#but the consequences of trying to reach out directly to an enemy here instead of trusting intermediaries who could lie or sugarcoat… prompt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adeleoflochnes · 1 year ago

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SOUKOKU

I hope you'll like it, I hope you'll enjoy it...

2.5k

warning: none actually just some edging, smut, bandage, denying short plot plus light smut

it was one of the rare days when Dazai's to be found in his Port Mafia office. And he wasn't trying to hang, poison, shoot himself or jump out of the window... Today he was getting some actual shit done. He was in the middle of organizing some papers and mission reports when a pair of soft hands wrapped around his waist.

Dazai was aware that someone came in, though he was not prepared the someone to do this directly.

"Well well... What a curious secretary you are?" said Dazai while turning around.

What a surprise it was to find not a young lady, but his opponent Chuuya before him! Dazai stopped himself mid-thinking. Not even he was able to fully cover his surprise.

*SLAP*

Dazai's hand landed swiftly and elegantly on Chuuya's cheek.

"What the fuck!" said the smaller person while holding his face. Chuuya's cheek was starting burning red with both pain and anger.

"Don't put your tiny dirty hands on me." was Dazai's answer.

"Who do you think you're calling tiny!"

While leaning down and closer to Chuuya'S face: "You of course"

Normally this would lead to some lovely argument, which Dazai would fully enjoy, but this time Chuuya only let out a stream of air through his nostrils and much to Dazai's disappointment continued like nothing happened.

"The boss is asking for your reports."

"Right, I was just finishing them."

"Then finish them faster!"

Dazai thought about waving the papers above his head to make Chuuya more pissed, but then decided, he liked his leg bones more than that. Instead, he said: "My my, who made you so edgy today?" Dazai was smiling, because he was sure it must have been him. Who else than him had the talent to make the small time bomb blow.

"Sounds like none of your business to me," said Chuuya, tearing the papers out of Dazai's hand and quickly storming out of the office. Dazai shrugged his shoulders and let the whole scene go. He sat behind his table and continued with his boring paperwork.

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

Chuuya had enough. He was tired and pissed and that fool Dazai was not helping to make his day better. He felt like everything he had done went either sideways or to Hell directly.

Chuuya's men today fucked up a mission and two of their enemies got away and he wasn't able to catch them. Chuyya was their lead so of course it was him who carried the consequences and had to explain everything to the boss. Mori was not at all happy with him and made it painfully clear. Dazai was getting on his nerves more than usual and now when Chuuya was thinking about it, he was sure he hadn't eaten the whole day.

The worst part was, that today wasn't even near to its over. Chuuya had several meetings before him and his mood was on its lovest by now.

So when Chuuya got finally home, he was craving just some relaxation in a hot bath with a glass of wine and his soft bed. But that was not what he found when he came home...

After fighting with his keys, Chuuya finally reached his apartment. He let out a big sigh of relief, but he wasn't let to enjoy any piece.

Second later there was the voice, Chuuya wished to hear the least. "Ah finally! What took you so long Chuuyaaa? I'm dying of boredom here!"

It was Dazai, who was comfortably laid on the couch of Chuuya's apartment.

"Shit!" Chuuya hissed through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?!"

"Waiting for you obviously" Dazai was smirking at him, thinking it was just a normal type of playful fight.

"Fuck off and get out of my flat! I'm not in the mood for you jackass!"

"Why so offensive, dear Chuuya?" Dazai continue chuckling.

"First of all I've never allowed you to come here, but you do it anyways!!"

"Because you want me here and you know it..." Dazai purred as he stood up from the couch. Chuuya clenched his fists.

"I said! Get! OUT!" Chuuya yelled from full lungs. "Are you so stupid, you don't even understand the simplest thing in the world?!"

Now Dazai understood what was going on, but he was determind, that things would go as he pleased. Dazai now walked towards Chuuya. His carefree smile disappearing to a much more stern expression.

"Are you yelling at me Chuuya?" Dazai warned, but his partner was too far now to stop on his own

"You think motherfucker?!"

"You shouldn't do that," Dazai growled. He was now standing close to Chuuya, who used it to throw a huge punch. Chuuya was aiming right for Dazai's face, but his fist never landed.

Dazai simply cached his fist with one hand and didn't even flinch. He was looking straight into Chuuya's fueling eyes. Then, so fast his opponent couldn't even register it Dazai used his free hand to press Chuuya's acupuncture point. Chuuya immediately collapsed into his arms.

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

Dazai was sitting comfortably in a chair watching Chuuya carefully. The corners of his mouth jolting up as he was trying to hide his amusement. His partner was still fast asleep before him. In Dazai's mind were playing several scenarios of what will happen when Chuuya's going to finally woke up...

Fortunately for Dazai, it didn't take long and Chuuya's eyes fluttered open. During the first seconds, Chuuya was trying to understand how he ended up in his bed, asking himself what happened?

Dazai carefully watched as Chuuya tried to sit up, but found out he couldn't. It was at this moment when Chuuya acknowledged the position he was located in.

He was lying on his back on the bed sheets. His hands were tied above his head, very tightly and uncomfortably. A sudden shiver runs down Chuuya's spine as a sudden cold hits his skin. He raised his head to look at himself and to his big concern Chuuya found out that the only piece of clothing left to him were his briefs.

Then Chuuya finally noticed Dazai sitting on his chair across the room with a very pleased smirk on his face. Chuuya quickly looked from side to side, as if he was looking for some help. This made Dazai's smile grow even wider.

"Wha-- eh-- What the heck?" Chuuya stuttered out. his words were much less confident than moments ago...

"I think you know what's going on Chuuya" purred Dazai, staring intensely at his little pray.

"What the--- I didn't do anything!"

"Don't play stupid now," said Dazai as he got up and made his way to bend over Chuuya on the bed. "I planned on having a nice evening with you, but YOU came home only to yell at me. What you said wasn't at all polite. I did not like it and I won't tolerate this behaviour of yours," Dazai's voice was stern and clear, but Chuuya didn't seem to realise what was the situation.

Dazai continued, softer this time: "I have a soft spot for you, which you know Chuuya. I'll give you a chance to apologise and maybe I'll go gently on you."

"Chance?! First of all, this is my apartment and I can do whatever--"

"Too late, bad answer." Dazai didn't even let him finish, he knew too well where this was going, but Chuuya wasn't following.

Chuuya's tied hands formed into fists and started glowing, but Dazai was faster. He grabbed Chuuya's chin forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Don't make it harder for yourself fool. There's no way out of this for you now," Dazai let his words sink into Chuuya's mind and when he felt him relent a bit, he continued sternly.

"Are you gonna be good now?"

Chuuya didn't answer right away, considering his chances. Eventually, he nodded, but he was avoiding to look the other in the eyes.

Dazai clicked his tongue and said displeased: "You know the rules stupid head."

Chuuya huffed and stared back at Dazai. "Yes, I'll be good," He growled through gritten teeth. Dazai hummed, satisfied with his answer.

He took his time and kneeled on the bed next to Chuuya. Dazai's hand slid teasingly down Chuuya's torso and rested on his covered crotch, his other hand started playing with his nipple. Dazai knew better than to break the touch with the other's skin. He couldn't be sure yet, not until he bends him to his will.

Dazai started to move his hand very slowly against the fabric of Chuuya's boxers. Even though his touch was light Chuuya felt the sparks running through his body. His jaw was clenched tightly as he was trying to hide these effects from Dazai behind an angry mask.

Dazai's hand become heavier, pushing more on Chuuya's member and making more friction. It was becoming harder for him to stay in his mad state. Dazai was watching him intensely and noticing every detail, he was reading him like an open book. Dazai knew that Chuuya was trying to stay mad at him, but he couldn't deny he liked what Dazai was doing to him. Deep down Chuuya knew he wanted to give in and let Dazai have his way with his body. Dazai knew it as well and he was determind to get what he wanted. So he pushed harder and gave Chuuya's dick a squeeze. Chuuya inhaled sharply and now there was no way back.

He was hard and needy for more. He let out a grunt and let his hips buck into Dazai's touch. That was the moment Dazai knew he won. He continued working Chuuya harder, wanting to hear more from him. His other hand roamed Chuuya's torso and belly, eventually stopping to pinch his nipple.

After a few more minutes Chuuya was becoming a mess his hips moving on their own, his eyes were closed and he was bathing in those sensations running through him. Just when he thought he gathered himself enough to tease the other one, Dazai's hand yanked Chuuya's underwear off and his hand grabbed Chuuya's cock firmly. Gripping him almost painfully and working him fast with his hand.

Chuuya was gasping as shocks of pleasure were shooting through his whole body. He let out several moans and was nearing the edge very fast. Chuuya was so close. He held his breath preparing for the finish, but then all the movement stopped. Chuuya let out a confused whimper. He opened his eyes and looked pleadingly at Dazai, but the punisher just smirked down at his prey.

"Ow don't tell me you thought it would be so easy for you? Dumb head I'm nowhere close to being done with you."

Chuuya opened his mouth to protest, but instead he let out a loud moan. Dazai resumed his previous pace of hard strokes. Chuuya threw his head back and his peak was building again.

"AHH! D-Dazai! I--- Please, please I'm so, so close."

"Oh, I can see that. Do you want to come, my dear?"

"Yes! Please Dazai nnngh. Please"

But instead, Dazai stopped and when Chuuya tried to protest he was met with a sharp answer.

"You thought it would be this easy for you? You have to earn this, don't forget." Then Dazai smirked devilishly at Chuuya: "Shall we continue?"

This continued for several minutes and several rounds. By the end, Chuuya was completely desperate. He wasn't sure if he wanted to continue or stop immediately. Tears streamed down his face and his whole body was aching. Chuuya's cock was throbbing and twitching. He needed to come so badly, but Dazai would not let him. Chuuya was panting and sobbing when Dazai stopped once again, but this time he got up leaving whimpering Chuuya on the bed with hands still tied up.

He didn't go far and after Chuuya calmed down a little Dazai came back, now bare. His own excitement was very noticeable.

"Now Chuuya, do you think you're ready to finish this?" he said softly.

Chuuya sobbed and nodded: "Yes. Daz--" He was interrupted by a passionate kiss. Dazai gently brushed the tears away with his thumbs while holding Chuuya's head. When he pulled away both of them were breathing heavily.

"You have been so good for me," said Dazai while turning his attention to his lover's neck and left there a few hickeys."So good for me. You took it very well dear."

Chuuya whined impatiently and Dazai hushed him: "Shhhhh, I know don't worry I got you Chuu."

Dazai then grabbed Chuuya's hips and turned him around to lay on his tummy. Dragging his ass up Chuuya whimpered again.

"Dazai, please. I need you. I need you now!"

"Still so eager are we? Alright, I'll give you what you need."

Dazai took his cock pumping himself a few times and spreading the precum. Then he lined himself with Chuuya's tight hole and leaned over him. His lips slightly brushed over Chuuya's ear.

"Tell my how badly you want me."

"Too badly. I want you so mu-- ahh!"

Dazai pushed all the way in at once and Chuuya hissed at the sudden stretch. Giving Chuuya time to accommodate to his size, Dazai kissed down Chuuya's spine. Then he started trusting in and out slowly and carefully, but making sure to hit all the right spots.

Chuuya was totally overwhelmed, making incoherent erotic sounds... He was a mess under Dazai and he loved it. Dazai sped up and gave in to the pleasure. "Jeeze, y-you're so tight!"

Now they were both moaning. Chuuya was biting down on his pillows and Dazai was instead biting Chuuya's shoulders.

"*moan* Daziii, please. Aaahh! Go faster."

"Faster darling?"

"Yes. I need more. Give me more."

"As you wish love," said Dazai and started smacking into Chuuya in unholy peace. Growling and grunting. They were both coming closer and closer to reaching their orgasms. They were moaning loudly carefree of anything else than the other one.

"Chu- Chuuya I'm close. I'm so close."

Chuuya was pulling hard on his restring and the rope was biting into his skin. He was cursing under his breath. CHuuya needed to come. He needed it more than anything else.

"Cum with me Dazai. Common babe --- cum with me."

And with a few more thrusts Dazai filled Chuuya to the brim, who followed right after, making a mess of the sheets beneath him. They both collapsed on the bed panting and completely spent.

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

After Dazai composed himself, he untied Chuuya's hands and rubbed them carefully, helping the soreness to fade away. He brushed the messy hair out of Chuuya's face.

"How are you doing sweet?"

"Mm good..."

"Common, let me take care of you."

Dazai picked him up a bridle style and carried him to the bathroom. After cleaning them both, he changed the sheets, laid Chuuya back and slipped under the covers next to him. He pulled him close and wrapped his long limbs around Chuuya.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am now," Chuuya answered still a bit shaky.

"May I know what happened today?" Dazai asked very softly and kissed Chuuya's crown. Chuuya took a deep breath and then told his secret boyfriend about everything. Dazai listened carefully and occasionally kissed him on random spots.

"I bet it will be alright. You'll figure out how to fix it all, I'm sure my dear."

"Thank you Dazai," said Chuuya sleepily. "I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too Chuu. Good night."

the end

#fiction #soukoku #dazai x chuuya #smut #male x male

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sniper-childe · 4 years ago

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Hello! I’d like to share some of my notes if I were to Beta-read the most recent Archon Quest. I will be going through what worked, what could be taken out, and what could’ve been better. Note that I’m looking at this through an editor’s lens so I’m going to try NOT to change the plot we were given no matter what my opinions are about it BUT some of the said opinions may slip out.

Also, a bit of a disclaimer: I know that Genshin isn’t an actual literary work but miHoYo is known for its writers’ great storytelling and I’ve always loved their work so it really came as a surprise as to what happened to the mess that is Inazuma Act 3. So yeah.

Contains:

1. What was foreshadowed about the characters and why the payoff of their portrayals felt cheap.

a. About Kokomi and the rebellion.

b. About the Fatui, the James Bond villain wannabe.

c. About Ei and the Raiden Shogun.

2. How Chapter 2, Act 3 could have been the turning point that would have us, as the Traveler, cement our perceptions of the Archons and Gods of Celestia OR what I think the death of Signora was supposed to be but was undermined by this one tidbit.

BONUS: I wrote this before Kokomi’s story quest was released but decided to wait for it before posting. And guess what? I think Kokomi’s Story Quest works better as an Archon Quest. At least, some parts of it.

miHoYo teased us this intelligent leader of the resistance that is well-versed in the Art of War. The end of Ch2: Act 2 showed us a powerful Kokomi. So why was she sidelined all throughout the act?

I actually like the idea of the resistance asking the Fatui for aid. But miHoYo chickened out and made it so that they did it unknowingly. To which I say: how? If Kokomi was so smart she should’ve known better. I figured it was the Fatui within a single sentence, so why didn’t Kokomi?

They should’ve stuck with the concept of the underdogs – or in Kokomi’s words, the little fish – of war in an act of desperation. They could’ve shown a calculated Kokomi “making a deal with the devil” and will do anything to win the fight against the Shogunate.

In her Character Teaser, she was willing to burn the enemies’ supplies – to starve the enemy. She can be ruthless, that’s why Kokomi actively giving Delusions to her foot soldiers would have made much more sense to cause the Fatui to be involved rather than the whole “the Fatui orchestrated everything” schtick.

Which brings me to my next point: when did the Fatui turn into a James Bond villain? I hate that trope so much. It’s like the Deus Ex Machina of villainy. It’s lazy. And it doesn’t even fit the Fatui’s modus operandi.

In the prologue, the Abyss Order corrupted Dvalin and the Fatui was just there waiting to steal Barbatos’ gnosis while the Knights are distracted. Morax decided to retire one day so the Fatui swept right in and offered a test of Liyue in exchange for his gnosis.

The last two locations had their own story to tell while the Fatui was just in the background like the opportunistic antagonist that they are.

It also would have been a stronger plotline to have the already set lore – like the tenuous relationship between Watatsumi and Narukami – be the driving force of the Inazuman Civil War.

The prologue and chapter 1 also delivered what we are told we’re going to get in the Story Preview. That’s why they are satisfying. However, with chapter 2, the way it ended turned out to be more about the Fatui rather than “what do mortals see of the eternity chased after by their god.”

Sure, we got the consequences of the war in the World Quests and some of it in the second act. But making the Fatui the Big Bad in the end takes value away from the actions of the characters that are supposed to be the main feature of this chapter.

How much of the Eternity the Raiden Shogun is pursuing is directly from Ei? How much of it is its own understanding of eternity, coupled with Ei’s memories, and its own response? How much of it is the Fatui’s influence?

I have to say though, I’m fine with the puppet actually. Believe it or not. I have had kinda figured that out with the weird shifting of emotions in and out of the puppet. And the dead glowing eyes. So kudos to the design and animation team for that foreshadowing.

It was also said that the current Electro Archon lost someone dear to her and, while I didn’t think it was a twin, I did figure that the current Electro Archon wasn’t the real Electro Archon. So the whole Baal and Beelzebul backstory didn’t really surprise me. So I guess that was foreshadowed too? But my friends didn’t feel the same way so I don’t know. I’m not touching that.

But I do agree that all of the new lore got info-dumped to us by Yae rather than have us find out about them. To be honest, I would have wanted the backstory of Ei to be in her story quest rather than it be in the Archon Quest. A World Quest could work too.

I just feel like the 2.1 Archon Quest ended up cramming so many themes and subplots when it should’ve been focusing on what was promised: the darkness that is brought by their god.

They already had set up the Visions are people’s motivations/ambitions and that taking them away also takes away their agency.

Then they could’ve played with the idea of the people of Watatsumi looking up to Kokomi as their pseudo-god in-place of Orobashi and so with her actively giving Delusions could fit well in the said theme.

They could’ve made Ei and Kokomi character foils of each other and have the final showdown be about them.

And then it’ll all, of course, end up with the people of Inazuma learning how to work without their “gods” or something like that, which is the overarching theme of the whole series if you think about it.

But as I said, my opinions about the plot shouldn’t matter and I’m only here to make what was already written better.

So let’s talk about something that the puppet has done which didn’t make any sense on the surface level but could’ve been clever if it was done right. Killing La Signora.

Okay. So there is a pivotal moment at the end of the first arc of a three-act story where the main character experiences something that will leave them no choice but to move forward. This usually is a physical thing like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. But it can also be a mental or emotional situation.

Over at Honkai, the first arc ended with the death of a beloved mentor and a shattered world (both external and internal). The characters had no choice but to step up and “to stay alive, bravely” (yes, I won’t stop using this line ever). It was so very well done and even after so many years it still hurt no matter how many times you reread/rewatch the scene.

This reread value is what shows how much a twist is well written.

And that is what miHoYo is known for. So I had high expectations with the plot twist (technically this pivotal moment is called a plot twist because it twists the feel and/or pace of the story). Chapter 2 is the perfect spot to end the first act of a seven-chaptered story. So I’m really preparing myself for the inevitable twist.

But then we ended up with Signora’s death.

Okay. So. They could have used that to show us, as the traveler, how Archons and Celestial beings are unfeeling and not to be trusted. We were told this repeatedly by Dainsleiff and by the Abyss Twin. But it is only textbook writing 101 to show NOT tell.

And Signora’s death could have been this portrayal. Although, to be honest, it would have been more impactful if the one who died is a friend of the Traveler.

Them seeing someone die at the hands of an Archon could have their idea of gods shift. Because there is no turning back once you see the proof right in front of your eyes.

But instead, the puppet did it. So what was the point of Signora’s death if not just a power demonstration? We already knew that the Raiden Shogun is powerful. So why did Signora have to die?

Sure, one can argue that the puppet was enacting the Ei’s will so maybe there was a point. But! In Ei’s story quest, we were told that the puppet would have no hesitation when it comes to killing whereas Ei can show mercy.

Which begs, again, the question: how much of the Raiden Shogun’s actions is a reflection of Ei’s will, and how much of it is a logic response of an artificial intelligence from Ei’s memories?

Honestly? I don’t like that they killed off Signora. It doesn’t feel right. I would’ve taken Beidou’s death over Signora’s no matter how much I love Beidou. There was just no build-up to it and it feels weak. I… didn’t feel anything besides confusion. The anger only came later because of the wasted potential.

But overall, I do think they could’ve made it work if it were actually Ei doing the killing.

So I just did Kokomi’s Story Quest and man. The soldiers wanting to continue the war is what they really should have made the motivations of the actual war rather than have it as a post-war response and then have Kokomi fix their mess.

Seriously. While it was really interesting to see the usual trauma response of soldiers who had only known war their whole life, they wasted this idea, man.

Before doing the Archon Quest I had thought that the Watatsumi had a hand on the Vision Hunt Decree. Because if I were a tactician, I would have made something to anger the people of my enemies and have them have their internal issues. And while the Shogunate is weak, that’s when I will strike and claim Inazuma for my people and my god.

Then Orobashi will rise once more.

Yep.

Obviously, I really wanted Kokomi to be a more active character in the Archon Quest.

Anyways. If you reached the end, thank you for reading this ~1.5k words of musings. Tell me what you think. Or don’t. You do you.

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monstersdownthepath · 4 years ago

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5e Otherworldly Patron: The Mother of Filth

scratching squirming skitter gnawing swarming stalking slither clawing wasting breeding dripping screaming rotting feeding sickness dreaming

Something is wrong with you. There’s this itch, this... foulness you cannot alleviate. You picked it up from somewhere, something, someone, and it hasn’t lessened in the time you’ve had it. A persistent cough, a rash you cannot get rid of, some sour taste at the back of your throat, some crawling within your ears, or nose, or behind your eye. It’s something, it’s there, it won’t go away. An illness, you’ve told yourself. A simple disease. It will pass, you’ve said, it will pass in time.

it has been years.

Years of this. These symptoms, these rashes and sores and blisters, this coughing and sneezing and aching and fever. It’s made you pitiful. No one will look at you anymore, not directly. They’ll talk to you, yes, but only if you talk to them first. Sometimes, though, they’ll act like they can’t hear you. Many of them don’t even seem to notice as you move towards them, silently standing aside to let you pass without interrupting whatever they were doing. Sometimes it seems like they don’t even know they’re ignoring you.

Maybe you’ve started taking advantage of that, maybe you cannot stand it, but once you realized it was happening, something in you changed. Your sickness became worse, the symptoms more pronounced. Nothing could alleviate them. And then, a... thing formed inside you. A lump or a weight in your belly, or your chest, or your head. Now that it’s here, it feels... strange. It’s not comforting, but you feel it’s natural. Like this was supposed to happen, some logical progression of whatever foulness has seeped into you. In a way, you feel like you expected it. Maybe you were even waiting for it.

Now, in your fevered dreams, you swear there’s something else in them with you. Something trying to communicate with you. There are no words you understand, merely feelings. Ideas. Sensations. Some sort of... directions or instructions. In your addled mind, you’ve found yourself wondering: just what would happen if you followed them?

EXPANDED SPELL LIST The following spells are added to the Warlock spell list for you:

1st: Grease, Ray of Sickness

2nd: Web, Blindness/Deafness

3rd: Stinking Cloud, Feign Death

4th: Greater Invisibility, Giant Insect

5th: Cloudkill, Insect Plague

-Miserable Pity

By 1st level, you’ve already lived with this illness for years. It’s made you an unapproachable creature, a leper, something that mortal minds view with a mix of pity and fear; others will interact with you if you interact with them, but most of them will unconsciously avoid looking at you, listening to you, and especially avoid touching you.

This does have its benefits: Once per short or long rest as a reaction to being targeted with an attack or a spell attack, you may force the attack roll or spell attack roll to be made with disadvantage by momentarily revealing your pitiful nature. In addition, this pity largely prevents you from suffering penalties when interacting with other living creatures, as they subconsciously refuse to notice how much the sickness has taken from you. In their minds, while you don’t appear healthy, you at least resemble a functioning member of society. Undead, constructs, and most animals can see through this aura; aside from verminous creatures or well-trained mounts, animals will often refuse to approach you, shrinking away unless pressed into the interaction, which could have consequences. Certain other creatures, such as Fiends or Celestials, may also see past this aura of pity as well at the DMs discretion.

-Averted Eyes

This subconscious ignorance of your presence has an additional benefit: At 1st level, you gain proficiency with Stealth. If you are already proficient, your proficiency bonus for this skill is doubled.

-Scratching Squirming Skitter Gnawing

inside you feel them inside chewing eating everything else that would hurt you. they’re your allies, not your enemies. Certainly, it may have hurt at first, it may have been repulsive at first, but they’re here to help. They’re here to provide for you, protect you.

At 6th level, your body plays host to grotesque parasites that conditions you to things far worse. You’re bolstered against foul elements, if only because there’s less of you to affect. You become resistant to Poison damage, have advantage on saving throws to avoid becoming Poisoned, and you are unharmed by any disease you contract, though you still bear their symptoms and contagious diseases you contract remain contagious. Diseases you contract never heal on their own.

-Swarming Stalking Slither Clawing

Some days in the past you’ll wake up to find a rodent or roach perched on your chest. Now, though, there’s significantly more. Vermin crawl within your clothes, skittering across your skin, nesting in your hair. They mean you no harm, nor will they cause any. In time, you may grow used to them. You may love them as they love you.

At level 10, each time you complete a short or long rest, vermin will gather onto your person, attracted by the call of your illness. They move to shield your body from attacks, granting you temporary HP equal to your Warlock level. While you have any temporary HP from this ability you have resistance to Necrotic damage. In addition, verminous creatures (such as rats and mice, centipedes, flies, spiders, etc) will never willingly attack you unless you cause them harm first.

Your Miserable Pity ability keeps others from noticing your vermin coating just as easily as it kept them from noticing your pox.

-A Mother’s Love

New life. That’s all that it is. New and beautiful. Others call it Filth, call it garbage, or waste, or even worse: A plague, an infection, a cancer. They can’t understand; this isn’t a plague, it’s a blessing.

At 14th level, the Mother gives you a grand gift. A piece of her manifests within you, a tumorous growth that partially emerges from an unobtrusive location on your body, such as your stomach or back. This bloated thing alerts you to incoming danger and can even take hold of your spells for you should your attention falter. You gain Blindsense out to 10ft, able to sense hidden or invisible creatures within that radius. In addition, if your concentration on a spell is broken, you may use your reaction to re-establish a hold on the magic, as though your concentration was never lost. Once you do this, you must complete a long rest before doing it again.

-------

INVOCATIONS

-------

Hacking Cough Prereq: Mother of Filth patron

As an action, you can share your misery, retching and coughing upon a creature within 10ft of you. That creature must succeed a Constitution save versus your Warlock spell DC or become poisoned for 1 minute. A creature poisoned in this way may make a Constitution save at the end of their turn to end the condition, but they take 1d4 Poison damage on a failure. Once you’ve used this ability a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, you must complete a long rest before doing so again.

Scrounger Prereq: Mother of Filth patron

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and you have been desperate for a very, very long time. You gain proficiency in Constitution saving throws, and can consume rotted or diseased food and drink without suffering any consequences.

Record of Roaches Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, Pact of the Tome

Your Book of Shadows is replaced with an unnerving, chitin-covered tome. While in possession of this tome, you may conjure a swarm of ravenous roaches in a 10ft cube within 30ft of you as an action. This space is difficult terrain, and creatures entering it or beginning their turn in it take 1d6 magical slashing and 1d6 Poison damage. This corrupted space lingers for 1 minute, or until you use this ability again. You may use this feature three times, and regain all uses after a long rest.

Dripping Blade Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, Pact of the Blade

Your pact weapon becomes coated in a layer of toxic grime. A creature damaged by your pact weapon takes an additional 1d6 Poison damage. If you critically strike an enemy with your pact weapon or strike a creature who is not aware of you, that creature becomes infected with Sewer Plague, which incubates and progresses as normal.

