you. You’re floating now, and when you slowly open your eyes, you see your shadow circling the tall, green grass below you.

“Hurry!” another voice shouts -- a male this time -- as they run toward you before the hastily-casted spell breaks.

“I got her!” yells another voice belonging to someone younger than the first two. Like a bubble, the short spell suddenly ends and you feel yourself falling again. A frightened scream escapes your lips as you brace yourself to land face-first on the ground.

Instead, two arms catch you and brings you to his chest. He breaks your fall and he tumbles on the grass a little; his breathing a bit heavy from running to you as fast as he could. Gently, he murmurs, “It’s okay, I got you.”

“Are you guys all right?” the woman worriedly asks as she and a man around her age finally catch up.

“I’m okay!” the person holding you answers. You finally peek up at him; his side-swept hair is the color of dandelions. Then, he looks back at you with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen and curiously asks, “Where did you come from?”

-*-

You wake with a jolt. Sitting up, you frantically check your surroundings: the rusty pipes, the wooden crates, the rumbling of a train passing above you. It takes you a moment, but you realize you’re back at the Usual Spot.

How did I get here?

Across the room, your friends are huddled together. Hayner is holding something in his hand as he asks, “What’s this?”

“I was his first customer after he took over the shop,” Roxas answers fondly. “So, we took a picture together.”

“It’s a really nice photo,” Olette compliments. She gasps when she realizes what she said.

“Hey! You just said ‘photo’!” Pence brightly exclaims. “We’ve got the word back too!”

“So, what happened out there?” Hayner inquires, but Roxas shakes his head. By now, you’re sure they’re talking about the thief you guys were chasing.

“Not much to say,” he admits, though you have a feeling he might be hiding something. “The pictures were just lying there.”

“Then how do we prove we weren’t the ones who took ‘em?” Hayner grumbles as he inspects the next photo. His annoyed tone changes to a playful jeer. “What do we have here?”

“You look happy in this one, Roxas,” Olette teases.

“Do not,” he cuts in, obviously embarrassed.

“What’s going on?” you ask, finally deciding to join them. Roxas is quick to snatch the photo from Hayner’s hand and hide it from you. However, he couldn’t hide the knowing looks Hayner and Pence exchange with each other.

“Haruna, you’re awake! Are you feeling better?” Olette asks with concern. Supposedly, you were chasing the thief, tripped over a stick, and knocked out. She stayed behind with you as Hayner and Pence went to catch up with Roxas. By the time they reached him, he was in front of the Old Mansion. The thief was gone and he was picking up all the photos that were scattered on the ground.

Apparently, that’s all the thief took from everyone too -- photos.

Your brows furrow in confusion. You’re certain you fell but … you don’t remember it happening like that.

“So, like, anybody else notice that all the pictures are of Roxas?”

All of you fall silent at Pence’s observation. Roxas stares at him in disbelief. “Are they really all of me?”

“Yep. See? Every single one.” He shows you all the photos that’s been stolen, and it’s true -- Roxas is in every one of them. You feel the blood drain from your face when you realize something else about the pictures.

These are all the ones I took myself!

“Oh, so that’s why everyone thought it was us!” Olette remarks.

“You mean Seifer didn’t go around accusing us after all?” Hayner trails off and your friends begin voicing their concerns, hoping that whoever is stalking Roxas isn’t digging through his trash, peeping through his windows, or bugging the device in his room.

“Gimmie a break!” he yells in response, though he swears he’ll be more careful.

“Wouldn’t it be weird if the thief wanted to steal the real Roxas or something?” Pence muses, clearly not making the situation any better.

Hayner snorts. “C’mon, get serious. Why would anyone wanna steal a bonehead like Roxas?”

“Oh, thanks!”

Laughter fills the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to crack a smile. The stolen photos, the stolen words, the strange thief … if what Pence says is true, why would they be interested in Roxas? Why doesn’t anyone else feel a little bothered by this?

“Oh, hey, guys! Here’s a picture of all of us.” Olette holds up a picture of the five of you in front of the Old Mansion. She places it back in the empty frame, and you smile a bit.

This was taken the day the five of you guys split up in the woods for a childish dare. First one to arrive at the gates of the haunted manor would take a picture, and the losers have to buy ice cream. You remember how scared you were, thinking the trees had creepy faces on them and jumping at every little sound you heard. And how Roxas held your hand and encouraged you to be brave. The five of you ended up arriving at the same time, relieved and happy that you all made it in one piece and decided to all be winners that day

Hayner suddenly nudges your side. “Yeah, I look pretty good, huh?”

Pence laughs. “Not seeing it.”

From across the town, bells from the clock tower chime the hour. You and your friends fall quiet as you count each toll and realize how late it’s getting.

As you guys lock up and get ready to leave, Olette reminds you all that you still need to get started on that summer assignment. Hayner waves it off as Pence laughs.

“I’ll return all the missing photos to everyone before I go home. There’s something I need to ask them anyway,” Hayner tells you as he clutches all the pictures in his hands. “See you tomorrow!”

“Okay, see ya!”

“Later!”

Olette and Pence walk together in another direction, waving goodbye to you and Roxas. Once the two of you are alone, Roxas turns to face you. “Okay, what’s up?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been really quiet since you woke up. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

There are a number of things on your mind: the thief isn’t human, the story of you falling over and losing consciousness is not what happened, the photos that's been taken around town with Roxas in all of them, and all the weird stuff that’s been going on with the people and the town.

“Roxas, all those pictures that’s been stolen…” you trail off a bit, deciding to at least start with this. “They’re pictures that I took with my camera. Some of them were in my memory book at home.”

His face pales a bit. Roxas doesn’t seem too worried about something supernatural stalking him, but for them to go after you is a different story. “Are you sure?”

“There’s something strange going on in this town,” you start, wanting to tell him everything.

But something stops you.

The setting skies become much brighter -- blindingly brighter -- making it hard for you to see.

It couldn’t have been more than a few moments, but when it all clears up, you find yourself in your bedroom and dressed in your night clothes. A new day has risen, but … you’re sure you were just with Roxas at the Usual Spot.

What’s happening to me?

To be continued… ⇷ prev | news ✩ tip jar ✩ ao3 | next ⇸

#kingdom hearts #bbtm

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onceabluemoonwrites · 7 years

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KHR girls: Where Canon Went Wrong

Hey guys! As a writer of fanfiction and someone who loves writing female characters, I’ve been trying to narrow down just why even the not-blatantly-sexualised female characters in KHR leave such a bad aftertaste. In canon, mind you, not fanon. I’m shocked by the magnitude of what I found, actually. It’s… So incredibly BIG.

Every time I write a KHR woman for the first time, I… Flounder, and feel lost. And they often have this bad aftertaste when reading canon material, and I wanted to know WHY so I could narrow it down and know EXACTLY what to fix in my fix-canon fics.

The parts in italics are by @i-w-p-chan .

Buckle up, this is a long post!

Fighting

Bianchi & I-Pin both use food (more on the women & the kitchen association under Kitchen). Bianchi is one of the most dangerous assassins in the world, so that’s a pro. Sadly, it’s one of the few pros.

I-Pin has stepped out of the mafia/triads by the time she’s fifteen, as shown by her TYL version. While this is a very sensible choice and obviously what Fon wanted for her, this makes her another female character who technically stopped fighting while all the males around her kept fighting on. Kyoko, Haru, Hana and Nana are the most featured non-mafia characters. All female, decidedly not fighters.

Chrome should be commended for her skills- she was able to impersonate Yamamoto perfectly. That takes an enormous amount of practice and eye for details. More on Chrome: See Kitchen.

M.M. fought and was defeated by the only other girl fighting.

Bluebell. Bluebell DIDN’T participate in choice. Zakuro didn’t either, but Bluebell was the only female funeral wreath.

Yuni only wins from Byakuran by self-sacrifice in the Future Arc.

She was scared of actually dying until Gamma came over to her. so she didn’t even get to do THAT by herself.

On Pantera: She’s obviously deadly, but Longchamp keeps LAUGHING at her assassination attempts like they’re nothing!

Introductions

Kyoko and Hana’s ‘’generic conversation about a guy’’. (Chapter 1) (See me fixing this conversation here)

Nana putting Tsuna down like he has no future? This doesn’t fit with EVERYTHING we later learn about her! (Chapter 1)

Haru ends up saying she wants to MARRY Tsuna by the end of her introductory chapter.

Bianchi’s ‘’Reborn, Reborn, Reborn!’’ and just… Trying to kill Tsuna because he’s just an obstacle between her and her boyfriend? See me when I’m done screaming out of frustration for this abomination of an introduction done to a woman that should, by all means, be one of the most deadly assassins in the world.

Longchamp’s ‘’Ugly girlfriends’’. (More about this under Because All Women Care About Are Men (and Family))

Chapter 227, the first image of the real six funeral wraths! Everybody looks freakin’ terrifying EXCEPT BLUEBELL, SHE’S JUST SLEEPING??!!

Shittopi-chan. Okay. The second female member of the Simon. That’s more women than the other sets of Elements have! I’m happy with that, but I would have been happier if they hadn’t sexualised Adel so much. And while I love Shittopi and her amazing steadfast belief in herself and her great confidence and wouldn’t have her any other way, it stands out to me that well… The first thing that happens after her introduction is Gokudera calling her a U.M.A. A freaking Unidentified Mysterious Animal.

Handled well: Adel (chapter 283), Oregano (Chapter 112, reasonable), Lal Mirch (Chapter 112), Daniela (Chapter 158), Chrome (Chapter 113- Her entrance was fabulous).

The Kitchen

There’s nothing wrong with the kitchen. That’s where the knives are, after all! *grins* But sadly, as a woman, I know more than a thing or two about ‘’women belonging in the kitchen,’’ and ‘’make me a sandwich, woman.’’

This is the shit I’m talking about:

Kyoko & Hana: Cooking class. Only girls. Ew. No.

Also, in the future arc Kyoko, Haru, Bianchi and even CHROME were on kitchen duty. Kyoko and Haru were “doing what they could,” as is said in canon, but with how much time Bianchi spends with them, couldn’t they have learned how to sharpen knives or something? Besides, it was vital for them to know how to protect themselves in order not to be a liability.

Pretty much, I wanted to see Kyoko and Haru do ANYTHING besides cooking and doing the laundry!

And CHROME?! Sure, she was sick, but what a mighty coincidence! The only female guardian ending up in the kitchen while the rest of them trains and powers up!

And what was especially f*** awful about the future arc was that it TRIED TO JUSTIFY it by “we are doing what we can.’’

I love the bonding moments between the girls in the future arc, BUT WHAT WAS BIANCHI DOING THERE? EVERYBODY WAS BUSY! FUUTA WAS ALMOST NEVER THERE! FUUTA IS A TOO-TALL 18-YEAR-OLD BABY WHO NEEDS TO BE PROTECTED, WHY BE YOU OUT THERE WHILE THE EXPERIENCED HITMAN IS IN THE FREAKING KITCHEN?!!

There is another thing about the girls being put on kitchen duty: you realize how many people they’ll be cooking for and cleaning after? And how many of them are growing teenagers constantly training? That’s not something any 14-year-old girl would know how to do just by virtue of being a girl.

Consider: if Kyoko ever cooked meals at home, it would be just for her parents and Ryohei and herself. That’s four. Haru is a lone child, that’s three. The situation just doesn’t make any sense! Why couldn’t they have like, had a rotating schedule for cleaning and cooking shifts alongside training? Or heck, why isn’t there any worker tasked with the kitchen duty?

Kept in the Dark

Excerpt from Bianchi’s wiki page:

’‘Bianchi again comes to the foreground as a tutor right before Choice, but this time to Chrome. They train in hand-to-hand combat, with I-Pin to help out. During the girls’ strike, she supports Haru and Kyoko’s decision to stop doing housework until the boys tell them what’s going on. However, she also tells them what the boys are most likely thinking, and convinces them to call the strike off.”

She was Gokudera’s tutor before. But Bianchi convincing them to put the strike off? That was a slap in my face, lady! They’ve got a RIGHT to be pissed off, they’re far away from home, in the middle of a war, and you keep them in the dark! They don’t know what’s going on at all! AND THIS:

“Bianchi is first briefly seen watching Reborn worriedly when he awoke from his dream, and later seen again observing while Nana is angered at Tsuna for badmouthing Iemitsu, his father. Later, she was seen carrying an unconscious Nana who fainted after being hit by Iemitsu’s blood while wondering why Nana had to go through such an ordeal. She then requests that they make it so that when Nana wakes up, she will think it was a dream.”

Nana- seemingly obvious, has an overseas husband, “airheaded”? My God. No. Not to mention what the freakin’ anime did with her. All expressions GONE like that! Lal’s place as one of the strongest seven in the world was stolen by Colonello, no matter how well-meant it was.

Sexualization

Adel’s ZIPPER.

Iris Hepburn seduced a couple of scientists to do what she wanted- not manipulated, they say she “charmed and seduced”. Ugh.

Also, not truly sexualized, but definitely need to be noted: Bluebell’s nudity (See Young girls, old men, nudity and being creeped on) and that one scene in the anime (I can’t quite recall if it was in the manga too) in which Gamma remembers Aria.

How? Oh, just, you know, him crawling through her open window shirtless, and her sitting up in bed, clutching the bedding to her obviously naked front while aiming a gun at him.

Also, what is it with Chrome and being attacked by tentacles? First Mammon with the tentacle illusion, then Glo Xinia!

Also, the nude shots of the girls in some very pin-up girl poses in the bathroom scene of the Future Arc (chapter 237) were horrible!

