#and the thought of having to repair and sell the thing is terrifying to me even so many years out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

haadeswrites · 3 years ago

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Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it.

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child.

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well.

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call.

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse.

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined.

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her.

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?”

And your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.”

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?”

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression.

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet…

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following.

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading.

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home.

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions.

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain.

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him.

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi.

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part.

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours.

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea.

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well.

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for.

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to.

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight.

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers.

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him.

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight.

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion.

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering.

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms.

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night.

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?”

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be.

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach.

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves.

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head.

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river.

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn.

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired.

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north.

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night.

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore…

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it?

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.”

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island.

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment.

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage.

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside.

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side.

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly.

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head.

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first.

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out.

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes.

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise.

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually.

Time slows.

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at.

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally–

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound.

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips.

It wasn’t him. It was never him.

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.”

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care.

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though.

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch.

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again.

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to.

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you.

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter.

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most.

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood.

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!”

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks.

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #cult au #tw: religious themes #tw: dubcon #tw: blood #tw: minor character death #tw: abuse #hades.dark #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader

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chitrolls · 2 years ago

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I have no idea how to format this. Putting it into a post instead of an ask felt like the right thing because this turned out way longer than I thought it would. Thank you, @spectrology for the ask! I look forward to answering all the rest. This is really helping me knock some dust off. :)

CONTENT WARNINGS: Nightmares, mention of children in extreme poverty, immolation, and implied canon-compliant body horror that comes from being shoved in a helm, but nothing gory or detailed; just mention of the fear of it.

Running Delphi Electronics was a daymare in the early nights. It didn’t take long for word to get around that there’s a legitimate clairvoyant living around the Stacks and not another one of those boring psychics that flipped some cards and told people to think inwards. Things got so busy that you, Almaaz, and Lovelace (still only going by Rhiana at the time) went down to the old space docks to steal a bench. With things getting so busy, a bench was the only thing between you, your employees, your customers, and a fire code violation. One of the downsides of a combination psychic-electronics repair shop.

Now that you’ve long wizened up and keep your readings on an appointment-only basis, the bench doesn’t get the same traffic it used to. Sometimes the girls and Eli meet out there for their lunch. Or maybe you condemn Tyckho to the bench to keep him from ragequitting when he’s got to clean a spectacularly disgusting PC casing. Even you like to stretch out your long legs and have a quick smoke of herbs and dry mind honey when you feel like you’ve got enough privacy.

Tonight, you’ve got some gutter rat from Grub Town stuffing their face with a couple grilled cheeses. There’s no doubt Amoura is to blame for this. A Glossolalia lifer herself, she grew up in Grub Town until you took her in and gave her a job selling trinkets and oddities at your shop. Seeing scrawny wrigglers running around always gets her upset. Not being able to take it anymore, she put a bunch of sandwich shit in the break room fridge and bought a sandwich press. Kids quite literally started crawling up out of the sewers. It wouldn’t be so bad if they, at the very least, weren’t so sneaky about it.

Your loiterer stares up at you with this massive pair of gray eyes that say they aren’t afraid of you. Even as you take a seat on the far end of the bench, they continue to enjoy their sandwiches. You kind of recognize them through the grime and melted cheese. They know you aren’t a threat, but kids around here know they have to put on some kind of a tough front to keep the city’s adults from squishing them underfoot.

When they do start to ease up a bit, they open their little mouth.

“How do you know when, like. Your dream is a vision and not a dream?”

The streets have been talking about Delphi Vitale and speculating about how his amazing clairvoyant abilities work for sweeps. There’s also the crisp, laminated print affixed to the shop’s window detailing some of the services you provide. In-depth dream visions are one of them. You have to give the kid this stupidly animated shrug in response. It’s the only way to genuinely convey what you’re feeling with your face hidden beneath a heavy hood, some gaudy sunglasses, and a smog mask.

“You kinda just get a feelin’ for it, kid.”

What you’re not going to do right here and now is trauma dump on someone you don’t even know; especially when that someone is a kid trying to suck crumbs and the memory of cheese from beneath their fingernails. Still, you can’t help but wonder how well this kid sleeps during the day.

Growing up, you were a fitful sleeper. You were kept up all hours of the day by this terrifying daymare of a man on fire. You were half this kid’s age, maybe even younger, when the daymares began. Up until that point, you had most of your visions while you were awake with the occasional prediction shoved in some background scene of your rare “normal” dreams. You can admit to yourself that you still find the image of that man scary. Or maybe it was his presence that kept you unnerved.

In the early days of your burning man dreams, he’d be standing right at the side of your pool of sopor slime. You’d try to force yourself awake, but that just made things worse. It made his looming feel all the more heavy and even with your eyes just cracked open, you still saw him there and you always knew it was him by the sight and the smell of his burning flesh and his Empire-issue helmsman uniform.

As you got older, you learned ways to manipulate your dreams. It wasn’t much, but figured out how to fling yourself out of your body and watch your dreams like a fly on the wall. He still loomed over your body as you slept. Your dreams only changed to suit whatever in your life was different as you aged or moved hives. The closer you inched towards young adulthood, it was like the man knew you were not in your body anymore, so he started screaming for your attention.

By this time, you had surrendered yourself to the Empire to join the helmsman program. You felt there was no other way for you to survive with your chrome and, besides, you were doing pretty well for yourself despite it all. You didn’t have to deal with your sleeping daymares and waking ones that came with needing to live under the radar to survive. This new lifestyle also provided you with a small solution that kept you running for nights without needing sleep: charging stations. You’d just plug in for a while and last a couple nights on electrical currents running through your ports and brain without needing so much as a wink.

There were PSAs about running on charging stations for too long, of course, but you were fine. You figured out a system. You’d get at least one good day of sleep after several without and you were peachy. Really, you weren’t. Sometimes you’d get a bad discharge running through your ports that made you jerk and jolt about when the worst of them hit. Once you had a series of them that couldn’t have been more than half a minute, but there he was, just outside the edge of your vision. His screams became resigned sobs.

Maybe that’s why you were so off the night you were finally able to carry out your big assignment. The program wanted you hooked into some newfangled experimental ship built for navigating the more dangerous parts of deep space. A clairvoyant in the column meant they crew could more effectively navigate without getting torn up by microplanet sized space debris or sucked into a dying star.

You tell yourself things went south that night for a number of reasons. One of them being that your discharge was worse than usual. Shit, you were also pretty damn scared of being plugged into a ship for unknown stretches of time without someone around that’ll say it’s time to be dismissed for the night so you could rest your ports and get all your psionic energy back up. You didn’t want to wither away until your body let go of your extremities and eyes and senses to preserve and feed the part of you the Empire found useful.

Unfortunately, it was too late to worry about any of that. Too late to say you don’t want to be in this program. Too late to beg for a different assignment, something planetside where you could use your abilities to predict rebel activities. Too late to do anything about the sparks your ports sent up through the helms column that made an impressively long wick out of your ponytail. And it was way too damn late for you to finally be realizing why you spent your entire life haunted by daymares of a man on fire screaming for his life.

“Yeah… You get a feelin’ for it.”

#chi writes #i know this is a word salad; i'm rusty so don't bully me #this is how a hemorebel is born #what happens next may surprise you #ptolem drabbles #ptolem valens #delphi vitale #idk how to tag this so i'm playing it safe for my own finding

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radioactivepeasant · 3 years ago

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Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(This is an excerpt from my unfinished but fully outlined Reign of Vader fic, in which Darth Vader assassinates Palpatine and then finds out that unfortunately this means he actually has to rule. After Luke is captured by the Empire, Vader reveals both his heritage and a desire to fix things in the galaxy. Luke is wary, but it's not like he has anywhere to go)

Darth Vader was not a man of infinite patience, and the Ruling Council was growing ever nearer to discovering the limits of his tolerance.

"Day-to-day procedures are a delicate matter, Majesty," Greejatus was saying, "It would be an unprecedented disaster to force change upon all offices all at once. May I recommend a gradual shift as your reign takes root?"

"Yes yes," Sate Pesage agreed. His eyes glittered out of his gaunt face with ambition. "This proposal to outlaw slavery, for instance-"

"-Is non-negotiable," Vader interrupted. "It was an idiot's decision to legalize it in the first place. My empire will have no need of slave labor."

"Of course!" Pesage bowed. He was beginning to sweat under that ridiculous hat of his. "We are eager to begin this journey into the future your reign promises, Majesty. But the galaxy is vast. Perhaps it is best to...phase the law in slowly? It takes time to bring new ordinances all the way to the Outer Rim."

Vader had heard quite enough for one day.

"Enough. The decree goes into effect tonight."

He stood, and all five members of the Council jumped a little.

"You have until then to review the revised legal codes I have provided for you."

[[MORE]]

With a sardonic lilt to his voice, he added, "The rule of the Grand Vizier through the Moffs has ended, gentlemen. If you do not feel that you are adequately prepared for the task ahead, I will accept your resignation and begin the process of finding your successor."

He waved a hand. "In the next week, we begin hearings for the Alderaanian Massacre. You are dismissed."

There was a certain satisfaction in watching Palpatine's five advisers bowing and trembling on their way out. After decades of putting up with their snide comments and inane commands, it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Of course, they hadn't covered much. Just an overview of what the Imperial Ruling Council actually did. Once Vader mentioned that he intended to sell his secondary residence in the district and distribute the funds as reparations, the meeting had devolved into excuses and protests for the next two hours. Luckily, he was far too stubborn to pay any attention to their complaints.

While he had no strong feelings about most of his actions in the last nineteen years, neither hatred nor regret, he was willing to acknowledge that not all of his targets had been legitimate in a military sense. For Padme's sake, he would make amends if possible.

Naturally, it was uncomfortable to try putting a price on life. But the sale of that ridiculous "castle" Palpatine insisted on him staying in would provide a good starting place.

It took about fifteen minutes of calculating, but ultimately Vader decided there was more than enough in Palpatine's personal accounts to cover about 17,000 wrongful death settlements, with additional funds in the cases of recurring medical bills.

Arranging reparations for Alderaan would take more work. Vader quickly decided he was going to delegate that to the department of finances.

(They...did have a department of finances, didn't they? Surely Sidious hadn't done his own bookkeeping.)

With that settled, Vader's itinerary consisted primarily of a meeting with the Hands to make sure they knew their boundaries. After that, a remote consultation with a newly-renowned surgeon living in one of the lower districts. It would, unfortunately, take up the majority of the day. But for now, at least, he had two hours to himself.

The emperor closed his eyes and stretched out with his senses. It took several seconds before he was able to pinpoint his son's location. Luke's presence was dimmed, slightly. Muffled.

The reason for this became apparent the moment Vader found him.

Inside the library, on the lower level, Luke was sprawled across one of the ridiculous armchairs the nobles had favored. A book lay open on his chest, rising and falling gently. A small stack of texts encompassing everything from speeder repair to adventure novels sat on the floor, just next to where one of Luke's hands dangled off the edge of the arm rest. Clearly, he had been in the library for several hours before falling asleep.

Sleep had softened the boy's features, painting him in a far more vulnerable light. The fear and caution of the previous night had been wiped away, leaving someone who seemed far too young, and far too small. How could he be twenty? How could Padme's baby already be twenty?

It was tempting to leave him there. To let him sleep. But the chair was not the most supportive frame, nor was the library the most secure chamber of the palace. Reluctantly, Vader bent to touch Luke's cheek.

"Luke," he said quietly, "This is hardly an appropriate place to sleep."

Luke's eyelids fluttered, but he did not fully awaken at once. Carefully, ever so carefully, Vader took hold of Luke's shoulders and guided him back into an upright position.

"Your spine will thank me later," he said.

Luke shifted, then opened his eyes with a groan. He didn’t seem to register Vader’s presence at first. One arm stretched up over his head, and the other came up to rub at his eyes.

“What time is it?” he yawned.

“Nearly noon,” answered Vader. The meeting with the Council had taken far longer than he would’ve liked. “Are you hungry?”

With a garbled sound, Luke waved a hand from side to side. “Don’t know yet?” he said in a still sleep-slurred voice.

After a few more seconds, he finally noticed just who had woken him. Instinctively, he straightened his spine, and looked a little bit nervous.

“Oh,” he said, very quietly. “H-hello, Father.”

“Hello, son.” Vader sounded amused. “Was your choice of reading that dull?”

After a moment, Luke nodded. He made a face. "I know there's supposed to be a famous musical made from this or something. But a whole chapter on how the sewer system of Ryloth's capital city works doesn't seem like good song material."

He jumped when Vader laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, utterly at odds with his austere appearance.

"Poor boy!" He gently took the book from his son. "That was required reading for our literature studies when I was a boy. I loathed it. Very few of my peers sought it out voluntarily."

"I guess I can see why," Luke admitted. "But it seemed like it was going to be a good story."

"Then you are better served finding an abridged copy, I think," Vader chuckled. "Come. You should eat something."

Luke pushed himself up out of the chair. “Do I...need to put the books back?”

Vader leaned back on his heels. He looked at the books, then at the shelves. “I...will leave that to your best judgement. I do not know where you got them from.”

It was such a normal sounding conversation! Why?!

Why did you have to be like...like this?! Luke fought a surprising burst of frustration. I have no idea how to talk to you!

Serious and formal one moment, then laughing the next? Vader? Laughing?! It was as if the man he’d met on Cymoon and the man idly examining his stack of books were two completely different people.

Luke set the books on the console with the Holonet terminal eventually. Vader had suggested that he learn the cataloguing system of the room at a later time. At least that seemed to mean that he would be allowed to go back to the library again. Luke thought about his conversation with Artoo. Perhaps his father was trying to be kind to him. Whether that kindness would extend to anyone else was a different matter.

“I thought you were still meeting with dignitaries or something,” Luke said.

He trailed along behind Vader up an ornate staircase with his hands in his pockets. He was still uncomfortable walking too closely to the man. For all that he acknowledged that the new emperor was, indeed, his father, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

Luke took a moment to internally groan at his unintended pun. Han would probably have elbowed him in the ribs for saying something like that. Chewie would think it was hilarious.

Luke’s attempt to stay safely out of range failed quite suddenly. Vader deliberately slowed his steps so that Luke couldn’t hang back without being extremely obvious about it. He didn’t want to offend the emperor, so he tried to ignore his fight or flight instincts shaking his insides and kept pace with his father.

“I have several more meetings to endure today,” Vader said casually. “But the most onerous of those has been dealt with.”

This was not quite true. The Ruling Council was too full of Palpatine loyalists. Just intimidating them into compliance would only work for so long. They had connections, and they had money, and that could prove to be a headache if not dealt with sooner. Vader needed to replace at least three of them.

He had almost considered appointing Luke as Vizier in Amedda’s place, but had quickly thought better of it. Such a position would almost guarantee that Luke would never have time to fly again. Cutting a Skywalker off from the stars for good seemed too cruel.

His son had not had the childhood he could have had if his mother had lived. If Palpatine had died much sooner. Let him enjoy his youth while he could.

But the problem of finding a Ruling Council that Vader could trust would still be waiting.

“The stupid hat club, right?” Luke asked.

He was unsettled by Vader’s proximity. Vader could sense that. He understood: the armor had been made to terrify. Perhaps one day he would have the option of seeing his son with his own eyes, but for now the boy would have to acclimate himself to the sight.

It was not often that Vader found himself cursing the cold, impersonal nature of his mask. He would have liked to smile at his son.

“Yes. The...stupid hat club.” He settled for letting his amusement be clearly heard in his voice. “That is not an inaccurate description. They run the day-to-day matters of ruling an Empire. But as they were all close to the former ruler, I find that I’d rather not trust them in matters of delegating governance.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he agreed.

#star wars #star wars wednesday #fic prompts #writing prompts #Reign of Vader #luke skywalker #darth vader #ooc vader because Palpatine is dead and he's trying to decide what that means for his personality #luke is very uncomfortable but seeing Vader and Artoo arguing over upgrades helps #palpatine did not give vader any indication that ruling an empire meant actually working #he's operating on the bits and pieces he remembers from Padme's work and hating every minute of it #guess how long the empire is going to last when it turns out the emperor hates being in charge of that much minutiae #dad vader #he's actually making an effort

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mystic-deep · 4 years ago

Text

“You don’t know how to beg, darling.” part 2 | Nanami Kento x fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Moving to your dream home had been more difficult than you had expected. Everything seems so be going well, until you get a surprise guest.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: nsfw, fingering, rough kissing, penetration, shower sex

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: part two is here! hope you guys enjoy it, I know I did while writing it haha and as always it's not proofread so please show mercy.

♡ ♡ ♡ part one here: “You don’t know how to beg, darling.”

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 3.3 k

“It’s not too big but it’s not too small, and property is selling like crazy in this neighborhood, so I think you’re making a great investment!”

The real estate agent pulled in front of a modest looking house and offered you a hopeful grin. It had been almost a month since you were house hunting and nothing really fit with what you were looking for. Your dream home was proving to be quite an impossible task – either the property was good but it was too far from the beach, or the property was right on the beach but the house was a disaster. The ones that hurt the most? The houses that were just right but they were over budget.

“I don’t know, I’m not impressed.”

With pursed lips, you stepped out of the car and looked at the exterior wall of the house that clearly needed some good repairs. As you followed the agent through the metal gate and into the front garden, you had to admit that it at least had some nice flower arrangements and sturdy trees offered a pleasant shade.

“It has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small study, a large kitchen equipped with all the newest gadgets, a garage and quite a cozy living room.”

As you stepped inside you had to admit that it looked much better that what the exterior had promised. The rooms were spacious enough, the main bedroom having a nice view of the beach and the kitchen was indeed equipped with everything you’d want a modern kitchen to have.

It might not have been perfect, there was definitely work to be done and the furniture it came with was hideous, but so far it was the best you’ve seen. However, just like you expected, it was over budget.

Sensing your indecisive state, like any good agent would, the young woman pushed you from behind towards the terrace. “Oh, but I haven’t showed you the best part yet!”

You gasped, you just stood there like an idiot and gasped as you stepped out on the terrace and looked straight at the sea in front of you. Forget being near the beach, you were literally on the beach! There was a small wooden trail leading to the golden sand and the blue waves, just a minute walk and you’d be submersed in the cool water.

“Imagine waking up to this every morning and imagine reading a book and drinking a glass of wine as the sun sets.” The devil on your shoulder, that’s what it felt like as she whispered almost seductively in your ear. You were impressed with her skill though - she definitely left the best part for last just to give it that wow factor.

Still, it was a going to drain almost all of your economies and - “The beach in front is private, you own it.”

“Where do I sign?”

The agent gave you a tight hug, more than happy to finally be rid of you, and dashed to the car where she happened to have a bottle of champagne prepared for the wonderful occasion. You thought to yourself that she either was so confident in her skills that she will convince you to buy this house, or prepared to get drunk after yet another failed attempt.

You looked back at the incredible blue sea and took a deep breath. It was scary, it was right down terrifying to jump head on into the unknown and with no current financial stability. You still had a regular income from your previous job since your boss pretty much refused to let you go, but you had half of your responsibilities and obviously half the salary. You would be on a tight budget for the next few months, you had to see if the house needed any immediate repairs and you had to redecorate everything inside.

“And when will your husband be joining you?”

You were brought back to the harsh reality by the excited voice of the young woman who was now pouring the cheap champagne in plastic glasses.

“Soon…he still has some things he needs to take care of back home.”

Your heart began to tighten in your chest as your thumb gently rubbed the golden ring on your index finger. You were so used to wearing it that you simply put it on every morning like routine. When asked, you told everyone that you were still married because you felt you would be safer that way and because, technically, you still were.

After your last exchange of messages Nanami had not contacted you once. He didn’t sign the divorce papers and you were starting to think that hiring a lawyer just seemed inevitable at this point. You had been so caught up with the moving and the house hunting that you just pushed it in the back of your mind like some trivial matter that you’ll take care of once you got around.

“Well I’m sure he’s just going to love your new home! Here’s to a happy family!”

You took a sip from the champagne glass, quickly spitting the liquid back before the agent could see you, and looked outside the window. Family…you felt like you were a long way from achieving that, but owning your very own little piece of heaven in Malaysia sure made things easier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a sigh you pulled the phone away from your ear as the whimpers of your boss were now scratching your eardrums. “No, I’m not coming back, we’ve talked about this hundreds of times already. Also, please stop crying.”

“And I’m telling you that you’ve offered them too much for such a small quantity of products. Last year when we made the purchase we offered them 30% less, what made them spike the prices so high this time around?” You poured the fresh coffee in your favorite mug and skillfully avoided stepping on your cat as you moved to place it on a tray.

“The bad economy has affected everyone not just them.” You propped your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you dropped a tablespoon of sugar in the coffee and began to stir. “Tell them that you’re going to offer them 10% more than what we offered last year and only if they increase the batch by 20%.” Your eyes narrowed slightly as you placed a book on the tray and a freshly baked pain au chocolat. “What do you mean what are you going to do with the rest of the products? Sell them to your competitors at double the price. Have I taught you nothing?”

Several minutes later, after somewhat managing to calm down the older man, you strolled down the wooden path to the beach where a large folding chair and a small table were waiting for you. You placed the tray on the table, sat down and took in the wonderful view in front of you. The weather outside was perfect and you decided to wear just a light summer dress that was slightly transparent.

