#but it just shows his blindness to his own state of sin. his own deadness. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

Note

hiii! i don’t know if you have done this but can you do a hotch x reader where they get kidnapped by tobias instead of reid? xx

4 Months

Warning: Criminal Minds level violence, drugs, torture, rabid dogs

Word Count: 3562

a/n: I decided to switch up some of the specifics, just to make it a bit more fun to read. I hope you like it :) Also, we're pretending Rossi was there bc he is really the father of the group and it fit better than having Gideon 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

"JJ, we have to split up." You barely looked back at her, missing the nervous expression on her face as you ran toward the cornfield. "I'll take the field, you take the barn."

You slowed to a brisk walk as you neared the cornfield, raising your gun in front of you. You couldn't help but think about how pissed Hotch would be if he knew what you were doing.

You shook off the thought, knowing he would do the same if the roles were reversed.

Spotting movement, you moved farther into the corn, trying to spot any signs indicating which way Tobias went. A bent corn husk was the last thing you saw before the world went black.

"He's not a witness. He's the unsub." Hotch's eyes went wide as he realized you and JJ were there without backup. "Call JJ, now." He instructed Morgan, taking out his own phone to call you.

Hotch's eyes met Morgan's as both calls went unanswered. No words were exchanged as everyone ran out to the SUVS, putting on bulletproof vests as they went.

Hotch was nervously tapping the steering wheel the entire drive to Hankel's house. He couldn't stop replaying your last conversation.

"Y/N, you and JJ go talk to Hankel. Find out if he saw anything." Despite his stern expression, you could tell his eyes were smiling at you.

"Sure thing." You nodded, mouthing 'I love you' before turning to JJ.

That's it. He didn't even have the chance to mouth it back. JJ would've seen, and even though the team has theories about your relationship, you haven't confirmed anything yet.

He pulled into the driveway, running up to the house, gun out before anyone could stop him.

Prentiss followed Hotch, Morgan and Reid took the left, Rossi and a local cop took the right.

They tore through the house, clearing it with fierce determination, but came up empty.

"It's clear." Rossi called, joining Hotch and Prentiss in the living room. "Where are Morgan and Reid?"

Hotch spared a glance out the window, discovering the barn likely being cleared by the missing agents.

Everyone ran out of the house, arriving outside the barn just as Morgan and Reid lead a distressed JJ outside.

"What happened?" Hotch questioned, glancing over JJ's shoulder into the barn. Clearly you weren't there, but he needed to hope.

"We split up. Y/N went into the cornfield... I had- I had to shoot them." Her voice was detached, eyes glazed over.

"The dogs." Morgan clarified, leading JJ to a paramedic.

"Dammit. The house is clear. No sign of Y/N or Hankel." Hotch ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his mind. The worry was nearly overpowering, but it wouldn't help find you.

The sheriff approached, removing his hat. "A deputy two towns over gave directions to a man matching Hankel's description. He's headed for a hunting lodge."

Morgan nodded to Prentiss. "We'll check it out."

Your head was pounding. A vile scent reached your nose, causing your eyes to flicker open. You flinched at the closeness of the man in front of you.

"Tobias..." The name slipped out in a whisper.

"They're not here. It's just me now." He stated, calmer than you would've expected.

"Who are you?" You asked, trying to portray a fake sense of calm.

"I'm Rafael." He pulled out a revolver, adding a single bullet to the six chambers.

"No. You don't have to do this." Your heart ached, fear gripping your body as he aimed the gun at you.

"It is my duty to enact God's will." He said, right before pulling the trigger.

Hotch pulled back into the driveway, leading Garcia into the house.

"His computer setup is in there. If there's even a hint of where they might've gone, I need you to find it." Hotch gestured to the back room.

Penelope nodded. Carrying her own computer bags, she followed Derek into the depths of the house.

"What've we got?" Hotch questioned those remaining around the table.

"He knew he could throw us off, pretend to be looking for a hunting lodge." Emily spoke quickly.

"We've got piles of information, journals, notebooks. We're still sifting through it all." JJ added, shirt still bloody from yesterday.

Just then, Reid rushed in from another room. "The walls in the bedroom, they are covered in the latin phrase 'honora patrem tuum', honor thy father."

"Garcia, look for anything you can find about his father." Hotch gave out orders, but his focus was elsewhere. What was happening to you?

"Over here!" Morgan called from outside.

The team ran around the house to see Morgan opening a cellar door. Nodding slightly, Hotch and Morgan made there way inside.

"Tobias Hankel, FBI." Morgan shouted, receiving no answer.

They quickly found the dead body of none other than Hankel's father. Even the new information did little to calm the worry brewing inside of Hotch.

"Confess your sins." He ordered.

"My sins? I don't have any sins." You did your best to hold back the tears, trying to figure out who you were talking to.

"Everyone has sins. Confess, and you will be forgiven." He stared you down, waiting for a response.

You simply shook your head, mouth slightly agape. The smell was getting to you. You couldn't think straight with the pain in your head.

"I- I don't know what-"

"YES YOU DO. CONFESS." He hit you, whipping your head to the left.

"Hotch, he took drugs to escape. Dilaudid cut with a psychedelic." Emily relayed the information her and JJ got from Tobias's sponsor.

"We've got something too. The dates in his journals don't add up. He was talking about his father as if he was alive months after he killed him."

"His father beat him, preached about sin." Emily replied, putting the pieces together alongside Hotch.

"Split personality. Profile the father. He could be the key to finding Y/N." Even just saying your name he felt his heart clench.

"Who are you?" You questioned him as soon as he walked through the door, trying to figure out who you were dealing with this time.

"Tobias." He moved about the cabin almost nervously.

"Who was here before?" You knew Rafael, but the other personality was a mystery.

"My father." Definitely the most violent. He was who you had to look out for. "I'm sorry if he hurt you."

Tobias looked over you newly forming bruises before pulling off his belt.

"No. No what are you doing?" You felt your heart rate increase as he wrapped the belt around your arm. You could barely register the words he was saying, something about escaping from the pain.

"Please. I don't want it. I'm fine." You begged, tears brimming your eyes. He ignored your pleas, injecting the drug into your bloodstream.

Despite how much you hated it, you felt the relief he was talking about. The pain was gone, even if just briefly. You thought about your time spent with Hotch. It didn't feel like long enough. You wanted more. You had so much you wanted to do with him.

"Aaron..." You mumbled his name between kisses. "They could see us." You did little to stop him, despite your words.

"We should tell them." He whispered against your mouth, holding you close. "They would be happy for us."

You sighed blissfully, forehead pressed against his. "Really? You know they've got a pool going to see when we'd finally get together. Who do you think had money on 4 months ago?" You laughed into his neck, pulling him closer.

"My bet's on Rossi. He knows us both too well." Aaron smiled, a full genuine smile.

"You're probably right, but just to make it interesting, I'm betting Reid. He's too observant not to have noticed." You squinted at the window, knowing Reid was staring at the closed blinds on the other side.

That earned a laugh, one you could feel in his chest pressed tightly to your own.

"I love you." He kissed your head, content to hold you for a little while longer.

"I love you too." You leaned ever farther into him. "We can tell them when we get back from this next case."

"Deal."

"Get in here!" Reid called from the computer room, pointing to a screen where you were being broadcast. You were handcuffed and tied to a chair, clearly beaten.

"Pick one to die." The voice of Tobias could be heard, despite him not being visible on the screen.

You shook your head, staring into the camera. You wanted to plead for Hotch to save you, but you knew it wouldn't be fair. He didn't need that on his conscience.

"Choose one, and I will free another."

You shook your head again, trying to think of a clue you could give the team. "I won't let you hunt them like a poacher."

"Now. Or I will kill them all." He threatened, lifting you from the ground.

"I'll pick who lives." You stuttered, breaths coming fast and short. "The right screen."

You were forced to watch as he turned off the camera, leaving the screens to show the heinous murders he was about to commit.

Suddenly, Rossi was talking to you through the screen. The sight of him nearly brought you to tears.

"Y/N. This isn't your fault. None of it. You can't blame yourself. We will find you, but I need you to be there when we do."

You knew exactly what he meant. You were already blaming yourself, despite Rossi's father like relationship with you, it was hard to believe him.

It did give you the strength to remember the team though. You needed to see them, all of them, again.

"He's back!" Morgan called everyone in to view the screens again.

"Confess your sins." They watched as he beat you.

You cried. You begged him to stop. You begged Tobias for help, but nothing worked.

Hotch felt his heart break even more with every word.

Suddenly, you were on the ground, still tied to the chair. You were seizing, Charles Hankel watching as it happened.

The screen went dark, causing Hotch to punch the desk.

"Dammit." He shouted. He didn't care if his worry was beginning to poke through the surface. He needed to find you and he needed to do it now.

"The timestamp." Emily's voice drew him out of his head. "There's only a few minutes between the time of death and when it was posted. He's got to be close to the crime scene."

Finally. Something that felt like progress.

They watched the screen as you appeared again.

"Choose one to die." It was Rafael this time.

"I can't. I can't do it." Your face betrayed every emotion you were feeling inside.

"Pick one." He stated again.

"Me. Kill me." You nearly begged.

"You said you weren't one of them. Your team has 7 other members. Choose one of them to die."

You shook your head, fear gripping you once again as he pulled out the revolver.

"Choose." He connected the gone to your forehead, resting it there.

"No." He pulled the trigger, watching as you flinched.

"Choose." You shook your head, tensing as he pulled the trigger again.

Hotch felt his heart in his stomach, internally begging you to just say a name. He couldn't watch you die, not like this.

"Choose." He pulled the trigger yet again at your silence.

"I won't do it." You held firm, knowing you had limited chances.

"Choose one to die."

You opened your mouth, panting as an idea came to you.

"I choose... Aaron Hotchner." Your heart ached even saying it, but you needed to give him a clue. "He's a classic narcissist. Thinks he's better than everyone. He'd go to his grave knowing he was wrong." You winced internally, trying not to give away your plan.

Hotch left the room, trying to understand your words. The two of you had just argued about the definition of classic narcissism.

"I think you're wrong." You laughed at his amused expression.

"Yeah? Or do you just like making me exasperated?" He questioned your motives, pulling you closer as you laid in bed together.

"Maybe a little bit of both." You shrugged, leaning up to kiss him. "Promise me something?" You asked, a nervous expression on your face.

"What?" He looked at you with so much concern, you felt your heart beat a little faster.

"If... If I die, you can't blame yourself." He opened his mouth to protest, but you kept going. "I know you Aaron. You'd take it to grave thinking it was your fault. I can't let you do that. Not when I know you blame yourself for Haley's death." You felt your heart break for him and the pain he had been through. "Promise me." You were nearly begging.

"I promise." He whispered, his throat tight at the idea of losing you.

He was brought back to the present by the sound of Rossi's voice.

"Hotch, you know Y/N didn't mean any of that." Rossi tried gently, unsure of how Hotch was coping with your situation.

"I'm not a narcissist. What's my worst quality?" He looked at the apprehensive looks everyone was giving him. "I'll start, I have no sense of humor."

He nodded along as his team listed his faults.

"None of you said I ever put myself above the team, because I don't. Y/N and I just argued about the definition of classic narcissism." He paced, trying to put it together. "I'd take it to my grave... Grave was a hint."

"What? How do you know?" Reid shook his head, trying to understand the logic.

"I made a promise. It's a long story." He shook his head, trying to clear the memory so he could focus. "Y/N knew I would remember it."

"A cemetary. It's got to be a cemetary." Morgan added.

"No cemeteries on the map." Garcia was typing away on the computer.

"Like a poacher." Reid whispered, staring at the screen.

"Reid?" Hotch looked at him, eyes pleading for an answer.

"That's what Y/N said in the first video. 'I won't let you hunt them like a poacher.'" He said it louder, more excited than before.

"Garcia, any reports of poaching in the area?" Hotch asked, the idea of finding you causing hope to erupt in his chest.

"Yes, at Marshall Parrish... and there's a cemetery on the grounds." She gave them the address, watching as they ran out to the SUVs.

"I'm sorry." Tobias said it so softly, you were almost certain you didn't hear it at all.

"Wh- why?" Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, trying to make sense of it.

"He'll win. In the end, he always does." He rose from the crouched position, slowly injecting you with more drugs.

"Hotch!" You screamed, feeling arms restraining you from behind.

You watched as he went into the hostage situation, unarmed and without a vest.

"Derek. Let me go!" You struggled in his grasp, straining to get free.

"There's nothing you can do, he's already inside." He stated the truth, although it did little to calm your nerves.

You settled down, throat tight with worry. You bit your lip, eyes flitting between the door and windows. You just needed a sign, anything to say he was alright.

The sound of a gun firing stunned you. You were frozen in place, fear consuming you. You had just told him you loved him for the first time this morning. What if you never get to say it again? What if that's all the time you got.

You stared in horror as everyone ran toward the house, only to freeze when a voice shouted everything was fine.

"It's fine." He huffed, carrying the small child out of the house toward a waiting EMT. "Baxter is dead."

"Aaron..." You whispered the name, realizing how powerless you felt when he was in danger. The two of you made eye contact across the yard, a reassuring look in his eye.

"Aaron..." You whispered, blinking rapidly as you slowly came to.

"What about Aaron." Charles. Tobias's dad was back.

"I couldn't stop him. I couldn't keep him safe." You muttered to yourself, not fully understanding the situation.

"Is that a confession?" He asked, voice hard.

"Yes." It was more of a breath of air than a word, but it was all he needed to condemn you.

He unlocked your handcuffs, forcing a shovel into your newly freed arms before dragging you outside.

"Dig." he instructed plainly, watching over you as stray tears wet the ground beneath you.

"Clear." Morgan called from one side of the shed.

"Clear" Hotch replied from the other. With the whole team in the small space, it wasn't exactly necessary but it was habit.

Hotch could feel his nerves picking up again as he realized this meant you were still with Tobias. He paced back and forth, feeling powerless.

"Spread out. They have to be on foot." He left without waiting for a response, turning left with JJ to look for you.

You did your best to stall, but Charles wasn't the most patient.

"Dig faster."

"I'm trying. I'm trying." You whimpered, movements speeding up ever so slightly. The massive knife in his hands causing your own to shake.

"You're weak. Move." He huffed, throwing his jacket to the ground before ripping the shovel from your hands.

A flash of light in the trees caught your eye. Flashlights. Your team. Aaron.

Your eyes flickered between the man in front of you and the trees, causing him to turn.

You took the split second he wasn't looking to grab the gun from his jacket, swiftly aiming it as he turned back to you knife raised.

"Only one bullet in that gun." He lunged for you, falling backwards after you pulled the trigger.

You dropped the gun, quickly tossing the knife away.

"Tobias?" You cried, moving back toward him.

"You killed me." He seemed surprised, but grateful at the same time.

You felt the tears pouring down your face as you apologized.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry." You grabbed his hand, watching the light fade from his eyes as he asked one final question.

"You think I'll get to see my mom again?"

You barely registered the arms around you, pulling you to your feet. You couldn't take your eyes off of Tobias. He wasn't the one who hurt you. He helped you, or at least tried.

"I killed him." Your breathing picked up, vision blurring.

"Y/N, look at me." You turned to the voice, blinking rapidly to stop the tears.

"Aaron?" You took a stuttering breath, trying to make sure this was real.

"I'm here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe now." His words were just as reassuring to himself as they were to you. You caught JJ's eye over Hotch's shoulder, quickly moving to hug her.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I never should've-" You cut her off.

"None of this was your fault. It was my idea to split up. I'm so sorry." You cried into her shoulder, knowing how guilty she must've felt.

She hugged you back, tears brimming her own eyes at seeing you alive again.

She lead you to the EMT, not commenting on the look you threw over your shoulder at Aaron. He quickly followed you to the ambulance. JJ left you to talk to Hotch, who stayed beside you the entire time the medics looked you over.

"I didn't mean it." You said when you were finally alone, sitting between the open doors of the ambulance.

"What?" Aaron questioned, his mind not following your own train of thought.

"When... When I had to choose. I didn't mean any of it." You could feel the tears coming, but this time you did nothing to hold them back.

"I know. I knew the whole time." You brushed your tears away, looking you in the eye. "I love you so much." He whispered, his own eyes feeling watery.

"I love you too." You leaned into him, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you. You couldn't help but look over at the team, all of whom quickly pretended not to be watching. You huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, I think they're going to have some questions." Hotch smiled, glad to see you happy even if just for a second.

"After this case, right?" You looked back at him, confirming you still wanted to share your relationship with the team.

"Deal." He smiled, arm tightening around your shoulders to pull you closer.

You couldn't help but bring it up on the jet ride home.

"So, who had money on four months ago?" You questioned, tucked into Aaron's side on the couch.

"What?" Emily raised a brow at your sudden statement.

"That's when we started dating." You grinned at her shocked expression.

"Dammit Reid." Morgan huffed, handing over the money.

"Don't forget Rossi!" Reid high fived the older man, the two grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Looks like we were both right." Hotch smiled into your hair, trying to hide his laugh.

"Yeah. We make a pretty good team." You smiled, leaning into his touch.

"I love you." He murmured, face still in your hair. You turned your face into his chest before responding.

"I love you too."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

#aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch xy/n #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #hotch fic #hotch fluff #hotch one shot #hotch angst

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shoutogepi · 5 years ago

Text

Shinsou Says

Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 5k

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : sauce alert !!! dom!shinsou, (shy)sub!reader, quirk use, teasing, dirty talk— kitten dynamics w surprise daddy

bio : Shinsou comes over in the dead of the night to find you touching yourself without permission, and he immediately has the perfect punishment in mind.

author’s note : i.. i’m not sure where this came from tbh cuz i’m not much of a shinsou fucker but… these days he has just been hittin different 😳😅

side note : usually i use the first name for bf smut, but a part of me really just wanted to keep the alliteration with Shinsou Says/Simon Says so deal with it lmao

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄰 breathy sigh floats from your lips as your back arches off the mattress, the sheets beneath you damp with sweat. The blankets at your feet are spilling off the edge of the bed, a crumpled pile of havoc collecting on the floor. You can’t help but writhe and moan, your fingers prodding gently against your clenched walls.

The clock on the other side of the room flashes red numbers at you, reminding you that it’s much too late to call your boyfriend over. You’d gone to sleep at a reasonable hour, but you had awoken in a sweat and in the most lustful state, very much craving his touch. However, you’re aware that he has a demanding profession, and to bother him into coming over just to fulfill your wanton needs— you couldn’t possibly bring yourself into sending him a text.

The moonlight streams into your bedroom through the cracks between the blinds, illuminating the area in a soft white glow. Your phone casts a dim light in the darkness of the room, your headphones twisting as your body squirms around. The intimate video he had taken just a few sessions ago lighting up your screen, his heavy breaths fill your ears as your fingers slide across your sopping core. Teasing yourself, dipping the digits in two knuckles deep and rubbing your walls for a moment before taking them back out, trailing north to touch your clit.

You close your eyes, letting your memories take over and attempting to replay the feelings you know he can give you. Coaxing your body into recalling how his smooth palms feel as they hold your legs open, his wet kisses trailing around your torso and spending extra time on your breasts. Fuck, the thought of him whispering those nasty words he always says as his nimble fingers delve into your heat.

It’s no wonder you don’t hear the front door open.

Shinsou steps into the dark apartment, the light from the hallway licking against the wooden floor in contrast to the shadowy room. He frowns, taking the spare key out of the doorknob as quietly as he can. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to come over unannounced in the middle of the night? But after such a long day and a hopeless few hours of attempting to sleep, he’d found himself briskly walking the couple of blocks that separated the two of you. He told himself that all he’d wanted was to slip into bed and wrap his arms around you… but then again, there was the raging hard on he’d been sporting for the past hour.

All doubt leaves his mind as he hears a soft moan leak out from your bedroom, his ears almost physically perking in interest as he hurriedly takes off his shoes. He tries his best not to make a single sound, silently padding across the floor towards your door.

He can hear all the noises tumbling out of your throat now, your unrestricted whimpers of pleasure making his fingers itch with prickles and warmth rush through his body toward his pants. The door is cracked just shy of allowing him unnoticeable entrance, and he can’t help himself as he slides into the room, cringing as the hinges squeak in protest. But you don’t notice him at all, his recorded groans stopping your ears from picking up the alerting noise.

Shinsou is glad you hadn’t heard him, because the look on your face is damn ethereal. Your features contorted in rampant euphoria, he watches your hands slide along the body he adores so much, sucking in a breath of air as your lips part and let out a particularly heavy moan.

“Ugh, Shinsouuu.”

His pants suddenly feel incredibly tight, and he licks his lips, shifting his weight between his feet. The noise of your fingers plunging into your wet cunt falls heavily on his ears, making him bite his lip. Fuck, how long have you been touching yourself for? And is that your homemade sextape playing on your phone?

“Ahah— you feel so fucking good!”

Your cries throw him over the edge, his body moving before his brain can process the command. He’s at the edge of the bed in three strides, menacing over your oblivious figure rolling against your own hand.

“My, my, kitten.”

The gasp that rips through you sends a cocktail of dread and desire washing through his bones, your eyes flying open to meet his predatory gaze.

“Shinsou!” This time you squeak it out almost shamefully, your fingers flying from your pussy and landing flat on the bed next to your hips. The embarrassment thrown over your cheeks makes him gush on the inside, but all that surfaces to his face is a smirk. His eyelids are hung at half mast, his watchful violet eyes regarding you.

“Ah ah, don’t stop on my accord darling. You’ve got me quite invested in this show of yours,” he tantalizes, knees falling atop the plush mattress.

A whimper escapes you, your eyes shutting briefly at the tone in his voice. You can feel the bed dip as he slides closer to you, tugging the headphones out of your ears and disposing of them next to the pillow above you. He hangs his body over yours, hands so teasingly close to your skin.

“Did you hear me, kitten? I said, keep touching yourself,” he demands, his voice level and clear.

Your eyes still screwed shut, your now clammy palms rub on the sheets, mortified to have been caught committing such heinous acts of desire. “I— I can’t, Shinsou, it’s too… I’m so embarrassed,” you whine, brows drawing together as you wiggle slightly underneath him in distress. The friction of your thighs rubbing together makes your arousal spread, coating your skin with slick.

His lips only pull back further, grinning down at you joyfully. “What d’ya mean, kitten? I should be mad you were being naughty and playing with yourself like that, but knowing you’re so desperate for me…” he leans in closer, lips grazing the sensitive skin on your jaw as you throw your head to the side. “Well, what kind of hero would I be if I left my kitten all alone, knowing she’s in such distress?”

His words make a moan of shock and want slither out of you, your back bending and pushing your body against his. Your purple-haired boyfriend really has quite a way with words. Your fingers meet his knees, gliding up his lean, muscular thighs and dragging your fingernails along them. “Please, I— god, I need you so bad,” you plead, hips adjusting as you look at him again.

His eyes are drinking you up, traveling over your sinful pout to your hands on his legs, and then to that glistening pussy of yours that he just knows is fucking soaked. “Mmm, let’s see how I can help then,” his lips greet yours forcefully, passionately engaging them in a desperate dance. His hand slides under your curved back, dry fingers curling along the damp skin in contrast, his dull fingernails sending shivers to your spine. He pulls away and grabs the hand that had been in your cunt, capturing your gaze as his lips rove over your fingers. His mouth taking them in and lathering his tongue along your skin, he savors the tangy flavor of your desire with an intense look.

“You’re too embarrassed to show me how you touch yourself, baby? Why so shy?” His words only make you impossibly wetter, and your lip trembles as you mewl softly in response.

Shinsou accepts the noise as a reply, tilting his head slightly as an idea comes to mind. He sits up, his hand sliding up to the center of your back and taking you with him.

“Do you wanna play a game, kitten?” His inquiry has you curiously regarding him, trying to see if there is any ill intent lingering in him. But you can’t find anything, only being sucked into his ravenous eyes. He presses further, wanting to convince you more than anything to play along. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

You do trust your boyfriend after all— he’d never misguided your desires before, always satiating your every need. So you find yourself nodding again, arms wrapping around his neck hesitantly.

The grin on his lips makes your heartbeat quicken.

Shinsou’s hands cup the backs of your thighs, scooping you into his arms as he slides off the bed. He steals your focus away as his lips cover yours again, his tongue roaming along your bottom lip. You gladly allow him entrance, and you jump slightly as your ass touches the cold wooden floor. Peeking up at him, your breath stops in your throat at the preying look in his eyes.

“We’re gonna play a game called Shinsou Says.” You let out a moan immediately, your hand flying up to cover your lips a second too late. The pure action makes the man chuckle, his hand giving your ass a playful squeeze. “You familiar with it?”

Simon Says— you’ve played it before. Maybe back when you were younger… but you have a feeling that Shinsou’s game is going to be a lot nastier than your past experiences. This could go either very right, or very wrong. “Yeah…,” you trail off, wondering what your boyfriend’s intentions are exactly.