Young girls, old men, nudity and being creeped on

The KHR thing with young girls just… *shiver* For a show about fourteen-year-old kids, there are a LOT of creepers.

Chrome is the biggest victim of it, though sadly, not the only one. Glo Xinia made me so f*** uncomfortable- honestly, he was creeping on Chrome too. The Simon arc and Chrome with Daemon sends my skin crawling every time.

Also, the Byakuran hypnotizing Yuni? Yeah. Older guy controlling younger girl, the whole thing giving you the creeps? Chrome and Daemon, anyone?

Also, you remember Bluebell’s introduction? When she was climbing out of the water and one of the other Funeral Wreaths (I don’t remember which one) telling her something about proper lady manners or something along those lines?

On Bluebell: I checked (chapter 239) and not only does Zakuro comment on her flat chest! Bluebell gets angry at him in a rather childish manner, but when she calls out Kikyo to defend her, he goes: “Zakuro’s just lashing out because he’s jealous of how cute you are.”

Zakuro: “Not likely.”

And then KIKYO SAYS: “Now, Bluebell, you are a girl, so how about you stop spreading your legs in that unsightly manner?”

And Bluebell’s only reaction to this is to close her legs (she was naked, but if she’s already naked in their vicinity, then what? It’s obviously normal for her? Not to mention that’s she’s naked during her INTRODUCTION SCENE?

And the weird thing is, while I’m happy they do treat her like a child, she’s fifteen! They make comments about her chest! And the “treating her like a child” thing is mostly not seeing her as a woman from Kikyo’s standpoint- aka, she’s not sexualized entirely.

It just f*** me up because they still make comments that are really sexist and could be seen as sexualization- not to mention that it’s that kind of freaking patriarchy superior bullshit that KEEPS her from growing up! My gosh) and complaining more about Zakuro!

Also, was it just me or were the Gamma and Yuni overtones rather romantic? Because they felt like it. And Yuni’s what? Fourteen? Thirteen? Fifteen if we’re pushing it? That’s ANOTHER young girl and an older man.

Yeeppppp. from A-Z from their ‘I feel about you the same way my mother did’ (which??? is big ?????????) until Yuni sacrifices herself.

Disease and Disability

Sick characters? Injuries, disease and mental illnesses not caused by battle wounds? Here’s a list:

Yamamoto (broken arm, depression)

Gokudera (trauma)

Hibari (though technically Sakura kura was administered by a weapon too)

Tsuna (skull disease- caused, once again, by weapons- the dying will bullets)

Ryohei (ADHD heavily implied)

Byakuran (What’s happening in his head? I don’t know, but it certainly wasn’t good for his mental health)

Chrome (no organs, repeatedly a problem when Mukuro does not come to the rescue)

Bluebell (parental abuse through neglect, paralyzed legs and trauma from seeing the car accident that ended her brother’s life)

Luce, Aria, Yuni (Arcobaleno curse, results in early death)

Lal Mirch (the only Arcobaleno visibly seen suffering the effects of Byakuran’s anti-Arcobaleno gass or whatever it was)

Lavina (fatal disease).

I love representation of disease and disability if done right, but looking at the list and the topic of this post, I’d say my point has been made. Also, an interesting observation: While the men do seem to deal with mental illnesses, the rest seem to be solely resting on the shoulders of the women.

Because All Women Care About Are Men (and Family)

Bianchi’s few star moments were mostly dominated by statements about love and her ex-boyfriend- though the future arc had her being AWESOME!

Akiko Irie- Shoichi’s sister. Wanna know what her wiki article says? This is under “History” :

“Not much is known about her but it is known that she has a boyfriend.”

Because that’s obviously all we need to know! Don’t even get me STARTED on Longchamp’s girlfriends- 'cause that’s their role! Girlfriend only! (Not to mention the “oh he falls for ugly girls,” thing. Like, seriously?)

Elena is near perfect- great ideals, hints at layered character- but even she is in the end almost solely remembered for the fact that she was Daemon’s wife/lover. She was clearly a vital member of the Primo generation, yet no guardian and completely forgotten because nobody recognized her? Tsuna must have been vetted extensively on the past bosses and their family as the Vonogola heir, yet he didn’t recognize her or had any idea about her existence.

Magi- the Simon child in the last Cozart memory in the Simon arc- Cozart stated that he and Giotto believed that Magi’s descendants would someday be able to laugh together with the Vongola descendants. He and Giotto talked about this? Why not their own descendants (besides the fact that Cozart is obviously gay for Giotto, but that’s never confirmed)? Why think about Magi’s descendants? She’s a child! Once again: are you going to start this early with “that’s the only thing we need to know about this female side character”?

Major pet peeve: MM being pitted against female characters. I still loathe the MM-Chrome interaction in the future arc where she slaps Chrome with all of my being.

YES! Like, the only interaction we’ve seen from MM is her swooning over Mukuro, her fighting Bianchi, her threatening and/or slapping Chrome OVER MUKURO and her complaining to Fran about him pronouncing her name wrong.

M.M.’s wiki entry personality summary:

‘’She cares a lot about fashion and money, and prefers to date rich men. M.M. can be blunt and has a short temper. Despite this, she does have a caring side. She clearly has an interest in music.’’

Curse of the Rainbow arc? Oh, she’s there! But what a surprise- Levi’s interested in her and she’s all like: I’ll go on a date with you, but you’ll have to pay me for it!

Levi: The price is too high!

There’s nothing wrong with hookers, it’s an honest profession, but as far as we know M.M. isn’t one!

Adel’s canon relationship with Julie. While Julie’s appearances have been mostly Daemon in disguise and therefore not actually good source material, the way she was reduced to a blushy mess, losing all composure suddenly over him… It felt like they took away a part of her.

Adel should be the one to have people being reduced into blushy messes and composure-losses over her.

Chrome is subject to Mukuro’s whims. For the clearest example: Mukuro’s behaviour in the future arc. However, this eventually does lead to Chrome learning to stand in her own power in the Inheritance Arc. However, on the Inheritance arc: Chrome is the one abducted. Chrome is the one creeped on by Daemon.

There are things that I have a bone to pick with, the first one that pops into my head is how the girls are just there to cook and clean in the future arc. and then the part when the girls are in the bath and they see the wound Chrome has from training, I don’t remember the exact wording of the dialogue at that moment, but I remember that it made me want to punch something.

I found the accompanying scene:

Mochida treating Kyoko like a freaking prize and Kyoko never getting to punch him for it.

The list is endless.

Saviors

Kyoko gets rescued by Tsuna from Mochida. TYL!Kyoko gets rescued by Tsuna!

Haru is saved from drowning by Tsuna!

Chrome is constantly being saved by Mukuro, Ken and Chikusa. Her very life depends on this. Next to her organs, see Glo Xinia and many other instances.

This list would be VERY long if I went after every single instance in the manga.

Character Development

Where is my female character development? 'Cause I’m only seeing it in Bianchi, Chrome, Adel and Shittopi!

Conclusion

The Cervello are one of the few where little is to be said about. Daniela is the only non-villain(like appearance) besides Mami. Mami, who is one of the only female side characters that’s actually handled well. She’s believable, she’s the traumatic nightmare haunting Enma.

Oregano is also handled reasonably well (though I have to say, people, PLEASE stop making her the woman Iemitsu cheats on Nana within fanfiction). Sepira is good!

But the rest? The headlines in this post speak for themselves.

What I need, my friends, is for Operation: KHR Fix It Female to start Right. Now.

If I’m wrong on any of these points, guys, please tell me, because I’d LOVE to be wrong! To quote @i-w-p-chan: I need my fucking war axe.

#khr girls #khr #chrome dokuro #bianchi #suzuki Adelheid #Sasawaga Kyoko #Haru Miura #Bluebell #M.M.#Lal Mirch #Lavina #Shittopi #Oregano #Sawada Nana #I-pin

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twxlightbeforedawn · 7 years

Text

°☆.。“...because this is what friends do...” | a meta by Vi °☆.。

||. one thing that i will never get over is how much this scene means, not just to tempest, but to twilight. when i first watched the movie in theatres (and again a second time at home immediately afterwards) i couldn’t help but question why it was framed as a choice. because was it really? we, as viewers both of the show and of a movie, know full well what - or rather, WHO - she was going to choose. it was not a choice, and we were all well aware of it.

what we forget to remember is that, to her, it was. and it was a choice so detrimental to her character that it’s easily overlooked.

one thing that the movie does spectacularly is show us a side of twilight that we haven’t seen in years now. (at least this blatantly since the pilot episode.) it’s a side of twilight that operates on her own, even in the company of friends. it’s framed multiple times, from the opening sequence in which she (attempts) to ask for assistance in her festival, to pinkie’s (hilariously antagonizing) speech about how much pressure she has on her shoulders, to her expressions in the song “we’ve got this together”.

most obviously, however, it’s shown here:

right in front of our eyes, we are subject to twilight’s distance. in the foreground, her friends discuss amongst themselves what to do about the storm king’s siege, but even as they speak, the sounds of their voices fade, and it pans onto twilight - the sole focus - standing alone at the edge of the riverbed with the weight of what has happened clearly on her shoulders. many viewers of the film were appalled to see just how distant and callous twilight had become towards her friends by the climax and its infamous scene, but it was all spelled out for us, right in the beginning of the movie. twilight sparkle, despite her friends eagerness to tag along, is alone here. the fate of her kingdom rests squarely on her shoulders ( “i’m the one tempest wants. I’M the last princess!” ) —— but that’s a meta to go in-depth for on another day.

by the time we get to the scene in question, twilight had slipped. fallen into old habits and the mentalities she’s always had since the show’s first episode (and definitely before that.) she had gone from having many friends, to feeling as if she had none, from having magic enough to defend both herself and her kingdom, to having nothing. she wasn’t in a good place in any aspect, be it mentally, emotionally, physically, yet in this second she’s provided a choice that changes everything.

she could take back the stolen magic, giving her a fair shot at freeing her people (and herself) from the storm king’s tyranny...

...or she could save the pony who had put her into this position in the first place. someone who she knows by this point doesn’t understand what true friendship feels like. someone who feels pain and has only felt pain. someone who twilight sees herself in.

by this point in the film, we’ve seen exactly how far twilight is willing to go to protect her people. she was willing to bend her own morals for the sake of saving equestria. when the storm king stumbled, the stakes for her kingdom were just as high —— if not HIGHER —— than they had been when queen novo had refused to give up the pearl. not taking the chance to retrieve the staff from the storm king then could have meant death, and that in and of itself meant doom for equestria.

SO WHY CHOOSE TEMPEST?

“because this what friends do.”

it all boils back down to one thing. which, ironically, twilight had questioned during the first fifteen minutes of the film: who twilight sparkle is. and who twilight is, is the perfect candidate for the title of “princess of friendship”.

in the moment that twilight faces the choice of the one versus the many, she chooses the one. but she does not do this because she’s blind to the potential disaster of the choice ( the movie spent an agonizingly long time detailing exactly the opposite ). rather, it was because the choice mattered to herself.

at this point, twilight had already fallen. as stated prior, she had turned back to the mentality of who she was before she had met her friends, which later fueled her actions with the pearl. she was “...the princess of friendship without her friends”. to quote her own words, “friendship didn’t fail me. i failed friendship”. she was a unicorn without magic , but also the only pony standing in the way of the storm king’s reign. by choosing the staff, she was fulfilling the role of who she had been. in choosing magic, she would once more be operating on her own. in doing what was best for her people, she would be solidifying to herself that ostracizing herself from the friends who care about her was a RIGHT CHOICE. if she were able to defeat the storm king on her own, using only her own devices, it would defeat the purpose of trusting in friendship —— an action she has learned, time and time again to strive to uphold.

by choosing tempest, a mare who had wronged her in more ways than one, she was proving to herself that WHO SHE IS, is a pony who had moved forward from her own past; a pony who had made friends and had learned to cherish those friendships with every fibre of her being. by choosing tempest, she was acting in the same way that her friends had when she had first encountered them in ponyville. despite tempest’s past mistakes, and her abhorrence towards friendships, she was acting just as the mane six had towards herself so long ago. by saving tempest and giving up the staff, she was choosing to spread the same light that had touched her when she too had been alone, friendless, and in pain for it.

so even if it meant death at the hands of the storm king, this moment would be worth it. SO worth it , because even if it was twilight’s last action, in the least she would die having shown someone else the beauty of friendship in the same manner that her friends had shown her. in the least, if she couldn’t save her people, she could save at least one pony from the darkness that came with being alone.

so why did she save tempest?

“because this is what friends do.”

#★ :*:。—— i see words as a work of art ; a new life in every chapter / ooc post.#twilight sparkle #princess twilight sparkle #movie #mlp movie #meta tag impending.#can reblog.

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sage-nebula · 7 years

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"they’re going to make Saeran murder his brother" What scares me even more is that this might not be restricted to a bad end, and that it ends up in the main route ._. I really, REALLY, hope Cheritz doesn't pull this, and that they don't use that as an excuse to have Saeran meltdown like Rika did in the Secret Ends after V was shot. Let the Choi twins know happiness, Cheritz! Let them be happy and smile and have fun!

(In reference to this.)

I don’t think Saeran would have a meltdown like Rika did in the Secret Endings after V died, for a few reasons.

The first reason lies in why Rika had a complete meltdown when V was killed in the Secret Endings, and this is actually tied up in a few reasons as well. The first reason (first and foremost) is that Rika is a control freak. It’s important to her, for a variety pack of reasons, that everything and everyone be under her control at all times. This is why she runs Mint Eye with an iron fist as she does, and why she constantly makes demands of the Believers there, forcing them to change things in Magenta on her whim. Rika has a pathological need for control, and when that is taken from her, her grip on her emotions and stability wavers so quickly and so swiftly that it all but crumbles altogether.