You took a sip from your coffee and opened your book, deciding that this was a day for lazing around. It had been more than a month since you’ve finally finished with all the repairs and decorations but it was worth the long wait. Everything looked just perfect now, you had flexible working hours and you even managed to adopt a stray cat.

Yes, everything was perfect, everything was going great.

“Took me forever to find you.”

You looked up from your book and blinked once, blinked twice, and still couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There, hovering above you, stood Nanami with his blond hair and sharp blue eyes, with his sand colored pants and his white shirt with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, the golden band of the wedding ring shinning in the sun.

“What…How…When…” You didn’t even know how to phrase your shock. A part of you was hoping that you were hallucinating.

“It took me forever to convince your mother to talk to me. Then probably just as long to get her to tell me where you were. She’s not really good at remembering small details so she had no idea what your house looked like.” He huffed in annoyance before plopping down on the sand by your side. “Took me awhile to find the house.”

“How did you get in?”

“Strangely enough she remembered perfectly where the spare key was.” Betrayed by my own mother, you thought bitterly.

“Why are you here, Nanami?”

“Not Kento? From what I remember, you’re Nanami too.”

Your face began to burn with anger and sensing that you were on the verge of exploding, he quickly fished out of his pocket a folded paper.

“I’m not here to fight, I just came to give you this.” You took the piece of paper with trembling hands and opened it. The divorce papers, and they were signed. Finally, your marriage was over.

“You could have just mailed them to me.”

“I didn’t come all the way here just to hand you the papers, I also wanted to talk. You owe me that much after pulling that disappearing act.”

Your first intention was to protest, then again maybe listening to him rather than fighting back would make things end quicker. You offered him a little nod to continue.

“I don’t have excuses for cheating on you. No one seduced me, I searched for someone to bend to my will and I found her quickly. I wanted to feel needed…no, I wanted to feel like I was dominating.” His eyes looked down to his hands almost in shame. “You were working so hard, you were so ambitious, it felt like you could truly achieve our dream…while I had so little hope it was possible, it felt like you would leave me behind.”

You listened attentively to every word, trying your best not to let the anger get to you. Just bear with it, let him say whatever will make him feel better and then you won’t have to see him ever again. Although, now that he was in front of you, that thought was turning to be hell.

“I was jealous, I was jealous of the fact that I was no longer your priority. I feared the day you’d realize you didn’t really need me and that you could achieve everything by your own.”

“So you’ve cheated on me and said all those cruel things because you were insecure?” Your eyes became watery as your hands curled in tight fists. “Is this all you had to say? Because I think I’ve heard enough.”

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused, I’m sorry for not being strong enough to make our dream come true. That day when you left me was also the day I ended my affair. If I could…but I can’t, so I guess that yeah, that’s all I had to say.”

He stood up and gently patted his pants to get rid of the sand before looking at you.

“For all it’s worth, I really like the house and I like the cat and-” His eyes traveled to your chest that was covered by the thin white material of the dress. “-I definitely like this dress.”

Your cheeks turned pink and your arms quickly went to cover the skin that felt so exposed. Taking advantage of your distraction, he reached for your legs and lifted you up, carrying you princess style, and began to walk towards the sea.

“W-What are you doing?”

You were met with silence as Nanami continued his march unbothered by your kicking and screaming.

“Wait! The water is pretty cold!” Despite your protest, he entered the icy blue water, trying his best to hide the little winces every time a small wave hit him.

“Nanami, if you drop me, I swear-”

“I thought you wanted me to let you down.”

“Oh you’ve let me down plenty of times already.”

With a small glare, he retrieved his arm making you fall unceremoniously in the cold water. You let at a shriek and realized in horror that the divorce papers that you were holding were now being washed away by the sea.

“Oh no, how very tragic.” Nanami’s smirk and sarcasm were the last straw, and you plunged yourself at him, knocking him down in the shallow water.

His eyes grew large and tried to fight you as you straddled him and pinned his arms above his head.

“Move.” His voice was low and dangerous but the adrenaline pumping in your veins made you immune.

“You don’t know how to beg, darling.” There were a series of emotions flashing in his eyes, from shock, to anger, to amusement and finally…sadness.

“But if I learn, will you take me back?”

You looked at him and time just seemed to stop. Right here, this moment, this bickering and playing in the water, this half wet half disheveled man, the way he looked at you, your clothes wet and sticking to your skin, sticking to each other…it was perfect.

Your lips crushed on his in a hungry kiss and he eagerly retuned it. With a quick movement, he wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted your body along with his. Effortlessly, you thought as you your legs wrapped around his waist and let yourself be carried inside the house.

“Bedroom.” You motioned to the small stairs that ledmk to the first floor and he pretty much jogged towards the room, all the while maneuvering splendidly your excited cat that thought it was time to play.

He closed the door behind you before his hand reached for the back of your head and pulled you in for another deep kiss. You both began to shiver, probably from the excitement of finally touching each other for so long but also because you were wet from head to toe.

“Undress.” He pulled slightly away and began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving you.

“You’re pretty monosyllabic today.” You ignored his annoyed expression and focused on removing your dress, but your hands froze on the waistband of your panties.

What were you doing? Was this enough? Was this all it took for you to forgive him and welcome him back with opened arms?

“I’ll help you remove these.” With a quick movement, he pulled down the piece of lingerie and tossed it on the ground where the rest of the clothes were. You didn’t even realize when he had backed you against the wall, but now here you were, trapped like last time, the only difference was that now you were both very much naked.

He was so close to you that your perked nipples were softly brushing against his bare chest. Slowly, he let his hand travel between your thighs and began to rub gently with his thumb. You inhaled deeply and looked down at his cock, hard and swollen and begging for attention. You wrapped your small hand around it and gave it a few gentle strokes, noticing how his brows began to furrow and sweat began to form on his forehead.

He was hard and more than ready to have you against the wall, and as his finger travelled to your folds, he realized you were wet and needy and more than ready to be taken.

Just as you were anticipating his fingers to enter you, he pulled away and took a few steps back. You were left there, the light of the morning sun shining on your naked body and looked at him in a quizzical way.

“Beautiful…you’re just so damn beautiful.” Your face felt red and hot and the lack of his touch made your body shiver.

Noticing your state, Nanami gently took your hand and guided you both to the bathroom, turning on the shower before letting you step inside.

You left out a sigh as the hot water washed over your skin and glanced over your shoulder as Nanami stepped inside as well, one hand resting on the shower tiles while the other rested on your hip.

“Hard and fast.” He whispered in your ear as you felt the tip of his cock probing at your entrance. “Hard and fast and then I promise…I’ll make it slow and good for you.” With that he entered you with a deep thrust and you let your head fall back in a silent scream.

He wasn’t joking when he said hard and fast, his hips were snapping into you at such a pace you were seeing stars. Your hands fell on the wet tiles, trying to hold your body from collapsing. It had been too long for the both of you so you understood the urgency of fucking you so intensely.

His hand travelled to your clit and began to rub it vigorously, making all your body tremble from head to toe. “Oh! K-Kento!”

“So we’re back to Kento now?”

You turned your head to look at him and arched a brow. “Do you want me to call you ‘daddy’?”

He pinched your clit hard and rubbed your left nipple with little mercy. “Would you like to call me that, princess?” His hand left your clit and landed a slap against your ass. “Although, I suggest next time you put a little more effort into it, just to avoid punishment.” He was grinning from head to toe, the damn bastard was enjoying every single second of this teasing.

Your mouth opened in order to argue back but you let out a loud moan as he began to push himself inside of you even deeper. So close, you were so close and he was hitting just that right spot. The warm water was falling on your already hot skin, the slaps that his hips made against your body were making lewd sounds that filled the whole bathroom, everything was foggy and your mouth felt dry.

“Fuck, I’m so close-” You could hear him mumble some other words but you were so far gone at this point that the only thing that you could concentrate on was your inevitable soul shattering climax.

“Oh god, please, please, Kento, I’m almost, I’m-” You let out a scream as you came around his swollen cock, nearly collapsing in the process. With his hand tightly fixated on your hips, Nanami slowed down for a moment, letting you regain some kind of composer before returning to a fast pace. You were so wet, you were squeezing him so tightly, your little moans and whimpers sent vibrations to his lower stomach, making him shiver.

“You’re just so perfect, my love. You’re always just so perfect for me to fuck.” A few more thrusts and his hands gripped with such force at your hips that you were sure he left bruises. You didn’t care at the very least, not when your husband had just let out the most primal growl you ever heard him making and his cock filled your hole with his delicious hot cum.

You both just stood there for a few seconds, your forehead resting on the slightly cool tile while Nanami kissed your shoulders before finally pulling out of you.

“Now that hard and fast is over…when am I getting slow and good?”

“Always so greedy.” He let out a light chuckle before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you.” Just like that, he let the words roll out of his mouth with such ease and looked at you with complete adoration.

“I love you too.” You turned around and let your hands gently caress his cheeks, the happiness of being able to say these words again making you feel light as a feather.

“Good, I’ll need you to love me a lot. There will be plenty of other ‘hard and fast’ sessions before this day is over.” And for once, you didn’t open your mouth to argue.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami

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dennou-translations · 4 years ago

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Violet Evergarden Booklet 1

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

Index || Next →

That day was a special one for me, but to the rest of the world, this was not the case.

Ann Magnolia and Her Nineteenth Birthday

There was a number of things I had to do on the special day called today.

I would wake up in the morning and check the weather. As if a tale were beginning, I would turn the curtains over and look outside the window.

The radiant daylight shone on my eyes. Today was sunny. Knowing that made me happy. That I had woken up enveloped in sunshine. That I didn’t have to worry about my letter getting drenched in rain. It was almost as if the truth of these facts was blessing the day.

——I’m happy.

Very happy.

I didn’t usually say this, but I felt like saying it today, so I whispered as I laid back down, “Good morning.”

Husky with wake, my voice echoed through the quiet bedroom. I wandered around in search for someone to have a conversation with from the words “good morning”. However, I couldn’t find anyone to hear them, so they pointlessly vanished somewhere.

If you were just by yourself, words would die as soon as they were born. I knew that as the truth of this world. Like flowers that withered without changing colors, like small birds that couldn’t endure the coldness of midwinter, my words would promptly die. After all, words were tools for people to communicate their intentions. So if there was no other party, they would all but die. That was evident.

There was no one who would reply to me with a “good morning”. There was no one in this house that would do a morning greeting, so if anyone were to say that this much was obvious, it sure was. But in my memories, someone whose voice I had already forgotten would return my words. In a warm and soft voice that was probably how my mother sounded, they would be returned to me.

“Good morning, Ann.”

——Good morning.

“Today is a special day, huh.”

——I know; I’d been counting them with my fingers.

“Your long-awaited birthday.”

With a nod, I stood up.

Today, I was turning nineteen. Twelve years had passed since I had been left all by myself when I was seven years old. I reflected thoroughly upon that reality alone and proudly.

I left my bedroom still wearing a negligee, heading to the spiral staircase. There were portraits hanging in rows from the staircase’s wall.

“My, you’re going outside dressed like this just because you’re at home?”

Decorated with pictures of family members, the wall used to be terrifying for me when I was a child, but it became less so after my mother was added to them. I would go up and down those stairs countless times every day, but the only spot that I would end up directing my gaze to for a few seconds was the portrait of my mother and my childhood self.

If, by any chance, there was strength to the thing called “love”, I thought, if there was a force residing within love, wouldn’t this image start moving one day, since it was the only one I looked at as if I were yearning for something?

I would end up embracing such fantasies.

“I won’t change, no matter how much you stare at me. By the way, doesn’t my complexion look a little bad in this portrait? I should have had more paint put over it.”

Of course, it was just a fabrication.

Having come down the stairs, I went to the front entrance, its door a little worn-out. I should call a repairer. The house was a living being just like me, and since it was already quite old, it was always broken somewhere.

“I also want you to tend to the garden. When was the last time you held a broom?”

As I came outside, I could see this place’s whole scenery. There was nothing but lush grassland and tree-lined roads. The idyllic sight was awfully boring, but above that, it was beautiful, so if you made a frame with your fingers, you would immediately have a scenic picture. In this entire area, there were no other houses in sight. Of course. This territory was under the control of the Magnolias, hence this view belonged to me, the family head.

As long as I didn’t sell or give it away, this landscape would never change. And, same as the previous family heads, I didn’t wish for it to change. Neither did I wish to leave this place. Even if I was all by myself.

“Ann, let’s take a look inside the mailbox.”

I took a look inside the mailbox. Perhaps because it was still early in the morning, there was nothing in it yet.

“It’ll surely be coming soon.”

Today was the day when I, Ann Magnolia, was born. Every year on my birthday, I would get letters from my late mother. Letters from my mother, who by now had become a portrait, would be delivered to me.

“There is no such thing as a letter that needn’t be delivered, Milady.”

To be precise, letters with my mother’s feelings blown into them and ghostwritten by an Auto-Memories Doll would be delivered to me. It was a strange story, but a true one.

“Auto-Memories Doll”. Long had passed ever since this name caused a stir.

The creator was an authority in the field of mechanical dolls, Professor Orlando. His wife, Molly, was a novelist, and all had begun with the posterior loss of her eyesight. He then invented a machine to perform ghostwriting for his beloved wife and named it Auto-Memories Doll. Nowadays, people who worked as ghostwriters were also called Auto-Memories Dolls.

When I was seven, my mother, who was plagued with a serious illness, summoned a beautiful blue-eyed Auto-Memories Doll to our manor. She made her write several letters and hired a postal company to deliver them to me even after her death. She had been secretly planning out a few decades worth of birthday messages for her beloved daughter.

The person who had made this request was an oddball, but the ones who had accepted the job were quite odd themselves. Had they not imagined that someone would abandon it at some point? Had they sealed the contract for such a heavy, troublesome work without any refusal because they were horribly bad at their business, or was it because they were too nice? Having grown into a creditable lady and come to understand the world to a certain extent, I would ponder about such things. Surely, it was because they were nice. Thanks to them, even though I didn’t have a single relative now, at least on my birthday I could recall what being loved by someone felt like.

Just like that, I stood fidgety in front of the mailbox. Closing my eyes, I cleared off the dust on the box of my memories.

——I remember. That she had come around. That she would be over there, quietly writing letters. I remember the figure of that person and of my smiling mother. Surely, until I died...

That few-days’ time had been seared into my mind. Back then, my... Back then, Ann Magnolia’s frizzy hair was still short, and she was selfish and pretended to be taller. She was a helpless child. A very young one. How old she was? Seven years old. An age where one would still long for their mother. Her mother was the center of the world. If her mother died, she wouldn’t even be able to breathe. She was that kind of child. She was aware that her emotions were unstable and that she tended to act a little rashly.

Most people would treat someone like me nicely, and that was it. People who had their eyes on my fortune attempted to get close to me, but once they noticed that I had no intention to let them do so, they never showed their faces to me again.

That person—that person... Violet Evergarden. That Auto-Memories Doll was a bit different from other people, I thought...

Whenever I wondered what was so different about her, I would find myself thinking.

Back then, Ann Magnolia had fallen in love with a mysterious girl who had come around all of a sudden. It was a little girl’s romantic love out of adoration. She both hated and liked the Auto-Memories Doll who had come around out of the blue and stolen her time with her mother.

——What was it that I liked about her?

She was a taciturn and unsociable. A silent porcelain doll. She seemed extremely adult-like. But looking back, she often reacted like a child who knew nothing. Even when I gave her dolls, she didn’t know how to play. Neither did she have any knowledge of how to solve riddles. Even when I made her touch bugs, she never ran away like my mother or our maid. Whenever I invited her to join hands and spin around, we would do it to no end.

“Fufu...”

She was a weird person. Yes, a weird one.

Children would look at adults and measure them by whether they were scary or foolish, would be their allies or enemies, would give them candy or not, and other such things. They would stare very, very fixatedly and judge the grown-ups.

She... that beautiful Auto-Memories Doll... Violet Evergarden was not an adult.

——Yes, she was... how should I put it? She was Violet Evergarden.

Which was why I had snuggled up to her, the same type of person as myself, just like two cats nestling close to each other, I thought.

She was a beautiful child. A beautiful beast. I found her eccentric self to be cool, so I liked her.

Where was she now and what was she doing, I wondered.

I was turning nineteen, but back in the day, she must have been younger than I am now. For her to have prosthetic arms, it wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened to her at the time, when the war had just ended. But surely, there was no doubt that her life had been full of many more ups and downs than the story I had in mind.

Did she not express her emotions enough because she was carrying some sort of wound in her heart? She was such a beautiful person, so she must have won over the heart of some wonderful person by now...

I shook my head left and right. I mustn’t have unjust suspicions of her. I shouldn’t prod into how I was back then – into the Ann Magnolia of back then – and taint it. Even if it was just me with myself, I mustn’t do that. Because all of the joys and sorrows from that time belonged to the old me, who had endured those days. Having become an adult, I shouldn’t have any say over the mental landscape of my old self, as a third party.

Having grown up, I observed my own land, which spread out endlessly. The scent of gently swaying grass and flowers, the chattering of birds, the clouds that moved slowly in the blue sky. It felt like they would be here just like that for a hundred more years.

“It’s not coming, huh. Let’s go eat breakfast.”

Since the postman wasn’t showing up, I had no choice but go back into the manor.

I had been working at home lately. I used to go outside and enjoy the world when I was a student, but I realized that, in the end, I liked being in my house. Maybe this was a Magnolia bloodline thing.

As for my from-home job, I worked with legal counseling. When I was little, I had experienced disputes amongst my own relatives over me and my assets. That was the reason why, if I had to give any.

My mother had left me with a talented legal advisor. A person of outstanding character, who still concerned himself with me even now. As a young child, I excelled at catching insects that I had never seen before, but I didn’t have the means to oppose to the people who wanted to steal this land from me one way or another.

I had started off working at the city’s legal information center, introduced to me by the legal advisor, who had taken me in, and only recently had I become independent. Living in the city had made me realize many things. That there were many people in this world who weren’t protected like me. And that this wasn’t something those people themselves wanted, but things had turned out in such a way due to the environment they were in.

The ascension of the ghostwriting business had a similar background. Children would be made to work like adults, unable to go to school, so when they grew up and had to sign any documents, they couldn’t even write their own names.

People like that, who had been raised in environments where no one helped them, weren’t a rarity. I had heard that the literacy rate was currently rising, but it would still take a long time for this to become something unusual.

Just like with ghostwriting, one could become somebody’s ally through the law. It was especially necessary for children who had been thrown out like me and younglings who were about to enter the world of adults, I believed. Because they could earn completely different futures as a result if they acquired knowledge.

“The law is a weapon,” my legal advisor would say. I agreed with that. My property had been protected by this weapon many times. Some people would say that education was the weapon, but the situations for putting it to use were too limited. Weapons exerted their true value exactly when you had to protect yourself from falling victim to unjust acts or insults.

If possible, I wanted to be someone who could protect others. I wanted to tell people who didn’t know what to do and had become incapable of even walking on their own, “It’s all right; I’ll be your ally”. Because I wanted someone to do that for me back when I was alone.

My reason for choosing law was rooted in this kind of self-righteous way of thinking.

Since I worked from home, I didn’t earn much. To be honest, people would think that being a professional was a pastime for a landowning wealthy lady. I was fine with that.

The people who came to visit me in this remote place were generally in critical situations and had nothing. Those who had something would go to the city. They would go to the city, bow their heads to some famous person, be served a fine brand of tea... and have a graceful conversation while drinking it.

If I could, I wanted to get close to people, just like her. Just like the Auto-Memories Doll who had told me on that day that it was okay to cry. Even if for self-satisfaction.

Speaking of which, I thought as I checked the calendar. Today was my birthday, so I intended to wait for the postman the whole day and hadn’t scheduled any appointments, but a client was coming tomorrow. I should clean up the reception room at least a little.

“Hey, Ann. It is your birthday, so how about going outside with your friends and having a meal with them?”

I had to sweep the floor, take the garbage off the carpet and dust the dirt on the furniture.

“Even just eating something tasty is enough, Ann.”

Right, I should bake some sweets to serve to the costumer tomorrow. It could also be used as celebration for my birthday.

“Ann, aren’t you lonely all by yourself?”

If I was certain, that person had eaten the sweets I baked when we first met with relish. He had a sweet tooth.

As I recalled the figure of that young entrepreneur eating, looking embarrassed and delighted, a smile surfaced naturally. Out of the people that I was currently engaging with, he might be the one whose visit I looked forward to the most. I did think that men were frowny and sullen creatures, but he was adorable.

I rolled up my sleeves with an “all right” and headed to the kitchen.

“Delivery.”

As the front door’s bell rang and the voice of a visitor ensued, I frantically flung away my bowl and whisk and ran. This is what happens when you distractedly make sweets for about an hour. I was covered in flour and looking unbecoming, but there was no helping it.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

I opened the door in high spirits, and standing there was a postman wearing the uniform of the city’s post office, which I was familiar with. I was disappointed enough that even I myself would think it was a bit childish of me. The other didn’t see my facial expression as he requested my signature for the express delivery without looking at me, but I wound up having an impolite attitude.

——It wasn’t the CH Postal Company.

My mother’s birthday messages were being kept by the CH Postal Company, a mail company that had its main office located in Leiden – the capital of Leidenschaftlich, a southernmost military nation. Therefore, if a different company had come, then the mail wasn’t from my mother.

“Thank you very much.”

I had received three packages. One was a table clock from my legal advisor. The others were accessories and a shawl that were trending in the city from my friends.