As if he can see the lingering wariness in your eyes, he continues. “I’m gonna tell you what to do, and you’re gonna follow my commands. If you follow my instructions without me saying ‘Shinsou says’, the game is over and you lose.”

“Is there a punishment for losing?” You ask, maybe a bit too quickly because his lavender eyes glint at you with hunger.

“Not really… you just don’t get the winning prize.”

Interest piqued, you look at him expectantly. “Well tell me what it is already!”

“The prize is my cock, baby.” Your eyes widen and fall to his lap, regarding the sizable tent in his pants. “You’ll be rewarded kindly if you show me that you can be a good girl for me. I can’t just forget that you were touching yourself without me, like a little slut. Prove to me you’re my good girl.”

Fuck, he’s a good talker. His words sound so tempting, and if you play the game, he’ll be murmuring those intoxicating desires into your ear all night. You straighten your spine with confidence. You can prove that you’re a good girl.

“If you wanna stop at any point, you’ll be able to. Just say the word and we’ll stop, okay kitten?”

Even though your lip is between your teeth, you nod once again, the idea of the game appealing to you. If you just follow his instructions, it doesn’t really count as touching yourself… right? It can’t be as embarrassing...

His pleased smile is enough to make your lungs rattle with anticipation. His hands land on your waist, his fingers massaging the flesh there tenderly. “Shinsou says, turn around.”

You were planning on following his command, yet your body finds it already acting on its own accord. A tight feeling of excitement and a shred of fear bubbles in your chest, realizing that he’s using his quirk on you. He’s never used it on you before, and in all honesty, you had been wondering when he would finally man up and test it on you. When you finally turn, you aren’t expecting to find yourself in front of your floor length mirror, and your cheeks immediately flush with a telling red.

His quirk is interesting— it doesn’t feel intrusive, more like your movements are the true desire of your limbs and he is just oiling you up into performing them. This already exceeds your expectations.

You hesitantly observe yourself in the mirror, looking at the slick glaze that drips down your inner thighs. Shinsou follows the action, sitting behind you and sliding his hands under your thighs, parting your legs widely and trailing his fingers along your skin. You lean back into his chest, getting comfortable and licking your lips.

“Shinsou says,” he grumbles into your ear, watching your reflection as your pussy clenches at the words, “cup your breasts and gently pinch those nipples, kitten.”

Your exhale is shaky as your fingers collect the heavy flesh, your palms gliding along the sensitive skin. You whine as your fingertips roll the perky buds, your actions not your own but delighting you nonetheless. Your hips roll slowly in the air, shutting your eyes and tossing your head atop his broad shoulder.

“Sensitive today, are we?” His low chuckle draws another whimper from you, and the luscious noise only spurs him further. “Wow, I’ve never seen you so fucking wet before. Look at yourself.”

You keep your head where it is, an almost pained look washing over your features at having to keep the game in mind. Shinsou’s quirk is absent in your hazy mind, not pushing you into performing the incorrect action.

“Hmm, what a clever kitten I have,” he purrs, fingers running along your skin. “Now— Shinsou says— look at how soaked you are for me. And don’t you dare look away.”

Your head turns and your cheeks feel on fire as you take in your reflection, as well as the haughty smirk resting on Shinsou’s lips. Your eyes travel to your sex, and you stop breathing as Shinsou’s lithe fingers inch toward it. They delicately land along your slit, the tips running between your petals teasingly. They brush over your clit for a moment, almost mocking you as they disappear from your core completely.

“Shinsou says, touch yourself like I just did, and keep at it, too.”

Even with his quirk guiding your movements, you find yourself wanting to follow his commands. You arch into his chest, whimpering as your nails give your swollen cunt a different sensation. Your fingers just as gentle and teasing as his had been, your lust skyrockets as your touch ghosts over your clit again. You sigh, watching how your actions cause your cunt to flutter in anticipation.

The action does not go unnoticed by Shinsou, who seems delighted by your telling body. His dick is achingly hard, but the premise of the game has him holding back. He wants to push you into becoming comfortable touching yourself like this. In front of him. He wants you to see how beautiful you are when you spread yourself for him like this, how you have nothing to hide.

“Shinsou says, ease your middle finger inside that drenched cunt for me, baby.” Your finger slips into your hole, pushing all the way to the knuckle and whining when your own digit doesn’t reach as deep as you want. As deep as Shinsou’s fingers can reach.

“Please, Shinsou, fuck,” you moan, your eyes still glued to your pussy. Your finger just sitting there inside yourself, your hips shift in order to find more stimulation.

“Now fuck yourself with it.”

You cry out, your finger still frozen in your pussy. What a tease! It’s not fair, this game is too cruel. Anguish washing over you, you glare at his reflection.

The anger rolling off of you makes him laugh, but he closes his eyes, leaning in to start pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses on the column of your neck. “Shinsou says, finger yourself, kitten.”

Your finger immediately starts moving, curling in and out of your slick cunt with fervor. The pad of your fingertip pressing intently, your body shivers at the sudden stimulation. “Ahhh~ Shinsou!”

“Shinsou says, add another finger.”

The familiar stretch makes your legs shake, your back pressing into his chest. He continues his assault on your neck, but his hands leave you in favor of stripping off his jacket and his shirt. His wild purple locks shift as he pushes your body into his naked skin, collecting your thighs in his hands once again.

His teeth nip across your collarbone, tongue washing over the reddened skin in a soothing manner. “Wish those were my fingers in your pretty pussy, kitty cat?”

The filthy words he utters make your already prominent blush intensify, your legs straining against his grasp. All you can do is moan, enjoying the stimulation your fingers dutifully provide. You meekly choke out, “More, please— I need it!”

Shinsou considers your dissolute request, watching the way your fingers thrust into your throbbing hole. You’d never been so desperate before, and he wonders again how long you’d been touching yourself before he’d arrived. Gauging how eager your actions are, he attempts more foul play. “You want more? You nasty slut. Go on then, rub your clit for me.”

Your hand jerks to complete the action but immediately you gasp and slap it back down against your thigh. Your breath is shaking, your fingers pressing faster into your cunt. You look at Shinsou with pleading eyes, a mewl croaking out of you.

The bastard raises a purple brow at you, leisurely returning to kissing your neck. “Aha, that was cute, kitten, I’m impressed.”

The pleasure and the build up from his taunting words send bolts of pleasure through your body, and you begin to feel your orgasm building once again. Frantic for more of his touch, your body wriggles with urgency.

He sucks in a tight breath as your ass grinds into his crotch, your body begging for his touch. “Shinsou says, stay fucking still.”

Your body freezes harshly on its own accord, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull as Shinsou’s hand creeps down your pelvis, his fingers sliding along your own that are halfway in your pussy. He lubes the digits up on your excessive arousal, sliding the pads back up to massage your clit.

“Fuck!” You clench around your fingers at the novel sensation, and your eyes nearly shut as his other hand grabs your wrist, pushing your digits back into yourself.

“Shinsou says, tell me how that feels, darling.” His fingers on your nerve won’t quit, and the other hand shoves your fingers into your twitching cunt at a rapid pace.

Your jaw is slack, words unable to be voiced as your eyes dart between his arrogant smirk and his heavenly hands. But your body is not your own, and the words that come out of your mouth make your embarrassment increase tenfold. “It feels so fucking good Daddy!”

His movements halt and you let out a broken wail, your impending orgasm vanishing without a trace. Your wide eyes meet his in the reflection, both of you in shock at the term that he’d summoned from you.

You are his kitten, that had been established pretty quickly into your relationship. But he’s never heard such a scandalous term dare to come from your lips before.

It has him feral.

It happens so quick, you can’t even gasp as his hand closes around your throat.

“Daddy, huh?” His gaze on yours is like lava, molten desire oozing out of him so forcefully you can almost hear the crackle and sizzle. His other hand roughly shoves down his pants, thumb ripping his briefs southward.

His long length slaps his pelvis and although you cannot see it, your body shivers in excitement, ready to be split in two and filled to the brim. Your fleeting shame now crushed by your overwhelming famine for him. “Please,” you beg, the excitement of it all too much.

“Daddy’s perfect kitty-cat,” he groans, yanking you to sit up so you’re on your knees, thighs shaking. “You want Daddy to fuck this slutty little pussy? Huh, kitten?”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy— Please!” You’re practically groveling with the words that come out, like a delirious prayer on your lips.

The hand on your neck slips back to fist the hair at the base of your skull, and he shoves you forward roughly so your hands fly out to catch yourself. Tugging on the hairs, he forces you to look at your reflection up close, your knees propping your hips up to the perfect height.

Your heart thuds in your rib cage as the head of his cock glides along your glassy entrance. A growl rumbles in his chest as he watches your strands of slick stretch as he takes his cock away, connecting your cunt to his length as if tempting him to just shove it in.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, making your eyes open and lock onto his. Your ass lowers so the tip brushes along your folds again, and you pant desperately as he grins at you. “You’re my sweet little kitten— all mine. Got it?”

You nod again. Words are just so hard to come by tonight.

His hand that isn’t on your hair slaps your ass abruptly, eliciting a loud moan from you. His fingers dig into the reddened flesh, his tongue running eagerly underneath his teeth. “Now, Daddy says…”

Your lip trembles, pussy fluttering as you look at him once more.

“Make yourself cum on my cock.”

He doesn’t need to activate his quirk this time. Your hips smash downwards, your cry and his moan filling the room as you take every inch of him, his hard cock spreading your tight walls with ease. You don’t allow yourself to accustom to his intrusive size, immediately bucking your ass upwards before slamming back down.

Shinsou’s eyes roll back, his hand laying still on your ass as you bounce on his dick, stealing his breath away. Fuck, the feeling of your steaming cunt squeezing him so well— it makes him want to dominate you.

His thick cock hits just the right spot deep inside of you, and your wetness drips onto the floor beneath you in excess. You can’t help the unabashed moans and cries floating from your lips, your twice-denied orgasm already coming back and making its presence known.

The purple-haired man notices your imminent climax too. The sounds that you’re releasing, and the way your cunt grasps his length so desperately— it's not like you’re hiding it very well. His hand claps across your ass again, and a snarl leaves him at how you clench on his cock in response.

His hand leaves your head, making your face drop and your chin drag against the floor. His hands dig into your hips, spreading your cheeks and forcing your hips onto his with purpose. He thrusts upwards as your ass crashes down, soliciting the most delicious shriek from you. Shinsou groans, forcing a pace that repeats the action so swiftly your body hums and bright stars dance along the corners of your vision.

“Did you fucking hear me, kitten?”

Your eyes open blearily, tears dotting your lashes at the sheer pleasure he’s causing. His expression is malicious, slitted eyes glaring at your mirror image, as if tempting you to follow his command.

“Daddy says, he wants you to cum.”

The pressure in your stomach heightens suddenly, so much that your jaw drops and your legs shake, your body tightening up. And then you’re orgasming, cunt squeezing the life out of his cock and thrashing on his hips in ecstasy.

His hands only tighten on your hips, and his pace does not dwindle as he plows into you with ease. The continued stimulation on your g-spot makes a trail of drool run down the corner of your mouth, your eyes rolled back all the way. The persistent tempo of his thrusts draws out a string of unintelligible pleas from you, and he finally stops to give you a second to catch your breath.

Your body melts into a puddle on the floor, the forced orgasm having taken a startling amount of energy from you. Shinsou gives a tentative thrust, a soft whine dislodging from you. Wrapping his arms under and around your thighs with his hands landing beneath your ass, he pulls you off the ground, sinking to his knees in front of the mirror. He spreads your legs mercilessly, lowering your body and sinking his cock into your aching cunt.

“Mmmmph, Shinsou,” you whimper as you’re struggling for words, your body feeling a confusing mix of heaviness and lightness. Your mind is still foggy, trying to readjust after your orgasm has devastated you so harshly. You body hadn’t had enough time to prepare itself, Shinsou had just ripped the orgasm out of you before it was ready.

Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, another mewl releasing as he pushes his cock inside again.

“Shh, shh shh kitten, don’t you worry. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you, just like he always does,” Shinsou breathes into your ear, sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering with renewed energy.

The moans just keep coming out of you as his strong arms guide you to sit on his dick, sheathing himself inside you all the way and then rutting his hips up into you to rub that spot that makes you quiver. Your head not as cloudy as before, your hand wanders to your breast and you tug your nipple with your fingers.

“Mhmm, doesn’t that feel good?” He inquires, dropping your body a bit quicker on his length. Your lips open in the shape of an ‘o’, your other hand trails down your thigh. “You wanna touch yourself, darling? Not so shy anymore, are you?”

You shake your head, licking your lips at the mirror before you. It displays the sinful image of Shinsou impaling you with his mighty cock, folding your body like a flimsy lawn chair.

“Daddy says, lick your fingers and rub them on your clit,” he orders, thrusting into you faster.

Your hand on your thigh instantly flies to your lips, parting them and shoving your fingers into your mouth. You moan as your tongue lathers the digits in your spit, making Shinsou bite down on the tip of your ear and growl. Your body lurches as your fingers meet your clit, your entire core tightening at the added pleasure. “Fuck! Shinsou, ahhh— I— ughhh,” you can't stop the groan that slips out, your overstimulated g-spot sending euphoria rushing through you with every thrust.

“Ready to cum again, kitten?” He pesters, the tension amplifying in his stomach. Just the game had him all riled up, and now, after your intense orgasm and displaying yourself like this… well, he’s getting pretty close himself.

“Yes, please just… give it to me, Daddy,” you whine, your body bracing for the impact of another orgasm. With no control over your fingers on your clit, all you can do is accept the sparks zipping through your limbs.

Shinsou drops your hips to meet his as they buck upwards at a rapid pace, the breath in your lungs being stolen as you fall off the edge, your second orgasm slicing through you. The pressure alleviating from your core, your lips part and a long whine tumbles out. Clear fluid spurts onto the mirror and the floor as you tremble against his slick chest, cunt tightening and spasming violently.

Shinsou lets out a suspended groan, the image of your release splashing out of you combined with the feeling of you gripping his cock so forcefully coaxing out his orgasm. He fills your womb with warmth, his grip on your thighs weakening.

The room is filled with ragged breaths as you both remain in a state of bliss, Shinsou’s length massaging your raw pussy as he slowly cradles your body against his. Your eyes are closed, your cunt throbbing and tingling with the aftershocks of your climax.

Shinsou presses feathery kisses onto the mauled skin on your neck. There’s a ridiculously dark and large hickey forming there, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn as he licks the bruising skin with care.

He intently watches a thick stream of white trickle out of your pink cunt and down his balls. Your body droops against his, exhaustion ebbing into your form. Shinsou pulls out of you and you whine as his heated cock leaves your trove, the stretch immediately being missed.

“How do you feel, kitten? You alright?” He asks, adjusting you in his arms as he stands, holding your body with discretion. He carries you over to the bed, laying you on the now-cold sheets.

Your overstimulated core throbs in protest as you shift, pushing the hair off your sweaty forehead. “I’m good, I'm just so tired… and I can’t believe I just—” you cut off, glancing at him with a slightly embarrassed look in your eyes.

Shinsou smirks, but the pride beams through his faux-suave expression. “Squirted? You sure did, kitten. And it was hot as hell.” He crawls onto the mattress next to you, his long arms encircling your waist.

Snuggled into his warm chest, you sigh in content, your body buzzing numbly from the lingering head-rush of your peak. He always knows what to say.

“You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you.” His words are soft and sweet now, warm and considerate. “You proved it to me, darling, you’re such a good girl.”

Your lips mould into a sated smile, which you press into the smooth skin of his muscular chest. Before you can slip away into a restful slumber, Shinsou’s fingers collect your chin, gently tugging it up so your eyes meet his.

“Good girls don’t touch themselves though, kitten. This time you were lucky I came over here needing you just as bad as you needed me.” He pulls you into a deep kiss, making your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers glide into his soft, amethyst tresses. He hums deeply, pulling back and stealing your gaze with a lazy yet ominous glower.

“But if I ever find you touching yourself again,” he pauses, lavender eyes twinkling with a refreshed carnality that makes you shiver, “Daddy’s gonna figure out just how many orgasms it takes to make you soak these sheets all the way through.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

thank you so much for reading!! I hope it was alright, as I said, I’m not well versed in the Shinsou realm heheh

make sure to let me know if you enjoyed ♥︎

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#honestly i have no clue how this came to be #one second i was looking at a picture #and then the next thing i knew i had 5k of smut typed HAHA #yikes #shinso smut #shinso fic #shinso hitoshi smut #shinso hitoshi fic #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou smut #shinsou fic #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha fic #mha fic #my fics

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solarwonux · 4 years ago

Text

10. “I still remember the way you taste.”

31. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

villain!wonwoo x superhero!f!reader

w.c: 2.6k (it was mistake okay I got carried away we should know this by now)

warnings: fluff, talks of death, ghosts, torture if you squint, graveyards, digging up graves (don’t do that yall), angst a little, it’s hinted that the reader can communicate with ghosts. (if you’re uncomfortable with any of these themes this one is not for you)

note: I CAN EXPLAIN OKAY I KNOW YOU WANTED JOKER WONWOO BUT LIKE IT STARTED OFF THAT WAY AND THEN I GOT SOFT. Enjoy let know your thoughts please, they mean so much to me.

Also i will answer asks at some point, school is just keeping me super busy, BUT IM NOT IGNORING THEM THEY MAKE ME SMILE EVERY TIME I SEE THEM.

masterlist || drabble game

Wonwoo wiped the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand, panting slightly as he stared down at the empty grave. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Vernon asked, digging his shovel into the ground with the heel of his boot. He rested his forearm against the handle looking at Wonwoo through his sweaty bangs.

“There is no reason, I was just bored.” Wonwoo shrugged, his cheeks were dusted with dirt and his white dress shirt was anything but white. The truth was he had a reason, he needed a way to meet you halfway and causing chaos was the only way to get you out of that shiny tower in the middle of the city where all the heroes resided. But his reasoning would never be voiced out loud, especially not to Vernon and so he lied like it was second nature to him.

Wonwoo missed you, He missed getting under your skin with his snarky remarks and idiotic plans to take over the world. Or at least the city. The world was his end goal, but in order to do that he needed to succeed at taking over the city first and so far he had failed. Mainly, do to you and your teammates interrupting his plans. Though along the way something unexpected happened. He had undoubtedly fallen truly, madly, deeply in love with you. It had annoyed him at first, his mind was constantly enveloped with thoughts of you. Interrupting everything he spent years working on.

It took him months to come to terms with his unwanted feelings and if he hadn’t snuck into the masked ball held every year at the tower; he probably wouldn’t have. But the second he saw you come down the grand staircase of the ballroom wearing a dress so blue, it put the night sky to shame; he kissed you before he could stop himself. Despite the mask he was wearing you had spotted him in the crowd and led him down an empty hallway when his urges got the best of him causing him to sin. When he pulled away he was shocked just as you were, but he was definitely floored when you had cut his apology short and kissed him again.

“So you decided to dig up an empty grave for fun?” Vernon pushed his dirt stained hand through his hand, leaving behind little specks of dirt in its wake. “How did you even know this grave would be empty?”

“It’s mine...well used to be mine. Obviously I’m not dead.” Wonwoo’s nonchalant tone sent shivers up Vernon’s back. Once again he found himself wondering why the hell he always found himself going along with Wonwoo’s schemes. He knew there was a reason. Wonwoo never did anything without calculating all his moves beforehand, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the true reason, more so if he was going to find out soon anyway. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught sight of you. He should’ve known that this was just another one of Wonwoo’s ways to get to you.

Vernon didn’t understand your relationship with Wonwoo, scientifically it didn’t make sense. In simple terms Wonwoo was hated by everyone and you on the other hand were not. But the two of you had snuck around for years up until the accident five months ago. Ever since then Wonwoo’s spirits were low and he was going mad. If he wasn’t holed up in his tiny room at the apartment he was bent over a desk mumbling to himself, trying to come up with ways in which he could see you again. All of Wonwoo’s attempts before this one had failed and to say he wasn’t surprised to see you sit down, legs hanging over the edge of the grave while looking down at Wonwoo lovingly, he would be lying. Though, he supposed it had to do with the fact that Wonwoo’s grave was dug up.

“You guys having fun there?” Wonwoo jumped. He rapidly smoothed down his shirt, leaving behind streaks of dirt, and fixed his hair before turning around. A smug smile adorning his features. Vernon shook his head and rolled his eyes. Sometimes he missed the days in which Wonwoo wasn’t in love.

“Princess what brings you here?” He winked. His clammy hands grew more wet as he leaned against the shovel, before it failed underneath his weight causing him to trip. Seeing you again was like a breath of fresh air, the pictures he kept of you and looked at every night did you no justice. For you shined brighter than the stars in the night sky and it always made Wonwoo’s heart skip a beat.

“Cut the shit Wonwoo, I know you’ve been turning this city upside down at least once a week to get under my skin.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? You haven’t been answering my calls, texts or emails.” Wonwoo threw his hands up in disbelief and you rolled your eyes at his ignorance.

“Apologize, that’s all you had to do and you wouldn’t be here digging your own grave...literally.” You huffed crossing your arms in front of you, ripping your eyes away from his. Suddenly the memory of the accident came lingering back. You knew, given his nature, Wonwoo was calculated. He used his powers to affiliate pain on his victims without moving a muscle to get what he wanted. Though, he had never used it on you, until that night.

He had been blinded by rage and pain and you had never seen him use so much power in your years of knowing him. It scared you and when you had tried to coax him out of whatever state he was in. He did the one thing he promised he would never do.

He used his abilities on you.

Wonwoo sighed before hosting himself out of the hole and taking the empty seat next you. “I wanted to do it in person, but you never showed up.” He looked down at his hands playing with his fingers, twirling the ring on his pinky. His body was consumed with guilt as your screams of agony replayed in his head. Just like they did every night. He had never once felt anything but satisfaction and bliss whenever he used his powers on someone. In fact he loved the way his victims begged him to stop, that was until you were on the receiving end of his torture.

“You know where I live. It’s a big shiny tower in the center of town. Pretty hard to miss honestly.” The airy playfulness of your voice made his stomach swirl. He truly missed you and not just on nights when the two of you gently explored each other's bodies, but just in general.

“I know but you know how much I hate the others, especially Joshua. He always has to stick his nose into matters that don’t concern him.” He huffed, flicking a tiny spec of dirt off of his trousers. “And I was scared.” He confessed lowly, shocking Vernon who had now taken it upon himself to sit on the soil filled ground to watch the spectacle in front of him. Wonwoo never admitted his fears and though Vernon sometimes could feel them radiating off him. It was different hearing it come from his friend's mouth.

“Of Joshua? Dude’s only got super strength and-”

“No of you. I was scared to see you suffer and to turn me away. I was scared that if I did show up putting aside indifference for your friends just to hear you say that you didn’t love me anymore.” Wonwoo let out a deep sigh at the ending of his words. He dropped his shoulders feeling the weight being lifted off them. He felt your body shake next to him and it confused him greatly, even more so when it was followed by your laugh. Though he loved it and missed it greatly. He couldn’t deny the anger he felt towards you as you laughed at his vulnerability.

Slowly, he felt his heart close up again and brought himself up to his feet faster than he could blink. His feet moved faster than the doubt racing through his veins and your laughter came to a stop.

He now remembered why he swore to never love again all those years ago.

“Wonwoo, wait come back.” You hurried to your feet, smoothing down the creases on your leggings. Vernon copied your movements. He could sense the fear coming from your body, and it overwhelmed his senses. Behind his soft eyes he quietly told you to hurry before Wonwoo did something he wasn’t supposed to. Even though Wonwoo always did without planning ahead of time, there were a few instances where he didn’t care and acted carelessly. And he found himself fearing more for your heart rather than his friend's safety.

You sighed tugging on the sleeves of your sweatshirt before turning around and ran after the only man you had ever loved. You passed many tombstones, silently paying your respects until you stopped in the middle of a small clearing, home to one familiar tombstone and Wonwoo. His hands in his pocket, eyebrows furrowed and his teeth chewing down on his teeth.

“After she died, I promised her I wouldn’t love anyone again.” He whispered, “but then you came along and ruined it.” He turned his head, his eyes glossy with wanted tears. “Do you know how much I beat myself up every day for what I did to her. For what I did to you. I hate myself for it, I hate that I can inflict pain on everyone else but myself because I’m not one that should be suffering, not everyone else.”

By now he had finally let his tears go. They raced down his cheeks rapidly and it shattered your heart.

“It hurts me that you think that way about yourself. She didn’t die because of you, you tried to save her and-”

“I was too late.” Wonwoo snorted and rolled his eyes. He stared intently at the tombstone in front of him, reading his little sister’s name over and over again, letting it burn feverishly inside his mind. He missed her dearly and sometimes he wondered why you never told him anything about the conversations you would have with her whenever she visited you. But you had told him that it was a family secret between the two of you and he never questioned you again because you had used the word family and it made him feel all giddy inside.