Fecund Familiar Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, Pact of the Chain

When summoning a new familiar, instead of choosing an empowered familiar from the Pact of the Chain, you may instead summon two of the following in any combination: a spider, a rat, a bat, or a cockroach (use the statistics of a crab). Both of these creatures are your familiars and share a mind split between multiple bodies. At level 10, you may maintain three familiars at the same time. At level 16, you may have four.

Filthy Friends Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, level 5

Sometimes they were all you had. As an action, you may command vermin from your surroundings to a single point within 60ft of you that you can see, summoning either a Swarm of Insects or a Swarm of Rats in that space. These swarms will obey your mental commands until brought to 0 HP or until 1 minute passes, at which point they disperse. Once you use this ability, you must complete a short or long rest to do so again.

Tatterdemalion Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, lvl 6

Over the course of a long rest, you can construct a piecemeal armor for yourself from rags, scavenged leather, and broken metal bits. Wearing this makes your AC equal 10 + your Constitution modifier + your Charisma modifier. Only you or another Warlock of the Mother of Filth can benefit from this armor, and it may be enchanted as normal armor can be, if you desire.

Pernicious Poison Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, lvl 7

Poison damage you inflict with your Warlock spells and abilities does full damage to creatures with resistance to Poison, and upon reaching level 12, your poisons deal half damage to creatures immune to Poison. In addition, once per long rest, you may use your bonus action to select a single creature within 100ft that you can see, infesting them with insidious Filth. That creature loses any immunity to the poisoned condition it has and gains vulnerability to Poison damage. At the start of that creature’s turn, it may make a Constitution save against your Warlock spell save DC to end this effect.

Don’t Ignore Me Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, lvl 8

If they won’t look at you, you’ll take advantage of it. Once per turn, you can deal an extra 2d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon. You don't need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn't incapacitated, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll. At level 12, this damage increases to 3d6, and it increases to 4d6 at level 16.

Vermin Lord Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, level 10

You can cast Dominate Beast at will as a 5th level spell without expending a spell slot, but only to control verminous creatures (an insect, arachnid, or rodent Beast with an Int of 2 or less). This control lasts for 10 minutes and requires no concentration from you, but you may only maintain control of up to 5 creatures at a time (a swarm counts as 1 creature). Controlling a new one ends the oldest instance of the effect. You cannot target the same creature with this effect again until you complete a long rest.

Retching Wretch Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, level 10, Hacking Cough

Your Hacking Cough’s range becomes 30ft. Whenever you successfully poison a creature with Hacking Cough, choose one of the following options:

Clawing, Gnawing: The creature is wracked with muscle aches. As long as it is poisoned, it takes a -2 penalty to Strength and Dexterity-based attack rolls, skill checks, and saving throws.

Dreaming, Screaming: The creature is afflicted with a terrible delirium and fever. As long as it is poisoned, it takes a -2 penalty to Intelligence and Wisdom-based attack rolls, skill checks, and saving throws.

Plaguebringer Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, level 10

You add Infestation and Contagion to your list of spells known. These are Warlock spells for you, and do not count towards your total spells known. You may cast Infestation as a bonus action so long as you still have temporary HP from Swarming Stalking Slither Crawling.

Contaminate Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, lvl 12

As an action, you can will the Filth to well up from the world around you, choking the ground and air. The Filth coats a 30ft radius around you with noxious gas, slick muck, and crawling things, transforming it into difficult terrain for everyone but you. Any creature besides you moving into or within the area takes 1d8 Poison damage per 5ft it travels. This supernatural muck lasts for 24 hours before fading away. You may use this ability once, regaining its use after a long rest.

Wasting Breeding Dripping Screaming Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, level 15

The lump or weight within sups upon your flesh and blood in amounts so minute you likely won’t even notice, but it’s always hungry for a more substantial meal. If you take slashing or piercing damage from an enemy adjacent to you, you can attempt to feed it by using your reaction; a Swarm of Rot Grubs erupts from the wound into the space of your attacker, and the swarm immediately uses its reaction to attack them with advantage.

This Swarm of Rot Grubs is friendly to you and any creature you designate as an ally, and will follow you telepathic commands. If left without orders, it will crawl towards the closest living enemy it can perceive to attack them, or to the closest pile of carrion within 30ft. After 1 minute passes, the swarm is too consumed by hunger and turns on itself, dying messily. Once you spawn a swarm in this way, you must complete a long rest before it can be done again.

Sire of Stagnation Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, Contaminate, lvl 20

Patches of Filth created by Contaminate last until cleaned up by an outside force, such as a massive storm, powerful magic, or the concentrated efforts of a group of people working for 12 hours. Each day the Filth patch remains, it spawns a swarm of Filthbreed Vermin (roll 1d6; 1: swarm of rats, 2: swarm of insects, 3: swarm of maggots, 4: swarm of spiders, 5: swarm of scarabs, 6: swarm of rot grubs). A Filthbreed Swarm creates a 5ft patch of Filth otherwise identical to the one spawned by Contaminate when it is slain, requiring a concentrated effort to clean that takes 4 hours.

At the DMs discretion, more powerful Filthbreed creatures may arise from especially massive patches of Filth.

Hive Mind Prereq: Mother of Filth patron, lvl 20, Vermin Lord

You may maintain control of up to 25 creatures at once with your Vermin Lord ability, and the effect lasts indefinitely until dispelled. They no longer receive saving throws.

----------

Fun author’s note: Going to make a more generic version of this Patron later to fit into other people’s sessions without relying on my cosmology; you can indeed just use this creature as a different spirit of pestilence and filth, but I’m also just creating a Horseman of Pestilence-esque patron later as soon as I’m more inspired which shuffles a bunch of stuff already present here around while adding some new, more obviously vile options.

#original concepts #d&d homebrew #dnd homebrew #5e homebrew #tw: disease #tw: body horror #tw: parasites

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thessaliah · 4 years ago

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Reading this lostbelt, from Pepe's viewpoint and issues, and how he described the Crypters. It makes me uncomfortable that FGO is trying to validate privilege and trying to cast the victims of the privileged ones (PHH) as "bad" because they tell them to go fuck themselves and flipped the roles. Or are "good" because accept being destroyed (fucking erased) to validate the "better" (privileged) history. It felt like that from the beginning but Pepe's thoughts nailed this sickening feeling.

I was going to do my character meme answers, but so much THIS. I don't think Nasu thought over this pretty well (or he doesn't care because status quo-sticker), or he took so long his work isn't going to age well in the current context people are more aware than ever about this "competition" between humanity which is absolutely abhorrent and unjust. Even when presenting a side as "hopeless" for their growth, that sounds like you're making excuses to trample it for your benefit, like a typical privileged person would ignore those who rot on the sidewalk.

This is the funny thing. The entire situation as you point is like some of those pariahs said no more and decided to take over with the corpses of their oppressors. Panhistory to validate themselves created the Prunning Phenomena and can't take heat from the consequences of their very system generated? The rich side of this is that all those billions who disappeared actually to validate their existence in the first place set this system that originally walked on the corpses of many untold erased timelines. Because resources were limited (sounds familiar?) only a scant number of timelines could be kept. And this very cruel system was wished unconsciously by humanity itself. Nasu even compared what Humanity is doing to itself to what Goetia did in his booklet of Lostroom as if to frame what is the cause. Crypters, Lostbelts, the "God"? Thematically, they are victims and pariahs who got left behind. They aren't the "aggressors" that shot first. There’s a reason why the theme is revenge and payback of those who were down and stood again. Nasu’s not talking about Panhistory or Novum Chaldea.

Of course, is perfectly good and dandy to have Novum Chaldea look for the survival of them and their Panhistory, but it's not sitting well with me to take them as heroes at all, unlike Part 1. In part 1, the enemy had a problem with suffering, but the suffering caused by death and terminus, which was more a natural consequence of being human that could be delayed but is something nobody denies exists and must be accepted. It was a palatable approach of a Solomon who experienced a mortal life and the system Solomon left behind which took an exclusive "god" viewpoint unable to sympathize until he tasted mortality.

Part 2 meanwhile the core of the problem is that injustice and gap between loser and winners, and it seems to push for us to accept it can't be helped, humans are like this when is a dangerous complacent "Let the better ones eat you, pariah" sour aftertaste. It's also very dangerous because while there's no "pruning phenomena" in real life, there is across history the whole silencing the loser and oppressed by the winners, trying to wipe them out for their own glory and benefit. There's no point to wish fight fact or reform. Novum Chaldea being a passive tool to defend the way Panhistory has conducted itself with rare exceptional "no this waifu/this loli/cute animal" moments don't cut it for me to see them as good. It makes me feel dirty. They never made an effort to do anything but react too unless a said article to protect is at stake. It's increasingly hard to associate or sympathize with them over someone like Kirschtaria Wodime, whatever you think of his plan, he is the only one who made an effort to try to change the odds while embracing hope humanity inherent goodness will carry them out for a better future, better order, better results. While Chaldea's weak arguments against him could be summed up in Holmes' cynical view of how humanity won't change and will always be like that and suffer (which is again a reminder of "don't try to do anything, go with the flow" to suppress revolution and reformers). The arguments were so feeble that the one that stopped him isn't Chaldea, but Beryl's betrayal.

I understand fully the extraordinary context and circumstances of what happened, and what was lost, but those people who disappeared, they also wove a system that did the same to others. It's just an unfortunate plot to me. Nobody denies Kirschtaria was willing to accept the loss of Panhistory (even though if he could, he would have saved those people too) out his inability to save them with his limits, but N. Chaldea is perfectly willing to accept the loss of other lives too (although they also feel bad), are they less worthy? And while Kirschtaria’s passively accepted the loss of Panhistory (because none of the Crypters directly had to do with its blanching), Chaldea is actively now doing the Pruning System work in pulling the plug on others. Not just the Lostbelts but to restore Panhistory is accepting the way it works and how many it destroys. Instead of taking a bet to try something new, in the long run, maybe create something better. Both sides demand terrible sacrifices, but only one is coming with a solution to try and fix what is broken. The other side is just putting a band-aid and pretend is fine. I don't know if Nasu is going to end it in a satisfying way. Because he's not one to overhaul this system and he maintained since FSN: "the seat of happiness are limited" as if was a natural and desirable message.

On the other hand, he did say that Kirschtaria's ideals are the most perfect even among "all legends of TM" and that his goal was objectively beneficial for humanity. Even one of the game options lets Guda comment that his idea is desirable, but... (doesn't want to forsake Panhistory... although Panhistory ironically has no problem to destroy and wreck other timelines to keep their flawed Consensus -> what isn't discussed, huh).

I think Nasu wanted to make this about survival instead of good vs evil, which was fine up until Kirschtaria came up with an idea of revision/reform the Human Order instead of proposing something based on survival of a lifestyle because he wanted to minimise the suffering. Which Chaldea poorly answered. At heart, by trying to smooth over humanity’s need to compete with each other by closing the gaps of how they started (and even them), wouldn’t that also affect the Pruning system which is based on this fierce competition of what is the best/ideal timeline consensus? Yes, of course, because that system reflects the present humanity mindset of competition to “survive” and divide themselves in winners and losers. In the long run, IMO, that would have been modified too. Kirschtaria doesn’t directly reference to it, but vaguely alludes to an answer humanity failed to reach which is linked to a lot of what’s happening too, including the “God.” Because Chaldea only had arguments for survival (to the point this is acknowledged by Kirschtaria’s description of what is defeat/victory for Chaldea and for Kirschtaria. To Chaldea, Kirschtaria says that their victory is survival, and to be defeated is to die; while Wodime’s defeat is that the Beast manifested and he couldn’t finish his plan). And business continues, as usual, I guess. It leaves a bitter taste when your supposed POV has no agency or drive to make any difference. It is frustrating!

I know I was harsh with this, and I also appreciate how Guda and Mash still try to help the people who they see in danger in front of them, but is frustrating because at the same time they are doing things to make themselves feel better knowing they are here to wipe them out. Like, you know, giving a starving orphan a candy to make then happy and go behind their back and pull out the resources of the orphanage they’re in to let them starve to use that money to buy yourself food, something like that. Even if you know they really need that money to not starve themselves for the possibility they can rebuild different orphanages, would you still consider characters who do that the same heroes as part 1? Hard to say, right?

“Far side is darker than Near side”, yes, but I think Nasu went a little too far. Because even if HF was dark, for example, I completely empathised with the difficult choices, while it’s harder now.

#fgo ask #meta #lostbelt spoilers #lostbelt criticism

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highonchocolate · 4 years ago

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Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 7

First Previous Next Ao3

As Marinette made her way out of the room, Dick turned back to Jason and Tim, the two of them wearing identical frowns he knew were mirrored on his face. “That conversation was not normal at all. That stuff she said about the man being over 150 years old..I get the feeling she isn’t just a regular civilian after all.” Tim and Jason nodded in agreement. “Do you think she was talking about the Lazarus Pits?” Tim asked, pulling up his computer and beginning a new search on their guest. “That man she was talking about seemed to be her mentor, but I didn’t understand the last sentence she said. It wasn’t in any language I know.” “She sounded fuckin’ terrified after hearing whatever that friend of hers told her.�� Jason inputted, leaning forward. “Maybe we can try to hear the other end of the conversation, maybe that will help.” Dick said, turning to Tim hopefully. “Yeah, okay, just give me like fifteen minutes. I have to find her phone on the Manor WiFi and go from there, since she took it with her and I can't just directly hack in.” Dick nodded. “Do we want to tell Bruce now, or wait until we’re sure nothing crazy is going on?” “Let’s wait, I don’t need the old man getting worked up, only for this to be a false alarm.” Jason sighed, hands fiddling absentmindedly at the empty space where his guns usually sat.

Noticing the movement, Dick laughed inwardly. ‘It’s like a little baby looking for his teddy bear!’ He wasn’t dumb enough to say it out loud though, he knew Jason would probably shoot him in the kneecaps if he dared to insinuate he used his guns as teddy bears.

“I got it.” Tim’s voice interrupted his train of thought, fingers flying over the keyboard as he pulled up the call. They leaned forward to hear as he pressed play.

---

Flopping down onto her bed, Marinette let out an exhausted sigh before grabbing her pillow and screaming into it. Tikki rushed to comfort her, flying up to her face and gently nudging her cheek. “It’s okay Marinette-” Her sentence was immediately cut off by another loud groan/wail. “Tikki! What am I supposed to do?! Talia probably knows the Miraculi are active in Paris! What if she targets Maman and Papa? Oh no I’m such an awful Guardian Tikki! I’m going to get everyone killed!”

She was interrupted by Wayzz, who flew over with a warm cup of tea balanced precariously on his paws. Since he couldn’t see over the top, he nearly crashed into Kaalki, who let out a little shriek and sped out of the way. Her lips twitched upwards at the sight, and she quickly grabbed the tea before it could fall.

“Marinette you’re not an awful Guardian! Nobody can figure out a Holder’s identity unless they catch them detransforming, or the Holder tells them. So your parents aren’t in any danger!” Tikki explained, nestling in her hair and reached down to pat her on the forehead reassuringly. “Well not in any more danger than usual, what with the Akuma attacks happening almost every other day.” The girl quipped. “But the League could still try and talk to us after an Akuma attack before we detransform. Or they could just follow us until we detransform, and then attack our families.” She rolled over in bed, letting out a yelp when she jostled her foot.

“Hey Roarr,” She called out. “Didn’t you say that the Order is more powerful than the League, even now?” The striped pink Kwami nodded in agreement. “Yes, Marinette. You are one of the strongest Guardians in history, and since your team is composed entirely of True Holders, the Order is definitely stronger than the League right now.” As she turned the information over in her mind, bits and pieces of a plan began to form. “Well, I could tell them I’m the Guardian...and maybe that will discourage them from trying to attack the rest of the team?” Before any of the Kwami could respond she sat up excitedly. “Oh I know! I’ll tell them I am the Guardian, and part of the Order. And warn them of the consequences that will occur if they try and attack any of us. And even if they do try, I can just transform and take them down using Mullo, Trixx, and Tikki!” She pumped a fist in the air proudly, before turning to the Kwami to see what they thought. Tikki and Wayzz looked like they were contemplating the idea, the rest of the Kwami were either vehemently shaking their heads, or nodding vigorously. Finally Tikki spoke up “I think...that would be alright, but only if they approach you first, okay?” Marinette nodded. “Of course! There is no way I’m actively going to look for ninja assassins!”

---

“Hey Chloé, what’s up?” Marinette’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Maribug! Fu’s completely lost it!” The other girl-Chloé shrieked over the phone. “Tone it down a bit, Chlo. What do you mean?” Marinette asked. “He won’t stop mumbling to himself, and at random times he’ll just stare at the wall blankly!” The girl answered, though at a much quieter volume. “Well, I think that behavior should be normal for a man that just had memories from over 150 years of his life erased.” Marinette responded in French.

At that, Jason reached over and paused the recording. “So their mentor is this ‘Fu’ guy, and he had his memories erased. That’s not normal Pit stuff. When I was dunked in, I still remembered everything, I just also wanted to kill everything I came across. Same with all the other fuckers that used it. Memory loss wasn’t a thing.” “Okay, so we can cross off the Pits, but that still doesn’t explain this dude being that old.” Tim agreed. “Let’s keep listening I guess.”

“No he says the Demon is coming!” At those words, the three of them tensed, but continued to listen. “Chloé,” Marinette spoke, “you need to tell me his exact words. Now.” Her voice hardened at the end, and the other girl immediately became serious. “It was mostly mumbling, and I couldn’t make out most of what he said, but I heard something about Al Guhl, and eternal life.” This time Dick was the one who hit the pause button. “How the fuck does she know about the League?!” Jason burst out, looking unsettled and angry. “I don’t know, but we might have to keep an eye on her.” Tim stated, looking worried at the idea of them hosting an assassin in their house. “Okay, let’s see if they say anything about being a part of the League.” Dick frowned, reaching over to press play.

“You’re absolutely sure he said that? You weren’t just hearing things?” Marinette asked, voice filled with barely-concealed panic. “Yeah, that's exactly what he said. Is something wrong?” Chloé responded, sounding worried. Marinette let out a strained laugh. She said something in another language, which caused the other to inhale sharply and let out a curse. “Yeah, we’re totally fucked.”

“Okay then, looks like she’s not a part of the League I guess.” Dick frowned. “Maybe the League is an enemy of hers? Sorry, theirs?” “Okay maybe, but what does anything in Paris have to do with the League?” Tim responded. “I don’t know, maybe we can ask the rest of the JL if they’ve heard anything from Paris, or France in general.” He said, standing up and stretching. “Why can’t our lives be fucking normal for once?!” Jason groaned as they headed to the Cave.

---

“HI everyone!” Lila sang as she entered the classroom on Monday. “You’ll never guess where I went this weekend!” Pausing, she waited expectantly for the excited exclamations of her classmates wondering where she went, who she met, and how many celebrities she had turned down because they wanted to date her. But when no one responded, she felt her smile turn cold.

Looking at Marinette’s empty chair, her mouth twisted into a smirk, ready to spin new tales of her exploits in foreign countries. Poisoned words, dripping in honey to hide their bitter taste, spilled from her lips. “Oh is Marinette still gone? I didn’t think she could get any worse, but now she’s skipping school as well?!” Faking sadness, she made her lower lip wobble; shoulders hunching in on herself in a false display of timidness. “I tried asking her for a second chance to prove myself since she hates me so much, but she slammed her door in my face and told me to get out!” Still, there was nothing but silence. She looked up, and saw her classmates huddled together around Adrien’s desk.

Gritting her teeth, she sauntered over to them, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. “Hey guys, what’s up?” She asked, voice sweetened to cover up the irritation. “Oh hey Lila!” Mylene looked up, noticing her presence. “What’s up?” She repeated, pushing back the frustration beginning to bleed into her tone. “Oh, well Marinette’s in America now!” Alya told her, nearly vibrating with excitement. “We don’t know where exactly, but maybe she’ll meet some celebrities while she’s there!” “Really?!” Lila exclaimed, forcing enthusiasm into her tone. “That’s so cool. You know, I went to America last month, and I met Lois Lane! She wanted me to intern for her, but I recommended you instead!” “Oh, that’s cool Lila. But aren’t you wondering where Marinette is?” Rose asked eagerly. She felt a white-hot bolt of anger flash through her veins. “Of course I am!” She lied, hatred welling up inside her. “Here, tell me more!”

As she sat down next to Alya and listened to her ramble, she couldn’t help the furious thoughts running through her mind. ‘I had finally gotten rid of her, and what does she do? Continue to hog all the attention even when she’s across the sea!’

This would not do. She needed to make sure they all forgot about Marinette. With a plan in mind, she plastered on a knife-edged smile and began to enact her scheme.

---

@laurcad123, @liquid-luck-00

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #lila rossi #alya cesaire #lila salt #class salt

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

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God’s Menu (one-shot)

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin (SKZ)

Warnings: Language, and some mentions of smut

Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU

Word Count: 9K

Summary: Y/N is a critically-acclaimed chef at New York’s premier five-star restaurant, The JYP Organic Cafeteria. However, when a new restaurant across the street begins attracting attention (and paying customers) because of it’s young and handsome head chef, Seo Changbin, Y/N grows furious at her dwindling reviews. When she confronts this new chef, she’s appalled to realize that he’s nothing short of arrogant, and they both engage in a fierce competition to determine who the best chef really is in NY.

A/N: I wrote this in one day, such a crazy experience, and it’s all thanks to Changbin. Also, why not, I’ll dedicate this to @lordseochangbin, the biggest Changbin Stan I know on this site.

The art of cooking involved a delicate sensibility that I had taken great pride in perfecting, especially after I graduated from culinary school. Thereafter, I worked tirelessly as an assistant for some of the greatest chefs in New York City, and I had the pleasure of working next to them under their great tutelage. Subsequently, their talents and well-intended advice shaped my own style of cooking, and my finely-tuned skills helped catapult me to the very top of our industry.

Likewise, I gained instant fame when I became the head chef at JYP’s Organic Cafeteria in the heart of New York City. People from all over the state came to my restaurant to try my cooking, and word spread fast about my immediate rise to stardom. As such, I started modeling for cooking magazines while receiving warm reviews from even the staunchest food critics, and I had a legion of fans in the form of paying customers who often lined the sidewalk outside of the restaurant to wait for an available table.

I also had some of the most promising chefs working directly under me. For example, my sous-chef, Bang Chan, was a very skilled man when it came to experimenting with some of our more expensive offerings. He had a natural talent for measuring ingredients, even without the assistance of a recipe, and his taste was nothing short of exquisite. His assistant, Felix, was a captivating presence among the staff, and he moved around the kitchen like he had been born to cook for the hungry masses. Felix also had a knack for cutting with his impressive collection of knives and cutlery, and he enjoyed trying the recipes that Chan and I worked tirelessly to perfect.

There was also Han Jisung, our kitchen’s pastry chef, whose delicious cakes and sweets were touted as some of the finest cuisine in North America. He prided himself on making the best cheesecakes, and our customers enjoyed a variety of unique flavors that could satisfy even the pickiest of palates. Jisung also never hesitated to include fun and interesting additions to our menu, even if that meant he had to stay up all night to prepare the ingredients.

Finally, our saucier, Jeongin, brought a degree of youthful exuberance into the kitchen, and he was adept at evolving his soup recipes and incorporating the freshest ingredients from the local marketplaces. He was always smiling, despite the recurring dinner rush, and he was quick and efficient with his hands, especially when handling our ingredients.

Together, we formed an intimidating team, and I was excited to continue growing our successful restaurant while bringing our talents out of state and to the rest of the world. Of course, it was important to perfect ourselves at this stage in our evolution, and tonight would be another step in the right direction. As such, when I glanced out the window overlooking the main dining room, I immediately spotted the important food critic talking pleasantly with one of our waiters. “Jeongin!” I shouted to attract the younger’s attention.

“Yes, Chef,” he returned, pausing next to me at the revolving doors.

“Tell everyone that the critic is here,” I said. “And make sure that I cook her order.”

“Of course, chef,” Jeongin agreed, and he addressed the rest of the kitchen with a commanding presence that made me feel proud because he had once been too shy to elevate his voice.

In the meantime, I started to prepare my station, ensuring that everything was clean. “Felix,” I said, turning to the silver-haired chef as he tossed up a pan of vegetables. “Get me the best ingredients and tools.”

Felix smirked, returning the plan to the stove before bowing slightly. “Right away, chef.”

Meanwhile, I carefully adjusted the sleeves of my apron, pulling them high above my elbows. For the most part, I was fairly consistent with my cooking, but I always put in extra effort when it came to potential reviews that would show-up in distinguished magazines. It was a well-known fact throughout the city that, in our competitive line of work, those reviews meant everything to the clientele we targeted. Thus, whenever a critic came into the restaurant, I liked to handle their meal preparation myself with the utmost attention.

“The order from the critic, chef,” Jeogin announced, following Felix with a bright smile.

I took it from him with a long exhale. “Garlic butter chicken,” I read. “I could do this blindfolded.”

However, I was somewhat relieved about the order because chicken happened to be a specialty of mine that I often took extra care in preparing. It was the first dish that I ever perfected in culinary school, and it often earned me the most acclaim when I was nothing more than an apprentice. And I’m sure the critic in question expected something truly mouth-watering, which is why I started immediately with every ounce of my concentration focused on the task at hand.

The first step was to clean the chicken thoroughly, and I usually requested that Jeongin wash the ingredients, but I was serious about preparing this dish myself. Next, I seasoned the chicken with an appropriate mixture of salt and pepper before allowing it to simmer on the stove while the butter melted in a separate skillet over medium heat. The familiarity of my movements was both exhilarating and reassuring.

Yet, despite just starting the early stages of the dish’s preparation, sweat was perspiring against my forehead, falling in long rivulets down the sides of my temples. It was a mixture of the kitchen’s oppressive warmth and my own nervous anxiety that combined together to create a fascinating effect on my person. But I was undeterred by any obstacle.

Instead, I turned to the sauce, recounting the ingredients inside my head: garlic, red pepper flakes, and hot sauce (a special invention of mine). Afterward, I had to sauté the heady mixture for 30 seconds until the garlic became aromatic. I grinned triumphantly because the smell was nothing short of delectable, and I could practically taste it on my tongue as the flavors excited all five of my senses. Finally, I deglazed the skillet with the chicken broth and brought it to a much lower simmer. “Stand back,” I said, throwing the ingredients together inside a separate pan and tossing it above the heat to ensure that every piece of chicken was evenly coated with the delectable sauce. “Jeongin, it’s time for plating.”

“Yes, chef,” Jeongin said, hustling to the surrounding shelves of our finest decorative serving dishes, assisting me next to my station as we carefully plated the chicken specialty. I watched as the delicate lines of steam rose from the top before requesting that our waiter bring the food to the awaiting critic.

With a steady exhale, I joined the rest of the chefs as watched the waiter disappear out the revolving door before we all crowded together to observe the critic’s reaction from the window. “She looks impressed,” Jisung remarked, and I smiled at his comment.

In the proceeding moments, the critic unfolded her napkin over her lap and reached for her fork and knife, studying the dish with close scrutiny. I swallowed hard when she lifted a bite to her awaiting mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she appraised my offering. Thankfully, I knew that it was successful when her eyes lit with a familiar warm glow, looking down at her plate with evident pleasure. As if on cue, everyone around me started clapping at once, and their shouts of praise and encouragement certainly fed my ego while we watched the critic enjoy the remainder of her meal.

It was another successful evening.

In the mornings, I often walked to the restaurant because the weather was nice this time of year, and I was left alone with the company of my thoughts. However, after such a grueling night of dinner prep, I was also excited to see the fruits of my labors in the form of a new review that might appear at any moment courtesy of the satisfied critic who left the restaurant with a grateful salutation. My stomach was practically doing somersaults just thinking about it, and I was in a fairly good mood when I saw the JYP sign shimmering up ahead in the distance.