There were people getting married and having children upon turning nineteen. All of my closest friends had been quick to marry. Both my opinion that secluding themselves in their homes was a waste in this era of professional women and my envy at the fact that they had found themselves a partner in an early stage of their lives coexisted in the depths of my mind.

“You don’t have to hurry; if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

Having lost my mother, with this vast land and this manor of excessively elegant exterior in my possession... I couldn’t think that having a family wouldn’t be a good thing.

——Family... family... family, huh?

Did I want a family? Did I really? Those genuine questions surfaced in my mind first-thing.

Welcoming a family would mean welcoming that person’s life. It was an extremely heavy choice. “In health and sickness,” people would lightheartedly say. I believed there were actually few people who properly understood it.

My friends who had married. The people who walked around the city. Lovers and family members from all over the world – everyone. Did they all truly understand? They only looked on the happy side, so could they endure it when a sad scenario arrived upon them? Wouldn’t they end up thinking that not loving the other person would have been better?

“Human beings are creatures that love others in pursuit of happiness, Ann.”

In my experience, since I had seen off the person who was most important to me, the truth was that I didn’t want to go through it ever again. Being told to do it one more time was too hard. Even twenty years later, painful things would be painful.

I brought my consciousness back to reality.

Colorful ribbons, extravagant wrappings and wonderful gifts. As my social disposition was coming to a slight halt, those people were irreplaceable to me. I had to write thank-you notes right away. For these kinds of things, the faster, the better. Because it conveyed sincerity.

I should go back to my bedroom and look for the stationery and envelopes. They were surely somewhere there.

“Ann.”

——Aah, but was it a pretty stationery?

Maybe I should choose a different one, fitting of these wonderful presents.

“Ann, listen.”

They were surely items that took a while to be picked, so I should respond to the other party’s feelings the same way. There were many things to be watchful of here. I had to do it quick. I had to do it soon.

“Please listen.”

Nobody else was going to do it; I was the one who had to. No matter what, I had to do it. I had to taste joy and sadness all by myself and end it fast. Because I was alone. Hurry. I had to hurry and do it.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t move.

“Ann.”

I was in the middle of making sweets, and writing thank-you notes required some preparation. Above all, I couldn’t calm down until my mother’s letter arrived.

Giving several reasons, I made up several excuses not to move.

“Ann... it’s okay.”

I suddenly felt exhausted. Everything became a bother. Even though hands were covered in flour and I was still wearing an apron, I lay on the couch, rolled into fetal position and scrunched down.

Although I had received such marvelous gifts, the feeling of happiness didn’t last. Even though it was something to be grateful for to the point I could be in a good mood the whole day, the feeling of happiness didn’t last. It didn’t last.

“Ann, it’s okay.”

Today was that kind of day.

“Ann, don’t force yourself; I’m sorry.”

——I’m sorry.

“Sorry...”

——I’m sorry.

“Ann, I’m sorry...”

To me, my birthday was...

“...for leaving you behind when you were so small.”

...not my day. It was my mother’s.

——Mom. Why? Just why? Why, Mom? Why did you die sooner than the mothers of the other kids? What is it that went wrong? Did the fact that I was born itself become a burden to you? If so, then I shouldn’t have been born.

I loved you, Mom. Did you know that? I liked you a whole, whole lot. Tired of hearing this? But you didn’t know it, right? Even if you knew, you probably didn’t understand how much I liked you. I’m sure you had no idea how much.

When I realized it, I had more time seeing you in a grave than otherwise. But you’re everywhere in our house. On the sofa that you often sat on. In the music that you enjoyed. On the bed that still smells like you. In myself, who resembles you more and more with each day.

Mom, Mom, Mom – you keep reminding me of how much I loved you. When I was little, you were the world itself.

Mom. You loved me. I know that. But I loved you too. I was the one who... I was... I was... I was the one who...

Aah, Mom. Mom, there are so many things I want to tell you. But if I can say it, there’s just one thing.

Mom, you died without knowing how much I loved you, right?

I loved you much more than you could’ve imagined. I really, really suffered when you died. Enough that I couldn’t breathe.

People often say that time heals all wounds. But I really hate that saying. Rather than things being solved, we forget about them, don’t we? People’s voices, facial expressions, gestures – we forget these kinds of things. Yet I remember them in unexpected times. Like, “Oh, yeah, Mom used to like this”. “Oh, yeah, Mom used to hate that”. And then I blame myself vehemently for forgetting them. Like, “How could you have forgotten? She was your whole world”. Like, “How could you have forgotten? She was your only family”. The loop of agony has no end.

I adored you, Mom. I loved you. I loved you, so for just as much love as I had for you, it feels like my heart will break. It feels like my heart will break every time my birthday comes around. Feels like it will break. It’s painful and there’s no helping it.

Tears slip down my cheeks as I laid on my side. I was looking forward to today so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself, and yet I wound up crying again this year. I would’ve been great if I could welcome it with a smile.

A birthday was a special day.

It was nothing to the rest of the world, just an ordinary day, but it was a special one for me. Because... Because it was a day when I could feel Mom coming back to me. I looked forward to it so much that I couldn’t help myself, but at the same time, I was also helplessly sad. Because I felt my mother’s absence more than anything. Because the truth that she wasn’t here was thrust onto me.

Destiny spoke to me. Either that or God did. “Hey, your mother’s already dead. How long you gonna be crying? Stand up. If you’re alive, stand up.”

Since the world was so merciless, all I could do was nod at those words and say, “Yes, yes, true.”

By entrusting my body to hecticness, I was able to remain as someone who could stand on her own feet, just like Destiny and God wanted. I normally didn’t feel loneliness. I didn’t cry. After all, twelve years had already passed. It was weird to cry like this on and on forever. It was weird, right? I wasn’t a kid anymore. I shouldn’t cry too much. That would make me a bad girl. A girl wasn’t suitable to be the family head of the Magnolia household. I had to become a person who my mother could be proud of from within that portrait.

Wasn’t that right? I couldn’t prove the worth of my existence by doing anything else.

But on this day when I was aware that my mother loved me, I was no good. No good. I’d turn into a mess. The seven-year-old Ann Magnolia would come back to me. She’d say it all. She’d end up saying it. Always, always, always. She’d say what I was holding back from saying.

“I’m lonely”, that is.

I had as many ways of spending my birthday as I had birthdays. Surely, there were millions of people in the world whose birthday was today. How were all of them spending it? Were they spending it in a fulfilling way? There definitely were also people who lived their lives either not knowing when their birthday was or forgetting about it.

So I wasn’t miserable. Nor was I comparing myself with them. That wasn’t it. Because there were certainly people somewhere around the world who were feeling as lonely as me.

There was another thing that I had learned during the time I worked in the city. That loneliness wasn’t something only I had. Many people would come to the law firm and ask for advice regarding their troubles. Everyone was burdened with problems of their own. And everyone was a bit lonely in some aspect. It wasn’t just me, so I didn’t feel lonely.

That person too, and that one, and that other one. Everybody was sad in one way or another.

“I have to get up.”

I had stopped doing what I would do by accident – stopped throwing myself into a sea of sadness. The sea of sadness in my head was a real nuisance, yet it was also comfortable as it enveloped my body in gentle waves of self-pity. But I shouldn’t go too far. Or else I wouldn’t be able to stand up again. It wasn’t like food and sweets would materialize from my sadness.

I counted the things I had to do. Bake sweets. Clean up. I had a number of torn aprons, which I would remake into rags. And then... And then...

“Madam Magnolia, are you home?”

A real-life happening immediately pulled me out of my reverie. I ran toward the front door, from where the voice had come. As I opened the door with much vigor while making extremely improper heavy-feet noises, I found two visitors.

“Hum?”

One of them was... Aah, I was waiting for you. It was a postman wearing the CH Postal Company uniform. He was holding under his arm a letter and a package with what was most likely the gift that my mother had arranged for today.

“Aah, excuse me. Please go first.”

The other was the customer who had made an appointment reservation for tomorrow. A stray young entrepreneur. His finely tailored clothes were easy to recognize as something not order-made and that he didn’t like but was wearing regardless.

Had he mistaken the appointment day?

“Erm, then...”

The two had bumped onto each other at the front gate and both had some business with me, so they were probably conceding the turn to one another. Having been granted it, the CH Postal Company’s postman stood before me, politely giving me the letter and present with a slightly tensed-up countenance.

“This is the CH Postal Company. I have come to bring your delivery... You might be already tired of hearing this vocal message so many times, but happy birthday this year too, Madam Magnolia.”

That was a postman I had never seen before. It was a different person from last year.

“T-Tired, you say... There’s no way I would ever be.”

Still, the fact he was saying these lines meant that the demands commissioned by my mother were being properly kept and protected by that company. That was it.

“Thank you very much. For every year, truly... truly. Please tell this to your chairman too.”

“Y-Yes! Our president is the kind of person that gets very happy at inputs from the clients, so I’ll make sure to tell him!”

I had never met the president of the CH Postal Company, but for someone so young to be talking about him in such a familiar-sounding way, he had to be a wonderful person.

“I’m taking it.”

I signed the acceptance document. The postman laughed as if relieved. Also relieved, I finally looked seriously at him. He was a very young postman. Perhaps from about the same generation as me. The freckled boy looked even younger when laughing.

“I became in charge of it this year. It’s a big area, so I ended up getting a bit lost... I made you wait a lot, didn’t I?”

“Eh, no, no.”

“But you came running as if you were eagerly waiting for it.”

“Yes.”

Recalling the surprised faces of the two young men the moment I had opened the door, I trembled with shame. I was supposed to behave elegant and beautifully as the head of the Magnolia family. Yet I was covered in flour, my hair was disheveled because I had been lying down and I had showed up with footsteps that sounded like the ones of a large man.

Touching my cheeks, which were most likely growing red, I said, “I apologize for showing you an embarrassing sight... No matter what, I always wind up restless on this day.”

“Absolutely not. I’m the one who is sorry for coming late. I have already perfectly memorized the way, so please treat me well next year too.” The postman bowed with a “well, then” and ran toward a parked motorcycle.

After seeing him off, I directed my gaze at the other visitor that had been waiting for me. He, too, slowly looked my way.

“Hello.”

The morning sunshine had disappeared, a dazzling midday light filling up for it. It seemed that quite some time had passed while I was sulking on the couch. With a season of fresh green colors as the background, he was supposed to be a foreign body for me... and for this world of mine, yet he blended appallingly well into it.

“Hello.” My voice sounded a little shrill. “Isn’t there any flour on my face?” As I said this while rubbing my cheeks with the sleeve of my dress, he took a handkerchief from his jacket and handed it to me.

Not minding me as I stiffened up in shock, he said with an earnest attitude, “There is, right here.”

“Ah, all right.”

“And here too.”

“I’m sorry. I was making sweets...”

Wiping myself with the neatly folded handkerchief, it almost seemed like I had gone back to being a child. It was the second time today that my cheeks were dyed red.

“Well, what is your matter...?”

“Aah, that’s right. I was nearby and... hum, I heard from Mr. Robert, the one who introduced you to me, that it was your birthday today, so... though it’s presumptuous of me, I was thinking about celebrating it...”

Robert was the law advisor who had been protecting me since my childhood. Now that he had mentioned it, I remembered that he was introduced to me by Robert. The budget wasn’t compatible with the case, so it had been passed over to me.

——“Nearby”?

Finding a strange point in a part of his story, I said timidly, “This whole area... is my land... You had business near here?”

Silence.

“You’re also seeing Mr. Robert even though you’re working with me...?”

He raised a hand my way as if to ask me to wait and averted his face, looking embarrassed. Had I said anything bad?

“I take it back.”

“All right.”

“I lied... I wanted, hum, to spend time with you somehow...”

“Haah...”

Perhaps having become unable to look at me in the eyes, he kept his face turned away and continued speaking to the direction of the day after tomorrow, “Mr. Robert is a teatime friend from a café that I already frequented... He introduced you to me as a favor... And I heard from him the other day that today was your birthday. Also, I did not just happen to come nearby. It’s impossible to come here without a car or carriage. I do not have much money, so I ended up walking the way here. But it was no coincidence; I came here because I had an objective.”

As I asked, “What’s the objective”, he turned over the palm that had been telling me to wait and showed it to me. That “it’s you”.

I was perplexed. This kind of thing hadn’t happened in my life very often. When it did, it was usually people aiming for my fortune, so I vaguely wondered if he was the same as them.

“Want to come in? If it’s just drinking tea together, then...”

In any case, as the head of the Magnolia family, I had to entertain the guest. After this thought worked its way to me, an alarm sounded in my head that he might deem this as an invitation. That wasn’t my intention, so what should I do if he believed it was?

——What’s up with me? I don’t know if I’m happy or scared.

Aah, my heartbeats were so loud. My cheeks were so hot it felt like they were burning.

——Anyway, I have to say something.

“Hum.”

As I hesitated to speak, he shook his head. “Ah, no. I will have to come again tomorrow, so I’m going home. I have already accomplished my objective.”

“Is that so?” I was a tad out of tune. A little – very relieved.

I observed him while he didn’t try to look at me even a bit. His hands were trembling. Even though he gave off an easygoing impression, he was the type of person who couldn’t hide what was inside.

“I really just came here because I wanted to wish you happy birthday. Just before coming, I hesitated a lot on whether to go today or not... I also don’t have... any presents worthy of a lady like you, so I wanted to at least say these words.”

That sentence surprised my already stunned self even more. “At least these words”, he said. Were there any words that could make his goodwill more obvious?

“I’m sorry. I should have at least arranged something for you, right? Really, a broke man like me showing up out of nowhere... I’m sorry...”

“No, I don’t want material things that much... I prefer this feeling of... wanting to celebrate because it’s my birthday... much more...”

The words cut off midway. What happened to me? Right now, pain and joy were squeezing my chest tightly. It was suffocating.

The easily perceivable love of this person in front of me, as well as his kindness, his sincerity and all these other soft and warm things were appearing in the lonely parts of me and causing me to feel dizzy.

“Ann, can you hear me?”

I had to regain my sanity; I would surely be sober again tomorrow. I shouldn’t open my heart so easily now.

“Ann, please, listen.”

Because the world was cruel. Even if I fell in love with him, sad things were bound to happen.

“Okay? If you’re listening...”

It might be a calculated love; he could just be pretending and was actually a horrible person.

No, I had to wonder about that. It was indeed true that he came the way here on foot. After all, his shoes were dirty with mud. There was grass sticking to it as if he gone through an animal trail.

“If you’re listening, grab onto it.”

Aah, Mom. From now on, I would surely keep questioning you over and over during times like these. Asking you questions in my mind. “Mom, is this correct? Is this the right path,” I would ask. Because you were the only one who had given me love without second intentions. So please, give me an answer.

“Believe in yourself, Ann. Don’t be afraid of love.”

I was sure that the vision of my mother had whispered this to me.

I reached out with my hand. I reached out and grabbed the hem of his jacket.

“I’m going to bake sweets now. Today is my birthday, but I don’t have any plans, so if you’d like, why don’t we eat the baked sweets together outside? I don’t need anything. If you’re going to give me something, then I want just a bit of time for us to celebrate my birthday together,” I told him.

“Thanks.” He was not unkind to my wheat flour-covered hand, grasping it while his face went bright red. “That’d be great,” he said three or so times. The phrase “I like sweet foods” was probably said five times.

I... I found it so funny that I laughed.

That day was a special one for me, but to the rest of the world, this was not the case. But I put in a little effort. I tried making it special on my own. From this point onward, I would definitely keep doing that. I would. I was all alone in this manor. But I was the most special girl in the world to a certain person. It was okay to indulge myself at least on my birthday. I thought this once again reading my mother’s letter later.

Ann, congratulations on your nineteenth birthday. I can’t imagine how you’re doing at nineteen years of age. I really wonder how you’re doing. Are you well? Aren’t you going hungry? I wonder if you became a wonderful lady. Aah, I want to see it. I truly wanted to see it. You have no idea how much I love you, do you? You see, Mom loves the nineteen-year-old you. I’ll love you even as you turn a hundred years old. I can’t tell you face-to-face, so I’m properly writing it here. I love you. No matter what anyone says, I love you. You have the right to be loved. My Ann, be free. My Ann, laugh with joy. My Ann, be happy. My Ann. Don’t be afraid of love.

—From Mom

“There’s no such thing as a letter that needn’t be delivered, Milady.”

#violet evergarden #veedit #fyeahvioletevergarden #kyoani #kyoto animation #ann magnolia #clara magnolia #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #novel #my translation #violet evergarden booklet

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cupcakemolotov · 4 years ago

Text

When Blood Calls for Blood

Hmm. This was supposed to be a mafia story for the AU Season that @klaroline-event is putting on, and instead descended into the depths of blood magic and werewolves, and some horror. Your guess is as good as mine as how that happened. Anyway. Hopefully this still works for Crime week. People ARE murdered.

Here you go. You can read it on A03 if you prefer.

Warnings: Blood Magic, Werewolves, Necromancy, death, some gore but not a lot, discussion about sex but no actual smut in this.

The brandy in her glass was excellent, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Klaus had come a long way from the boy next door with skinned knees and paint smeared fingers. That it’d been nearly a decade since she’d seen him hadn’t changed nearly as much as she’d have liked. Same tumbled curls, same dimples, same charm that lingered like a second skin over the sharper, harder parts of his smile. But now, his thinness had filled out into lean strength and he’d grown into the shape of his nose, the curve of his jaw.

Caroline hadn’t expected to like the look of him as much as she did after all this time. Had hoped some distance would dull the want that had once lingered between them. She also hadn’t anticipated the way his gaze could still trace against her skin with the same intensity of a touch, but now with a new, markedly adult male appreciation that hinted at all sorts of fun things. Dangerous things, thoughts she’d pushed away much easier with the naivete of a teenager than she was finding herself able to do as a grown woman.

Klaus had never been easy to ignore.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” She asked once he’d leaned a hip against the desk next to him when she’d chosen not to sit. She didn’t know this man as well as she once had and she wasn’t prepared to be that vulnerable. Not yet. “We both know what you sent Elijah to tell me you wanted. I want to know why you think I should go along with it.”

A hint of a smile curved his lips. There was a strange sort of affection in his gaze which surprised her, in this childhood home of his, this house of horrors that had birthed monsters. She wished Enzo was there, to tell them if there were ghosts. If the rotting bones of Mikael beneath their feet still suffered.

“I’ve missed your directness, love. Most people are too afraid of me to try it.” His lashes lowered for a heartbeat, and his voice deepened. “And far too terrified to offer such blatant disapproval.”

Caroline gave him an unconcerned look. “I agreed to this meeting because we were once friends. Not because I bought into the spiel that Elijah was selling. I walked away from this kind of life, and I had very good reasons to do so. You know that.”

A flash of something wolf-yellow glimmered faintly at the edges of his gaze, but she didn’t flinch. Klaus was dangerous. So very, very dangerous. Here, in Mystic Falls where they’d both spent their childhoods, it was almost possible to forget the lessons Chicago and New York had already learned. But Caroline had learned to deal with Klaus and his caustic mix of power and temper years earlier. A little of the wolf wasn’t enough to warn her off.

Though it did intrigue her. Before, his control had been something held together by tenterhooks, his rage palpable. She had wondered if he’d buried it deep in his bones, left it to fester in muscle and marrow, but that glimmer told her he’d made a different choice.

She was glad.

“Blood calls to blood, love.” There was something in his voice, a note that was sharp and apologetic both. “And you are Bill Forbes daughter.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “I’m going to need more brandy if that's the angle you're taking. Thankfully, he only provided half my genetics, and none of my looks.”

The hard line of his shoulders eased, her words answering some unspoken question. “I know.”

Her expression sharpened. She did not like that he was able to read her so well. “If you’re not going to get to the point, I will leave.”

His laugh was soft, and unexpected. And it did nothing to lessen her mad. Reaching up, he briefly rubbed his neck and when his gaze returned to hers. The blue was gone, awash with gold and wolf. Inexplicably, her own tension gave, if just a little. She might no longer know the man, but she understood the wolf.

“Elijah says you are well informed of my ongoings.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s hard. A werewolf with the bad taste to be born to a witch, and who the poor manners of eating other witches is not, exactly, an unknown creature in the local gossip. Mystic Falls does so love it’s little horrors. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out where you’re going or where you’ve been.”

His dimples creased his cheeks. “That’s true. And yet, here you are.”

The implied threat was said teasingly. Caroline deliberately took a sip of her brandy. “If your wolf had wanted me dead, it would have made the attempt that when I was thirteen and tossed you three pine trees to save Enzo. If the man had wanted me dead, Elijah would never have sworn a binding saying this meeting was done in truce.” Her smile was sharp. “At least not knowingly. My magic is not kind when it comes to broken vows, and he hates me.”

His gaze narrowed at the blunt reminder, but his voice held no hint of anger. Just a hunting triumph. “I found Rebekah.”

And everything snapped into place. Setting her glass down, she stared at him. “And Elijah couldn't have led with that?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t…” Caroline stared at him for a long moment before tossing back her drink and moving towards one of the chairs. Ten years. It’d been ten years, and she understood everything those words meant. “Fine. I’ll bite. What is going on?”

To her surprise, he chose the chair next to her. His gaze holding hers, he deliberately tipped his knee lightly against her own. “Rebekah is in New Orleans.”

Her brows furrowed and her words were honest as she tried to ignore the feel of him against her. That sparking challenge in his eyes. “But you looked there years ago.”