To that end, her pathological need for control extended to her abuse of V. Although some have claimed that Rika just wanted to be left alone and that V was in the wrong for following her to Magenta and trying to stop her (there are people who have actually claimed this; the Discourse™ in this fandom is wild), the fact is that Rika didn’t actually want V to leave her alone. What she wanted was to control him. You’ll notice in the flashbacks we receive in the Secret Endings that Rika only grew irate with and decided to “break up” with V once he stood up to her, and told her that her vision for the world via Mint Eye was similar to a dictatorship. It was only when V refused to continue enabling her that she decided to leave him and run off to Magenta. But Rika’s issue with V wasn’t just that he refused to enable her (though that was the lion’s share of it), but also that his refusal to enable her also meant that she couldn’t control him, because he wouldn’t simply bow to her whims anymore. Thus, she ran off to Mint Eye, confident on some level that he would follow . . . and he did.

With all of that said, although Rika did sometimes tell V to leave, that she was done with him, that he was a traitor, et cetera, Rika knew that V would never do that. Rika knew that V was too devoted to her to ever do that. She was sure of this. Thus, although she “pushed him away” (acted like she was pushing him away, more like), she still had a semblence of control over him. She could accurately predict what he would and wouldn’t do, and could use that in order to manipulate him and get some sense of satisfaction and pleasure from their interactions. So long as he was alive, she could do this. So long as he was alive, he was under her control.

Saeran killing V changed that.

Before, Rika knew that V would come back to her again and again, and she could do with him what she wished. She was happy with this. When Saeran shot V, however, that changed immediately and drastically. Something happened to V that Rika herself did not sanction, and worse, he died from it, right in front of her. Rika could not control this, she could not stop it. And she would never have V around to control or do with as she pleased all over again. Her “sun” quite suddenly went out, and she had no way to prevent it or bring it back. That’s why she flipped out. It had nothing to do with love, not at all, but rather had to do with her very suddenly and violently losing control over one of her abuse victims, in a way that she hadn’t predicted and could do nothing about. This is actually further supported by Another Story, wherein we see her have a breakdown when V says he doesn’t and never did love her (and therefore the control she thought she had over him couldn’t exist), and later still insisting that he was finished with her and was going to move on with MC (in a fashion). Rika first has that hysterical breakdown at Magenta (trying to figure out what went wrong and where, so she could fix it), and then later actually stabs him in what is very plainly a “if I can’t have you, no one can” move. Sure, she regrets it on some level, but at the same time it’s a pretty clear lash out against the fact that she can’t have him at her beck and call anymore, no matter how badly she wants to.

So with all of that said, it wouldn’t make sense for Saeran to have a breakdown over murdering Saeyoung in Another Story, because his relationship with Saeyoung is nothing at all like Rika’s relationship with V. Saeran isn’t a control freak like Rika (in fact, he’s of the opinion that he has never had control over his own life, and to be honest he’s not wrong), and even if he was, he has never once been under the delusion that he can control Saeyoung. Actually, it’s the opposite; Saeran feels chained by the ghost of Saeyoung, because he was so reliant on him when they were small, and now feels that Saeyoung betrayed and abandoned him. The Choi twins metaphor with the plant stalks actually touches on this, in that he says that the “weaker stalk” had everything “stolen” by the “stronger stalk,” and therefore he only felt it right to kill the stronger stalk in order to nourish the weaker one. Saeran was never the one in power in their relationship; he never felt that he had the upper hand. The upper hand is something he wants to take now, to have for the very first time.

This being the case, murdering Saeyoung wouldn’t mean removing him from Saeran’s control the way that murdering V removed him from Rika’s. At the risk of sounding repetitive, it’s actually the opposite; if Saeran was in a situation where Saeyoung’s life was literally in his hands, he would have control and power over Saeyoung for the first time in his life. Giving him the choice and ability to kill Saeyoung would be handing control over to Saeran for the first time ever. This is something that he, even when in the mindset of “Ray” (and I still hate that Cheritz gave him DID in Another Story when it wasn’t at all present in the Original Story, but whatever), desperately wants, to the point where he blatantly ignores MC when MC tells him that both “stalks” should be rescued, and argues that this is justice when she tells him that it’s strength borne of sacrifice (settle down there, Second Kira). Rika never wanted V to die. Rather, she wanted him to live under her thumb, completely under her control, for the rest of their lives (which she hoped would be long). By contrast, Saeran wants Saeyoung dead regardless of which identity is in control. In Saeran’s mind, Saeyoung’s death is not only something to look forward to and celebrate, but it’s also something just and righteous. Moreover, it’s the only way that he (Saeran) can “fully bloom” into a “beautiful flower,” which he can then show to MC. In a way, it’s almost as if it’s being set up so that Saeran killing Saeyoung is the “final hurdle” he has to overcome before he can have his happy ending with MC. The worst part is that it would be incredibly easy, because as we saw in the Secret Endings, Saeyoung will not fight back if Saeran tries to kill him. Saeyoung feels immense guilt over Saeran’s fate, and will readily accept death at Saeran’s hands if that’s what Saeran wants. We know this. We’ve seen it. Saeran would have succeeded had he not chosen to back off at the last second, because Saeyoung did not even try to fight back, even though we all know that he could have easily physically overpowered Saeran if he wanted to. We’ve seen this.

And ah, you might say, but there’s the rub---Saeran tried to kill Saeyoung in the Secret Endings, but backed off at the last second, so why wouldn’t he do that here? And, well, I can answer you: The reason why Saeran backed off at the last moment in the Secret Endings is because he remembered what Saeyoung said and did at Magenta to protect him. He remembered their fond childhood memories as well, but he spent so many years convinced that everything Saeyoung told him in childhood was a lie that he was able to easily dismiss it. However, when he remembered Saeyoung shielding him with his own body, and snarling (despite his injury and blood loss) at the Believers “don’t you dare touch my brother!” he was shaken enough to back off. He had convinced himself that everything in childhood was a lie, but he couldn’t do the same here. He tried---oh, he tried---but that was the first time in so many years that someone had genuinely protected him, and seemed to care for him, that he couldn’t. He was given just enough doubt to back off, and ultimately to decide to give Saeyoung “the benefit of the doubt, and believe half of what he says.”

But that doesn’t hold true for Another Story, and I don’t see how it could. The reason why Saeyoung had to protect Saeran in the Secret Endings is because Saeran flipped out when Rika said that they were going to induct Saeyoung into Mint Eye instead of killing him, because his hacking was superior to Saeran’s. When Saeran flipped out, Rika instructed the other Believers to take him away and drug him up again, at which point he grew even more hysterical and Saeyoung had to step in to defend him. That would never happen in Another Story. Not only did they severely nerf Saeyoung while severely buffing Saeran (meaning that Saeran is now the superior hacker), but I can’t see “Ray” ever turning on Rika to the point where she would coldly tell the other Believers to drug him again. I guess you could argue that “Unknown” could take over, but . . . I just don’t see a reasonable situation for that to happen unless they directly replicate the Secret Endings, and I’m not sure why they would do that again. Regardless, without Saeyoung being able to prove to Saeran how much he still cares about him (and he had to do that so many times over the course of the Secret Endings before Saeran finally believed him halfway), there would be no reason for Saeran to not finish the job. There would be no IC reason for Saeran to hesitate and back off. There would be nothing stopping Saeran from celebrating Saeyoung’s death, something which he has wanted for years. The only possible thing that could trip this up is that “Ray” mentioned wanting to see his brother again in one chat during the time in the cabin, but that goes against everything else we’ve seen from “Ray” (his insistence that “the redhead” is the worst, the plant stalks metaphor, et cetera), so unless he’s under the delusion that “Saeyoung” and “Luciel” are two separate entities (which wouldn’t make sense given how he says “that redhead” is a lying traitor, et cetera), I don’t see how that fits with the rest of his characterization.

So yeah, tl;dr, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if this was the main ending, but I don’t think Saeran would dissolve into hysterics. A post-Secret Ending Saeran who saw his brother killed would no doubt fall into hysterics, but Another Story Saeran? No, I don’t think that would be the case at all. If anything, I think Saeyoung’s death would make him feel finally “free,” and if he was the one to do it, he might even feel that he has finally “blossomed” given that he overcame “the stronger stalk” and was nourished by said victory.

But I guess we’ll see.

#sweetchcolate

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onlylovekpop · 7 years

Text

Fly | Park Ji Min | One-Shot

jimin (bts) + you (reader) word count: 12,842 warnings: there’s no violence in here but if survival scenarios make you uncomfortable there is a mild dose of that of course there is some smut but it’s nothing too rough it’s vanilla plus there is quite a bit of cussing hey he’s a pirate it is to be expected a/n: the long awaited pirate!jimin fic is finally here good grief i feel like i have been working on this for years but it’s only been a couple months lol anyway hope you all enjoy i really like how it turned out but i will go ahead and add there will be no sequel or extra installments

I remember the taste of salt water in my mouth. Filling my lungs. Burning my eyes.

Hands pushed firmly to my chest. The distant sun warmed my skin.

I imagined myself floating far into the depths of the seas, to the core of the world. Spirals of darkness wrapped themselves around me and tugged my body further into its womb. The remnants of a ship fell in pieces alongside me, ever to be forgotten.

My lips parted and air was forced against my tongue. Cold fingers clutched my heart and squeezed, pumping back to life.

With a gasp, water burst from my throat, escaping my airways. My eyes opened to a sun that seemed to be careening toward me. I could feel a pillow of sand beneath my back.

And I came face-to-face with the reason I was both alive and so very close to death.

“Thought I lost you,” exclaimed Jimin, droplets streaming from his drenched hair.

I coughed up the rest of the water in my chest and realized I had grabbed his arms as they propped him over me. And I was also quick to realize how close his lips were to mine.

My imagination danced with a vision of him breathing air into my mouth and for a moment, I remembered the feel of his soft lips against mine as I drowned inside myself.

Without hesitation, I pushed him away and sat up rather petulantly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, glancing around as I found myself on a small shore, waves lapping at my bare toes.

“Saving your life, I suppose,” he replied calmly, crouched at my side.

“Ironic, since this morning you were destroying it,” I snapped, gathering my dress in my hands and proceeding to my feet.

Jimin scoffed and rose with me, reminding, “I had every intention of returning you to your father once he paid our price. How was I to know he would send the entire navy to rescue you?”

“Perhaps because a pirate had stolen me away and pirates are not known for keeping people alive,” I hissed, sloshing from the beach and toward the grass.

The tropical world I found myself in at the moment was beautiful, to say the least. Everything was the most vibrant shade of green. The sky gleamed a clear blue. Birds sang their symphonies to the breeze. But I loathed it all, under the circumstances.

Jimin trudged after me and said, “I already explained myself. I’ve never lifted my hand to a woman. Except under her skirt, of course.”

I rounded on him mid-stride, glaring fiercely before continuing on my way.

“Where are you going, princess?” Jimin asked a moment later.

“Far from you,” I hissed, nearly tripping over a fern bush. “And to find shelter.”

“Look here, missy,” Jimin called, sprinting to circle in front of me and stopping me in my tracks. “I don’t imagine you know much about surviving on an island…”

“An island?” I exclaimed, eyes wide. “You mean - there is no fort or outpost here?”

Jimin grinned with amusement at my reaction. “No, my dear,” he crooned. “There is nothing here. I know these islands as if I owned them. Which I may as well.”

Skeptical, I pressed, “How do you mean?”

“My crew and I have items stashed here,” he boasted, folding his arms across his chest and blatantly flexing his muscles as a distraction.

“Water, I would hope,” I insisted, ignoring the display. “And maybe some provisions.”

“Loot, mostly,” Jimin told me with a smirk. “But there is fresh game and plenty of fruits to be found. We will survive until someone comes looking.”

What he was proposing absolutely terrified me and I was agitated with the way he spoke so nonchalantly about the whole ordeal. I immediately turned on my heels and raced back to the shore, stopping knee-deep in the waves to survey the horizon.

And finding it empty.

“Hello!” I screamed to the winds, cupping my hands around my mouth to hope it would amplify the sound of my breaking voice. “Can anyone hear me?”

Jimin marched through the water and came to stand behind me, ever patient.

“That won’t help, darling. You are only wasting time,” he coaxed.

I whipped around, trudging through the sea to approach him. “Why should I expect you would help me survive? It’s clear you won’t be getting your ransom. There’s no reason for you to save me.”

“But I did, didn’t I?” he countered, finally showing impatience with me. “You would still be drowning in your own lungs if not for me. Not to mention - you think you just happened to land on this shore?”

My brow furrowed in surprise. “You pulled me ashore?”

“Damn right, I did. The moment I took you, you became my responsibility. Nothing changes that until you are back in your father’s care.”

His voice was firm. It altered my assumptions about him - that he was a free spirit who never took a day in his life seriously. By his tone and the look in his dark eyes, I realized the safest place for me on this island was at his side.

“Fine,” I relented with head held high. “Lead on.”

Jimin flashed a grin at my surrender and bowed rather extravagantly before me. “Yes, m’lady,” he said, winking as he passed by me and toward the shore.

For a moment, I glared at his back, inevitably tracing my eyes over the black tattoos across his muscly shoulders. Tears in his loose, white shirt left very little to be hidden from my eyes. Shaking my head in reproach at myself, I gathered my skirt and followed him.

“We should make camp near the coast,” I called out in his wake. “If any boats near, we want to be able to see them.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jimin replied. “I like that spot up there for our camp. It’s a bluff with shading from the trees.”

An inevitable thought crossed my mind which prompted me to add, “And we can spot any foes below.”

