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sugarakis-p2 · 3 years

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Shigaraki's muse Ch22

Ember finally escapes! Yay! Things are bitter sweet but at least she is loved by one man who will do anything to help her.

Warning: Kisses, violence, threats of death and rape.

Chapter 21

Chapter 22: Three way split

“Are you sure he said Todoroki?” Bakugou asked. He is lounging with her in his arms, the lotion being warmed with his back. Ember found when he wasn’t screaming at her, she didn’t mind being hugged and pampered.

“Yes. I would not forget the number two hero. He said Todoroki and a part of me got wet at the idea of having a little flame prince or princess,” she says, flipping through her Manga.

“We could use this to our advantage. Having that old man recognize you in that battle is serious. Could cause problems later.” He says, putting on the same rubber gloves. She wants to ask him about it but hasn’t dared yet. He squeezes out a warm glob, rubs his hands together, and then starts creating gentle circles. Whispering sweet nothings to the baby. She doubts the baby can hear it from near her head, so really, he’s whispering to her.

“Well, I don’t want anything to do with any Todoroki; if they produced Dabi, they could go straight to hell. The way this fucker moves around in there, I can only imagine what kind of evil disposition it has. I can feel it. It’s going to be an HIM and probably a clone of Dabi. You know, because life just loves to shit on me. We? When did we agree to be, we?”

“Yes, we! You can be in denial as much as you want, but the fact is everyone else is an extra. At some point, you’ll realize it,” He caresses her belly sensually. She can feel a bulge even through the pillow between them. Ok, enough of this, she thinks, grunting while getting up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, isn’t there somebody in your class or your age you can yearn for?” She asks sincerely and as gently as she can manage. Rubbing the excess lotion into her skin. Bakugou looks dumbfounded for a second before he takes the gloves off and carefully sets them aside with a shrug.

“I was more focused on being a hero. Once I joined UA, I was less popular and had more competition. There was someone. You remind me of him, stupidly nice, but he’s likely dead. That pink girl sounded like a girl he spent time with, ergo I think he was the redhead they mentioned,” He shrugs again. Ember is physically sick at hearing this. She wonders how he doesn’t blame her for this. Tears are rolling down her cheeks against her will. She throws herself at him, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry. How are you so calm? This is all my fa,” She begins but is interrupted by him.

“Do you remember what you told me the second day I was here? I was a mess. Blaming myself. Crying out in my sleep when you came crawling out from under the desk. I was startled and hit you.” He wipes his hands on his shirt before he holds her face in his palms. Making her look into those crimson eyes. “You smiled and told me it wasn’t my responsibility. I can’t take the burden of what bad people actually have done; on me. You need to take your own advice. But I will take the hug. You feel good. Smell nice too.” He mumbles, pulling her back into the embrace.

“How? You can’t tell me that evil nerd is better than me in any way,” he growls suddenly. It was so surprising she jerked away and narrowed her eyes at him.

“That nerd and I have a lot in common,” she replies. Ember still feels ashamed about his friend and doesn’t understand the strange subject change.

“We have a lot more real experiences together that are not tainted. Plus, I have muscles. Feel,” he says, flexing in her arms. Ember wriggles, trying to move out of his hug.

“Tomura has muscles too,” she huffs. He’s not ready to let her run away from this conversation he’s tried to have with her several times since she kissed him.

“Why do you still call him that? He is Tomura Shigaraki! Shigaraki! Like the fucker that defiled you. What do you know, son like Master,” he seethes.

“Don’t start, Baku. I’m not in the moo,” Again, he interrupts her.

“Say it,” he shouts at her. “Say his full name. The one he used when he went out to kill kids. Say it!” he yells at her.

“I can’t,” she weeps.

“Because he threatened to hurt you if you called him anything other than Tomura? That right there is proof he has gotten in your head. That he’s a monster, who doesn’t deserve you. Even if we don’t end up together, don’t go running back to the man that abused you. I care about you too much for that,” he says, finally releasing her. She pushes herself from him.

“Fine fuck! He got in my head. Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” Wiping tears away as she stands. He tenderly grabs her hand, plays with her fingers, and makes her soften a little to him. Tomura couldn’t do this. He ruins it, like always.

“I’m not crying over my dead friends because when I find Shigaraki, I’m going to kill him,” he says through gritted teeth.