That slow, thoughtful smile curled on his face again and she wished she hadn’t finished the brandy. “You have been tracking me.”

Caroline sighed and for the first time, looked away. She did not want to speak of the need to know he was still alive, to trust that he’d find some kind of reason after the death of his step-father. The wolf could have easily poisoned the man with its hate as the man could have destroyed the wolf with its rage.

“My father… the things he did.” Her words died and she shrugged. “I miss her too.”

They were survivors, her and Klaus. Enzo and Rebekah, though they were missing. Witchborn and powerful, they were the last remnants of bloodlines and blood feuds that should have never existed. Klaus, with his wolf and his rage. Enzo, with his affinity for the dead and his wicked sense of humor. Rebekah, the living embodiment of her mother’s hopes and wishes, but without the same darkness. And she? She was her father’s daughter, for all the Liz Forbes had done her best to temper it.

“Then you’ll help me.”

And that blatant satisfaction, the roughness of his wolf in his voice warned her that he thought he had won. She let her gaze return Klaus’ face, and the force of temper clashed against his. She did not like being boxed in. He needed to remember that. “Will I? What I owed you was a blood debt and that was paid in full. What my family did to yours was terrible, but what Esther did to my mother was also terrible. There are no debts between us, not anymore.”

Enzo might argue that point, but her wiley best friend had been missing nearly as long as Rebekah.

“You’ll help me,” Klaus repeated, unbothered by her irritation. Her temper, the surge of power that came with it, had always bothered him as little as his wolf had unnerved her. “And in turn, I will help you.”

“And what,” Caroline drawled, “do I need your help with? I’m perfectly capable of burying bodies on my own these days.” She wiggled her manicured fingers. “I don’t even have to break a nail to do it.”

That flicker of affection again, tempered by determination. He reached for an envelope that sat on the edge of his desk and handed it to her. “I’d have helped you regardless, but this might make things more comfortable between us.”

She snorted even as she opened the envelope to pull out a single sheet. “Things have never been particularly comfortable between us at all.”

Caroline ignored the deeply satisfied noise he made and looked at the picture. Enzo’s face, battered, bruised, stared up at her and she went motionless at the tangle of anger and fear that swept through her. “How…”

She’d looked.

“It took finding Rebekah.” A bitterness in his voice she understood. “And once I did, I knew where to look. The scattered pieces of our past are not easy things, love.”

Mute with rage, she glanced back at him.

“When the Witch Council attempted to end the feud between our families, they were not prepared for the realities of what that would mean.” His teeth gleamed behind his lips. “They were ill prepared for our families' hate, I imagine our cooperation never occurred to them.”

Caroline snorted. They should have been prepared for all of it. Feuding witches were no small thing. Though in her more charitable moments, she allowed that some things just could not have been foreseen. Not the fallout from Ester’s affair, not Bill’s jealousy, not Mikael’s malice.

Rebekah should have been safe. They should have all been safe. None of them had been.

“They should have done better.”

His smile held teeth. “Yes.”

It had been her and Enzo, who had held Mikael with their magic while Klaus had shifted to wolf to rip his step-father apart. Enzo, who had commanded the dead man to dig his own grave in the study Mikael had been so fond of. Later, Klaus had opened a bottle of expensive bourbon and they had gotten drunk listening to the sound of a shovel moving dirt.

It had taken hours to repair the foundation with magic.

Mystic Fall was full of so many nightmares.

Her gaze returned to the picture in her hands. And something turned cold and brittle in her chest. “That is the symbol of St. Augustine.”

“Yes.”

She stood then and paced toward the window. When she spoke, her words trembled with magic. Behind her, the desk shuddered. She hadn’t been this close to losing her temper since the day she walked into her home to find it smelling of blood and her mother’s death. Had found what she had been meant to see.

“The Augustine Society belongs to the Witch Council.” Her fists clenched. “And have Enzo.”

She knew the Augustine Society. The horrors the Witch Council offered them. She knew, because her father had also belonged to that society before blood madness had taken him. And they had possibly the greatest necromancer of her generation, trapped.

Fingertips brushed lightly down the bare nap of her neck. The touch was possessive, careful. An old trick, to anchor her. It made it no less personal. “So it is.”

Caroline closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard him move. “What did my father do, that you cannot claim your sister?”

“It’s a blood bind. I cannot break it.”

“No,” she murmured, letting the soft touches of his fingertips focus her. “You wouldn’t be able too.”

“But you can.” His words were lethal in their softness, coaxing in their delivery. “You're more powerful.”

“Flattery,” she said. Then she sighed. “But you’re not wrong. Still, the witches of New Orleans will never allow me into their city.”

They’d never allow Liz Forbes' daughter in their heart of power. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. So strange, for a city to fear her mother’s blood.

Strange, but not unwise.

“I didn’t plan on asking permission.”

She turned to face him then, letting the window at her spine hold her weight and studied his face. Such arrogance, but not unwarranted. A full coven might face the nightmare he gave shape too with his bones, but perhaps not. Klaus had cut quite a swath through the witch families in the US.

His mother’s perfect monster.

“A blood bind will not be easy to break, not after so many years since it was cast.” She considered what it meant, how far gone her father had been in his madness. “I will likely need a sacrifice, and that is a magic I have sworn not to use lightly.”

“You won’t fall to the same madness.” The assurance in his voice was so, so arrogant. “I will not allow it.”

Caroline gave a bark of laughter. “You cannot know that, cannot expect to dictate such a thing.”

“But I can,” he disagreed. “I’ve seen your magic, Caroline. I’ve witnessed the price of it, the horror of it, and justice of it. Esther’s death was not easy. I know what you are.”

“Ester deserved more,” she said. “But we work with what we have. And I am no longer, sixteen, Klaus. What anchored me as a teenager will not work for the adult.”

Then it’d had been enough to cling to his wolf. To bury her face and hands in the thick pelt of his fur while she rode out the drowning horror, the unrelenting ecstasy of her magic, to let the sensation of fur on skin be the distraction from the siren call of endless power. The blood she wore on her skin.

She’d always liked his wolf.

Blood magic was dangerous. And witches who practiced it always, always lost themselves. Caroline’s father had been no exception. She would likely not be either. Thankfully, she wasn’t just her father’s daughter.

“And what,” Klaus asked lightly, eyes deepening to the blue of the man, something as dark as the working of her magic coloring his voice. “Do you need?”

Her nails dug into her palms and she lifted her chin. “What are you offering?”

Klaus’ head lowered until his nose nearly brushed hers, his mouth tantalizing close to hers. “Anything you want.”

Her teeth sank briefly into her lip and she sighed. “We both know how my father chose to feed his need and how well that worked for him.”

Satisfaction and a want so blatant and greedy on his face, she struggled to suck in her next breath. “Steven knew what he was doing when he agreed to join your father’s bed. He was aware of the risks. So am I.”

Her voice shook only a little when she spoke. “Rebekah’s temper is no small thing, Klaus. If she wakes up to me fucking her brother, I don’t think she’s going to be pleased.”

His hand lifted to curve along her jaw, thumb brushing tantalizing across her lips. “Elijah can secure Bekah, once she is free.”

And Elijah would just love that. “So you are planning on telling him you found her.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Both he and Kol will be needed for this. Even if only a mirage, we must show the world where our loyalties lie.”

Caroline winced. “They still haven’t forgiven you for not kiling me, then.”

When Elijah had appeared at her home to request her presence for this meeting, she’d almost hoped.

“As they are not strong enough to oppose me, their opinions of your magic do not matter.” His jaw tightened. “From either side of your family.”

“Klaus…” She caught his hand. “They are not wrong. Blood magic is an abomination, not counting what my mother left me with her death. Killing me would likely make the world a better place.”

His eyes flared with his wolf, and his words were near violent with intensity. “I disagree. Am I too, not an abomination? You protested quite viciously when my mother attempted to do just that.”

His voice sounded the same as it always had, when he spoke of her murdering his mother. Delighted satisfaction with a hint of growl.

Caroline rolled her lip tightly between her teeth. This was what her mother had never understood. What Esther had miscalculated. This tugging in her chest, as she thought about a world without Klaus. The way he dared her with his eyes and his worlds to repeat herself, to suggest he would allow the world to exist without her. The thing that had left her walking away from him, uncertain what lengths she could allow herself to go to preserve it.

The boy who had painted her flowers and the man who understood the depth of what she could become, what she feared.

But he’d found Rebekah. Enzo.

“You understand that if I agree to this, it won’t end with rescuing Rebekah and Enzo,” she said slowly. Likely wouldn’t end with her willing to walk away from him a second time, and the bloody future that promised. “I’m not that forgiving. If the Augustine Society was part of this, if they supported my father? Enzo will want them dead and so will I.”

“Oh, sweetheart, as if I’d object.” His mouth curved. “But why stop there? Not when we both know the Witch Council had to be involved.”

So much destruction. So much blood. Carefully, she reached up with her free hand and traced the shape of his mouth while he went carefully motionless. “It would be helpful, if the sacrifice had a tie to Bekah.”

His lips pursed against her fingers for a moment before he moved just enough to respond. “The Salvatore’s are in New Orleans.”

And that terrible anger, that thirst she’d managed to choke into behaving for ten years unfurled in her chest. “What a coincidence.”

And Klaus, whose monster knew her own, just smiled. “Isn’t it just?”

“How are you planning on explaining my presence in New Orleans?”

Mischief, sudden and startling, crossed his face. “The witches can hardly object to my bringing a date to Mardi Grais. The same as I have done for the past four years, in fact.”

Caroline blinked, and tried not to think about the twist of jealousy in her gut. “I am not pretending to be in a relationship with you.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” His eyes laughed at her but his words were serious. “Shouldn’t you take a man to dinner before post ritual sex?”

She glowered at him, just to be contrary. “No.”

He shrugged, unperturbed.“We’re still sharing a room.”

She choked on a sudden laugh, at how easy and playful he made this. As they weren’t courting madness and the wrath of the council as they freed their family. As if everything was just a matter of them going out and conquering their enemies with his teeth and their magic.

Simple, really.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Caroline questioned. “This… this will change everything.”

Klaus lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers and smiled, dimples bracketing a smile made of sin and blood lust that struck her in her chest. The smile of a predator well satisfied.

“Yes, I think it will.”

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction

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kanri-tea · 4 years ago

Text

Demon Slayer! AU (Part 1 - The Beginning)