Jimin faced me briefly, chuckling. “Are you expecting foes on an uninhabited island, princess?”

“Aren’t there wild animals?”

“Perhaps a wildcat here or there,” Jimin answered blithely. “Maybe a few boars.”

I smacked my lips together. “Mm, I do like pork ribs.”

“Boars are no picnic, missy,” he chided. “They will skewer you the moment they set eyes on you.”

Folding my arms, I smarted, “I’m no fool. I see your weapons.”

Jimin glanced down, referring to the pair of pistols on his hips. “Guns run out of ammo.”

“Then make your shots count,” I continued to fuss, then pointed at his blades. “You should give me one of your swords.”

The pirate scoffed, “I don’t think so.”

I scowled with annoyance and whined, “What if I need to defend myself?”

“You have me,” Jimin gleamed, patting his chest extravagantly. “I will defend you.”

“Of course, pirate,” I droned with a roll of my eyes.

We continued our trek across the beach, pilfering through remnants of the wreck for anything we could potentially use. The sun seemed to only grow hotter. Sweat gathered across the back of my neck. With the layers of my dress, I felt I was carrying an extra person. For nearly an hour, I grappled with the decision to remove it. Finally, with the heat and weight, I gave in.

Jimin lifted from where he had been crouched, watching me with interest, and asked, “What are you doing?”

Tugging at my dress, I replied, “I need to be able to move.”

“I like the way you move,” the pirate flirted; ever shameless.

“Stop that,” I barked. “Turn around.”

Jimin raked his eyes up and down my form, running his tongue across his teeth lewdly before pivoting around to put his back to me.

With a grumble, I tore at the fabric of my skirt until it gave way. Once I had disposed of all but one layer of my dress, I ripped a slit to my thigh and breathed in relief that my legs would finally have some ventilation.

“Are you done yet?” Jimin huffed impatiently.

“I am,” I answered a moment later, tying off a sash around my waist to still look vaguely appropriate.

Jimin turned, glancing at my changes and not uttering a word. I was shocked, having expected a bombardment of lewd comments laced with profanity.

He skipped forward, snapping off twigs with sparse leaves, and said, “We need to gather these to kindle a fire.”

I immediately reached for a shard of what had been my dress and spun it until I could use it as a pouch. “Here, I’ll hold it.”

Jimin handed me what he foraged and I tucked it away. He warned that despite the raging heat, the nights would be cold. He then teased we would have to use my former skirts as a blanket.

“How much time do we have before nightfall?” I asked worriedly. “Do we have time to make shelter?”

The pirate waved me away and crooned, “Nothing to worry about, princess.”

“I’m not a princess,” I corrected.

He shrugged. “You may as well be.”

I tilted my head, finding his comment a bit curious.

Once we had gathered enough kindling for a fire, Jimin motioned me toward the nearby slope which would lead to the bluff overhead; our chosen site for a camp. By the time I had reached the place, I was panting for breath. My corset restricted my lungs, but I had no intention of removing it. I didn’t want to give Jimin any ideas.

Glancing up to the bluff, I gaped in surprise. There rested a small hut made from trees and brush.

“There’s already a…”

“Yes, yes,” Jimin interjected. “I told you, me and my boys keep a lot of loot here. Sometimes we spend the night.”

I exclaimed, “You had me worried we would be sleeping out in the open!”

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” he reminded, gesturing forward again.

Glaring spitefully at him, I stepped into the open hut and was pleased to find the inside covered with furs. It was a tiny abode and the entire floor seemed dedicated to the animal pelts. Jimin took the pouch from me and began adding the twigs to the center of a rock-formed circle, one that had hosted many fires. It lay just beyond the opening to the hut.

Watching him carefully, I pressed a hand to my stomach, still trying to catch my breath for what felt like hours. I arched my back and wobbled, attempting to loosen the garment just enough to let me take a full inhale.

“You can lay down and rest, darling,” Jimin called as he prepared the fire. “I’ve got it handled.”

“I can’t… breathe,” I murmured, feeling lightheaded as my lungs set to a panic. The hike up the slope had been too much.

Jimin dropped everything in his hands and raced inside, facing me squarely and asking, “What? What happened? Is it from the water?”

“It’s the damned corset,” I snapped, flushing when I realized I had sworn aloud.

Jimin noted my reaction and smirked with amusement. “Take the damned thing off,” he quipped.

“I can’t. It would be inappropriate,” I murmured timidly.

Jimin furrowed his brow and teased, “Forgive me for the assumption, but isn’t breathing a priority for women?”

I wanted to roll my eyes and glare at him, but I didn’t have the energy or concentration as I devoted my time to clawing at the garment strangling my lungs. “You ask me to choose between my well-mannered upbringing and breathing?” I panted.

“Yes.”

My vision pulsed with the threat of fainting, the last warning my body would give me. I nodded rapidly and tore my nails at the corset, shouting, “Get it off. Get it off of me!”

Jimin tenderly grabbed my shoulders and held me in place to move behind me. I heard him pull a dagger from his boot and felt the slightest pressure as he ran the blade down the ties across my spine. The moment it was free I ripped the corset away and gaped for air, plopping down to the furs and pressing a hand to my racing heart.

“Better?” Jimin asked coyly with a tilt of his head.

I nodded.

“I suppose by nightfall I will have helped you out of all your clothing,” he smarted, lifting the mood.

“You are uncouth,” I huffed with a scowl.

Jimin grinned with delight and asked innocently, “Is that dirty slang I’ve not yet come across?”

Waving him away, I barked, “I will take you up on the offer of resting. If you abandon me in my sleep, I suppose I won’t hold it against you.”

Jimin snickered. “You’re a stubborn woman… I love stubborn women.”

I grumbled before rolling to my side, curling in the furs and settling comfortably.

When I awoke, I grumbled at the heat. My body was slick with sweat and I grimaced at the feeling of my hair clinging to my neck. As I came to, I realized a pair of arms was wrapped around my waist.

“What are you doing?” I shouted, pushing Jimin away. He had been nestled against my back, smothering me with his body against mine.

Jimin lurched out of sleep and exclaimed, “What? What is it?”

“You!” I yelled, pulling the furs up to cover myself, though I was in the same undergarments Jimin had seen me sport the day before.

Jimin sat up, facing me squarely and rubbing his swollen eyes with a tight fist. “What did I do?” he asked, as if he genuinely had no clue.

“You were holding me,” I explained, suddenly awkward.

Jimin shrugged and tiredly whined, “You were shivering. I was trying to keep you warm.”

“I was?”

“Mm,” he replied, flopping back down into the furs and sprawling on his stomach. In a matter of seconds, he drifted back to sleep.

“Unbelievable,” I huffed, eyes narrowing with annoyance.

All the commotion had me wide awake at the moment. There was no possible way for me to fall back to sleep. Wobbling to my feet, I trudged out of the hut, greeting the crisp morning air with a deep inhale. I stretched out my arms and my back, humming with pleasure at the way my muscles relaxed.

Glancing down, I noticed the heap of canteens, assuming Jimin must have phished them from his loot pile while I slept. Opening the first, I took a whiff and coughed. It was strong alcohol. The fourth canteen I checked turned out to be water and I drank some with relief.

Turning back to the hut, I sighed as Jimin snored. He must have made a number of treks between his stash and the abode while I rested. He deserved as much sleep as he could get. Determined not to disturb him, I slung the canteen over my shoulder and strode my way down the slope toward the shore.

For a little while, I sat in the sand, staring longingly at the horizon as I expected a fleet of ships to come to me. My father would never allow his reputation to take such a blow. His daughter - his only child - captured by pirates. He would move heaven and earth to have me returned. Not necessarily because he loved me, but because he would look weak and incompetent otherwise.

At that thought, I glared at the ocean and lifted to my feet. As I turned and made my way toward the trees, I took twisted pleasure in the newly found freedom I had and realized how happy I was to be out of my father’s chains. Sure, this wasn’t the ideal scenario I had in mind, but it still brought a smile to my face that here I was - out of a corset and doing as I pleased. It was a fantasy I thought would never come true.

There was a little skip to my step as I perused the bushes and trees for their fruits. Wherever I was, the land was unimaginably fertile. I packed many fruits in the section of my skirt, careful not to bruise them, and wondered which was Jimin’s favorite. Then, I silently chastised myself for caring about his preferences.

Approaching a tree, I grinned with joy when I realized it was littered with mangoes. Setting down my spoils, I pulled my skirt out of the way and began the short climb. After collecting a few, I sank my teeth into one of the fruits and giggled like a kid as its juice ran through the corners of my mouth. Hell, I had no one to impress. I didn’t bother dabbing the droplets where they gathered under my chin.

Scooping up my pouch of fruits, I decided I had gathered enough and should return to the hut when a twig snapped behind me. I whirled around, hair standing on end at the back of my neck. I was about to call out for Jimin, hoping that maybe he had followed and was using this opportunity to get a little scare out of me.

Then, a boar stepped out from the brush.

The only boars I had ever come across in my lifetime were on spikes over roaring fires, turned rotisserie style and seasoned with salt and pepper. This creature was very much alive and probably weighed three times more than I did.

“Oh, god,” I muttered, freezing in place, hoping beyond hope that the beast didn’t see me.

That hope vanished when the thing locked eyes with me. It stared me down and began to approach, one hoof in front of the other as it picked up speed. Survival responses kicked in and since freezing didn’t work, I turned and ran.

The boar thundered behind me. I could hear its hooves tearing through the ground. As I glanced over my shoulder, I didn’t see the root of a tree and fell hard to the ground. As fast as I could, I rolled to my back, holding up my hands to protect myself. The animal charged in my direction and I screamed at the top of my lungs.

A shot rang out. The boar fell at my feet, sliding through the dirt from its own momentum.

Slowly, I lowered my hands, panting for breath and searching in the direction of the gunfire to find Jimin stomping toward me, sliding a pistol back into its holster on his hip.

“You sure have a big pair on you,” Jimin quipped, though I wasn’t sure to what he could be referring. He reached out his hand and after glancing at his sun-kissed fingers, I took the offered help and let him pull me to my feet with ease.

Gulping as I glanced over the boar, Jimin stepped into my line of sight and reprimanded, “Why didn’t you sleep in? It’s not like we have anywhere to be.”

“I was awake,” I replied timidly. “And I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Jimin smiled and crooned, “Awe, you’re sweet.”

I recoiled and scanned the ground, sighing at the fruit I had collected being strewn about. Jimin followed my eyes and snatched a mango from the pile, taking a big bite out of it and much like me, not giving a damn as the juices raced down his jaw.

“Went fruit picking, did ya?”

“Mm,” I hummed, salvaging the fruits that weren’t ruined and returning them to my pouch.

“Well, looks like you’ll get those pork ribs you wanted.”

“You’re an amazing shot,” I commented, realizing the bullet had gone straight through the boar’s forehead.

“Anything less than a kill shot wouldn’t have slowed him down, sweetie,” Jimin told me smugly. “You stepped into his territory. He was gonna maul you.”

“Thank you for that,” I groaned, turning on my heels and heading for the hut.

Jimin watched me go and took another bite of his fruit.

The two of us worked together to make a contraption that would haul the boar. Using one of my skirt layers, Jimin was able to load the beast on it and dragged the thing behind him toward the shore. I made a fire as best I could while Jimin prepared the meat.

We talked a lot that day. As we ate what I had gathered and waited for dinner to cook, Jimin tried to get my attention with his stories of piracy. At first, I would have nothing of it, but he kept feeding me little bits of his adventures and eventually, my curiosity couldn’t take any more prodding. By the time evening began, I was curled alongside the fire, laughing until my stomach ached.

“Okay, how about this one time I walked into a tavern in Tortuga with a white rabbit, a head of cabbage, and a stick of dynamite,” Jimin started.

“Jimin, the pig!” I exclaimed, noticing our spoils had caught fire.

“Shit,” Jimin shouted, quickly hauling the meat off of the flames. “I think dinner is ready!”

The following morning, I awoke with a full stomach to birds singing. Jimin had moved at my side and I opened my eyes to see him standing with a long stretch.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, running a hand through my hair.

Jimin shook his head and answered, “I’m just gonna make another run to the loot. If memory serves, there a few more useful things in there.”

Sitting up, I nodded and said, “I will stay here until you get back. Though, I really want to take a bath.”

“There’s no tub on this island, honey. Take a dip in the salt water and you’ll be fine.”

“Alright. I can settle for that,” I told him, lifting to my feet and following the pirate outside.

“I’ll be back soon,” Jimin said.

“Be careful,” I replied, stopping abruptly.

Jimin turned to me a smiled, bowing slightly and quipping, “As you wish, my lady.”

I rolled my eyes and watched him saunter away.

Following his suggestion, I approached the shore and took long, wary glances in every direction. When I felt the coast was clear, I stripped off my garments and dove stark naked into the warm waters. For a few luxurious minutes, I paddled around the shallow pools, occasionally stepping on the reefs and scaring small clusters of fish.

“Sorry,” I apologized, then giggled as before I could finish uttering the word, the fish had quickly returned and began investigating my toes. They didn’t seem too afraid of people. I imagined Jimin spent many hours in these streams and probably played with them on more than one occasion, given they weren’t big enough to eat.

“Are you apologizing to fish?”

The blood drained from my face and on instinct, I dropped lower into the water until only my head was above the surf. Though I failed to remember the water was crystal clear.

“Maybe,” I replied to Jimin, rolling my eyes as he stood at the shoreline and dropped his two large bags of loot.

“Well, if your bath is over, I brought you some fresh clothes,” said Jimin, perusing one of the pouches. “There’s a bunch of dresses in some of the trunks.”