“That doesn’t sound very hero-like. Let’s just go. It’s time for HS,” she answers, yanking her fingers back.

“So, you can run away from this conversation? Run away from me? Run back to him?” He is staring at her with those beautiful red eyes making her weak. Standing and wrapping his arms around her. She gives him a stunning smile that makes him look away. His cheeks are reddening.

“No. I am going to eat a dozen donuts with a glass of that chocolate bubble tea. I’m tired of eating dried noodles,” Ember teases, moving towards the dark hall. She has been feeling a regular fluttering of baby feet in her.

“That’s not good for you or the baby. A large salad with iron-rich greens is what you will get,” he responds, leading the way with the lamp that is quickly losing its light.

“Fuck you! I will not! Can’t make me,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Yeah, you will.” He smirks at her as they arrive under the vent. “You have been doing amazing. You can pull the reaction to you from further and further. Can you maintain that kind of pressure you did last time?”

“I think I can. It gets more complicated when I can’t see you. Please, be vigilant. I worry about the stench your body will create if we fuck up. If I fuck up,” Ember frets.

“I’m explosion-proof,” he says simply. As if Ember has not grasped this concept.

“But you’re not crush-proof. You still need to breathe. Please be careful. There will be no way for me to get you out,” she pleads.

“Hey, I’m going to be fine.” Bakugou gives her an annoyed look.

“You need to stop, take a break, you shout out.” He instructs. “I’m about ready to fly up there. Are you ready?” She nods and removes most of her clothes. He looks away and gets in his flight stance.

“Ready!” she shouts. Immediately Baku explosions are muffled by her quirk. A line of swirling molten lava appears all over her body. She never knew her quirk worked like this until Bakugou. Her eyes even glowed, and she delighted in how pretty it looked. The molten patterns sucks in the sparks and flames, no longer just to her mouth, it flows to the line like metal attracted to a magnet. Hours go by, and she feels sick to her stomach. She might burst any second.

“Baku, I need a break,” She yells over his explosions. She doesn’t stop until she no longer sees sparks. She can hear Baku grunt and bang around as he crawls out to drop in front of her.

“WE ARE CLOSE! I reached out into empty space up there. It’s a room. Come here!” He grabs her before she can say anything. Baku is pressing his soft lip to hers. What started as a celebration smooch turned quickly into a demanding carnal kiss. A hand goes to the back of her head as his tongue massages hers. He tasted a little sour but still spicy. He moans slightly with need into her mouth. Ember wasn’t hating it, but she felt like she was going to puke in his mouth. She raises her arms and pushes him away.

“I don’t feel well,” she gasps.

“Kiss couldn’t have been that bad,” Bakugou says with a handsome grin. It disappears and twists into dreaded concern. “Ember. What’s wrong?”

“I feel so strange. A foul taste at the back of my throat.” She clutches at her throat. Foul black bile is forcing its way out of her. It feels alive. The sudden lack of oxygen after using her quirk is making her lightheaded. She doesn’t want to pass out, and she tries to scream for Bakugou. All she can do is choke. Bakugou looks frightened and enraged at the same time. It is making this worse. If he’s scared, she should be frightened.

“Ember! No! God Dammit!” he curses, trying to grab her. Ember has never seen it before, but be he has. Somehow that quirk is being used to take Ember away from him. His fingers pass through black bile.

“Not again! Fuck you, Shigaraki! I’m going to fucking kill you. I’m going to kill you. Not again. Not Ember,” He whimpers. Falling to his knees where he last saw her.

Ember is in a dark room. A void she is too scared to move, her heart is slamming, and she tries to calm down for the baby. It’s a deep inky black, and she couldn’t see the floor. Timidly she stretches out a toe, and the blackness ripples like water.

“Ember. Over here! Come here, baby girl!” A heavily accented man shouted in the distance. She squints to see spots of white on him. Her breath is hitching as she struggles with what to do. She starts crying and babbling in French. Questioning if she should risk it. Tomura would be deadly if he found out she ran to a hero…. she stops. This is familiar. She only speaks French in dreams. Terror! He has a heavy accent and calls her baby girl. She runs towards the white dots. The closer she gets, the shape begins to take form. The two-tail black and white tuxedo, the silver temples. It is Terror in his dream form. The same as when she first saw him before Blue Streak. Silver fox, handsome, and not drooling while shitting himself in a wheelchair.