“Let me talk Wonwoo.” You said closing the gap between you and Wonwoo. You grabbed his face in your hands and wiped away his tears with the pad of your thumb. He had always been there to comfort you on your lowest days. His sweet words and warmth grounded you back onto the Earth, but you had never gotten the opportunity to do the same to him. He always kept himself closed off and reserved. It had taken almost a year into your secret, not so secret relationship for him to tell you about his sister’s unfortunate death and a few more months after that for him to say that he loved you. Despite all those small passing moments of vulnerability he had never once cried in front of you.

“I love you and you’re stupid for thinking that I would love you any less because of what happ-”

“I hurt you though,” Wonwoo cut you off, earning a ground shattering glare from you that sent shivers up his spine. “Sorry you can continue.” He whispered.

“Thank you.” You smirked and wrapped your arms around his neck, making him freeze. You were the strangest person he had ever had the pleasure in knowing because normal people would never be as comfortable as you were in his presence. “I know the kind of person you are Wonwoo, through this cold exterior there is the most loving and sensible person I have ever known. I mean, baby, you spent a whole day sulking because you forgot to water your plant.”

“You gave me that plant for my birthday, therefore he’s our child.”

“This is exactly my point, you have the biggest of anyone I have ever known. Unfortunately, you have been dealt a bad hand in life and I really don’t understand your obsession with taking over the world. But you’re not a monster.”

“I hurt people though, sometimes for fun.” He whispered against your skin. In the midst of your speech he had given in and circled his arms around your waist before burying his face into the crook of your neck. Leaving the two of you in an awkward and uncomfortable position.

“And who are those people?”

“Bad people.”

“Exactly baby, they’re the scum of the Earth and you have helped stop them.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t make me a hero. I’m just doing what you guys can’t do. On top of that Joshua’s super strength is useless, he only gets praised because he’s hot.” Wonwoo finished and raised his head, smirking. He sent you a playful wink, tears long forgotten, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Mingyu takes forever to get ready, but that’s besides the point. You’re not a monster so stop treating yourself like one.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?” He pouted batting his eyelashes at you.

“Yes you big idiot.”

“Then...why haven’t you kissed me yet?” He puckered his lips and made kissing noises, making you laugh. “Hey I’m waiting and you know I’m impatient.” He spoke through pouted lips as he leaned in closer, his lips hovered over yours teasingly until you finally caved and kissed him. He sighed happily against your mouth and deepened the kiss. He had spent five months without the feeling of your touch and it scared him that he would forget how it felt. Yet, now as he kissed you with everything in him he realized he hadn’t and it overjoyed him to the point in which he accidentally let out a moan; making you pull away quickly and eyeing him down.

“Control yourself, your sister, her friends and Vernon are here.” You scolded making him pout.

“I’m sorry, i just...I still remember the way you taste, and I got excited.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Before he could plant his lips on yours again he was met with your hand pushing him away. He whined as you tore his arms away from your waist, his body growing cold. “Nooo, one more kiss.” He reached out making grabby hands at you like a child. Instead of giving into what he wanted you turned and started walking away, “Wait, where are you going?” He stumbled against his own feet before following you.

“Home.” You looked over at him and stuffed your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie. “You have a grave to cover up with Vernon.”

“But I haven’t seen you in five months, just give me five more minutes please.”

“Wonwoo you just didn’t look hard enough baby.” You said giving him a knowing smirk before leaning over, giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek. He felt his eyes grow in realization as everything started to click in his head. If what you had hinted was the truth and you had shown up to every single sight he had caused trouble in, then he had to give it to you. You were a lot more clever than you led on. “Don’t think about it too hard, I’ll leave my window open for you.” You smiled widely giving his cheek a pat and disappeared through the trees.

“You live on the twenty fourth floor.” He yelled after you, his hands falling down at his side in defeat. He heard someone snort next to him and suddenly he remembered that Vernon was there silently observing everything, just like always did.

“Figure it out baby, you always do.”

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writing-red · 4 years ago

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The Onyx Ring | 6

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Chapter six of the Silver Letter series. It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings:

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: So, I am middle-eastern and I rarely find the opp. in fics for that to fit, and since I talk about family history in this chapter I wanted to make the reader’s ethnicity open ended. Just keep that in mind when the reader’s family history comes up. Also note that I made some changes here and in chp. 5 to incorporate titles because I can ;)

You spent Wednesday and Thursday holed up with Draco in his room healing. The wounds on your back pertinent and angry; the pain there to remind you of your sins against the family no matter what you did or what you took. Not only that but you knew the scars he left would last, layered atop the old. In order to gain some privacy, Draco had told Narcissa that you’d broken your leg and that you were just waiting on the potion to do its job, it usually took two to three days, so the lie served its purpose, and Narcissa left you both alone in order to allow you to heal. The entire time you virtually didn’t leave Draco’s bed, he’d go to your room if you wanted a book or a particular sweater, although admittedly, you were using the situation as an excuse to wear Draco’s. Zilsey would bring you both food and magically tend to your wounds so that Draco wouldn’t have to risk getting in trouble for using magic outside of school.

Throughout Thursday, you laid in Draco’s arms as he read your classic muggle books aloud to you, although you were keen on forcing him to read your favourite, Pride and Prejudice. Less because you wanted to read it, which you certainly did, but more because you wanted him to read it.

“‘Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.’

‘Which do you mean?’ and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.’” Draco paused after reading the section aloud

“Mmm,” you breathed as you looked up at him. “Why have you stopped?”

“Well, doesn’t he know that Elizabeth can hear him? I mean, that’s quite rude,” Draco huffed, and you giggled despite the pain it caused in your ribs.

“Draco, it is just a story,” you smiled, amused by his investment so early into the novel.

“Yes, but Elizabeth is clearly too good for him,” he said, still frustrated with the fictional Mr. Darcy’s actions.

“Merlin, I wonder how she feels,” you teased him, lightly referring to your own situation.

“I wasn’t ever this mean to you,” he huffed.

“Draco, don’t challenge me on this. As you will indeed lose. Now, unless you want such a lecture, I suggest that you continue reading,” you said playfully.

“Is that all I am to you, an audible library?” Draco asked, mocking pain.

“Yes, dear, that is the only reason why I lie here so that I can use you for that deeply, handsome voice of yours.”

“Fine then,” he said as he returned his gaze to the book. “Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings toward him.”

“Draco,” you interrupted, your voice plainly displaying that you were not paying attention.

“Yes?” he asked, looking away from the book again.

“Come here,” you muttered as you propped yourself up on your elbows in an attempt to get closer to his lips.

“Are you trying to distract me from Jane Austen with physical affection?” he asked, sounding as you had truly hurt his feelings.

“Just one?” you asked, “Then I will let my library get back to his very important duties.”

“Fine,” he huffed as he leaned down and caught your lips with his. The kiss was warm and pleasant, and it made you forget about your pain for a moment as you were happy to lose yourself in his soft lips. “Is that what you wanted?” He asked after you both pulled away.

“Precisely,” you said, an entirely satisfied smile gracing your face.

“Good,” he said, smirking, but glad to see you in such good spirits considering you spent most of Wednesday in and out of panic attacks and nightmares. It pained him to see you in such a state, yet it comforted him that he was able to be there for you through it.

You lowered yourself back down and laid your head on Draco’s thigh as he cleared his throat and continued reading. “She told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day reading, Draco pausing anytime he had questions or a vote of confidence for Elizabeth, becoming increasingly excited by Lizzie and Mr. Darcy’s interactions. While you continuously had to remind him that you did not intend on spoiling the book for him. You found it interesting how things had shifted between the two of you since just yesterday; you didn’t know that you’d had it within you to trust him the way that you suddenly did. You were sure that you would hate him till you were on your deathbed, and you had been determined to push away any feelings for him. Somehow you now found yourself laying in his lap, essentially trusting him with your life, your secrets, and your traumas, essentially handing your heart to him on a golden platter. And you were nervous to go back to school, that the petty drama, secrets, sneaking around, and lies would return to your relationship, but you refused to dwell on that for the time being.

Friday morning, while you were still asleep, Draco snuck out of bed to find his mother, he was determined to protect you from your parents, and after what they did to you, he didn’t want them back in his house. Aside from the wedding, he didn’t want them around you at all. He was sure that if he told his mum the truth about what happened, she would feel the same way. Draco dressed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where he knew his mother would be. Since his dad has been in Azkaban, she had stopped eating in the dining room instead, taking her breakfasts early in the kitchen.

“Mother,” Draco greeted as he entered the kitchen.

“Draco dear, how is Y/n’s leg?” Narcissa asked, setting down her copy of the Daily Prophet when she noted her son’s entrance.

“That’s what I was hoping to speak with you about,” he said as he leaned against the kitchen island. “Leave us, elf,” he assumed the traits he was raised to bear easily around his mum, and Zilsey quickly skittered out of the kitchen.

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Well, she didn’t break her leg mum, Wednesday when Sir Y/l/n pulled her away from lunch, she didn’t trip and break her leg, her father beat her nearly to death, he used the splitting curse on her, she had nearly bled out by the time I found her,” Draco explained. “Now, I don’t want either of them over again except for the wedding, and even then, I don’t want them having any contact or control over her.”

“Draco, it is not our place to interfere in the way William and Layah choose to discipline their children,” Narcissa said, hiding the pain she felt for her future daughter-in-law with complete neutrality.

“Excuse me? You’ve got to be joking! You should see her back; it’s been ripped to shreds by that bastard, she’s got a bloody scar reaching from her eye to the bottom of her face, and no potion or spell has been able to get rid of it,” exclaimed Draco in anger.

“Draco,” Narcissa warned, her voice remaining low and quiet.

“Don’t do that. Just because you can’t stand up for me when father reprimands me doesn’t mean you have to let the same thing happen to her.”

“Draco,” Narcissa repeated, her voice tighter this time, rising from her seat. “If her parents have decided that she has done something that demands scolding, then they will handle that as they see fit. It is not our place to interfere. And you shall not be referring to your future father-in-law with such language.”

Draco pushed the tears that were pooling in the back of his eyes away, he refused to show such weakness in front of his mother. “How could you simply turn a blind eye to this?” He questioned. When he was met with dead silence, he nodded, “I see, mother, I will be retiring to my room then,” he said, turning to leave.

“Before you go,” she said, stopping her son in his tracks although Draco did not turn to face his mother. “I expect you to propose to Y/n using the family ring tomorrow night as is expected in our families traditions, I believe you have the ring?”

Draco simply nodded in confirmation before striding out of the kitchen.

Narcissa remained standing with her head held high, only collapsing into her seat when she was sure that Draco was half-way back to his room. She pushed all thoughts of the torture you endured at the hands of your parents, her friends, out of her head.

When Draco made his way back to his room, he found you out of bed and nowhere to be found, which he thought to be a bit worrisome.

“Y/n?” He called.

“I’m in your closet,” you called, and he let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto his bed.

“It sounds like you’re feeling better,” he commented, although you could hear the distress in his voice.

“I am, it still hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before,” you said as you stepped out of his closet in a perfectly oversized white knit sweater of his and one of your pairs of jeans. “Although it sounds like you have something going on, does it happen to have anything to do with where you disappeared to this morning?”

“I just had a conversation with my mother,” he said as he dropped his head into his hands.

You sat next to him and put a kind hand on his shoulder, “do you want to talk about it, or do you want to go walk around the gardens?”

“Let’s get outside, the sun is out, and it’d be nice to show you around out there,” he said as he met your eyes and matched your smile, trying his best to put his conversation with his mum out of his head.

“Sounds lovely,” you said as you stood up and reached a hand out to him.

Draco took your hand and stood up, but before he really could think about anything, he pulled you into a tight embrace, only knowing that he wanted to hold you as close as he could.

The hug surprised you at first, taking you off guard, but after a moment, you felt yourself melt into his arms, your two bodies fitting perfectly with one another’s as if you were meant to hold one another. He rested his head on your shoulder and continued to hold you, you could feel his desperation, and you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t be the one to let go. Although eventually, he slowly released you, taking a moment to observe you and take in your beauty.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice now somehow lower.

You simply nodded as he took your arm in his and the two of you made your way downstairs and out onto the platform that led out into Malfoy Manor’s extensive and stunning gardens. Despite the beautiful spectacle displayed before you, again, you were affronted by a cold and unnatural thing. The gardens and mazes were filled with the darkest colours nature could serve, and overlooking them were statues of cruel-looking men whom you often found stalking around in the portraits within the manor, and each of their statues was accompanied by snakes and peacocks.

The two of you silently descended into the gardens, and Draco led you into the towering maze.

“I used to run around through here when I was little. I know it like the back of my hand,” he said as he led you down one of the forks in the maze. “I don’t think anyone else in my family knows it so well.”

“It’s intimidating,” you admitted, to which he responded with a nod. “This whole place is.”

“I think they built it like that on purpose,” he admitted, leading you down another twist in the path. “Apparently, the first Lucius of our family acquired the land, and when Queen Elizabeth I rejected his hand in marriage, he retired from court and focused on the building of the manor.”

“My great-grandfather burned any proof that our family ever fraternized with muggles, although I’m sure they were title obsessed back when they could be. However, I do know that our family didn’t come to England until 1889.”

“Our families certainly are interesting,” he said with a certain level of distaste.

Since your first year, Draco had proudly boasted that his family was better than so many others, something you had always despised about him. Therefore, it amused you to see him refer to his family in any way that didn’t display reverence. You would continue with the topic, but you were sure that the trees could hear you.

Draco continued to lead you through the maze until you found yourself in a peaceful little clearing covered in an assortment of small wildflowers, the clearing resembling a small meadow, and with the clouds gone and the sun shining, you found it to be particularly lovely. In the middle lay a blanket, a basket, and a series of foods and teas laid out.

You looked over at Draco once you registered it, “How in the world did you manage this?” You asked in disbelief of what was before you.

“House-elves are pretty crafty, Y/n,” he said, a proud smirk rising to his face, and you shook your head as you laughed.

He led you over to the blanket, where a floor pillow was situated amongst all of the treats. “Draco, this is too much,” you said as he sat down on his own cushion.

“Impossible,” he said, his smirk returning to his face. “Entirely impossible to be ‘too much’ when it comes to you, darling.”

The two of you broke into the expertly prepared food and tea as you continued talking about whatever came to mind, Draco complimenting you at any opportunity he found, about how the sun made your eyes sparkle, how he loved your laugh, and so on; and with every word he spoke to you, you found yourself falling further in love with him. His voice was a perfect melody you wished would never stop playing, his eyes twinkled when you were around, and he just had you absolutely entranced. And what was even better than watching his perfectly crafted hands pour you tea was watching him finally open up to you. For a while now, you had firmly believed that there was something more to him, that he was hiding his real self from you, and now you finally had proof. You planned on talking about it more when you got back to school as you were both afraid that the walls, the trees, and the paintings were listening in on you, but you were excited to see Draco Malfoy turn into the truly good person you knew existed within him. The person that existed out of his parents control.

As you finished eating, Draco placed all of the dishes into the basket before you, exchanging them for your still unfinished copy of Pride and Prejudice. Excited, you laid down with your head in Draco’s lap, basking in the sunlight, which you hadn’t seen since you left school, as he cracked open the book and begun to read. You only had a few chapters left, and you were quite excited for him to reach the end of the novel.

You listened attentively as he read; as always, you were able to refuse yourself the indulgence of listening to him speak, “Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Mr. Darcy’s indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much,” Draco read, turning the page and moving on to the next chapter. You cracked a smile, knowing that he would just adore what was to come.

“‘If you will thank me,’ he replied, ‘let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.’” you were excited by the joy and intention Draco was carrying in his voice, almost as if he had read ahead and practised, but when he skipped ahead a line, you knew something was up, “‘You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.’” Draco read as he delicately placed a silver ring decorated with curving leaves and set with a small amber gem in the centre on the top of your hand, which was resting lazily on Draco’s calf.

In contrast with the warm sun, the cold metal shocked you as you realised that he was using Jane Austen to propose to you. Draco closed the book while keeping his thumb in between the pages as to not lose your place. He looked down at you with a smile that rivalled even the sun.

“My mother is going to make me propose in front of your parents during Christmas dinner,” he admitted as you rose into a sitting position and twisted to face him, immediately making and maintaining eye contact. “I wish we could wait, that we could have more time but, I have fallen too hard for you to allow anyone to force me to propose to you, you don’t deserve it in the least, and this is a moment that our parents shouldn’t be allowed to control.”

You placed the ring between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand and then guided it onto your ring finger on your left hand. “‘Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances.’” You quoted the passage from memory in response to Draco, and as a way to say yes to his proposal. “Thank you, Draco, and I want you to know that if the situation had been different, I still would have said yes.”

Despite his bright smile, a tear slipped from the platinum-haired boy’s eye, startling you. You really hadn’t ever expected to see Draco Malfoy cry, even a solitary tear.

“Draco, dear, what’s wrong?” you asked as you wiped the tear away with your thumb, leaving your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Y/n, you’re being forced to marry someone who could get you killed,” he said, his voice lowering and becoming melancholy.

You sat up and turned to face him, taking his hands in yours, “It’s the opposite, you’re the one saving me from my parents. I don’t know what you mean,” you said, concerned at his sudden change in demeanour.

“He knows, he knows that I love you, and he’ll kill you if I don’t do what he’s asked me to do,” Draco said, his eyes cast down.

“Who, Draco?”

“Voldemort,” Draco whispered, barely audible. “He’s demanded that I kill Dumbledore by the end of the year in order to make up for my father’s mistakes at the ministry,” he admitted. “And if I don’t do it, he’ll kill you.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed what Draco told you, all of Harry’s theories finally making sense. Even more so, all of Draco’s nerves and mood swings over the year finally coming to light, why he had been so hesitant to admit his feelings for you, his possessive nature finally making sense.

“Y/n, you’re so good, such a good person,” he said as another tear slid down his cheek. “You are so much braver than I am. You were able to denounce all of this while I let them turn me into one of them.” You felt the pain in his voice resonate in your chest. “While I terrorised you and your friends, and even now as I plan to murder our headmaster, you continue to find a way to show me more kindness and love than I have ever experienced.”

“Draco, I love you, and you’re wrong. You aren’t them,” you whispered as you gestured to the manor. “If you were, you would have left me to bleed under my father’s boot. You wouldn’t have tried to protect me from him,” you said as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “I know that what you’re doing comes not from a place of evil but from necessity and that all will be right in the end because we will find a way to come out on the right side of the war. I promise that as long as we have one another, things will be okay.” You promised with all sincerity. “Now, the sun is setting, and it’s about to get frigid out here. I say we head back up to your room, and I finish reading Pride and Prejudice to you.”

“I thought that was my job,” he said, the smile slowly returning to his face.

“Well, I think that it is fair of me to want to cheer up my fiancé,” you said, matching his smile.

“Admittedly, I’ve wanted to hear your Mr. Darcy interpretation,” he teased.

“I don’t think it’ll be half as good as yours,” you admitted, glancing down at the ring on your finger, which wasn’t a symbol of the life you were losing but the love you were gaining. “Thank you for this, Draco.”

“Anything for you, my darling,” he said as he reached a hand out to you, which he used to pull you up to your feet and into a kiss in which you melted into Draco. His lips were still warm from the sun and so soft on yours. When he pulled away, you sighed from the loss of touch, yet also in satisfaction.

You collected the remnants of the picnic, along with the book, which suddenly held so much more value in your eyes, and you followed Draco out of the maze and back to the Manor. You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in Draco that you completely forgot about the other residents of the mansion. Although, you were swiftly reminded as when you entered through the large, French style, doors you were affronted by a stoic-faced Narcissa occupying the centre of the room, clearly anticipating your return.

“Good evening, Narcissa,” you greeted warmly.

“Good evening,” she returned coldly. “Glad to see that your leg is better,” she said despite the terrible red scar that now obviously occupied your cheek. “Since tomorrow is Christmas, and essentially our final day together, I have the day planned to the minute. Throughout the morning, we shall be finalizing wedding plans, which require both of your thoughts. Then Draco, you will have time to complete your errand before you return to get ready for Christmas dinner with the Y/l/n’s. Sunday, the two of you will pack and prepare for your return to Hogwarts. We start our day at precisely eight.”

“We will see you at the dining table at eight then,” Draco matched her tone, clearly unfazed by his mother’s sudden coldness, which had uniquely caught you by surprise. This was a side of the woman you hadn’t seen yet.

“Good night, Narcissa,” you said, trying to push aside your shock as Draco pulled you out of the entryway and upstairs to his room.

When you made it inside, Draco closed the door behind you and looked you dead in the eyes, “tomorrow, you don’t get a second of alone time with them. No matter what, I’m by your side.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” you smiled grimly, and he sighed in relief. “Now, lay down, dear. We have a book to finish.”

The two of you cuddled up into one another’s side as you finished reading the book aloud. To your satisfaction, just as you finished the book, Draco started prompting you to softly run your hands through his perfect platinum blonde hair, which in the days without styling or care had begun to curl into soft waves. At some point, you fell asleep with the light still on and your precious copy of Pride and Prejudice open on your lap. Yet, you slept that night without a nightmare or a negative thought, your mind and body entirely at peace wrapped up in Draco’s arms.

You awoke to bright morning light flooding into the room, which startled you as you still felt Draco by your side. You slowly drew yourself up and looked over to see Alexis, your wedding planner standing by your bed, assuming it had been her who had opened the curtains.

“Alexis?” You asked groggily, confused by her presence in your fiancé’s room. “Why aren’t you home? It’s Christmas.”

“Lady Malfoy asked me here,” she said. “She also asked me to retrieve you, miss, as well as Master Malfoy.”

You nodded, “we’ll get dressed and be down shortly.”

She responded with a bow of her head, then she swept out of the room, closing the door fast behind her.

“What in the world was that about?” Draco groaned, eyes still closed.

“Your mother sent the bloody wedding planner up here to wake us,” you said, in complete disbelief of Narcissa’s decision to do so.

“Mm-alright,” he said as he sat up, kissing you on the cheek before sliding out of bed.

“I’m going to slip into my room and grab a dress,” you said as you stretched out your arms before standing.

“Alright, darling,” Draco said as he disappeared into his closet to get dressed himself.

The two of you got ready relatively quickly, donning appropriately formal clothing and descended downstairs and into the dining room together, where Narcissa and Alexis were already talking, papers, linen samples, and photographs spread out amongst tea, fruits, and other miscellaneous breakfast items.

“Good morning,” you greeted as a polite way to announce your arrival.

“Oh, good, we’ve been waiting for you two,” Narcissa said, looking up as you entered the dining room. “Sit, we have a lot to get through.” While she wasn’t as cold as she was last night, she wasn’t the same kind motherly woman who had offered you her dress for your wedding.

You and Draco assumed seats next to each other as Narcissa occupied the head of the table and Alexis sat across from you. Immediately, you were bombarded with questions, confirmations that Draco liked the choices you had made last week, ornate changes Narcissa recommended, and series more decisions you had never considered went into wedding planning. Occasionally, you would lean over to Draco and whisper some joke or terrible comment into his ear, and he would have to stifle his laughter which inherently bothered both Alexis and Narcissa as they were suddenly convinced that neither of you was taking this seriously. As afternoon approached Narcissa dismissed Draco, much to your dismay you were left alone with the two women who buckled down on you the second he was gone.

Eventually, Narcissa dismissed you and Alexis, allowing you to go and change and for Alexis to finally make her way home. Although, you were convinced that she didn’t care about that, instead sticking to her oh-so-important schedule. You made your way up to your room, Draco nowhere to be seen, you slipped into your room where you found the black gown your mother had packed for this exact occasion; it even had a note on it that read, ‘wear for Christmas dinner.’ Not in any particular mood to disobey, you donned the dress. While it did not come with a corset, it was quite tight and held your core in as if it were one. After dressing, you sat in front of the vanity to don the face that would get you through the night. Despite the time you took on your hair and makeup, hoping you would waste enough time so Draco would be ready and you wouldn’t have to face whatever was downstairs alone. However, when you made your way down, you found both the entrance hall and the few sitting rooms to be empty, leaving you to admire the decorations that had gone up in the last hour you had been spending getting ready. Classical music was drifting through the first floor, and the decorations which were already there had been accompanied by more lavish ornaments circled throughout the space, which was almost entirely lit by warm candle-light. Had the manor not been another prison for you, you may have some capacity for admiration of its beauty.

“Oh, well, hello there,” you heard the sharp and twisted voice you hadn’t heard since the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

In response, you shot around to see Draco standing next to his Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange as they were standing in the entryway before you. “Lady Lestrange,” you said, bowing your head respectfully.

“Draco, this is the girl?” she asked her nephew as she crept towards you.

“Yes, Aunt Bellatrix, this is her, Y/n Y/l/n,” he spoke formally.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am. I’ve been told that you’re a great witch,” you said, your head still bowed. To say that Lestrange intimidated you was a grand understatement.

“Enough flattery, girl, it will get you nowhere,” she said as she circled you, inspecting you.

“Bella,” Narcissa greeted warmly as she descended the stairs into the hall.

“Cissy,” Bellatrix responded, turning away from you to greet her sister.