Ramuda and Jakurai are tossed into a strange new world, but at least they have each other. Things are peaceful at first, but not all happiness lasts.

~~~

“I’m heading out!”

“Be careful,” Ramuda hears Jakurai call out from the depths of the clinic, no doubt busy with another patient. The pattering of footsteps could be heard as children raced around the wooden hut, snow crunching under their feet.

“Are you going to the village today?”

“Ehh? I want to go too!”

Ramuda laughed as the Hanako and Takeo whined. It was almost New Years, so going down and selling charcoal to earn some more money so that everyone could eat to their heart’s content wasn’t a bad idea. Even though Jakurai received many donations throughout the year, even his saintly attitude and charity to every ill and injured person couldn’t keep everyone fed.

“No, none of you can walk as fast as Ramuda. He can’t pull the cart today, so you can’t rest while he gives you a ride,” Suzumi, another live-in patient at the clinic, sighs. The man was still lecturing Hanako and Takeo when Ramuda leaves, waving his goodbyes, but well, that was old man Suzumi for you.

As Ramuda walked down the snowy mountain, his mind drifted. How many years has it been? Five years? Wow, time really has flown bye, he thinks. And it’s probably been even longer for Jakurai. It’s strange, to be stuck in the past with only Jakurai.

Ramuda hummed to himself. Maybe he should buy some fresh eggs – along with mochi of course – while he was in the village! After all, Jakurai always did like having eggs over rice with natto.

They’re facing another bitter and angry person with an illegal microphone. They’re always bitter and angry though, bitter at the changes in the world, angry at their own powerlessness. They’re one of many.

Ichiro, Samatoki, Ramuda, and Jakurai are together, coincidentally, when the man attacks them. They’re not particularly concerned, not at first. They’re known as the top hypnosis mic users for a reason. The Chuuoku is invested in them for a reason.

That quickly changes though when Ichiro disintegrates. And disintegrates he does, starting from his feet and slowly moving up until he’s just… gone. None of them know what’s going on, and by the time they realize what’s happening, Samatoki is already half-gone and Ramuda and Jakurai have already begun to disappear, grain-by-grain.

The perpetrator is laughing now, manically talking about his revenge plans about the Chuuoku, but none of them are listening. They’re frozen, confused and, while they might deny it, terrified.

The last thing they think, before they’re completely gone is: I don’t want to die.

“Well, if it isn’t Ramuda-chan!”

“You really came down on such a cold day? Good work, but you’ll catch a cold, and I’m sure the doctor won’t like that.”

“Oooi! I want to buy some charcoal!”

“Ah, Ramuda! Thanks for repairing my sliding door the other time.”

Ramuda took a deep breath, taking in the scents of the villagers. They’re as busy and energetic as usual, he thinks fondly. Maybe it’s stupid of him, but after so many years in the past and out of the Chuuoku’s control and in better health than he’d ever been, Ramuda couldn’t help but love listening and smelling how people lived and moved… Nah, it was probably the old man rubbing off of him. Eew, Jakurai germs.

“Aaahhh! Ramuda, I’m glad you’re here,” Ramuda turns towards the screaming man. Oof, looks like he pissed off the missus again.

“Can you tell who broke these dishes?! Please help me!”

As the man shoved the broken ceramic towards his face, Ramuda leaned forward to take a whiff. Cat, he thinks, and says as much.

By the time he finishes selling the charcoal, it was beginning to turn dark.

Jakurai’s going to fret again, Ramuda frowns as he makes his way back up the mountain.

“Hey Ramuda! Are you returning up the mountain? At this time? You can’t, it’s dangerous.”

“Huh? I’ll be fine, my nose can smell anything.”

“I’ll let you stay the night, so come. Turn back.”

“But –“

“Enough of that! Come here.”

“Ehh? Mister, what’s got you so scared,” Ramuda sighs, heading over to the hut. Geez, if it weren’t for the fact that Jakurai asked him to play nice with the villagers, he would’ve left Saburo in the dust ages ago.

“Demons will appear,” Saburo replies, with utmost seriousness. Ramuda could practically feel his eyes roll back into the sockets of his eyes. Ugh, every time he thought he was getting used to this place, someone’s always there to remind him that this was the early1900s and people were stupid. Seriously, demons of all things?

As Ramuda settled down for the night, half-heartedly listening to the man’s ramblings about demons, he wondered if the man was lonely. Having lived alone since his family died, Saburo must be pretty lonely. Maybe, Ramuda thinks before drifting off to sleep, he should bring some of the kids to visit next time. He’s sure Hanako and Takeo especially would love the opportunity to meet new people…

Everything is dark… It’s so cold…

He’s drifting, drifting slowly in an abyss of darkness.

Where am I?

What happened?

Ramuda couldn’t remember. Something about an illegal mic, he thinks.

He’s waking up, slowly, and when he does, there’s a familiar scent. Who is it?

“Ah. Good, you’re finally awake,” he hears. The voice is deep, yet gentle and soft, and oh so familiar.

Ramuda turns his head to the side, and then he r e m e m b e r s.

“Jakurai,” he tries to snarl, but his voice is hoarse. It comes out much higher pitched than he’d ever been able to pretend. What the hell?

“Amemura-kun,” the old man greets him, but Jakurai looks much, much younger than Ramuda had ever seen. There aren’t any wrinkles or signs of exhaustion and age that had clung onto Jakurai like a parasite.

“I found you drifting down a river,” the doctor explains quietly, “and I took you back here, to my clinic.”

“Tch,” Ramuda clicks his tongue, “who’d want you of all people to rescue me. Why d’ya have a clinic? Thought you worked at a hospital, or did’ya decide that you’re too good for them?”

Jakurai stills, head tilted, eyes scrutinizing Ramuda. He hates how it feels, the way Jakurai’s gaze seems to burn into him.

“… I see. I suppose you must’ve recently woken up,” Jakurai muses, “you should go back to sleep for now. Rest and recover.”

“Oi, you can’t just say that and not tell me what the hell’s going on!”

“Are you sure you want to know now?”

Ramuda gulped. This felt… serious? He nodded. His vision was starting to darken, sleep trying to pull him into its sweet embrace, but he wanted to know what the hell was going on first, especially with the old man.

“… The illegal microphone, I fear, has tossed us into the past. The Taisho era to be exact,” Jakurai informs him, “I don’t know what happened to Ichiro and Samatoki, but before I found you, I had assumed I was the only one here.”

Ramuda’s vision goes black, sleep pulling him under.

“No. Nononono –“

It’s Suzumi’s body that he sees first, blood soaking the white snow. Underneath the man is one of the kids – Tadashi, Ramuda thinks – and their bodies are cold to the touch and lifeless.

“What – How did this –“

It doesn’t take long for him to see the bloody and broken screen doors of the clinic and the many lifeless and bloody bodies littered on the ground.

Ramuda wanted to scream. What the hell? Suppressing the urge to vomit, he searched through the clinic, hoping to find signs of life.

Hanako, Takeo, Shigeru, Yamato, Sen, Tohru, Sora… The list just went on and on, all the various patients who had come to the clinic in hopes of being healed or saved were dead. The many people that Ramuda had come to love and care about in place of his posse were d e a d.

Jakurai, Ramuda finds though, is still warm. He’s covered in blood just like everyone else, but his breathing was shallow. If… maybe if Ramuda could move fast enough, Jakurai could be saved. Sure, the doctor in the village wasn’t as good as a doctor as Jakurai, but…

Ramuda would save him. He refused to let the stupid old man die too.

He moved quickly to travel back down the mountain, the cold chilling him to the bone and Jakurai’s body acting as a dead weight on his back.

How could such a thing happen? A bear? A bear that didn’t hibernate in the winter?

Fuck, Ramuda thinks, breathing hurts. The winter air was freezing his lung, but he had to move faster. He had to continue moving forward.

I won’t let you die, he thinks furiously, I’ll definitely save you, Jakurai.

He’s… tired. It’s nothing unusual, not particularly, but there’s something about this exhaustion that feels different to Jakurai this time though.

Hunger. There’s an aching sense of hunger in stomach, but why?

The demon! Oh… oh. They were all dead, weren’t they, Jakurai mourned internally. Once again, he was too powerless to protect anyone.

“ – hold it off! I – in you!”

Someone was speaking, but Jakurai couldn’t tell who or what was being said. Why was everything so muddy?

As if the world was trying to convey a message, Jakurai felt himself being flung back, slamming into a tree. He’s being pinned down again, but by who? And why? There’s screaming too, but Jakurai couldn’t make out anything. Why... Why were his senses so dulled? Where was Ramuda? Was he safe?

Bam!

Jakurai’s vision snapped back into focus, just in time to watch as this strange man was pinning him down slam the handle of the katana (what the hell, a small part of his mind whispers, how the fuck does this kid have a katana) onto Ramuda’s back.

As Ramuda’s axe swung towards the man, Jakurai quickly spun into action, breaking free of the man’s hold, and making a grab for the fallen pink-haired boy.

Crouching in defensive position in front of Ramuda, Jakurai glared. He might not know what was happening, but he knew enough that this man could be a danger to himself, and more importantly, to Ramuda.

“I will not let you hurt him,” he tells him, voice hoarse and with a hint of growling for some odd reason.

He hears Ramuda cough, “Finally awake, you stupid old man? Took you long enough.”

Jakurai deigned not to respond, keeping the man within his vision. Ramuda had fallen unconscious, but how did he know this? Everything felt so much clearer and sharper now, his ears picking up even the smallest of footsteps of the critters in the forest to even Ramuda’s heartbeat.

“You,” Jakurai focused back on to the strange man, “Are you… protecting him?”

He doesn’t respond. Was this a trick? Of course he was protecting him. The man in front of him scrutinized them for a couple more seconds, neither party moving a muscle.

“I… I’m going to take a chance with you,” the man slowly says, “but if attack… I won’t hesitate to decapitate you.”

It took a couple seconds of silence, but as soon as Jakurai nodded back, the man turned around, facing a patch of bamboo. With movement faster than his eyes could follow, the man cut the bamboo into pieces.

“Here,” he motioned towards Jakurai. “Bite on this bamboo. It’ll be better than biting the insides of your mouth.”

At this, Jakurai finally noticed that he’d been biting hard enough to taste blood. That was not good. The gnawing hunger was starting to get stronger and stronger, but he now knew better than to fall prey to it. It was a hunger for the flesh of humans, a hunger that only demons had.

Taking the bamboo, Jakurai ripped a piece off his haori and laced it through the sides before securing it around his head and mouth. The bamboo would eventually start biting into his gums, Jakurai realized, but this would do for now. At least until Jakurai had time to meditate and get himself back under control.

“You must never bite anyone. You must never eat a human. If you do, I will cut you down. Do you understand?”

Jakurai pulled out of his thought. Reaching for the bamboo, he moved it aside to answer the man.

“Rest assured,” Jakurai quietly tells him, “My purpose is to serve humanity.”

The man looks startled at the answer, but Jakurai stays firm, light blue eyes never wavering from the man’s darker blue ones.

“My name is Tomioka Giyuu,” the newly named Tomioka tells him, “And when that boy wakes up, tell him to visit the elder named Urokodaki Sakonji living at the foot of the misty mountain. Tell him that I sent you.”

With that, Tomioka began to retreat, leaving Jakurai and the still unconscious Ramuda behind.

“Also, don’t go out in the sun,” Tomioka tells him as one last goodbye before disappearing from sight.

Jakurai let himself relax once the man was out of sight. God, what a mess. Everyone was dead now… And he was a demon? It seems that his original theory of being in the past might not be as accurate as he’d first thought…

But for now, it was time to bury the bodies. If this Urokodaki could help them, could inform them more about this strange world, then Jakurai would go. Ramuda will not be hurt, not by Jakurai, not by whatever dangers this world posed.

Jakurai refused to let another person die, not if he could save them.

Kind, Giyuu thinks to himself as he returns to report to Oyakata-sama. The purple-haired demon's eyes were kinder than any human he'd ever encounter, except for maybe Oyakata-sama. There was an air of kindness and charisma that the demon had that Giyuu had encountered only once before in his life.

It's strange, but Giyuu couldn't help but look forward to seeing what the duo would do. A demon who refused to eat people and a human who swore that he would turn the demon back into a human. Two impossibilities, yet here they were.

Sending them to his teacher was probably for the best. Urokodaki would train the boy to fight demons. The future, Giyuu thinks, might be pretty interesting.

#hypnosis mic #jinguji jakurai #jakurai jinguji #amemura ramuda #demon slayer! au #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka giyuu

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faustonastring · 5 years ago

Note

Could I get headcanons for the main six with mc who is obsessed with stuffed animals?

Thanks for requesting I hope you like it :)

Request are open! :))

Main six with an mc who is obsessed with stuffed animals

Asra

He thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world

Every time he travels away from you, he always brings you one back that represents where he traveled (a modern day example would be a teddy bear with a sombrero to represent Mexico, (just so you get the picture)) he also gets to them as presents for birthdays and holidays anniversaries

In a modern au, you both more or likely have a beanie baby collection hiding somewhere in the shop, you both probably brought another beanie baby snail so you could recreate the “snesbian”(snail lesbian) wedding you saw on tiktok

Early in you’re relationship (pre-upright) before he can take you on trips with him he finds it really comforting to know that you have a cuddle buddy or two to keep you company while he’s away, but after you’ve been together for a while (post-upright) don’t be surprised when you wake up and all your stuffed animals are on the floor (that is if you sleep with them of course!)

I also really like the idea of asra trying to make you a stuffed animal for your birthday or anniversary, or any other celerbration (something a like his Faust trinket you can get from the wheel, just a little more improved, )

Apologies in advance for the angst BUT If you’ve had this obsession pre-memory lost, when you’re,,,, y’know (trying to keep this as spoiler free as I can for some of the new guys!) he clutches on to it every night while he’s trying to sleep, crying out you’re name, (and probably uses it in his studies to try to get you back,) and post-y’know, he brings it with him during all his trips because of how much he hates being away from you, and if you’ve grown fond of that one, he’ll bring another one you like a lot, he feels bad but he can’t help it, he just misses you so much

Also some of you are gonna hate me for this but piggy backing off of that angst I just wrote, imagine Julian and asra in the shop, doing...their....studies..(if you know you know) and Julian just sees the stuffed animal in the bed and asks why asra has it (and being himself try’s to make a joke about asra needing to sleep with a stuffed animal, when he can just sleep with him instead-) and asra just kicks him out, and they never talk about it again.

Nadia

She’s on it. She’ll ask you a million questions, “what kind do you like, do you need to sleep with any, do you want a custom one, or a spefic kind?”

Her room is so cluttered with stuffed animals by the end of the week, that she makes you pick out you’re favorite one (which quickly turns into ten or twenty) and the rest go to their own separate room in the palace, where they’re put on display, and easily accessible for you to switch out with any of the ones In you’re too, that you’re bored with

In a modern au I feel like Nadia would also be on bored for collecting beanie babies, but unlike asra who’s only in it for the snesbian wedding she wants all of the rare ones doesn’t matter how much they cost, she has them, it’s not even about you at this point, when Nadia gets a kick you just gotta let her ride it out.

I think it’s canon (or atleast close to canon) that Nadia loves to design clothes, I mean we all know she loves to tinker, but I think she’ll find it really relaxing destining new stuffed animals with you and clothes for some of the ones you already have if you’d want (and yes. She makes matching ones for you and you’re favorites)

If you do sleep with them, Nadia might find it a little hard to sleep with all the clutter around the bed so she’ll thoss the ones your not cuddling off the bed (or if she’s having a real sleepless night, she’ll throw them across the room) but nonetheless if you’re happy she’s happy, she’ll never get agitated at you for having your own interest (despite tripping over like three of them while trying to start her day)

Also I feel like atleast one of Nadias sisters had that stuffed animal phase as a kid, if you know baby....then you know so I feel like it’s really refreshing for her to be able to keep stuffed animals around without having to hear someone scream and whine because they couldn’t get the one they wanted

Julian

The day after you tell him he brings you a doctor teddy bear, wearing a hand-sewn eye patch witch Portia more or likely helped him make (note that I said helped he wanted to try to make it on his own... but surgical stitches are a lot diffrent from things such as cross stitches,,,, and the fabric is just a lot more flimsy then human flesh)

He likes to bring you ‘fun’ ones as he calls them, teddy bears dressed as pirates, doctors, flappers, any kind that matches you’re faveroite animal, pigs decked out in fancy clothes (the vesuvia verson of Miss piggy) espically if he knows you like them, he would do anything to see you laugh and smile, especially if it’s from one of his gifts, it makes his heart jump

In a modern au, you could spend your quality time making fun of the ridiculous beanie baby prices, but for the love of god please don’t say you find a beanie baby who’s highest bidding price is over one hundred dollars cute, because HE WILL bid on it and the price DOESNT MATTER (also- self indulgent but If you have a furby espically the older ones, it will freak Julian the hell out, and he will quickly turn it so it’s not looking at him every time he enters a room)

Every time you travel together he checks all the touristy gift shops for a stuffed animal you like, and will happily buy you any type you like, and it doesn’t matter how big it is. He WILL make it fit in his suit case, even if it means he has to leave a couple pairs of shoes behind.....

If you sleep with any of you’re stuffed animals he doesn’t mind, I mean sure he ends up laying on a couple of them, and the do end up getting tangled in his limbs, but he finds it cute and is willing to make a sacrifice, and if he were to come in late from working overtime and caught you sleeping cuddling the doctor teddy bear he gave you....with the eyepatch that he helped make....he wouldn’t want to disturb you... so he pulls up a chair and watches you sleep in the least creepy way possible

If you two are ever trying to do the do and your stuffed animal is In the room... or even better facing towards the bed... I think it would make Julian the slightest bit uncomfortable but would just laugh it off and say something along the lines of “I didn’t know we had and audience” or “looks like we have a guest” which would be terrifying if he were to say that mid-ya know

Portia

You two vibe so hard

Out of everyone I feel like she is definitely the most enthusiastic and chill about having stuffed animals in her cottage, and I mean sure they’re everywhere and she’s tripped on atleast six of them... but as long as pepi doesn’t get too any of them( again) you’re fine

I like to imagine she has something (other than Julian) that survived the ship wreck with her, wether that be a blanket or a stuffed animal (for the sake of this head canon it’s a stuffed animal) that she holds very close to her yes this is very unlikely given, well all the factors but she deserves something, and if your really against that idea, a little stuffed animal Julian gave her when she was a kid before he left

I can’t keep headcanoning that every one has a thing for beanie babies in a modern au, even though she has a snesbian wedding in her garden with a snesbian officiant which she photographs and gets tiktok famous off of.... she’ll be more into anything Sanrio related, like don’t leave this girl alone in round one because she’s already spent 150 trying to win the rilakkuma stuffed animal that’s riiiiight over the edge (after many many try’s, she does win it, and gives it to you)

She is the type to sew, or crochet, or even knit you stuffed animals, and those are usually the ones she ends up giving you, if not? They definitely were handmade from somewhere, probably a small shop or from an old lady selling them at the heart district

If you sleep with stuffed animals....well good news because so does she! Throughout the night not only are you to fighting for the blanket (if it’s during winter) but now you’re fighting over the stuffed animals, and every night as soon as one of you says you’re going to bed, it’s a race to see who can get to bed first and hog all the stuffed animals, (which may lead to a pillow fight if you’re lucky)

One time pepi tore up one of you’re faveroite stuffed animals and Portia felt so bad about it that she not only made pepi her own toys to play with, but sewed up your toes up one, and if it was beyond repair, she would make you an identical one

(Also Portia is the type to spend 100 dollars at a carnival trying to knock the milk bottles down so she can win her s/o a cheap stuffed dog that pepi is gonna claw into anyway...but it’s the thought that counts :’) )

Muriel

Does. Not. Understand. But hey! He’s trying~! A+ for effort right?

He wants to make it clear that it’s NOTHING to do with you, he finds it ADORBALE! He really really does and he’s trying hard to express that but depending where you are in your relationship with him....makes a little bit of a difference, so for the sake of the headcanon muriels headcanon is gonna be soon after his upright endeding so expect some assumptions about his character but I do know that people just don’t change over night so one things for sure....he still doses to fully understands soft nice things

I think Muriel likes to hear you talk, like sure he prefers the quiet, but out of everyone in the world, your the only person he doesn’t mind listening to (how sweet! ) so he probably asks you a lot of questions, but not necessarily like Julian, more questions that ask why you like them, because he wants to like them too, and you want him to like them too, but you do still have some work ahead of you

In a modern au.....build a bear dates @lisa-frank-cave did a headcanon on it a while back that I REALLY liked, it is a little buried so if you’re having trouble finding it lmk and I can reblog it for you, but atleast visits their page and look for it because their stuff is super good! :) so for sure go check out their head canon for it if you want something more in depth but to just elaborate my thoughts on it, it’s just something the two of you could do together (and I feel like Muriel loves spending time with you no matter what activity it is) I also feel like he’d like being able to make something with you, which works out great if you can’t whittle to save you’re life,,,and I dunno,,,it just makes me soft,,,,

I don’t like the head canon that Muriel has bug clumsy hands, he can whittle for gods sake! And used to make masquerade masks for asra to sell pre-plague times, (and made his own in every route but his own) so I feel like Muriel would atleast attempt ONCE to sew or crochet you a stuffed animal, it’s a little tragedy looking, and over time it starts to fall apart at the seams, but he made it for you, and seeing you love it so much let’s him know all his hard work payed off, and he’ll make you another one or two

He doesn’t mind if you sleep with stuffed animals, but he apologizes in advance if they get crushed (the bed is barley big enough for the both of you) and gets a little jealous if you’re cuddling you’re stuffed animal instead of him, he won’t say anything but he’ll for sure get pouty about, and as cute as he is when he’s pouty make sure you don’t cuddle you’re stuffed animals more than him, because if you do it will start to get to him if you know what I mean

Also refuses to have sex if stuffed animals are on the bed or facing the bed, if they’re on the bed, he’ll throw them off, facing the bed, he’ll turn them around, he just doesn’t like the idea of being watching while being intimate with you

Lucio

If I’m being honest will make fun of you a tiny bit at first (he’ll stop he he strikes a nerve) but soon finds the appeal

Mama morga didn’t let him have stuffed animals growing up, for a while there she didn’t even want him sleeping with a blanket, so he’s alllll over this, but yeah you’re stuffed animals are cute, but he wants a spefic type of stuffed animals.... next thing you know Lucio says he got some stuffed animals for you two to share, and it’s just about 30 diffrent variations of goats. But hey! Atleast he offered to share!

In a modern au I feel like lucio would be overly enthusiastic to go to build a bear that he nearly crushes a kid with his knock off red bottoms trying to get in there, dragging you behind him, then impatiently rushes the whole process not making too enjoyable for you (depending on who you are of course) but lucio just seems to be having fun! (Also goes on a Saturday afternoon and they are like four kids celebrating their birthday and a line that goes out the door, unlike Muriel who goes early Sunday morning or Tuesday night to beat the crowds)

He personally likes anything goat related, but also likes custom made ones made with red velvet and and gold stitching, and will happily buy you or get any kind you want customed made, and on you’re birthday? When you wake up in the morning the room is covered with all diffrent typed of stuffed animals, and lucio is beaming proudly in the middle of it

If you sleep with them then no problem! Lucio would too! But if he catches you cuddling a certain stuffed animal more than him then it might just....disappear for a while...but if he sees you upset or worried that you can’t find it, don’t worry! It will reappear again.... or something very similar to it.....

One time Mercedes and Melchior tore up one of you’re favorite stuffed animals (again) so lucio had them kicked out of his bedroom...or so he said, what really happened is while he was waiting for your replacement to come in, he wanted to act all tuff and kick Mercedes and Melchior our to assert his dominance, but secretly still played with them and let them back in you’re room when you weren’t around. You know. But you pretend that you don’t

Thanks for reading if you would like something more spefic welll.....

My request are open! :)

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deckof-dragons · 4 years ago

Note

bugsnax idea: while buddy, filbo, and egg are climbing the mountain after the point of no return, beff and cromdo are grudgingly cooperating on a salvaging run to some wrecks that got shifted by the earthquake. theyre looking for parts to fix buddys airship. they also bring back some other supplies. buddy is very happy about this (it doesn't matter that it was in a sunken ship for a year, freeze dried scrambled eggs is WAY more of a meal than sauce - plus the medical supplies are useful)