She ran into his arms and hugged him. Ember wept like a child, then turned into a child. The dreamscape has a way of getting out of hand when strong emotions are involved. This is the Terrors world, and he knows how to navigate it. He lifts her up and cradles Ember to him as if he really was her father.

“I missed you. I didn’t know if you were ok or even alive. Where are you?” He gasps through his own tears.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. That villain, All for One, put me in a fucking bunker! Where were you? I had so many nightmares, and not once did you show up.” The child version of her dripped tears and snot while she weakly smacked at him.

“You were out of reach until a moment ago.” His features twisted in rage. “I know that fucking bunker. Fucking AFO. Gave him my loyalty, my life services, and the fucker does this. I begged him a week after you disappeared to find you. It was suspicious how that burnt kid kept coming around. Asking a bunch of questions about us and YOU. AFO told me he would do his best. Asked a bunch of questions and then ghosted me. Mother fucker. I bet he was laughing the whole time. It must have been the bunker blocking me. Which means you are not in the bunker anymore. Describe it. What happened a moment ago?”

“I’m pregnant and thought it was the sickness. But instead, I started puking up black stuff. It felt warm and alive. It smelled and tasted gross, like bile mixed with old blood sausage. Bakugou was in front of me, panicking. The blackness spread. Then I was being grabbed by a Nomu; I felt its familiar grip. I know the fucking Nomu that grabbed me. I ended up here. I can’t give you directions. But that Nomu was last with AFO. At AFO’s medical place,” she was strong at first, but it ended in a whimper, and she became even younger. “Please make this stop. If I birth myself, I’m going to fucking lose it.”

He waves his hand and turns her back into how she sees herself now. The Terrors eyes widen as he looks at her middle. He immediately began cussing, and images of slaughtering AFO started flashing around. She screamed in horror when there were different versions of her being fucked by AFO, making her sick.

“No, stop! It’s not AFO’s. Fuck sake, I would kill myself if that happened. It’s not his.” The flashing imagines started to calm down, and it went back to a blank scape.

“I’m so sorry. I get very emotional when I think of what AFO could have done to you. I know that there is no limit to his wickedness. The quirk you described sounds like Black Biles. He has been missing for a year. When you are awake. Look at your surroundings. Memorize all the details of it as I taught you. I must ask. Whose is it? It’s important.”

“I, well, it’s a long story. But I…technically…. I don’t know. Dabi Todoroki or Tomura Shigaraki,” she shrugs.

“Fuck. It might make finding you easier but getting you away…,” he trails off. “I will do everything I can. Be smart. You stay safe. I can feel you waking up. I will see you back here.” He kisses her forehead.

Ember's eyes flutter open, and she moans. The ceiling is nasty blood-splattered steel. She looks over and groans. She’s in a cell. On the other side of the bars is a short bald man she recognizes. She even knows the giant Nomu beside him.

“Good morning Ms. Ember,” Ujiko said. Looking at a chart.

“Hello, Dr. Ujiko. Long time no see. I have a few questions,” she says with the falsest smile she has ever used.

“I won’t be answering any of your questions right now. I also won’t be feeding you until you step to the bars and hold out your arm. I need to draw blood,” he grumbles. Ember throws her legs over, standing her knees get wobbly, and she needs to sit back down.

“Sorry, Doc. I really need something to eat. It’s been dried noodles for weeks. Maybe get that Nomu to pick me up." She points.

“Nope. You have your quirk back, and I don’t underestimate quirks. Do you want food? Dig down deep and put your arm through the bars.” He taps the bars with his pen. Condescending penis tip, she thinks. She grits her teeth and crawls to the bars on her hands and knees. Her hand landed on a small pebble, and it hurt like hell. She lifts it to see that it’s not a pebble. It’s a human tooth. She flicks it away and continues with a disgusted shudder. She’s lying on the ground with her arm through the bar. At least the doctor is quick.

“That is a lot of blood Doc. I’m getting lightheaded,” she chuckles nervously. “Where is Tomura? Can I see him? I miss him.”