“Anything that doesn’t have a corset is fine by me,” I told him, swimming toward shore.

Jimin rose with a white, skimpy outfit in hand and I snorted my distaste.

“That’s something a tavern girl would wear,” I exclaimed.

“It’s white and the material is thin,” replied Jimin calmly. “Which means it will keep you from overheating. Plus, there’s another petticoat thingy in here.”

“Fine. Thank you,” I whined. “Now, turn around.”

Jimin smiled and did as told, putting his back to me and holding the new dress draped over his arm. For a moment, I merely watched him, expecting he would laugh and dart around to see me in all my naked glory.

When he didn’t move, I clambered out of the water and snatched the garment, racing to scramble into it. Though I would never admit it, the dress fit me well and the gossamer feel of the material against my skin was a sweet relief.

“You can look now,” I told Jimin, fastening a red sash around my waist that had been peeking out of the top of his bag.

“A tavern dress never looked so good,” Jimin flirted after taking a quick glance at me.

Before I could reply, Jimin returned his attention to the loot and to my surprise, pulled out a beautifully encrusted bow. I was even more shocked when he handed the weapon to me.

“Where did you get this?” I asked with wide eyes. “It’s stunning.”

“Found it in a schooner of the Royal Na…” he suddenly stopped himself and waved his hand. “You don’t need to know that. Forgot I stashed it with the rest of the loot. Thought it would make a nice decoration on the wall of my cabin.”

My brow furrowed and I droned, “Why do you assume I know how to use a bow?”

“I know rich daughters of powerful men are taught aesthetically pleasing skills to attract future wealthy husbands,” Jimin taunted. “Am I close?”

I had discreetly readied a shot and fired it immediately. The arrow whizzed past his head and struck a narrow tree behind him.

“Yes, you know everything there is to know about me,” I retorted. “Spoiled, rich girl who has no say in the man she must share a bed with for the rest of her life.”

Jimin shifted his weight in surprise.

I had said too much and lowered my face, hiding my flushing cheeks and murmuring, “I don’t assume what life you have, Jimin. I acknowledge you are a pirate, but I have not insulted you. Afford me the same courtesy, please.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin replied quickly.

“Don’t apologize,” I interjected, brushing past him and returning to the hut to hide.

There was an awkward tension between us for the rest of the day. Part of me wanted to find a way to break it. Jimin did, too. He constantly glanced at me and mulled over what to say. I could read the furrowed lines on his face. Wrinkles creased his forehead when he grew pensive. I found it adorable and endearing.

Without our usual banter to keep the mood light, my thoughts turned dark. I imagined dying on this godforsaken island, curled in the fetal position until my bones turned to dust, taken away by the winds.

Anxiety set in and hopelessness with it. I looked to Jimin and he seemed at ease, shuffling in and out of the hut as he prepared kindling for fire as the evening grew closer.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I bent my knees and wrapped my arms around them, hiding my face as moisture threatened my eyes. I felt apologetic. What if my father had given up the hunt? I could imagine him returning home and telling his friends and associates that I had been lost to the sea forever.

Rising to my feet, I sprinted out of the hut, nearly knocking Jimin over in my haste. As I barreled down the embankment, I could hear him shouting my name, giving chase as I made for the water.

Splashing into the shallows, I stopped knee-depth and screamed, “Please, save us! Someone save us, I beg you!”

Water sloshed behind me as Jimin came to stand a few feet back. He said nothing as I shouted at the top of my lungs, pleading with anyone that could possibly hear me.

Jimin spoke my name gently a moment later. He sounded sympathetic and raw.

Turning to face him, I trudged in his direction, gathering my skirt in both hands as it weighed me down. “It’s been days,” I whimpered, tears streaming down my face.

“There, there, little lady,” Jimin coaxed, patting my back once I was within reach.

I wiped my wet cheeks roughly with the back of my hand. “Are we gonna die out here?” I asked, voice trembling.

Jimin was within arm’s reach of me and he stepped closer. For the first time, I didn’t back away. Part of me wanted him to embrace me, hold me. Something.

Instead, he told me, “My boys, those that survived, will come here eventually. Our loot is here.”

“You’re sure?” I questioned, sniffing back more tears.

“Yeah, I think… I’m sure they looked for me. Maybe they’ve given up hope by now. But at some point, they’ll get back to our way of life. They’ll sack something and they’ll come here for storage. That’s what we do,” Jimin explained softly.

I nodded my understanding and focused on getting some of my composure back. It wasn’t like me to be emotional in this way. I had been taught to never show my feelings. I was a woman and frankly, how I felt was of no one’s concern.

But Jimin was concerned. I could see with the way he looked at me. He asked me what I was thinking and what I was feeling rather frequently. I wasn’t used to this and I didn’t know how to answer.

Then, I realized how I must look - crying like some naive little child. I quickly moved to hide my face and began, “I’m sorry. I won’t make you watch me do something like this again. Please, forgive me.”

“Are you apologizing for crying?” Jimin asked and I was surprised at the sternness in his voice.

I glanced up and replied, “Yes, I…”

“Don’t ever do that again,” he whispered, reaching forward and dabbing at my cheeks with a handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket.

At first, I bristled at the contact. It was foreign to me. Someone touching me so gently. For a moment, I stuttered. I had no idea what to say.

“Tears are nothing to be ashamed of,” Jimin said softly, handing me the little cloth to keep. “It’s good to cry and let it all out every now and then. I know I do.”

“But you’re a man,” I spoke, curious.

Jimin chortled. “Men cry. We cry like babies. Don’t ever let a bastard try to convince you otherwise.”

I laughed and Jimin grinned from ear to ear.

“Hey, there she is!” he exclaimed, sliding his fingers under my chin and tipping my head up a little higher in one swift motion. “You’re gonna be okay, princess.”

With a sigh, I felt his smile and his words warm a part of my heart that had never known anything other than bitter cold. Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around Jimin’s waist in a hug and rested my cheek against his chest. He stiffened at first but immediately brought his muscly arms around me, locking them behind my back.

“What’s this for?” he asked bashfully.

“For treating me like this,” I replied quietly. “For being kind.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, I felt his hands in my hair before he grasped my cheeks, pulling me back and allowing himself to look at my face. I met his penchant gaze and something came over me. No one had ever stared at me the way he did and I could see the reflection of the world in his eyes.

“Will you ever have the desire to kiss me?” I asked softly.

Jimin blinked rapidly in surprise before whispering, “I am all desire, but not enough courage.”

“I have enough for both of us,” I replied hurriedly.

Lifting to my tiptoes, I pressed my lips to his and moved my hands to cup his jaw much like he had held mine. Jimin wobbled on his feet, as if he had temporarily lost his balance, before grasping my waist and kissing me back.

Heat flushed from the crown of my head to my very toes and I pulled away, taking a shaky step back and searching for words. “I, um, sorry,” I rambled.

“No, it’s okay. I…” Jimin started.

I interrupted, “That canteen with the strong smelling stuff. What was that?”

Jimin smirked and answered curiously, “Rum.”

“I need that,” I exclaimed, turning on my heels.

Jimin watched me sprint for the hut and laughed before giving chase.

We sat on the array of furs and passed the canteen back and forth, watching the sun set until the stars arrived. The moon was full and it illuminated the waters that surrounded us.

“Have you ever drank before?” Jimin asked as he handed me back the rum.

I took another gulp and hiccuped before replying, “Wine. Once. I got in so much trouble.”

“Okay, lightweight,” he teased, taking the canteen from me. “Might be time for you to move on to water.”

“That’s not fair,” I whined.

“You’re drunk,” Jimin informed, stashing the alcohol behind him.

“I am not,” I replied, indignant.

“Are we gonna talk about that kiss?”

Blinking through confusion, I asked innocently, “What kiss?”

Jimin tapped my nose, snaring my attention, and sang, “You kissed me on the beach.”

Gazing up at the empty ceiling, I wobbled back and forth. Then, I shamelessly slurred, “I don’t remember that.”

Jimin wrinkled his nose as he practically giggled and pressed, “Yes, you do.”

I was suddenly very aware of his body next to mine and I angled to face him, our crossed legs touching. “I should have asked your permission to kiss you,” I told him flatly.

Jimin snickered and said, “While I appreciate your adorable manners, you can kiss me whenever the hell you want.”

I wiggled my eyebrows. “Like now?”

To my surprise, he sternly said, “Except now.”

“What?” I exclaimed with disappointment. “Why?”

“Woman, you’re drunk. Your decision making privileges have been suspended until morning.”

I bit my lip and raked my eyes up and down his body, whispering, “I had never kissed anyone before. Don’t want to kiss me again, Jimin?”

“Of course, I do,” Jimin replied in an instant. “I’ve wanted to kiss you every minute of every day since we landed on this place.”

Smiling, I shuffled a little closer and crawled into his arms, straddling his lap and holding his face in my hands. Hiccuping unceremoniously, I wriggled from my drunkenness, but I was comforted by his steady grip around my waist.

“I feel things for you,” I stuttered, narrowing my eyes as I searched his face for an answer.

Jimin blushed sheepishly and fought a smile; one of those broad, blinding smiles that makes his eyes scrunch. I didn’t realize how much I liked when he did that until then.

“What kind of things?” Jimin asked, after I hadn’t spoken again.

I blinked rapidly, the room spinning in wild, untamed circles around me. “You make me feel safe. And you let me…”

Trailing off again, Jimin shook me gently, hinged on every word I had to say. “Let you what?” he pressed.

I brushed my fingertips over his brow, pushing away some of his black hair out of his eyes. “You let me live,” I whispered at last. “You let me be… me. And you’re the first person to look at me and actually see me.”

The expression on Jimin’s face changed. He stared at me in wonder and whispered my name tenderly.

That was all it took for me to crash my lips on his and I smirked while listening to him try to whine my name against my mouth. I giggled and outright laughed when he spun me to my back on the furs. To my surprise, he didn’t join me. Jimin plopped back at my side and rested his head on his hand.

“You stole a kiss,” he chastised playfully.

“It was the rum. Makes me brave,” was my excuse.

Jimin shook his head and replied, “I think you’re brave anyway. You just finally get the chance to be.”

“I like that,” I murmured, gazing up at the ceiling of our hut as the room spiraled further out of control.

Jimin watched how my eyes grew tired and he pulled a fur over me like a blanket.

“Are we moving?” I asked innocently, slurring through my words.

Jimin chuckled and said, “No, that’s just you. But it will stop in a minute.”

My eyes fluttered rapidly as I questioned, “It will?”

“Yeah, when you pass out.”

“Oh.”

The next morning, I awoke to the less than glamorous sensation of drool rolling down my chin. My mouth had been gaping open as a I snored like an insufferable drunk. Snorting to my senses, I propped myself up on my elbows and dabbed at my face, ashamedly wiping away the saliva and frantically trying to do so before Jimin caught a glimpse.

Wobbling to my feet, I managed my way to the opening of the hut and peered outside. With no sight of Jimin, I inched to the edge of the bluff and finally spotted him in the water. With his pants rolled up over his knees and his shirt discarded to the rocks on the sand, he held a spear over his shoulder before thrusting it into the depths and returning with a large fish. My heart leapt as I thought about the small, colorful fish that often danced around my toes when I bathed over the reefs, but the creature Jimin caught looked the type to eat my little companions. Suddenly, I was in the mood for seafood.

Returning to the interior of the hut, I proceeded to braid my hair to make it more manageable. After smoothing out the pelts and my dress, I waited for Jimin to arrive with breakfast while I did my best to grapple with the thumping in my skull. No more alcohol for me for a while, I decided.

“Good morning, good looking,” Jimin sang as he approached the hut. Given his words, I could safely assume he hadn’t seen the way I’d been snoring.

“Morning,” I greeted, stepping outside and offering to hold his two spears for him to prepare the fire.

“These big boys are gathering near the reef, no doubt trying to feast on those pretty little things you like swimming with,” Jimin told me nonchalantly.

My cheeks flushed that we had shared the same thought. “Are these fish tasty?” I asked curiously, eyeing the gigantic things.

Jimin shrugged. “Yeah, throw some salt on ‘em, roast ‘em over the fire. They’ll do.”

I handed the first spear to his outstretched hand and watched him prepare to spic it over the fire. When he had finished, Jimin rose and flashed me a smile. “I assume you’re sober now,” he teased, approaching me.

“Mm, I think so,” I replied with embarrassment.

Jimin wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close, brushing his nose against mine. “Then, can I have a kiss?” he asked in the cutest voice I had ever heard him make.

“Of course,” I whispered shyly, giggling at the affection as he chastely kissed my lips and then proceeded to peck my nose and forehead afterward.

“I like kissing you,” he growled against my ear, pressing a lightning fast, open mouthed kiss on my neck.

A shiver rushed down my back at the feel of his wet lips and the soft catch of his breath on my neck and I suddenly ached for him to do that again at least a thousand times more. But before I could pose the request, he grinned at me with a scrunch of his nose and returned to preparing our breakfast.

The day was different for us. The banter was flirtatious. I accepted his advances at every turn. Unsuspecting kisses were shared between us at each possible opportunity.

As the sun set, Jimin and I sat at the waters’ edge, our legs in the surf. He spoke of the places he’d seen, the exotic wonders of the world he had experienced. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. The way he detailed his appreciation and respect for the earth was something I had never seen in another person.

The men I was accustomed to talked of the world as if it were their personal property. Not Jimin. He acted as if it was an honor and a privilege to see the secrets our planet had to offer.

For a pirate, he was incredibly gentle. I then realized that was the word to always come to mind when I thought of Jimin. Gentle.