However, as I grew closer, I realized that there was also another sign for the previously empty building across the street, and it stood a little taller in comparison. Consequently, I paused outside the recently renovated space, peeking in through the glass window to discover a restaurant set-up waiting inside. “When did this get here?” I wondered, taking a step back to appraise the building. The enormous banner across the front spelled out the name of the establishment. “Dwekki.”

I released an exhausted sigh because I wasn’t ready to process the implications of what this might mean for JYP’s business. However, I was caught off-guard by the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps. “Doesn’t open for another hour, sweetheart,” came an unfamiliar voice.

I turned around to confront the man whose attitude clearly exposed his underlying arrogance. “Excuse, me?”

He smirked, and it made him look even more handsome. In contradiction to his dark-colored eyes, his blue-tinted hair glowed beneath the sunlight, and his arms crossed over his broad chest to experiment with the limits of his thin t-shirt. “We don’t start serving lunch until 11:00.”

“I’m not interested in eating here!” I glowered.

“That’s a shame,” he replied, and I was taken aback by his flirtatious tone, watching as his eyes appraised me.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted an autograph, then you should’ve just asked,” he replied, and I instantly recoiled.

“I work over there,” I said, jutting my thumb behind me. “I’m the head chef for JYP.”

“Really?” Changbin asked, and his eyes reflected a newfound interest. “I’ll be more formal, then. My name is Seo Changbin, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” I said. “I’m Y/N.”

Changbin chuckled. “It sounds like you don’t like me, Y/N, which doesn't seem right since we just met.”

“Well,” I huffed. “I always like to keep an eye on potential competition.”

“Competition?” Changbin snorted. “Sweetheart, there won’t be any competition when they taste my food.”

I bristled at the challenge. “Is that so?”

“I have the best cuisine,” Changbin said. “I’ve been told that my food is the best in New York City.”

I gasped at the insinuation. “Listen here, Changbin, I have the credentials to back up my food! I’ve been voted Food Critic Magazine’s most promising chef for three years in a row.”

“Well, it was a good streak while it lasted,” Changbin said, and he seemed amused by my inability to offer some kind of witty comeback in return.

“Fine!” I managed. “I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart,” Changbin replied, and I held my breath when I pivoted around, storming away from the horrible man with a new purpose guiding my steps.

Graciously, I found Chan waiting outside of JYP, looking up at me with a bright smile that disappeared when he realized that I wasn’t happy. “What happened?”

“There’s a new restaurant opening across the street and its chef is a complete asshole!” I shouted, fumbling with the restaurant keys in my hand. “He thinks he can say those things to me? Nobody’s food is better than ours!”

Chan blinked twice. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s a war, Mr. Bang!” I declared passionately, holding the door wide open. “We’re going to prove that man wrong!”

Chan sighed because he was already used to my dramatics. However, what he didn’t realize was that I was serious about the declaration, and I had no intention of holding up the white flag of surrender anytime soon!

Of course, despite my initial confidence, it was hard to maintain my earlier enthusiasm when, after a week of operation, I had started to notice that more people were wandering into Changbin’s restaurant and ignoring JYP. “His food must be killer,” Jisung remarked off-handedly one day, wincing when I slapped him on the back of his head. “What was that for?”

“He’s the competition,” I seethed, pacing back and forth in front of the open window at the front of the restaurant. “It’s just because he opened recently and people are curious.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jisung huffed, rubbing his head with a pout.

“We’ll just have to keep a lookout,” I insisted, and I knew that I sounded mad when Jisung hesitantly took a step back away from me.

“Aren’t you taking this too far, Y/N?”

“Too far?”

“Woah! You know that I’m just kidding!” Jisung chirped, anxiously power-walking his way back into the kitchen while I continued to maintain my post as JYP’s head chef and silent guardian.

Eventually, I returned to the kitchen since I was expecting the usual dinner rush to commence. However, the longer that I spent chopping way too many carrots without a ticket request for our finest appetizer soups, the more I began to realize that something was amiss. I reached for Felix’s arm and drug him away from the others. “Why aren’t we getting any ticket requests? Is the waitstaff missing people?”

“Not exactly,” Felix said, and his eyes darted back and forth as if he was withholding valuable information.

“Well?” I insisted. “What’s happening?”

“There’s not many people tonight,” Felix said, and he quickly tried to reassure me when he noticed my sharp intake of breath. “It’s Monday, Y/N, and most people don’t like to eat out when they have work the next day...”

But I ignored Felix’s attempts at rationality, leaving the kitchen with heavy steps to instigate some preemptive sleuthing of my own. “What the hell?” I grumbled, crossing my arms when I noticed that there was some sort of commotion going on outside. Yet, when I stood in front of the window, I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What’s wrong with these people!” I exclaimed, watching as the line outside of Changbin’s restaurant continued to grow even longer.

“I heard it’s good,” Han offered unhelpfully, and I didn’t even notice his approach because I was too distracted by the horror-show playing right in front of me. My literal worst nightmare coming to life with one preemptive swoop!

“This is terrible!” I said. “We’re losing business t-to them!”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Jisung said, laying one hand on my shoulder. “Most of our regulars are here.”

“It’s not okay!” I said, shaking off his hand aggressively. “We need to get to the bottom of this!”

Jisung flinched when I turned around sharply on my heel, finding my way back to the kitchen where I clapped my hands together loudly to attract everyone’s attention. “Listen up, people!” I started. “The place across the street has just become enemy number one. That means we need to investigate! We have to infiltrate the restaurant and figure out what the hell is going on!”

“Y/N,” Chan sighed. “Is this necessary?”

“Oh, it's completely necessary! We’re going undercover,” I said, pointing between Felix and Chan. “You two are coming with me.”

Chan shook his head. “Y/N, do we really have to do this?”

“Yeah,” Felix whined. “You’re just gonna do something embarrassing again.”

I offered them both a glare. “Do you like working here?”

“Yes, chef!” Felix immediately shouted, holding up his hand to his forehead in a military salute.

Chan rolled his eyes. “I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“We’re losing customers, Chan,” I said. “We need to figure out why.”

“But do we really have to go over there?”

“Can’t Jisung go instead of me?” Felix asked, jutting out his bottom lip like it might garner him some kind of sympathy.

However, I was completely set on my resolution. “You’re coming, Felix, and we’re going to get justice for JYP!”

“Justice for JYP!” Jeongin shouted while raising his fist in the air to demonstrate his solidarity with my outrageous claim.

In the meantime, I had removed my apron, dusting the flour from my jeans while grabbing my purse from the backroom. “Now!” I said, dragging a reluctant Chan and Felix behind me as we exited the restaurant through the back door.

I had never been more determined in my entire life!

“How many are in your party?” the hostess asked when we stepped inside Dwekki for the very first time.

“Three,” I replied while scrutinizing every feature of the interior.

“One moment please,” the hostess said, leaving her podium stand to enter the dining room. I stood on my toes to look inside, but I only caught a faint glimpse of an overhanging chandelier before the doors closed again.

“Fancy,” Felix remarked, but I ignored him while observing the main lobby.

“How pretentious,” I muttered, taking in the elegantly tiled marble floors and freshly painted white walls.

“Says the person who charges 30 dollars for chicken,” Chan retorted.

“Whose side are you on?” I asked him, but a potential argument was quickly interrupted by the hostess who re-emerged from the dining room.

“Right this way,” she said, grabbing three menus before encouraging us to enter the literal lion’s den.

Immediately, I decided that I didn’t like Dwekki. It screamed money and finesse, and I wasn’t impressed with the elegant set-up, disregarding the shimmering fountain and the open kitchen that revealed dozens of chefs working tirelessly to prepare their dishes.

“Thank you,” Felix said politely when our hostess brought us to a small table near the kitchen’s entrance, offering us our menus before returning to her post outside the dining room. “You guys, it smells like chocolate in here,” Felix said, whining when I reached over to whack his arm with my menu.

“It smells like desperation to me,” I said. “Look at all this unnecessary decor. Who the hell needs a water fountain in the middle of their restaurant?”

“I think it’s nice,” Chan said with a sarcastic attitude on clear display.

“You’re the worst sous-chef,” I told him.

“But what would you do without me?”

“I’d put another ad in the paper,” I said, and he gasped in dramatic fashion that was clearly meant to mock me.

Meanwhile, I had barely noticed the arrival of our waiter until his voice interrupted my playful banter with Chan. “Good evening, folks, welcome to Dwekki, my name is Hyunjin and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to start off with an appetizer.”

“What do you recommend?” I asked, taking note of Hyunjin’s taller stature and the way he tied back his long hair into a neat style.

“Our chef’s choice is the scallops,” Hyunjin replied, and I inwardly groaned at the mention of the restaurant’s chef.

“Yes, that’s fine,” I said, and Hyunjin had barely left the table before Felix was opening his mouth again.

“He has literal angels working for him, Y/N,” Felix said.

“Do you really have to say that?” I asked.

“He certainly has class,” Chan added, and I felt their betrayal deep inside the center of my chest. “Do you think he might recommend his decorator?”

“Our restaurant is more family-oriented,” I said, bringing my water glass to my lips because I was suddenly parched.

“He’s coming back,” Felix whispered, and I was taken aback by Hynjin’s reappearance, holding a bottle of wine in his hands.

“This is for you,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Pinot noir!” Felix gasped, snatching the bottle from Hyunjin who barely flinched.

“Compliments of the chef,” Hyunjin explained, and I hesitantly glanced over my shoulder to see Changbin watching us from the kitchen’s entrance. I returned my gaze to the table, fanning my flushed skin. “He also insisted that you should try tonight’s house specialty.”

“That’s fine,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally left us alone.

“Does he know who you are?” Felix asked curiously.

“I ran into him the other day,” I said.

“She nearly had a heart attack,” Chan said. “It was the day we declared war or something on this place.”

“Like battleship?” Felix asked, and I actually regretted not listening to his plea from earlier to have brought Jisung along instead. At least my pastry chef was entertaining.

“The food is probably mediocre,” I said. “Nobody can have an ego that big unless they’re compensating for something.”

“Y/N,” Felix teased, raising his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not whatever you’re thinking,” I said, wincing at the idea. “Look, I know that you both think this whole thing is stupid, but the restaurant is really important to me, and I care when our customers start eating somewhere else.”

“Is it really about the customers or your pride?” Chan asked, and I hated it when his questions turned philosophical.

I tossed my menu in his direction. “Study the dishes, Chan. We’re here to gather important intel.”

Chan smirked, but obeyed my command, browsing quietly while Felix took his job too seriously and started capturing screenshots using his cellphone. Meanwhile, I leaned back in my chair with a heavy heart because it was starting to look like we were hopelessly outmatched. I mean, just the interior of the dining room itself was far more impressive than our cafeteria-style, and I was actually envious of that stupid fountain because it looked magical underneath the stupid chandelier.

Thankfully, the arrival of our food temporarily paused my morbid thoughts, and the smell of our appetizer scallops actually had my stomach grumbling. Felix and Chan immediately grabbed a scallop for themselves, and I forced myself to take one of the delicious smelling rations. My mouth started watering when I brought a small bite closer, and when I chewed against the tender meat, my entire facade cracked because it was absolutely wonderful.

Of course, to make matters even worse, the head chef had decided to leave the kitchen and gloat before I could even swallow my food. “What do we have here?” Changbin asked, and I trembled at his approach. “It can’t be the head chef of JYP! I’m honored.”

“Why are you out here?” I hissed.

“I saw you come inside,” Changbin replied. “I figured I should be nice to our new neighbors.”

I watched as Changbin took a step to the side, crooking a finger, and Hyunjin joined our table once more with the entrees. “The veal,” he said, placing a portion in front of the three of us.

“It’s one of my most popular dishes,” Changbin said with a tone laced with his smugness.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, stuffing a bite into my mouth and immediately regretting the way that my body reacted positively to the food. Like I was suddenly back home and enjoying my mother’s home-cooked meals.

“Do you like it?” Changbin asked.

I gritted my teeth as I pushed the dish away from me. “It’s okay,” I said, sighing when I noticed that Chan and Felix were practically devouring their dishes.

“You see that critic over there?” Changbin asked, and I followed his gaze to a strikingly familiar face. Because it was the same woman who had just eaten at our restaurant several nights ago, and she looked way too pleased with her current meal. “She told me that my chicken was the best she had ever tasted.”

I held my tongue to keep myself from retorting. “That’s impossible,” Felix said over a mouthful of his veal. “Y/N has the best chicken dish in New York.”

“Really?” Changbin asked, leaning down so that he was speaking right into my ear. “Maybe we should put that to the test.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a food competition this weekend on Good Morning, New York,” Changbin said.

“I love that show!” Felix said, and I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary observation.

“They’re inviting local chefs to participate,” Changbin said. “I already reserved my spot, but maybe Y/N could try her luck as well.”

I slammed my fork down against the table. “You’re on, Seo. I haven’t lost a food competition since culinary school.”

“May the best chef win,” Changbin said with a pleased smile. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled, forcing another bite of veal into my mouth because I was growing more and more frustrated with my impending crisis.

The next morning, I walked inside the restaurant to see a group of my chefs crowded around one of the tables. “What’s going on?” I asked, and they immediately began to disperse. “Hold on!” I said, jogging over to grab Felix’s apron sleeve. “What are you holding?”

“It’s nothing!” Jisung squealed from further away, but I still jerked the magazine away from Felix’s hands. It was a copy of the Food Critic Monthly magazine, and they published reviews of the most popular restaurants in New York City.

“Y/N,” Felix said, and his voice was unusually deep. “It’s one person’s opinion.”

I shook my head as I opened the magazine, flipping through the pages until I found our restaurant’s name in the heading. “JYP remains consistent, although they could certainly benefit from a change in their normal menu. I’ll give them a score of 9 out of 10,” I read aloud, fuming when I realized that Dwekki’s review was on the next page. “This hot new restaurant has some of the finest cuisine that I’ve ever tasted, and its head chef holds the potential to be the greatest in New York. My rating is a solid 10 out of 10.”

The room was quiet when I finished. “Y/N?” Jeongin tentatively inquired. “It doesn’t matter, we can impress them next time.”

“Next time?” I repeated with barely constrained rage. “It’s the opinion of one of the biggest food critics in the city!” I retorted. “Of course, it matters.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment to center myself. “Y/N?” Jisung said. “What are you gonna do?”

I looked at him with newfound determination. “Someone needs to schedule me for that Good Morning, New York show. I’m gonna beat him in front of the entire city!”

Jeongin nodded his head quickly. “I’ll make the call, Y/N.”

I rolled back my shoulders, pausing when I noticed that Chan had stopped in front of me. “You’re going too far this time, Y/N.”

“I need this, Chan,” I said, shoving my way past him. “I also need freaking break from this place!”

That afternoon, I sat behind the restaurant with a cigarette in hand, puffing smoke into the surrounding space. Unfortunately, whenever I felt particularly stressed, I turned to the nasty habit that I had trouble completely dismissing from my life. It was truly disgusting, but sometimes these situations forced me to do things that I normally wouldn’t even consider.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

I held the cancer stick up to my lips. “Why the hell do you care?”

“Maybe I think you’re too beautiful for bad lungs,” Changbin said, and I finally met his gaze from across the alley.

“What do you want?”

“To show off?” He shrugged, resuming a business-like demeanor when he walked in my direction.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, watching him as he took a seat next to me.

“Look at this,” Changbin said, holding up a black folder. “We have reservations scheduled for the next month.”

“A month?” I spluttered, taking the folder from him. Sure enough, I ran my finger down the list of names occupying time slots that filled the remainder of June. As a result, I let my head fall back against the brick wall of my restaurant. “This is private property, you know.”

“Oh?” Changbin chuckled. “Look, Y/N, whatever I’ve done to offend you, I want to apologize.”

“Really?” I said. “It doesn’t feel like you care.”

“Actually, I really admire your work,” Changbin said. “I read some of your reviews when I had just graduated school, and I even based one of my dishes from your Parmesan.”

“Fuck that makes me feel old,” I complained, but there was no way that I was more than a few years older than Changbin.

“You might feel younger if you stop with these things,” Changbin said, and I only frowned when he took the cigarette from me.

“I booked myself on that show,” I said. “I hope I don’t offend you when I kick your ass.”

Changbin smirked, leaning in closer with a dangerous smile that somehow managed to send my heart fluttering inside my chest. “I look forward to it.”

Unsurprisingly, Jeongin was a cheerful presence even when the sun hadn’t quite risen above the New York City skyscrapers. He had previously agreed to come with me to the show as a support system, and I could use his infectious energy when it came to my biggest challenge to date. “I even made you a sign,” he said as I drove us along the crowded streets.

I laughed. “I don’t think you can bring those inside the studio.”

“I’ll still cheer the loudest!” he said, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap him into a secure hug.

However, I also had to resist the softer side that Jeongin always tended to bring out in me because I needed to focus solely on this competition. My entire reputation was hanging by a thread, and this show offered me the chance to redeem my dwindling reviews.

Graciously, upon my arrival, I noticed that most of the other competitors weren’t nearly as intimidating, and I offered them polite greetings while doing my best to ignore Changbin and the ridiculous smile that he sent in my direction when I entered the studio. “Keep talking to me,” I instructed Jeongin. “Maybe that will keep Satan away.”

Jeongin nodded his head. “I believe in you, Y/N.”

“There’s a great evil threatening our existence,” I said solemnly. “I just need to focus.”

“Woah!” Jeongin suddenly cheered. “They have soft batch cookies.”

“Hey!” I said. “Are you really letting that distract you?”

“Sorry,” he whispered, bowing respectfully when the Good Morning hosts approached us.

“We’re excited to have you here, Y/N. It’s been a while since you’ve participated in something like this.”

“Well, I need a change every once in a while,” I told them.

“We’ve assigned your station next to Seo Changbin’s,” they said. “You two are the best in the kitchen, and our viewers will love it!”

“I bet they will,” I said, smiling sweetly while pulling Jeongin along next to me. “Let’s make sure it’s spotless,” I instructed him, and we both started cleaning the station with prompt attention.

“Oh, Y/N,” Changbin said from his station next to me. “I saw a comment on social media this morning. Someone said that I shouldn’t even bother wearing anything under my apron. What do you think?”

“Pervert,” I muttered under my breath, wiping down the counter with far more aggression than necessary considering how the surface was practically glimmering.

“Alright, everyone!” a producer suddenly announced. “The show starts in five minutes.”

However, I was unprepared for the way that my stomach twisted uncomfortably because I had never felt this nervous before in my entire life. “I can’t breathe,” I told Jeongin, and he immediately started fanning my overheated skin with one of the frying pans.

“You can do it, Y/N,” he said, and I only nodded in response while I watched him join the crowd gathered behind the cameras.

“3...2...1...action!”

Fuck, why was it so hot in here?

“Good morning, New York City!” one of the hosts began, holding out her arms in grandiose fashion. “We have six of New York’s hottest young chefs ready to cook for us this morning.”

“That’s right, Kathy, and when we get back from our commercial break, we’ll determine the best of the best in a fierce competition. Let’s introduce today’s chefs.”

Kathy smiled in our direction, holding up the microphone as she spoke briefly with each chef in turn, coming closer and closer in my direction. “Mr. Seo,” she said. “You’ve scored tremendous reviews with some of the city’s toughest critics! What inspires you to create such gourmet dishes?”

“Well, recently, I’ve been inspired by someone who managed to capture my heart,” he said, sending a discreet wink in my direction.

I scowled at his blatant sarcasm. “Oh, she must be a lucky lady, then,” Kathy said, taking a long stride to stand next to me at my station. “What about you, Y/N? You’ve been at the top of New York’s finest chef’s list for years!”

I found Jeongin at the back of the room whose sweet smile managed to lend me some semblance of confidence. “I’ve always been competitive,” I said, and the answer summoned a chuckle from Changbin.

“Well, I guess we get to see for ourselves right after these brief words from our sponsors!”

“Cut!” the producer yelled, and I sighed in relief.

But it was a short-lived reprieve, and Changbin leaned in closer to shorten the space separating our stations. “I don’t want to embarrass you, sweetheart,” Changbin grinned, and it took everything I had to resist the temptation to hit that perfect face.

“Shut the hell up,” I muttered, briefly glancing up to see Jeongin offering me a cheesy thumbs up from behind the camera.

Tragically, this time I didn’t feel any reassurance from his warm presence. Instead, I anxiously waited in profound expectation until the recording lights started to flash green, and I put on my best poker face for the camera. “Chefs, today you’ll be making your best dish to impress our judges! We’ll be looking at three categories: taste, presentation, and creativity. You have twenty minutes to finish your dish.”

Twenty minutes?! I was freaking out, running over my best chicken recipe inside my head while the hosts started a vicious countdown that slowly destroyed my resolve. “Go!”

I immediately launched myself into action, running to the fridge to pull out a package of freshly cut chicken. I was relying on years of experience to guide my actions, resorting to my most basic cooking instincts when I cleaned and seasoned the chicken while blocking out the commentary in the background.

Sauté, sauté, sauté, I chanted inside my head while I heated the olive oil and tossed in the chicken strips to cook over the warm stove. Since I had such limited time, I gave each side exactly four minutes to cook before I was moving on to the next step, glancing over at Changbin’s station to watch him slice several ingredients with precision.

Jesus, he looked really hot doing that!

“Stop it, Y/N,” I whispered to myself, rolling up my sleeves while I grabbed my mixing bowl to prepare the honey and balsamic vinegar base for the sauce that I planned to glaze on top of the chicken. I added some garlic to my chicken skillet before stirring in the stock that would elevate the chicken’s natural flavoring.

“Ten minutes, chefs!”

My heart was pounding against my breastbone, and I decided to add rice at the last minute, even though it was a risk since it might not cook thoroughly in time. However, I also knew that it would add some color to the dish, and I was ready to pull out all the risks to reap the benefits.

The kitchen was loud with the sound of sizzling skillets and boiling pots, and I was overheated and flushed because of the rising steam. The smells of intermingling dishes were overwhelming, and I resisted the urge to check on Changbin’s dish because I couldn't handle that pressure.

“Five...four...three...two...one...stop!”

With a long exhale, I threw up my hands and retreated away from my plate. My nerves were still sending trembles along my spine, and I was pretty sure that I could pass out from exhaustion at any moment. Yet, beneath it all, I was also exhilarated from the challenge, and I couldn’t help but smile proudly at my dish sitting at the edge of the counter.

“We’ll let our judges decide,” Kathy said, and several assistants came to collect our plates, bringing them to the panel sitting somewhere off-screen.

I watched their reactions greedily, noting how they maintained neutral expressions for every dish with a certain degree of professionalism. “It was very close,” one of the judges said. “However, we made a decision.”

“The top three,” another continued. “Third place goes to Mr. Lee for his delicious pasta!”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or not, watching one of the hosts place a shiny bronze medal around the young chef’s neck. Surely, that meant Changbin and I were taking the top two positions, but I was desperate to hear them call out my name above his.

“We’ll announce first place,” the judge began, and I was practically hanging from the edge of the counter. “Seo Changbin!”

Unfortunately, there were no words to describe the way my shoulders instantly deflated, and a feeling of existential dread gripped tightly to my heart because of my failure. “Second place goes to Y/N.”

I was shaking, but it wasn’t out of anger for once. I pretended to smile, accepting the medal with a bile taste at the back of my throat. I managed to hold myself together until the show went off air, and I slowly removed my apron while trying my best not to reveal just how affected I was by everything that had happened. “Hey, Y/N,” Changbin said, and I turned around with a sigh.

“Save it, Changbin,” I said. “I don’t need you to rub it in.”

“I’m not,” he said, sweeping his bangs away from his eyes. “Will you just look at me?”

I offered him my full attention. “Well?”

“It was really close,” he said. “You did a good job, and your dish was amazing.”

His words were earnest, and I saw the honesty in his expression. Yet, my pride was still wounded, and I wanted to creep away into the remote corners of my lonely apartment and lick my wounds. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Not everything has to be a competition, Y/N,” he said, giving me a meaningful look that I couldn’t quite understand.

However, if the competition could be considered another step towards my total demise, then I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see the next day’s issue of a popular magazine. “Food Critic Daily,” I screamed, snatching the magazine from a sheepish Jeongin. My eyes grew wider when I saw that Changbin had the privilege of gracing the front cover. “This reviewer insists that you listen to everyone who tells you that Seo Changbin’s dishes are some of the finest cuisine in New York City. Perhaps nobody can compare.”

I dramatically fell back against the counter because it was too much for me to handle. I took a deep breath, channeling that emotion into anger as I grabbed the magazine from the top, ripping it slowly in half while my chefs looked on with barely disguised horror. “The insanity stops now!”

“Are you sure about that?” Jisung asked.

“We just have to try something different,” I said, looking around at my gathered chefs.

“Maybe not right now, Y/N,” came Felix’s gentle response.

“Why?”

“Changbin’s here,” Felix whispered, pointing at the kitchen door.

“What?” I growled, immediately turning around to face my kitchen staff. “Listen up! We have to be on our best game tonight!” I pointed at Felix who immediately froze to the spot. “I’m cooking his meal. Send his order to me.”

Felix nodded, relaying the instructions to our waiter while I approached my station with malice. “Y/N,” Chan said softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I grunted. “I can do this.”

“I didn’t say that I doubted you,” Chan said. “But I’m worried that you’re pushing yourself too much.”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, reaching for my discarded apron.

“Here’s the order,” Felix said, returning promptly. “He asked for the garlic butter chicken.”

I snorted. “Of course he did.”

Nevertheless, I cracked my fingers and got to work, arranging the pots and ingredients across my station. I quietly sharpened my knife, glaring at the revolving kitchen door where I knew that Changbin waited outside in the dining room. Despite the repeated blows to my self-confidence, I was determined to impress him tonight.

After I had sent off Changbin’s order, I returned to the back office to try and rest after pushing myself to the limit. I resisted the familiar urge to grab a cigarette from my bag, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to distract my mind. However, my efforts were in vain because Jeongin eventually started knocking on the door, looking at me with wide eyes. “Changbin said that he wanted to speak to the chef.”

I huffed an annoyed sigh. “That isn’t surprising.”

I slowly lifted myself from the chair, following Jeongin back into the kitchen. I was aware that the other chefs were watching me like I was some kind of wild animal ready to pounce. “Stay here,” I said to Jeongin, pushing my way through the revolving door to enter the dining room.

It wasn’t hard to find him, sitting with his waiter, Hyunjin, at one of the tables near the front entrance. I lowered my head when I started for his section, aware of the weight of his gaze on me the entire time. “You asked for me,” I said, looking down at Changbin with my eyes narrowed.

“My compliments to the chef,” Changbin said. “The food was surprisingly good.”

I chose not to react to his passive-aggressive comment. “Will there be anything else?”

“Just a moment,” Changbin said, reaching into his jacket pocket to produce a folded card. “What do you think?”

I snatched it from him ungracefully, smoothing out the surface before I caught the unforgettable name of Kim Seungmin listed across the card. “The Kim Seungmin?” I asked, and I didn’t bother to hide my excitement.

“I can get you an interview with him,” Changbin said. “What do you think?”

I frowned. “What’s the catch?”

Changbin laughed. “Maybe I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just tell me what you want.”

His smile was gone, replaced by a look that I could only describe as sobering. “You should go on a date with me, Y/N.”

It only took me a moment to start laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Changbin sighed. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” I replied, watching him as he stood from the table.

“I don’t want you to see me as a competitor,” Changbin said. “I think you’re amazing, and we would be so much better as partners.”

Regardless of his kind words, it still felt like he was mocking me, even if his tone suggested otherwise, and I couldn’t swallow down my pride and bruised ego long enough to acknowledge the truth. Instead, I hardened my gaze, looking at him as someone who continued to ruin our business each day I prepared our menu selections in the kitchen. “I think you should leave.”

“Y/N-”

I took a step back, bowing in front of him before I returned to the kitchen with his eyes burning a hole into the back of my head.