I'm not 100% sure this ask was intended as a request but I treated it as such anyway because I wanted to. I mostly wanted to try writing from Beffica's POV because I love her but also hate her for being mean to Filbo. And this was a good way to do that, especially since I like her Cromdo's dislike for one another. Also, I suppose this is also a good way to establish that I'm open to requests. I do wish you had sent it to my Bugnsax blog (@poliel) though but it did come in like right after I made the blog so it's possible you didn't know about it.

“You only volunteered to do this because you’re hoping to steal some treasure,” Beffica said as they left Snaxburg together.

“Nah, that ain’t the only reason,” Cromdo replied. “Somebody’s got to do it, might as well be me, right? And if I happen upon some treasure whilst searching through the wreckage, there ain’t no harm in taking it. ‘Sides, you only volunteered to keep an eye on me. So you ain’t got a leg to stand on here.”

Beffica couldn’t exactly argue with that since it was true. But somebody needed to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t try anything sleezy. In the interest of this being a rather urgent matter though, she didn’t bother saying so or anything else for now. Once they fixed the air ship and were safely sailing away, they could all go back to fighting and hating each other. Until then though it was best to get along and work together.

So instead, she started jogging, trying not to think about the occasional earth rumbling or the mounds of what looked like food coming out of the ground. As expected, Cromdo picked up his pace too, almost immediately starting to breath heavier.

By the time they reached the beach proper, Beffica was starting to breath harder too. Gosh how had long had it been since she’d last gone for a proper jog? Too long for sure. For Cromdo however it had clearly been longer with the way he was huffing and puffing. She wasn’t going to slow down for him though, they were in too much of a hurry and it made any further conversation impossible. So onward they continued towards Boiling Bay.

By the time they got there Beffica knew to expect it to be different than it had before the quake based off the changes Shimmering Springs had clearly gone through. The lava flow that had once crossed across the sand into the ocean had slowed to a trickle, the cave it came out of blocked up with rocks. The biggest change though and what was surprising enough to cause them both to slow to a halt was how much the shoreline had been altered. It hardly looked like the same place anymore. But as Snorpy had suggested, the quake had shook up and revealed more wreckage. Including two halves of a whole ship sticking up out of the water a bit further out. Which was the first real turn of lucked they’d had since arriving on this dang island especially since it looked remarkably intact other than the whole being split in half thing. In fact it looked like it hadn’t been there for very long … Wait a minute…

“I think that’s the ship we arrived here on,” Cromdo said before she could even complete the thought. “I guess Liz and Egg didn’t run off with it after all.”

“Huh? But how’d it get… You know what? Never mind. We don’t have to time to waste. Let’s go get what we need and gather anything else that might be useful and get back to Snaxburg.” Hopefully before another big quake hit or lava destroyed the town or the Queen of Bugsnax showed up to eat everyone or the Grumpinati came to finish them off or whatever other bad thing could supposedly end them before they could got off this island.

With the ship being split in two and there being two of them the most logical course of action was to split up and each search one half. Which made keeping an eye on Cromdo more difficult but the matter was a bit too urgent for Beffica to really worry about. It also unfortunately this meant getting very wet since the ship was still more submerged than not. But on the bright side, the bugsnax meant she currently didn’t have fur anymore and thus she didn’t have to deal that because wet fur was the worst.

It was Cromdo’s idea to carry everything they could salvage back in. Beffica was the one who found the ship’s massive ice chest though. It was more than big enough for their needs and already had some random foodstuffs in it, a good start. There somehow wasn’t even much water in it.

Their number one priority was finding what could even maybe be used to fix Buddy’s air ship and get it up and running again. Lucky for them Snorpy somehow seemed to know exactly what they would need for that and quickly laid it out for them. Hopefully they could find everything he needed.

Once they had what seemed and would hopefully be enough to fix the airship bundled into the ice chest on top of what was already in there, they both went back to their ship halves to have one more look around for anything that might be useful and would fit in the space left in the chest. Beffica unfortunately didn’t find much, everything else that might’ve once been helpful was too waterlogged to be of any real use now. But upon reuniting with Cromdo by the ice chest she was pleased to see he’d found something.

“What’s that?” she asked she approached.

“First aid kits. I don’t know how well anything inside them held up with the whole being underwater thing for however grumping long but it don’t hurt to bring them along regardless. But anyway, you find any treasure? Or anything that might be worth selling?” His hopeful tone indicated he’d found no such thing himself.

“Nope.” Not that she’d had brought it along if she had. “I unfortunately didn’t find anything actually useful either.”

With a sigh, Cromdo snapped the ice chest’s lid shut.

“Let’s just get this back to Snaxburg,” she continued before he could say anything. “Buddy and company should be nearing Frost Peak by now. We need to have the airship ready to go preferably before they get back.” Hopefully Lizbert would be with them. If not then… they’d have to write her off for good.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Let’s just get the grump out of here already. You take the back end, I’ll take the front. And lift with your legs, not your back ‘cause trust me, just ‘cause you’re young don’t mean you can’t throw your back out. And you don’t want to do that.”

“Yeah, grandpa, I know.” Beffica went around to grab her side.

“Hey, I ain’t that old.”

Beffica scoffed but otherwise chose to ignore him. “Lift in three… two… one.” They lifted it with a grunt and wasted no time starting back for Snaxburg.

One escape sequence later

Filbo seemed have steering the ship well in hand so Buddy gratefully plopped down to sit on their bed after making sure everyone was okay. It was rather crowded on board but it was still their ship so everyone had kindly left the bed to them. They were a bit tempted to lie out on it and take a nap but… they were still a bit too high strung to fully relax yet. Besides, there was a large ice chest on board now, pushed up against the back wall to keep it out of the way. Someone must’ve loaded it up with stuff from the town and brought it onboard before the bugsnax really began their assault. What exactly was inside was a mystery though, but one that shouldn’t be horrible and terrifying and therefore a safe thing to investigate. It’d also just be good to know in general in case anyone needed anything that it might contain. So Buddy reached over and pulled it closer and perpendicular to the bed so they could pop the latches and open it.

Inside was mostly empty but there was a rolled-up bit of sail cloth and a few loose planks of wood. … Ah, probably the leftovers of the stuff the others had used to repair the ship. What little was left probably wouldn’t be useful but it was best to keep it around anyway, just in case it was. Underneath that was… first aid kits, three of them. They were all leaking water, probably seawater judging based off the smell of it. Anything that was waterproof inside was still good to have on hand though. And at the bottom were packets of…

“Freeze dried scrambled eggs?” Buddy read the label aloud as they lifted it. That was certainly not what they’d expected and a quick look revealed the other packets had other freeze-dried foods as well. With a shrug, the dried it off before tearing it open with their teeth. They then sniffed the opening. … Hmm… it didn’t smell like the sea water had gotten in so… the poured some into their mouth.

It did not at all taste like any scrambled eggs Buddy had ever had. It didn’t have much of a flavor at all really. But what little was there was far better than ketchup or any other sauce. It was the first solid food Buddy had eaten in months. With that in mind they were tempted to down the whole thing right this instant followed by everything else in the ice chest. Before they did that though…

“Hey Gramble.” With how morosely quiet everyone was being they didn’t even need to raise their voice a whole lot for Gramble to hear them over by the bow of the ship. “I found some real food if you want some.” He’d gone even longer without eating solid food than Buddy had so he deserved some too.

His response was barely audible but sounded and awful lot like a “No, thanks.” Before Buddy could ask him if he was sure though, he perked up, raising his voice. “Wait, by ‘real food’ do you mean not bugsnax and not sauce?”

“Yep, exactly!”

“Oh, okay then!” And he was on his way over with Wiggle following.

Next Buddy turned to look at Shelda who’d been sitting in the corner on the other side of the cabin. She’d gotten up though and approached. She took a breath, clearly intending to ask for them to share. Buddy spoke up before she could though. “You can have some too.” She may have occasionally lost the battle of willpower and partaken in eating bugsnax but she’d still mostly eaten sauce for however long she’d been on the island.

“I… thanks,” she said before settling down on the floor by the ice chest.

“Ooh, let’s see,” Wiggle said as she and Gramble arrived. “Freeze-dried scrambled eggs that’s… not all appetizing.”

“It’s a whole lot better than sauce,” Gramble said, mirroring Buddy’s feelings exactly.

Speaking of that, Buddy was done offering to share with anyone else. No one else needed any or would probably even want any regardless. And there was already barely enough for just the three of them. When they got home, Buddy would eat all the real food they desired. For now though, this would more than do.

#my writing #bugsnax #beffica winklesnoot #cromdo face #the journalist #request

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sexyshakespeare · 4 years ago

Text

Kurodai AU Chapter 1: The Wolf and The Bear

He waited in the dark for an opportunity to strike. She looked like she was alone. Not a very big bear, he could definitely take her if he aims for her throat. One big bite, even if she throws him off, he could try to land on his feet. He might break a few toes, but that was a very small price to pay if he could get food and shelter for the month. Kuroo stepped out into the clearing by the water’s edge, stalking closer behind the bear who seemed unaware of his footsteps. And just as he was about to lunge, he hears massive footsteps running towards him, causing him to turn wildly around- a giant bear, much bigger than the other was charging at him. Where had he come from, this wasn’t going according to plan at all. He ran back into the woods behind them, running for his life, his heart beating against his chest to carry him further. This was it, he was dying today, and for what- for a life of a petty vendor running errands between tribes for scraps. He could see his life flashing before his eyes as he scrambled into the woods- the grizzly was fast as he was big, even the trees weren’t deterring him like they normally should any bear. He managed to climb a leaf strewn slope up to a jutting rock- hiding behind it to try and catch his breath. He debated running further, calling for help from the neighboring packs- maybe someone would come after all, even if he wasn’t welcome there anymore, maybe they’d mistake his call for someone else. But then he knew, nobody would come. He was alone, and he would die alone, under the jaw of this grizzly. He’d have to put up a fight, and this was his one chance. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and prepares to die. He aimed for the inside of the bear’s paw- a soft spot, easy to sink his teeth into and try to tear a chunk out of. As he connected with the beast, a terrifying, thunderous roar filled the forest, enough to shake new life into his body- he wasn’t all that small compared to him, his jaw clamping down on his entire paw, sharp fangs digging in deep. But the bear was bigger still, stronger, taller when he stood on his hind legs, and he was being thrashed around in the air like a ragdoll. Then finally, with one last shake, he was tossed into the side of that very same rock. His fate was cruel, but that wasn’t the thought running through his mind when the wind was knocked out of him- the only thought he had, as he whimpered loudly, tears stinging at his eyes- was the excruciating pain shooting through his entire body. His legs, his torso, his head. His head was spinning, the world was spinning- everything seemed to be going dark. This was it. This was the end. He was dying. Like the dog he is, bleeding against a rock in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t breathe, his ribs surely broken and its contents jostled around. Only his heart seemed to beating still stronger, aching as it pumped life into his body that begged it to stop. Meanwhile, the bear seemed to be in immense pain, stumbling through the woods higher up the slope, leaving a trail of blood behind from its paw. Kuroo closed his eyes then, satisfied with at least that much. That he’d died a fighting dog. If.. if his parents knew, then maybe they’d be proud. And with that, he let the blackness take him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kuroo opened his eyes. How much time had passed, he didn’t know. It seemed dark still, had it been a day already? No, he didn’t think so- it was his instincts driving him now, he needed a safe place to crawl into. Somewhere he could pass out in peace, not here where some animal or other would find him.

But could he move? He looked down to his legs, they looked bad- bruised dark, he could see it better now on his human skin. He was so sure he looked like a sad sack of meat as a man, but he knew he was too weak to change back, for a while at least. So not only was he on the verge of death, he was in his defenseless form- no sharp teeth or claws, or fur.

He reached down to the little bundle of rags he had tied to his thigh, and suddenly felt pain, bolts of pain running jagged through his torso. He gasped for air, struggling as he undid his clothes and managed to pull his hide-skin on. The bottoms were far worse to get into, his pelvis must be shattered he thought as he willed himself not to cry out loud. Panting, sweating, and delirious from the pain, he looked up the slope- all he needed to do was find a cave to lie down in. He wouldn’t move again for at least a week, but right now, he didn’t want to die of shock when something attacked him for meat as the night went by.

Taking in sharp hissing breaths through his mouth, he gripped at the rock beside him, and discovered that he couldn’t stand. He closed his eyes as the tears came, pain like he’d never felt before- and gritted his teeth, crawling up the slope as best as he could. Thankfully, it wasn’t too steep, and there were roots he could use to hoist himself up- his arms though bruised and hurting, could still carry him.

He managed to crawl on his knees some of the way- though it took the life out of him, which made him wonder if he might just survive this. Funny what 5 seconds of being upright can do to a man. Kuroo looked ahead of him just as the slope began to ease up, and saw the entrance of a tunnel that led into the mountain. It wasn’t used by any humans, that much was certain by the large bones strewn outside of it.

It wasn’t his best choice, but it had to do. The man managed somehow to stand then- his muscles aching, tears streaming down his face- he managed to hobble the rest of the way to the little doorway of the cave and collapse right in the middle of it, elbows hitting the hard granite.

This time he did whimper- and suck in a breath, eyes tired from staying open for so long. Crawling to the wall, he tried to sit up, but it hurt to put weight on his tailbone- so he slumped up against it instead. His peculiar gold eyes glinted towards the dark tunnel, praying that nothing came out of there while he was awake. Or that if it did, it would snap his neck first, do him a kindness.

What he didn’t expect, was a pair of eyes watching him from just inside the doorway-

human eyes.

Kuroo sucked in a breath, his adrenaline kicking in for a few seconds while he tried to sniff them out. He smelled dangerous, it made him want to roll right out of the cave he’d so painstakingly brought himself crawling into.

What was that smell.. strange, human but, unlike any human he’s ever smelled.

The stranger came forward then, his face illuminated slightly by the moonlight outside- dark hair, dark eyes, his body covered in dark furs, and a rugged face that spoke of immense strength. He didn’t seem hostile.

The two men stared at each other for a while longer- till Kuroo finally becomes aware of the smell of blood on him. Injured, like him, taking refuge in this cave then. But, a quick glance over his body revealed to him that he was nursing his hand behind him, the blood draining from there no doubt.

His gold eyes flicked up to his face just as he’d connected the dots, and so had the other man apparently,

“You should’ve run when you had the chance- I didn’t want to make a body bag out of you-“, the young man said plainly, bringing his bleeding hand out into the light, bandaged roughly with some leaves.

“I didn’t think you’d let me go with my life, after I almost attacked your mate”, Kuroo answered, his eyes studying the man’s affect, his body language was calm, composed. It wasn’t like he was a threat to anyone in the state he was in of course, and clearly he was more in danger than this bear man was.

The stranger didn’t say anything, only looking down at Kuroo’s legs, then at his torso. “Why were you hunting her- didn’t expect a wolf to hunt a grizzly on his own, the stupidest thing you dogs have ever done”

That comment got his hackles rising- a low rumble in his throat, which died as fast as it had come. He was far too much in pain to care about his pride.

“I was hunting for my tribe in the village nearby.. fish was drying up over the fall, deer running far from here- bear would’ve given them fur and meat for weeks-“, his voice was weak, his mind focusing on breathing more than his story.

“You were hunting for humans? You live with them?”, bear man asked, scooting forward to hear him better. He had a curious look on his face, clearly out to get as many answers as he could from the man he’d just maimed beyond repair.

“I.. I travel, and sell my wares..”

“What do you sell..”

“Meat.. clothes, I’ve carried messages and found wives for tribes-leaders”

The man squints at him, not fully understanding, “You’re a matchmaker?”

A little laugh sounded from the injured other as he cranes his neck backwards, reminiscing almost, “Ah h.. I’m a salesman.. I make deals in return for some food, shelter from other tribes”

“So you’re a conman-“, the brown-eyed fellow shot back at him, quick as ever to pass judgement, much to the chagrin of the wolf. However, he wants to continue this conversation, he wants to humor him, play him with his words if he can. “It’s only a con if they’re not happy.. and besides”, this he says with a little more pride, “I sell medicine too, not stolen, crafted by me”

“You don’t run with a pack..?”

Oh, the real questions were starting now. The ones that were difficult to answer.

Kuroo shook his head at him, keeping his eyes cast at the fur that hung over the man’s chest. Grizzly fur.

“Your home..? Home pack?”, he prodded some more, unknowing of the look he would see on the man’s face at the mention of it. Kuroo turned, the dark black hair that hung over half his face was facing him now, eyes cast away from his prying brown orbs.

Kuroo saw flashes of the faces again, he could smell the fire, the blood. He’d tried to make sense of it, not fully remembering any details only just piecing together what might’ve happened to his home, to his parents and his pack. His siblings, a sharp memory of a chasing game, and his mother.

It took him a few seconds, but with a slow blink of his eyes, he turned back to him, “You..? Your home pack?”

This topic seems to lift up bear’s spirits entirely- causing a wide smile to spread on his lips. Pride in his voice when he says, “Yep- lived here all my life, parents raised me here past the under-fall river, cliffs over there”

Kuroo watched him, nodding at the words, exhaustion climbing over his body slowly but surely. And it seemed that the other man noticed, his dark brown eyes showing some concern, maybe even warmth if he wasn’t imagining it.

Another minute passed before he said, “I can take you to my pack.. heal you there-“

The injured man looked at him, tired eyes, shaking his head, “What, let you take me to a forest full of bears? I don’t think so-“, he started off- but could not shake the look in his eyes as they bore into him, his wounds.

“I’m not going to survive another two days-“, Kuroo said to deter him further.

That’s when he came forward, this stranger who owed him nothing, and locked his eyes into his gold, his voice betraying no hesitation as he spoke the words. “I’m not going to let you die”

Kuroo’s head lolled a little now, which caused him to come closer, holding at his neck with his good hand, supporting his heavy, weary form with his strong arms. His strength was leaving him, so he whispered, brows knitting together as he shook his head at him again, “It’s not your place to save my life.. I tried to attack your family today- you can leave me here and go on with a clean conscience knowing they’re safe-“

“I’m not going to let you die”

His words were spoken even firmer, an air of finality about them, the stubbornness of a bear perhaps. The wolf could only watch those eyes, full of conviction, like they defied death itself to take him from him. And though he didn’t want to be moved, though he didn’t want to fight this awful, heaviness that was setting in his bones, he just knew he couldn’t say no to him.

Or maybe he was too tired to try.

The bear understood that this defeat meant a silent agreement to being in his care, which brought an impossibly warm smile to his face- the man who could have killed him, who came very close to doing just that barely a few hours ago. “Want me to carry you?”, he asked with clinical concern, but the response Kuroo gave was one of misplaced pride, “N o ..?”

Of course, that earned him an amused look.

A heavy sigh before Kuroo nodded, feeling his pride wilt, his tail between his legs at the thought of being carried like a cub to his cave- but the pull at his neck that he somehow expected instinctually, did not come. Instead, strong, capable arms despite his own injuries scooped underneath Kuroo’s torso and his legs carefully. Before he could protest, he was lifted in the air, and held close to his chest.

Swaddled then, like a baby. His mind seemed to snap when he saw the ground below them, a good way away, and he scrambled just a little to wrap his own arms around the man’s neck, wincing in pain from the movement.

And the gall he had to laugh at him. “Just like you dogs~ always the same, put you on a little shelf and all that pomp dies in seconds-“

Kuroo fumed at him, not appreciating the commentary as he was carried out of the cave-

“Alright alright, I’ll stop cause you’re injured”

“Dying-“

“Injured”

Stubborn. Big. Stinky. Bears. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was carried the rest of the way, past the river, and to the forest beyond the shallow fishing pool. The climb in the forest was gentle, the terrain naturally flowing back towards the riverside till it tapered to the side of a mountain. The rocky ledge he walked on was the worst hurdle- Kuroo didn’t dare look down to the depths below, burying his face into his shoulder, and closing his eyes shut.

But then, it cleared out onto a wide shelf overlooking the water- the bear cliffs were beautiful, something he’d only seen in the distance. The side of the mountain had several hollows inside of it- each one, full of sleeping bears.

His mouth hung open when he saw them, hardly believing his eyes.

“This is my home.. and you’re welcome here till you’re healed and ready to leave-“, he spoke finally, carrying him in the dark past several occupied caves and into a smaller, empty one.

He set him down on furs that lined the stone, gentle as a feather, showing exceptional control despite his severely injured hand- which the wolf suddenly felt so much guilt for giving him. Gold eyes heavy with sleep followed him as he walked about the surprisingly warm cave for where it was situated- then watched him as he kneeled by his side, a hollow shell in his hand.

“It’s a salve, should take away the fever and the pain for a little- help you sleep tonight..”, he said softly to the man in his care, trying to ease his worries. Looking down at his body now, the next words spoken were, “Strip your clothes off-“

Kuroo shouldn’t have- he shouldn’t have been able to ignore the exhaustion taking over his body, and look up at the man, a little smile building on his lips. But he did just that, eyes heavy lidded with sleep, but also something else-

The bear nearly huffed at him, raising his brow sternly, disbelievingly. Was he being, suggestive? Of what? “Or I’ll just cut it off of you, you’re not going to be needing them anyway-“

“Alright alright, I’m doing it-“, he said with what bear could’ve sworn was a giggle. After all that he’d been through, the man was giggling and chortling like a pup as he winced and sat up to pull his hide-skin rags off of his torso. He even had the gall to reach for his skirt, which gave good enough access as it is, “This too..?”

A firm little slap on his ribs seemed to do the trick. The man reeled, and gasped for air as he lay down instantly, to the delight of the brown eyed other, “Blood seems to be leaving your head, do better to lie down-”

The sun seemed to be filtering through the air, it was morning after already. Orange rays of light fell on the bear man’s face as he leaned over him and applied the salve to his body.

Kuroo watched him as he did it, carefully, taking all the time he needed- first over his chest and under his ribs, then down to his abdomen. As that hand pressed soft circles into his skin, he watched its fingers travel lower, to his hips, and then to his thighs underneath the rags of his skirt. He went still lower to his knees, his shins, his feet and his toes- leaving a trail of burning-cooling tingles in his wake.

When he was done, Kuroo found himself wishing he wasn’t, waiting for another round of this, whatever it was that he was doing to his body. He’d used salves before on himself, but none hadf felt quite like this.

Oh but he wasn’t done, his warm fingers found their way underneath him, rubbing soft lines down his spine to the small of his back. His face was so close to his body while he touched him, his palm cupping over firm buttocks, and travelling.. between them.

Kuroo’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when the firm fingers rubbed at his pelvic bone. There was not a moment of hesitation or awkward reluctance in the man’s eyes, only concentration on his task. A true healer at work, and a man of his word. He wasn’t going to let him die.

The wolf’s eyes poured into his, the words catching in his throat as he watched the bear put the shell down and wipe his one hand on the wall behind him, the other still covered in a bloody bandage and clotted, dirty. He came back to his patient’s side, smoothing over his forehead with the salved hand, a cool sheen of the stuff masking his skin and instantly giving him relief from the throbbing in his head.

“I’ll go find some crystals for you, they’re in a cave not far from here-“, he said to him, eyes full of not sympathy or even empathy really. They were full of care and quiet devotion. “They’re magic, they’ve healed the worst injuries we’ve had- broken bones, bleeding wounds, cured bad appetites and ailing hearts too”