You used the opportunity to make your way to Draco’s side, Bellatrix’s appearance at the dinner, both shocking and nerve-racking. Having to deal with your parents was one thing; Bellatrix Lestrange was a whole other beast.

“Watch your mind,” Draco muttered in your ear as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “She’s a powerful Occlmens.”

You nodded in response, watching as the sisters greeted each other. “How were your errands?” You asked.

“Fine, we can talk about them later.”

“What are we waiting for?” Bellatrix asked her sister, clearly unaware of the plans for the evening.

“The Y/l/n’s, Y/n’s parents are set to arrive in a matter of moments,” Narcissa said. “Then it will just be the six of us, an intimate affair.”

Perfect timing as always, your parents popped into the room through the grand fireplace, green smoke billowing around their feet.

“Hello, Narcissa, Bellatrix,” your father greeted the two witches. “Happy Christmas.”

“Yes, Happy Christmas, William,” Narcissa greeted, her warmth and kindness suddenly flooding back.

“Bellatrix, oh, I haven’t seen you since the summer. How have you been?” Your mother greeted.

“I have been quite well, Layah,” Bellatrix said, a note of sadism to her voice. “Lovely to see you both.”

“Let us make our way to the sitting room. I know we have quite a bit to discuss,” Narcissa said as she eyed Draco, likely referring to the proposal he was meant to make.

Everyone followed Narcissa into the sitting room, sifting out to where they were meant to sit. You and Draco on a loveseat near the Christmas tree, Bellatrix and Narcissa sitting on armchairs adjacent to one another, and your mother and father on a couch together. As you all situated yourselves flutes of champagne appeared at everyone’s side.

“Now, Narcissa I know you said that we weren’t focusing on gifts,” your father spoke up. “But I was thinking, and since Draco is to be my son-in-law, I thought it would be appropriate for me to give him this.” William rose and crossed over to where the two of you were sitting to hand Draco a long, elegantly wrapped, box.

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said, accepting the box.

“Go ahead and open it,” your father said jovially as he returned to his seat.

Draco split the wrapping along the seam, leaving a black jewellery box, opening it he revealed a silver wizard’s watch, the one your father had given to William for his seventeenth birthday. You swallowed your shock, refusing to show the pain that echoed in your heart on your face. Yet, you weren’t surprised at your father using Draco as a replacement for what he killed.

“Thank you, sir. It’ll be an honour to wear this.”

William beamed, twisting his face into a nasty smile, “I’m glad you think so, boy.”

“How kind of you, William,” Narcissa piped.

“Actually,” you chimed in. “While Draco and I were out last week, I picked this up for you. It’s small, but I thought it’d be nice for you to have them for the wedding.” You made your way across the room to hand Narcissa the impeccably wrapped, tiffany blue box. “And Draco got something for you as well, mother,” you said, then walking to her to hand her the black velvet jewellery box.

“Darling, you didn’t have to do this,” Narcissa smiled kindly as she opened the box.

You returned to your spot next to Draco, taking his hand in yours.

Narcissa pulled out the drop pearl earrings, the smile remaining on her face. “Y/n, this is so sweet, thank you.”

“I’m so glad you like them,” you said, returning her smile.

Layah opened her gift, revealing a fine diamond and emerald decorated bracelet that fit into her jewellery collection well. “Draco, this was quite thoughtful of you,” she said, her lack of gratitude bothering you.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said, nodding his head.

“Well, this is quite boring, isn’t it?” Bellatrix chimed in. “It’s a bit of a drag.”

“Is that because no one got you a gift, ma’am?” you asked sarcastically, quickly taking on the ‘ma’am’ as you noticed the gravity of you using such humour in that room.

Silence fell upon everyone in the room, and you could feel your parents sharp glare fall upon you instructing you that you had made a-

A shrill laugh erupted from Bellatrix’s throat, interrupting the concern that fell upon your shoulders, “Oh, maybe I underestimated you, seems you’re not so boring after all,” she said, then continued to giggle, causing Narcissa and your parents to join in with uncomfortable chuckles and false smiles.

“I’m glad you think so,” Draco said, standing up from his spot next to you. “If no one minds I would like to steal this moment to do something quite important.” Once he received looks or nods of recognition Draco turned to face you, bending down onto one knee, he looked up at you and knowing that only you could see his face he shared a bright, kind smile you had only seen when the two of you had been alone. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, throughout our years of knowing each other, growing up with one another, attending school together I only ever imagined a life with you. When my mother informed me of our arrangement I was overcome with delight at the prospect of joining hands with another great Wizarding family,” You were not surprised by the loveless and prideful nature of the proposal, this was not for you, it was for your father and for his mother. Draco pulled out a ring, something dark, ornate, and clearly ancient. “Now, it is with great admiration for you and your family that I ask you to be my wife,” he said, looking up at you expectedly.

“It would be my honour to uphold the noble name of Malfoy, and therefore the name of Y/l/n, through becoming your wife,” you said, the acceptance taught to you, forced down your throat, word for word by your mother. While you accepted, Draco slipped the engagement ring onto your bare ring finger, the one he had given you yesterday residing on the opposite hand for the time being. As he did so light, polite applause filled the room.

“The two of you do make a handsome couple,” Narcissa smiled, and you couldn’t tell whether or not the curving of her lips was genuine.

“Absolutely,” your mother hissed. “Draco, we are pleased to be inviting you into the family.”

Accolades for Draco, for you, and for the two of you as a couple continued on until dinner was announced. Dinner itself droned on for hours, and drinks afterwards droned on for hours, you felt as if you were a puddle by the time the evening was over. As usual, you spent most of the night silently observing those around you, although Bellatrix would occasionally drag you into conversation in an attempt to read you. The dinner was like the lunch before and the dinner before that, and every, single, individual, societal event you had attended in your life. You yearned to return to Draco’s room fall into his arms and shed the night, the terrible forced proposal, and the stank of society from your shoulders. Eventually and thankfully you did, both of you quick to wish ‘Happy Christmas’ and ‘Goodnight’ to your parents as well as his mother and aunt. Then, of course, swiftly retreating to Draco’s bedroom. Both of you exhausted trading the confining clothing you wore throughout the evening for sweaters and pyjama pants, then collapsing onto the mattress and into one another’s arms.

The next morning you awoke first to find Draco’s arm draped over your torso, and his face nuzzled into your neck. You smiled, happy to see him so peaceful, and terribly sad that you would have to disturb that peace. You slowly started running your hands through his wavy platinum blonde hair, taking in how handsome he looked as he slept.

“Merlin, it’s Sunday, isn’t it?” Draco asked.

“Yes, darling, it is.”

Draco emitted a pained groan and curled his arms around you to pull you tightly into him, “that means I won’t get to hold you like this ‘till June.”

You giggled at his pain, “I’m sure we will find a way, Draco.”

“You know, this is the worst thing about you being a Gryffindor,” he said with distaste. “If you were a Slytherin we wouldn’t have this issue.”

A pleasant smile rested on your face, “Draco, we wouldn’t have this issue if you were a Gryffindor,” you countered.

“As if, Y/n,” he scoffed, you laughed again, and Draco was sure that your laugh could rival the brightness of the sun. He drew away from only for a second so that he could kiss you and experience that brightness for himself. The kiss lasted for a blissful moment before he pulled away to take you in for just a moment.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he said, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

You smiled up at him, “you’re too nice, Draco.”

“I am the complete opposite,” he countered and your smile widened.

“Come now, we have to get you packed,” you said, gesturing to his closet.

“Y/n, that sounds miserable,” he lamented.

“Darling, as badly as I want to lay in bed with you all day, I also wish to return to school.”

“Fine,” he said, dramatic as ever. “But only because I love you.”

“Thank you,” you said as you planted a swift kiss on his cheek before rolling out of the bed.

It didn’t take you long to get your things together since you didn’t bring much and because most of your things were staying at the Manor considering you were essentially moving in. When you finished, you helped Draco pack his things up, and you were sure to include some of his sweaters which you had come to love so much. After you were both done, you made your way downstairs where Narcissa was waiting.

You stood in front of the fireplace, excited to finally be leaving the terribly dark home. “Narcissa thank you again for having me. I am truly excited to return for summer,” you lied through your teeth, doing your best to make the statement as believable as possible. At the end of the term, you would go to your home for a day in order to pack up whatever you wanted to bring along with you to your new life. From then on you would reside at Malfoy Manor, at the very least until the end of the war, then it would be expected for you and Draco to live alone until Lucius handed the Manor over to his son. Unless of course, the war turned against Voldemort’s favour.

“Y/n, it was lovely getting to know you. I am incredibly excited for the wedding,” she responded and you smiled.

“So am I ma’am, and thank you for including me in so much of the planning.”

Narcissa nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

“Well, you two have a good semester, and Draco, please write,” she said as she brushed her son’s shoulder as many mother’s do.

“Of course, mother,” he said before turning to you. “Y/n, would you like to go first?”

You nodded, “thank you again, Narcissa.” And with that, you stepped into the fireplace with floo powder in hand, “Hogwarts!” You shouted clearly, disappearing in a green cloud with Draco not far behind.

To your surprise, you found yourself in Professor McGonagall’s office. You quickly became aware of your surroundings, and dusted the powder off of your jeans before stepping out of her fireplace and onto her carpet. “Hello Professor, I hope you had a happy holiday.”

“Thank you, Miss. Y/l/n, it was nice, quiet without Mr. Potter around to stir the pot,” she said as she looked up, a warm smile on her face.

“Well he is known for that, isn’t he,” you conceded, knowing you were often a part of the trouble.

“Dear, Y/n, your face, what happened?” McGonagall’s face twisting into concern as she noticed the still fresh raised red scar reaching across your face.

“Oh,” you raised a hand to touch the scar, having forgotten to come up with an excuse for the visibly wound. “Just a freak cooking accident, it seems I-I manage just as much trouble when I’m home as when I’m here,” you said, adding a fake laugh to try and convince her that all was fine, although you were sure she could read right through you.

“Y/n, if you need anything,” she said, her eyes falling on the engagement ring on your finger. “Please feel free to speak to me.”

“Thank you, Professor, I’m going to go unpack now,” you said, wanting desperately to get out of the awkward situation.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you in class Tuesday.”

You nodded, and swiftly left her office, making your way to the Gryffindor common room in the hopes of finding Harry, Ron, and Hermione, knowing you had a lot to explain. When you got to the common room, you were disappointed to discover that you were the first to arrive. You sufficed yourself to grabbing some food in the Great Hall, figuring if anyone was looking for you that would be an easy place to find you. However, your journey downstairs was swiftly interrupted.

“Y/N!” You heard Harry’s voice, and you turned around, excited to see your friend.

“Bloody hell, Y/n, what happened to your face?” Ron asked as you turned to face them.

“Seriously, Ronald?” Ginny scolded her brother.

“No, it’s fine, it was just my father,” you explained. The three of them knew plenty about your parent’s abuse.

“Merlin, he’s never-” Harry started, but you cut him off.

“I know, I’d really rather not get into it, it’s not like it’s a happy memory.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, scratching the back of his head, unsure of what to say.

“Holy shit! Y/n is that an engagement ring?!” Ginny exclaimed, rushing over to you and grabbing your left hand to examine your ring finger.

“Why don’t we go to the common room and we’ll talk about the holiday there,” you said firmly, uncomfortable having this conversation in the middle of a hallway.

“That's probably a good idea,” Harry said, and the four of you made your way back towards the common room, and for extra precaution, you went up to the boy’s dorm which was empty, and thankfully didn’t smell as it often did since the boys hadn’t had the opportunity to stink it up just yet.

“So, how was Malfoy Manor?” Ginny asked teasingly as you all found places to sit around the room, you and Ginny taking Harry’s bed; mutually refusing to trust Ron’s.

“Well to make a long story short, the scar was caused by my father finding our letters, and according to tradition, Draco had to propose to me with our families present, and with his family ring. So, they had him propose last night,” you explained. “Malfoy Manor is a terrifying place, but I have been before,” you thought, and you knew you couldn’t just say that Draco was assigned by Voldemort to murder Dumbledore which is why he had been acting so weird, but you weren’t sure otherwise how to explain to your friends why Draco acts the way he does, and that he really is a good guy.

“What did Malfoy tell your dad about the letters?” Ron scoffed.

“No, of course, he didn’t,” you bit. “My father just spies on me. Draco is actually the reason my father didn’t end up killing me, and he really isn’t such a bad guy.”

“I’m sorry, but there is no way we are talking about the same guy who terrorised us at dinner and announced to the entire school that you were snogging Harry just a few weeks ago,” Ginny countered, and Harry’s face turned beet red.

“We’re talking about Malfoy, I presume?” Hermione asked as she entered the room.

“Hermione!” you greeted her warmly, excited to see her.

“Hello everyone,” she said as she assumed a seat near you. “So, what did I miss?”

Ginny quickly summarised the conversation thus-far, "And I don’t trust Malfoy in the least,” she said, shooting you an irritated look.

“Well I do, and considering it is my life I have no control over, I think that I get to at least decide whether or not I trust him. Anyways he’s proved himself over the holiday, and that’s all that matters, eh?”

“I still think you’re marrying a Death-Eater,” Harry said, confident in his accusation, which you of course knew was correct.

“And what if I am?” you asked. “Harry I am also the child of Death-Eater’s. Not only that, but my parents made it very clear that if I don’t marry him, I’m dead. And wouldn't you rather, when this war happens you have someone on the inside with your interest at heart? Harry I would rather die fighting for a cause than fighting myself.”

Everyone paused for a moment, it was oftentimes easy to forget the gravity of the situation you were all in, but your words made your friends conscious of everything for a moment.

“You all know where I stand,” you said, your eyes were watering, but your voice was firm. “And I intend on fighting with you; I just won’t be able to do so by your side. I assume you already knew that.”

“We just always hoped it would somehow turn out differently, Y/n,” Hermione said honestly. “But of course we understand.”

“Then you’ll also understand that this is likely my last term at Hogwarts,” you said, your voice lower this time.

“Yes,” Harry said quietly.

“So you’ll understand why I want this conversation to end and why I just want to spend time with my friends?” You asked as a tear dripped down your cheek.

Ginny wrapped you in a hug, Hermione quickly joining in, and you wiped the tear from your face. “We love you,” Ginny muttered, and you squeezed her tightly in response.

“What are you two doing over there?” Hermione chided Ron and Harry, ignoring her own tears. “Get over here and join the bloody hug!”

The boys both shook their heads, trying their best to push back their own emotions and joining the three of you in the hug which was quickly turning into a dog pile.

“Anyways, Draco is on our side,” you breathed.

Part 7 - Coming Soon

Tags!

Everything - @sarcasticallywitty15 @fred-love-bot

Silver Letter - @hidejeon @Ravenclawgurl137 @unexpectedly-slytherin @missmercurymoon @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker@pillowjj@pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @oi-itsemily@lukehemmingslut831 @peachybeannn @lovebynorth@bubblesam06@voidnarnia @bethii1 @arthemis-o-negative@roseyrams@treestarrrrrrrr @streetfighterrichie @dreams-in-blxck @psychramt @dracofeltonmalfoy @weasleydream @rottenhexrt@daringvixon @thatguppienamedbae @lord-byron

#draco malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #the silver letter #red writes #arranged marriage fic #arranged marriage au

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freckleddoll · 4 years ago

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Reasons why Doll could still be alive

1. I’m still in denial

I compiled a list of reasons why I think that there is a possibility of Doll coming back in the future! Although I do think the chances are slim, given the fact that she hasn’t appeared in the Manga since 2009, which was 12 years ago. However, there is a handful of reasons from a story telling perspective of why it’s possible, and also a handful of inconsistencies between Doll’s death and all of the other Noah’s Ark Circus deaths. Very long post under the cut.

Starting with the most obvious, we never see Doll’s death actually happened, it’s ever only implied.

We don’t hear a direct command, it’s only implied that she died. This is “affirmed” a second later by Undertaker.

He laughs about how Ciel is hastily, and that he can not take back what he’s done, even if he regrets it later. However, this isn’t explicitly about Doll. We as the audience are made to believe that this is about her because we just saw the frame before, of Doll’s signature lollipop falling.

We have seen every other death on screen. We are certain to see each of their corpses, except for Joker, who’s death is confirmed by William T Spears earlier in the chapter.

This is placed conveniently, or dare I say, deliberately before Doll’s death. We see William and Ronald collecting souls only before Doll shows up. The only other Reaper we see in this chapter afterwards is Undertaker.

This is of course speculation, but I don’t believe that the death Undertaker is referring to here is Doll’s death. I think he might be referring to the massacre Ciel and Sebastian have basically just committed after being employed for this mission to save the children. This is something Ciel can not take back. But Undertaker never explicitly said Doll, in fact, he specifically chose the phrase “to hold each and every soul dear” which implies that multiple souls were lost. I don’t think he is actually talking about the Circus Troupe, Doll or Joker.

What could this mean?

I think we are purposefully being misdirected as an audience member here, and I believe that the decision to withhold the details of Doll’s death was deliberate. I believe that the narrative is purposefully withholding information that will much later in the story become important.

Another thing I’d like to point out is, why on earth is Undertaker here? His presence isn’t explained, other than to “affirm” Doll’s death. He is seen with a carriage, along with Charles Grey and Charles Phipps. Well this could tie back to R!Ciel, I think that it’s also possible that:

Doll is actually dead and the information being withheld from us is that Undertaker took her body to later use as a Bizarre Doll to mess with Ciel later in the series.

Doll was disarmed by Sebastian, and once they left, perhaps even believing Doll was dead, Doll was taken in by Undertaker and R!Ciel for revenge or something. I know this one is a lot more dodgy, but it’s the one I believe makes more narrative sense.

Now let’s move on to how this makes sense from a narrative perspective.

Obviously, Snake is still alive, and believes that his family is alive. He goes to Ciel’s manor looking for them.

Ciel offers Snake a position at the Phantomhive manor, under the guise that they are looking for Snake’s family. Snake joins him because Ciel is manipulating him here, telling him that Snake can essentially have a new family at the manor while looking for his old family.

I believe Doll is a big influence as to why Ciel makes this decision.

Ciel sees Doll when he looks at Snake, which seems to be painful for Ciel. He then goes out of his way to affirm that they were, in fact, bad people (perhaps to justify his own actions in his mind) but then goes back on this and claims that he believes they were good people as to manipulate Snake.

He wants to help them achieve happiness and give them the chance to atone for their sins. The question is, is Ciel taking Snake in to atone for his own sins or to manipulate Snake?

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. A crucial character that is being played in this scene is of course, Doll. In every single memory that Snake shares, Doll is center frame, or the person who was closest to him.

Doll is either takes up the most space in the frame, or she’s the one who is standing closest to Snake. Not even Joker is this present in all of the images, but she is in all of them. While we didn’t see this much play out in the actual Book of Circus arc (given that Snake had very little screentime in that arc anyway), we can infer from these images that Snake felt the closest to Doll out of everyone at the Circus.

We also aren’t just seeing his actual memories normally, we are seeing his memories in an emotionally charged state. While he is feeling highly emotional, the person he thinks of the most is Doll. This is not just him remembering her as being the friendliest or most open person to him, this is who he was actually closest with within the Circus.

Doll’s relationship with both Snake and Ciel are very important parts of both of these characters. We see Ciel soften and feel guilt when he is reminded of Doll, and we see that Snake and Doll were presumably very close because of this scene.

Also just some fun images that I felt like pointing out:

Doll is featured in this image with one of Snake’s snakes. There isn’t much of a reason to feature one of these Snake’s snakes, unless we’re meant to infer a connection between these two.

I’m not quite sure where this image came from, but look! Doll and Snake are sitting next to each other, and Snake has a little smile on his face, which as we know isn’t very common for Snake in this series. There are very few instances of him smiling. However, this is obvious in the anime style so it likely isn’t manga compliant it’s cute though.

They’re featured together in another image!

Now for Doll and Ciel of course:

Doll and Ciel are seen here lying together.

These two images are very important to me and I feel they both hold a deeper meaning. Now it’s time to talk about Ciel and Doll.

Of course, there is the eye symbolism. Both of them keep an eye covered up, because both are hiding secrets that they need to keep covered up. Both wear a costume and live under a persona (Doll’s Circus persona that hides her identity of someone who kidnaps children and Ciel’s Smile persona where he is hiding his identity of the Queen’s watchdog). Yet, both of them are drawn to each other despite their secrets and form lasting connections.

We also see Ciel reaching out to Doll, and Sebastian taking the lollipop out of his hand. He is literally taking her away from him and blinding him from finding her. He is concealing the truth?

Despite what her family says, Doll refuses to believe that Ciel is with the yard.

She draws the parallels between herself and Ciel right here! She literally said it herself! Both of them are capable of holding secrets, and despite what appearances may suggest, people are still capable of hiding things. When she says “but we” she is acknowledging that appearances don’t always match expectations.

However, she still believes in him, up until the very end.

Even up until this point, she was still willing to listen to Ciel, and denies it until she can’t anymore. She reflects on their time together, having believed that their friendship was real.

Doll finally accepts it and feels hurt, betrayed and angry. She tries to kill him after this. Instead of anger, fear or hatred, this is the face we see Ciel make.

He looks sad and tired. This isn’t the face of someone who takes pleasure in the idea of killing her. We see him feel remorse for Doll even earlier, like I pointed out earlier in this scene

This scene is what compels him to take Snake in, being reminded of Doll. He looks sad here, he looks remorseful.

But most importantly, there is this image.

This takes place in the Green Witch arc, meaning that he is still thinking about Doll, she is still relevant up until this point in the story.

This image isn’t necessarily him leaving behind those who impacted his life who have since died, though that is certainly part of it. As we know, R!Ciel is still alive which O!Ciel at this point was not aware of. This picture does not reflect the complete truth.

His last obstacle could be interpreted as the Circus itself, but Doll and Joker aren’t positioned together like Rachel and Vincent are. Doll is a distance away from Joker in this image, and her image is a different size than Joker’s, implying that they are two completely different obstacles. In my opinion, Joker represents the Circus as a whole and himself. He represents all the sacrifices he had to make in Baron Kelvin’s manor. He could even represent his trauma while inside the cult.

But Doll is a completely different obstacle. She represents a personal obstacle. She seems to have impacted him greatly, being an influence in what compelled him to take Snake in. She is also one of the only people in this series we see Ciel feel remorse for. She is important.

At this point, this is supposed to give us the conclusion to all of these stories and ideas. But as highly speculated by the fandom (and practically canon) the first Ciel we see in the image is actually R!Ciel who O!Ciel left behind at the cult, who we know is still alive. The first greatest obstacle and his last greatest obstacle. That’s symbolism right there, right?

But I don’t believe that Snake’s story has concluded just yet. His family should still be a huge part of his character and his motivations. If his story isn’t leading up to something, than I think it’s going to be a rather poor choice on Yana Toboso’s part. But as we know, she doesn’t just do things for no reason, I believe that a lot of this was intentional.

TL;DR: Because Doll’s death is never specifically seen on screen, because Undertaker seems to purposefully mislead us after Doll’s death (and because of Undertaker’s presence in the first place), because the promise of looking for Snake’s family who is pivotal to Snake’s character, and because of the importance of Doll’s relationships with both O!Ciel and Snake, I believe that there is a chance that Yana Toboso is planning on bringing Doll back into the story.

This is all speculation, of course. I’d love for it to be true, but it is still rather dodgy given the fact that Doll hasn’t appeared in the Manga in twelve years. I could definitely just suffering from hopeful thinking, but I would love to see our girly make a return. Perhaps with R!Ciel? But the idea of her returning with R!Ciel is an idea for another day and I might make a separate post about it sometime! Thanks a bunch if you made it this far!

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terrietont · 4 years ago

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Undertale: A life for a life

When Toriel accidently kills Frisk mid-battle, a devious flower takes control unwarely creating hope among monster-kind for all except one.

Chapter 1: Murder

Shaking, she washed the blood off her paws,It’s crimson red staining her fur. Tears ran down her face endlessly. She couldn’t stop them. There were too many. Her eyes fogged up, barely a blur left in her vision.

Her whole body felt numb as a lump caught in her throat.

‘This isn’t real...’ She thought. ‘This can’t be real!’

Her lips quivered as her breathing quickened. Short inhalations and exhalations, in and out moving at the speed of sound. Her heart was burning against her chest, as if it were about to burrow through her entire body and escape. The numb feeling enveloped her entire body but at the same time the pure and agonizing pain of her heart pulsed against her very soul.

She had done this.

Her mind wandered into dark corners as the water from the faucet continued to flow. Memories flooding back into the dark abyss of her now empty heart. Horrible memories of what she had done.

The boss monster held her breath as the she turned off the tap. She leaned her hands agains the sink, looking down at the floor. Her chest moving up and down slowly. The disbelief of the situation made her dizzy. A bellowing cry escaped the former queen’s snout. She held her wet paws across her face, sobbing uncontrollably.

Toriel kneeled down onto the floor, holding her face tightly, a deep pained frown. Tears ran onto the floor. Sobs accompanied with hiccups escaped.