Her eyes are darting everywhere, striving to remember the most minor details. The doctor took five vials and plugged several into various machines. He took the last and plugged it into a machine holding one of his Nomu’s tanks. She looks over at the giant hulky black monster at the bars and waves to be polite. It’s the one that has licked her before. The Master used him the most because he had the largest and longest tongue that lolled out. Combined with its long neck, it looked like a gothic giraffe. Maybe a cenobite from Hellraiser, with its brain all out there, she thinks.

He sees her and does something that makes her skin crawl. He looks to the doctor. When he sees he’s busy, he leans down. His long tongue stretches through the bars and licks over her lips. She jerks away from him with a squeak of surprise. He made a deep growl and checked to see if the doctor was looking again. She had no idea it had a mind of its own. Ember starts babbling at the doctor to get his attention. The Nomu snorts in frustration at her actions.

“Oh, my doc. This is an interesting place. What have you been up to? Is that a new Nomu? Can I see Tomura soon? Can I ask where is Bakugou?” she asks as the tongue slithers back in its mouth before the doctor notices.

“I don’t like these nutrient numbers. I will give you some supplements and a balanced meal.” He says, making notes in her personal chart. She really didn’t like this guy. “Are you really concerned for the brat?”

“Well, as a health care professional, you think you would be too,” she snits at him.

“He’s fine. In fact, he has longer to live now that you’re here. However, if you step out of line, refuse to take your medicine, or eat the food in protest. I’ll be sure to leave him down there. In about three hours, I’ll let you out, and you will meet your own personalized Nomu,” he grins.

“You’re a mean one Mr. Ujiko,” she hisses. “Please, let him go. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been trained by your Master; Shigaraki, so I won’t cause a fuss. You won’t even know I’m here. Let the boy go,” she begs, least annoyingly way she can think of.

“Very true. Not after I get this Nomu working. You will not be going anywhere,” he chortles to himself.

“Can you please tell me where Tomura is?” She asks again. Maybe she can keep hope alive that she won’t be stuck dealing with this mad scientist.

“He’s fine. Master wanted you taken care of. Need to get you prepped for two more quirks. Which means we need you healthy,” he snorts in disgust.

“I really don’t want more quirks. Where is Tomura?” She snivels.

“Too bad. He has plans for you. Personally, I don’t know what any of them see in you,” he huffed, walking away. The Nomu left and came back with her pills and a hospital tray of spinach and meatloaf. She snatches it and shoves it in her face at lightning speed. Ember can’t taste it, and she doesn’t care; she wants food so bad. The tray is licked clean. She feels so wrong, racked with guilt. Bakugou is still trapped, not enjoying anything as fresh. How will he tunnel out without her? Looking up, she sees the Nomu has something else. It’s a chocolate pudding cup. Her mouth is watering at the thought of it. The fucker is shaking it at her like a doggy toy.

“What do you want for that?” she asks cautiously. It raises a finger and beckons to her to come closer. His tongue is drooping and dripping with saliva. She shudders in fear and shakes her head no. She even squirms further away into the corner of the dirty bed.

“I’m good, sweetie. Besides, what if the doctor comes back? And I have to be honest, it’s hard to get in the mood for that when I’m in a gore-covered hell hole,” she says to him. It gives her a pitiful whimper and tosses the pudding at her. She catches it and immediately opens it, using her finger to scoop it in her mouth. She moans in pleasure.

“Thank you,” she mourns. I guess we were both right, Baku, Ember supposes.

Elsewhere.

Shigaraki is stepping on a sidekick’s head, grinding the heel of his red sneaker in her pretty hair, making her cry. Her arms are tied behind her back in the middle of Ember's kitchen. He can hear her delicate strands tear away and the cracking sound of her nose. He hoots around father in joy. Blood mixed with other fluids smeared the kitchen floor. It annoyed him, Ember likes her kitchen sterile, and this dumb bitch is forcing him to spoil it.

“Oh, look at the brave hero. I do not admire or appreciate it. Tell me what I want to know,” he snarls at the sidekick through gritted teeth.

“Hey, Shiggy,” Dabi begins.

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses. Turning his attention back to his current task.

“We’re fuck brothers, though. We’re going to be fuck brother-husband-co-daddies, and I can’t call you Shiggy?” Dabi snorts, shaking his head as Shigaraki starts to itch his neck. It had become a bloody mess without Ember. Dabi was doing his best to be an adult about it. Not that Shigaraki ever showed he appreciated the efforts.