Kuroo smiled faintly up at him then, “Thank you..”, he whispered, the events from the day fully settling on him as his eyes searched his brown. There was nothing there to read, only, inexplicable warmth. The bear’s thumb rubbed a small circle into his forehead, returning Kuroo’s smile with his own.

“Get some sleep..”

He didn’t have to be told twice, going out like a light as soon as the man had left the cave- sinking into dreamless slumber, and a deep one.

#kurodaiweek #kurodaiweek2021 #kurodai #supernatural #shapeshifterau #werewolf #werebear #sawamura daichi #daichi #kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuufic #suggestive #sfw #fanfic #hqfanfic

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mythicalcanary-literature · 4 years ago

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FanFiction - Crossing the Stars

Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya

FTL: Faster Than Light (c) Subset Games

[CHAPTER LIST]

Author’s Note: This FanFiction is a crossover between the sci-fi strategy game ‘FTL: Faster Than Light’ by Subset Games and the manga/anime called ‘Hetalia’ by Hidekaz Himaruya. The story will follow closely to the events of the rougue-like gameplay in FTL and the human characters will be replaced with the human versions of the national personifications in ‘Hetalia’. This is a fun personal project and it requires no knowledge of either fandom to enjoy this story. I’d encourage checking the original sources out though! Use of screenshots in this FanFiction are to supplement the storytelling to help plot the course of our heroes’ journey in the universe. Whatever the outcome of the gameplay I base this story on (as each playthrough is very unique) will be translated into the plot of this story. i.e. If the spaceship gets damaged, it gets damaged in the story. If a character dies in the game, they’re dead in this fiction. (Please note that I find this kind of storytelling entertaining to play/write and I plan to do more in the future if time allows!)

Chapter 2

The crew of the S.S. APH pondered their options. At the Exit Beacon of their first Civilian Sector they had a choice on where to jump. Both branching sectors were civilian areas, one was under Engi Control and the other under Zoltan Control.

Captain Alfred F. Jones brought up the file on the Engi species. “It says here that Engi dudes are made of nanomachines. That’s pretty damn sweet! Maybe we could get them to be our mechanics?”

Arthur Kirkland, the weapons master, pulled up the file on their second option, the Zoltans. “Apparently both the Engi and Zoltans are allies. We could encounter either species in either sector so we have a coin toss here. Zoltans are energy beings, meaning that they can act as a kind of battery to save us some engine power. That’s rather handy.”

Their engines expert Francis Bonnefoy hummed in approval. “Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind having either of those creatures on board. An expert mechanic? A spare battery, pardon ze term… and if we can encounter them in any of these two sectors I don’t think we could lose.”

“It says that the Engi are secret allies of the Federation. That bodes very well for us. Provided the Rebels haven’t corrupted them, of course,” Arthur added thoughtfully.

Their American Captain beamed. “Hell yeah! I guess that means the Zoltan dudes are allies as well. Can’t go wrong here.”

Arthur coughed. “Actually, if we enter Zoltan territory and we’re attacked by hostiles whom have a Zoltan Energy Shield we could face problems. Those energy shields are a bitch to destroy. We need to avoid as many problematic scenarios as possible.”

“Agreed,” the Frenchman said quickly. “I am still shaken from ze last battles.”

“Engi Controlled then?” Alfred suggested. “Back to your stations! Let’s get this important cargo on the move!”

A cautionary message popped up on Alfred’s monitor. It warned them that Mantis had been preying on the Engi core worlds and those insectoids were a rather violent race. He hoped for a peaceful voyage this go-round. He programmed in the next jump, reluctantly avoiding the temptation of visiting the store located at a nearby beacon. If they could harvest more scrap maybe they could invest in some more kickass weaponry or upgrades!

A rather disgruntled British voice chimed over the announcement system. “OH FUCKING HELL!” As tempted as the Captain was to discourage swearing, he allowed it in this case. Out of the frying pan and into the literal fire!

Francis gasped, staring out of his nearby airlock window at the super-giant Class M star! They were too close, they were going to cook like that rather delicious duck l’orange he made for his crew before they left the Federation space port back home. “Oh non non non!”

DANGER! SOLAR FLARES! DANGER! SOLAR FLARES! DANGER!

“Incoming dumbass Pirate Scout ship! Kirkland lock weapons on their shields and weapons rooms before we grill like a BBQ!” Captain Jones commanded as he anxiously kept an eye on their FTL Drive charge. He really did think those pirates were dumbasses, who dares lurk around a giant star to attack passersby at the risk of setting their own ship alight? Idiots.

The S.S. APH successfully damaged the pirate ship but the enemy return shot rocked the weapons room. FIRE!

Arthur hardly knew what hit him, but the searing heat was enough of a tip-off to tell him that if he didn’t move right now he was going to die. Scrambling to his feet, he reached for the fire extinguisher and tried to combat the flames. This was very bad.

His best friend’s voice hailed him over the comms. “Artie, get out of there! I’m gonna open the airlocks to snuff out the fire. Go literally anywhere where you have oxygen.”

“Aye, sir!” he acknowledged, coughing from the smoke as he fled to the shields room. The portside and starboard side airlocks shot open along with a couple of doors into the weapons room draining the air rapidly to deny the fire any fuel.

As soon as the fire was out, Alfred closed all of the doors. That was all kinds of horrible. The pirate ship was repairing and had shields online. If they could get their weapons…

The super-giant Class M star wanted in on the action. It stretched a solar flare right out to the warring ships!

WARNING! SHIELDS CRITICAL!

Good thing Kirkland kept that fire extinguisher. Fire seemed to be following him today. Alfred sighed from the Bridge and called his crew. “Artie, get out of shields, I’ll open the starboard airlocks. Bonnefoy! Assist Kirkland in weapons, we need to get those back online.”

“Aye-aye, Captain!”

In the weapons room, Arthur and Francis united to repair the systems. The Frenchman quickly pulled his on-and-off frienemy into a hug and checked him for injuries. “Mon Dieu! I am happy you aren’t too badly hurt. Ze shields are down, we have to work quickly. Are you well?”

Arthur huffed and pushed him away. “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s get to work before more fire follows me.” He was feeling a little paranoid that he had pissed off a sun god or some crap like that. They had to get away.

The pirates were fighting well! They destroyed their surveillance system, not that it was a vital system at this point in time but it was extra hull damage that our heroes could not afford to take. “Bonnefoy! Shields are broken, meet me there. Artie, I see weapons are online, stay there and give them hell!”

Give them hell indeed! The Englishman dealt the deathblow to the pirates and was glad to dust his hands of the bastards. Unfortunately the star was not done with them and heavily damaged their oxygen systems and the weapons room again. The battle was won but the war wasn’t over!

“I’m off to repair O2!” Arthur announced as he fled from his post at weapons to stop them from suffocating. Alfred acknowledged. “Francis, join him! Get the oxygen back online, we can repair other things later but our ship can’t handle more of this. I’m gonna jump us away!”

“Oui! Please get us out of here, I am sweaty and it’s gross.” The pair split directions and Alfred slammed in the co-ordinates of their next destination at the Bridge. If this was what was in the stars for them in this sector they might not live to see the end and that thought was terrifying.

The next leap took them to an existing battle between a Mantis ship harassing a small Engi research vessel. Alfred was almost ready to command an intervention but the insectoids fled as they entered their space. The Engi Captain hailed them, offering thanks for showing up, and gave the S.S. APH a new drone schematic.

Captain Jones gasped in awe. “OH SHIT YEAH! A BOARDING DRONE?! YEEEEEAH!”

His friends joined him on the Bridge. Arthur blinked in surprise. “A Boarding Drone? Wow, that’s powerful tech! Too bad we don’t have a drone room.”

“Dudes, we get one! Or we can sell it if we can’t, whatever, but damn, those Engi guys were nice.”

Francis stretched. “Let’s keep moving, mes amis. Ze Rebels are always on our tails.”

Arthur beamed. A Boarding Drone? That would be fun to use against the Rebel Fleet.

“Alright, dudes, you’re gonna hate me for this, but I’m gonna backtrack to the store. Our hull is fucked and if we can get a drone room to use this fancy-ass tech we’re sure as hell getting it!” Arthur chided him for his horrible use of the English language but agreed that the risk might be worth it. Their hull was already fifty percent damaged, it could spell death if they carried on without fixing it.

Luck turned in their favour! Alfred authorised the purchase of the new drone room to house the Boarding Drone, and it also came with a free Defence Drone Mark I! Bargain. They spent the rest of their scrap on hull repairs and moved on to the next beacon.

They backtracked to an earlier beacon and leapt right on towards the distress signal. Captain Jones listened to the plea and cringed. Oh boy, this was not a pretty distress call but he didn’t feel that they could risk a rescue mission. He called his crew to the Bridge to make an informed decision.

Francis peered through the window in surprise. “It’s an evacuation.”

Alfred hailed the fleeing vessels. “Yo, this is Captain Jones of the Federation Star Ship APH, what’s the sitch?”

Arthur glared at him for once again disregarding etiquette. He ignored his friend.

One of the fleeing ships responded; “Help! We’re being overrun by some sort of giant alien spiders!”

The Frenchman squealed. “WHAT? That’s disgusting! Call pest control!”

Arthur whacked him across the head. “I think literally anyone coming to their aid IS pest control.”

Alfred winced. “Giant alien spiders? Seriously?”

The fleeing ship yelled, “Help us or flee yourselves! Those things are evil!”

Arthur bit his lip. “Sending an away team isn’t advisable, Alfred. I don’t think we can afford to waste more time with the Rebels on our heels and we don’t know what we’re up against.”

Francis nodded. “Oui, I say we go. They’re already evacuating, we should stay ze course.”

The young Captain sighed and agreed resolutely. “Yeah, you’re totally right. Back to your stations, we have a mission to complete!”

“Heads-up, all! We’re navigating an asteroid field.” Alfred paused and checked the radar. “Incoming pirates! Kirkland, power down the Artemis missile and channel it into the drones. I’m gonna power down the medbay to support the Defence Drone, it’s gonna take out the asteroids for us.” Arthur switched the power routes and confirmed that the drone was ready.

“Ah shoot, it looks like we’ve got another coward on our hands. Enemy vessel is powering up its FTL Drive!”

“I’ve destroyed their weapons, sir!” Arthur replied, prepared to change tactics. “Thank God for this drone, it’s stopping the asteroids from striking us. Their hull is weak, the pirates won’t last long.”

True to his word, the pirates perished soon after and they could reap the rewards. There was no time to spare, they had to continue the journey!

“Hey, dudes! We have a Rebel Auto douche here with a sweet cache. Let’s attack it and steal its shit.”

Arthur audibly sighed over the comms system. “Is that an order, Captain or are you daydreaming aloud?”

“HAHAHAHA! Shut it and fire up the weapons, bro.”

“How the hell did you earn your Captain’s badge again?” he asked rhetorically.

“By bein’ a HERO, of course! Fire up!”

“I’ve taken out their weapons, Captain!” Sadly, that wasn’t enough to stop an enemy missile from screwing with their shields.

“Shields are down! That goddamn drone is setting everything on fire! Francis, run to weapons, I need to open the airlocks!”

“Oui, I’ll keep Arthur company and hope he doesn’t attract fire again,” Francis responded, running down the halls.

Arthur scoffed. “Quiet, idiot, or I’ll make sure you’re in the way of the fire beam.”

“So cruel!” the Frenchman whined as he entered the weapons room. The Englishman stuck out his tongue and switched the Burst Laser to lock on the drones as Alfred opened the airlocks to control the drain of oxygen.

Once the fires were extinguished, Alfred shut the airlocks and commanded Francis to repair the shields and medbay. The Auto-Assault ship exploded and left them with a decent reward. Arthur examined the weapon from the cache. A Healing Burst? That could be useful but he was hoping for something a little better.

The next beacon was a store! The Engi hive operating it seemed friendly enough and Alfred treated Arthur to a special weapons augmentation. As the Engi repaired their hull, Arthur installed the ‘Automated Re-Loader’. An extra ten percent recharge rate on their weapons could really give them an advantage!

Feeling refreshed, the crew embarked to the next beacon, painfully aware of how close the Rebel Fleet was getting to them.

“Yo, crewdudes! I found a dormant Rebel Automated Scout here. I’m gonna try and download its data stores. You guys chill or whatever.”

A FEW MOMENTS LATER…

“Uh… Yeah, Artie, can ya do me a favour and like… blast the ever living hell outta this thing? I miiiight have activated it into fight mode.”

Francis could have sworn he heard the audible facepalm from his friend, but then again he could have done that deliberately over the announcement system.

Fortunately these ships were quick to deal with and Arthur destroyed it without putting up much of a fight. They collected the loot and moved on with their lives.

The next beacon was located around a pulsar. A small research station orbited it, but it seemed to be abandoned. Alfred scanned the area and flipped on the Red Alert sirens. “BATTLE STATIONS, PEEPS. WE HAVE MORE PIRATES!”

“I thought this was Engi space? All we’ve seen are Rebels and Pirates!” Francis complained over the comms system.

“They could be Engi pirates? We don’t have the scanners to see into their ships,” Arthur reasoned as he powered up the weapons. “Brace yourselves for ion waves, everyone. Our electronics are going to go haywire.”

DANGER! ELECTROMAGNETIC WAVES! DANGER!

The enemy weapons room was targeted and blasted to pieces. An ion wave disrupted their engines and shields, whereas the enemy had a mild disruption to their weapons and oxygen rooms.

“We have another runner! Take these losers down, Kirkland!”

“I’m doing my best! The bloody pulsar knocked out my weapons charge.”

“Shit, they’re getting away!”

There was a tense moment as the pirates used their FTL Drive to flee. The crew of the S.S. APH were worried that they would alert the Rebel Fleet about their location. This did not happen and they could breathe again.

“Fuck, that was intense!” Alfred called over the announcement system. “Look, things are gonna get ugly. We’ll pitstop at the next store but we’re gonna encounter the Rebels at the Exit Beacon. Artie, be on high alert when we get there.”

“I’m already on high alert, but I will do my best to fend them off so we can get to the next sector.”

“Good man. Franny, come with me, we’ll get the supplies this time.”

The Engi trader was a nice entity. He showed the crewmembers his wares and allowed them to discuss budget. In the end, they settled for a Flak Gun Mark I to potentially give them an advantage over multiple shields on enemy vessels along with an extra bit of fuel to tide them over. That was it, that was ALL of their scrap, which included the extra currency they made by selling their Healing Burst. They hoped it was enough to keep them alive.

Captain Jones gathered his friends in the Bridge with a grave expression. “Okay, so the Rebels are definitely at the Exit Beacon, no escapin’ that. Just do your best and try not to die. Our priority is to buy time to escape, alright? We’re not aiming for a win, we’re aiming for an escape.”

Francis looked nervous. “I don’t want to die!”

Arthur sat on the pilot’s chair and rested his head in his hands. “We all know the risks. Let’s not be pessimistic. We’ll either succeed in getting through the beacon or they will blow us to kingdom come. We’ve better head there right now. I just hope they haven’t had time to set-up anti-ship batteries…”

“Good luck, guys! I believe in you!” They all hugged for a brief moment before marching off to their stations. Here goes nothing!

As Alfred suspected, the enemy ship had two layers of shields to deal with. The investment in the Flak Gun was worth it. Arthur warmed up the weapons and aimed the Flak Gun at the enemy engines with additional fire power aimed at their shields in the form of the Artemis missile. He also noticed that they had a teleportation pad. Well, this was about to get bloody!

WARNING! INTRUDERS DETECTED!

“Bonnefoy! Get out of engines and man the doors! I’m opening the back airlocks, don’t get caught in it, I’ll try and suffocate the bastard!” Alfred called over a private comm link as he monitored the single human intruder.

“Aye, Captain!” Francis responded, racing to his new post as the engine and oxygen rooms were starved of air. The intruder was going to regret beaming aboard alright!

In weapons, Arthur cringed as his Flak debris missed the FTL Drive. He was counting on the Artemis missile to destroy the shields to help things along. The shields were hit on both ships and they tried their best to remain stable.

WARNING! SHIELDS CRITICAL!

The oxygen room was under attack by the one intruder that was slowly suffocating because he didn’t bring a space suit. The S.S. APH’s shields were vulnerable, which meant that the Rebel Elite Fighter could definitely land more hits. This wasn’t looking great and the FTL was taking its sweet time to charge up!

Francis did his best to hold the doors firmly secured shut. This was difficult when they never invested any scrap to upgrade their reactor and subsequently their subsystems further. He could not leave his post whilst the intruder remained on board, which left the engines unmanned so that he couldn’t assist Alfred with dodging attacks, and if he left the doors to repair the broken shields Arthur would be attacked by the intruder, no doubt. This was a horrible situation and it was going to get worse.

WARNING! INTRUDERS DETECTED! WARNING! SHIELDS CRITICAL!

Arthur managed to damage the Rebel’s engines, shields and weapons but chaos had already reigned on the S.S. APH. Enemy retaliation had damaged their piloting systems, shields and engines. On top of that, there was a fire in the drone control room and the entire oxygen system had been destroyed. They were in major trouble!

WARNING! SHIELDS CRITICAL!

WARNING! HULL AT 75%!

It was a never-ending sound of alarms on the ship. Alfred was stuck repairing the piloting system so that they could continue charging the FTL Drive, Francis had left the door system room to try to fix the shields to give them SOME protection as Arthur madly aimed their weapons at the enemy ship.

Arthur panicked and knew he had to do something or they’d be stuck as a waiting target for the Rebels to destroy any minute now. He ran to the engines to repair the FTL Drive. “Alfred! I’m repairing the engines. We can’t leave if they’re broken!”

“The weapons are auto-firing, right?!” he called back.

“Yes! I…” Wow, the air was constricting in this room. He continued working as hard as he could to get the engines back online but he couldn’t focus for some reason… “We need to get vital systems online!”

The Rebels were close to destruction but that felt like a hollow promise of victory. The teleportation room activated again and now they had THAT to deal with too.

Alfred was sweating. The drone room was directly behind the Bridge and that was completely on fire now. He couldn’t run to help his friends and they were losing! He checked the ship surveillance to see how everyone was and his eyes widened in horror. “FRANCIS, GET TO THE OXYGEN ROOM NOW. FIX IT QUICKLY, ARTHUR’S DYING!”

“What?!” came the Frenchman’s startled response. “I’ll head there now!”

“ARTIE, BUDDY! Your vitals are critical. Are you conscious?! Get out of there and head to the medbay right now. ARTHUR! Move it! Please…”

Arthur was hanging on by a thread. He could barely move but he had to get out of there. Somehow he got to his feet and felt his way out of the engine room. His health was waning and he almost fainted en route to the medbay. He had to get there. To heal. To breathe. There was so much NOISE. Where was medbay again?

WARNING! INTRUDERS DETECTED!

Arthur collapsed on a bed in the medical wing. Luckily the system was able to start helping him to convalesce but he was extremely close to death! Thankfully he made it there in time.

Francis was struggling. It took a lot of effort but the oxygen was back online! He coughed and hurried over to the medbay as his health depleted further. He was the second member close to death that day. He saw Arthur and relaxed, letting the system heal his body.

BOOM! The enemy vessel exploded leaving them with a nice bit of fuel to move on when they weren’t burning to death. That was one less worry for Alfred but he had plenty more to deal with post-battle. Namely the one intruder destroying their weapons room!

Alfred sighed with relief and spent a moment recovering. He checked on his friends’ vital signs... they seemed to be improving in the medbay. Good. That was too close for comfort. He exhaled and began opening most of the airlocks, not only to deal with the raging fire in the room behind him but also to make the intruder suffer.

He watched as the oxygen fled the ship and waited for his best friend to regain consciousness. They had to get this ship running again pronto or they’d face another vessel, which they can’t afford to do!

WARNING! INTRUDERS DETECTED!

Alfred made a beeline to the medbay once most of the fire was extinguished. He hugged Arthur once he woke up and dragged him to the door systems room. “Good job there, Artie. Sorry you almost died, but we’re alive now. I need you to focus and help me repair these doors or we’ll never be able to close them. Francis repaired the oxygen room, he’s healing at the moment, and we have an intruder on board and the Rebels are kicking our asses but we’ll be fine! Just help me fix shit so we can leave, okay?”

The shorter blond blinked his emerald eyes tiredly at him and nodded, helping to restore the systems. He put out the fire in the door room with Alfred and was feeling well enough to take back responsibilities on the ship.

Once all of the fires were extinguished on the ship, Alfred remotely sealed the doors and responded to an alert from the medbay. The intruder had decided to launch an attack on Francis whom was still recovering!

“Gotcha, Rebel scum!” Alfred yelled as he barrelled into the intruder and started hand-to-hand combat with the enemy. Arthur woke up his bearded friend and together the three of them eliminated the rebel for good. Panting, the crewmates gathered their wits as the medbay healed them.

Francis looked pale. “I think we almost died. For real that time.”

Arthur bit his lip. “I should have known that something was off when I tried repairing the FTL Drive. I didn’t realise the oxygen was knocked out, I should have gone there, but my thought was to fix the engines so we could flee.”

Alfred sat down on a bed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ugh, that was horrible. I almost lost you both. I don’t want to pilot this ship on my own, we’re already a tiny crew.”

“Well we made it!” Francis chimed in optimistically.

Alfred hugged them all tightly before standing up with purpose. “Now we’re all healed, let’s get this ship functioning again and then get the fuck outta dodge!”

Arthur stretched and saluted half-heartedly. “I’ll fix drones, Jones should take engines and Bonnfoy fix my bloody weapons. When we get to the next sector we REALLY need to focus on upgrades if we can. Our reactor power is weak and we can’t use all of our systems to full capacity.”

“I know that, dude,” the Captain scoffed. “Let’s just get out of here and then worry about the technicalities.”

With repairs completed, Alfred went back to the Bridge alone. The sector map branched out into two locations. They could either go to another Engi Controlled sector, not that this sector bore much fruit for the S.S. APH, or they could risk everything and attempt to survive in Rebel Controlled territory. He groaned. Being a space Captain wasn’t as cool as he thought it would be. He wished he had convinced his friends to stay home instead.

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT SECTOR...

Chapter 2 - END

[CHAPTER LIST]

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[Cover Art] This image was drawn in HB pencil and painted in watercolour paints on the 8th August 2021. It was digitally enhanced in GIMP Image Editor on the 9th August 2021. Paper type = 130 gsm

This chapter was written on the 30th-31st August 2021.

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Please do not repost, modify, resell or claim this work as your own.

(Reblogging is fine, though!)

[Mythical Canary Info]

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mourntheantagonist · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

1988: P.I.R. Day 1

“Bill, it’s raining.”

Billy looks over to his boyfriend who sits in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. The rain is coming down as barely even a sprinkle. More like a mist. Windshield wipers only useful every five minute.

“Someone’s observant.”

Steve scoffs and crosses his arms. He’s been in a mood since they got up this morning. Steve was all packed and ready for a long weekend trip only to find out that the track was only a whopping ten minute drive from their house.

“Where else did you think the Portland International Raceway was located?”

Steve just dropped his duffle to the ground and walked out the front door and jumped into the Camaro. Leaving the cup of coffee Billy had poured him sitting on the counter to grow cold.

Billy knew not to look too much into things like this with Steve. He was by no means a morning person and even though the droplets were small, rain always put him in a bad mood.

It reminded him too much of Hawkins. Not memories of good days out with friends or at parties getting shitfaced. It reminded him of the days spent inside by himself as he watched raindrops drip on the window pane. Alone in his huge house. Nothing to do but stare at the puddles forming in potholes and being heavily reminded of his loneliness.

Rain put him in a bad mood. It really didn’t help that they lived in the Pacific Northwest, where rain was almost an everyday thing. But today it was a little more than just the rain. It was that Billy would be racing in the rain. Steve didn’t like that at all.

Billy oh so regrets telling Steve about the guy who spun out and crashed into a wall just two races ago. Because of the rain he hydroplaned and couldn’t stop himself. But Steve won’t listen to the rest of the story. Won’t listen to the fact that the guy has a history of pulling shit like this. Doesn’t take the road conditions into account ever. And he was fine! The car barely even sustained enough damage to warrant repair. Just a dent that was easily pulled out and a couple chips off the paint.

Steve wants nothing more than for Billy to turn the car right around. Drive out to Peet’s and fuel him with some caffeine, considering he’d abandoned the one at home in an attempt to make a point to Billy.

But he’s not going to ask him to do that. But he’s definitely not going to let Billy think he’s okay with what he’s doing.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll go slow.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “For you, slow is five over.”

“I’ll turn around if you’re really that upset about it.”

Steve wants to scream ‘Yes! Please turn around’, but he doesn’t want to be the reason for that. Doesn’t want to be the wall standing in between Billy doing what he wants to do. He wants Billy to put up those walls himself, for himself. Value his own safety and livelihood just a little bit.