She realized something horrific as she held her breath.

“I really am no better than him after all” she smiled almost feeling like she was losing her mind. A another wail of horror escaped.

The grief. The tragedy. The horror of what she had done.

It was all true. She had killed the child. The one child that had trusted her enough to call her “mother” and now they had to be buried next to the first human.

A red glowing heart. An aura of red enveloped it. She could barely keep her eyes adjusted to the blinding beams.

The soul was still in tact for now, soon it would crack and disappear. What choice did she have now?

Her paws merely lay under the soul as it hovered above them.

She placed the soul inside a basket-like container, it’s visual presence undetected.

The only proof she had to be seen were the tear stains across her cheeks and the shaking of her limbs.

“I’m a murderer...” she uttered. Toriel leaned her head in her hands, hiding her face.

Flashbacks of her battle with the child enveloped her brain. She couldn’t fathom what she really had done. All the emotional distress was beating her physical form into pieces. She thought she would turn to dust any minute now.

“Hee hee Hee” a voice cackled. Startled, she looked towards the origin of the laughter. It was a flower. A white buttercup with yellow petals and a wide sinister grin. The flower top sat, resting on a thin green stem.

“You really think no one would find out about this?” Flowey laughed with an evil smirk.

Toriel hurriedly got up from her chair and put her hands out in a desperate gesture. “No please it was an accident!” She cried. Flowey’s grin widened.

“Accident? Haha! I KNOW you did it on purpose to try and “protect” the child.” Flowey leaned closer towards the former queen. His eyes going black with white pupils.

“Now look what’s happened...” He began, his voice echoing with poison.

“They’re dead.” Horrifyingly, Flowey’s face managed to mimick a human skull shape.

Toriel tripped backwards, chair falling behind her. Tears began running down her face again.

“Spare me your self pity!” Flowey seethed.

“YOU did this. This is all your fault!” He teased. “And after you tried not to be like him...” Flowey cocked his head to the side with a mocking tone from his mouth.

The reality finally set in. Toriel fell to her knees. “You are right. I am like him.” She wept.

“What are you going to do now huh?” Flowey asked mockingly. “Are you going to continue crying until you dry out into a sobbing excuse of a queen?” His voice was laced with venom as he spoke.

“Or are you going to go to the Asgore and tell him you’re just the same as him and expect forgiveness?”

“Or what if I take the soul instead? You won’t have to worry about it at all!” Flowey laughed. At this point Toriel was holding her head in anguish.

Thoughts, grieving, worries, all of it was swimming around her brain. Her body felt numb.

“No no no no no no no no!” She repeated hysterically. “No NO NO NO NO!” Her tone began to darken, her eyes going almost pure white.

Flowey began to feel uneasy, whether it was the absolute state of Toriel or the fact that the temperature was begining to pick up in the room, he didn’t know. “Shut up already!” He barked at her angrily.

Memories came flooding back for the Queen. A son, a child... a tragedy. “No!” She cried, fire surrounding her this time.

“Asriel... I’m sorry...” She shuddered looking at Flowey. Flowey frowned, his eyes growing with anger. “Shut up! Don’t you dare use that name!” He barked angrily.

Toriel let out a light chuckle, tears running down her cheeks, her eyes now looking bloodshot.

“My child, do not worry”

Flowey growled, gnashing his teeth. “Shut up! Just shut up!”

The Flowey looked towards the basket where the human’s soul was kept in. Vines burst out from the ground as they grabbed hold of the basket, taking the red soul inside.

“Haha!” Flowey cackled evilly. He took hold of the soul in his vines. He smiled deviously.

However without anyone’s knowledge, the soul began to glow brighter, moving closer to the flower. Flowey looked confusedly at it before feeling a sudden burst of energy rush through him. As if it still had the child’s sentience from before, the soul itself had chosen Flowey as it’s host without him even trying.

The power of this determination, the most powerful soul Flowey had ever felt. It rushed through his non existent body so fast and strong he felt almost overwhelmed.

The flower collapsed, dangling from his stem.

This soul was amazing. A power unlike any other. This child was stronger than anyone he had ever seen.

Asriel Dreemurr’s emerald eyes lit up.

A paw reached out to the grieving mother who was on her knees, unable to focus on anything.

“Mom?” The sad voice called out. Toriel turned slowly. What she saw caused the flames to die out.

“Asriel...?” The words were dry on her tongue, as if she didn’t know what she was actually saying.

Asriel looked down at his paws in shock. “I-I- I’m-“ before he could finish he felt a hard squeeze around his entire body. The shuddering mess that was his mother embraced him tightly. The warmth and relief of the hug filled the prince’s eyes with tears.

“Mama...” he cried out soflty. “Mama!” Another cry as he held her tighter. “My baby!” Toriel cried with exasperation.

As he embraced his mother, he felt a warmth in his soul and heard a voice, soft and echoing yet strange.

“Hello” the voice spoke. “I’m sorry” they said soflty. Asriel didn’t know how to respond, especially with the grief of his mother holding him tightly.

“Where’s dad?” Asriel’s tone was more upbeat, but his mother’s reaction was rather downcast. “In the castle.” She replied, hiding her disgust.

“Can we please see him?...” Asriel asked soflty.

Toriel hesitated. She really did not want to see Asgore again, but for the sake of their child, she would swallow her pride and anger for now.

“If you wish, my child.”

Without being spotted, Toriel and Asriel made their way through the underground and towards the capital. Unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes were watching them from a camera view.

Alphys’s eyes widened. She nearly spat out her noodles all over the computer monitor. “O-oh my god! There’s THREE of them?!” She bellowed.

Asgore was busy minding his own buisiness, watering flowers.

“Dum dee dum” he sang.

Toriel entered the throne room, dreading the voice in front of her, whilst squeezing Asriel’s hand.

Asgore turned around surprised after hearing someone clear their throat to get his attention. “Oh? Is someone there?”

“Howdy! How can I-“ The king backed away a few steps. “Oh my...” he saw his son’s face, his Ex Wife’s patient smile. It all came flooding out.

“M-my boy...” Asgore weeped with a smile. Asriel ran straight to him, beaming with relief. “Dad!” The two embraced longingly. “Tori... you-“ Asgore began looking at the Ex Queen who was frowning worriedly. “Please do not Tori me Dreemurr!” She groaned exasperated.

“Mom please!” Asriel begged, holding tightly onto his father.

“I-I am sorry I just- how did-“ Asgore was at a loss for words, he didn’t know how his son came back, but he did. He was here and that’s all that mattered.

The horror stricken reality sunk into her. She tried to be angry, she tried to be dismissive and show no emotion but she fell to her knees yet again. Her sins were weighing her down heavily.

“I-I cannot take this any longer!” She cried. Asgore looked towards her, stunned and worried. “Toriel...” he uttered soflty.

“I have- I am-“ She hiccuped, feeling completely nauseated by the very words that she would have to say.

Asriel looked horrified as he realized what she was scared of. His soul. This soul... how did he get this in the first place?

He couldn’t remember and yet it was all about to be revealed.

“I have murdered...” Toriel uttered breathlessly. “

The king was taken aback. He couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. She had done something that he had done in the past to make her leave him? If he was unreasonable, he would’ve called her out, he would’ve been angry as to see she had taken the same path as him. But he stood there in shock, concern, fear. He loved her too much to let her feel the pain he had felt once.

“It is going to be okay...” He tried inching closer to her. Her eyes snapped away from him, pushing him back. “Get away from me!” She screamed. Unlike her usual anger towards him, this anger was a mask. A mask hiding pain and grief. This was an obvious mask it wasn’t to keep him away from her... it was to keep her away from anyone.

“I do not deserve your pity...” She seethed, her eyes turned away from him. Her fangs showed, angry and depressed. “After what I did” She began.

Asgore was confused now. She had said she was a murderer, but how so? Who had she killed? How was Asriel alive again? All of these questions plagued his brain.

“Please. You need to tell me.” He urged sternly, paws out in front of him.

“Take care of Asriel. I- I am going home” Her voice was meek and low. She had walked out of the throne room. Asgore desperately wanted to run after her, but he knew that would do more harm than good.

Asriel however was not going to give up so easily. “Mom!” He shouted.

He ran to her as her pace continued ever faster.

“Mom please!”

“Go away!” She yelled back, running away faster. Asriel was able to keep up, getting closer but remaining at a distance. “They know it wasn’t your fault!” He yelled.

Toriel stopped running and stood still, her face hidden from view. By now the two were by the caste hall, an eerie silence washing over them.

“I can feel their soul talking to me.” Asriel continued.

No response. “They say that... you have always been a good mother despite what you did today. They say they love you still”

Slowly, Toriel’s head began to turn back around. “Asriel.” She began.

“Asriel!” Asgore’s voice echoed towards the hallway. He rushed over to his son. “My son?” Asriel looked up at Asgore, glossy eyed. “Dad.” He murmured.

Toriel inhaled sharply and then turned and continued running. “Mom!” Asriel yelled out, a large white paw grabbing his arm, his other arm reaching outwards. “You must let her go, son...” Asgore sighed sadly.

“I’m sorry” he looked down at his child. Asriel’s breathing quickened. All he wanted was to have the family back together again, as happy as before. He was so tired of being a flower, he was so tired of being conflicted between two worlds.

Word got out that the prince of the underground was alive once more. The absolute shock and confusion swept over the citizens. How was this possible? Only Asriel truly knew.

“I hope the bed is as comfy as you remember” Asgore smiled down at Asriel who had himself tucked into his old bed. New home was less silent than it had once been.

“Thank you dad” he smiled in response. Asgore sighed deeply, smiling warmly. “If you need anything, let me know, alright?” The king looked over at his son who was making himself more comfortable in bed. “Will do” and with that, Asgore left the room quietly. His footsteps fading from earshot. Asriel stared up at the ceiling, his breathing slow.

“What do we do now?” He asked. A voice responded. “Are you awake?” A child’s voice asked in an echod trance. Asriel rolled his eyes. “Obviously.” He replied sarcastically. The child chuckled a little, the voice sounding less like a bad thought and more like some kind of weird guardian Angel.

“I just wanted to let you know... I’m okay like this.” The child’s soul admit. Asriel paused in thought for a moment. He couldn’t imagine a world in which living inside someone else’s body as a soul was a good outcome.

“Really, I am.” The soul spoke almost immediately after Asriel thought about it. The young monster’s eyes widened. “A-are you reading my thoughts?” He asked nervously. The soul chuckled almost in a naughty manner. “Maybe...”

Asriel groaned and lay on his side, ear squishing against the pillow. “Great... now I can’t even think without having my privacy invaded.”. “I promise I won’t look into anything personal!” The soul replied almost frantically. “You better not okay? I’m trusting you on this!” Asriel bit his lips.

“You can trust me, friend!” The voice replied, it sounded as if they were smiling as well. “Are we a team?” Asriel asked impatiently. “We’re a team!” The soul answered enthusiastically. Asriel couldn’t help but smile. This soul was warm and comforting. Although being invasive, he knew he was grateful for this soul, the soul that willingly gave itself to him. Why? He would never know.

#asgore dreemurr #asgore #toriel #undertale #asriel #flowey #frisk #fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #asgoriel #undertale au #tumblr’s formatting sucks #pardon for the paragraph mess #undertale: a life for a life

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papers4me · 4 years ago

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Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 7 (part 1)

Just to clarify, the only thing I didn’t like abt this ep is tohru, the rest is so good. kyo’s mental state is at its lowest & you can feel for him! ugh!, surprisingly akito’s own lid was so well-done!, Ren & shigure were epicly disgusting & fascinating!, kureno was so well-written, the final scene of tohru & kyo rightfully setting for the climax! Before moving on to the good part, I’ll quickly go over why torhu’s character was once again the most inconsistent character in the show:

Ep,6 ending showed us a completely broken kyo in full display in front of tohru, best furuba cliff hanger to date hands down, followup: tohru laughing, cooking & wondering if kyo is asleep!!!. Complete detachment & extreme insensitivity to what she witnessed earlier. Not an ounce of wonder if kyo is okay or if sth is wrong with him. Not a single inner thought of “ I hope he’s okay” or “ oh momiji don’t call him, He’s a bit tired” while flashbaking to his traumatized face. Honestly, all they needed to do was a small quick inner thought to connect the scenes. No need to write new scenes. Alas, Tohru’s complete lack of compassion struck me deep. I was told ep6 ending was an anime original scene, I don’t mind any diversion from the original since I don’t know the it, but those writers who wrote a complete new scene didn’t feel the need to transition from it to the rest of the manga? really? It’s hard to believe.

Choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after of kyo’s nightmare is not bad as it shows that nobody either care or know abt his issues, fair enough. However, choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after the PTSD in tohru’s own bedroom & not modifying tohru’s happy go lucky, let’s cook yay face to a realistic concerned expression is absurd! It really takes plenty from tohru as a character. This comes after tohru’s long awaited background ep which returns tohru back to square one.

Just last ep, tohru opened her lid in front of kyo & he comforted her, While she still yet to overcome her fears, she failed miserably in doing the only thing that she’s been doing since se01, ep1, being compassionate & thoughtful. Oh well, adding a light scene in the midst of kyo & akito’s dark sequence is more important than tohru’s character consistency & growth.

moving on from tohru~~~

-Kyo’s suffocation: (guilty or not, it doesn’t matter)

we get kyo’s nightmare really gave me chills & was visually well-done. it brilliantly conveyed the feeling of suffocation, blinding fear, & intensified trauma. The nightmare’s horror vividly showcases kyo’s deepest insecurities & trauma:

It started with his mother’s “ it’s not your fault” sth kyo craved to hear from her very badly. Yet, it contradicted her action: Choosing death over staying with him.

His mother brings salvation: the cat’s cage. The cat’s room parallel’s kyo’s real life at his parents house. In se01, eo24, kyo said, he wasn’t allowed to play outside or watch TV, while his bracelet ”handcuffs” were routinely checked by his mom. Just like a prison. His mom sentenced him in the new prison fitting for more horrible sins. The cat’s cage for the rest of his life.

While kyo looks panicked & horrified but on the verge to refuse, kyoko appears. “I won’t forgive you” solidifying his mom’s judgement.

They both warn him of the consequences of living & be forgiven: tohru’s death. Go on, kyo. Add one more victim to suffer in your behalf while you roam free. You might think that you can escape the cat’s cage but your hands remain dirty with blood. Others might not see the blood on yoyr hands, but YOU do.

Kyo is torn between being an actual sinner or a victim, between causing intentional harm or unintentional hurt, between being guilty or not. It all doesn’t matter & kyo knows it. What matter is the punishment has been going for years now & he’s tired, broken, lost & just wants it all to end. Death. Slow death in a tiny cage is so fitting for all the pain he caused others, for all the pain he suffered.

Kyo knows (a) suffering in front of tohru is hurting her. (b) Accepting her love will lead to hurting her: confessing of kyoko’s death. (c) Abandoning her is hurting her. (d) kyo knows that he doesn’t deserve her, not after he caused all this pain. (e) Above all, kyo can’t live with himself anymore. being close to her hurt so much.

-Akito’s lid: ( broken home & broken self image):

I must say they did an excellent job of presenting akito’s past! (a) It was a mixture of narration through (shigure & Ren), (b) actual animation of her parents causing her pain & traumatizing her (the scenes of Akira’s last words, her mom’s accusations), (c) Actual animation of the origin of her parents (Ren & Akira’s relationship), (d) akito herself confessing abt her pain in front of kureno. Tohru’s own lid on the other hands was presented through (a) excessive narrative with minimum animation (the grandpa’s endless exposition of tohru’s background quickly wrapped up), (b) no real animation of kyoko actually hurting tohru or how she did it, just again the grandpa narrating that kyoko “went away”. (c) tohru’s own self recall of her past being cut into pieces & divided throughout the ep, once after running from shigure & another in the sheet scene. Tohru’s ep wasn’t bad at all, it was good, but it was evidently shortened & summarized lazily. Oh well. What both eps serve is painting tohru & akito as foils of each other:

Both are attached toxicly to their parent. Tohru: kyoko & Akito: akira.

Both were welling to create a fake persona or an image that keeps this toxic love alive & cling to it no matter what.

Both hurt themselves the most & are struggling to let go of this bond.

Both have parents that hurt them. Akito: ren & tohru: kyoko, altho it is not clear how kyoko hurt tohru but kyoko is more a ghost than a real character.

Both cling to a dead object that represent their deceased parent. Tohru & the photo frame & akito & the box.

Kyoko existed to be this perfect mother with no sins, the character that tohru embodied to “fix” & “ heal all broken kids”. She lives only in memories. Even other characters think of her as this holy being. It is alluded Kyo seemed to know her as a real person who can commit mistakes, therefore, to kyo, kyoko isn’t an angel or a holy being. However, thanks to their encounter at her death & her “ I won’t forgive you” words, kyoko now is a haunting ghost to kyo. Akira on the other hand, existed as this sickly, pale & fragile head of the house, treated with so much aura & holiness. He died but his sins remain in how he raised akito.

Both must let go of their toxic bonds. Tohru of her deep attachment to her mom & akito to the zodiacs.

Both must learn to form healthier relationships.

However, there are striking differences between them! tohru never abused anyone nor attempted murdering someone by throwing’ em from a terrace, or locking them & torment them or stabbing them with a knife!! Tohru’s sin is torturing herself which by consequence tortured kyo, too. Cuz there’s is a theme of a loved-one’s pain is mine as well. Kyo’s mom hurt her own self & ended her own life. This resulted in her son’s years of immense pain, trauma & self-loath & similar suicidal tendencies, se0, ep16 “ I’ will yuki & then kill myself”, & se02, e9 “ mother, if only you killed me instead”. tragic.

Side Notes:

I will say this with a broken heart....... Tohru must learn to let go of.... kyo. She is suffocating him. Not on purpose. I want them to be together! so bad! they’re so perfect for each other, but also, right now is NOT the time for this. Kyo & tohru’s character issues is NOT abt romance. They have real traumatic issues that are hindering their growth as independent characters. Tohru’s growth might not be well-written or well-presented, but kyo’s growth is still not explored. Next ep is where his lid opened! it must be painful. A person suffering from extreme self-loath & suicidal tendencies shouldn’t be presented so lightly in favor for the love cures all fairy tale! PLZ! NO!

Tohru must learn to not repeat her mistake again & live only for one person. She must let go of kyo in order to gain kyo back. Right now, She can’t have him! kyo is suffocated by his own trauma & adding tohru’s guilt on top of it is devastating. I mean, This could go differently & kyo might accept her love on the spot, & tohru might save him again or sth. I can see this being going deeper or shallower depending on the desired theme. Which of furuba’s heavy themes will be given to climax?

why is momiji doing a rabbit burger? he’s not cursed anymore. I know he’s keeping it a secret, but I thought momiji’s whole growth was abt letting go of the past. he still identifies with the zodiac rabbit?

Ren is hella sexy! & her Japanese VA deserves an Oscar! The way she expresses sexiness, seductive, anger, hate, contempt, sarcasm, delusional screaming, pain! EPIC!

“I thought I was created to receive others contempt” ugh! this hurt, kyo.

Shigure’s line abt looking at Ren to fantasize how akito will look if she were allowed to be a woman, ewww!!!! hella disgusting! imagine sleeping wth someone & fantasizing abt her daughter or vise versa!

Honestly, this ep while not excusing akito’s crimes & abuse of others, it did paint her in a human light. I really don’t want her to end up with shigure. Akito’s whole life is abt misunderstood love. Give her time to discover herself. A guy who slept with her mom is never a reasonable partner even if he loves her for eternity. but oh well~

Shigure indirectly caused Isuzu’s near death abuse by Akito. all in his attempts to free akito from the curse. I love how disgustingly selfish he is. I remember his “ you mom told you to not interfere, kagura” in se03, ep3. shudder!!! if hiro never met haru that day & confessed to him, if kureno never noticed the maid! Still, he went & visited isuzu after her 4 moths imprisonment in the cat’s cage her hospitals discharge & recovery!

ngl... Shigure & Ren’s sexual tension is the biggest in furuba. Eww!

I’ll talk abt kureno & akito more in part 2. but I felt nothing watching kureno get stabbed lol. this is due to the trailer spoiling it & the ED having him happily in love -_-’. bummer!.

I love tohru & kyo’s outfit in the ep cliff hanger. lol. Tohru really dressed up to confess.

Tohru read the room! Even if you magically forgotten how sickly & out of it he was in your room earlier, remember this: Kyo always have bad mood in the rain! Then again... he did hug her for the first time & called her by her name in the midst of a rainy storm. se01, e024. >_<!

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #part 1 #sleepy paper

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ironphilosopherbread · 4 years ago

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Never Fade Away Lyric Interpretation

This is my interpretation of Samurai song Never Fade Away. I think most of the meanings are obvious and are said by other but I just wanted to write it all down. If someone has their own interpretations, please share!

As I understand, the song in original tabletop game was written by Johnny after the death of Alt, but lyrics also apply to events in 2077. So, I will analyze it by using 2 different timeframes: past (Johnny’s relationship with Alt) and present (Johnny’s relationship with V).

I saw in you what life was missing

You lit a flame that consumed my hate

I'm not one for reminiscing but

I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace

PAST: so, imagine Johnny, a young man who just returned from the war where besides all horrors, he also had to witness how his friend sacrificed his life for Johnny's. He is depressed. He suffers from PTSD. And everything around him seems grim: world controlled by corporations, people living only for "bread and games". He becomes full of misery and anger. V puts it best: "I was so full of anger, I couldn't breathe". And there was Alt - flame that consumed his hate. But by the time of this song is written, she is dead. And Johnny feels he would trade everything for getting her back, so she would calm his hatred one more time.

PRESENT: I think the situation with V and Johnny is very similar to Alt and Johnny. The difference is that Alt calmed Johnny with her love. Meanwhile, in 2077 Johnny is in the back seat as a passenger and V is a driver. V forces Johnny to calmed down and watch the world as it is, to rethink his mistakes and decisions by simply being in control. Also, the lyrics "I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace" could fit Temperance ending as Johnny would be willing to die, if that means V could live; sweet embrace in this case being their friendship.

Cause we lost everything

We had to pay the price

PAST and PRESENT: Johnny wanted too much. He rebelled against the gods of 21st century - corporations. And for that he had to pay a price and lose everything Alt, his life, freedom and even identity. V also loses everything for the same reason, for trying to rebel against order, and for that they paid with the life of a friend, their own life and identity.

There's a canvas with two faces

Of fallen angels who loved and lost

It was a passion for the ages

And in the end guess we paid the cost

PAST: canvas could symbolize immortality, as even when those depicted on it die, their portraits stay for centuries - they do not age, they do not die. Two angels are Alt and Johnny. They are symbols of something good and pure that had become eternal. And yet they had to pay a price for their love.

PRESENT: very similar yet again. Johnny and V both are something good in the dark place that is Night City. And they both lost something they loved. In their case "passion for the ages" could be passion for life and dreams. And here again, they both paid a price for that.

A thing of beauty - I know

Will never fade away

What you did to me - I know

Said what you had to say

But a thing of beauty

Will never fade away

PAST: Now let's talk about Johnny's relationships and what 3 most important people in his life symbolize. Kerry - Johnny's best friend with who he shared love for music (Kerry = love for music); Rogue - Johnny's lover who he saw as mirror image of him for her love for freedom and rebellion (Rogue = love for rebellion); Alt - also Johnny's lover, but in her case she is the opposition to Johnny's rebellious nature. She is clear mind that protects us, so we would not do stupid and impulsive decisions. She calms us down. She is will and desire to live. And with life comes music and rebellion or more simply - everything that is beautiful (Alt = love for beauty). And when Johnny says: "What you did to me - I know/ Said what you had to say"; it is reminder to him of all the arguments, all the things Alt has told him, all she taught him, how she changed him or more importantly, how her death changed him. What is more, Alt’s death also took beauty from Jonny’s life and he got back to the same state he was when he got back from war. And worst of all, is that she will never fade away from his memory or heart. She will always be doubt and reminder of his failure, but also his love for beauty.

(Interestingly, Alt indeed never fades. Literally. Her body dies, but her mind stays internal as an A.I.)

PRESENT: Ironically, in V's eyes, it is Johnny that is a thing of beauty. Someone who, besides being a jerk, is a naive idealist who hopes for better future and who seeks changes. "What you did to me - I know/ Said what you had to say” shows how much Johnny changed V, how Johnny's words made V rethink their values and life goals, maybe their view of the world. And even when they are separated, Johnny's words stay with V, shape them. It works both ways in Temperance ending, where Johnny is changed by V and it is V, who will never fade away from Johnny's memory.

I see your eyes, I know you see me

You're like a ghost how you're everywhere

I am your demon never leaving

A metal soul of rage and fear

PAST: ok, this is my favorite part. So, after death of Alt, Johnny feels guilt, he sees her everywhere; he is obsessed with thoughts of her. Her death, one more time ignites his hatred for corporations and fear of inevitable, grim future.