After our regular closing hours, I lingered behind in the kitchen office, staring at the blank computer screen. I couldn’t stop thinking about Changbin, and that was a problem. It was his fault that I was feeling so defeated, and I couldn’t imagine allowing him access to my personal life.

Thankfully, the familiar tone of my cell phone forced my attention elsewhere, and I answered the call with a distracted greeting. “Y/N!” an excited voice announced from the other end. “It’s Jeongin!”

“I have caller ID.”

“Oh, r-right,” he stuttered. “Anyway, I just got off the phone with one of my friends, and he said that his company was looking for a place to host their anniversary dinner this weekend. I mentioned our restaurant because I think the attention might help bring some interest back to JYP!”

I listened intently, feeling a familiar spark of hope. “What company?”

“It’s a huge TV network! The same one that programs Good Morning, New York!”

“How many people?”

“Uh, maybe like a couple hundred?”

I hesitated because I knew how difficult it would be to handle that many guests at one time, but I also knew that Jeongin had been right when he suggested that the publicity could be the push that we desperately required. “Tell them we would be more than happy to host.”

I hung up the phone with a loud exhale. What the hell was I doing?

The weekend approached fast, and I was slowly experiencing the numbing effects of panic when I realized that several of my chefs would be unable to help with dinner preparations for the party that we were hosting. “It might be pushing our limits, Y/N,” Chan said, and he stood next to me while I examined our depleted numbers.

“We can do it,” I said. “Everyone, let’s start preparing the main dishes!”

“Yes, chef!

I took a deep breath because we wouldn’t have a single moment of reprieve to accommodate the orders. But I had convinced myself that enough early preparation would help counter our severe lack of help in the kitchen. Subsequently, I was working my ass off to ensure that everything was progressing smoothly.

“Y/N,” Jeongin said. “People have started to arrive.”

“We can start serving soon,” I said. “Tell the waitstaff to get themselves ready.”

Jeongin nodded, but I could tell that he was nervous, and his lack of confidence was noticeably debilitating. Nevertheless, I encouraged everyone to work harder, trying to pay less attention to the accumulating orders. “Y/N, table eight has been waiting for twenty minutes on an appetizer.”

“I got it!” I shouted back, approaching the front counter with the shrimp plate in question.

“Y/N, what about the crab cakes?”

My heart was skyrocketing inside my chest. “It’s coming!”

“We need the chicken for table six!”

“Y/N, people are starting to ask me about the soup?”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck,” I cursed, trying to settle my breathing because there were dark spots building in my peripheral vision.

Chan graciously reached out for my arm, holding me steady with his strong hold. “We’re understaffed, Y/N, and Felix is crying in the bathroom!”

“Just hold on one second,” I said, pacing back and forth nervously across the kitchen floor.

“Y/N,” Chan said, shaking my shoulders. “We have to call Changbin for help.”

“Changbin!” I yelled, gripping the counter. “Are you serious?”

“We need extra hands,” Chan said. “Changbin told me the other night that he really wanted to support the restaurant.”

“He said that?”

“Call him,” Chan insisted, shoving the kitchen phone into my hand. “Please.”

I released a defeated sigh as I dialed his number, finding it listed in the phone book that we kept in the office. “Hello?” a gruff voice greeted me.

“Changbin,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s Y/N.”

“Well, this is a surprise,” Changbin’s smooth voice responded from the other end. “Did you change your mind about our date, Y/N?”

I groaned. “No, but I actually have something to ask you.”

“Really?” Changbin said, and his tone was playful. “It’s always hard to resist you.”

“I need your help Changbin,” I said, but there was a nasty taste left in my mouth after the words had already come out. “I’m hosting an important party at the restaurant, but my staff can’t keep up.”

I held my breath, waiting impatiently when I heard nothing from the other man. “Give me ten minutes,” he replied before I was greeted with the sound of the dial tone.

Changbin’s arrival was, for once, a breath of fresh air, and I ushered him into the kitchen with eager hands. He had also brought half a dozen of his own chefs, and they fell into order with my staff like a well-oiled machine. It was reassuring, and I felt myself grow lighter on my feet as I moved through the kitchen, filling orders at a much faster speed.

“Let me handle that one,” I said, grabbing one of the tickets from Jisung before rushing back to my station. I started cutting vegetables with a speed that I hadn’t seen since my early culinary school days.

“You look sexy doing that,” Changbin remarked from next to me.

I grinned because the comment was strangely endearing. “You’re just saying that.”

“I really mean it,” Changbin said, and his presence was somewhat intoxicating.

“Focus on your work,” I said, but I could feel that I was blushing.

“That’s cute, Y/N,” he said, reaching out to poke a finger against my cheek.

“Hands to yourself,” I added, and Changbin laughed before he grabbed the handle of his skillet to toss the contents of his dish.

“I think we’re finally caught up,” Jisung announced from the front of the kitchen and there was an audible sigh from my staff in the kitchen.

“What, is this a regular thing, Y/N?” Changbin asked. “How have you survived without me for all these years?”

“Perseverance,” I responded, turning up the heat on my grill and enjoying the accompanying sound of the chicken frying in the sauce mixture.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said, and I couldn’t help but shiver while I tried to figure out if he was talking about me or the dish.

Eventually, serving hours were completed, and most of the chefs had started to clean the mess that we had made of our dwindling supplies. Meanwhile, I studied the satisfied patrons from behind the revolving doors, and I felt proud of everything that had been accomplished. Even if that meant finding help in an unlikely ally who was engaged in polite conversation with Chan and Felix.

“Jeongin,” I said, drawing the younger’s attention.

“Yes, chef!” he saluted, and I bit back a smile.

“Find us some champagne from the back,” I said. “Bring glasses for everyone.”

“I’m on it!” he declared, and I watched him hurry to the back while I took one last look at the lingering party guests.

I wandered through the kitchen, occasionally offering to help clean one of the stations. At the same time, I couldn’t resist a persistent desire to glance at Changbin, watching him from the corner of my eye. For the first time since we had met, my attention wasn’t focused completely on the restaurant.

“I think it was a huge success, Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my musings when he returned from the dining hall. “I spoke to the CEO, and he said they would definitely consider us again as a future host!”

“Hopefully, we’ll have more help,” I said, reaching over to pat Jisung on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Are you sick, Y/N?”

“No,” I laughed, and my gaze immediately locked with Changbin’s. “I’m just grateful.”

Thereafter, Jeongin returned with a bottle of wine and several glasses. I quietly instructed him to give everyone some of the champagne. “Make sure the restaurant clears out,” I instructed Jisung who nodded obediently.

Meanwhile, I watched Jeongin flitter between the kitchen staff, holding out glasses and filling them to the very top with delicate bubbles. “Are we celebrating, Y/N?” Chan asked, pausing next to me.

I smiled. “I think everyone deserves it.”

Finally, Jisung made his return after sorting everything out with the CEO, carefully assisting our waitstaff in sorting out the evening’s conclusion. Thus, I held up a glass of champagne since the restaurant had finally cleared out, waiting patiently while the chefs gathered together for a short celebration. “Thank you,” I said. “To everyone because I was really in over my head.”

“That’s an understatement,” Chan snorted.

“Also, I’m glad that Changbin and his staff were able to help us,” I said. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Cheers!” Jisung shouted, and I brought my glass to my lips to enjoy the cooling effects of the alcohol as it slid down my parched throat.

It was late when I started to send most of the chefs home. I made sure to thank everyone again, smiling brightly because I was incredibly proud of their efforts. “We’re almost done with clean-up, Y/N,” Jeongin said, approaching me with an exhausted yawn.

“I’ll clean the rest,” I told Jeongin. “Everyone else can go home.”

Jeongin nodded, looking up at me with sleepy eyes. I grinned as he trudged out of the kitchen, and I took his place at the counter to wipe down the surface until it was spotlessly clean. “This is very dedicated of you, Y/N.”

I smirked at Changbin’s comment. “It’s the least I can do after tonight.”

“Well, you seem like a very ambitious person,” Changbin said, and I could feel him behind me.

“It’s just...been hard lately.”

“Why?”

I closed my eyes. “Honestly? I was a little worked up because we were losing a lot of business to your restaurant. It hurt my pride.”

“The novelty will wear off,” Changbin said. “People enjoy new things, but they always eventually look for what they really like again.”

“Are you trying to be wise?”

“Maybe I’m still trying to impress you,” he said, and the deep tenor of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

“What?”

“I really like you, Y/N,” he said, and I felt his lips right next to my ear and the warm sensation of his gentle breathing.

His hands smoothed down the fabric of my apron, holding my waist with an unrelenting grip. I shivered when his lips found the sensitive skin of my throat, placing teasing kisses wherever he could find space. He eventually turned me around in his arms, and I was lost in the endless pools of his eyes.

“Are you going to push me away?” he asked.

“Not anymore,” I replied, and it was nothing short of satisfying when he finally kissed me, and I could feel my head spin while my mind tried to process everything that was happening.

I could feel the counter digging into my lower back, and I hopped onto the clean surface while keeping our lips firmly attached. I also grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him between my legs to sear our lips together in a passionate display that stole every bit of oxygen from my burning lungs. He moaned when I let one hand tease the front of his dress pants through the fabric of his jeans and chef’s apron. “Does this mean I can have my date?”

I smiled, curling my fingers into his hair. “Whatever you want.”

“I just want you,” he said, and I seared our solemn declaration with another heart-fluttering kiss.

One Year Later

I had been dreaming, but there was one person who could always summon me from the clutches of my REM cycle. “Sweetheart,” his gentle voice whispered into my ear.

I groaned in protest, rolling over onto my side to avoid Changbin’s persistent wake-up call. However, it was hard to ignore him when I could feel him pull back the covers to settle between my legs. “Don’t do that,” I whined.

“What?”

“You’re trying to convince me to wake-up,” I said. “Let’s sleep longer.”

“Are we gonna skip the opening tonight?” Changbin asked with a husky chuckle.

I sighed, looking up at him with barely-opened eyes. “It’s still so far away.”

“That’s why I’m doing this,” he said, running his hands along my thighs, creeping past the barrier of my shirt.

“Binnie...”

“Y/N,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck this little pussy, and then we’re getting dressed for tonight.”

My eyes shot open immediately. “You better keep that promise.”

Changbin growled low in his chest, pressing a kiss to the front of my panties, and I curled my fingers into his hair because I wouldn’t be able to walk when he was finished with me.

Needless to say, it was a beautiful day for a grand opening, and I studied the front of our new restaurant with pride. It had been a while since the incident that brought us all together, but I enjoyed every day that I spent with Changbin by my side. I had also met so many interesting new people, and our staff finally felt like one giant family. Therefore, we had agreed to open a place together, equipped with a combination of our best staff and servers, and I was excited to welcome tonight’s guests.

“Y/N, should we start kitchen prep?” Jeongin asked, looking at me from inside the front entrance.

“Sure,” I told him with a nod. He clapped his hands together rapidly, disappearing behind the door with my favorite smile.

“Are you not going to help them?”

His teasing voice only brightened my mood, and I felt his arms wrap around me from behind. “I just wanted to see everything before we opened.”

“What do you think?” Changbin asked, looking at me for approval.

I nodded my head with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids oneshot #skz one shot #skz fluff #skz smut #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #stray kids changbin fanfic #seo changbin oneshot

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the-blue-fairie · 5 years ago

Text

My experience as a multishipper in the Frozen fandom

I’m writing this because a post crossed the dash of my other blog insinuating that people are using “multishipping” to “use and manipulate” people to like F2 when they don’t want to and to get people to turn from their preferred ship and create for other ships instead.

If people are trying to force others to like F2 or disregard their preferred ships, that is bad, but what struck me about the post was the way it treated multishipping as an evil that the individual could not abide.

It got me to thinking about my personal experience as a multishipper in the fandom and about how the Frozen fandom is an emotionally exhausting place for a multishipper.

To discuss this, I’m going to have to be open about my other blog and about all my ships. Although I’ve opened up to friends here about my two blogs, and even written another post about my multishipping, it’s not common knowledge that I have another blog - and partly that’s by design. This blog is focused on general Disney things and less controversial ships. I want to be mindful and respectful of my followers and not make them feel uncomfortable. I also am scared of receiving hate if my other blog were common knowledge.

But I cannot be reflective of my time in the fandom without being completely open and honest.

I’ve been an Elsanna shipper since 2014, and I made an Elsanna-centered blog in 2015. Just typing that out on this blog scares me (even though I’ve typed it out before here - as recently as when I was venting the night before last.) I lost a few followers that night. I’m probably going to lose more now. I’m sorry if I’m shattering an image you had of me, but I hope, if you’ve enjoyed my blog and appreciated my presence here, you’ll remember the goodness you saw in me and remember also that I never wanted to hurt or offend you.

Truth be told, Elsanna is still the ship that’s closest to my heart. I love Kristanna, I love Elsamaren, I love Helsa, I love Rydoff - but Elsanna is special to me. Some may find this hard to believe who weren’t there in 2014-15, but Elsanna was kind of like the Elsamaren of its time - a ship populated by scores of energetic young people who deeply connected to the characters and wanted to figure themselves out. It was a breathtaking wellspring of creativity and to this day I love the ship - while at the same time loving Snow Sisters within canon and Frohana.

There were ship wars between EA and HE back then, with one side crying, “At least our ship isn’t rooted in murder and manipulation!” and the other side crying, “At least our ship isn’t incest!” I’ll admit, I was dubious about Helsa when I first came to the Frozen fandom - but by a happy quirk of fate, I managed to reach out to people who shipped Helsa. They became my friends, and I started to realize that, whatever my misgivings about the ship, Helsa shippers were among the nicest people in the fandom. Many of my closest friends in the Frozen fandom now are Helsa shippers. And the more time I spent with them, the more I realized, there is beauty in the ship. I love the beauty of Helsa art, the talent of Helsa artists, and I value the friendships I’ve made.

There were ship wars between EA and KA back then too - and, as an Elsanna shipper, KA shippers back then would block me on sight, even if I never interacted with them. Some have told me since that it was nothing personal; they just didn’t want to be exposed to incest. But, in the moment, it stung - because I’ve always loved Kristanna and I wanted to be a part of the ship, share the oneshots and the drabbles I could write, share any of the beautiful things I could give.

So I made this blog - so I could share in the joys and the fun of KA without making anyone uncomfortable, and share in the larger Disney fandom (because if I ever dared follow a Disney blog from my main, chances are I’d be blocked on sight because, “Ewwww, that ship is repulsive.”)

I took that to heart a lot. “It’s okay, they’re within their rights to block me, one of my ships is repulsive, I just have to grit my teeth and endure it.” And gradually, my mind went from “one of my ships is repulsive” to “it’s okay, I’m repulsive, I understand that.”

It meant I felt incredibly guilty when I made this blog. I felt like I was being selfish - doing it partly because I wanted it for myself, wanted to be part of a group. But at the same time, having a separate blog meant that I wasn’t imposing my one ship on people who wouldn’t enjoy it. So I was also looking out for the wellbeing of any followers I got here.

It also meant that, for the longest time, I was absolutely terrified of anyone finding out I had my other blog. I told a few close friends and, while my name and bio information on both blogs were the same if anyone looked at both, I discreetly tried to... well, never confirm my identity directly. I didn’t even tell fellow EA shippers, outside of my close friends, because I didn’t want word to spread across a vast group of people and for someone on this blog to realize I shipped EA.

Looking back, that was an overreaction born of anxiety, but it had unfortunate consequences.

A friend who shipped EA found out I had this blog and felt betrayed about it. When I stood up for KA shippers at certain points, she accused me of “playing both sides.” During that debacle, I was called an “enemy of Elsanna” - which hurt me.

I regret not opening up to that friend about this blog. I didn’t know not doing so would hurt her - but also, being called an “enemy” of a ship that I love stung.

From the Kristanna side, a young gentlemen with a particular hate for EA eventually put two and two together and realized that I had two blogs. He stalked my EA blog. He sent me messages excoriating me and threatening to expose me. Then he sent messages to countless people, including friends of mine on here, “exposing” me as an Elsanna shipper. That was exhausting. My friends, however, were left as exhausted by him as I was and did not heed him.

Other KA shippers were far kinder. Eventually, certain folks in the KA ship told me that they knew who I was for a while now and that it didn’t bother them - as long as I was keeping Elsanna out of their faces. That was a great relief to me and very reassuring.

Still, certain KA shippers have a particular dislike for Elsa as a character and leap to demonize her, something that makes me uncomfortable. Moreover, a KA shipper I conversed with once made a contemptuously dismissive comment about Snow Sisters fans, saying that they didn’t care for Snow Sisters because “Snow Sisters and Elsanna are the same ship; one just has sex.” Which... um... I dare you to say that to a Snow Sisters fan’s face; I am almost certain they would be angry.

For all my reservations about certain aggressive KA shippers, however, the aggressiveness of certain EA shippers has been... really something else. I have already made a post discussing the belligerence of a particular person (who shall remain nameless here because they scare me and so I don’t want to cross paths with them again.) But this person compared me to fascists... because I was uncomfortable with their intense behavior. Also, when I mentioned how this person drove a dear friend and multishipper away from the Elsanna ship, this person replied, “I didn’t drive her away, her multishipping did.”

As though to say, “If you have multiple ships, you can’t be a part of Elsanna.” Even if my friend was in the ship from the beginning and made beautiful things to celebrate it before feeling like she was no longer wanted. As though to suggest you don’t fit their vision of what a “True” Elsanna shipper is.

Look, being a multishipper doesn’t make you want to part ways with a ship. In fact, being a multishipper means you have an emotional connection to multiple ships that you want to show your love to.

I can’t speak for all multishippers. And again, if there are people trying to insidiously push others to like F2 when they don’t like it or make art for ships they don’t want to, that’s a bad thing. (Always look into the evidence for and examine the source of such accusations, however - any accusations.) But personally, as a multishipper, I don’t want to force my will on anyone. I don’t want to make anyone like F2 if they don’t want to. (For the record, although I personally like F2 overall, there are parts I dislike - and I’ve actually criticized the film several times on this very blog - respectfully, I hope, and with strong supporting evidence for my points, I hope.) And I don’t want to impose my other ships on anyone. That’s even part of the reason I have two blogs.

I’ve been... scared... writing this out. I felt I needed to post it to this blog because I’ve so often... cowered... here. Maybe it wasn’t cowardice, but it was a kind of... uncomfortable learned silence born partly out of respect for others and partly out of fear for myself. I could speak more freely on my other blog, which is why I commented on my perspective on fandom dramas there - even though speaking out on my other blog meant being compared to fascism when I ventured to say that people should be nicer.

I’m being vulnerable here. I know that some will say, “How are you being vulnerable by admitting you ship a problematic ship? Stop trying to play for sympathy because you ship incest!” - just as certain EA shippers will judge me for shipping other ships in the fandom.

Maybe it’s just my nervousness, but sometimes I feel like I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. If I stay silent about shipping different things, some will say I’m manipulating people through my silence. If I speak up, people will say I’m obnoxious and never shut up about it and claim that obviously I have some agenda. (That’s what they’ll say about this post, won’t they?)

Maybe it would have been better if I had just kept one blog - but then I’d be blocked on principle by certain KA and EM fans - or asked not to interact, and being respectful, I wouldn’t. (Does that mean I’m disrespectful by having this blog? Oh, I don’t know anymore.) Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I hope that, when I write further analyses and critiques and make comments on the things I like and dislike about F2 now, people won’t dismiss my commentary by saying, “Oh! Liza has reservations about the film’s ending because she’s an EA shipper, that explains it, I might have known.” My reservations about the film’s ending come more from issues in story structure and my attachment to found family tropes and Frohana - not so much EA. EA might play some part - but judging things based on ships rather than nuance and the complexity of other people’s points is what’s so exhausting about the Frozen fandom. Don’t judge people based on ships; judge them by their actions and the soundness of their arguments. And besides, for all my reservations about the ending, there’s a place in my heart for it. I’m an Elsamaren shipper too after all. :)

This is so very long and deeply personal, but I needed to give it voice. I hope that those who have befriended me on this blog and didn’t know about my other blog will remember that I’ve always done my best to be kind and caring, regardless of my ships.

Thank you for your friendships. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you.

#frozen beef #bigfrozensix #frozen

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talldarkandroguesome · 4 years ago

Text

21st of Frostfall, Turdas

There is nothing I had been looking quite so forward to as a reunion with my family. My beloved Nabine awaiting me at the gate, our bright faced children besides her, bouncing with excitement to be back together once more.

But that is not what awaited my return.

As soon as I arrived back in the Mournhold Temple, I found Mother waiting for me, a stern look upon her face.

Nothing kills the spirit quite so much as one sour look from Indoril Mehra Indoril. It is a look that lets you know that, not only are things not good, you are likely to be held responsible for the consequences.

I had not even recovered from the remaining vertigo of teleportation when she stalked forward and told me that my concubine and children were gone.

Well, to say this sent me reeling would be an understatement. I was in shock. I was worried that they might be kidnapped or worse.

Mother continued that Nabine had received word that her own mother was terribly ill and thought not to last much longer and that if she wished to say her final goodbyes, that she must leave at once. A letter had been sent to find me, but given my reaction, it had not yet reached me.

I said it surely had not!

Mother explained that Nabine had petitioned the House to allow her to take Kuna along and only after expressing the serious nature of the situation and agreeing to an escort, was she allowed to go at once.

I had so many questions, but Mother told me that, although this might be a minor shock, I needed to have gotten over it by morning, for the House Council was looking for a full report of the situation as soon as possible.

So I was left sputtering and in very great need of answers as Mother walked away, leaving me still clutching my head.

A bright faced acolyte led me to an awaiting carriage and I was taken home.

Sildras and Avon were at the gate. Sildras came bounding up to me and gave me a great big hug and started to explain about Nabine. I lifted him off the ground in a hug, surprised how much more difficult it was then it had been in the past. He is growing so fast. I swear he was taller than when I left.

Avon and Sildras spoke of what had happened while we came into the house.

It was all as Mother had said. Avon had assisted Nabine in finding the correct method of petitioning the House in order to allow her to take Kuna, since they were only going to allow her to go with Cariel. They had really fought to try and prevent one of my heirs from leaving and entering enemy territory.

Sildras said, in a very small, almost bitter, tone of disappointment, that he had wanted to go too, but that he had not been allowed. So he decided to stay and be the master of the estate in my stead.

Clearly this was a line fed to him by Mother. While I appreciate her helping Sildras to feel less upset about not getting to go, the phrase left a bitter taste.

I did not dwell on that, instead presenting Sildras with a small stack of books I acquired upon arcane topics. He was quite happy for them, save one, which he already owned a copy of. But he said he would use this one to take notes into directly.

Avon poured me a glass of brandy and asked about what happened. It was lunchtime, so we went to the dining room and I explained the most broad aspects of my journey, leaving out some of the situation with Vehk so that it would not alarm Sildras overly.

I later gave Avon all the finer details, but for the moment I said no more.

After the meal, I took a bath. I needed to relax and try and take in everything that had happened. To figure out what to do.

It felt like I was losing Nabine all over again.

I know that she was unhappy here and I cannot imagine she will be overly inclined to return to this life.

What can I do? I do not wish to force her. Yet I fear what the House might do if she does not return with Kuna.

I never should have had her become an official heir. I just wanted her to be recognized. To be safe. To have the privilege she deserves.

I should have known better.

Why must I ruin everything I love?

And yet, I have to prepare everything for the Council in the morning. I need to make sure that my story is solid in every detail. I cannot allow for any deception to be detected, lest they are compelled to scrutinize things further.

I am unsure exactly what the Vivec Temple will have passed along to Mournhold Temple and what of that will have reached the Council. Obviously with some of the most influential members of the Temple on the House Council, some of it will have come to the Council’s attention. I just have to make sure everything I say aligns with what they already know.

But wording in these situations is paramount. I know how closely I will be scrutinized.

I have left my gifts for the rest of the family in their rooms. I only hope that they will return to enjoy them. Or perhaps I should go after them?

I cannot until after this business is concluded.

Though it would likely mean having to leave Sildras once again. Can I truly do that to my son so soon after my return?

I need to explain the rest of things to Avon. And show him the book. See what he makes of it all.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

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itsbenedict · 4 years ago

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Two-Faced Jewel: Session 12

Foolish Heroes of Barley

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party had returned to Barley to deal with a few loose ends. They've been staying in town for a while, waiting for their hired Deathseekers to deal with the dragon in the tower. This session, their stay comes to an end, and as you can see from the image here, they don't get into any trouble whatsoever.

A few other things happen before their fateful final night in town:

Kevin Softbreeze, the herbalist from the Deathseekers, visits town and sells Looseleaf some magic flowers that repel demons- though they're not very potent, and she'll need to stop by his garden in Cauterdale if she wants some seeds to try growing. Saelhen buys some potent knockout drops.

The villagers appear to still be arming themselves and preparing for battle with Wheat- since they didn't mention Arnie as the culprit at all, and tried to pin it on the dragon directly, Malath is still skeptical that they're totally safe from invasion, and defensive preparations continue.

Rumors spread that Chitch has gone missing, but no one can find the body. The party spreads rumors of their own- true ones- that Chitch went to go find his daughter after learning that the pain-wizard is dead.

On their fifth night in the village- somewhat earlier than expected- they notice something outside the window of their rooms in the inn. Lumiere's tower, previously unnoticeable, is suddenly aglow with some sort of yellow cylindrical magic barrier, made up of hexagonal panels.

Looseleaf rouses the rest of the party- the plan is to watch from a distance, and not interfere. A very loud roar is heard in the distance, which is suddenly cut off in the middle- it seems the Deathseekers have sprung their trap.

It's not too much longer after that when they begin to hear screams from around them in the village.

Saelhen's elf eyes spot... something rustling in the fields around the village. All of them. Quite a lot of somethings. Except despite the rustling, she can't make out anything but barley stalks. And the nothing- the hordes of nothing- is moving towards the tower.

The party leaps into action, heading downstairs with weapons drawn. On the ground floor, they see... something sort of familiar. Those Greed Echoes, the mud-and-grass monsters they fought on the road- one of them is forming itself out of broken bottles, dust, and wooden planks uprooted from the floor of the Harvester Inn. Cassie, the innkeeper, is watching in terror, knuckles white gripping a frying pan.

Congratulations! You're both right! The dragon is summoning an army of hateful Justice Echoes powered by the roused hatred of Wheat that's been stirred up in town!

Oyobi thinks fast, and oneshots the echo in the kitchen with an arrow, shattering a bottle that'd become its core. The screams outside continue, though, and the party exits the inn to find panicked villagers fleeing their homes. Justice Echoes made primarily from twisted stalks of barley have formed in their fields and homes, taking the weapons amassed for self-defense from their owners. They attack only those who resist, and make their way towards the tower.

Looseleaf: Let's just attack some hate-plague spirits and see if they decide to attack us instead. If they don't attack us at all, then we can just ignore them and run leisurely next to them and pick them off as we go. If they attack us, then it's a regular fight. "We're up to do some heroism this fine night, right, team?" Oyobi Yamatake: "Obviously!" Orluthe Chokorov: "Uh, I don't have that one prepared, do I? Uh..." Vayen: Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I am up to rub Mother K's face in the super obvious consequences of her actions while incidentally preventing pointless suffering." "Go team! Woo!"

Looseleaf starts us off by rending the spirit of the closest barley-monster, using her new Painspike ability to make the target Frightened of her.

However... these monsters have no purpose except to attack that which they fear, so rather than the normal effect of being Frightened, Looseleaf has now drawn aggro from this monster. Which is kind of what she wanted! So, that's a win! She now has a way to goad the enemy!

The party takes some swings at the monsters, knocking a couple out, but most of them seem to just be ignoring them, continuing to run through the fields towards the tower. They could become a problem for the Deathseekers if they're not dealt with- or for Wheat, for that matter.