Was Steve being overdramatic? Probably. But cut him some slack. It’s eight in the morning, rain is coming down, Billy refuses to run the heat in the car, and he’s tired. Should have just drank the damn coffee.

They pull into the venue and it is absolutely nothing like the last race. Trees are replaced by buildings. The hum of traffic on the interstate is deafening. They are unmistakably still smack dab in the middle of the city, and not in Nowheresville, Washington. There’s people standing around engaged in conversation. Easily able to differentiate between locals and tourists by whether or not they’re standing under the canopy. True Oregonians don’t even own umbrellas.

Sure, they’re technically locals, but Steve still rushed from the safety of the car to one of the covered areas, pulling his flannel up and over his head. Have to protect the hair.

Billy followed shortly after, Steve’s raincoat in hand because Billy remembered to grab it. Steve always forgets. Steve begrudgingly takes it from Billy’s hands and puts it on. It’s hard to stay mad at someone when they keep being so considerate. But Steve does have a special talent for that.

“Come on you big fucking baby, let’s go get you some coffee. They’re selling some at concessions.”

Steve’s head jerks around quick enough to cause minor whiplash.

“Wait, there's concessions?”

“Yes. Not every race is just a bunch of dudes in a parking lot.”

“Is there food?”

Billy just huffs out a laugh and pulls Steve by the collar of his jacket out into the rain and towards the little concession stand by the bleachers. If there’s one way to get Steve out of a bad mood, it’s directly through his stomach.

Billy bought him a cup of coffee with extra creamer – he was still working on that – and a croissant. Steve didn’t need to know that they weren’t freshly made and came directly out of a Costco container. As his stomach filled and his body warmed up from the hot drink in his hand, his bad mood started to fade. And just like Steve, the earth had a mood change as well. Clouds parting, letting in a glimpse of sun as the rain halted.

“Look Steve, no more rain.”

“The ground is still wet.”

Billy just dramatically threw his hands in the air. “Barely!” He exclaimed. “Just relax and finish your croissant. I’m gonna go register.”

Steve nods and watches Billy walk away, leaving him there by himself. Coffee in one hand, half of a croissant in the other. Left to his own thoughts. His weird intrusive thoughts. Like if someone were to push him over, which would he save? The coffee or the croissant? He should just finish the croissant so he doesn’t have to ponder that question. He never liked the trolley problem.

He looks to the sky, watching the clouds continue to part revealing bright blue skies and the bright sun overhead. It was nice, but they lived here long enough to know not to hold their breath. Portland rain was indecisive. It would be pouring buckets one minute, and sunny clear skies the next.

It’s why you would never catch a local with an umbrella. It’s pointless unless you plan to lug it around with you all year long. It’s better to learn to accept and even appreciate damp clothes and damp hair. That last part was definitely taking Steve some time to come to grips with.

The line Billy’s in was long. And he didn’t appear to be anywhere close to the front. That’s the reason the sudden hand on his shoulder startled him. Was he actually going to have to decide which to save?

But he turns around to see Gerry. Five foot three and a hundred and ten pounds of pure bullishness. Steve would be lying through his teeth if he were to say he wasn’t absolutely terrified of the old woman.

“Good to see ya here kid. Thought you’d been scared off after the first race.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open just slightly. It’s too early for him to talk to people. Luckily he realizes he’s been just standing there like an idiot after just a few seconds.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I just have a crazy work schedule. This was the first time I could have the weekend off.”

“That’s good. Was startin’ to worry the two of you had broke it off. Glad to see ya didn’t.” She pats his shoulder a little hard. Not really expecting it he stumbles slightly.

He momentarily freaks at the comment. Forgetting for a second that Billy had told her. He allows himself to smile when it comes back to him. Enjoying the acceptance from the old woman. Ahead of her time. Reminding himself why he said he liked her.

“Okay. Since I have you alone, I have to ask. I have a theory and I need you to confirm it.” Steve throws her a quizzical look and takes a sip of his coffee. “What’s Hargrove like in the sack?”

Steve nearly does a spit take.

He manages to swallow the coffee in one aggressive gulp before actually bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry. Uh. Could you maybe elaborate? Are you asking about our... positions?”

“Oh god. No. Please don’t tell me that.”

Steve never thought he’d see that lady blush. But she was. Blushing. Cherry red all over her cheeks.

“My theory is that his little tough guy act don’t make it past the bedroom door.”

“Oh! Okay. Umm.” Steve was slightly uncomfortable. Discussing not his sex life with a woman be barely knew, but Billy’s sex life. But Steve was still hanging on to that grudge and thought, what harm is there? “He’s definitely not as aggressive, but I wouldn’t go as far to say he’s entirely submissive.”

“So he’s not a pillow princess?”

Steve raises his eyebrows and chuckles.

“Sometimes.”

Now Gerry has burst into laughter. Almost tearing up. Steve never would have thought this is the kind of conversation he’d be having at eight thirty in the morning in the middle of a parking lot surrounded by conservative men in their forties and fifties.

And then there’s someone else standing next to them. Long dirty blond hair. Unmistakably Billy.

“What are you guys laughing at?” Billy asks. Not at all amused.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, princess.” Gerry says before slapping a hand two times against his cheek and walking off without another word.

Billy looks completely dumbfounded. Steve is desperately trying to hold in another laugh.

“Did she just call me princess?”

“Hey shouldn’t we be walking the course right about now?”

Billy takes the half eaten croissant from Steve’s hand and takes a bite before handing it back.

And with a mouthful of bread he points a finger. “This conversation is not over.”

- : -

They only had the time to walk the course just once. Billy was nervous. Steve could tell. Not just because of that. But because it had started to rain again.

Steve doesn’t like seeing Billy nervous about the rain. He was already nervous enough himself when Billy was all confident with his “it’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing”’s, but if Billy’s nervous, that can’t be good.

By the time they get back to the Camaro, Billy falls into the driver seat with his legs hanging out the open door. His head in his hands breathing slightly chaotic. Something was wrong. More than just the rain.

Steve lays a tentative hand onto Billy’s thigh, but Billy quickly and swiftly slaps the hand away.

“Don’t touch me. We’re in public!”

Okay. Something was really wrong.

Because not ten minutes ago they were just fine being touchy. Sure they were very PG and platonic. But Billy seemed to be okay with it so long as it was nothing too suspicious. A hand on a thigh might seem a little too suggestive if you don’t counter in the fact that there was literally nobody near and the car door shielded the act entirely from view.

But Steve chose not to take it personally. Because something happened in that little head of his as soon as the rain started. Something Steve was not yet privy to.

“Billy. Relax. I’m gonna get in and we’re gonna talk it out, okay?”

Billy nodded his head. Breaths still shaky with a hint of anger as he tossed his legs into the vehicle and slammed his door shut. Okay maybe a little more than a hint.

Once Steve was inside he took a tight hold of Billy’s hand. Trying to calm his erratic breathing. It seems to help slightly. Enough for Billy to actually hear the words coming out of Steve’s mouth.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Billy looks at him. His eyes stone cold. “It’s fucking raining.”

“Someone’s observant.”

“Shut up.”

Steve pulls their clasped hands to where they are now resting on Steve’s thigh. Wrapping a second hand around the two so Billy’s is fully encompassed.

“That didn’t seem to bother you an hour ago. Why now?”

Billy tosses his head back against the headrest. Shutting his eyes tightly and inhaling sharply through his nose.

“You! You made me fucking nervous, Steve. I have never given the rain a second thought until you. And now I can barely remember the course, and I have to run on street tires, and it’s fucking raining! And you’re here to watch and now I’m nervous.”

Steve’s look at Billy softens. Because it makes sense. And god Steve feels awful because it was his grumpy attitude that caused all of this.

“Bills, if I thought your life was actually in danger I would have had you turn the car around when you asked. I was just in a pissy mood, okay?” Steve squeezes tighter. “I believe in you, princess.”

That pulls Billy out of his haze for just a moment. “Okay what the fuck inside joke is this?”

“If you do well today, maybe, I’ll tell you.”

“Bribery huh? Didn’t think that was your style.”

Aw. There’s the Billy he knows and unfortunately loves.

“Come on, let’s get those brand new numbers on your car.”

“Kiss me first, shithead.”

So Steve does. Leaning over the stick shift, planting a quick and wet kiss straight to Billy’s lips. Not the kiss Billy wants. But that’s all Steve’s going to give.

- : -

To both of their surprise, Billy doesn’t spin. Actually, he’s one of the only drivers who didn’t spin.

And fortunately, nobody crashed today. Not even Dwight.

Steve didn’t ride with Billy today. Not wanting to add to the stress. Even if it wasn’t a timed run.

And Billy came in first. Even if he drove slower than his liking. All of the DNF’s, missed gates, and hit cones playing in his own favor. And shit, Steve owes him some information, and maybe a better kiss.

The second run group was on course straight away, giving Billy and him absolutely zero time to even speak before Billy was being summoned to his work assignment. So Steve just parked himself at one of the picnic tables in the covered area. Ignoring the fact that his boyfriend was putting himself in front of reckless drivers on wet pavement. Shoving down the thought of “what could go wrong” as far as it would fucking go.

No. No. No. The only car Billy would be going home in would be the Camaro. Not an ambulance.

The sounds of screeching tires against wet asphalt did not cure the thought. Painstakingly resisting every urge to turn his head every time he heard so much as an “ooh” from an onlooker.

He sat there. Sipping on his now lukewarm coffee and searching the wooden planks of the picnic table for hidden shapes. Just like he would with the clouds if they weren’t just one gray blob.

And time manages to pass by quickly with just that to occupy his time. He hears the engines shut off and the announcer call something over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t know what, but the tone of his voice made it sound like a finale.

He’s tossing his nearly empty coffee cup in the garbage can when Billy comes up from behind him.

“Hey, before we go, wanna feel like you’re in high school again?” Billy asks, discreetly pulling at his sleeve.

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Just trust me.”

Steve gives him a weird look but follows Billy under the bleachers that face the real racetrack. The one people actually come here for. Not a parking lot.

You can barely see anything but rusted metal from where they’re standing. Steve pieces it together fairly quickly.

“You bring me under here to kill me?”

“Just shut up and fucking kiss me.”

Billy was right. It totally does feel like high school. The good parts. Sneaking girls under the bleachers on the football field. But this felt ten times better. Because it was Billy. Not just some girl he only got with to prove something to Tommy H.

It’s like they were in their own little corner of the world. Perfectly concealed and able to love one another publicly but privately at the same time.

Steve’s tugging at Billy’s hair and Billy’s tugging at his. He’d be upset if it hadn’t already been messed up by the rain earlier.

Their hands are moving haphazardly but their lips and tongues have found a rhythm. Slowly interlocking and fulfilling their every need.

“God I love you.” Steve breathes against Billy’s mouth.

“Tell me what princess means.”

Steve had nearly forgotten.

“Something relating to your pillow.”

Billy stalls for a second before completely stepping away from Steve.

“You did not tell her that.”

Steve doesn’t respond. Just raises his eyebrows and stands his ground. The look says I sure did.

“I fucking hate you.”

“You love me.”

And Billy just moves back in, pulling him by the collar, and kisses him. Inhaling sharply. Breathing in all that is Steve.

“You know you love it when I just lay there.”

“Yeah. I do.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #mandi writes tresh #a clean run

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toonqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Duckvember 2020

-Dreadful-

SORRY I’M ON A KICK WITH MY HEADCANON FOR NEGA-GLADSTONE.

*Sees what the next prompt after this is.* Well shit. Btw Grandma Coot in this is Grandma Duck. Nega Grandma doesn’t use her married name in the Negaverse cuz FUN TIMES.

This again is in the 87/comics universe headcanon I have. Whee.

Some casual cussing cuz Negaversers cuss okay.

:readmore:

---------

“I have some business in the city. Would you like to come with me?” Elvira Coot asked her grandson.

The young teenager was sprawled out on the couch, watching some violent cartoon nonsense on TV. He looked up at her, since the show wasn’t really holding his attention. “Which city?” Grimstone replied as he fiddled to find the off button on the remote.

“Which city,” she snorted, as if Grimstone had cracked a bad joke, “I remember when Duckburg was farmland. St. Canard is the only real city around here.”

“Alright, I’ll go. Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Grimstone got up quickly to put on his shoes and an overly large sweater his Grandma had knit him. A sweater she had done within days of taking him in. Though she was sometimes short with her grandson, and often painfully blunt, she obviously cared for him.

Grim’s childhood was rough; from a controlling mother to being locked up in a basement for years before running away and joining a wayward group of kids. Despite his Grandmother’s harsh attitude, this was the best he had it so far. Meals three times a day, and actually appreciated when he did work around the farm. Grimstone was allowed to wander the swamps freely, spend alone time in his very own bedroom.

“Where are we going exactly?” Grimstone asked as they headed to the pickup truck parked out front.

“Picking up two more generators,” Grandma answered, climbing into the truck. Grimstone hopped in beside her.

“Don’t you have, like, four already?” Grimstone stated as he buckled his seat belt. Grandma started the truck without putting on hers. Grimstone wordlessly glared at her until she sighed and put on her own seat belt. The young teen already had several arguments with his Grandmother that she couldn’t be a doomsday prepper but not wear her seat belt for safety. There was irony somewhere in that.

“Six,” Grandma corrected, “you can never have too many generators for when the world ends.”

Grimstone, upon first being taken in by his Grandmother, did find her doomsday survivalist side an unexpected quirk. His mother had never been like that. Sure, his mother dearest had lived “in the now’” making some selfish decisions but wasn’t so pessimistic about the future.

And the way Grandma stocked up, like there would be hundreds staying on the farm when the time came. He found that even more strange; before he came to the farm it was just her living there alone. She’d mention the other family sometimes, his cousins. All her many grandkids. Grim often wondered why she wasn’t a part of their lives anymore. She hadn’t even been a part of his until he accidentally found the farm. And that was just pure luck.

Ol’ Elvira Coot had purposely stopped talking about the inlaw side of the family related to the McDucks. She noticed Grimstone would tense up and get unusually quiet whenever she mentioned them. She also picked up the boy was a little claustrophobic. Grimstone definitely did not like going into some of the storage rooms in the basement. There were a few comments Grim had made here and there about staying with other relatives when his parents died. The same he clearly ran away from.

Grandma didn’t pry since it seemed to upset him, but she was willing to listen if he ever wanted to talk. Often Elvira just wanted to tell him that if she had known her daughter died, she would have come get him, but she wasn’t sure if that’d only upset Grimstone more. One day she’d tell him everything.

Most of the drive Grimstone was silent, which was normal for him. He always liked to observe the wide expanse of the swamp around the farm, turning into dry grasslands before getting closer to St. Canard. Crossing the bridge, he finally piped up. “They fixed the frayed cables on the left side finally.”

“Yeah, I just noticed that, too,” Grandma Coot retorted. A worrisome thought crossed her mind, but she bit her tongue. “You can stay in the truck while everything gets loaded.”

“Nah, I’ll go with you. Maybe you’ll get a better deal if they know you have this adorable mouth to feed,” Grimstone said, playfully sarcastic. He gave a cheeky smile without showing any teeth.

His Grandma noticed ages ago Grimstone never smiled with his teeth. Just like her.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t bet on that, bucko,” Grandma replied, keeping her eyes on the road as she reached over to ruffle his hair. She remembered when he would shy away from any physical contact. However, it only took a couple weeks to get over that wall, and the little brat quickly accepted hugs and affection.

Grim turned his gaze from the window to the elderly duck. “Hey, can we stop by that ice cream place we went to last time? After you pick up your stuff?”

Grandma Coot chuckled. “Oh, so that was your scam all along, huh? Here I thought you just wanted to keep your precious grandma company when all you really wanted was that tabasco ice cream again, hmm?”

Although Elvira was only feigning hurt and joking, Grimstone still felt like he had to defend himself. “What! No!” he argued. “I just thought of it now! That ice cream was some good shit but I still like spending time with you!”

“I know, I know. How about we pick up a whole carton of it to bring home? *But*, then you have to clean out the goat stalls,” she bargained.

“Yeah, sure, okay, fine,” Grim grumbled and crossed his arms. In truth, he really didn’t mind the busy work around the farm. He wasn’t going to let her know that any time soon, though, since chores were often traded for treats. “Sometimes I wonder how you took care of that place all by yourself before I came along.”

It was a simple comment. He didn’t mean anything by it. Elvira sighed sadly, “Well, I wasn’t always alone.” After a silent pause, she added gingerly, “But now I have your bastard ass to keep me on my toes.”

“Hey!” Grim playfully back-handed his Grandma lightly on the arm.

“If you’re calling that a punch, we need to work on your fighting later,” Elvira smirked.

“My shooting’s gotten really good! I hit all the cans yesterday!” the teen said defensively.

“I know, I know. I saw,” Elvira chuckled, and smiled.

Grimstone smiled faintly in return. Sure, she was a weird old lady sometimes, but he was glad he had at least one family member that liked him around.

It wasn’t long until they pulled into the parking lot of a warehouse near the pier. There was a large boat with a dark green tarp over its semi-exposed cargo. Grimstone recognized the familiar generators. There were two rugged looking seagulls standing outside a small building nearby.

“Stay in the truck,” Elvira ordered. Grimstone didn’t understand; why bring him if she was only going to make him wait in the truck? He grumbled lowly but did as he was told--for now.

Grandma hopped out of the truck and headed to the building beside the dock. “Right, boys. The usual deal?” She looked up at the two much taller birds.

“Actually, the arrangement is going to be a little different. The boss is here today and wants to change some things,” one of the seagulls explained. He directed a hand to the door of the building.

Elvira’s eyes narrowed as she proceeded to enter. She had a feeling their “boss” was up to something. “Well, you old bastard, what do you want now?” she growled.

Scrooge sat behind a desk in the office, lazily puffing a cigar. “Me? Nothing,” he replied. “The price stays the same for you. I just need to know why you require so many of these generators. Powering a whole city up there, are you now?”

“You keep selling me crap I need to keep replacing. That's why,” she lied somewhat. At least two previous generators she had to mod and repair herself.

“You haven’t found anything interested in that cesspool, have you?” Scrooge inquired, shifting and turning his chair halfway around. He looked out the window at her truck.

“Nothing you’d care about,” Elvira muttered, “and I prefer my home not be called a ‘cesspool’, thank you.”

“Why stay on a useless swamp that barely has any fertile farmland? You’ve always been hiding something. Before we can finish this transaction I need to know what that is,” Scrooge insisted, not turning back around.

“There isn’t anythi--” Elvira started to raise her voice but was interrupted by one of the seagulls practically throwing a familiar fourteen year old to the floor.

“Hey, boss, we found this kid snooping around,” one seagull explained.

“I wasn’t snooping around! I was literally standing at the rail of the dock looking out at the water, you idiot! I--” As soon as Grimstone started to get to his feet, he noticed the duck sitting behind the desk and froze.

Elvira momentarily took his sudden silence as him worried she was mad. “Grim! I told you to stay in the truck,” she said, walking over to her grandson. She stopped then, and realized the kid wasn’t upset. Something far worse. He looked panicked, terrified, frightened.

At the sound of Grim’s voice, Scrooge spun his chair back around, facing forward. His surprised look melted into an oily, insidious smirk.

“Well, if it isn’t my lucky charm. Wondered where you went off to. Been a while, hasn’t it?” Scrooge stood from his chair, cane in hand, and stalked around the desk.

Grandma Coot didn’t need to know the history between these two. Grimstone had a run-in with Scrooge at some point between his parents passing and joining the gang of kids, and it obviously had left the most painful scars. She quickly stepped in between the two, snapped, “I don’t think so. We’re leaving. Keep your generators.”

Grimstone, still stunned, went to join his Grandma. Before he could move, one of the guards grabbed Elvira from behind. She fought, fists flailing, before her arms were pinned down to her sides.

Grimstone backed up against the opposite wall.

“You’ll be leaving without the lad,” Scrooge explained. “Trust me, once you know what he is you wouldn’t want to take him with you.”

“Don’t you lay a finger on him!” Elvira growled and snarled. Though her arms were trapped, she furiously kicked back at the seagull holding her.

Scrooge could only chuckle as he approached the cowering boy. “It seems I made quite an impression on you.”

“I’ll go with you. Just please don’t tell her,” Grimstone muttered.

“Oh no, sonny. She needs to know what you are or else she’ll try to come get you. Like she used to try with all the other brats,” Scrooge taunted. He pressed his cane handle under Grimstone’s chin, just getting a whimper from the boy. He drew back the cane, bringing it down on Grimstone’s head.

Grimstone tumbled to the floor. He scrambled to get up, on hands and knees when Scrooge hooked his cane around his neck and violently yanked. The boy took a sharp breath like he had been drowning for those brief seconds. “Open up, and then I’ll let her go. Hm?”

At first the young duck didn’t do anything. His head was swimming. His mind jumped to the night Scrooge had exposed his secret to the rest of the family. To Matilda, the woman who’d taken him in, to all the cousins near his age. He lost everything after that, and he was going to lose it all over again.

Grim was brought back to reality when Scrooge pulled on his neck with the cane. He saw his Grandma fighting furiously to get out of the guard’s arms. He couldn’t let her get hurt, even if it meant losing the last family member he had on his side.

With a strained sob, Grimstone’s beak split down his cheeks. Past the orange and into the feathers, and down his neck appeared a row of teeth, opening like a second mouth. This was only a small glimpse of the truth, but he didn’t want to ruin the sweater his Grandma had so lovingly made him.

Though his torso rumbled, shifted, he made sure the extra toothy mouth opened wide on his bill and neck. He was sure Scrooge wouldn’t ask him to show more.

“See, looks like Daphne had a little monster. So, how about my employees load you up with two generators--no charge this time. Can’t say I’m not gener--” When Scrooge looked up from Grim to his Grandmother, he was in for another surprise.

Elvira had the same wide row of fangs split open past her cheeks. Not only that, but feathered tendril-like limbs were coming out each sleeve of her blouse alongside her arms. The fleshy vines grabbed around the seagull’s arms. With a squeeze and a bend, the guard had to let go. Scrooge’s cane was still hooked on Grimstone’s neck when the old mallard tugged on it again. The teen, while still consumed with emotional dread, was elated by what he saw.

His Grandma was like him? Why didn’t he realize that was a possibility before? His mother had been like this too. Not until this moment had he finally put two and two together.

“Oh, I see. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Scrooge’s voice seemed calm, “then, let's make another arrangement. How about--”

There wasn’t any negotiating, as Elvira’s tendrils wrapped around the stunned guard that was loosely holding her. She was able to lift his body with the monstrous limbs and toss the seagull right at Scrooge. Both crashed through the window and into the water outside.

Grimstone would have been dragged with Scrooge too, but spare tendrils held him tight, plucking off the cane.

Grandma Coot then grabbed Grim’s upper arm with her hand. She quickly made him run with her to the truck. One of her tendril’s was putting the key in the ignition and turning it while her hands checked the wound on Grimstone’s head. He had curled up on himself in the passenger seat, still not knowing what to make of the situation. By reflex, Grimstone stiffened and his exposed openings of teeth closed up.

Elvira gave him a soft smile before taking the wheel, tendrils retracting back up into her sleeves.

“I had thought Donald would inherit the curse. But of course it would be you. Looks like I have a lot more to teach you than just shooting,” she said, as if this was the only way she could comfort him. Accepting him. She hit the gas and drove off like a bat out of Hell.

Grimstone had so many questions now. Questions he was sure he’d get answers to later. That she was like him. He uncurled and got comfortable, easing back and relaxing, as if nothing was wrong. He wasn’t exposed as a monster, because she was one too. In that moment, strangely enough, it meant they were still family.

“So, uh… Can we still stop for that ice cream?”

------

Thanks again to @cataradical for beta ahhhh.

This came up with the prompt cuz I could picture my Nega Grandma duck saying 'Dreadful' to Scrooge with the same energy as that Kim Kardashian tragic gif. loool.

#duckvember 2020 #duckvember #gladstone gander #grandma duck #elvira coot #elvira duck #negaverse #scrooge mcduck #uncle scrooge

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