“I am going to be a husband. I am going to be the daddy. You’re just the guy who betrayed her, not my brother,” Shigaraki snarls. He takes out his frustrations on the girl writhing and crying on the ground as he grinds just a little harder. Not enough to make her burst like a melon but enough to get his point across.

“Well, what I was going to say, Shiggy, was that one person offered a lot of money for a video of you strangling and decaying a person. Double for a sidekick,” he says casually. Shigaraki smiles and lifts the woman by her hair.

“That sounds like a great way to kill two birds with one stone,” Shigaraki agrees as he quickly wraps four fingers around her neck. The little sidekick spits out three of her teeth in Shigaraki’s face.

“Fuck you. Go to hell!” she snarls at him. The mess of her face dripping blood, snot, and tears. Shigaraki lets go of her neck to wipe the smear of blood and spittle off his face.

“Well, you’re not pretty anymore, so I don’t want to fuck you,” he taunts her. He looks to Dabi and grins. “Didn’t they say they would pay more if you fucked one?”

This question made the future hero whimper pitifully and squirm. She weakly tries to pull away from Shigaraki. Dabi notices and grins.

“What’s the matter, princess? Don’t you like the idea of me fucking you? That’s a shame because I’m the nice one. The lizard has two cocks with spines,” Dabi says, pointing to Spinner.

“Shut up, Dabi!” Spinner huffs and blushes.

“And Toga has to be last. Because I’m sure she will cut you and suck you dry,” He smiles as if knowing this is a fact.

“She is pretty cute,” Toga giggles licking her blade.

“You’re not looking at the bright side. At least while our dicks and knives are inside you, you still have a moment longer to live. Because this guy,” Dabi points to the maniac scratching himself and seething with rage. “Doesn’t show mercy, and he can make it slow. Start at the feet.”

She whimpers and squirms, her eyes darting in fear from one to the other.

“I rather die than have anyone one of you in me,” she sneers.

“Well, now that’s just an open invitation to the likes of us, sweetie,” Mr. Compress says.

“If I make doubles, do all my doubles get a turn too?” Twice asks.

“I like that idea. Very outside of the box. Nice work Twice,” Shigaraki rasps around father. Tears cascade down her face, and she sobs. She wanted to be a strong hero, but she never thought in a million years she would be dealing with pure evil like this. The thought of them violating her and posting it on the internet was more dreadful than killing her. She was ready for a punch to the face or death, but humiliation like this would be too far.

“We have her laptop in evidence. Although we found nothing on it. I have no idea where it is now. Couldn’t reach it if you tried,” she blubbers. “Kill me now, please.”

“As you wish,” Shigaraki begins to strangle her. Her body convulsed as she struggled to breathe.

“Wait, I have an idea. I will put her in the same mailbox we put the others in and stake it out. Someone delivered those would-be heroes to the doctor. You know the redhead and girl with no arm,” Compress suggests. Shigaraki sighs and shoves her to him. She falls forward with a wet splat and a groan of pain. Compress turns her into a marble with an elaborate swoop and puts her in his pocket with a flourish. Magne squeaks and covers her mouth when everyone looks at her. She says nothing and they draw their attention back to Compress, she quickly turns to Mustard.

“I took my eyes away for a second!” rattled Magne shows him the feed from Shigaraki’s old room. Bakugou has made a person out of pillows and blankets, hugging them tightly, curled in a fetal position, while weeping soundlessly. Mustard switches to the other cameras and gasps. This was bad. Bakugou came back with no Ember and is now crying about it.

“Fuck, what if he killed her?” Mustard breathes. He had to stay calm to control his gas.

“I don’t want to be the one to tell him. You tell him,” she panics and forces it in his hands.

“After I threatened to kill her, he’s been giving me the dangerous shit jobs. You tell him,” he tosses it back. She juggles it like a poisonous snake.

“Tell me what?” Shigaraki asks. With shaky hands, Magne tosses the cell onto Ember's couch. Shigaraki snatches it up and has a look. The one red eye they can see narrows in anger, then confusion as they see Shigaraki press the same button, flipping through the various cameras. An unnatural keen is growing in his throat.