Backup arrives in the form of Malath Kanthalga, who perceives these events as- what else?- an attack by Wheat. She's screaming, demanding to know who's responsible, and smashing echoes apart with her mace. Still, the echoes are mostly ignoring the village- they're grabbing anything they can find to use as a weapon, sort of ransacking the place, but most of them are just fleeing.

So Saelhen comes up with an extremely well-timed plan. It's a really good plan, I love it, and I'm excited to hit them with the consequences of her plan- until Looseleaf issues a timely bit of advice:

Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen dashes (Cunning Action), steps forward, inhales a great gulp of breath... "FOOLISH HEROES OF BARLEY!" she bellows. "WHILE YOU FUTILELY WASTE YOURSELVES AGAINST WHEAT'S DEFENSES, I, THE SECRET SHADOW MAYOR OF WHEAT, WILL BE HERE BURNING YOUR HOMES!" "AND ALSO MENACING YOUR CITIZENS WITH MY PERMISSIVE IDEOLOGY!" She waves her hooded lantern, unlit, above her head, to drive the point home. "WHO AMONG YOU CAN STOP ME AND DELIVER JUSTICE? NO ONE, PROBABLY, I ASSUME!"

Vayen, in a surprising show of, let's call it camaraderie, is very much in support of this plan for some reason! He takes a break from his busy schedule of doing absolutely nothing every turn in combat to cast a helpful illusion, to ensure as many monsters aggro Saelhen as possible!

A few more rounds of combat ensue, with a good chunk of the monsters- including a few very large building-sized hulks- immediately turning to kill Saelhen. The party gets some good hits in, and Saelhen gets a little roughed up. She... would like maybe fewer things to be attacking her, actually.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Their attention is on me, Mother Kanthalga, the secret mayor of Wheat this entire time, but you might be able to calm their anger! These creatures were born from this town's... collective mind, or something, they may listen to you if you order them to stand down!" Benedict I. (GM): Not with advantage, but a 22... "Wh... what? What are you saying? That's..." She hesitates, then speaks, in a booming voice she- well, you spent a few days here, you know she reserves it for sermons. "STAND DOWN! The time to strike against our foe has not yet come!" "We must be prudent! We must defend ourselves, not attack!" [DEFEND OURSELVES,] the echoes agree, continuing to bear down on Saelhen. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Worth a shot!

It doesn't seem like these things are hugely receptive to emotional appeals or logical argument- they have the one emotion, which they're made of, and they don't super do other ones.

In the following combat rounds, Saelhen... takes a few more hits, which she is not designed to do on account of being a rogue.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: WHY DID I NOT DECLARE ORLUTHE THE SECRET SHADOW MAYOR

More echoes emerge from the fields and attack, and Saelhen is starting to look really rough- and Vayen just keeps the illusion on her, not actually helping in any way. Until... one of them goes for Looseleaf, instead. When it starts looking like she might be in danger, he fires off a bolt of blue electricity, which begins to singe one of the monsters attacking her for damage every turn. He's... a higher-level spellcaster than anyone else in the party, apparently!

Looseleaf, with a little room to maneuver, unfolds her wings and takes to the air- up and out of reach of the smaller monsters, drawing their aggro and forcing them to waste turns. Meanwhile, Orluthe and Oyobi, backed up by Malath and a couple of villagers who've reclaimed their weapons, cut down a few more echoes as more surge forth from the fields to replace them.

Saelhen... keeps trying to persuade Malath to persuade the echoes to stop. She does very well at persuading Malath to try that! Malath tries that, wholeheartedly, once again to no effect! Eventually, Malath stops trying.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Would you consider coming to them as a trusted comrade, who trained them to protect them, rather than the one leading them off to war? Maybe?" Malath Kanthalga: "I am going to come to them as a very angry warrior with a mace," she growls. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Okay! Okay, fair enough. Spiritual remedies off the table, understood."

Orluthe is getting really tired, and keeps whiffing his swings- it's touch-and-go for a while. But Saelhen and Looseleaf's frantic attempts to kite enemies out of range have been paying off, and they manage to down the remaining super-hulks juuuuust before anyone dies.

Benedict I. (GM): Y'know, it's possible that making the two squishiest members of the party draw aggro was not the number one best strategic move Saelhen du Fishercrown: IT MAYBE WASN'T, NO Looseleaf: eh, it's worked out so far!

The combat wraps up, and we transition to a bunch of Athletics rolls to chase down and terminate as many of the smaller echoes as possible. They build a firepit in the center of town, to dispose of defeated echoes in- just in case that's necessary, because who knows what kind of magic is animating these guys.

So after a wild night of chasing, taunting, fleeing, and burning justice echoes- well, it's not so much a wild night as a wild twenty minutes or so- there's a point at which the fields just suddenly fall silent. A pair of echoes chasing Saelhen fall to the ground, inert.

With a good roll...

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...of course, you're free to dismiss this as the ramblings of a crazed outsider. But keep in mind, Mother Kanthalga, that the ones who fell upon your town, tore it apart in a frenzy of violence, and stabbed you repeatedly for your pains, endangering your people, your daughter and your livelihoods, were repeating the words you taught them." Benedict I. (GM): Malath winces. "That... I don't know why they..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...think on it. You're reasonable people, around here. You can come to your own conclusions." Benedict I. (GM): "I tell you, I did not make these things! If not for..." She's kind of lost for words. "...Apologies. I have much work to do," she says, and leaves.

After some work mending the village and cleaning up the aftermath, Looseleaf heads back into the inn to check on Vayen, who hasn't been helping at all and is instead drunk at the bar. He asks "Did she make it?"- and Looseleaf gets a nat 20 on Insight.

She's pretty sure that he was talking about Saelhen- and that he sounded almost hopeful. He was unusually jazzed about a plan that involved her being attacked by a horde of angry monsters- and he chose to shoot the echo that was attacking her, not the one bearing down on Saelhen with a bunch of its friends. When she informs him Saelhen survived, she's able to tell he's disappointed.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: so he doesn't hate us, as a group he hates saelhen specifically Looseleaf: But also weirdly- okay, what if: what if he actually has an ancestral quest involving that bracer and he's mad that saelhen beat him to the punch and furthermore used it as a shitty cover story Saelhen du Fishercrown: saelhen going THE DE LA SURPLUS ANCESTRAL QUEST IS REAL???

Looseleaf switches to talking to Vayen via her spirit-magic imitation of the Message spell.

Looseleaf: (Like, Vayen, everything you're doing is about Saelhen in some way or other. And I can't figure out why. You seem pretty much ambivalent towards all of us except for her. I don't get it. If you want Saelhen dead, why haven't you just killed her? I saw that lightning bolt- if you wanted, I bet you could take all of us, in a straight fight.) (You're sending real mixed signals. If you want her dead, why isn't she dead? Why do you want her to be dead via a hand other than your own?) Vayen: He locks up. And then sighs. Looseleaf: (And now you're sitting here sounding all tired and sad and I feel bad about that.) (I dunno, do you want to, uh, talk about it, with someone.) Vayen: "I don't... want her... to be dead," he says, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I have nothing against her." Looseleaf: (Then it's the- bracer??) Vayen: I'm letting that one Insight roll do a lot of work here, but he definitely reacts to that. "I- um, no," he says, lying. Looseleaf: (There is literally nothing significant about Saelhen other than her bracer, unless you plan on telling me that your deepest desire is to defeat the dance emperor of Kanzentokai in a danceoff and reclaim your ancestral throne of dancing glory.) (Which, granted, if that's the case, that'd be amazing.) Vayen: "I don't know what you're- that's not..." "It's all coincidence. Whatever you're thinking. I don't have- I don't have anything against- Saelhen? Noeru?" Looseleaf: (Look, I- okay, here's how I see things. I don't know how the bracer works, it's weird magic stuff, but the way I see it, there's two major ways the bracer could work.) (That is, you either want the bracer for yourself, because whatever it does or whatever you need it for, you need to be the one wearing it- OR, you just need anybody willing to use the bracer to do whatever it is the bracer's supposed to do.) Vayen: "...Can you not?" "I- I have a job." "I have an important job." "It's from the School of Restricted Arts." Looseleaf: "Well, tell us about the dang important job then! Maybe we can help you with it." "I don't get why you're preassuming that we'd never do anything you might want us to do." Vayen: "It's from the School of- are you listening?" "It's secret." "Look, it's- you don't need to worry about it, okay?" Looseleaf: "Hhhhhrlgkrkshxzshktkrrrzzzzktttttkzzz," Looseleaf says, reverting to her natural dialect in a brief moment of frustration. Vayen: "Sure, it's easier if- I mean, she- that was her idea, she wanted to..." "I just- I can just..." "As long as I can keep an eye on..." He groans. "I shouldn't be talking to you." "You're not in the School." Looseleaf: "Okay, just- hhhjkkkkkrkxxxxxtk." Vayen:"Are... you okay?" He's never asked a question like that before. Looseleaf: (I'm fine, that's just how we express frustration, our throats don't naturally conform to making sounds like 'hrrrrrgh', whenever I do that it's a performative thing that I do to adhere to human expectations- look, the big reason why I'm trying to, pound my way through your portcullis of secrecy with a twenty-foot battering ram of blunt communication,) (is because right now Saelhen is like, probably 80% convinced you're trying to poison her in your sleep.) (Seriously, this amount of in-party distrust is, like, way too Ccorde-damned much.) Vayen: "I wouldn't do that," he says. "If I were going to do that, I'd have done it already. Looseleaf: (If you'd express, in a credible way, that you're actually just trying to get Saelhen to do whatever it is she'd do anyways, she'd feel a lot better about it!) (And then she might even work with you to further your goals directly!) Vayen: He doesn't say anything for a little while. "...This is stupid." "This isn't even- it's wrong, even." "Maybe that's why." Man, that bottle he's holding is emptier than you thought it'd be. He's only been here less than half an hour. "Don't try to- guh, friends. He'll never- stupid. What's the point." He sort of collapses on the bar.

Vayen, it seems, can't hold his liquor. Looseleaf... carries him back up to his room.

Next time: the party finally leaves Barley, for good this time! And also a minor medical emergency happens, and also they kidnap a twelve-year-old, but like, it's fine. It'll be fine. Don't worry about it.

#twofaced jewel #tfj log

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bucketslutz · 4 years ago

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Get Out the Way

Chapter 3: Sabotage

Summary: You were successful as a bounty hunter for a while, and now as a skilled fighter working in an arena. You were craving excitement, until a Mandalorian crosses your path and offers you the opportunity to help bring his kid back and avenge the death of someone you lost long ago. Working with the bucket-head, though, isn't going as smoothly as you thought. Will it all be worth it in the end?

You can read Get Out the Way on AO3 here.

Warnings: 18+ only pls, violence, gore, language, bounty hunting, enemies to lovers sorta, slow burn af, banter, grogu in danger, AFAB reader, badass female reader, yes reader is a bounty hunter, smut eventually but for now they hate each other

Chapter Summary: Mando and reader butt heads, yet again. At wits end, reader takes matters into her own hands to force Mando to take a break.

Your jaw still hurts. And it sure does look like it hurts too. The yellow halo around the purple, black, and blue bruise isn’t easy on the eyes. Who would’ve thought an old geezer like Brehan could’ve done something like that to your face. You’re still upset with Shiny over the way he spoke to you after the mission. You didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, no matter what the circumstances were that surrounded the argument. If it wasn’t for your quick thinking, Brehan would’ve escaped. Mando can be so temperamental, the slightest thing can push him over the edge. You’re tired of walking on eggshells around him so you’ve done your best to not speak to him during the trip through hyperspace. Better to avoid another argument altogether than to unintentionally start one. You’ve practically been alone this entire trip. Not like you’re not used to being alone. You’ve been by yourself for a while now and can make do; you eat by yourself, sleep by yourself, get drunk by yourself. You almost prefer it. There’s no disappointment when you’re alone. No one to tell you you’re not good enough and no one will have to leave. It’s better this way. You can save yourself from more heartbreak when you don’t let anyone near you; because when you don’t let anyone near you, you won’t get that hollow feeling in your chest when they inevitably leave you. So you’ve managed all these years with mindless hookups in alleyways behind cantinas. You’ve had a couple of those guys crawl back for more, but you did what you always did and shut them out. Can’t let someone get to know you, learn to love you, then want to leave you. It makes life more bearable. Surviving is easier than living; do what you need to do to get by, because pleasure is a luxury most cannot afford. You’d rather not waste your time on dreaming for what you can’t attain so instead you settle for what’s accessible, because that’s easy and something you don’t have to try for. It’s black and white and something you don’t have to spend too much time worrying about. You spend too much of your time thinking: what do they mean by that? Do they want to kill me? What if he doesn’t want to sleep with me? Why is he looking at me like that? Are they angry with me...? The times you can escape the thinking and just do are the most precious to you. The freedom of leaving anxious thoughts behind and doing without the stress of consequence is something you won’t take for granted. You’re strong, physically. You could take down men twice your size with your bare hands. And you’re adept with a blaster, whip, vibroblade, you name it. Your skills are something you’ve never had to question. Sometimes you get overwhelmed when thrown into intense situations, and thoughts along the lines of “I won’t make it out of here alive,” begin to cross your mind. But then the action begins. And you no longer question it, and just do. That’s the one luxury you can afford.

You start to take notice to the ambiance of hyperspace; the subtle chiming and beeping of the ship, the dull hum as the ship traverses through lightspeed, and the absence of a particular heavily armored presence. Eventually, you gain complete consciousness and your heavy eyes open completely. Your back doesn’t hurt this time, thankfully. You decided to lay down on the floor to rest instead of with your back against one of the crates. You can only assume you’re alone in here, you’ve no clue if Shiny is in the cockpit or his cot, and you don’t really care to check either. You didn’t realize how strenuous this mission would be. Your body hasn’t felt this tired and achy since you hunted for bounties. But, stars, you missed that feeling; sleeping when you can, your body fighting signs of fatigue, always on the move. It made you feel alive. It’s a feeling you couldn’t recreate, and having spent so much time away from that side of your life, it’s been hard to feel that alive again. Until now, as you’re fulfilling a promise you made to yourself so long ago. Even though you’re working with Mr. Hotheaded-Bucket-Face, you’re still happy to be back in action. He’s got maker-given talent, but dank farrik is he a pain in the ass to work with.

Red lights above your head begin to flash and the ship starts to chime. You were confused; a trip from Numidian Prime to Sriluur would take longer than a day. You shouldn’t be dropping out of hyperspace so soon. The door that conceals Mando’s cot slides open and you whip your head towards the disturbance. He slips out and climbs up the ladder to the cockpit before you can even ask him why you’ve dropped out of hyperspace so soon. Deciding to find out where he’s taking you both, you ascend the ladder and enter the already-parted doorway to the cockpit. Through the transparisteel, you fail to recognize the planet you’ve come upon. The way in which he always fails to communicate the most basic things, will never cease to amaze you.

“This isn’t Sriluur, you mind to indulge me as to where you’ve decided to take us?” you inquire, your tone bitter and caustic.

He reaches above his head and flicks various switches, as his right hand remains on one of the toggles that steers the ship.

“I’m stopping on Raxus for a brief layover. We’ll be in and out. I just need to fuel up the ship before I make the jump to Sriluur,” he says directly.

A layover didn’t sound like a bad idea. The ship needed the fuel, and maybe a good once-over. You’d hate it if something internally happened to the ship on Sriluur, especially if you both needed to make a quick escape. You can’t have the Crest suddenly decide to break down on you both if you need it desperately to get you guys out of a tight spot. Plus, maybe you could finally get a shower and some decent sleep on an actual bed while they make repairs to the ship.

“Maybe you should get some work done on the Crest while we’re down there,” you suggest.

“So there’s something wrong with it?” he asks, haughtily. As if your question was pointless because “no one knows this ship like he does.”

“There could be,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “But would you rather find out in repairs? Or while we’re trying to run from blaster fire?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the ship,” he says, now sounding slightly upset. “I don’t want to waste more time than we have to on Raxus.”

“It’s just a suggestion. A reasonable one, might I add,” you huff.

Here it is, the bitchy tone, the irrational response, the stubbornness, all the things you’ve been trying to avoid running into. You’re not making an outrageous request, you know a part of him agrees with you. He’s just being a stubborn know-it-all; he has to be right.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you ask harshly, his helmet remaining fixed on the planetary view outside the transparisteel.

“I’m not an idiot, this isn’t my first high-profile hunt. I’ve been on hundreds of hunts just like this one. So believe me when I tell you if we have one slip up on Sriluur, Wraak will not hesitate to kill us both,” you thundered. Your tone is suddenly urgent, and frustrated. You need him to understand the severity of these circumstances. “I’ve seen him kill people over less. So unless you didn’t hire me for my intel, you shouldn’t be questioning whether or not my advice is worth taking.”

You turn around sharply and stomp down the ladder as you leave the cockpit. He needed to hear that, as harsh as it was. You don’t care if his feelings are spared or not; he’s a big boy, he can handle it. Even though he sometimes doesn’t act like it. For someone as renowned as he is, he sure doesn’t act like the professional he supposedly is. You’d think someone of his caliber would understand how to handle high stress situations, but he seems to be crumbling under the slightest bit of pressure. You’re not sure how you know, but this doesn’t seem to be Shiny at his best. He might need rest. He can’t infiltrate Wraak’s base if he’s not in the right headspace; there can be no room for error this time. You understand why he’s hesitant to stay on Raxus, you wouldn’t want to leave a vulnerable, helpless child with someone like Wraak. But if you don’t prepare to the fullest, then you’re going to lose everything you’re working for. This is a delicate process, you can’t let Mando’s poor lack of judgement fuck it up. He needs a drink, or a shower, or a good night’s sleep on a bed rather than a cot. He needs some time to straighten out his thoughts so he can actually manage to survive this mission. You’ve been in his shoes before; too emotionally involved in the outcome of a hunt that you begin to lose yourself. You forget to eat, drink, bathe, sleep, even breathe. Then you can’t focus because you’re too tired and you’re body is too weak from the lack of nutrients to fight. He needs a break. And you’re going to have to be the one to force him to take one. You’re gonna have to do something kinda shitty, but it’s the only way to get him to take a break.

You can feel the ship rattle and shake as it enters Raxus’ atmosphere; muffled chimes emanate through the parted doors of the cockpit above. You feel almost insane for actively wanting to sabotage the ship, it’s just going to be so damn satisfying to break something. Even if it’s a small something. This flying garbage pile seems to be more trouble than it’s worth, but he seems to manage with it. Parts of the Crest buzz and whirr as the landing array folds out in preparation to set itself down. The ship clunks as it lands and Mando departs from the cockpit not soon after the ship settles on the ground. The ramp opens revealing the fuel port Mando’s landed in, surrounded by autumnal trees and tanned mountain ranges. Various pit droids twiddled about, engrossed in menial tasks. Mando approached them and tried to get their attention, but they seemed too preoccupied to really care about what shiny was doing. That seemed like it was going to take a while, so now’s your chance. You cross to the ladder and climb up to the upper level, where the generator room is located. You need to target something small enough he wouldn’t notice, but big enough that the ship wouldn’t be able to take off without it. You eye the various control panels and piping as you enter the generator room. You chew your bottom lip, using all of your brain power to remember the engineering skills you have. After your third scan, you remember that the main fuel line is small, yet vital, and Mando won’t notice that it’s been compromised until he powers up the engines. You bring your elbow down hard against a pipe and it budges slightly. You realize you’ll need more leverage, so you look above your head and grab hold of thicker, more stable pipes. You pull yourself up, and bring your foot down hard against the pipe with a clank. After repeating that a few times, it finally breaks. Fuel begins leaking out all over the floor from the broken pipe and you smile at your successful attempt at a sabotage. You depart from the generator room and down to the hull; you take a peek outside pleased to see Mando is still barking orders at the pit droids. Now, all that’s left to do is sit back, and wait for your plan to come to fruition. Mando stomps back up the ramp, clearly frustrated (he has no patience for droids), and tosses a sachet of credits in your lap once he’s across from you in the hull.

“I need you to go into town and buy some more supplies,” he directs before immediately turning away towards the ladder.

“Hold on,” you say, stopping him in his tracks; your objection causes him to turn around in your direction. “Since when am I your bitch? I’m not here to run errands for you.”

“You want to make yourself useful, go ahead,” he says, sounding testy. “Or you can get off my ship right now and I can leave you here.”

Seriously? He’s being this uptight, for what? To prove a point? To get you out of the ship and out of his hair? That is, if he even has hair. Part of you does feel bad for him. He’s lost his son and he just wants to get him back. Maybe you shouldn’t have sabotaged the ship….Nah, he’s definitely in need of a break. This motherfucker has been walking around with a stick so far up his ass it’s now making its way up his throat. And now he has the audacity to start treating you like a servant after he’s made it clear millions of times how: “you’re a bounty hunter,” and how you should “start acting like it.” You want to scream. Or punch him. Maybe a combination of both. You just want it out of your system.

“Fuck you, Mando. Go find someone’s dick, and choke on it,” you spat, your tone furious and bitter. It was the most you could muster and the best words you could find. You turn around and storm off down the ramp and past the stumbling pit droids. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the compromised fuel line while you’re gone, but at this point you don’t care. You need to get away from that nerf-herder right now; if you were to spend one more minute with him, his head might end up rolling out of the ship.

…

You wander the streets of this small village for far too long. Partially to blow off some steam, and partially to waste time. You wanted to bother him and get under his skin, and taking your time right now would accomplish just that. You check every vendor you pass for the necessary items you were tasked with acquiring, pondering their purchase with a meticulous eye. You wandered into expensive boutiques and browsed their inventories, you stared at shop windows and asked for prices that you wouldn’t need because you weren’t going to buy anything. But you knew you’d have to go back soon, or else Mando might actually leave without you. So you made your final purchases and walked back to the Crest where a certain bounty hunter was probably waiting impatiently for your return. You hope he’s angry and upset that you took this long; you want to get back to him seething in anger and ready to strike something with his fists. Perhaps you’re being a little bit petty, you don’t really want to upset someone like him. But Maker is it fun. Reminds you that you at least have a semblance of power over him when it feels like he’s in control of almost every aspect of this mission. You just want to be able to have this one thing over him, then you’ll be fine once you get to Sriluur to obtain his kid. You have no problems taking orders from him, but when he begins to act all high and mighty over you and pretends that your input isn’t valuable, you take a bit of an issue with that.

As you approach the fuel port, pit droids are taking out various fuel lines connected to the ship and struggling to roll them back up onto their stands. The ramp is still open, but you don’t see Bucket head anywhere in the hull yet. You walk up the ramp and into the Crest, tossing the bag of supplies on the ground by some crates. Figuring Mando is up in the cockpit, you huff in frustration then ascend the ladder and approach the cockpit’s doors. The doors whoosh open and, lo and behold, Mando is sitting in the pilot’s chair and seems to have barely cared that you entered the cockpit. He’s pressing various buttons on the control panel, obviously engrossed in whatever task he’s doing. You’re tuned into the routine by now, so you take the seat to his right and strap in.

“Next stop, Sriluur,” Mando says as he begins to power up the ship, pressing buttons and pushing a lever. The Crest powers up, then promptly powers back down and sputters. Mando’s hands lift from the control panel in a defensive “what the hell did I do?” position. He flicks a few switches, that do nothing, then glances at the screen that logs the fuel reserves.

“What? How is that possible? I just fueled up the ship,” Mando exclaims, as you hear him huff out through the modulator. He stands up from the pilots chair and exits the cockpit to go to, you can only assume, the generator room. Your suspicions are confirmed once you hear him let out a slew of curses from the other room. He stomps back into the cockpit, seething with anger underneath his helmet.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, pretending to be oblivious to the issue at hand.

“The main fuel line has been compromised,” he tells you, his helmet remaining fixed on you for a beat. “One of those droids must have messed with it.”

“Probably,” you say with a shrug. “How big of a fix will it be?”

“It’ll take a day, maybe, at most. Unless those droids are good at fixing their mistakes,” he remarks bitterly, obviously bothered by the delay. “In the mean time, I’ll find us a place to sleep for the night.” He looks you up and down. “You need a shower.”

You glare at him, as if I don’t fucking know that already dipshit.

“And you need a fucking nap,” you spat bitterly, with your arms crossed over your chest. His helmet fixates on you for a minute before he turns to leave the cockpit, his cape fluttering behind him. You try to bite back a laugh, very proud of your work.

…

You and Shiny walk towards the city of Raxulon, in search of cheap lodging for the two of you to stay in tonight while the pit droids work on the ship. He’s silent, like always, walking in front of you through a small neighborhood on the outskirts of a rural village. There are children playing in the street, kicking balls and hitting each other with sticks pretending they were vibro blades. Fruit stands were occupied by elderly vendors, trying to pawn off their slightly rotted produce to any person who was too inept to understand their poor quality. It was a quiet, quaint little village; they didn’t seem too accustomed to someone like Mando walking through the streets, heavily armored and heavily armed. Some parents shielded their children away from your beskar clad counterpart, not wanting to cause any trouble. One of the children’s balls rolls in Shiny’s direction, stopping once it collides with his ankle. The kid quits jogging after it and freezes in his tracks, clearly petrified of him. Mando bends down and lifts up the ball, tossing it back to the kid.

“Shulu chess ko bukee. Oolaee safa lesh,” he says, the helmet nodding in the kids’ direction. They smile and run away, giggling and kicking the ball in front of them. The two of you continue on your stroll to the nearest Inn, Mando hardly acknowledging the simple act of kindness he just displayed. You weren’t used to seeing that, from him especially. That’s what makes him so confusing to you; one minute he’ll blow up at the smallest inconvenience, storming off like a child, and the next he’s pulling shit like this where he’s being patient and kind towards these children he doesn’t even know. It makes you wonder what changes in him through those lapses. What is it that penetrates that beskar? There’s something he lets in there; something small enough to wriggle under his sleeve and curl up without being detected, but it’s something he wouldn’t dare cuff his undershirt to reveal what it is. Especially to you. No, definitely not you. What reason would he have to reveal to you a vulnerable part of himself? What makes you any different than all the other bounty hunters he’s come across? He only chose you because you’re of use to him. Once this all blows over and Wraak is dead and he has his kid back, it’s going to be like this never happened and you both will continue on living your lives. Shiny with his son, and you...on Nevarro alone. He’ll have his clan of two, you think that’s what Mandalorians call it, and you’ll be on that maker-forsaken planet continuing to make credits at Gundi’s for...what exactly? You’re still not sure. Truth is, you haven’t been sure in a long time and you’re too afraid to admit it. If you could, you would go back to hunting bounties, traversing the galaxy, earning your place. But that didn’t work out for you, as most things tend to. It’s been harder to find your place in all of this when you don’t really understand who you are anymore.

Mando stops in front of a modest building that reads “Inn” in Aurebesh. The windows are parted open and the curtains are fluttering in the wind. You and Shiny enter together, there’s a tired woman slouched behind a counter, her blonde hair pulled back lazily into a ponytail. She’s swiping mindlessly on her datapad, then once she notices the two of you enter, she glances up at you both and adjusts her posture to seem more welcoming.

“I need two rooms,” Mando says to her once you both reach the counter. She nods her head then begins typing into the datapad. Her lips purse in thought and her brow raises slightly.

“I’m afraid we only have one room left for tonight,” she admits, seemingly apologetic. Shiny sighs through the modulator, his shoulders falling slightly.

“That’s fine. How many beds?” he asks her. She glances down quickly at her datapad then back up at the helmet.

“This room is a single, so it only has one bed, I’m afraid.” She glances between the two of you, trying to gauge a reaction based off of your expression as opposed to Mando’s faceless helmet. You huff, resting your hands on your hips, and wait for Shiny’s response as you glare at him expectantly. At this point, you’ll sleep on the floor if it means you get to take a shower, but Mando seems like the kind who’d want his own space to occupy while he removes his armor and bathes.