PRESENT: here lyrics take more literal meaning. Johnny has basically become V's conscience. No matter what V does, they feel judged by Johnny, his eyes see everything. While Johnny himself feels more like a demon, a parasite that depends on V for survival. And all he has left are rage and fear.

That one thing that changed it all

That one sin that caused the fall

PAST: Here it gets interesting as I am not sure of what sin Johnny speaks of. It could be pride. His pride to rebel against gods (Arasaka) that end in fall. But it could also be Johnny's rage. Rage also stimulated rebellion. It brought rush decisions that cost Alt's life.

PRESENT: Here, it seems that it was either pride or greed that made V to steal from gods and it caused their fall.

And I'll do my duty - I know

Somehow I'll find a way

But a thing of beauty

Will never fade away

And I'll do my duty

Yeah

We'll never fade away

PAST: so, Alt is dead, what is there left to live for but revenge? Johnny can monologue as much as he wants about his hatred for Arasaka and corporations. By the end of the day, he himself admits, he did all that for Alt. But as she symbolizes life and beauty, Johnny's revenge can also symbolize a fight against corruption. In the end, blinded by grief, rage and fear Johnny saw destruction of Arasaka as his duty. And he had to find a way to do that. By destroying Arasaka, he believed he will make a world a better place and for that he will be remembered. So here, lyrics change, from "will never fade" aka Alt will never fade away to "we'll never fade" as they, Johnny and Alt, will never fade away.

PRESENT: here lyrics take more personal meaning. Now, Johnny's duty is to save V and he must find a way to do that. By living in the head of V, he realized that he did not manage to change the world and that he became forgotten. But if he can do one more thing, make at least one thing right he will save this little stupid merc, so at least he would not fade away from their memory. Here "We'll never fade away" suits The Sun ending the best. I think in this ending V has become most similar to Johnny of all endings. They became something of a student of Johnny and they are also a living legend. So, no matter what, V and what is left of Johnny inside of V, will never fade away.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #v #never fade away samurai #alt cunningham

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mrslittletall · 4 years ago

Note

Whump prompt: "I am fine"

With Oscar and Solaire.

More than a wound or an injury, how about it being about psychological angst :D?

Title: Guilt Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Oscar of Astora & Solaire of Astora Word Count: 1.854 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30487920

Summary: Solaire and Oscar reflect on the death of the fire keeper after they returned from Blighttown.

(Author's note: The moment I saw the prompt, I knew that I had to use the Amor Fati versions, a fantastic, but angsty Oscar and Solaire centric fic. It is my own interpretation of a certain scene and clearly not canon to it. Please enjoy.)

Oscar sat in Fire Link Shrine, staring at the bonfire, or what remained from it. The truth was, nothing remained. It had been snuffed out. It was different from the destroyed bonfire in the Asylum however, because nobody had removed the coiled sword of it.

Instead, the reason for the absence of the bonfire laid in a cell below the stairs. Oscar's eyes briefly wandered to the place where the Crestfallen Warrior had once sat. He probably would have a snarky comment for the whole situation, asshole as he was.

Oscar got up and approached the stairs. Solaire still hadn't come back. As soon as the both of them had discovered the dead body of the fire keeper, they had found their culprit right away. Who else could it have been, but Lautrec? The knight of Carim had been a thorn in their side for far too long, spewing his poison wherever he could. Oscar had tolerated him far too long and he barely understood how Solaire had been able to stand being around him in the time Oscar had been stuck in a dark and very empty place, unable to be reborn by the bonfire.

They couldn't hunt Lautrec down however. They had returned from Blighttown and the journey left their bodies beaten and their Estus Flasks empty. With no bonfire to refill them, they first had to track down another and none of them was in the physical or mental state to brave the dangers of Lordran once more. So for the time being, they were stuck at Fire Link Shrine.

As Oscar reached the end of the stairs, he remembered that Lautrec had often sat down here. His eyes on the fire keeper. In hindsight, it had been obvious. How they hadn't seen it coming... they maybe had thought that not even someone as vile as Lautrec would commit the sin and kill a fire keeper. Especially because he was a knight of Carim, who would protect his maiden his whole life.

Thinking about Lautrec only made Oscar's wounds sting and give him a bad taste on his mouth, so he rather approached Solaire, who sat in front of the cell with a vacant stare. He must have sat there for hours now. They were undead and didn't need food or sleep, but Oscar himself knew how damaging it was to just be left alone with his thoughts. He knew it very well.

Deep inside he feared that Solaire might have gone hollow.

“Solaire?”, Oscar said, slowly approaching his friend. “You have sat here for hours, my friend.” Oscar paused for a bit, his worry deepening when Solaire didn't answer right away. “...Are you feeling alright?”

“I am fine.”

Solaire's answer came much more immediate than Oscar had anticipated. Too immediate. Oscar had the feeling that Solaire very much was... not fine. It was normal for Solaire. He always would downplay how he felt. He would always put others over himself. As long as he could help people, he felt fine. Oscar knew that he did it mainly to hide his own deep insecurities.

Insecurities I have been a part of causing.

Oscar was an elite knight, Solaire never had been a part of his group. Oscar had gotten his title mostly from social status and family name, but he hadn't been able to do anything when all his brethren had fallen in battle. He had never participated in their cruel jests with Solaire, but he had been indifferent about him as well. If only he could have been Solaire's friend sooner. He hated that he had lost most of his memories, but he hated the man he once was much more.

Who does say that you changed in the meantime?

Oscar shook his head at himself. He needed to stop these hurtful thoughts. This wasn't about him. Solaire needed him right now. Both of them were far closer to hollowing than they wanted, with Oscar even being stuck in a state of half hollowing, so that he never removed his helmet and preferred not to speak to others.

“You don't seem to be fine.”, Oscar said, sitting down next to Solaire.

“I am fine.”, Solaire just repeated, barely acknowledging Oscar's presence.

Oscar thought about his next words. What would be the sensible thing to say? What would Solaire feel at the moment? Guilt maybe? It felt like Solaire might blame himself for having let Lautrec go away, for not killing him, so that he would have hollowed down in the swamp.

“It wasn't your fault.”, Oscar said. “Neither of us could know that he would do it.”

“I did.”

Oscar's eyes widened at the response. Was there something he didn't knew? Should he poke about the issue a bit farther?

“Solaire?”, he asked, deciding to let the other knight take the initiative.

“Oscar...”, Solaire said. “There are things I haven't told you about.”

Oscar held his breath, waiting for Solaire to continue. Solaire surely was talking about the time in which Oscar had been “dead”, to him at least.

“It would warp your perspective of me.”, Solaire finally spoke, after Oscar finally released his breath.

Oscar used his next breath to reply: “Nothing you did could ever make me think lesser of you.”

Solaire had done so much for him, without him, Oscar had long gone hollow. Solaire had been nothing but a joy in his sorry existence as an Undead, he had been his precious friend. As far as Oscar knew, Solaire probably did blame himself for Oscar's death still, because he had insisted on helpin the woman that had lured both of them into the trap that had cost Oscar's life.

Solaire finally looked at Oscar, his blue eyes seemingly staring right through him. “Are you sure about this?”, he said dryly, as if he already had made up his mind about how Oscar would react.

“Yes, I am sure.”, Oscar replied. “Whatever happened down there, Solaire, you can tell me. I promise I won't think less of you.”

A deep sigh escaped Solaire's lips and he started to tell the story. Once he had left Lautrec to die in the swamp (Oscar felt that he still regretted not having killed Lautrec back then), he had found a cave in which a woman with a giant spider for a body had resided. She had attacked him and Solaire had come out victorious from this battle. Then, he found a sunlight medal on a wall. Upon trying to take it, a secret corridor had appeared and..

“The knight of thorns was there.”, Solaire said, nothing but tiredness in his voice, “I saw him and... I saw red. I could only think about, that he was responsible for your death, Oscar. That was all... all I could think about. I didn't simply fight him, I made sure to inflict as much pain as possible on him...”

“Solaire...”, Oscar didn't manage to say more than his friend's name before Solaire continued.

“There was this... woman there... blind, sick, broken. She spoke to me and thought that I was her sister. She was... very important to the knight of thorns...”

Oscar felt like he wanted to hold his breath again, having a bad feeling about where this story was going.

“He took away what was most precious for me right in front of my eyes, so I... I was raising my sword and was about to do the same to him... I... I only snapped out of it, because... because she told me... or more her sister that she thought was me, that she would happily die for her. I.. I couldn't go through with it. This had all been so wrong and then...”

Solaire took another deep breath and then the rest of the words just poured out of him.

“It was Lautrec who killed her, but it could have been me. I almost did it. All because I wanted to inflict pain on the knight of thorns. All because I wanted vengeance for you, Oscar.”

Solaire was actively sobbing now, burying his face in his hands. Oscar could only imagine the pain Solaire had been in. He asked himself how he had reacted would it have been Solaire that had died and not him. How he would have reacted if Solaired had never been reborn from the bonfire.

At the same time, Oscar felt a deep and dark shame bubble up in himself.

“I turned into nothing but a monster!”, Solaire cried out. “And the moment I should have been one, the moment I decided to let Lautrec live, I took the life of two innocent women. That makes me into an even worse monster!”

Oscar flinched upon hearing Solaire talk so ill of himself. He knew that Solaire wasn't... like this. Solaire was compassionate, far too compassionate. It was his compassion that had made him hesitate to kill Lautrec. Lautrec's actions weren't Solaire's fault. If anyone was at fault, it was..

“No, you are not at fault, Solaire.”, Oscar said, grabbing the hands of the sunlight warrior and removing them from his face, staring into his swollen and teary eyes. “When anyone was at fault, it was me. I was trapped in the darkness, that is why I couldn't be reborn, but I didn't make an effort. It was nice, warm, calm and someone was there to keep me company.”

A friend? Did he see the Chosen Undead as a friend? Probably not anymore after the shit they had pulled, but it couldn't be denied they had a history with each other.

“They showed me a world of... peace and serenity. A world in which I didn't had to care about anything in the world. I was so close to just... give in and stay there forever. It was the thought about you, my friend, that made me snap out of it. I knew that you were waiting for me, Solaire, that is why I could return.”

Oscar started into Solaire's face, saw his trembling lip and the unspoken words between them. Instead of saying anything, Oscar simply gave Solaire a tight hug.

“I am sorry, Oscar...”, Solaire sniffled after a while. “I appear to be... not fine after all.”

“I think... neither of us is.”, Oscar said. Or ever has been., he thought. “It's alright, we can figure this out. We have each other after all... we can always figure something out.”

“You don't think less of me?”, Solaire said, his voice hoarse and broken.

“How could I?”, Oscar asked. “You are not responsible for Lautrec's crimes and I promise to you, once we find him, we will make him accountable.”

Solaire finally stopped sniffing and reciprocated the hug. “Thank you... my brother.” (Author's note: This probably won't make too much sense when you haven't followed Amor Fati, which I very much recommend. If you like Oscar and Solaire and like angsty stories, go and read it.

It was fun writing versions of Oscar and Solaire that are not mine and I hope I did them justice. I look forward to the next chapter of Amor Fati.)

#dark souls #fanfiction #oscar of astora #solaire of astora #march of the whumps #request fill #ask answered #thx for the ask #littlewritesstuff #acebladespades

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chibivesicle · 4 years ago

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Golden Kamuy chapters 269-270. The cliff notes meta edition.

This will be a less detailed meta as I’ve just been spread too thin recently and the current events of the manga have been underwhelming to me, making it harder to engage with the content.

Having an online presence has been a double-edged sword for me and as we mark 1 year of pandemic life, it is hard for me to invest as much time in it since I have to do so many more things online for work. Sitting down to write meta isn’t as fun and relaxing as it once was when you have 7 zoom meetings over the course of several days. Add on the fact that I have not left the county were I live since February 2020 nor I have a seen any of my family or friends . . . yeah writing meta isn’t a much of a priority. As an aside, I think more people need to be stating that being ‘productive’ and ‘leveling up’ during these times is either unrealistic and even more damaging by creating completely unrealistic expectations of how we should respond to things.

[steps off of soapbox]

Chapter 269, quickly shows us how the chaos that Tsurumi unleashed on the divided Ainu resulted in a tragedy and Wilk is the only one who managed to survive the massacre.

Tsurumi is able to sort out that there were eight Ainu, and that Wilk staged his own death by working quickly to conceal the identity of the dead partially by removing the eyes.

Kikuta is the first one to find the man who dies soon after discovery and Tsurumi seems to be in awe of Wilk’s escape plan.

KIkuta also shows he’s a more empathetic individual worried about how they contributed to the death of Ariko’s father. Did Tsurumi push Kikuta away after the war since he knew Kikuta would feel bad about doing the ‘things’ needed to be done for the gold?

It further highlights that Usami and Kikuta were never on the same page. I do like how the following page shows both Kikuta and Ariko continuing to tie the narrative that Kikuta feels a connection with the younger man. Shiraishi and Sugimoto spot Ariko, calling him Ariko Ipopte, which is an interesting choice to use a hybrid name for him. Kikuta uses his full Japanese name, while these men use a mix.

The final panel showing a reflective looking Kikuta walking alone in the rain really emotional connects with the grief surrounding all of this unnecessary death. Tsurumi sought to be a leader of men by giving them love and being the stand in father for them. I think that Kikuta is the character who is the natural and honest father figure - we know he has a deep relationship with Ariko and we also know he has some sort of connection to Sugimoto.

Tsurumi continues his ‘discussion’ of events with Asirpa and Sofia. Tsurumi has such a complicated relationship with Wilk. He’s both in awe of the man’s determination to survive but at the same time he wanted him destroyed at such a great cost.

Tsurumi really lays on the guilt to Asirpa that Wilk did everything to protect her - under the assumption that she’d be unfairly treated if her father had killed all of those men. Perhaps that is the case, perhaps not. It seems contradictory to his own actions where he gave Ogin and the Lighting Bandit’s child to Huci to care for it. He has this weird approach to the impact of the ‘sins of the parents’ on the child . . .

Tsurumi doggedly pursues Wilk and they immediately recognize each other and he flees onto the lake with his canoe. By shooting at Wilk, he forces him to capsize the canoe and items sink down into the lake. Honestly, I’m not sure what Tsurumi was hoping to achieve by this - make him swim so that he could capture him more easily. We don’t know how skilled Tsurumi is with a rifle and I’d be more concerned about killing Wilk and loosing the information. It seems reckless in my opinion since the ultimate outcome was Wilk appealing to Inudou thus achieving protection from the 7th.

I think Tsurumi was fueled and blinded by his emotions which only made things more complicated and drew the hunt for the gold out even longer (to the present time).

The rest of the chapter explains how Kiro felt. First, the grief at the loss of Wilk, trying to move on my having a family, but ultimately coming back to realize that Wilk was still alive after the war. Really, Wilk underestimated Kiro’s intelligence since he figured out that Kimuspu was the seventh man, not Wilk. As a Kiro fan, I of course favor him, but he really showed he’s a good leader and actually willing to take risks. What is most important is that having a family only lead him to want to fight for them - even more.

Kiro sees the flaw in Wilk’s plan of Hokkaido as an independent unit as a place for various native peoples, while ignoring all of the logistical issues that Kiro already pointed out to him previously. The Far Eastern Federation has the flaw that it is connected by land to Russia, but would me much harder to lay siege to. But Hokkaido as an island could easily be cut off - and with not much industry within itself, you still can’t do a whole lot with all of those raw materials if you can get industrial technologies from elsewhere. If it were blockaded they’d be screwed. Sure, you wouldn’t starve, but you wouldn’t be able to advance quickly. All that gold and nowhere to spend it.

Thus, Kiro believed he was acting in regard to their original goals and had no choice but to remove Wilk from the equation. As Wilk had become the very wolf that he had observed as a child and played with its pelt. That is some next level foreshadowing by Noda, if I do say so.

In the end, Kiro remained much more committed to their fight as partisans than Wilk did. You have to give it to him, he stuck to his original plans and he died believing he did the right thing. Now, looking back at how upset Sofia was when she first saw Kiro, we know why she slapped him in the first place. I’ll take it to mean that she was upset by Kiro’s actions but at the same time understood what he did. But then Sofia let it go, as she would soon go on to also speak fondly of Wilk and his desire to be like the wolves. Therefore, I don’t think Sofia was completely angry with Kiro, instead she knew the decision that was made and perhaps, she too, would have understood that there were divided in their goals once they moved on with their lives.

The next chapter starts off with the bottle mobile boys and Ariko on horseback as they determine what to do next. Sugimoto is amazingly still not rushing in like a maniac which is out of character for him. Are you okay Sugimoto? Or have your encounters with Kikuta and Boutarou begun to have an impact on you without being aware of it?

The settle on letting Ariko go ahead, even though he doesn’t answer their question. I’d say he doesn’t have a clue what side he is on. He likely cares about Kikuta. But he wants to see Asirpa succeed since he feels ashamed by his own approach towards life in Hokkaido as an Ainu.

Off he goes alone to figure out how to rescue Asirpa. Really, a terrible idea since sure he’s a tough guy, but we don’t know what his fighting skills are like in the first place. . . . At least he isn’t a hothead, so sending him in alone will be less of a disaster than Sugimoto.

The action returns to Tsurumi trying to turn up the heat on Asirpa. She asks him about Kiro’s fingerprints at the crime scene - a lie that Tsurumi fed to Inkarmat to get her to help him. He writes it off as him doing a good thing for her - she closed a chapter of her life - then again - he doesn’t know that Koito let Tanigaki and Inkarmat escape. The next several pages are a slow psychological technique that builds up to Tsurumi reveling that the bullet that killed Fina and Olga had been from Wilk’s pistol. Dum da duuum!

So, according to Tsurumi it is Wilk’s fault all those Ainu died. That he should have never left Russia for Japan. That even his time in Russia resulted in Fina and Olga’s deaths. Everything is Wilk’s fault!

This page ends with how Tsukishima let go of the woman he had loved and his memory of her - yet Tsurumi kept the bullet and the finger bones of his family! We can see that Tsukishima is barely holding it together, so upset by this knowledge!

As a master manipulator of people, Tsurumi thanks Sofia for what she has contributed to the story - he can help her feel better by telling her that she did not kill his wife and child. . . . on no, he only uses it as a way to add even more pressure on Asirpa!

To Tsurumi, Asirpa is no child, she is the direct tie to all of his anger and pain and his twisted soul.

I mean, he kept Wilk’s skinned face and he’s using it to get her to break! What is more interesting is after the initial shock, Sofia quickly regains her calm while Asirpa - well she’s clearly buying into Tsurumi’s explanation of things.

She is thinking about how her father ‘turned’ Tsurumi into the person he is before her . . . . I’d be willing to say that Wilk influenced Tsurumi - as much as Tsurumi influenced Wilk. Yet, Tsurumi as a human being is responsible for his decisions and he alone can respond to them in a constructive or destructive way. It is clear Tsurumi went for the latter.

Sofia’s calm in this pressure situation is clear as she asks him if it was for revenge. She’s a smart woman and has lived long enough to see these types of things through.

Tsukishima is ready to kill Tsurumi - it would make him a hypocritical leader - having him let go of his own earthly attachments only to serve a man bent on revenge. Koito is listening closely as well, unsure of how he’s going to respond.

Tsurumi makes it clear he could have killed Asirpa any number of times. I think this is another case of Tsurumi playing a verbal slight of hand. He’s asked if he’s doing this out of revenge, and his answer is - I haven’t killed her yet. Gee, based on how messed up you are Tsurumi, we both know that there is more than one way to take revenge. Killing someone in retribution is one way to take revenge or the worse way - make their life a living hell. It is clear that Tsurumi is going for the second one to break Asirpa.

There is a dramatic two page spread as he explains that he is doing this for Japan - and the implied increasing militaristic activities of the late Meiji government to expand their domain.

If feels - like a performance to me as a reader. The pages are remarkably light in tone giving it an optimistic and feeling of purity. Yet, Tsurumi is a broken and corrupt man . . . cruel in his intentions. He only says this as a way to combat anyone who were to contradict him . . . .

It is too perfect - too convenient - too good for Koito and Tsukishima to believe in my own opinion. As both of the men seem relived to have heard these very words as a type of closing statement.

Tsukishima looks relived that Tsurumi is continuing on the behalf of all of their fallen comrades and families. Again, this sounds too perfect like Tsurumi’s speech isn’t for Asirpa nor Sofia, it is for Koito and Tsukishima who are eavesdropping. Since Tsurumi is a next level planner/manipulator he likely came up with this well rehearsed speech to placate all issues around his inability to move on from his family’s death. It makes him look mature and that he’d moved on from his more basic human needs.

Koito looks like he’s trying really hard to believe Tsurumi and how Tsurumi’s words would comfort Tsukishima. But is that how you really feel Koito? That face looks - so - fake. Like Koito is overdoing it again and is actually unsure how to react. So, he he looks elated, Tsukishima will feel better - or something.

What I really want to know is why they are just there hiding and watching Tsurumi? If they are wanting to think independently and beyond Tsurumi why do it while hiding? It seems no matter what either man may think, they are still under Tsurumi’s thumb as far as how they react to his behavior and the current events.

And I’m gonna have to hold things here while I find a way to read the more recent chapters with non-shady software to decompress the files since I’ve been using Mangadex the entire time I’ve been reading GK (in addition to the english versions of previous chapters).

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #asirpa #tsukishima hajime #koito otonoshin #kiroranke #tsurumi tokushirou #sofia #wilk #sugimoto saichi #Shiraishi Yoshitake #warrant officer kikuta #ariko rikimatsu

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chalkrevelations · 4 years ago

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Well. Episode 34 of Word of Honor, and, oh.

(Spoilers. Scroll on by and come back later if you want to watch it unspoiled.)

Oh. No. NO, show. Only A-Xiang is supposed to make me cry, so fuck you, Zhou Zishu, with your SAD LITTLE FACE, oh my god, why don’t you just pull my heart out of my chest, throw it down in the dirt and stomp on it? It would be kinder than having to watch you deal with the implications of whatever it is, precisely, you’ve done to yourself that means you’re expecting to drop dead any day and lose your chance at lifetime happiness with your soulmate but are hiding from everyone. (Well, I guess it’s your turn to be hiding something, because it looks like everyone in the jianghu except you was in on at least some part of Wen Kexing’s plan.)

So, the first thing that struck me in this ep is the way ZZS sits at the table at the post-Hero’s Conference meal drinking session, hunched over, like his bones are made of shattered glass, and here’s the thing: He’s absolutely just had a serious emotional blow. But also, this is a guy who’s terminally ill and in chronic pain, and we saw that repeatedly for about the first two-thirds of the show, and then the emphasis on it kind of slacked off. And I’m thinking now that maybe it wasn’t just slack writing or WKX playing his xiao in the rain through the nights at Four Seasons Manor like the worst emo kid ever that helped, that maybe some of the progression of the deadening of ZZS’s senses might have offered him some relief, but whatever it was, I’m wondering if whatever he’s done now – I presume pulled out those gd Nails - has exacerbated everything all over again. I cannot believe that at least Wu Xi can’t look at the way he’s moving and holding himself at the table and see that he’s not just stone-cold angry and emotionally hurt about being left out of the loop, he’s in physical pain. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a little like being stabbed in the chest when he gets confirmation that Chengling and WKX were in on WKX’s “death” together while he was in the dark and believed this asshole actually died on him. But I also think we’re getting physical pain ramped up again from him; there’s a hesitation and delicacy of movement that speaks of someone who’s judging their movements and maintaining a high level of control, because if they do make a wrong move, everything could just explode into agony. I also noticed the way he clutches his cup when A-Xiang starts explaining how WKX made a deal with Xie Wang in order to rescue ZZS from Tian Chuang, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if it’s having to hear about WKX finding himself in that position in order to save him, or if it’s A-Xiang calling him “Sick Dude” at a moment when that’s going to press right on one of the tenderest, most vulnerable places. Because, god, everyone else at this table who even knows about his terminal illness still thinks that Wu Xi is going to be able to fix him. And here’s where ZZS apparently is a better person than me, because I don’t know that I wouldn’t have an absolute breakdown and end up throwing it in WKX’s face that if he had just told me what was going on, maybe I wouldn’t be about to drop dead tomorrow and leave him alone for the rest of his life, asshole. But no! His zhiji’s happiness is so important to ZZS, that he’s not going to say a word about it! It’s more important than his own life, that his shidi has been able to avenge his parents while keeping his own hands (relatively) clean of any more sins. He’s going to continue to be there, to be whatever WKX needs him to be, for however few days he has left. I won’t fail you. (Even when you fail me). Here’s the thing though – at some point, you’re going to drop dead, Zhou Zishu. And apparently you’re going to leave WKX completely unprepared for it, so I don’t know that you’re doing him any favors being the one who’s hiding something, this time around. And oh my god, I just realized something – you made him drink three pots of liquor as a punishment – was that to get him so blind drunk he wouldn’t notice the Nails were gone? You realize you have to tell him at some point, right?