“No! No! No! Where is she?” he screeches. Tearing at the flesh of his neck. He was bleeding so severely, several of the members of the League had to stop him.

He was crushed, lost in the darkness again.

Chapter 23

#yandere shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura #lemon #boku no hero academia tomura #tomura smut #my hero academia shigaraki #yandere #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x oc #league of villains #alternate universe #bhna bakugou #bhna smut #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #tomura shiragaki

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toricrypticice · 3 years

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The Golden Scarred

CHAPTER THREE (Fixed Perspective)

“Wait what?” Hunter nervously glances at the Owl Lady gulping. “Uh I don’t think that's-“ He looks back to where Luz was “and she's gone” He grumbles.

He glances back at the older woman feeling nervous and a bit uneasy. He fumbles slightly, his vision blurring. He yelps when his vision focuses in time to see Eda reach towards his face. He tenses, shutting his eyes tightly waiting for the expected blow. Eda frowns as the male flinches back. Rolling her eyes as she sighs.

“Relax kid, I'm not gonna hurt ya. Got no magic to anyways” Eda jokes, resting her hand against his hot forehead to which; he lets out a pathetic whimper leaning into her cool hand before growling, grabbing her wrist and pulling away. He opens his eyes looking angry for showing weakness.

“Don’t. Touch. Me. “ Hunter says through clenched teeth as he glares at the female, he sits up straighter as to intimidate her. Eda just stares,

Hunters’ grip felt ..so weak.

She frowns, concerned as she watches him shakily let go, holding his head in pain as he gets another dizzy spell.

Hunter frowns as his head spins, wishing more than anything to just disappear from here, of course he’d get left with this wild witch when he was in such a state. He needed to get out of here and figure out how to redeem himself.

“Okay okay. Look I just have to clean the cuts on your face, is that alright?” Eda says calmly, her eyes glancing to his torso where he shielded what looked like a worse injury from what the dark-stained shirt could tell her. She looks back to the males eyes offering a gentle smile. Hunter was confused but kept a harsh glare on the female.

No one ever asked him if it was alright with him before.

The question made him feel off and wrong.

In the emperor's coven he was used to things just happening, he didn’t get a choice.

But what made his stomach turn was the offer for someone to help with his wounds.

It was unheard of!

Getting hurt was a sign of weakness the Emperors coven didn’t get the luxury to enjoy.

Especially Hunter.

If anyone got hurt they were expected not to show any weakness, hide away if they had to.

But Hunter's confusion seems to leave him as he remembers who she was.

The Owl Lady.

The once most powerful witch on the isle.

She uses wild magic.

She was a crook.

She wasn’t to be trusted.

It was almost laughable that he almost fell for it.

“No I don’t want your help” Hunter mutters angrily as he looks away rolling his eyes at the female. Eda couldn’t help but snort, causing the male to glance back quickly looking a bit more agitated, his face going slightly red, even the tips of his ears burning as Eda laughs at him. He lets out a slight growl clenching his teeth.

“Alright. alright, how about this then? I’ll give you the supplies and you clean them? “ Eda smirks confidently. Hunter nods slowly, almost unsure, confused. This was some kind of trick right?

He narrows his eyes at her trying to read her eyes for any type of clue.

This had to be a trick.

The Owl Lady practiced wild magic.

Wild magic is dangerous ergo so was The Owl Lady.

“Good!” Hunter snaps with attitude before taking the first aid kit from her hands aggressively, a bit too quickly, his head spinning at the rapid movement. He bites his lip.

If he ignored the dizziness then he could do this,

yeah?

Yeah.

He’d done this for himself plenty of times in the coven.

This wasn’t any different.

And as his Uncle always told him, things like this would only make him stronger.

He lets out a breath and picks up a bottle of what he hoped was the cleanser. He holds it close to his face trying to read the contents as his vision blurs again, his head suddenly pounding worse making his stomach do a somersault. He overall did not feel good. He just wanted to lay down and forget all this.

He shakes his head grumbling, almost dropping the bottle as he blinks to try to sort his vision.

Eda watches the male smirking, knowing he would give in any second.

Hunter gulps as his vision focuses, he can feel The Owl Ladys’ gaze and he couldn’t help but glance her way seeing the smug expression.

This causes his face to turn slightly red in embarrassment, the blush spreading to the tips of his ears as he growls loudly.