“Where’s the nearest Inn?” he inquires. You can tell he’s beginning to lose his patience, but he won’t show it to the nice lady behind the counter.

“We’re the only Inn here in this village. The nearest city is Raxulon, but it’d be a day’s walk from here,” she informs the two of you. There’s no time to walk all the way to Raxulon, the ship would be done with repairs by the time you even get there. He looks to you, as if to ask for your input. “I seriously don’t give a shit, I’ll sleep on the floor. Just take it, for fuck’s sake,” you tell him impatiently, gesturing to the woman behind the counter. The helmet nods in her direction and he pulls credits from his belt, plopping them onto the counter. She sets the key onto the counter, directing the two of you to your room, and Mando snatches it up indignantly paying no mind to the directions. He stomps off down the hall, you following behind him. It almost upsets you how annoyed he is, as if he doesn’t even trust you enough for him to be in another room without his armor on while he’s bathing. You would never actively try and look at him, as that’s a complete and total invasion of his privacy. You’re not sure what exactly that equivalent would be for you, but you’d imagine it would be like if he lifted up your top to look at your tits. You didn’t consent to that, you weren’t okay with that, yet he did it and now you’re uncomfortable that he’s seen a part of yourself you didn’t want him seeing. Does he really think you’d do that to him? Does he think you’d violate him like that? If so, fuck him. You’re risking your life on this mission, considering you know exactly what Wraak is capable of, he should be grateful you even agreed to come here at all.

He stops in front of a door, unlocking it with the key, and you watch as it slides open. Mando steps inside, barely paying you any mind as you follow him in. The room was smaller than you expected, there was one tiny armchair shoved into a corner adjacent to the queen sized bed. The armchair was far too small for either of you to even consider sleeping in, but the bed looked like heaven in comparison to the hard, metal floor of the Crest that you’ve been sleeping on the past few days. He tosses his rifle onto the bed and wastes no time going to the windows and closing the blinds, so no one could see inside the room. He brushes past you and into the bathroom, locking himself inside without saying a word to you. You roll your eyes and sit on the edge of the bed, un-fastening your boots and pulling them off of your feet. You flex your toes once your boot is off, trying to regain some mobility after not having taken them out of these shoes for days on end. The sound of rushing water can be heard through the door of the fresher, and you can only assume Shiny’s finally taking a damn shower. He’s been so sour since finding the broken fuel line in the Crest, which obviously isn’t a good thing so you can’t blame him for being upset anyways. His moodiness doesn’t surprise you anymore, as he spends more time sulking than he does speaking to you. But it’s fine, it’s not like you should probably get to know the man that you’re risking your life for, or anything. No, it totally doesn’t bother you that a complete stranger has complete control over almost every aspect of this mission and will refuse to communicate basic things to you at all. It’s fine, everything’s fine. You just need to lay down and pretend he’s not even here, just for a minute. Yes, just a minute.

…

Many minutes must’ve passed since you laid your head down because the sound of the bathroom door sliding open wakes you. Shiny emerges from the bathroom, the hot steam from the fresher sticking to his beskar armor. He sure does have a knack for always waking you up, doesn’t he? You groan and roll over on your side, trying your best to ignore him, but his boots against the ground makes it too difficult to fall back asleep again. You force your heavy lids open to see Mando settling in the tiny, lumpy arm chair as if he were trying to get some rest. You roll your eyes at his stubbornness and sit up on the bed.

“For fuck’s sake, just sleep in the damn bed. I’m going to go shower anyways,” you huff, getting up off of the bed and heading towards the bathroom. You hear a sigh escape through the modulator and you can assume the rustling is him getting into the bed...fully armored? Whatever. You could care less, you just want to get clean. You palm the controls to the door, locking it behind you and sigh, finally having some time to yourself. The steam from Shiny’s shower still hangs in the air and the mirror is fogged as a result. You punch in the settings for the shower and watch as water begins rushing out of the showerhead. After stripping out of your gear, you step into the fresher, huffing in contentment when the warm water rushes over your body. You wished you could stay like this forever, free of any outside stressors like Mando, or the trauma from working for Wraak. It’s like an impenetrable bubble that you’re allowed for just a few brief moments while you clean yourself. You hope that Mando is still asleep by the time you’re done because you want to avoid stepping on his toes any further, and if you inadvertently wake him up, you might get yourself yelled at by him again for the millionth time. You’d give anything to have an actual conversation with him, but every time you speak it seems like it causes some issue with him and upsets him in some way. So you’ve resigned to just shutting up for a while, ignoring him when you can, and doing your best to not make any more jokes around him. It’s been working so far, but it feels weird. Here you are, risking your lives for each other, and you both barely speak. You just wish that you could get at least a small look into what he was thinking; how does he feel without his kid? Is the kid dead? Does he think the kid’s dead? You want to help ease his mind, but his emotions have been so volatile since you’ve met him. He would never let you close enough to even try and crack his shell open, no, you’d most definitely die trying.

You turn the water off in the fresher, wringing out your hair before stepping out with a fluffy white towel wrapped around your body. Tightening the towel around your breast, you wipe some of the steam off of the mirror with your hand. The bruise on your jaw looked pretty awful, and it was still tender to the touch. It looked nasty, how has Shiny not said anything about it? You shake your head and begin putting your clothes back on, your hair twisted up into a towel atop your head. Once dressed, you try and tackle your hair...but there’s no comb anywhere in this bathroom. You curse to yourself as you try and comb through your hair with just your fingers, but you give up soon and just pull it back lazily into a braid; not really caring to try anything more complicated. Maker, all you want right now is to climb into bed and fall asleep, but Mando is probably asleep and it would be, well, weird to just climb right in next to him as if you two were a domestic couple. But that chair definitely seems worse to sleep in than the floor of the Crest, and why would you subject yourself to that torture? You’ve been bouncing back and forth, toying with the notion, but mostly wondering if he would be upset with you for doing it. Do...Mandalorians not like sharing beds? Is that a thing? Whatever, he can yell at you after you both get some rest. You palm the controls to the door and it slides open with a whoosh, as far as you can tell, Shiny doesn’t budge. He’s laying on his back fully armored without a blanket or anything, like a lunatic, sleeping soundly. You tiptoe, as best as you can, around to the left side of the bed and slide in next to him with your back facing Shiny, not even bothering to try and pull the covers over you in fear of disturbing him. You can’t even hear him breathing, the only indication of his presence being the slight dip in his side of the bed from his weight. You’re becoming paranoid now that you’ll nudge him accidentally in your sleep and startle him awake, causing him to unleash a slew of annoyed remarks. The anxiety kept you up for longer than you’d like to admit, which is irritating considering you’re finally able to sleep in a bed but you can’t because a walking, talking harbinger of death is sleeping next to you. You’re not sure how, but you managed to lull yourself to sleep through the impending doom of Mando’s wrath.

…

A scream rang through the small room, jerking you awake with a startled flinch. You still remained facing the wall, not Shiny, thankfully. There was movement on the other side of the bed as you felt Mando move. Your eyes remained fixed on the wall, trying to gauge how he was feeling about you sleeping next to him, if he had even noticed. But he was silent. It worried you, so you rolled over and sat up in the bed to see Mando’s feet slung over the side of the bed as his eyes remain fixed on the floor. He must’ve been the one whose scream woke you up. What should you say? It’s not like he’ll tell you what’s wrong if you ask him. Still not sure if he’s noticed you’re awake now, you wait a few moments to see if he’ll do anything else. But he remains fixed on the floor, his shoulders rising and falling as, you assume, he’s trying to catch his breath again.

“Are you alright?” you finally inquire, your voice slightly hoarse from your sleep. He doesn’t say anything, hardly acknowledges you’ve even broken the silence. You feel like you’re walking on eggshells, trying not to blow his fuse by overstepping any of his million boundaries. He seems stuck, like he’s spiraling out of control silently. You lift your hand and hesitantly bring it to his shoulder, right above his pauldron. You gingerly place your hand there and wait for him to react, when he doesn’t, you gently move your thumb over the fabric of his undershirt so lightly you were sure he couldn’t even notice.

“Your kid will be fine. You have my word,” you assure him gently. While you weren’t sure what exactly Wraak wanted with his kid, you’re secure in knowing that Wraak will explore all of his options before killing a child in cold blood. From Shiny’s stress, you can assume that this kid isn’t just your average child, he must be of some value to Wraak or else he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to have taken him. Mando’s helmet cranes behind him to get a better look at you and he locks on you for a moment. You offer him a sympathetic closed-mouth grin, feeling more comfortable than you’d thought you’d be with his helmet fixed on you for so long. You pull your hand away and settle back on your side, facing the wall so you don’t have to remember that the Mandalorian is sleeping next to you. But it doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it did before when you wake up the next morning with your arm draped over his chest and your cheek nestled into his arm.

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havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong · 4 years ago

Text

The Slimmest Chance — Run to the Light

An ally in the endless flame of Fuyuki — the lone survivors of the failed Rayshift, Cadence finally stumbled across an ally.

—

‘So, why me?’

A young Master sits just across from a genius.

The woman twirls a lock of her brunette hair, contemplating for only a passing moment before responding.

‘That’s simple. Your mana.’

...His mana. The coward knew his only talent — the only reason he’d be valued as a mage. An endless reservoir of mana, unable to cast anything save for the endless flow of mana his body forced out.

‘...Doesn’t Chaldea have more than enough of that to go around?’

But such a thing would be worthless for summoning. Even if he could summon a Servant with his own power alone — he could likely only use one. And would Chaldea even permit such a contract, when the consequences of letting an average Joe summon a Servant could be so large..?

‘That’s true enough. But, y’know, you were an oddity. I don’t think we’ve seen someone so specialized in such an odd task.’

The lady winked, as if he had some invaluable talent. All the coward could do was chuckle, and shake his head.

‘Yet I can’t cast a single spell. Not without a Mystic Code — even then, my only Mystic Codes are borderline worthless, Da Vinci.’

...Yet the genius didn’t even falter, even for a moment, at the cowardly Master’s words. She only shrugged and continued.

‘You never know, Cadence. Chaldea might fail at summoning, you know. And if that happens... Any Servant is better than no Servant. Let alone one held by a Master like you.’

...The coward breathed a shaky sigh out.

‘...I’m not cut out for this. I... I don’t want to fight like this.’

‘And yet you’re here now, Cadence, and I highly doubt they’ll be keen on letting you out. And chances are, you’ll probably be safe anyways, being in the reserves like this.’

The genius idly tapped her finger against the table between them, and tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the side.

‘Try not to worry, okay?’

—

‘So much for not worrying.’

It had to have been an hour by this point. Maybe more..?

Clear, non-teary eyes, and a calmer perspective, let me survey the area a bit better.

Burning, destroyed buildings, with rivets of wood and metal lining the ground. That smell of burning corpse hadn’t faded at all — if anything, it grew more prominent with every step I took further into the center of this city.

The fires of Fuyuki... That’s what this was, wasn’t it? They’d said something of this Singularity before the fated Rayshift. No matter what the place looked like — felt like — now, it was supposed to be a simple fire.

‘...A ‘simple’ fire.’

Compared to what I saw now, the original happenings were far simpler, huh?

Bones fell to the ground to my left, just as I turned to survey what I could see there — finding only the vast expanse of flame, and the remnants of a lone swordbearing skeleton that Kagekiyo made short work of.

“...These can’t be true Genji, Master.”

The being turned to me with a furrowed brow, dusting a bit of what seemed to be bone fragments off their shoulder, all as I forced myself to a stop.

“They go down too quickly. Their strategy is laughable. How do we know that we’re fighting the true danger here?”

...The ‘Genji.’ A term that still eluded me, in part. I could assume it to be in relation to the Minamoto clan, but...

...Now wasn’t the time to ask. I breathed out a sigh — carefully, as to not choke on the smoke — and began to form some sort of response.

“They don’t seem like the part. Frankly, who actually did this to us still eludes me.”

...The being sheathed their blades, and crossed their arms, matching my pace to walk beside me as I began to move towards the center once more.

“...How bothersome. The Genji have stooped so low as to send such weak warriors after us. Do they underestimate me as a warrior?!”

They lowered their hand to their blade, and seemed to grit their teeth. While making a sidestep just in case, my mouth opened before I could think.

“It’s probable that the Genji might have a role in this, if I’m understanding things right. And my guess is that they don’t know you’re here yet!”

‘...Damn me and my motor mouth.’

All that did was make Kagekiyo seemingly more angered — now, tapping their fingers quickly against the hilt of their blade, as if feebly attempting to hold back an ever-increasing rage.

“They don’t know?! Then we have to make sure they do! Fill the hearts of the Genji with fear as I slaughter their men!”

‘That has to be the worst possible plan. Making ourselves known would just make the perpetrator kill us now!’

My stomach had already tied itself in knots — a horrid feeling of nausea coming up, only suppressed by a rapid change of focus.

‘...If she’s keen on making herself public enemy number one, I probably can’t fight that. She’s an Avenger — I doubt she’d go for any other option.’

Panic wouldn’t help me — it’d only make our deaths more assured. Even as anxiety welled in my throat, I desperately moved forward, upping my pace to let out the excess energy.

“Master?”

The Avenger followed suit — even with the mask, I could’ve sworn I saw their eyebrow raise.

“...If we want to make ourselves known to the Genji, we can do it. But we can’t do it too bluntly, or else they’ll just kill me.”

...Kagekiyo gritted their teeth, but nodded in agreement anyways. Certainly, it would get things over with quickly — but we both knew that I was the weak link. There was no getting past that.

“...It’s only a matter of time before they realize their mooks are going down. Then, they’ll send their big guys after us. That’s when we strike.”

Our backs were against the wall. Even with no flame behind me, I knew each fight was my ‘last stand’ at survival, and it was the same for Kagekiyo by proxy.

Judging by their hand releasing itself from their blade, they knew that just as well as I did.

“...Understood. We let them come to us, and slaughter them.”

“Something like that.”

...Somehow, I’d felt my anxiety lessen — not strangling me, as much as simply tightly gripping me now. It seemed they weren’t unreasonable — not completely.

If only it stayed that way.

Mere moments after our plan was cemented, the scenery finally changed — we’d reached the center, or the closest thing to it. A place surrounded by burning, but still standing, buildings.

And in the middle of what might’ve been an intersection — a woman with a shield larger than herself, shielding a white-haired lady and an orange-haired woman from the strikes of a Servant shrouded in darkness.

‘...Should’ve knocked on wood.’

Something twisted in my gut — instinctively, I covered my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment as I heard Kagekiyo’s blades unsheathe.

“...Master?”

I swallowed what must’ve been bile — it felt like it, even if nothing was there. Taking a step back, desperately trying to steady my breaths, I managed a nod.

“Looks like that being... That’s our first target, Kagekiyo. Protect the three people defending against them.”

“...Understood.”

I knew full well I could not fight — only remaining nearby. Yet, I raised my hand, staring down at a Mystic Code I had on my right hand.

A silver ring, with an emerald gem on its front. The emblem of a lion set on the inside of it. Even with the blood of the summoning circle on it, its beauty remained.

‘...Ironic.’

Despite it all, I held that hand close, as Kagekiyo engaged — dodging a shadowy chained dagger that threatened to strike her arm.

The shadowy figure changed its opponent — from the lady with the shield to Kagekiyo. It approached, retaliating immediately after its first hit was evaded, with two chained daggers thrown as if to entangle Kagekiyo.

Even so — the being simply sidestepped the first chain, raising her foot to avoid entanglement, before jumping suddenly into the air to avoid the second chain.

Retaliation was quick, simple — both blades appearing to make their mark as the Avenger shot back down to terra firma behind the Servant. And yet—

“Kagekiyo!”

The Servant was prepared for such a move. Another chain flung behind them — even at such close ranges, the Avenger could at least move their chest out of the way, the dagger instead landing in their arm.

The Avenger only grinned, and allowed the second shot to pass right through the armour on their chest—

“Kagekiyo?!”

...Even as the dagger surely pierced their heart—

...No, it had surely hit its mark. The dagger, clean through Kagekiyo’s chest armour, was right where the being’s heart should’ve been.

But it did little more than make the being smile, as they snugly fit their katana directly through the throat of the Servant.

“...Eliminated.”

The lady with the shield remained, attempting to protect from a potential attack from the enemy Servant.

As the shadowed Servant faded away, I found myself running forward as if by reflex — sliding to a stop before my teammate, I looked them over in a panic.

...Nothing. Even raising the fabric hiding their chest armour, even despite the crack —

Not a hint of the wound remained.

“...Do you underestimate me, Master? If I died so easily, the Genji would have no reason to fear.”

‘...How..?’

But even after a moment — it made sense.

Kagekiyo was no person, were they? A ‘concept,’ a being that attempted to kill Yoritomo over thirty times. Not even death stopped them — they would come back every time.

...Even part of their legend — was that they were never truly gone. So long as hatred for the Genji remained, Kagekiyo would never die.

‘...I don’t assume they’re invulnerable — but...’

Off a hunch, it could’ve been the ceaseless anger of an Avenger itself that allowed their survival through a hit that could’ve put an end to their carnage.

“...Go figure.”

...After a moment, I heard the shield drop behind me.

“—Aren’t you..?”

A soft, kind voice. One followed shortly by a sharp, laidback voice of a Master I knew all too well.

“Cadence?! Goddamn, is it nice to see a familiar face around here.”

“...Ritsuka..?!”

Go figure. The person whose talent was that of physical alteration. I’d only ever seen them with the black hair and male form — no wonder their other visage wasn’t recognizable.

“Hey! Nice to know we’ve got an ally in all this. Me, Olga, and Mash were able to get in. How’d you get in here?”

Go figure. Someone like Ritsuka was exactly the sort to simply waltz on in to a place like this. They seemed at home in the danger — surely scared, but compartmentalizing it as if it were nothing.

“I can hardly remember in all the chaos. Hopefully a bit of company can help me remember.”

‘...If only I could take this that well.’

I had to shake the half-bitter thoughts from my mind. Disregarding those whispers of envy, I tried my best to keep myself upright — as my stomach took its sweet, sweet time unknotting itself.

“No kidding. We can bring you to the leyline to let Romani know we have another survivor, but we’ll have to be quick about it. And...”

The Master was very quickly interrupted, however, by the white-haired woman.

“—Why on God’s green Earth do you have a Servant with you?! You don’t have a link to Chaldea, do you? How can we trust him?!”

...Olga Marie. Only one voice was that rude, that moody. Yet, somehow, music to the ears compared to the rattling of bones.

I stuffed my left hand into my pocket, and raised my right hand — the summoning circle I hastily made no longer bleeding, only the cut-out circle remaining.

“Probably similarly to you guys. I tried summoning a Servant out of sheer panic, and...”

Kagekiyo stepped forward, cleaning their blades of what might’ve been blood before sheathing them in tandem.

“He drew upon the power of myself. I am Avenger.”

“—We’re his allies! Shouldn’t you reveal your True Name?!”

Almost immediately, Olga’s gaze changed to the blindfolded warrior, moving her terrified fury to them instead of me. While Kagekiyo gritted their teeth, I forced myself to interject before things got any worse.

“Avenger, we should probably do so once we reach a safe place. We won’t gain anything from revealing your True Name here, save perhaps giving the enemy the advantage. And, Olga...”

Her tone was intimidating. Terrifying. But it wasn’t drenched in poison — it was drenched in fear. Just like myself.

I could restrain my anxiety, a little longer.

“...It’s not a great idea to push an Avenger into doing something they don’t want to.”

...Olga retracted after a moment, furrowing her brow and balling her hands up; dropping the subject and turning to Ritsuka.

“Just... Just take them to the leyline with us! And if they try anything funny, Mash—“

“Yes, I know.”

...The shielder — Mash. A lady I rarely ever saw, but a kind lady from what I knew. How had she become a Servant..?

...Surely the answers would come later. Ritsuka, not wasting time, immediately started setting off in what seemed like an arbitrary direction.

‘...Then again, even if we had a map, any direction would still feel arbitrary.’

As Olga hastily followed, being sure to keep Mash and her shield between her and Kagekiyo, I followed suit in the back — the Avenger keeping pace with me.

“...And why must we stay in the back?”

“They don’t believe we’re allies yet. This is a new world, and for all they know, we could be the suspects.”

...Paranoia, ceaseless fear — I felt as if I could understand that. Seeing enemies where there only lay friends, harassers and thieves in the safest of places...

...It was no small wonder, in a hellhole like this, that Olga would find herself falling to such a fear.

“...Will they help us destroy the Genji?”

“Easily. If we want to win, we’ll need all the allies we can get. People don’t fear anything as much as a coordinated team.”

...The being nodded in approval — lacking the reluctance I’d seen earlier.

‘...In truth, it was all luck, wasn’t it?’

It was obvious — Ritsuka was the true leader. A smiling hero. Like a lead actor making themselves known in the very first scene.

...It was all luck, surely, to have re-found the few survivors, and to have formed a small team. To have found a leader so calm in the face of imminent death.

But surely, with this — our chances of survival grew stronger still.

#fgo #gudasona #mastersona #l o r e #cadenceloreposting #he finds the team at last?? cadence not alone

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

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Allison’s Character Bio

Summary: Here is Allison's character bio for anyone who's interested!

Word Count: 1340

Read on AO3:

Name: Allison (Amehan) Sumaya

Nickname: Allie (by Renata and Willy)

Age: 4 (Season 1) / 6 (Season 2) / 8 (Season 3) / 12 (TFS) – arrives at Ericson age 16

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 5’6”

Weight: 52.16 kg (115 lbs)

Hair color: black

Hair length: down to the middle of her back if it was down

Typical hairstyle: ponytail with loose strands in front of each ear

Eye color: Brown

Noticeable Features: burn marks scattered across her body (a punishment from the Delta)

Typical Clothing: mauve hoodie on top of a grungy white tee, worn out jeans, sneakers

Preferred Weapon: a combo spear/hammer she and Willy made together.

Backstory: Amehan was four when the apocalypse happened. Her family was vacationing in America and visiting some of their relatives in New York when disaster struck. Amehan’s memories of that time were hazy being so young, but she remembered always being told to keep quiet and always moving. Her family survived by relying on members of the Filipino community in New York, but that could only accomplish so much. A year and a half into the apocalypse, both of Amehan’s brothers were killed when there was a breach in their small community’s walls, leading walkers directly into a playground where most of the community’s children were at play. Only 3 of the 15 children survived. Amehan was one of them.

After the loss of both of her sons, Amehan’s mother grew heartsick and depressed. She did not sleep or eat much at all and was unwilling to be near Amehan, leading the six-year-old to spend a great deal of time alone. Several months later during an evacuation, Amehan and her mother were cornered with a few other women within an alleyway by the very walkers they were trying to flee. Amehan’s mother told her to run and Amehan did. Those were the last words she ever heard from her.

Over the course of the next two years Amehan focused on becoming as useful as she possibly could be to her father and their community. Her father, scarred by the loss of the rest of their family, interacted with Amehan on a purely practical level. When he and Amehan were not out hunting, scouting or training, he was running English drills with her, training her to be as proficient and skilled as she could be should the day come that he was no longer there.

That day came all too soon. One night, the community came under attack from a militia group at their walls. While the adults barricaded the front gates and fought to protect their home, members of the militia circled round and took their real targets: the children. At eight years old, Amehan became one of the first child soldiers “recruited” by the Delta. She was sent down the river and given the name Allison since her commanding officer didn’t care to learn her “foreign” name. She never learned what became of her father that night.

Delta life was brutal. Every day was regimented, every moment watched. Each time a recruit disobeyed or messed up one too many times, the child was dragged off and a red-hot poker pressed to their side, leaving a mark to remind them that their actions had consequences. Allison knew how to be silent and how to follow orders. Still, over the years the number of marks upon her sides grew. There was never an end to punishment, it was only a question of who received it. There always needed to be someone to make an example of.

Life held little happiness for Allison. The only joy within it was the small stolen moments between her fellow recruits. Whispered conversations after curfew, quick jokes when none of the adults were round to hear them and promises made that someday they would all break free. None of those promises ever came true. Deserters were maimed or killed; dissenters transferred. Nothing stayed the same. Except for Bridget.

Bridget was a special case, the daughter of one of the soldiers in Allison’s unit. When Bridget talked back she was smacked instead of burned, a meal taken away rather than a finger. Bridget realized her power, and she used it as best she could, taking the blame whenever possible to shield the others. Sometimes it worked (Bridget was enough of a troublemaker on her own to make her claims believable), sometimes it didn’t. But Bridget never stopped trying.

Allison admired the girl, who was two years her senior, and stuck by her most of all. She tried to behave in part to avoid transfer, some deep part of her fearing that she would lose all hope if she couldn’t see Bridget. As she grew older, Allison recognized her feelings for what they were: love. She never disclosed them to Bridget though. Love had no place in the Delta. Perhaps someday when things were different, when the Delta was done fighting, their empire secure, she could tell Bridget how she felt.

She never got that chance. Bridget died on a raid, one she’d been conscripted to at only 14 due to the thinness of Delta’s ranks. Their unit was desperate for new recruits and took a risk to gain them. It backfired terribly. Allison felt her heart go numb at the news. From that day on she lived as a machine, eating, sleeping and fighting for no reason other than the commands given to her. She fought for nothing: not the Delta, not survival and certainly not for herself.

A few months later with Allison’s unit still unable to gain new recruits, it was absorbed into another unit. There Allison met Renata, a Hispanic girl who had recently been transferred there herself. Allison didn’t care about anything when she met Renata, but for some reason Renata cared for her. The older girl took Allison under her proverbial wing as a sort of adoptive sister, talking with her, checking on her and covering for her whenever there was trouble. In some ways she reminded Allison of Bridget: the way she never gave up and looked out for others even though the consequences she faced were so dire. Against her better judgement, Allison found herself caring for another being once more: a friend whose sunshine never seemed deterred by her gloom.

The girls had known each other for about four months when news reached their unit of a Delta squad that had been completely destroyed, their boat torched and abandoned without a trace of their enemy. A tremor was felt throughout the entire Delta and the recruits felt the adults’ fear. Delta wasn’t invincible after all. That night, Renata confided in Allison what she’d been working toward since her transfer here: a way to escape. They had to do it tonight, before replacements were sent for the adults deployed downriver to provide backup to the southern units if needed. With nothing to lose, Allison agreed. In the dead of night, they targeted the weakest security point, slit the guards’ throats, and disappeared into the night.

They were free. After years of guarding her every word and action, Allison had no clue what to do. Neither girl had any living family that they knew of left. But Renata had a plan. Somewhere in West Virginia there was a school where they would be accepted. All they had to do was find it.

Facts about Allison:

Allison enjoys collecting stones. As she puts it, they’re pretty to look at and an instant weapon if needed.

One of Allison’s earliest memories is her cat Bunso who she left in the Philippines. To this day she sometimes wonders if he’s alright.

Allison always thought it would be fun to dye the tips of her hair another color but never got the chance.

Allison’s favorite game is Slapjack since the rules are simple and she enjoys the opportunity to slap others in the heat of competition.

Allison’s favorite flowers are daffodils since they remind her of her brightest loved ones: Bridget, Renata and Willy.

#twdg #twdg allison

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jeremy-ken-anderson · 4 years ago

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Design Theory: FFXV

For a class I’m taking, I’ve been asked to perform a thought experiment. At first I did this with XIV, but once we got into the “make improvements” section I decided I’d have an easier and also more satisfying time pondering a game that isn’t quite so critically acclaimed.

And I decided I’d rather blog it out than write it on notepad paper.

So. FFXV. One Final Fantasy With the Lads.

The MDA Framework - Mechanics, Dynamics, Affect (Aesthetics is the original A here, but for a game dev class we’re broadening it to include more things that evoke emotional responses) - translates into Mechanics being the rules, Dynamics being the play experience itself, and hopefully the play experience then produces an Affect of “fun.”