With the moon holding sway, we retreated to the hut for warmth. The mood changed when Jimin asked, “Why do you never share any stories of your life?”

“Hm?” I questioned.

“I tell you of my experiences. You share nothing.”

“Oh, silly pirate,” I teased. “You don’t want to know the luxuries I’ve had to endure in my lifetime.”

Of course, I spoke with disdain and hatred, but Jimin failed to read my tone. He must have thought I was patronizing him, treating him as if he were beneath me.

“I’m not like you,” Jimin suddenly snapped. “I wasn’t born to wealth and opportunity. I was handed a certain set of cards and I did what I had to do. I never asked anyone for anything. And I never gave a damn what anyone thought of me. Until you. I hate when you sometimes look at me the way they all do. Like I’m worthless. Like I’m less than human.”

My eyes widened in surprise and I stammered, “I never…”

Jimin lowered his head in shame and whispered, “When you look at me like that, it breaks what little heart I have.”

“I have never looked at you in disgust, Jimin. I stare at you with envy,” I rasped.

He glanced up quickly. “What?”

“I am young. I’ve barely lived. My father is fielding potential suitors and they are all the same; older and wealthy. I would be mere decoration on their arm, a young piece of meat with a prominent name to parade in front of other wealthy, powerful men. They would bed other women when tired of me. I would be expected to wed them, carry and birth their children, and raise them on my own. And my children would suffer my same fate.”

Jimin grimaced with anger and hissed, “If that is the life he wants for you, then he doesn’t deserve to call you his daughter.”

With a smile, I sighed, “When I was falling into the ocean depths, before you saved me, I was relieved. I had been given a taste of freedom and would have died a free woman.”

Jimin sobered and turned to face me, reaching for my hands and holding them affectionately in his own. “What is the life you want? Tell me everything,” he said with excitement. “I want to know.”

Relieved he wasn’t angry or hurt, I gazed aloft and began, “I want to travel. I want to see the world. I want to dance freely whenever I hear music. I want to bring babies into this life born from love and passion.”

When I paused, Jimin squeezed my fingers and insisted, “Tell me more.”

“I want to discover the world’s secrets,” I admitted with a shrug. “Maybe one. Perhaps, this island - your island - is my one secret I will be allowed.”

Jimin interrupted, “Your island.”

“What?”

“This is your island. I’m giving it to you.”

I snorted and reprimanded him, “How can you give me an island?”

“It’s mine,” he sang, pointing at himself and then gesturing toward me. “And I gave it to you.”

Smiling with joy, I whispered dreamily, “Maybe I can live here forever.”

“Can I live here with you?” he asked, coy.

I smiled, reaching forward to pull him closer to me for warmth. “Please do,” I whispered, our foreheads touching as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

Being this close, staring into his eyes, I couldn’t resist anymore. Colliding my lips into his, I cradled his face and kissed him like tomorrow would never come. And the heat of the night melted and blended into one memory.

For what felt like hours, I straddled his lap and and sucked on his tongue in my mouth. His arms flexed around my waist, hugging me tightly to his body. His skin burned against mine, but his every gentle touch made me shiver. Soon kisses weren’t enough. Our hands wandered. Though I had been cradling his face or raking my nails through his hair, eventually I moved lower, tangling my arms through his and massaging the muscles of his back and shoulders.

“Can I touch you?” Jimin asked, voice raspy.

I stared at him with a sheepish grin, delighted with how swollen his plump lips were. Sweat had begun to bead around his brow.

“Only if you promise never to stop,” I whispered, offering a kiss and settling deeper into his lap.

Jimin groaned in the back of his throat and squeezed my waist with his broad hands. His touch was firm, but always tender. He proceeded to knead at my hips, inadvertently causing my skirt to tug higher up my thighs.

Drunk off of how he made me feel, I hummed impatiently against his mouth, wanting him to touch me everywhere at once. Reaching to grab his wrists, I broke from his lips to stare into his eyes as I moved his hands to the soft, exposed skin above my knees. Jimin fixated his gaze on me, mouth agape as he panted for breath. He watched me with such concentration, I wondered if this was painful for him.

Slowly but surely, I made his palms caress up my thighs, pushing them under my skirt until he found my bare hips.

“Touch me,” I sighed, breathless.

Jimin swallowed the lump in his throat and continued moving his hands after I released his wrists. He found my waist beneath the dress and in a swift movement, pulled me to my back beneath him. I giggled in surprise, feeling the layer of sweat across my skin when I sank into the pleasant furs underneath me.

“At any time, tell me to stop and I will,” Jimin told me sweetly, kissing my nose as he awaited my answer.

“I won’t,” I retorted, holding his biceps as he began kissing the side of my neck.

His licks and nips were loud from the gathering moisture we shared from the heat inside our retreat. My head pounded with adrenaline and warmth. I could sense how red my cheeks must have been.

“I’m sweating,” I snickered bashfully, biting my lip.

Jimin took my lip between his own before huffing, “I love it. I love how wet you feel against me.”

A shiver of pleasure raced through me at his words and I tipped my head back into the furs, closing my eyes and mewling as he sucked at the base of my shoulder.

Then, he moved south.

My hands gripped the pelts until my knuckles ached. Jimin kissed his way across my collarbones before tonguing the swell of my breasts. While I thought he would tear at my dress to reveal more of me, instead he continued on his path until his swollen lips stopped where my thighs met my hips.

The skirt had gathered high; barely covering my womanhood from his eyes. Gulping through my sudden onslaught of nerves, I focused on my fists tightly coiled in the furs while Jimin gingerly gripped my dress and pushed it just high enough to fully expose me to him.

“Jimin,” I whimpered, wondering what he must be thinking at the moment, but before I could ask, I could feel his hot breath on my mound.

“If I was you first kiss, m’lady,” Jimin murmured quietly. “Does that mean I’m the first one to see you like this?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately, borderline frantic for contact.

“And the first to ever touch you like this?”

My voice broke this time when I replied, “Yes.”

Jimin chuckled darkly and in a heartbeat, his mouth was on my lower lips.

A choked off gasp rolled down my tongue. He used his lips to find where I was most sensitive, first lapping at my folds before sucking on each side. When he moved upward, finding the hidden bundle of nerves and proceeding to press the flat of his tongue against it, I howled his name and shuddered beneath him.

Jimin grabbed my hips and I could feel him smiling against my heat, licking my entrance before returning to my bundle to swirl his tongue around it. Small, hopeless noises fell one after the other out of my mouth while he relentlessly sucked and lapped at the apex of my thighs.

“Jimin, I-I,” was all I could manage, bidding my legs to stop shaking under his ministrations.

His lips parted from my core with a lewd smack. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, winching my eyes closed while Jimin traveled back up my body and pecked a few kisses on my neck.

“I’ll tell you now,” Jimin growled as he leered over me, clutching the strap of my dress and pulling it down. “I’ve been inside a number of women.”

“I don’t care,” I exhaled, half-sincere.

Jimin bit his lip as he slowly tugged the rest of the material down, revealing one of my perky breasts to him. “But I’ve never kissed a woman down there before,” he finally added.

“Oh,” I choked, keening loudly as he took my nipple in his mouth, sucking it briefly before pulling away with a pop.

“How was it?” he asked, grinning playfully as his hands settled over my breast, squeezing and kneading.

I trembled and said, “Good. Really good.”

Jimin proceeded to suck my hard nipple into his mouth again, running his tongue around it before breaking away to look at me for a reaction. My eyes were still closed and my head was tipped back. I was in some otherworldly place of trying to process how everything he did to me could feel this good.

“You wanna keep going, your majesty?” he teased.

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, and snorted at the pet name. Then, my attention shifted downward to the obvious bulge in his pants. Propping myself up on my elbows, I brought my bare thighs around his hips and purred, “What comes next, Jimin?”

He rose to his knees, tearing off his shirt in one quick swoop. I mirrored his movements, kneeling to face him and yanking the dress up and over my head. The moment it was clear, Jimin smashed his lips on mine, sliding his tongue between my teeth.

Naked in his arms, I had never felt this way before. My heart was pounding uncontrollably. Every inch of my skin was doused with sweat. And between my legs, my core was pulsing with desire.

Jimin released me just long enough to unbutton his trousers, pushing them down his thighs. I glanced down and caught sight of his cock, so hard it curved toward his defined abdominal muscles.

“Can I touch it?” I asked curiously.

Jimin snickered. “You can touch it all you want,” he sang. “It belongs to you now.”

“Mm, an island and a cock,” I crooned, licking my lips. “This must be my lucky day.”

“Don’t tell me there’s a naughty, dirty girl down in there,” Jimin teased, pecking my lips swiftly.

“I think you made her,” I replied, smug. “Now why don’t you take her?”

Jimin pulled me to his chest, coiling his arms around me in an iron hold. I lost my fingers in his hair and tried my best to keep pace with his hot, hungry kisses. Gently, he lowered me back to the fur covered floor.

The older women back home, the caretakers responsible for looking after me, had told me many times what to expect on my wedding night. That I would lay on my back and try not to think of the pain as my husband would claim me as his property and fill me with his seed. The thought came to mind as Jimin propped himself over me, settling between my legs. But I felt no fear and certainly no remorse.

I wanted to cry with joy that I had been given the chance to choose my own fate. That I chose the man who would know how it felt to be inside me. Jimin had saved my life on more than one occasion. He genuinely cared for the thoughts racing through my mind. He made me feel safe and wanted. No matter what happened after this night, I was blissfully happy and I would never regret it.

The pain of him was of no consequence to me. I welcomed it. Jimin sheathed himself to the hilt in my core and let out the most beautiful moan he could possibly make. I sighed his name and held him close to me, kissing his neck while he shivered in my arms.

His hips moved tentatively, coaxing his length back and forth ever so slightly until I had stretched enough around him for a long, full thrust. I hissed his name, surprised at the way his hips had smacked into mine. Instinctively, I pulled my thighs higher, draping them round his waist and locking my ankles over his ass.

I whimpered incoherently as his cock sat deep within my walls, stroking firmly while he groaned lowly. The moment Jimin found a steady pace, he had no intention of letting it go. I held his shoulders while he buried his face against my neck, smacking his pelvis into mine each time he pulled back and drove back in.

My nails sank into his flesh, branding him as mine, and I clamped my teeth on his shoulder while he rutted his length into me. Soaked with sweat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air followed by our own little noises of grunts and moans.

Then, that feeling returned. The same way I had felt when his lips were on my bundle of nerves. Shudders passed through me. My legs began to shake beyond my control. I clawed at the furs, lilting my head back as I bounced my hips to meet his.

“Oh, god,” I yelled, tipping away from him until my back started to curve.

Jimin snuck a hand into my hair, coiling the locks around his fist to keep me from escaping. “Almost there,” he snarled in my ear.

“No, Ji… min, I can’t,” I panted, sliding my legs from around his waist until I could interlock them with his own. My ankles tucked to the inside of his calves and I flexed with all my might, trying to sate the pulsing in my core.

Jimin lifted his face from my neck and his lips bumped into mine. “Baby, I’m about to come,” he stuttered. “Relax and let go.”

This was new to me. I didn’t know what was happening. But I was comforted by the way he was trembling, too.

The pressure was building and building. I thought I would burst and I fought it. Jimin felt my tensing and tugged at my hair before grabbing my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Come for me, beautiful,” he demanded roughly. “Come all over this cock.”

And something ignited within me. The pulsating spilled over and radiated through my body. My mouth gaped open and my head rolled back as light burst behind my eyes. Every surface of my skin burned with warmth that spread to my very bones. For a moment, the shaking stopped as I went impossibly tight, like for a few seconds my body overloaded with sensation.

At the tightening of my velvet walls, Jimin moaned at the top of his lungs and seized my hips, driving his length as far inside me as it could go and emptying his load. I finally blinked through tears and came to my senses. The heat of his release coated my core and I was surprised how much I enjoyed the foreign feeling.

Jimin huffed my name shakily before resting his forehead against mine, shuddering in waves as I held him between my arms and legs.

As the high began to fade, the realization consumed my mind in an instant. I was on my back. Jimin was between my legs. My arms were hooked through his and my hands had settled on his muscly shoulders. His eyes were fixated on mine. Our mouths, open and panting desperately for breath, hovered together.

Finally, Jimin swallowed and his voice rasped when he asked, “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

“Mm,” I replied, annoyed he even had to ask. He was trembling above me and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. I brought a hand to his forehead, brushing his hair out of the way tenderly. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered, clinging to him for dear life.

Jimin flashed his teeth with a bashful smile, chuckling briefly and teasing, “No one has ever called me that.”

“No one has ever seen you like this either,” I smarted, grinning victoriously.

He nodded, acknowledging that even though he had touched other women, none of them had made him feel what I did. “That is true,” he murmured, suddenly shifting in my arms.

“What are you doing?” I asked with annoyance.

Jimin met my eyes once more and explained, “If I stay inside you, I’ll get hard again.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I replied, tightening my thighs on his hips even harder.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby.”

I shook my head and kissed his brow. “You can’t hurt me.”

Jimin exhaled in defeat and after a pensive pause, whispered, “I was made for you.”

“I know,” I replied with a wink. “So stay.”

Jimin wasn’t lying when he said he would get hard again. The second round was harder and faster than the first. Despite my soreness from giving him my virginity, I couldn’t get enough of him. Pushing at his shoulders, I wasn’t satisfied until Jimin grasped my waist and gave me what I wanted, rolling to his back and allowing me to straddle his hips. Planting my hands on his firm chest, I rode him and rode him until I tilted my head back and moaned his name at the top of my lungs.