‘She knew!’

‘She knew he couldn’t do it’

‘She just wanted to rub it in his face!’

Hunter felt angry as his thoughts screamed.

“Fine! I need your help!” Hunter snaps bitterly, he spat out the word ‘help’ in distaste, grumbling as he looks away from the Owl Lady with a scowl.

Eda chuckles “Ha Don’t worry about it kid” she smiles softly before getting a clean cloth ready. She dabs it slightly on the area below and around his eye. Hunter gasps slightly before he bites his tongue to keep from whimpering, the area stinging.

“Warn me next time “ he huffs “A-and stop calling me kid” He mutters through gritted teeth trying to hold onto what little dignity to the coven he had left.

He was the golden guard.

He just-.. needed to earn the title back.

He shudders softly, his fingers gripping onto the couch, trying his best not to show weakness as he sits completely still.

Though Eda seemed to take notice of the tense witch.

“Just relax,” She reassures. Hunter glares at her frowning .

“I. am. relaxed. “ He pauses, taking a breath, feeling agitated.

She was teasing him on purpose,

Unbelievable

“You’re just clearly bad at this!” Hunter bites back before he can stop himself, his eye throbbing badly from the stress.

Eda clicks her tongue, shaking her head about to say something and then stopping with a heavy sigh putting the cloth down.

Hunter felt his heart skip a beat in terror but he didn't dare move as his eyes twitch slightly with fear.

He was going to be punished for talking back wasn’t he?

His breath stopped short and he bows his head quickly.

“I apologize. It won’t happen again” the reply came swift before Eda could even open her mouth, like Hunter was used to biting his tongue and apologizing.

And titan, he was.

Or at least when he was stupid enough to get mouthy.

But he learned very quickly not to get mouthy with Belos..

Eda frowns, feeling bad for the kid. Belos really did torture them in the emperors coven huh? She felt bad for when she assumed they had everything handed to them. That they were Belos’ star children and were loved unconditionally even if they fucked up. They were his coven after all. But Eda realized now how stupidly naïve she was to think such a thing. The Emperor really was merciless, and with his own nephew too? She could really tell Belos did a number on the boy. Faded scars lined his arms, not to mention his cheek and clipped ear. And now there was the damage from the days prior. Belos was a monster.

“Look, kid, seriously relax. If we were going to hurt or turn you in we would have done it already” Eda hums, joking to lighten the mood. But when she notices Hunter is still tense she sighs out “but like we won’t, you’ve been through a lot plus we’re criminals” she assures gently. Continuing to clean the area around his eye, being careful going a bit slower this time. Hunter scoffs, rolling his eyes looking away. Her words annoyed the male, he didn’t need her pity.

“Wooow I feel so much safer “ He mutters sarcastically but his shoulders seem to actually relax, only tensing slightly every now and again.

But Eda was right.

They all could have done away with him easily, especially during his episode. And it’s not like they really could turn him in anyway if they wanted to, they all had their own wanted posters. Though he had expected these wild witches to be harsh with him, much like Belos was. But so far The Owl Lady’s touches weren’t harmful or ill intended.

She was just …

taking care of him.

This left a bitter taste in his mouth. He gulps feeling guilty for the small part of him that enjoyed it.

Eda carefully wraps the area, being gentle. Hunter couldn’t help but let a soft smile grace his features.

This was..

...Different.

To have someone else clean his wounds and not himself for a change.

To have someone be gentle and caring with him.

It was kind of…

Nice.

“Thank you for your assistance Ms. Clawthorne..” Hunter mumbles softly, maintaining his composure as he straightens his back letting his smile fall.

“No problem but you can just call me Eda kid. “ She laughs softly.

Hunter looks away embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck. He wasn’t used to getting help.

It felt so..

Unnatural.

And for this witch of clearly high rank to want him to call her Eda.

This all made his stomach turn.

This wasn’t right.

His mind kept screaming ‘Run get out!’

Eda was the ene—The Owl Lady!!

The Owl Lady was the enemy.

He growls as he has to mentally correct himself. He couldn’t use their names. That would only make him get attached- not that he could get attached to these lowlifes.

Comfortable. He wouldn’t get comfortable. And he knew he wouldn’t fall for whatever façade The Owl Lady was pulling.