ANYWAY, WKX gets sloppy drunk and stumbles into their(? has everyone just given up any pretense at this point?) bedroom, and first of all, can I take a minute to flail over the way ZZS pushes drunk WKX’s hair back off of his shoulder? Can I? Because I rewound and re-watched that 2 seconds of the show three times. But then, then, WKX starts drunken rambling about how happy he is, and how scared he’d been that he wasn’t worthy of ZZS, and tears start welling up in ZZS’s stupid eyes, and WKX starts talking about how finding ZZS made him a whole new person, and ZZS’s stupid precious face gets SO SAD, and I start fucking welling up too, and then WKX talks about his parents and their shifu, and ZZS presses WKX’s head to his chest and gives us his stupid sad little smile, and I’m literally clutching my shirt hem in inarticulate pain and distress by this point, and then ZZS starts to break down as he holds WKX’s hand as WKX finally falls asleep, and he gives that stupid shaky sobbing little gasp, and just UGH. I’m DYING here, show. Also, how did you manage to do this to me with just your face, Zhang Zhehan? I’m not sure I can take the next couple of episodes, when the whole Nails dilemma is sure to come out.

Second big takeaway of this ep is that I just … oh my god. I cannot with you, Xie’er, holy shit. And I say this in a completely loving yet utterly aghast way. Was it absolutely necessary to literally sit on Awful Yifu’s lap? I’m reduced to a state of horrified laughter over the envelope pushing. The absolute fuckery of the power dynamic fluctuations of the Zhao Jing/Xie Wang relationship at this point … it’s something. It’s finally reached a point where it’s so fucky and complex that I may have to go looking for some fic, despite my general desire to punt Awful Yifu into the sun. I do have to say that the whole (one-sided) conversation when Xie’er finally let everything out was super-cathartic. Go off with your unfilial self, Xie’er. Li Daikun has been amazing all through this, and he’s continuing to maintain a perfect balance as we move toward the finish line. I’ve heard he was offered Wen Kexing and supposedly didn’t want to take the role because he didn’t think he was ready for it? And while I absolutely appreciate Gong Jun and the chemistry between ZZS and WKX that he built with Zhang Zhehan, I’m flabbergasted that Li Daikun was able to pull off Xie’er like this, yet thought he couldn’t manage WKX ... and I have to admit, I kind of would like to see what WKX would have been in his hands. I’ve also heard a rumor that they’re talking about maybe filming an origin story for Xie Wang? I … am torn, because on the one hand, more Xie’er, but on the other, more Awful Yifu. Anyway, I think we’re continuing to see a whole tangle of resonances between Xie’er, Wen Kexing, and Zhou Zishu, and the awful men in their lives who helped make them who they are today; there’s something of a contrast between Zhou Zishu, who, maybe significantly, was older and had some grounding from his Four Seasons shifu when he got tangled up with Prince Jin and Tian Chuang and who was willing to gnaw off his own leg to get out of the trap (and only finally struck back because he was forcibly taken back) and the other two, one of whom killed and … dismembered? flayed? his abuser before taking his literal throne, and the other of whom turned his abuser into a muted … piece of furniture? sex toy? before taking his figurative throne. Xie’er is about five steps behind Wen Kexing on a parallel path, and maybe there’s still time for him to untangle some of the fuckery in his head about his awful yifu. But meanwhile, there it is: You failed me. Xie’er, you’re breaking my heart, but I feel like I have to point out, again, this is the guy who is literally responsible for the existence of the Department of the Unfaithful. I did have a brief moment when I was convinced Xie’er was poisoning himself and Awful Yifu in a murder-suicide move, but then we got lap-sitting instead? Which could have made me think we were getting some kind of reversion to wanting to feel safe, like a kid able to (finally) sit in his father’s lap and play at comfort, but then he went and made it – let’s be honest – a little weird.

Last really big takeaway for me from this ep is that A-Xiang and I continue to be simpatico, because lady, I also have a very very bad feeling about Fan Shishu’s absence in this wedding “party” from the Gentle Wind Sword Sect, and watching your dawning realization at the end of the episode when he doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up as the group enters only confirmed my suspicions that something is UP. Am I supposed to expect a fakeout to Mo Huaiyang’s haranguing speech to Cao Weining, with a wrap-up of “But since you clearly love her so much and want to be a good influence …” Because I won’t believe it. And I’m not going to be happy or comfortable until we see the back of this asshole, because speaking of somebody who says everything with his face, Mo Huaiyang was NOT happy when Ye Baiyi called off the rest of the Heroes Conference, after his horse in the race had already been completely repudiated and he lost whatever chance he had at gaining power and influence on Zhao Jing’s back. Even if he did come all this way – bearing gifts – just to tell Cao Weining he’s an ungrateful brat and to never darken the door of Gentle Wind Sword Sect, it would still be a jerkass thing to do. But I don’t trust him as far as I could spit, and my only question at this point is whether all of Cao Weining’s shidi who came with him to the wedding are in on whatever bs Mo Huaiyang’s planning to pull.

A couple other random things:

Oh, so A-Xiang’s two moms are going to stay together for the rest of their lives, are they? And Liu Qianqiao is even like, “Loser Boyfriend? I don’t know him.” Followed by a cut to Luo Fumeng and her vaguely smug reaction. I’m dying.

No one’s going to say anything about this random body that Wen Kexing used for his plan? Just, you know, went to the store or something and picked out a random body? I realize it’s very late in the game to be getting moralistic about the adorable merciless killers, but come on, man. I also think we have once again overused the infodump. I realize we only have 35 episodes, but some of this explanation of WKX’s very complex plan should have been shown, not told. Anyway, cue series of flashbacks to finally explain how the whole Rube Goldberg plan was put in place, and ah-hah! WKX, himself, talked to Chengling ahead of time. I notice that in that flashback scene and the one when he talks to Ye Baiyi, he’s prominently still wearing That Hairpin, so we’ll realize this all got set into motion before ZZS was rescued and brought home.

Finally, why has everyone seem to have forgotten (still) about that KEY that WKX was waving around? No one’s going to mention it? Really?

And now, I think I’m going to fortify myself with some bourbon for the next ep.

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #xie wang #zhao jing #gu xiang #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 years ago

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Final graduation ficlet (which got quite long). A-Qing lives (sort of) and channels ghosts while living out her fashionista dreams. Jiang Cheng is identifiable due to his clothing choices. Light violence and zombies.

The best thing about living in Koi Tower is the clothing. Silk that runs like water between her hands, brocade heavy with embroidery, jewelry that chimes and sings as she moves. She doesn’t feel heat or cold, can’t sense gentle changes in pressure or even most pain. There’s still enough perception in her fingers to map out the bamboo grove and song birds stitched on her favorite dress and feel the whorls of gold and inset jade on her new bracelet.

After the first impolite insinuation about their friendship Jin Ling stopped buying her gifts more excessive than those he gave to the rest of his friends. Ouyang Zizhen, who can describe the grandeur of Lanling’s markets so clearly she can see the hawkers and jewel-bright fancies in her mind’s eye, has been thoroughly scolded by his father on her behalf so many times that they’ve regretfully halted their shopping trips.

Wei Wuxian makes up for it. He doesn’t have money of his own, but his husband is rich and lets him do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to spoil A-Qing whenever he’s in town.

He calls her cousin (biao zhi mei, an affection which makes several martial relationships familial and she thinks retroactively enforces at least two adoptions) and takes her places the boys are too scared to go. Good company though they usually are, they’re rich kids to the core. The streets A-Qing grew up on, back alleys and muddy side streets, are too lowly for little princes. They aren’t like Wei-qianbei, who can banter with street walkers and haggle with counterfeiters. His company is a welcome escape from the pompous brats in Koi Tower. Together with Wen Ning they walk the streets, wearing high collars and low hats for disguise. They sniff about the food vendors until oil and salt fill A-Qing’s throat and coat the remnants of her tongue. Wei Wuxian buys her trinkets, little squares of silk and jangling bracelets of gilt and enamel, louder and more delightful than the demure ostentation of the Jin. When she was young and dreamed of being rich she wanted bracelets up to her elbows, not “restraint” or “taste”.

At the end of every outing Wei Wuxian hands her a little parcel. “From your shushu by the water” he says, as if she has any idea who that is. They’re nice gifts through. Scarves and robes in fine cotton and brocade. There’s stitched florals and ribbons. She makes Jin Ling describe them to her and he reluctantly tells her about violet and turquoise geometric patterns, waxed pale into fabric. There’s one overrobe she especially likes— dark blue, Jin Ling says, with a cracking pattern like mud under the sun, like lightning, like the death lines on her own skin. She can feel the stares on her when she wears it.

The old men certainly stare when she slams open the door and begins tapping her way into the conference room, though she can’t tell whether it’s the crackling midnight robe, the green jade pins in her hair, or the fact that she’s here at all that has them so startled. That’ll teach them to try to distract her with poetry and fancies. As soon as the fine cultivator ladies, who normally scorn Koi Tower’s corpse, swept her away, she knew something was wrong.

It’s bold of them to try to ambush Jin Ling in his own home. They’re going to regret it.

“Xiao-guniang,” Jin Ling says, sounding relieved. A servant takes her arm and guides her over to the table, and A-Qing doesn’t snap at them. She’s learned to pick her battles. “I was just about to send for you. These kind elders have quite the suggestion for me and I wanted your input on it.”

“Is this really the place for a young... lady?” come the protestation.

“My shibo thinks highly of her judgement.” Jin Ling says, leaving everyone to put together in their own heads who his shibo is.

That stirs up whispers. It always does. A Sect Leader, almost grown, consulting her? A corpse under the Yiling Patriarch’s protection, a barely civilized street rat. They might have given her Xiao Xingchen’s name (it still hurts to hear it spoken, still scrapes every time someone calls her Xiao Qing, though even Song-daozhang insists he would have wanted her to have it) and a backstory worthy of tears (’she survived Xue Yang!’ Ouyang Zizhen would cry, passionate and sweet, and Jingyi would add a story of her bravery so embroidered it was unrecognizable) but she’s still a parentless urchin. A girl. A dead thing. There are a dozen reasons she shouldn’t be here.

Jin Ling has the full support of the Jiang and the Lan behind him though, and Nie-zongzhu always compliments her accessories. None of the other, weaker sects can do a thing about it. Politics is a lot like living on the street; the big people make the rules and everyone else puts up with it. The old coots make some noises about propriety, forcing chaperones and moderating the affection A-Qing and her friends can show each other in public, but they can’t get rid of her or mitigate her influence on their young ruler.

At best they can insinuate, and since Jin Ling started making eyes at the visiting cultivator from Dali those insinuations have had increasingly little weight.

What are their words? A-Qing signs, even though she knows perfectly well why they’re ganging up on Jin Ling in a side room. She won it out of Duanmu-zongzhu’s wife, who was sent to distract her. It’s amazing what people will say in the presence of a mute girl-- they think she’s deaf too and talk quite freely. You would think they’d be more careful, since she is, by their own accusation, a conniving abomination, but for all their fear they never quite take her seriously.

“They had some suggestions about the salt trade.” Jin Ling is doing an admirable job of playing the mature diplomat. “Surely they can explain it better themselves.”

“We merely wished--” one of them starts stammering, and another one takes over. “We thought to inform Jin-zongzhu of the opportunity to centralize control of the salt market. The Jin, Qin, and Lan together hold most of the salt marshes, and Jin-zongzhu’s great-aunt ruling in Meishan mean he would be able to get the western brine wells to cooperate with a taxation pact. It would be very beneficial to both the sects and the merchants!”

“They want to put limits on who can buy and sell salt, and they’re willing to levy a tax to make it worth our while.” She can practically hear Jin Ling’s posture, arms crossed, defensive. “Xiao-guniang, I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on that?”

I’ve walked in salt villages, A-Qing replied, leaning her cane against the table so her hands can move furiously fast. It’s not a good life. Brine and heat. If they could only sell to a few merchants they would be underpaid. No choices.

(A maid helpfully murmurs a translation of her words to the rest of the room. Few people have bothered to learn the language she now uses, the one she pieced together with the help of her friends.)

Jin Ling hums. “That makes sense.”

“There’s no reason to hesitate on the behalf of some peasants,” a very bold voice complains. “Their state won’t be improved by empty sympathy.”

“They’re just boilers, of no concern to you Jin-zongzhu. We treat them well.”

Oh. Oh.

She was going to hold back, for Jin Ling’s sake, but now she’s angry. Who of you is Hu Anshi? she demands, mouthing out the sounds of the name and punctuating it with the bracketed meaning (beard, safe, stone) over and over until it’s duly translated.

Reluctantly, one of the many voices in front of her says, “I am, xiaojie.”

Even with her ever sharpening sense (honed by cultivation that she came into late and kicking) it’s hard to differentiate him from the rest of the horde of weakly pulsing qi before her. They all have ghosts attached to them, hovering resentment like a cloud about their heads. Rich men attract desperate hatred better than anyone else. But she thinks she can single out one fuzzy figure with a particularly heavy load of sins and a familiar tinged energy over his shoulder,

A-Qing takes up her bamboo cane and strikes it once on the ground. I talked to your ghosts, she signs with her free hand. They had a lot to say.

That silences them.

Jin Ling inhales sharply and moves closer to her side, hand grazing her sleeve in support. When she shakes her head he withdraws, leaving her alone on in the cool air of the Koi Tower, shivering in her fine cotton and silk. Shivering because she’s letting the change come over her, letting the whispering, angry ghosts attached to Hu Anshi’s back have their say.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when she took up this route of cultivation. Mediumship is... frowned upon by the sort of people who bear swords and seek immortality. The common people like it though and before she knew Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing made the acquaintance of a number of temple diviners and spirit writers. Some of them even offered her apprenticeships-- blind girls made for good optics. Spirit specialists willing to take on a pickpocket without the slightest inclination towards ghosts were unfortunately untrustworthy by definition. She never took them up on the offers.

Then she died and, like many of the restless dead, needed a way to communicate. Lan Sizhui played her Inquiry a thousand times in those first weeks, to ask her if she was comfortable, to field questions from the other giggling Lans. Eventually A-Qing memorized the song and began to play it on her own, tapping it out with bamboo against earth and fingers against wood. The spirit language, limited in form and structure, was easy to pick up and didn’t need a tongue or eyes.

When you played Inquiry, ghosts answered. A-Qing didn’t mention the questions at first, just did her clumsy best to give offerings to those whose names she learned, to give justice to those small inequalities her late night listening uncovered.

Wei-qianbei, who had what he called a “vested interest” in her wellbeing, learned about it eventually. He was the one who found her in Caiyi town (hidden from Lan and Jin elders alike while some ridiculous politics happened) fighting off possession by the little girl who’d been murdered two doors down a year ago. He was the one who helped her curse the wrongdoer, soothe the restless soul, and settle back into her own cold skin. After that he taught her Inquiry, and how to use the meditations Xiao Xingchen had happily guided her through to solidify her presence and strengthen her energy output. If she was going to get possessed, he suggested, she should be purposeful about it.

He didn’t teach her how to use her corpse strength to drag evildoers into the light. It came naturally enough and only needed a few suggestions from Wen-qianbei and Song-daozhang.

After that things had sort of... spiralled. By the time she went to join Jin Ling, then Jin-zongzhu, in Lanling a few months later, A-Qing had found herself an avatar of vengeance for any number of unquiet spirits. The living consulted her too, when there was bad luck or poltergeists, hauntings or incomplete burials.

As it happened, the highest halls of cultivation have hungry ghosts in need of justice too.

She lived in the north, in a village with no name. A-Qing says as icy incorporeal fingers close around her neck. They were poor and made money by selling salt, because one woman could bring up enough brine in a day to provide a whole family with salt for a year. And it paid. Until one day the merchants came to town with you at their head.

You have to give Zu’er, the maid who’s translating, credit. Even though the hand language drops lots of in-between words by necessity and requires creative substitutions-- earth for salt, sky for day-- she always picks up on A-Qing’s meaning. And she doesn’t flinch as smoke, hot and roiling, begins to peel off A-Qing, which speaks to her nerve if nothing else.

A-Qing taps her staff again and begins drumming out the song of opening, of offering.

Under your guidance they wouldn’t pay them enough to buy firewood from the inland where trees grew, or rice from the flood plains that weren’t salted beyond survival. Salt worth a fortune sold for scraps.

So they starved. Working, salt crusted, they hungered and hated you.

Footsteps echo on the cold marble floor.

“Bar the door,” Jin Ling says next to her, mild and spiteful. Whatever spirit he channels in clan politics, it’s a vicious one. “I think everyone should hear this.”

So a woman took salt on her back and went to sell it someplace else. And who did she meet on the road but the merchants? Do you remember what you did?

“She’s a witch and a liar,” someone, maybe even Hu Anshi claims. A-Qing is too deep in to care. The ghost, who came to her instantly when she played Inquiry this afternoon, looking for answers about this purported plot to head a monopoly, is particularly insistent and clever. She’s been following Hu Anshi for a long time, too weak to strike, too smart to get caught by protective charms and spirit dispelling talismans.

Now she finally has a chance to speak, in a sense of the word.

There is a complication to channeling without a tongue or eyes. She can get around just fine in this body of hers but spirits are rather less experienced. Without Sizhui or another Lan expert most can’t make their wishes known. So A-Qing has to get creative.

As much as she hates to admit it, she knows who she learned this mean showsmanship from. Three years with Xue Yang teaches you a lot about drama.

Cane held out like a divining sword, she advances, letting the spirit half sunk in her flesh and a faint memory of the room’s layout guide her around the table towards the bundle of quaking men. Like cowards, they scatter before her, not even trying to fight back (just as well; she can’t be killed but a sword in the stomach doesn’t make anyone happy). The ghost over her shoulder knows which target she wants to pick and swings about as frightened bodies swirl around her. Hu Anshi might be able to dodge but he can’t hide, soon she has him cornered.

His friends abandon him quickly, fleeing to the edges of the room as she advances. When her bamboo strikes his shaking legs, she gives in and lets the ghost have its way.

The problem with possession is that you have very little control. Locked away in the cool dark of her own flesh, A-Qing can’t even see what’s happening. Jin Ling is there, though, with his Clarity Bell, so she’s comfortable sitting back.

She gave the ghost pretty clear directions; no permanent damage, show how you died. At worst she’ll choke him for a bit before Jin Ling snaps her out of it.

For the sake of her friend, A-Qing tries to be subtle about her skills. Jin Ling helped her form her sign language, stuck with her even in the earliest days when the other frightened juniors were suggesting they report her to the Chief Cultivator, sent her long letters that Lan Jingyi would sprint down from Gusu to read out loud to her. He brought her here, gave her pretty dresses, listened when she talked about hungry children and towns that cultivators never visit. Listened when she talked about frightened female ghosts, begging for their lives, and murdered servants who have never gotten justice. Even his dog has been kind to her, has guided her through gardens and chased away bullies while Jin Ling sat in stuffy rooms doing grownup work. In deference to his family and responsibilities she doesn’t swear even when people act like bastards, she doesn’t run, she doesn’t summon evil spirits indoors without cause.

Sometimes she wonders how long their friendship (bound by oaths though it is) will last. In the three years they’ve known each other he’s gotten tall and deep-voiced, while she’s stayed the same. By the calendar she’s a decade older than him but she’ll never be fully grown. A-Qing is a creature of boundaries, not a girl and not a woman, not living and not dead. Not a destitute orphan anymore but not made for places like this.

More accurately, places like this aren’t made for her. It’s a shame because they clearly need her badly. Who else will give the ghosts and forgotten people a voice?

When the Clarity Bell finally shakes the ghost out of her body, she’s throttling a man with exquisite delicacy, holding his warm and moving throat like it’s the finest china ware. This is how she died, A-Qing thinks. You strangled her and left her body by the roadside. You took her salt and sold it and her family starved.

There’s a heavy hand on her shoulder. “That’s quite enough, I think.” says Jiang-zongzhu, whose voice she bothers to remember.

A-Qing lets the man fall to the floor, gasping even though she barely choked him.

“I told you all to stop talking about your salt plot,” Jiang-zongzhu is shouting above her. “Now you’ve tried to convince Jin-zongzhu alone to go along with your little price fixing scheme? Pathetic. I’ve heard enough of it. Get out. Don’t ever bring it up again.”

There’s a desperate skittering that A-Qing barely notices in the post-possession fog. She assumes the room clears.

“We’ll send the accusations of foul play to the local authorities?” When faced with his uncle Jin Ling always phrases orders as questions.

“A good idea,” Jiang-zongzhu agrees. “Send some cultivators too-- it’s outside of our wheelhouse but there’s bound to be some resentment built up if a merchant syndicate has been running wild through the marshes. Where did you say they were active, Xiao-guniang?”

He’s always polite to her. At first it was a disgusted sort of politeness, a politeness that suggested that she didn’t belong anywhere near his precious nephew. Over time it’s mellowed into frosty gentility and the occasional hand on her arm when she’s lost.

Qing province? she shrugs. South Bo Sea coast.

Signing proper nouns is like playing charades. For qing she points to herself (the words are close enough in pronounciation) for bo she taps her staff. It must make sense though because Jiang-zongzhu doesn’t even wait for Jin Ling’s swift interpretation. “That’s closest to Laoling. Qin Cangye has had a lot on his plate lately. Best to send a letter and some of your men.”

“I guess I should go do that. And I have to reassure the sect leaders I’m not doing demonic cultivation again.” A-Qing frowns and Jin Ling hastily amends, “You did great though.”

“Great is pushing it,” Jiang-zongzhu snaps. “You’re getting a reputation.”

Jin Ling, whose voice is already by the door, isn’t impressed. “They can get over themselves.”

Then it’s just her and Jiang-zongzhu in the room. One heartbeat, one steady warm core. A-Qing turns to go, only to be caught by the arm.

“Thank you.” Jiang-zongzhu says slowly. “You’ve been a good friend to him.”

A-Qing remembers the courtyard with the lotus pond, where she and Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi swore to be siblings in the eyes of the gods. (Though they love their other friends, they were excluded for practical reasons. Sizhui is already related to all of them and needed no further binding. Zizhen is a little in love with everyone and Jin Ling claims it’s bad form to sleep with sworn siblings, so for them to keep their options open he had to be excepted.) It’s a secret oath; Jin Ling doesn’t need the political complication of open sworn brotherhood. It’s still binding.

I try.

Jiang-zongzhu always smells like thunderstorms when he’s stressed. Right now all she can smell is the cloying Jin incense and a sweetness of lotuses. “Keep trying. And don’t be afraid to send for me again if you hear they’re ganging up on him.”

As he lets go of her her hand brushes his trailing sleeve. In an instant her fingers graze over silk brocade and fine patterned cotton. The texture is familiar and she instinctively grabs the fabric to feel the delicate embroidery and the stiff, thick woven cotton that still smells ever so slightly of wax. She can imagine the patterns inked on, maybe lotuses? Greenery? The colors are definitely shades of purple, blue and green.

A-Qing smiles as Jiang-zongzhu pulls away and stalks out.

The best thing about Koi Tower is the clothing, which sits against her skin and reminds her of the people who have taken her in.

The second best thing is getting to terrorize entitled rich people.

#the untamed #fanfic #graduation ficlets #a-qing #jin ling #jiang cheng

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laur-rants · 4 years ago

Text

Fic Update: Blood Wolf

Chapter 2

Fandom: Dishonored

Rated: Mature to Explicit, Strong Violence and Gore Ahead!!

Synopsis: Daud-Centric Prequel to Wolfbann. The story centers on how Daud turned, and his subsequent marking by the outsider and his formulation of the Whalers. Notes: There probably won’t be nsfw content in this fic, but it WILL be… violent. I want to play with my own boundaries of written violence and also Daud’s start wasn’t nearly as clean as Corvo’s. Their contrast on dealing with the werewolf transformation is one of the things I want to really explore, and Daud gets very close to falling off the wagon.

CHAPTER TAGS: Graphic depiction of nasty injury. AO3 link Previous :: Next

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Dunwall, Gristol

Month of Clans -- 1820

He woke with a gasp that burned and seared and lit his body on fire. He drew breath with a cough so painful it cracked his ribs and pulled him apart, fighting every aching inhale. Moving was an agony. His face and throat screamed at him as he rolled over, his fists clenching and teeth gnashing to try and quell the cry that threatened to burst out of him.

He settled for a muffled, tortured groan. His arms were bruised to the Void and back, but he pulled himself up, heaved an empty stomach, then lurched, willing his unresponsive body upright against a cold and slime-covered wall.

Daud breathed, in and out. He opened an eye only to find the world spinning dangerously, vertigo threatening his senses. He winced, shutting his eyes and trying to simply calm the rushing in his ears and head. Every pulse of his heart throbbed into his aching face, the sear of it blinding. Slowly, he lifted a shaking, gloved hand to delicately grace his features. The touch was tiny, as gingerly as he could manage, and still the pain screamed through him, sending shockwaves all the way down his spine and chest. The huge divot in his skin turned his stomach and his fingers pulled away, feeling sticky. Infection was setting in; not a good sign. He cracked his good eye open again, trying to focus on his hand in the gloom. He could feel shock setting into his limbs and he squeezed his fist, open and closed. He breathed, swallowed his nausea, and clung to the wall for dear life.