My thighs burned and my hips ached, but I couldn’t care less. My chest was tight as I could never quite catch my breath. Jimin kept his hands shifting from my breasts to my waist. At times I became too restless and erratic, he gripped my sides and steered me back into place.

It was like I had lost my mind and Jimin was the sole cure to my insanity. I wanted his touch at all times. I needed him to reach my high over and over. On top of him, I felt in control of the world. Especially with the way he gazed up at me as if he were at worship.

“God fucking damn it,” he swore and I realized that at any other time, I would have reprimanded him for his language. Not this time. This time, I glanced down at him and grinned with pleasure and pride.

As the arousal gathered to a boiling point between my legs, I leaned forward and braced my hands at opposite sides of his head, bouncing my ass up and down to keep his length sliding in and out of me. With the way it curved, his member was stroking something inside me I didn’t know I had.

“Jimin,” I whimpered, pressing my eyes closed and chasing my end as hard as I could.

Jimin seized my ass and urged me to ride him even rougher, letting out a groan before growling, “You are riding the fuck out of my cock, sweetheart.”

“Give it to me,” I whispered, voice breaking as I felt him bucking upward to meet my pace. “I need it, Jimin.”

He snaked a hand between my arms and grasped my jaw, pushing me upward until I curved my back. My eyes snapped open, widening further as the orgasm began and I flexed my thighs on Jimin with a vengeance, squeezing his length as it pushed deep inside me.

“Hngh, fu…” I started, but couldn’t finish as I climaxed above him.

For a few minutes afterward, we stared at the ceiling of our hut, waiting for our hearts to settle. Jimin played with my fingers, kissing each of my knuckles, which did little to soothe my desire for him.

With a groan, I whined, “We could have been doing that all along.”

“It was worth the wait,” Jimin replied blithely.

“I don’t care if no one ever finds us,” I joked, but briefly I felt at peace with the possibility.

Jimin chuckled and rolled to his hands and knees, hovering over me and stroking my hair out of my face. Then he said, “Love and passion.”

“Hm?”

He tilted his head and explained, “If you want children born from love and passion, that’s how it will feel.”

“Wow,” was all I could say.

The moments of boredom I had experienced before were long gone now. When Jimin and I weren’t sleeping or eating, we were tangled in each other. I soon grew accustomed to having an ever present ache between my thighs. The high was too good; we were addicted.

We lost all sense of time and space. For me, existence ended and began with the two of us. He became my world; the one person I could always count on to be there when I needed him.

Then, one morning not long after, Jimin raced into the hut and stirred me from my sleep. At first, I fussed, then I saw the light in his eyes.

“You and I, we’ve been here a while,” he told me, shaking his head with despair.

“Jimin, what is it?”

He paused, etching every detail of my face in his memory. Stealing a quick, chaste kiss, Jimin pulled back and whispered, “I love you.”

My eyes widened.

“I don’t expect you to say it back and no matter what you decide, this will always be your island,” Jimin said sweetly, tears gathering in his eyes.

“What do you mean, Jimin?” I questioned, growing scared.

Jimin opened his mouth to reply, but I grabbed his head and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Of course, I love you, too,” I murmured after releasing him.

Jimin grinned, turning to kiss my arm as I held his face.

“There’s a boat,” he finally revealed.

The two of us took our time striding hand-in-hand to the shore. Sure enough, a massive galleon lay in wait beyond the reef. And to my delight, the flag waving in the wind was black as night, stitched with a stark white skull and crossbones.

“Yours?” I asked with a smile.

“Mine,” Jimin answered, patting my butt.

A small boat approached us, two men raking the oars through the waters with haste. Once they had docked on the surf, both pirates embraced Jimin like they had feared the worst.

“Jesus, Captain,” exclaimed the boy named Taehyung. “We looked everywhere for you. After a couple of days, we started to think maybe the sea had finally beaten you.”

“Never,” Jimin retorted, motioning for me.

I stepped to his side and felt comforted by the way his arm wrapped around my waist.

“May I introduce you to the love of my life,” Jimin announced to his friends.

The two removed their hats politely and bowed with respect. My cheeks flushed at the gestures.

While the men loaded a few things into the boat, I gathered my skirt and stepped into the water, striding to the part of the reef where the colorful fish gathered. It took only a few seconds for the adorable things to investigate my toes, swimming wildly around me.

“I’ll come back and visit,” I told the tiny things kindly. “Stay away from the big fish with the big teeth.”

“Time to go, darling,” called Jimin, waving me toward him.

Bidding my farewells to the fish, I splashed through the water and let Jimin help me into the boat. I sat across from him as he worked the oars, arms and chest flexing with the effort. We said nothing as the two other pirates prattled on and on about the mischief Jimin had missed during his weeks on the island, but I doubt the captain was listening. He was too busy smiling at me.

The galleon daunted the ship that had sank into the ocean’s depths. This vessel was at least five times the size of its lesser and a horde of white sails stood at the ready. At the hull, a golden encrusted siren donned the wood, her hair trailing across the expanse of the ship’s chest.

“It’s beautiful,” I gleamed as Jimin helped me up from the ladder. On the deck, the group of pirates stopped in their tracks and gave me undivided attention, removing their hats and bowing deeply as the other two had done.

“Pirates worship women,” Jimin teased for my ears only, winking smugly.

Taehyung proceeded to apprise Jimin of the state of his ship and my lover bit his lip with pride.

“Good thing we were riding Guppy when all the mayhem went down. Big Girl was safe in the inlet,” Jimin shouted, earning loud yells from his men.

“Big Girl?” I questioned with amusement.

“You, my lady,” explained Taehyung. “Are riding the flag ship of a fleet.”

“A fleet?” I exclaimed, pinning my gaze to Jimin.

He shrugged, buoyant as ever. “I may have more than one ship, sweetheart.”

“Captain of a naval fleet of pirates,” I mulled, pacing toward him and failing to hide how impressed I was at the moment. “Why am I not surprised?”

Watching as the men bustled about the ship, each taking turns greeting their leader as if they had found their long lost brother, I felt warmth at the sight. This felt like a family. Sure, a slightly dysfunctional family that commits crimes on the high seas, but a family nonetheless.

Taehyung returned from below deck and approached me with a garment, one crafted of fine materials and laced with jewels. It was clearly a robe meant for a woman and I assumed it had been gathering dust somewhere.

“For you, my lady,” he offered sweetly. “The winds can be cold.”

I smiled and bowed my head in gratitude, turning my back to him and allowing Taehyung to slide the robe on to my back. I pulled my arms through and tied it around my waist, instantly comfortable in the heavy, royal material.

“It’s beautiful,” I commented, glancing down at the patterns of ebony thread through the cream colored silk.

“It suits you,” Jimin called out, returning to my side after inspecting the foremast with one of his men. He eyed my new ensemble and smiled with glee.

I thanked him and asked, “When do we set sail?”

“As soon as you give us a destination,” Jimin replied, pleased with my reaction that followed.

“Me?”I questioned in surprise.

“This ship will take you wherever you want to go. If you want to return home, I will give the order.”

The thought set a sour taste in my mouth and my nose wrinkled. “Or?” I prompted.

Jimin chuckled. “Or we can see where the wind takes us.”

Tapping my lip, I gazed up at the sky, imagining the places we could see together. For a moment, I felt small, like a speck of dust in the scheme of such a wide world. After a moment, I asked, “Where is your favorite place of all places, Jimin?”

Jimin met my penchant stare and the mischievous smile that took over his face was a sight scorched into my mind forever. Lewdly running his tongue across his teeth, he whispered, “Inside you.”

My hand collided lightly with his chest, but the hit did little to dissuade him from moving forward to gather me in his arms. Nose to nose, we were lost in each other. The universe could have melted around us and we never would have noticed or given a damn.

“Where do you want to go?” Jimin asked softly.

“Mm,” I hummed, glancing up at the ice blue sky. When I brought my attention back to him, I could see a childlike excitement dancing in his eyes.

After stealing a quick kiss, I replied, “Surprise me.”

Jimin flexed his grasp around my waist and announced, “You heard the lady. Haul the anchor!”

The men around us howled in perfect sync, signaling to their leader to prepare for movement.

Jimin took my hand and pulled me excitedly at his side, soaring up the short stairs until we were behind the bronze-encrusted helm. Jimin guided my fingers to rest on the wood, allowing me to hold it steady while the ship beneath our feet roared to life.

“Alright, princess,” Jimin spoke from his place behind me, locking me forever in his arms.

I snickered with delight at the pet name that had once annoyed me. Not anymore. For the first time, I actually felt like royalty.

Jimin brushed his lips over my neck and whispered, “You’re a free woman. Are you ready to fly?”

Gripping the posts of the wheel, I held tightly but with affection, caressing my fingertips along the engravings. I felt powerful and emboldened, and it was a feeling Jimin had gifted to me.

I would love him for eternity in return.

As I finally nodded my answer, Jimin moved his head above mine, kindly avoiding a loud shout next to my ear as he ordered, “Let her go!”

The main sail unfurled in all of its splendor and caught the air with a vengeance, coaxing the ship to the open, endless horizon.

And from that moment until my last, I was lost to the winds, an entity of the oceans, and according to my captain, a siren of the seven seas.

For more oneshots, click here for the masterlist.

Author’s Note: This fiction is written and owned by me. I monitor my work diligently and will take measures to protect my writing if it is stolen or plagiarized.

#oneshots #bts #jimin #bts smut #jimin smut #bangtan smut #park jimin smut #jimin scenarios #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 7 years

Note

How do you think beginning of the series Ax would respond if his rescuers were actually trained child soldiers expected to go into combat at their age?

[Sorry that this is a little off-base from what you requested; I just didn’t feel qualified to write about child soldiers and so opted to write about child fighters instead.]

• Aximili has seen photographs of humans before, of course he has. He studied the single chapter of his xenobiology textbook that covered them (Yuri Gagarin, the text said, Neil Armstrong, and he did his best to remember) when he found out that he’d be accompanying Elfangor on the upcoming mission to Earth. Nonetheless, he startles when the five strange creatures emerge from the Dome ship’s airlock, firing his dracon beam in quick succession until they have all collapsed on the floor.

He takes a moment to study them before they awaken. They have artificial skins covering parts of their bodies, which he knew to expect, but some of them have decorations on the skin itself that are strangely beautiful as well: one of them with long yellow hair has dozens of tiny lines, arranged in groups of five, marked on the skin of its shoulder and upper arm. Another alien with a larger build and a darker shade of golden hair has what must be thousands of feather etchings covering its arms from wrist to wrist, the pattern continuing across its back as if it is permanently in the earliest stages of a morph to some kind of tan-and-brown bird.

The smallest one, whose skin is the darkest shade of brown, becomes the first to sit up. As it does so, Aximili registers the words written on the inside of its forearm: no peace without justice. The alien’s companion (long dark hair, perpetually suspicious eyes) name-drops Visser Three so casually that for a second Aximili panics, nearly taking the alien’s head off with his tail blade before he gets control of himself again.

• Slowly they all relax, and Aximili learns their names. The big one with the dark hair and just one tattoo—of a tiger sitting calmly looking out at the viewer—is Jake, or Big Jake as the others call him. His cousin with her dozens of tiny hash marks, her claw-shaped fingernails, and her metal-lined teeth is named Rachel, called Xena. Tobias, or “Hawk,” is the one with the wings and the shy grey eyes that almost disappear when he ducks his head enough for dirty-blond bangs to fall over his face, and Cassie (“Gaia”) is the small one with the words on her arm. Marco, or Mars, has the most, and the most beautiful, ink of all of them: words and shapes and images crowd his shoulders, his legs, his knuckles, the back of his neck. Dios no dio alas a los alacranes, his left forearm says, and James 2:13 splays across his ankle.

“Ax,” Marco says, when Aximili tells them his name. “Yeah, let’s call you Ax. Kinda violent, very edgy, I like it.” Ax sees another tattoo rolling up his left shoulder: Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for I am the evilest son of a bitch in the valley.

“You need a second name,” Rachel (Xena?) explains. “Otherwise no one will take you seriously.”

• And then they give him the news about Elfangor.

“I’ve lost a brother too,” Jake says softly. “He was killed a few months ago. Got caught in the crossfire of some random drive-by on his way home from work.”

“We found them,” Rachel says. She taps the first three tally marks on her arm in a gesture that Ax doesn’t understand at the time. “We got our revenge. You want help getting yours, pretty sure Jake’d be happy to take you on.”

«You are their prince, then?» Ax asks Jake.

All of them look around at each other in sudden uncertainty.

“My brother was the one who made sure we had somewhere to sleep, enough to eat, clothes to wear, the time we needed to stay in school,” Jake explains at last. “If anyone hurt us he’d hurt them, and if any of us got killed he’d wipe out as many people as it took to even the score. I inherited all that from him, and I’ve been doing my best to do the same. That what you mean by a prince?”

«Yes,» Ax says. «That is exactly what a prince does for his warriors. Very well then, Prince Jake, I will do my best to serve your mission until such time as my cousins arrive.»

• The six of them spend nearly an hour touring the Dome ship, asking Ax questions as they recuperate and as (he can admit to himself) he delays leaving the only tiny piece of home he has left in this strange world. He tells them what he can about the ship and how he came to be on it, and in exchange they tell him their stories.

Jake and Rachel were both orphaned three years back, all four of their parents killed when the plane they were taking home from vacation went down in the Caribbean Sea. All five of them—Jake and his brother, Rachel and her sisters—ended up shipped off to their aunt Ellen’s house, at least at first.

“And then Saddler broke Jordan’s arm,” Rachel growls, voice so hard with anger that Ax takes a step back in fear. “And Aunt Ellen believed that little twerp when he said it was an accident, that it’d never happen again. Accident my ass.”