An example I’ve touched on before, where Mechanics produce Affect by way of Dynamics: In FFXV they have a very clean sense of being Injured. If you get down to 0 hp, your recoverable hp starts bleeding out. Get first aid or a potion and you stop bleeding out and recover some. But your “current max hp” remains lower than your true max hp. If you’re down to 1 hp and not injured and you get out of combat, you’ll be back at full hp in 10 or 20 seconds. If your “current max hp” gets down to half, you’re in a bad spot and it’ll take multiple minutes (current max hp recovers by 1 every 3-4 seconds, orders of magnitude slower than your normal health regen outside of battle). This mechanic produces a dynamic where during gameplay the player is heavily pressured to fight only when strong and run when weak. After all, you only die if current max hp hits 0, and getting to the state where you’re bleeding out is the full length of your health bar if you’re uninjured but could be much lower if you’ve already just barely survived a few fights. Emotionally this makes situations where you really can feel how much smaller the four of you are than the enemy army, especially when you get in a nasty cycle of them dropping more enemies on you just as you’re finishing up the prior fight. It ramps up tension, and makes you seek out safe havens and places the army can’t reach.

The storytelling angle on the MDA Framework sees the Designer’s Story as the Mechanics, the Storytelling (or play experience) as Dynamics, and the Player’s Story (aka the stories they tell themselves about how the game session went) as Affect. This is where FFXV loses a lot of people. It’s broadly panned by critics for how the Designer’s Story snaps from a freeform open-world game to being 100% on rails until shortly before the final boss, at which point it attempts to sell you on its open world again.

From a gameplay perspective, I don’t think XV gains much from its open world. There are a few counterexamples - the experience I had of encountering an Iron Giant at night, just kind of driving around the middle of nowhere is a good emergent gameplay moment - but I think similar experiences could be replicated in instanced content and meanwhile a lot of bland tromping across open plains could be removed.

Meanwhile because it’s so firmly about brotherhood and the fraternal bond between four young men, a lot of the moments that resonate most strongly with its themes are scripted to match appropriate story beats.

Ironically I think the better way to improve FFXV would be to strengthen its rails, not to take it off the rails. FFX was extremely on rails! Until basically the final boss, there wasn’t any way of going back to prior zones at all! The rails, clearly, weren’t the problem. I think a lot of the problem was in the expectation of freedom owing to the first portion of the story being so wide-open and choice-oriented. Because of the existing themes of Noctis entering adulthood, I like the idea of the nature of his options changing somehow. Maybe add in factions he can befriend in the political landscape, each with a specific flair and style. This gives the adult message of his actions now having consequences on people outside his immediate social circle, but also continues to expand options for self-expression. The idea that options for self-expression being constrained is part of the fundamental nature of adulthood is...perhaps one with cultural resonance for a lot of Japanese people, but a lot of people - Japanese people included - just plain hate it as an idea. So I’d make sure whatever options were present early in the game, there might not be the same kinds of choices but there would be just as many that felt meaningful. Perhaps the early game includes exploration and poking aimlessly at sidequests, but once the physical location gets on rails you get into a Mass Effect style of branching narrative tree instead, or that’s when the characters suddenly get access to a job system that lets you customize your play style itself like crazy.

As you can see, there are a lot of ways to do it and they can come at the problem from fundamentally different angles. I think the truth of XV is that the design problem was financial; They’d have made the whole game this freeform romp through the countryside if they’d had the scratch, but they ran out of money so they had to focus on getting the story told. Some of the lazier late-game assets (detailed in various reviews, such as this one from Super Eyepatch Wolf) indicate the same. I expect if I got into that situation I’d take the same approach. To my eye it beats the Lord of the Rings Cartoon approach, where they did production front-to-back and therefore released a movie that’s a really cool first 2/3 of a movie and then it literally just stops without the last 1/3 happening. I think I also prefer it to kicking the can down the road and trying to call it “Part 1 of 2,” because the odds of a satisfying Part 2 getting made are never good in that kind of situation. Once they were in that pickle, they did the best with what they had.

But if I could catch things just a little bit pre-pickle, those are the changes I’d make: I’d take the focus off of the open world - particularly I’d remove most of the real-time travel in favor of environments I could pack more densely with interactions. From a production standpoint I think I’d use a hex map “quadrant design” system, where design teams would make individual hexes of content for a world map and then we’d design the world map to fit the number of encounters we were able to get done, rather than making a world map and hoping we could fill it up with stuff. I’d ABSOLUTELY avoid constraining the player agency, especially in association with Noctis’ journey to adulthood. That just...seems to imply a really shitty theme, and I’m not here for it. To combat this directly, I’d probably add in another cool system associated somehow with adulthood in the second half of the game. There’d be a direct statement from the game that you might lose some choice about some things but you have SO MUCH more choice about others!

So yeah. Those are the Mechanics I’d add to FFXV and how I think they’d change Affect by way of the Dynamics of play.

#design #ffxv #review #class

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thewalkingdead-imagines · 5 years ago

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TWD - Negan Imagine ~ “Morning Star”

Imagine about the the 11th episode of season 10.

Summary: While the Reader prepares along with the rest of Hilltop for the upcoming battle, Negan has no idea that his wife is actually inside the community Alpha plans to destroy.

Bright sunbeams shone down on you as the carriage beneath you jerked a little, shaken by the potholes in the old roads that winded through the forest that lead you closer to Hilltop. You hadn’t even thought that you would be able to join the others at first, not with the staff shortage you currently had in the infirmary anyway, but things had turned out in your favor. The last three victims of Dante’s water contamination were doing pretty well again but the whole act had other consequences than just sick patients. Dante’d done a pretty good job on using, even wasting, the majority of Alexandria’s most important meds, had made sure that not much was left after and especially with the Whisperers sitting in your necks, it was more important than ever to stock up again. So that was your job now, getting new meds, judging which ones you needed and which ones you could pass on, and if things worked out, maybe recruit someone from Hilltop to come back with you to the infirmary to have another pair of helping hands. And you were glad about that, you needed to get out of the infirmary and Alexandria in general for some time. In the mostly empty infirmary you had too much time to let your thoughts get the best of you and whirl up new worries about Negan. They wouldn’t be gone now, for sure not, but being distracted in an environment you weren’t as used to as Alexandria was hopefully a good thing. Sighing you leaned back into the small pillow that was protecting your back from pressing directly into the rough wooden backrest and glanced around, watching as the green trees passed by. It was beautiful outside and part of you hoped that it could lift your mood a little. You were close to spiraling deeper into that dark hole with all those worries about your husband, the grief about Siddiq, the frustration about this whole Dante thing pooling within you and mixing with the shock of last night, you knew that, and you didn’t want to hit it’s bottom nor dive just a tiny bit deeper into it. So instead of dwelling more on your thoughts you tried to catch some of the conversation that was going on in the front of the wagon, still circling around the cave like it had a couple moments ago. “It was...”,you could hear Aaron say in his front seat as he leaned back to glimpse at Rosita,”It was Carol. There was some dynamite in the cave, we agreed on not risking it...she took it anyway.” He scoffed slightly, clearly frustrated while you could only think back at what had happened in the night you’d met Alpha at the border and her shot that would have almost resulted the war to break out earlier. She was troubled after Henry’s death, you got that and you didn’t even want to imagine what it was like to lose a child. Hell, you would do anything to get the head of the bitch that took it as well and you wouldn’t judge her on this but anger and grief were a dangerous mix, and it was putting people she cared about in danger, and that’s where shit like that had to be stopped. “We should look forward now though. That’s what’s important”, you heard Aaron quickly add, as if he was trying to not make the mess bigger than it already was before you glanced away from the conversation again and glimpsed back at the green forest around you, hoping that Hilltop wouldn’t be all to far away anymore. About a half day had passed since Beta had come back from his unsuccessful mission to bring the little spy back and in all honesty, in these kinda terms things couldn’t have worked better for Negan. The boss lady was definitely pissed at the weirdo giant for failing his mission which only let Negan rise in the skin freak ranks and just knowing that Gamma was in one of the communities was a whole different kind of jackpot. She’d spill all the secrets for sure, and with that, Beta’s failure wasn’t only a direct advantage to him but hell, also an indirect one to everyone at home. He was a little calmer than last night as well, after eavesdropping on the skin freaks that had accompanied Beta for some of the way and who’d grumbled about the deaths inside the walls. Some poor fuckers had to let their lives that night, he knew that but from everything he had heard and from trying to use the method of elimination, he was sure that Beta hadn’t gotten his hands on his girl. He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, hell, he didn’t even know if she’d actually been in Alexandria that night, but he kept on telling himself that she was fine, that she had known what to do that night. He kept on telling himself that she was okay. And while these were the advantages of Beta’s failure, Negan’s rise in the ranks got him to do a damn task the big ass freak probably usually did, and that was everything else than what Negan was in the mood for now. It was whipping Alpha’s arms with some thin branch for fuck knows which reason, maybe some fucking fetish, maybe because she thought that shit would get her stronger, he didn’t fucking know, all he knew as that he was growing tired of this crap. First that fucking kiss, now this shit. "Does this mean I've graduated to the next level of kinky Whisperer shit?”, he chuckled as he reached towards the branch with furrowed brows, trying to overplay how fucking ridiculous and absurd he actually found this whole situation. “You joke to hide your fear”, she said cooly, eying him for a moment while he let out a small sigh, pushing himself on his feet while she remained seated on one of the rocks that surrounded them. Well, she was sure partly right there, just didn’t he hide his fear, he tried to hide how weirded out he was right now. “You know, seems to me you've been cut up enough”, he grumbled as he watched more scars appear on her arm as she reached it out and pulled her sleeve further up. This shit was fucked up, holy shit was this fucked up. “Begin”, she insisted, closing her eyes as if she’d await the greatest fucking gift in the next moment before Negan furrowed his brows once more at her until he finally lifted the slim branch up and rushed it against her forearm, cutting into her flesh and leaving a red mark. She smiled, she fucking smiled as she glimpsed at her arm before she pushed it forwards again. “Again”, she mumbled, and so he did, not trying to argue anymore. Fuck, if she wanted this, she was gonna get it. The second lash left a brighter red mark on her arm than the first, leaving her looking even more satisfied than before as she stood up from the spot and abruptly took the branch out of his hand, just to nod towards him. “Now you.” Oh what the fuck. What was this crap gonna turn into now? “Ah, does this mean we're bonded for life?”, he joked, trying to somehow process whatever the fuck was actually going on here. “Depends”, she said just as ice-cold as ever, while he slowly began to push the sleeve of his leather jacket up, just trying to get it over with as she rushed the branch in the very next moment against his arm “Aah”, he let out, half in pain, half in a chuckle while a wide grin painted on his face, his body’s odd way to cope with this bullshittery just as another whip rushed against his arm and elicited another flinch and chuckle to mix with one another. Well, at least that crap was done now. “Well done”, she said with a nod, tossing the branch away before she reached to the back pocket of her pants where she usually kept her mask, only with the difference now that she pulled a different one out and held it towards him. “You will need it tonight”, she added as soon as she caught his furrowing brows and the confused look on his face. Hell, was that his reward now for this whipping session? Getting to wear a dead dude’s face? ”For what?”, he asked, glancing down at her while the eerie smile from before started to grow on her lips again. ”Tonight, the enemy will die.”

The sun was already starting to near the skyline of the trees as you finally rolled through Hilltop’s gates and could hop from your crammed position on the wagon onto the ground to shake your legs a little out, glancing around the place you hadn’t visited in god knows how long. It hadn’t changed all too much, there was a whole new field of crops in front of the gates and some more stands and smaller houses in its inside but for the most part if looked pretty similar to the last time you’d walked in here. Mary hopped down the wagon beside you, a little insecure as she started to follow Aaron, before Rosita moved down as just as you grabbed the first empty box that was supposed to be filled with meds when you’d leave again and heft it down the wagon. ”I’ll go to the doc here right away and get some painkillers, want me to tell him you’ll come in later?”, she asked as she stopped beside you, nodding to the wound that was hidden underneath the boasting bandage you’d renewed earlier on your way here. ”Yeah, please. That’d be great”,you said, nodding as she was already starting to walk towards the trailer that had a big red cross painted onto it,”Thank you.” ”All good”, she responded back just as you got back to the wagon, reaching towards the medical bag that was filled with the couple bandages and salves you’d used a few from for Rosita, just as the sound of a familiar motorcycle sounded through the air. A little irritated you glanced up, just in the very moment you caught it rushing past the wagons through the gates, carrying Daryl and Lydia on the back and slowing immediately down before it came to a complete stop in the middle of the road that let to the mansion. For a moment you let the bag go, curious, a little irritated but relieved that your half brother was back and had found Lydia, while you made your way up to them while they attracted Yumiko, Luke and a couple other people who’d been standing on the mansion’s porch to make their way over to them as well. “My mother's coming”, you heard Lydia say just in the moment you reached them, immediately stopping you as an ice-cold shudder washed over you the moment Lydia’s voice hushed. ”The herd’s on its way”,Daryl grumbled, scoffing thickly as he shock his head and glimpsed at the people in front of him while you felt like you were glued to the spot for a moment,”Far away but it’s coming.” Curses sounded through the air, mixing with people starting to ask what they were supposed to do now just before Daryl’s voice sounded again through the air, shutting them down for a moment. ”We’ll meet up in the main room, we can talk it out there.” ”Good idea, I’ll get everyone”, Luke said, quickly nodding before he turned around and quickly hurried up the stairs, and while most eyes were on him in this moment, yours were on your half-brother. He was starting to lead these people and you doubted that he realized what he was doing there nor that he’d ever thought he would. But he was, he was leading them and for a moment you were a little taken aback by how easily the others followed him. “Hey”, you heard him suddenly say as he turned around, glancing a little irritated at you as he nodded towards you while Lydia vanished behind Luke in the mansion, ”Why’re ya here too?” ”We don’t have many meds left back home. Need to get new ones, maybe get someone to help out but I guess I can forget that now”, you gulped, feeling the tension rise within you as you started to realize that probably thousands of dead assholes were on their way to this small community, and you were stuck in its middle. Still, for a moment you got distracted from that as you glanced at Daryl, first noticing how battered he looked now that he stood right in front of you. He had some makeshift bandages wrapped around his hands and his leg, the one on the latter big and partly doubted in a dark red color. ”It’s nothing”, he said before you could even say a word, though he quickly let out a thick sigh as he caught the glance in your eyes. He couldn’t bullshit you, not you. That even counted after all these years. ”Was a fight after the cave...with Alpha, got her good too”, he reluctantly said, just adding onto the tension that was cursing through you before he quickly spoke up again,”Don’t have time to get that treated.” ”We have five minutes for sure”,you mumbled, glimpsing at the stubborn man. The wounds looked bad, especially the one on his leg and you knew him more than well enough that he’d even downplay an injury if his leg was shortly before falling off. ”Will take some time till Luke and the others will get everyone in the meeting room. We could use that time window, I still got some stuff in the wagon”, you added, nodding towards the wagon you’d spent the last hours on before you caught Daryl shifting from foot to foot before he reluctantly started to nod. ”Mhmm okay.” ”Lydia made it”, Daryl grumbled as you found yourself sitting next to him the back of the wagon, cleaning the wound on his hand just to be sure even though it definitely already looked better than you expected, especially knowing that she’d done it in the middle of the muddy woods. ”Did a pretty good job, really”, you said, putting the disinfection liquid and the cloth to the side before you grabbed one of the fresh bandages in the bag,”Is she okay too?” ”Yeah, made sure”, he nodded, though he seemed to tense up for a moment as he gulped thickly, shifting uncomfortably as you reached back for his hand. ”Couldn’t find ‘em”, he mumbled, barely audible as you had to take a moment before you realized that he was talking about Connie and Magna, and judging from how he was looking right now, it was hitting him harder than he lead on, especially because it was Carol who’d caused the cave to collapse. ”I’m sure they’ll make it out. Don’t know them well but they’re survivors...and smart. they’ll find a way”, you said, trying to give him a small but genuine smile as you wrapped the bandage securely around his hand and secured it, before starting to move to his leg. ”Hope so”, he nodded, gulping thickly once more while you decided to not bore further. It was too fresh and if he’d want to tell you, he would, but right now, it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to anybody about this more than he already had. So instead of speaking you started to unwrap the bandage on his leg, carefully to not hurt him more before a sharp breath fell from your lips the moment you uncovered the wound in its entirety, cleaned but deep and probably caused by a large hunting knife that had dug itself into his thigh. ”Holy shit, Daryl that’s deep-” ”Just get a tight bandage ‘round it...please”, he cut you off, already knowing that you’d tell him what he’d really need with a wound like that before you glanced from the boasting wound to him and realized that he’d already made a decision. His stubborn head had become set on just getting the most necessary for his injury before heading inside to make a plan, you wouldn’t be able to change anything about that. ”Alright...”, you said, sighing slightly as you moved closer and started the procedure you had done on his hand all over again, starting at cleaning the wound carefully from the last bit of any mud before starting to get a bandage around his leg, with just enough pressure to make sure it wouldn’t start bleeding again and judging from its look, it already had done so more than enough. ”There you go”, you said as you finally finished the bandage watching as Daryl looked at it before he moved himself with a push from the wagon, wincing slightly as the foot of his injured leg met the ground before he looked back at you. ”Thank you”,he nodded, shifting a little to get the bandage to sit more comfortably before he nodded towards the mansion,”Now let’s get inside” Shock was still stuck in Negan’s bones as he walked through the forest, still trying to process the news of Alpha’s planned massacre at the communities as he made himself on his way to try to change this whole shitshow into something else. He couldn’t let it come so far, he couldn’t let her nor this fucking herd of dead assholes come close enough to any of the communities his wife could be located in. First and fucking foremost, he couldn’t let that happen to her but he also couldn’t let that happen to anyone she cared about, he wanted to protect her from that pain and that part counted for Judith and any other kid that was stuck in there too. He was in here to work against that whole crap, not to be part of it. Clasping that fucking stinking mask in his hand he slowly moved out of the forest onto a small clearing that was streaked with a small creak, that splashed softly against the rocks Alpha was standing on, almost looking as if she was meditating. “Got a little unsolicited advice...everyone's favorite kind, I know, but I can't help myself. And maybe I thought of an idea that you haven't yet”, he said as he moved closer, though remaining a little behind her as she didn’t even move an inch, only opened her eyes as she heard his voice. “I respect a well-deserved massacre”,he said, clearing his throat as he shifted a little from foot to foot,”Some people they just have it coming. And I get why you want to take out Hilltop and Alexandria. It would just It would feel good.” Still no reaction, so hell, he was just gonna keep going, he had to take this chance. “But you know what might feel goddamn fantastic? Getting those assholes to surrender, bend a knee”, he said, slowly growing a little impatient and nervous, though he sure did everything in his might not to let it shimmer through,”Alpha, we can get them to join us.” Inwardly, he was cursing to himself as he still saw no reaction coming from her, part of him asking himself if he should talk more and add something onto it just before he finally heard her voice sounding through the air. “Explain.” "You heard them out there. We have to go. Even if you took out half the herd in that cave, she's got thousands left. You can't stay here”, Lydia said as she paced around the main room that was filled up with each Alexandrian that had come over to the community and Hilltop’s highest members, discussing what should be done next with the dead army marching closer to you with every moment. “The skins could march straight to Alexandria for all we know”, Earl said as he shifted over his spot on the couch while Daryl stood next to you and gripped the backrest with his hands, leaning a little forward to glance at the group. "Yeah, we're right in their way”, he mumbled, his fingers squeezing the cushion as if he was trying to get rid of the tension that laid over him this way before Earl cleared his throat again. “Maybe she goes around us.” “She doesn't need to go around you. She'll just run through you”, Lydia said, the stress clearly sounding through her voice as you watched Jerry shaking his head vehemently. "I'm not running again - Hell no.” " Lydia's right. We can rebuild anywhere”, you now hear Diane chime in while you could feel yourself growing more uncomfortable the more your mind started to realize how real everything about the growing threat was. “Come on. We can't. How many scouting missions you been on, son? Hundreds? Have you ever seen a place like Hilltop?”, you could hear Earl say, and while the thought of fighting a herd more than just a couple sizes larger than the one that had once broke into Alexandria, there was something right about what he said. There weren’t many places the Hilltopers could go to, Alexandria had its capacities too and every place that might have potential in terms of buildings had fallen victim to nature. Building a place like this one up again, that would take a whole lot of time and effort, and in the current situation, no one in here had that. The only chance they had if they fled was letting the herd pass by and then rebuild of what was left of hilltop, which to you, seemed like the best possibility right now. “ No”, Aaron grumbled before you could think any further. “We have a few dozen able-bodied fighters here. Maybe. You like those odds? - 'Cause I don't”, Yumiko said, standing up from her spot on the bench as she glimpsed around the room, looking at Aaron as he shook his head again. “Neither do I.” “Now, we don't have to die here. We're going to have to fight, and if we die, we die fighting for a place that means something. Can you think of a better way to go?”, Earl nearly cut him off and that’s where you and by the look on everybody’s else's face the entirety of the room disagreed with him. You weren’t gonna die here. You came here to get some new meds and recruits for the infirmary, you weren’t gonna just let Alpha’s herd kill you when there were other ways to get out of this situation, even if this meant that Hilltop was lost. “Yeah. We go with my daughter's life intact. And Judith's and Ezra's and Adam's. You want me to keep going?”, Aaron quickly said, almost snapped, back, the tone in his voice strained and angered while for the first time in a long time, you agreed with him. You had no plans to go on a suicide mission just to play along with the others the big heroes that go down in a fight, especially not on the costs of children. There were times you just had to give in, no matter how bitter it was, and flee, if you wanted to survive, and one of these times had come now. “Alright, let's get the kids out first. Everybody, pack up. We're going to Oceanside”, Daryl said, motioning his fingers to spell Oceanside while his voice calm compared to the others,”Grab weapons, food whatever you can. We'll regroup there.” Hilltop seemed like a bustling beehive as everybody started to pack up, pushing the most important supplies and weapons into the wagons while the first one with the Lydia, Judith, RJ and a couple of other kids had left along with Daryl and Diane about a fifteen minutes ago. You were just about to pack a few light spears into the back of one of the larger wagons as you heard the voices becoming louder for a moment mixing with the sound of Daryl’s motorcycle, enough to make you back away from the wagon’s entrance to see him moving back into the community, closely followed by the wagon with the kids. “What happened?”, you heard Aarons voice call out for them, as the confusion and moreover the thought that this couldn’t mean anything good shot through you as you walked towards the small group of people that started to grow around Aaron and Daryl. “She blocked all the roads. Means they're closing in on us. If we had a window to get out, we just missed it”, he scoffed, and with these few words washed a new wave of tension over you. This was bad, this was fucking bad. “But we can't stay here”, Kelly said, her voice breaking as she tried to suppress the tears that started to pool in her eyes,”You said...you all said we can't stay here.” “We can call Alexandria, right?”, Luke asked, his voice letting it shimmer through that he was rather grasping for straws than actually believing in what he was saying ,”Call Alexandria, and they'll get fresh fighters here, right? And...And it's not just gonna be us. It's not gonna be just us, right?” “Oceanside can't get here. Alexandria, either. Not in time. Not after what happened. We're on our own”, Diane mumbled while you glimpsed at Daryl, meeting his glance for a moment that had an odd glance stuck in him, tensed as before, but there was something else about him you couldn’t quite grasp yet. "Divvy up your arsenals. We got catapults up on the walls. And a damn good militia. This is what you've all been practicing for”, Earl’s stern voice ripped you away from Daryl and lead you glance immediately to him as he stomped towards the group,” Come on, now, people! Do whatever you need to get your heads on straight! This is gonna be the fight of our lives.” This was enough to let the group sprawl out again over the place, while no one, including you, was as pumped up about this fight as Earl seemed to be. Still, there was no way past it now and you had to get through it now, no matter what. For another moment, your eyes laid on Earl before you caught Daryl moving closer to you, still with that odd look on his face as he finally rose his voice again. “The roads, that was your hus-”,Daryl started to say, stopping at the last word as if it tasted like poison in his mouth while his glance and just the beginning of this word washed an ice-cold shudder down your back ,”Negan’s with them now. He’s blocked ‘em.” “What?”, it nearly instinctively slipped out of your lips, even though one part of this whole accusation didn’t come as a giant shock or surprise to you. You’d suspected he’d infiltrated himself into their ranks to destroy them, but that last part rubbed you the wrong way,”How do you know that’s him?” “Trees blocking the road, some guy hanging strangled from a tree, remembers you of something?”, he said, a thicker frown growing over his face as he forced you to remember the hours before the bloody night in the clearing and you couldn’t even completely disagree with Daryl on this. It seemed like the same strategy, but who knew, maybe he’d done it on purpose. “But if that’s him, I’m sure he’s got a plan”,you said, gulping thickly as you looked at him, trying to choose your words right to not anger him to the extent that he’d just storm off without hearing your whole point and putting your relationship back to square one,”He’s probably just trying to earn their trust to take them down from the inside. He’s playing them.” “Nah”, he quickly shook his head,”He’s one of ‘em now.” “No, no he’s not. He might be at their camp but he’s not one of them”, you repeated yourself, while you didn’t even see anger growing over Daryl’s face but rather desperation, maybe even pity while the frustration within you grew. You didn’t want this to start this debate over Negan all over from the beginning, not again. “You’re blind”, he said, glimpsing at you through the brown strands of hair that hung into his face,”You’re so in love with him you don’t see the truth about that asshole.” “That’s not true”,you said, growing more desperate as well while you tried to grasp for straws,” Daryl, You saw the note he left for me.” “Yeah, maybe started out that way”,he grumbled, clenching his jaw as he shook his head again,”But asshole stays asshole. Think he saw that he’s free now...he switched you against freedom.” “He wouldn’t do that”, you tried to urge again while you felt dumb for repeating yourself over and over again as you just didn’t know what else to tell him to believe you on this. “He did”,he grumbled again, stepping a little closer to you as he gulped thickly,”and he doesn’t deserve how much you protect him. He’s scum.” “He’s not and I know him”,you responded quickly, feeling a shot of pain boring through you just having to hear Daryl talk like that about him before you shook your head, trying to keep your cool,”and I know how naive I sound to you. But I’ve been with that man every day for over eight years. I know how he thinks, he’s got a plan, you’ll see.” “Yeah, we’ll see”,he grumbled, while you could tell that he didn’t put one bit of belief or hope into your words as he looked at you one more time before he moved past you towards the mansion ,”Hope you won’t be too disappointed.”