He should be dead. The wound on his face was beyond standard repair. He could practically feel his pulse jumping out of his neck; there was no reason that his jugular shouldn't be spilling his blood everywhere. He shuddered and coughed and tasted iron. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and his grip on reality loosened. It was too much, all too much. The fever and bile hit him hard and all at once. His eyes rolled back and Daud crumpled to the floor again, swiftly slipping into unconsciousness.

------

He jerked violently out of his second bout of sleep. Or could it be called sleep? He hadn't dreamt of anything, he had no idea how long he'd been out, and he remembered nothing of what he had been doing…

But the smell. Oh Void, the smell.

It smashed into his face like a sucker punch, the offense of it causing his brain to derail into survival mode. His nose wrinkled and a hiss escaped him, the odor assaulting him like an enemy. The pull on his features renewed the pain lancing all down the right of his face -- and the memory of his wound struck him like a crossbow bolt. He checked his hand -- still gloved -- before more tenderly touching fingertips to throat; the wound was, somehow, healing, but in the most festering way possible. The masses of gouged skin were scabbed, but he could feel the flesh at the edges, angry and red and swollen. He cursed under his breath; oh yes, definitely infected. He could feel the heat of the fever on his skin and when he tried to stand, his head swam. Still, he willed his feet to remain steady; he needed a proper assessment on what in the Void he was dealing with here. The world tilted as he stood, but at least his legs were relatively injury-free. Despite his swollen shut eye, Daud collected himself, sneered through the gloom, and what he saw nearly sent him reeling again.

He was in a sewer. It was dark as sin; here and there, the light of the upper world managed to gently filter through. Not that it mattered. He didn't need to see in the dark to know the place was full of death; at the edge of his gloomy vision, the humps of discarded bodies festered and bloated. He felt carefully for the wall and shimmied away from the offensive odor of rot and decay, forcing his brain to play catch up, to try and remember why he was even here in the first place.

Only flashes came to the forefront; tiny, disjointed moments that meant nothing to him without any context. Something large and furred had clawed his face, but there was no way a wolfhound could have inflicted this kind of damage. Perhaps he was misremembering; maybe it had grabbed his neck with its teeth. Silently, fingertips brushed three, four long marks, the longest slash dancing from right forehead to throat, right through his eye-- no tooth would have made lines like that. He worked his jaw and immediately regretted the action, his whole head throbbing in protest.

It didn't matter what had attacked him, he decided, just that it had. And if he didn't get the wound cleaned as soon as possible, the infection could still kill him yet.

His whole body shuddered. He didn't stick around to identify any bodies.

As he left his tunnel for another, the smell of death made way for the smell of sewage -- which frankly, wasn't much better. Blood and grime clung to him like a shroud and he tried desperately to recall why. He counted his knives; he was missing two of them, realizing belatedly they were probably back from where he had come. After some deliberation, he decided it would be easier to just replace them than collect them, but it wouldn't come cheap. The bigger hit, though, was his whaler blade. He missed the weight of it at his side, grimacing at ever considering it to be good luck. A blade was a blade, and now that needed replacing too.

Missing knives, missing blade, dead bodies. With this in mind, he could surmise he was on a job and with a job came a contract. Did he have the information on him? He padded down his jacket, the crinkle of paper faint in his ears.

He reached a spot where enough readable daylight filtered down and decided to pause, searching his pockets. He procured sleep darts, three trap mines, and the contract details. Daud's eyes unfolded the pages, smoothing creases as he skimmed the words, digesting them carefully.

Brimsley. Fink. Dog ring hit. A sizable bounty… Rulfio was supposed to have a cut. But where was he? A flash of memory tells him Rulfio backed out, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd have hated going back to that blood-torn room just to look for Rulfio's rotting body.

Reading over the details, more and more memories fell into place. Daud had followed the men and their hounds, had watched the dog fight a monster that couldn't die, had fled to kill Fink and collect the bounty, and then…

Blind eyes. An inhuman scream. Claws rending his entire face to ribbons.

He remembered all of that, the holes in his recollection filling like a puzzle. But anything following confronting Fink and getting attacked by a monster was gone. Nothing to pull from.

By all accounts, he should be dead. Very dead. Daud massaged his jaw on instinct, surprised to find it still whole. He was sure it had broken, his jugular bursting, his face shattered. He had been bleeding out. Nothing could've fixed that bad of a wound.

His mind's eye supplied him the vision of a giant monster's throat bubbling, gurgling, then somehow repairing. He felt his scratches, remembering the hot blood that should've been pouring from them, his own blood leaving far too quickly to be replaced… and yet…

And yet.

His heart rate quickened and his head and throat throbbed. He did his best to still the rising panic in his bones and let his mind rationalize. His neck was different from some monster who used magic to come back to life, to heal completely. He didn't use black magic. Maybe he was just damned lucky, not that he was out of the woods yet. Daud was alive, but still in considerable pain. He was wounded. His head spun dangerously with every stray thought. He needed to get looked at, to make sure he didn't die of infection.

But first, he needed to get paid.

He tucked the contract safely away and gathered himself the best he could. He was near the surface now; he could hear the people passing by, the shouts of guards and teachers and sellers alike. He wandered the tunnels, looking for a maintenance shaft, some way out before he was unceremoniously swept away into the Wrenhaven. He was actually near an exit when something caught his eye, glinting in the light by a blocked off drainage pipe.

It was his sword. Nearly washed away, stopped by a grate. The opening wasn't large enough for him to crawl out of, but through it, Dunwall Tower was visible, where the Kaldwins and their servants sat cushy and protected.

Daud grunted, holding no love lost for nobles and their affairs. He pulled the blade free, feeling for the notch. It caught in the thumb of his glove, nearly drawing blood, and Daud smiled.

“Lucky,” he muttered, sheathing the blade. His voice rasped painfully but he paid it no mind, just happy he still had a voice in the first place.

------

The Brimsley estate was huge and conspicuous and easy to infiltrate. Daud had few issues finding it and even fewer issues scaling the wall, even in his injured state. He was a mess; he didn't care. He didn't care that he stank of death, that his clothes were soaked black-red from a stranger's blood. He didn't care that half of his face was ripped open, raw and ragged and showing every swollen edge. A part of him revelled in it, couldn't wait to feed off the look on his contractor's face when Brimsley eventually found the assassin relaxing on the balcony, enjoying the warm, late spring evening.

His blade sat on his leg, the whetstone running cleanly across it. Every pass caused the metal to sing and smile in the dying light of the day. He felt the wind shift and heard a door close; he didn't pause his easy movement. There were two muffled voices chatting amicably, but they paused as Daud's stone ran along steel and interrupted all conversation.

Voices hushed to whispers that seemed to shout in Daud's all-too-sensitive ears. He grinned, adjusted his hood, then looked up as footsteps approached.

Brimsley screamed.

He recoiled from Daud so hard he nearly fell over; actually, he would have, if his assistant hadn't been there, gripping his arm and keeping him upright. A tray of tea spilled across the floor but nobody paid it any heed, not when Daud sat across on the balcony, looking like death warmed over.

His smile was easy, if not pained. Brimsley swiftly pissed himself.

"Brimsley." He pulled the contract from his pocket, and put his blade back into its sheath. His eyes flicked to the assistant and he stood, pulling at the edges of his hood. He walked over to Brimsley and the man, realizing that Daud was real, stammered into speaking.

"D-Daud…" he forced out, and Daud's eyes flashed, watching Brimsley carefully. "What happened? We all thought you died--"

His eyebrow quirked. "We?"

"It's been five days, Daud."

Something in his brain halted. He hadn't seen a calendar, a paper, nothing. He just came here and planned on dealing with all of the other important matters after he had the money to pay for it. But five days? He stiffened, alarms in his head blaring.

"The contract is fulfilled, just like you wanted, Brimsley." He shoved the paper with the man's signature on it into his chest. "My partner and I. The full payment. Now, if you know what's good for you."

"You completed the contract? Then--"

"The Beast is dead. So is Fink. Which means you won't be putting out dangerous contracts trapping assassins into a death ring anymore, now, will you?"

Brimsley blanched. Daud's scowl grew severe, and something in his stare unhinged the noble. He was sweating, breaking eye contact, before waving at his assistant to go get the promised sum. He tried looking at Daud, but could not manage it without retching.

"Y-your face… how did you survive?"

"What's wrong? Disappointed?" Daud growled, his throat burning from the effort. "Sad I didn't turn into dog food, too? How convenient it would have been for me to die like the others. You can be sure I won't forget about this bullshit any time soon, Brimsley."

"You can't kill me... I'm your employer!"

"Maybe today you are," Daud said, eyes tracking the return of the assistant, now carrying a hefty purse. "But tomorrow… a different client, and different contract. You never know if you'll be in the list." He aggressively pulled the purse from the assistant, then silently counted the coin. Everything was there -- everything but Rulfio's cut. Daud snarled.

"My partner is still alive. You'll give me his cut too, if you enjoy your head still existing between your shoulders."

Brimsley nodded, and the assistant was pushed away again. Daud tossed the purse in his hand before pocketing it, his face starting to burn and itch in the most unpleasant of fashions. When he next looked at Brimsley, he caught the man staring at the wounds and he bared his teeth involuntarily.

"Get Sokolov to paint me, if you want the memory to last longer." He sneered, tempted to put a hand over the wound. He doesn't; Daud never showed such weakness in front of a client. It was easier to get what he needed from contractors when he was as intimidating as possible, with or without having to resort to his blade. But something in Brimsley's gaze made him uncomfortable, the hair prickling along his neck, his hand twitching at his side before curling into a fist. He held Brimsley's stare until the man grew too uncomfortable to keep the contact, the noble's shivering frame growing sweaty.

"How did he look?" Brimsley asked, his voice hushed and breathy. "Was he wonderful? The Outsider's beast in that basement?" He then looked back to Daud. "You're one now too, aren't you?"

Daud's whaler sword was at Brimsley's neck in an instant. Brimsley flinched, but there was a smile lingering there that was vile and Daud wanted nothing more than to wipe it from his face permanently. He almost did, but the assistant returned, carrying the purse of coin slated for Rulfio. This time, Daud didn't stay to count the coin; he simply took the pouch, secured it, and left Brimsley's office as silently and stealthily as he came, his anger roaring in his ears.

------

It was late evening by the time Daud neared his current hideout: a small apartment outside of Slaughterhouse Row. The smell of whale oil was never pungent enough to scare him off like it had other residents, but now, as he pushed his way in through the door, closing it heavily with a shoulder, it was so offensive that it burned his nose and caused his head to throb. Not that it wasn't already stabbing him with pain; every movement and exertion pulled at his wounds and he could feel the blood and puss seeping unpleasantly. Nauseous and fevered, he pushed himself to the bathroom, testing to see if the water was running clean today.

It was; he thanked the Void and immediately began stripping down. His clothes were black for a reason; the stains of blood and dirt wouldn't be so noticeable, but the stench was cloying at his nostrils like never before. Since when did he become so sensitive to such things? He grimaced at the rancid smell before filling the sink with water and throwing his shirt in, letting it soak in the lye while he pulled off his remaining articles and started a shower. As the room began to steam, he forgot himself for a moment, reflexively looking towards his movement in the mirror.

And finally, he was face to face with the reality of his injury.

Daud paled, the color draining from his cheeks in real time. He would have vomited if there was anything actually in his stomach besides some nicked bread and an apple. Instead, he swallowed on the bile, taking a careful, shaking step towards the mirror.

His right eye was near swollen shut, black and purple from the bruising all around the socket. The shiner was green on the edges, before getting lost in the infected red surrounding the nasty slices in his skin. And what slices they were; they were actually thinner than he expected them to be, but deep and vicious all the same. The longest and most painful one was the one bifurcating the whole of his right face; he traced it gingerly down from forehead to neck, his pulse fluttering where the scratch fell over his jaw, his jugular…

Daud swallowed again and the wounds visibly protested. He shut his eyes, trying not to let his head swim from the scent and sight of his own skin. He uncoiled his hands, flexing, before rooting through the cabinet behind the mirror. He quickly pulled out some peroxide, some disinfecting ointment, some fancy Sokolov concoction he got after an old contract was paid, and a soft sponge. He carefully poured the peroxide on the sponge first; he hissed and snarled as the sponge hit the wounds, the sound rippling through him dangerously. He slowed; the second growl was more of a suppressed groan as he eased into the pain. He then wrung out the sponge, letting the blood and infection wash away. He then got into the shower, reveling in the scalding water and trying not to pay attention to all of the blood and grime and stink washing away from his weary body.

In the steam and under the pounding drops of water, he finally let his mind relax and wander. It wasn't long before his thoughts became intrusive; five days was a lot of days to be laying half dead in a sewer with nobody to find him. What if he had died? He supposed Rulfio would be the only one to go looking, and who's to say he actually would? Maybe to make a point, win the bet, maybe piss on Daud's corpse. He wouldn't blame him.

No. It wasn't like Rulfio to be that petty, and even if they were just business partners, they were still partners. For the past year or so, they had come to work well together and as it turns out, two assassins are better than one. Not many in their profession were willing to let others in on their trade secrets-- plus, stealth work was traditionally best done alone. But with Rulfio, he and Daud had been able to double their output. He never had such good contracts. Even if they just did business together, it was lucrative; he would still be hiding in abandoned buildings like a homeless rat instead of in an old apartment that was heated and even had hot, running water. Blessings like that were few and far between in Dunwall, with exception given to the military and noble houses.

Nobles. Daud spat in the shower, watching bloody phlegm swim around the drain. They paid well, but Daud hated every single one he's ever met. What good did they bring the world? Hoarded coins like dragons, partied while children starved and died. Commissioned bridges in their name instead of paying their workers fair wages. His face ached from the rage simmering just under his skin. His teeth itched, and he rolled a tongue over them, wondering what other unexpected side effects his gnarly wound was going to give him.

The water ran cold all too soon and Daud shivered as he pulled himself out, hardly toweling off as his tired body stumbled over itself. He had half a mind still to pull the Sokolov elixir out; he downed it in one full swig, then turned to the ointment as some strength returned to him. He dressed the wounds in a half haze, his vision beginning to blur from fever and tiredness. It was a messy job, but he was far too gone to care. As long as he slept on his back, he'd be fine. He was sure of it.

What he wasn't sure of after that was how he even made it to the rickety mattress on the other side of the apartment, throwing himself heavily onto it, swiftly letting the Void take him. ------

He tried to get through the days as normal. He really did. But every day passing was another day that the wound didn't heal right, or at all, until all Daud knew was the searing, itching heat of his wounded skin. It dominated his days, his nights; everything in between was fevered and sensitive. He heard whales crying, but not like the keening from the slaughterhouse he's used to; these cries were screams of torture, of whales falling into the Void where their bodies were destined to be desecrated for the whims of a bottomless city.

He tried to conduct business, but it was no use; his scabs were too much of a deterrent. He couldn't chance bandaging the wounds so he left them exposed, and if anyone saw him, they were terrified into vacating his premise. His self-consciousness, usually non-existent, bubbled up in his chest until finally, in a fevered state, body shaking and his breath ragged, he entered the slaughterhouse and stole a whaler mask. The smell of it was pungent and unforgettable; he resisted the urge to regurgitate (everything smelled ten times worse, everything was too much and he still didn't have the piece of mind to wonder why) and placed the mask cleanly over his face, hiding the worst of his facial offenses. Later that same night he couldn't help but notice how, even in the mirror, the long muzzle of the whaler mask suited him in a way he couldn't place. It satisfied something primal in his chest, unlocking a door that he never knew was closed. His chest swelled. He wrestled with the urge to sing.

He sneered. He never sang.

The mirror suddenly disturbed him, those glass eyes too empty, too all-knowing. He snarled, a sound that now caught in his throat and rumbled through his whole being violently, but he saw it as nothing more than his ruined vocal cords yelling at him for even attempting to make a sound.

It wasn't long after that he started looking for Rulfio. It was slow going-- over a week now and his fever still hadn't broken, he still felt weaker than he ever had-- but Daud also had a heavy purse full of a noble's blood money that he owed another assassin. However, with their last contract so far behind them (and as far as Rulfio knew, Daud was dead), tracking his partner across Dunwall was becoming an annoying chore.

Rulfio didn't have a lot of haunts. He had a few regular places, but even when Daud patrolled them, Rulfio never showed up. It made him itch, his whole body full of agitation. It was unlike the assassin; Rulfio was a man of routine. It's what made him so excellent at his job; he could count down the seconds to a kill, a literal metronome, patient and meditative. Every kill was perfectly timed, perfectly planned. So, to see him being something akin to unpunctual was too much to bear. Daud jumped off to a different roof, trying not to fear the worst for Rulfio's safety.

There was one haunt he had been avoiding; their old meetup spot. Something in Daud had nagged at him to visit sooner, but it felt redundant; Daud was a no-show to a meeting, and if an assassin was a no-show, it's best to assume they're face down in a rat-filled ditch. So what was the point in stalking that particular part of Dunwall? The city was huge -- miles across, even -- and Rulfio could choose to be anywhere. So why would he be on a familiar rooftop, waiting for a ghost to appear?

His boots landed heavy on the old concrete, muscle memory catching him before he stumbled. The potted plant overlooking a blood red sunset looked no better than it had two weeks ago, and unswept leaves scattered about his feet as he walked. Everything was untouched from his last visit-- and yet, the hair of his neck prickled, sensing immediately that he was not alone. A dark figure in the corner shifted and Daud's vision bee-lined on it, his fist clenching in apprehension.

"Come on out, then," he growled out, the words muffled behind the thick respirator the mask offered. Even so, the individual jerked and twisted at the sound of his voice. They stood up, spinning on him with a wild, desperate expression.

"Daud? That better be you, you bastard, and not Jordan playing another prank on me--"

Daud's breath hitched and he relaxed, straightening out of the predatory stance he'd taken. Rulfio scrambled forward, then slowed, eyeing the mask critically. "It is you, isn't it? Daud-- Spirits--..." The man hesitated, then grasped at Daud's arm, as if to make sure he was real, and not some smoke-induced mirage. Daud huffed.

"Of course it's me, Rulfio, I'm the only other person who would even think to look for you here." That seemed to ease all of Rulfio's remaining fears. He looked Daud over and stepped back, his nose curling at the mask.

"Outsider's ass, Daud, you crazy bastard. What the fuck happened? It's been weeks."

Daud turned his head away, not bearing to look Rulfio straight on even through the heavy whaler mask. In response, he pushed the coin purse into Rulfio's hand.

"Contract's done. Fink is dead. And I made sure Brimsley coughed up your respective pay." Rulfio looked at the money in disbelief; mouth agape, he counted through the coin. Daud tilted his head, triumphant. "Told you I'd win our bet."

Rulfio huffed a laugh, the edges of his beard crinkling in a smile. "You really are a son of the Outsider, you know that, Daud? Shit." He then gave the mask a more critical eye, his eyes flicking to Daud's visible sliver of neck. Daud stiffened, and a very strong part of his brain wished to flee as far and fast as his body could take him.

He stayed, fist clenched.

"So, what's up with the mask? Not like you to hide your face."

Daud shifted, and the mask jerked as he looked around. "My face has been bad for business."

"Bad for business?" Rulfio laughed, unbelieving. "Get better lies, Daud. You're always the face of our contracts, as if you wanna be the most famous assassin in Dunwall."

Daud huffed, his breath hot on the leather.

"Just-- look. You'll see what I mean." He unlatched the mask, unraveling the sizing band and pulling the article off his face.

Rulfio's expression dropped. His eyes darted away, then he covered his mouth, muffling a curse. Daud's stomach turned at the reaction.

"Daud? What the fuck? What the fuck?"

"The cheater in the contract had a souped up dog, or something." A monster, an abomination of flesh and fur. "It hit me, but I was able to walk away alive."

"Are you sure?" Rulfio's voice painfully broke on the question. His fists curled, quivering at his sides. "Daud, have you seen yourself?"

Daud sneered, the skin of face pulling and itching unpleasantly. He smothered the urge to claw the wounds open. "You asked why I'm wearing a mask, and then you ask if I've seen my own reflection lately? Are you an idiot, Rulfio? Of course I know how bad this looks!" His hand gestured to his face, his neck, his pulse suddenly throbbing against the wounds. "I'm not dead yet, and besides, I still owed you your cut of the profits!"

"You should have died," Rulfio said softly, his voice barely a whisper but ringing all too loudly in Daud's ears. "That wound… there's no way it hit your neck and didn't sever your jugular. How are you still alive?"

Daud's ears filled with rushing wind. He snarled, showing his teeth. Rulfio stepped back, his eyes on Daud's expression. Daud caught the movement; he exhaled, deflating.

"Lucky, I guess."

Rulfio's face was unconvinced, his eyes dark under heavy brows.

"There's something you're not telling me, Daud."

In his brain, Daud replayed the memory of that giant whale of a wolf, that disgusting, shredded monster and it's neck, sizzling and smoking and knitting itself back together. Instinctively, he brought a hand up to his neck, stopping just short of ripping at his wounds, at giving in to that bone-deep ache and gouging new, fresh lines into his skin. Rulfio watched the movement, his eyes holding too much concern, and Daud hated it. He was an assassin, for fuck's sake. He wasn't some child, and even when he was, he was already killing, shoving sharp bits of metal into his assailant's eyes. He didn't need the pity resting in Rulfio's black eyes.

He growled, anger boiling hot under his skin, but Daud didn't give in to his urges. His hand dropped, his breathing hard and his ears ringing.

"It's nothing you need to worry about Rulf. I dealt with it weeks ago."

Had he? Something told him yes, you did, but he had no memory, nothing to say that the giant dog was actually dead and buried.

Just… an instinct. An unreliable, unnecessary, instinct.

"Yeah, and I'm looking at the blood money result of that, right?" Rulfio huffed, turning from Daud to look at the setting sun. "So, picked up any other contracts since then?"

Sensing the conversation shifting but also feeling his limbs buzzing unpleasantly, Daud pushed the mask back up over his face. There was a comfort in hiding behind it, though Rulfio didn't seem to share his sentiment. He watched the mask slip back on with disdain.

"It doesn't suit you."

"I don't remember asking your opinion," Daud shot back, defensive.

Rulfio shrugged. Daud sighed, the air hissing out the respirator.

"I have not picked up any contracts," Daud supplied, answering Rulfio's earlier question. "I wanted to get you your payment first, that and…" he trailed off, his shrug trying to hide his unease. "These scratches have been a liability for clients. Believe it or not, my face really is bad for business, right now."

"Can't imagine why," Rulfio needled him, and Daud prickled in response. Rulfio seemed to sense his annoyance and just smirked. He walked back over to Daud, pulling a stack of papers out of his pockets. "Got a few that I picked up, seemed like they might be good for--well, for me, at least." He passes the paper to Daud. "Most of these are enough for a singular assassin to accomplish, no problem. If you need work, you could probably take one of these off me."

Daud nodded, looking through each contract. One was for offing a sex offender, another of just stealing a gem from a noble for a noble, another was a hit for killing-- Daud growled and balled that piece of paper up, throwing it over the roof. Rulfio looked at him, protesting, but Daus held up a hand.

"I don't murder kids, you know that," he murmured, dangerously. Rulfio stiffened, then looked at where the crumpled paper had fallen, three stories down. Rulfio murmured out an apology, an 'I must've misread that one in the pile," but Daud shoved him off before finally taking a contract out of the stack.

"It's fine. I got my hit." Rulfio looked at him curiously, but Daud pointed to the fine print.

Seeking a headhunter for con man Eustace Fink, who led my sons to what I can only assume was a drowning under the Hound Pits Pub. Will be willing to part with 200 silver for anyone who can find and apprehend this criminal for me!!

The post mark was two weeks ago. Rulfio wrinkled his nose in clear disgust.

"200 silver? No wonder nobody has taken that job, it's not paying nearly enough."

"That's fine; it's my hit anyway."

"What? Daud, you're worth double that in gold, it's not like you to sell yourself short."

"I'm not-- this is-- do you not recognize the name?" Every syllable dripped with more hatred; Daud could nearly feel his body ripple with the anger. "This is the brother of the man I nearly died killing." And he knows shit I don't, Daud all but growled out. Rulfio raised an eyebrow.

"Revenge, huh? Suits you as much as that mask does," Rulfio murmured. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay, Daud?"

He folded the contract into his jacket, pulling his hood up. His movements were jerky, pained.

"I'll be fine, Rulf. Don't follow me on this one. I'll handle it on my own and see you here when it's finished."

"You can keep the 200 silver, Daud," he laughed, but Daud was already hopping from the rooftop, leaving Rulfio and his words behind.

Eustace Fink would have answers, he reasoned to himself. He knew what his brother had been up to, was complicit in the act. So when Daud found him, he'd be sure wring every dirty little secret out of him before slicing his neck open like a disgraced lover.

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