The very next day, Tom had stolen their aunt’s minivan and run away with the lot of them to downtown Los Angeles. He’d worked three or four jobs while Jake and Rachel got in the habit of shoplifting what Sarah and Jordan needed, and together they’d been able to afford a basement apartment in South LA. He’d never wanted Jake and Rachel to get caught up in the violence the way some of the kids in their neighborhood did, but then no one planned on him getting killed either.

Marco still technically lives at home with his dad, but it’s not like his dad knows what he gets up to all day, and he and Jake started traveling together because they’re safer in a pair than alone. The two of them brought first Rachel into the group, then Cassie after Rachel realized Cassie had no one else to go home to at the end of the day. “I’ve been all over,” Cassie says, “or I was until my one foster sister started drowning chipmunks for fun. Then I punched her a bunch of times. Ran away. Settled down.”

Rachel jokes that Tobias followed them home after Jake made the mistake of feeding him. Ax later learns the real story of how they met, and it’s not nearly that cute: it involves Tobias being cornered by three larger boys in an alleyway. It involves Jake firing two shots from the gun he inherited from Tom, one into the air, one into someone’s leg.

The story of how Tobias ended up as a runaway in the first place is complicated as well. “My aunt wanted a niece,” he explains with a wry smile. “Wanted me to wear dresses and makeup, to have nice long hair, to pretend to be a girl so she wouldn’t have to tell the neighbors about my abnormality. There was this little typo on my birth certificate, see, and everyone’s been real confused about what to call me ever since.”

«I see,» Ax says, blatantly lying.

• They make a run for it, not too much later, and together they survive their first fight against the yeerks. Over that afternoon Ax’s respect for this odd group of alien children grows steadily: they never leave one of their own behind, they’re very good at hiding fear under anger, and they know how to scan constantly for danger and respond with a second’s notice. Eventually, with the help of an enormous sentient creature that lives in Earth’s waters, they wash up on the shores of Los Angeles Harbor.

«With your permission,» Ax says, «I would like to take DNA from each of you. With the frolis maneuver, I can create a human shape that is a unique mixture of your attributes.»

“Then again, maybe you should just take from Tobias and Rachel.” Marco smiles, but his eyes are colder than ever. “The cops’ll give you a lot less hassle that way.”

Ax looks around at each of them. «Human law enforcement will pay less attention to me if I have yellow hair, pale skin, and light-colored eyes?»

Marco laughs. “Now you’re getting it. Welcome to Earth, man—you’re gonna fit right in.”

“Just take DNA from all of us,” Tobias says, seeing Ax’s confusion and taking pity. “We’re all a bunch of rejects anyway, so you might as well.”

• Ax becomes closer to this group of aliens over the next several missions than he could have ever imagined. They open their home to him, even if that home is a nearly empty room in an otherwise abandoned building that contains a few sleeping bags and hotplates. They teach him to defend himself as a weak little human, using switchblade and semiautomatic when he doesn’t have a tail blade or claws.

Cassie walks a mile and a half to the nearest yeerk-owned convenience store to shoplift him a dozen cinnamon buns the day he finally contacts his family with news of Elfangor’s death.

Tobias takes Jake and Rachel’s gentle-but-firm scolding about his carelessness with time limits (which has already resulted in half a dozen close calls), but he also asks Ax to teach him how to be better at keeping track of time.

Jordan and Sarah—who know about everything, to Ax’s surprise—don’t know what to make of him at first, but pretty soon they’re bringing home backpacks full of grass clippings so he’ll have something to eat, while he’s teaching them the basics of andalite dance.

• Every time they go out on a mission, they follow the same routine. Jake solemnly hands Jordan a gun—the only time she’s allowed to handle one—and makes her go over the rules again. She and Sarah are not to leave, no matter what happens. She’s not to shoot anyone unless someone tries to attack her, or unless one of them comes back alone without explanation. If anything happens short of a direct attack, or one of them coming back as a controller, she’s to run to the pay phone down the street and call 911 instead. If three days pass and she doesn’t hear back from any of them at all, she and Sarah need to get on the next bus to San Luis Obispo and they need to go back to Aunt Ellen’s house.

• “We don’t kill unless we have to,” Rachel tells Ax, after he watches her tear a controller’s throat out. “But if we have to, we kill. Got it?”

He learns that that’s their blanket policy: the Animorphs (as they call themselves) don’t mess with other gangs in the area, but other gangs better not mess with them. They don’t kill randomly, and they don’t escalate, but if they get hurt they will find the perpetrator and hurt him back.

They don’t like killing—well, he’s not sure about Rachel, but the others certainly don’t—but they are nonetheless very good at it. If caught out of morph, Marco can shoot a hork-bajir-controller’s head off at 200 yards. Cassie can take down a human-controller with a single jab of an inch-long penknife.

• Each time they make it home alive, Ax watches in fascination as Rachel tattoos two, three, sometimes as many as eight fresh lines onto her rows of tally marks, which by now reach two inches past her elbow and wrap around her forearm. He’s learned by now that only the first three are pure black, and every one since then is black with a narrow white shadow.

“Black’s for enemies,” Rachel explains. “White’s for the innocent hosts that get caught in the crossfire.”

Ax assumes at first that they must be a form of penance—each one involves jamming a needle into her soft skin dozens of times and injecting foreign substances underneath the surface to create an off-colored scar—but the longer he knows her, the more he suspects they’re a boast.

• It takes him longer to find out about the row of raised bumps along the back of Cassie’s calf, or what they mean. “It’s cultural appropriation, probably,” she says with a self-deprecating smile, “but I got it from something they do in Ethiopia to signify growing up.”

She doesn’t make one for every kill, unlike Rachel; her system is more complex. Ax knows that she does it after all three occasions where they blow up a Sharing location during a meeting, and once after they dump poison into a yeerk pool. But she adds them at other times as well: when she finally demorphs in the long aftermath of her encounter with Aftran, when Aldrea nearly gets her killed.

“I could show you how to make them, and how to make them stay while you morph,” she offers to Ax. “It’s not that hard, or it wasn’t after Rachel figured out how her ears stay pierced every time she morphs.”

Eventually Ax agrees to just one mark, encircling his tail where it meets the blade. The symbol is simple—a curling series of lines whose ends intersect to form a circle—but its meaning is complex. «The placement’s about mourning, but specifically about respect for the one who is mourned,» he explains awkwardly. «They meet at the bottom to signify family, and the curl at the top is for a peer, but a peer from whom one has learned much… It’s not the kind of thing that translates well into words.»

“What you said makes perfect sense to me,” Jake says, bright-eyed. With Ax’s permission he imitates the pattern around his own left wrist.

• It’s Jake who keeps them all in line, Jake who insists they only shoplift from yeerk-owned businesses and give back the cars Marco steals once they’re done with the mission. Jake won’t let Rachel kill the girl from their class who called her a white trash bitch, or the boy who wolf-whistled her on the way home, but he shepherds the rest of them outside as she shoots David precisely between the eyes.

Ax catches him sitting on the roof of the abandoned building they inhabit, one night after a raid on Joe Bob Fenestre’s house goes wrong in about eighteen different ways. L.A. is far too light-polluted and smoggy to see any stars, but Ax knows that Jake is looking for them all the same because he’s done the same thing himself.

«I think he would have been proud of you,» Ax says softly.

“Your brother?” Jake asks, seeming to shake himself out of a daze.

«And yours.»

“You ever wonder if…” Jake looks down at the concrete of the roof, thinking for a second. “If every other kid our age trying to hold down a job, or a family, or, hell, an entire freaking gang… If they don’t know what they’re doing any better than we do?”

«Maybe they don’t,» Ax says. «But most of them find a way to survive anyway, don’t they?»

“Thing is, I’m not sure they do. Seems like every time I turn around there’s someone else I know getting shot, stabbed, hooked on heroin, thrown in prison…” Jake smiles faintly, the expression tired. “We were never supposed to live past twenty-five. That was half the reason we got involved in this fight in the first place, you know that? We all knew how to fight already when Elfangor found us, and we all figured that if we were going nowhere fast we might as well take down some aliens along the way. I don’t think anything’s changed since then.”

«You’ve hurt them,» Ax points out. «You’ve made Visser Three afraid. We have. Six kids, no real training, and we’ve killed more yeerks than most andalite warriors do in a lifetime.»

“But does it solve anything?” Jake asks. “If the war ends tomorrow we’ll still be a bunch of dead-end trash with no prayer of ever getting a real job between us. Tobias’ll still be stuck in a body he hates for the rest of his life, Marco probably won’t have his mom back, Rachel… I mean, god, you ever think about what Rachel would do if the war ended right now?”

Ax doesn’t have an answer.

• And as it turns out, he’ll never get one. Because, turns out, Rachel doesn’t live to see the war’s end.

• Ax knows what to expect when the press gets ahold of their story, or at least he thinks he does. There are nearly twelve hours of lag time between the yeerks’ official defeat and the first chance to land the Pool ship on Earth, during which time his teammates give him a crash course in all the nastiest sides of the American media. Therefore, he’s saddened but not surprised the first (or the tenth, or the hundredth) time someone refers to them as thugs, as superpredators, as hoodlums or delinquents. He understands in advance that when reporters call Eva an “alien” they’re not talking about extraterrestrials, that there’s a reason Cassie and Marco are “un-American” in a way Jake and Tobias are not, and that no one is going to bother to learn Tobias’s real name as long as they can use the one on his birth certificate instead.

However, as cynical as the Animorphs are, even they cannot anticipate just how awful people can become. No one anticipated the calls for Marco to “go back to” a country he’s never visited. They didn’t foresee that the baby pictures Tobias’s aunt sold to the press, and his subsequent misclassification, would mean that people suddenly had opinions about Rachel’s “lesbian influence” over future generations.

Just when Ax thinks he’s learned about every type of prejudice that could possibly exist, a heckler asks Jake a question (something about religion and money that Ax doesn’t understand) that causes Marco to punch the man so hard he breaks his own hand, and the lessons in all the ways humans suck start all over again.

• All five of them get a number of offers of adoption from concerned citizens, even Ax and Marco, which is weird because both of them have living parents and perfectly good homes already.

Most of the offers from concerned strangers are horribly condescending, the letters or introductory emails filled with phrases about how these self-righteous souls want to “get these children off the streets,” give Marco “a real home for a change,” help Tobias sort out his “confusion” about gender, and so on. Marco takes a great deal of delight composing extremely rude responses on his and Ax’s behalf.

Jake’s the only one who shows interest right from the start, but only because he’s got more people than himself to think about: Sarah and Jordan are his responsibility now. The way Jake approaches the whole process is somewhat off-putting to most prospective guardians, exactly the way it’s meant to be. The caregivers who expect to meet a helpless war orphan or a traumatized child instead find themselves confronted by a self-assured young man who approaches the contract negotiation process (which is exactly what it is, at least once Jake’s done writing the paperwork and getting a child advocacy lawyer to approve it) with more demands than concessions. Anyone who wants to have Jake absolutely must adopt Jordan and Sarah as well. Jake does not consent for their images or any personal information to be shared with the media or the general public. Any guardian who violates these terms can expect Jake to file immediately for emancipated minor status, and sue for sole custody of his cousins. The first thirty-seven candidates Jake interviews all leave shouting, sometimes in tears.

Tobias turns down all offers—not exactly hard to do, when half the letters aren’t even addressed to him—and is on the verge of simply becoming homeless again when Ax passes along his parents’ wishes to meet their grandson. There’s nothing left for Tobias on Earth anyway, so together he and Ax board the first shuttle they can find to take them to the andalite home world.

Cassie delays making a decision for as long as she can, but then one day she receives a letter from a local veterinarian. The vet, whose name is Michelle, talks about how Cassie is an icon for all African American women, one with whom it would be an honor to share her home. She and her husband Walter don’t have children, but they do have horses and birds and an entire clinic of wild animals, and if Cassie’s willing to be patient then they’re willing to do whatever it takes to learn how to care for a girl as well… Cassie accepts on the spot.

Candidate thirty-eight is a single woman in her fifties that Jake, despite himself, likes almost right away. He relaxes a great deal when he finds out she was an involuntary controller during the last months of the war, which means that even if she doesn’t understand what they’ve been through she can come close enough. The first real glimmer of hope comes when she approves of the contract (mentioning that his aunt would doubtless be proud of the good work he’s done with it) and even suggests a few clauses of her own. They talk frankly for nearly three hours, during which time the woman agrees to set aside tuition for the highest-quality (and highest-security) private high schools and colleges for all three children. Jake learns, too, that she had a son who like her was taken by the yeerks during the war: Rachel killed him on the deck of the Blade ship, and his body was never recovered.

• Ax returns to his homeworld, where he is made a war-prince almost before he sets hooves to grass. Where he isn’t treated as a “controversial figure” and no one whispers about how he is a psychopath and an animal who should be put down. Where celebrations in his honor are uncomplicated and never met by protests. Where he and Tobias can be themselves and no one tries to simplify their complications into a story that makes for a good headline.

• Global War I, the history textbooks on Earth call it a hundred years later. The parallel to World War I is deliberate: just like then, the writers say, there was no reason for it all. There might have been bad guys, but there were no good ones. There were no thanks for the people who ended it all, only thanks that it came to an end. Some kids had something to do with hurting the Yeerk Empire, but their names have since been lost to time.

#animorphs au #animorphs #oh look there's ax #transphobia #homophobia #racism #sexism #classism #antisemitism #cultural appropriation #seriously this one is about how americans suck #would you look at that: i managed to take an entirely unrelated post and make it ALL ABOUT TOM #so unlike me #long post #au #child abuse

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