Explaining to Alpha how he thought he could make them bend the knee had been one fucking tricky thing to do. It had taken a whole lot of effort for sure, talking his mouth off on how favorable it would be to have a bigger army while he smeared some more honey around her mouth and eventually, he felt like he might have persuaded her by topping her original plan of closing the roads a little off. He didn’t like what he had to do but it was necessary, the roads would have been closed either way and everything else just wouldn’t have stilled her thirst for blood. So right now, he was standing on a small cemented road that paved its way though the forest. A tree was blocking the street, one dead Hilltoper hanging from a tree beside the fallen one, their undead corpse growling and flailing its arm slightly while the rope cut into its throat. This one and all the others who’d hung on the other streets had been long dead before they’d gone up there, already killed last night when Beta had made his way to Alexandria and had killed another outpost on the way, recruiting new “guardians” for the horde in this night. It had been seven in total, all wearing Hilltop’s armor, and he didn’t enjoy seeing particularly that guy in front of him up in that tree. He didn’t know the others, but the guy who was hanging from the tree there had been a Savior once, not a high ranking one but high enough that Negan have had a couple conversations with him during the time he’d ruled and enough to still remember the nickname he had for him: “Skinny Joe”, the counterpart to “Fat Joe” who’d had met his demise at Daryl’s hands. He wasn’t getting sentimental here, fuck no, but he’d be a liar if he’d say seeing one of his former loyal men in that tree would do nothing at all to him. Still, it was worth it as he glimpsed to his side and saw how Alpha nearly smiled satisfied, looking at the dangling corpse up there and that facilitated the feeling in him that his plan might work. ”This was the last”, she said, the odd grin widening a little as she nodded to the skin freaks behind her and then back to Negan, “It is time to gather.” A half hour later, your mind was still occupied fully by Daryl and Negan as you walked through the wagons and stands within Hilltop, trying to find a way to distract yourself and simultaneously prepare for the battle. Daryl hadn’t shook just an inch on your belief that Negan had a plan, nor on the belief that he was working towards destroying them from the inside, but the fact that Daryl thought he had merged into a full-blown whisperer bothered you unspeakably, not mentioning the side effect that soon, the whole rest of this community would think so as well. You had no idea how this whole thing would go down tonight, if it would just be the herd or them as well, but if the later was true, first thing after Alpha and Beta people would point their weapons at would be him and there was nothing you’d be able to do to persuade them of the opposite. No one of Hilltop’s head members would believe you that he was working against them, that if he was among them even tonight, it would be part of his plan to gather their trust. That’s the way Negan thought, that was his type of strategy and all you could hope for was that Negan would be somewhere in the back, somewhere in safety. But that for sure depended on how deep he was in this whisperer misery as well. Negan was a sly fox, a charmer on top and he for sure knew how to handle people even if they were as fucked up as those skin freaks. Maybe he’d already made his way to the core of its ranks and hell, maybe he had tried to lessen this attack as well. Either way, there was no way you were gonna find that out before tonight, if at all and you first had to concentrate on surviving the next hours if you wanted to just have the chance to see him again. Sighing thickly you made your way into another stand, trying to stop your mind from wrapping itself around new confusing thoughts as you reached towards a sharpening stone. You’d get a machete, spear or whatever else they’d want you to use from hilltop, but if all things failed you’d still need a sharp knife and you couldn’t necessarily give that attribute to yours anymore. Grabbing the stone you made your way back to the mansion, hoping you’d find a free spot on its stairs as you winded yourself through the mass of people who were preparing their weapons as well, or were getting themselves warmed up until you finally got to the mansion’s porch that was filled with a couple of people, including Judith who was bowing over Daryl’s vest, some paint, brushed and a glass of paint daubed water sprawled around her. “Watcha doing?”, you asked as you sat down next to her onto the stairs, glimpsing at the part of the vest you could see from your side. “Painting uncle Daryl’s vest. I’m fixing the wing, I’m almost done”, she said, moving a little to reveal the part she’d been painting in a light blue that got now primped with some small white start at its end. “Looks great, sure he’s gonna love it”, you said, giving her a smile as you shifted a little over the wood, trying to get a little comfortable before you grabbed your knife and started to move the blade over the sharpening stone, just before you could see Judith stirring a little beside you before she moved a bit away from the vest and glanced at you. “Do you think Negan will hurt us?”, she asked, her voice trembling a little at the end, though you could hear that she was trying to keep it calm while a painful sting shot through you just hearing her question and you didn’t want to imagine how Negan would feel if he’d hear this now. “No, no he won’t”, you said, shaking your head softly and trying to keep the small smile on your face though you had a hard time doing so as you could feel the tension within you risking. “But he blocked the roads”, she mumbled, sadness filling her eyes a little more as she sat down next to you, moving the vest that looked finished by now next to her while you let out a small sigh. This was gonna get tricky. “Your uncle Daryl and I disagree on this but-”,you mumbled, halting as you tried to collect your thoughts and explain it to her in the right way,”I think he is trying to make them believe he’s on their side to help us take them down in the end. Like one of those double agents from the book you read some time ago.” “You think?”, she asked, her eyes growing a little more hopeful as she looked at you. “I’m sure”, you nodded, giving her a slightly bigger smile now before you let out a nervous but soft chuckle, trying to loosen yourself up to let that whole tension fall not only from you but her as well. Even if she was a tough kid, she was still a child and she shouldn’t have to worry about this as well beside the whole whisperer shit and tonight’s battle. ”C’mon you know him too, he sometimes has a bit odd ways to get to a goal. Remember his solutions to your math problems?” “Yeah, they were weird sometimes”,she nodded, laughing softly as he fumbled on the brush that was still in her hands. “Yeah”, you said, glimpsing down at her as you could gladly tell that she was looking much more relaxed than a couple moments ago,”See, he’s taking a special way to help us now too, just like he had very special ways to solve your math problems.” She nodded again, responding to the small laugh that left your lips, facilitated by the nervousness and tension that was still stuck within you before she nodded towards the vest, “I’ll give it to him now.” “Yeah, do that. Bet he’s gonna put it right on”, you said, giving her another smile as she stood up and grabbed the vest. “I hope so”, she said, glancing one more time at the painted wing before she headed inside, leaving you to get back to trying to distract yourself with the sharping stone. Dragging the blade along the stone you focused on it's slight twinkling in the evening sun, right before you glanced up as you heard footsteps walking right towards you. “You can shoot, right?”, you heard Diane ask as she got closer, holding a bow in one hand and a quiver with arrows in the other just before she reached you. “Yeah”, you nodded, stopping the dragging movements for a moment. “Good, we need another one in the back, would you join?” “Yes, sure”, you said, nodding once more as you laid the knife and the stone to your side so she could hand you both and just in the moment the wood of the bow smoothed against your palm and you gripped the belt of the quiver, a panicking voice echoed through the air and sent another shot of tension through your body within the matter of seconds. “The herd is coming!” Walking like a fucking dead asshole was harder than Negan had thought, especially when you had much more brain activity than those fuckers going on that allowed him to have thoughts and even worse, worries. He still believed that he might have persuaded Alpha with his tactics, but with her, you could never know for sure. The sky seemed to become darker with every slurfing step he took, looking through the holes of his damn mask to have a little bit of orientation while he tried to keep exactly those thoughts from taking his whole mind over. It was Hilltop. The odds that she was there were as fucking small as a fly’s sack. Hell, the odds that anybody else from Alexandria like Judith or Lydia were there was just as damn small. He shouldn’t try to wrap his head around this shit anymore and just hope that things would work out as he intended, that they’d try to make them bend the knee and they’d use the right moment to attack or what fucking ever, just so this damn massacre wouldn’t start here and move to Alexandria in the end. And just as he tried to ban these thoughts out of his head, he heard the skin freaks starting their whispery chant again as they moved with the dead towards Hilltop. Night had fallen over Hilltop when you found yourself standing before its gates, with the bow in your hand, an arrow loosely clamped into its string while the leatherglove that smoothed against your skin allowed you to hold it securely. It was still pointed downwards for now, waiting for the moment the herd would appear but in these moments, there was an eerie silence, only disrupted by the trembling breath by everyone next to you and the echoes of the thousands of groans that came from the forest. Hilltop was prepared, that was the only thing that made your heart beat calm down a little as you glanced around yourself. At first, about two hundred meter away from your spot, there was an electrical line spanned by Eugene and Rosita this afternoon that would hopefully split the first walkers in two that would try to make their way towards you. Then, if this part would fail, and everybody knew that this moment would come earlier or later, the fence was the next step. It was Hilltops regular fence that protected the crops that were located behind you and in front of the gates, a quite study fence with wood pillars and a whole lot of branches and undergrowth in between that would cushion the walker masses at first and which had been strengthened over the last hours. After that, the melee fighters were located, at first the ones with the medieval looking shields and their swords, directly behind them anyone else with a melee weapon, from spears to machetes, to morning stars like the one in Daryl’s hand right now. And then, there was your line, the ones with bows or slingshots like the one of Kelly, and melee weapons that were put on the ground beside you after the arrows would be gone. After that, only the next cushion zone of the crops followed for about fifty meters, and then the gates. You could feel the ground starting to quiver beneath your feet as the heard started to roll closer and the groans started to grow louder with every second, sending chills through your body as you gripped the wood of the bow tighter. Only a couple more moments. A shivering breath fell from your lips as you saw the first dead appearing in the dark right as the first walker met the electrical line and sparked red sparks through the night as it burned through its throat and cut its rotting head off right from it’s neck. “It works”, you heard Yumiko mumbling beside you as you tried to keep the hope in you controlled as the first full line of dead met the line. More sparks flew, you could see the electricity burning bright yellow lines into their bodies as they pressed against it, more and more while only a few lost their heads, while the taller majority pressed themselves only deeper into it, doing nothing more than burning their torsos. “Fuck”, you mumbled gulping, nearly too quiet for anyone else around you to hear as a load boom made you flinch back, right before you had to watch the electrical line break down into pieces as it sunk to the ground and let the dead march towards you without anything stopping them anymore. “Formation!”, you could hear Aaron scream through the night, immediately followed by the metallic booms of the rising shields clicking against one another while you gulped thickly and grabbed the bow in your hands even tighter, enough for your knuckles to turn pale as your heart beated up into your throat. “On my command, splitting ranks!”, you heard him scream again, cut off for a moment by the loud groans of the dead before his voice echoed once again through the night,”And break!” The first group split on his command, marching towards the fence as the first dead were only a couple feet away from it anymore and you glanced to your side, watching as the others started to nod to each other. “Now”, you heard Yumiko call out beside you, shooting another wave of adrenaline through your body as you pushed the bow forward, adjusted the grip on the string before pulling it back until your leather clad fingers rested against your cheek and the arrow darted into the walker mess, before you let it go and watched it shooting into the ranks of the dead. Grab a new arrow, span it into the string, bow into the front, pull the string back, adjust and release. That’s what you did over and over again, almost mechanically as you watched the others fighting in the front, saw their weapons dive into the rotting heads, smashing skulls while more walkers pushed into the limp bodies that were hanging into the branches. You could feel yourself tensing more with each shot, could feel the pulling of the string tearing on your arm’s muscles while the adrenaline in your body kept you going, forcing you to near the edge to switch into the survival mode. Breathing heavily you reached back into the quiver, feeling sick by the thought that you didn’t even had that many left, especially with the massed of walkers surrounding the fences that wouldn’t be stopped by the couple arrows you had left. And just as you moved the arrow to clip its end into the string, your eyes captured handball sized objects flying through the dark towards the fences, exploding into uncountable splatters as they crashed into the walkers, the fence and the melee fighters. Furrowing your brows you stared for a moment at the scene, at the splatters that looked like water at the first glance but that were something completely different judging from the smell that made its way through to you. It was smelling like freshly cut down trees but stronger, almost as strong as those little tree shaped air freshener you could hang into the front of your car and whose smell wouldn’t even leave your nose until you’d gotten out of the car. “Smells like a Christmas tree!”, you could hear Jerry scream in the front, stabbing another walker while he looked like he was drained in the liquid and before you could hear anybody else saying something else, your eyes caught something bright flying through the night sky, a flaming arrow that suddenly crushed into the walkers in front of the fence. Within a millisecond a ball of fire roared through the dead, nearly exploding part of the fence as a blood freezing scream let you flinch. Your fingers gripped the bow tighter as you suddenly saw one of the fighters tumbling burning away from the fence, his whole body covered in flames as he flailed his arms around himself before he crushed against the ground and let the tension within you to skyrocket once more. “It's like gasoline!”, you heard Jerry scream from the fence as you tried to pull yourself together and drag your glance from the man who started to stop moving back to your bow, before forcing yourself to go back to the old procedure and shoot another arrow into the mass. Even if you could just kill one at a time, it was better than nothing. You could feel your ribcage tightening as you reached for another one over and over again, trying to help the people in the front as best as you could before you suddenly grabbed into emptiness in your quiver and had to realize that you’d just shot your last arrow. ”Fuck”, you cursed underneath your breath as you glanced at the empty quiver, gulping thickly just in the very moment you heard a dangerous cracking coming from the fence. Shooting your glance back up you could see the first Walkers starting to break through, heard screams of Daryl and Aaron for everyone to fall back and stop the fight at the fence, just before the first dead forced their way successfully through the fence. Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck shit. Negan couldn’t think much more than in curses as groans of the herd sounded loudly through the air while he had to watch the dead and the fences of hilltop blow up in flames from afar. He hadn’t persuaded her, this fuck there, that wasn’t trying to make someone bend the knee, that crap was meant to kill them and nothing else. She’d played him, pretending as if she’d listen to him, that fucking skin freak had played him. Feeling the anger in him rising he tried to keep himself controlled from the outside and tried to get a look at the fight hilltop was fighting in these moments, still trying to persuade himself that his girl wasn’t anywhere in there, trying to tell himself how damn close to zero the odds were over and over again. He couldn’t judge how well they did from his position on the field behind the heard, all he could tell was that they were still fighting and right now, that was a good sign. Fuck, even if none of the people he could worry about were in there, Alexandria still needed Hilltop to fight these skin freaks, losing that community would be a fucking disaster. Uncomfortably he glanced to his side, watching as Alpha gathered a small group of whisperers around a fire before she moved a little away from them to take a look at Hilltop, giving him enough space to approach her. Gulping his anger away the best he could to not let it shimmer through before he walked towards her, putting a slight grin on his face as soon as she caught him. “I thought you wanted them to join us”, he said, his voice calm and not in any way resembling the anger within him as he watched her beginning to smile the fucking oddly again while she slowly stepped closer. “They will”, she said, moving even closer as she nearly bored her glance into his eyes,”As part of my horde.” Fuck. He should’ve known, he should’ve fucking known and done more, he should’ve done more to persuade her. “Holy shit”, he chuckled, overplaying the desperation and frustration that started to make its home in his body, while he knew that right now, it was too late for him to intervene. Everything else would make him look suspicious, everything else could cost him his head. “You are a badass”, he instead added, grinning widely at her in hopes to charm her a little more and cover up what he was actually feeling in these moments, to have the chance to lead her into another direction next chance he got, hopefully with more success. “This is yours”, he heard her say in the next moment, watching as she waved another whisperer over who carried a bow in his hands next to his own, “You will need it now.” This was a test now, wasn't it? He’d asked her again about letting them bend the knee so she tested him if he would question her again or if he would obey, and right now he hadn’t much of option than do the later if he didn’t want to risk to blow his cover just the tiniest bit. So he took the bow into his hands and let her lead him and the other skin freak towards the fire, spanned one of the prepared arrows that had some tree sap soaked cloths attached to its shaft into the string and watched as they passed the flame from one arrow to another, like some STD in a fucking college fraternity. ”Up high, towards the walls”, he heard Alpha say, feeling the tension within him rising with every second as he gulped thickly and moved the bow up, dragging the string back as he could feel his heart pounding against his ripcage and could feel nausea starting to claw at his throat while he tried to get his mind under control. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there. She was not fucking there. And then, he let go. Screams, groans and desperate calls echoed through the air, mixing into an eerie symphony as you could see the herd starting to further break the fences, forcing the fear and survival instinct in you to skyrocket in the very moment the dead grabbed the first Hilltopers that had been fighting them only seconds ago. “They're already dead! Let's go!”, a voice screamed through the dark, mixing with calls to just let them break through as the first melee fighters started to run towards your line, waving for you all to move towards the gates. ”Move inside!”, you heard Daryl scream, waving towards you as you dropped the bow and the empty quiver from your shoulder before the adrenaline pushed you to start running as fast as your feet could carry you. Panting you found yourself within the others, within the running group that fled like animals from a wildfire before you suddenly saw some bright points shooting through the dark above you, right before the arrows that carried them landed into Hilltops walls, setting them aflame in the matter of seconds while your whole body started to wrench in fear and shock, forcing your heart to pound against your chest as if it tried to escape while a wave of fright induced nausea washed over you and dared to put a relentless tension over your body. Walkers were coming from the back and the sides, flames were eating up Hilltops walls in the front and soared into the sky. There was no way out.

(If you would like to be tagged, just let me know! The gif isn’t mine/ it was originally posted by dancing-at-the-funeralparty)

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synoxshots · 5 years ago

Text

In the morning there’ll be hope

Today on Rishi, she'd made a difference. She'd saved people. She hadn't realised she'd been saving herself too.

Yalla'ra meets with the ghost of her former master on Rishi, and begins the path to redemption.

One-shot.

Notes:

It’s Yalla’ra’s redemption fic!

Based around the Jedi Knight class mission during Shadow of Revan. Much of the dialogue is lifted from the game, directly or paraphrased, as a lead in to exploring her character at that point in the story. Deals with the Incident with the Emperor, so there’s touches of PTSD there.

2634 words. Cross-posted to ao3.

“Everything you've just heard? It's important. Remember it. But...it can wait a little while. There's something I want you to see.”

Yalla'ra whipped her head around, to be met only by the same empty corridor leading from their makeshift base. But the voice had definitely been real. And so familiar...but it couldn't be, surely not again after all this time.

“Who's there?” she called out, her voice reverberating off the walls of the otherwise empty corridor.

“Follow your feelings, and you'll find it.” A force presence flickered for half a moment before retreating again, as if daring her to give chase. But why now? Why here?

She inhaled, taking slow, deep breaths and bowing her head as she reached out with the force.

She knew where to go. She didn't know why, or what, but there was something she needed to do.

* * * * * * * *

The house in Raider's Cove was empty, a rare moment of peace amongst the hubbub and constant bustle of the town outside. The silence unnerved her at first, a sharp contrast to the roaring shouts of pirates and screeches of the monkey-lizards that roamed the streets freely in the Cove.

The room wasn't shabby, but appeared to have gone abandoned and unnoticed in recent months. Furniture was sparse apart from the most basic table and chairs, all coated in a thin, unbroken layer of dust. The jungle of outside had started to take its hold, potted plants and trees extending from their confines to crawl up the walls and spread their leaves, making the room feel smaller than it actually was.

In appearances, she was alone. But the force swirled around the room with the presence of another.

“I grew up here, you know. In this house, not just on Rishi. Of course, I was young when the Jedi found me. Don't remember much beyond the walls, a blanket, a few friendly faces...”

A cool blue light started to flood through the room, gradually taking the shape of a man she knew so well.

“Master Orgus, it is you.” She couldn't help the smile she formed when the face of her old teacher finally emerged.

“...it seemed as good a place as any for one last visit. Hello, Yalla'ra. It's been a while. Have time for a final lesson from an old friend?” He stood now in the room with her, a ghost fully formed and bathed in a blue light. Warmth emanated from his presence, a sense of safety she'd so rarely known since his death.

“It's good to see you, Master. You know I'll always listen to any lessons you have to share. But I have to ask, why now? It's been so long since you...” Her sentence trailed away as she tried to fight back the shudder the memory always gave her. She'd tried to forget it ever since, hide it deep down inside where even she couldn't reach, until only flashes remained.

The one constant had always been her Master, saving her, pulling her out of the darkness.

“You've been fighting without pause for so long, ever since you set out to defeat the Emperor, or even since you landed on Tython. You've been waist down in dirt and fear and blood. The war's gotten uglier since he fell, and dark times still lie ahead – for the galaxy and yourself. Maybe it does seem like a strange time, but time can always be found when there are lessons to learn. Of course, whether you act on my advice has always been something else, hm?”

“So you've sensed what's ahead?”

“Only a little, but I'm worried you'll forget why you're fighting. Truthfully, I'm worried you might have forgotten already. Defending the Republic, vanquishing the Sith, those are tools a Jedi uses in the service of life, of people – but they're not ends unto themselves.”

She swallowed and turned away from her master, trying to stop her voice from faltering. “You think I kill out of passion, out of hunger. You think I've embraced the dark side.” The tone of accusation undercut her words even as she tried to avoid it, but she knew they contained an element of truth.

“I'm not here to scold or tell you how to fight,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “I'm here to help you reconnect. We're going to take some time out to help the people here. The ordinary folks, trying to make their living whilst in fear of guns and pirates. You can do more good than you know. And you'll feel why you're a Jedi.”

“But Master, I know what you're saying, but it can't be that simple. And I have an urgent mission, the Revanites-” she protested as Master Orgus raised his arms to stop her.

“Always in such a rush, never settling. We won't let the galaxy die because you stop to feed a child, I promise. Trust me, humour your old master, eh? There rarely is a good time, but I know you can't go on as you are.”

She sighed, trying hard to release her frustrations back into the force. What he said made sense, his intentions were pure, but so many other things needed to be done, and she didn't have the luxury of time in the same way as him. Yet she rarely won these debates with her master, and if he'd taught her anything, it was that there were some battles with him it was better not to pick. He could reach her in a way the other masters never had. A kindness and understanding, a reasoning he offered, that felt less like the lectures the council were all too happy to give when she dared disagree with their ideas.

And he'd saved her before, after all. Maybe he was right, and she needed saving again. If there was anyone she owed a debt to, anyone who deserved the benefit of the doubt, it was Master Orgus.

“Okay. Where do we start?”

“There are lots of people without homes on Rishi. Those people are catching Tanamen Fever; on Corellia, they'd cure it for free but here, no one much cares. Apart from you – Doc can treat a person in minutes, you've got a ship packed with food and medicine.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Yes, you do,” Orgus smiled. “No Sith Lords or ancient evils this time. Just doing a bit of good.”

* * * * * * * *

Despite her best attempts to heed her master's words, doubts still crept back into her mind as she left the house. Yet the more she worked, the more those words rang true.

She wouldn't be remembered for this, she wouldn't get recognition, but since when had that become so important?

Being a Jedi wasn't about rank and titles, or it shouldn't have been. But being denied the rank of master in such a public way had become a sore point that burned away at her, an undercurrent of bitterness rumbling inside each time she spoke with the council. Her achievements spoke for themselves, and everybody else saw that, so why not them?

Instead all they gave her were beat downs and admonishments. Constant scoldings about putting her emotions aside, not letting darkness rule her actions.

They had a point. But she wouldn't admit that when they only lectured her, and never offered solutions to resolve it.

Master Orgus had been different. He'd still been firm of course, but he actually helped her through her mistakes rather than just offering up the same old Jedi platitudes and then calling on her the next time a crisis needed solving with a lightsaber.

It wasn't that she didn't respect the council, of course she did. But sometimes it was like she was little more than the blade she carried, and they forgot about the person attached to it until afterwards. She was the best fighter in the Order, to the point it came as easily as breathing. She travelled the galaxy without rest, dropping in for the action and leaving before seeing the consequences.

But as she saw now, there were always consequences. Always people left behind at the mercy of the galaxy. People mattered – ordinary people – not just her enemies. They were forgotten too easily. She had the ability to help them, but she rarely took the time. But they were just as important, if not more.

Master Orgus was right. She understood now.

* * * * * * * *

She returned to the house alone, knowing she needed to do this by herself. Her boots were caked in mud and dust from her endeavours, her clothes damp with a mixture of sea water and sweat from her work. And yet, she was satisfied. Even as she'd tried to cast aside her doubts and understand her master's reasoning, she still hadn't expected to find the work so fulfilling. Even the force had brightened around her as she completed those simple tasks, warmer and more comforting than she'd known it for a long time.

Her master wasn't corporeal, but she could sense his presence in the room as she entered.

“Master Orgus?”

“You know, when I died – it's still strange saying that – it wasn't my victories that gave me comfort.” The radiant blue light of his ghost began to fill the room, taking the shape of his body again as he spoke. “It was all the faces of the people I'd helped that made the pain forgettable.

“If you last long enough to see the war end, how will you live? How will you find comfort when your time finally comes?”

She paused, allowing herself the time to think. After defeating the Emperor, she'd given thought to settling down. Running away with Doc, away from the Order, somewhere she could put down her lightsaber and be free from all the responsibilities forced upon her.

But defeating the Emperor hadn't been the end. The war still rumbled on: take down the head and a dozen more threats spring up to endanger the galaxy. She couldn't let herself stop until they were beaten.

The day's events had allowed her to refocus, reconnect. But how long could it last? A brief respite perhaps, but the war still raged on, and she could never turn her back upon it.

“I used to think...I wanted to leave my lightsaber behind when the war finished. But ending the Empire won't put an end to the conflict. The struggles won't just disappear, and I have a duty to fight that fight until the end.”

Her master smiled sadly at her, staring with his sympathetic eyes. “But when there is struggle, hope can still be found. There may still be a path for you to find simplicity. If it's what you want, I hope you find it.

“I've lied to you a little today. It's not just been about reminding you why you fight, though that's important too. But I know there's still an old scar you're trying to hide from. You've tried to forget, but it still aches inside you.”

“Of course...the Emperor,” she murmured, more to herself than to her master. It made sense now, why he was here. What else?

“You were under his control for so long. His darkness soaked through to your spirit. You pushed the memories of his training down so deep when you were freed. I can bring them back for you now, I know you're strong enough to handle them – let the light cure them and make you whole.”

She started pacing across the room, looking anywhere but at her master. Her breathing had become frantic, even her force-sight starting to blur.

There is no emotion, there is peace. She tried to cast her emotions aside, but she'd long struggled to find solace in the code. Feelings always bubbled to the surface too easily before she could ever release them into the force. Such a display was embarrassing in front of her master.

Was she really strong enough to face those memories? She'd pushed them so far inside, but had never shaken the fear of them. It defined her too much, ruled her actions more than she cared. At times she was barely better than the enemies she dedicated her life to destroying.

No. She mustn't let the Emperor win again. Her master was right. She knew what she had to do.

“I faced him on Dromund Kaas. I won't fear him in my memories any more.”

“Nor should you. Fear only leads to hate, as I'm sure you know. But today on Rishi, you felt love.”

Light crept into the room, slowly at first, until there was nothing else. Everything came back, all those months lost, flashing through her mind all at once.

It hurt, all of it. Every fibre of her body, every nerve was on fire, her head ready to burst.

It wasn't just those months. It was everything since.

The guilt. The hurt. The suffering.

She saw it all.

Their faces. Everybody who had lost their lives as a result of her actions. Not just imperials. Jedi, too. Allies from that fateful trip.

Warren Sedoru. She'd broken free of the Emperor, so why couldn't he? But she hadn't given him the chance.

Tol Braga. A part of her held him responsible, too. Putting them through all that, then turning to the dark side. Like it was all for nothing. She couldn't control her feelings when she met him again. But he'd always had so much hope. She could have helped him come back.

She blamed the Emperor for all that darkness. But hadn't it been a part of her before? There'd been light in Bengel Morr and Praven, but she'd been too overcome with anger to realise it. Sajar, who needed her help, and she'd pushed him closer to the old ways he'd been trying to free himself from.

But none of that was the worst thing.

That was remembering how good the dark side had felt.

How it had embraced her like an old friend. How seductive it had been, an electricity coursing through her veins. The power it had given her, unlocking levels of her potential she'd only dreamt of. It had come so easily, been so natural.

The Emperor had ruled her mind, but had she even needed much persuasion? Was it not the power she'd wanted all along? Had she not been reaching for it again ever since?

No.

Not at that cost. To others.

To herself.

Today on Rishi, she'd made a difference. She'd saved people.

She hadn't realised she'd been saving herself too.

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the force.

Somehow those words made more sense than they had before.

The light retracted, retreating into her core. The guilt remained, but there was something different from before. Something she'd not realised she'd missed for so long.

Was it hope?

“I'm...I'm whole.”

“Then it's my time to go,” her master said softly.

He'd always had faith in her, even when she wasn't deserving of it. He mattered more than he knew.

“Master Orgus, thank you. Thank you for everything. For training me, keeping faith, saving me so many times. For all you've done. May it bring you peace.”

“It already has, padawan. You won't see me again, but you won't need to now. You won't be alone in the dark days ahead. The force is with you, always.”

The force was always there, she just had to remember to listen to it. Reach for it, let it comfort and guide her. Face the darkness in her past, but not let it define her. Dedicate herself to the path of the light. She would make mistakes, but now she would face them rather than hide them.

There was always room to change. She could make things right.

#oc: yalla'ra #my fic #swtor fanfic #jedi knight #shadow of revan #swtor #*deep breath*

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