Eda ties off the bandage.

He was tired and glad this was all over. He could go back to his cave and -

“ Alright onto the next one.” Eda hums but frowns as she watches the color drain from the small males face, his eyes widening as a few beats of sweat fall from his brow.

Hunter coughs, grabbing his side, clenching his teeth at the feeling as it throbs badly.

Dammit why did he let himself believe it was over?

He let his guard down!

He felt angry but more nervous about Eda looking at something a bit more serious.

His vision swims as he looks back at the female and he shakes his head.

“Er um how about we don’t and I leave?” Hunter laughs nervously looking down, fumbling as he scoots back slightly looking uneasy. He sits straight as he remembers his status. He couldn’t show he was scared. “I-I’ve overstayed my welcome long enough” he says strictly trying to hide his fear.

Eda frowns, she knew that meant it was most likely really bad and with the fever the boy had...

She really needed to look at it.

“Kid I just need to take a small peek I promise I won’t hurt ya as I said before“ Eda reassured and yet Hunter felt more nervous..

Could- Could he actually trust her?

No, No of course not!

But on the other hand ..

This was more serious…

Then again..

But Belos had always taught him to keep his guard up, even in friendly company..

Rascal pecks his leg, tweeting loudly.

“Ow hey!” Hunter growls startled. He scoffs at the bird as he glares at the boy.

He hated to admit that he did need her help and he hated that he had to show it.

He hadn’t really looked at it since— what happened..

He gulps, deciding he had no choice (like usual), he shakily starts to remove his shirt, wincing badly as it barely grazes the area on his torso.

Edas’ frown worsened when Hunter revealed the darkly red-stained cloth wrapped tightly around his torso.

Hunter coughs a bit harshly, feeling his vision swim again. He closes his eyes to steady himself.

Eda watches, having to stop herself from moving forward to help the male knowing he needed time to adjust to them.

But she felt so worried, she just wanted to help him.

Hunter looked so weak.

So tired.

So Pale.

So frail.

The Golden Guard was but a small child.

And He did not look well.

Eda hated herself for caring but.. she couldn’t really believe it.

The Golden Guard.

One of the Heads of The Coven

A child.

Just a child.

And Belos did all of this.

To a child

She felt angry.

So angry.

She couldn’t believe Belos would-!

well yes she could but she was just shocked he’d do such a thing to family. She felt sorry for the boy.

Hunter opens his eyes slowly before carefully starting to peel the bandage off. He gasps loudly, clenching his jaw as he pulls the stuck gauze from his flesh. A few tears started to build, blurring his vision and he quickly blinks them back. The fabric almost seemed sealed to his skin as he rips it off, blood dripping down his stomach. Hunter’s breath hitches as he finally tears it off, a small whimper leaving him as he shields the area gritting his teeth, shaking slightly.

It hurt

It hurt so much.

“Hunter?” Eda moves her hand to his shoulder carefully before rubbing his back softly, concerned.

Hunter shutters softly at the small touch but nods.

“Sorry I know i just- right” Hunter didn't feel ready but he slowly removed his hands revealing the giant gash in his side which was bleeding a bit badily and now oozing a small bit. His stomach flips and He feels a slight tickle in his throat, he coughs harshly before he quickly supports the area after the first cough, a strained sound escaping him, a few tears falling as well. His side pulsing with every cough that shook his being.

”Ah mm ah ahh” He grips the area, slightly his vision swimming. The pressure the cough created made the pain a bit unbearable, he shudders.

He just wanted to give up at this point. Just lay down. It hurt too much. But he knew he needed to suck it up.

“S-Sorry” he shakily removed his now blood stained hand slowly, his voice was soft and his eyelids shook weakly. He bites his lip nervously as his side pulses again but he grips the couch instead.

Eda felt her heart break at the sight.

“Stop apologizing already, Look before we start, because won't lie that looks real bad, if i gave you some sleeping nettles and maybe some-”

“No.” Hunter's reply came fast and stern, Eda seemed a bit taken back by this. She pauses as she looks at the male confused.

Was he used to high end healing?

Eda didn’t really have anything like that.

“Look i know its no healing spell or healing potion but it can help you-”

“If you had healing potions i wouldn’t take those either” Hunter rolls his eyes as if it were obvious and she was an idiot for even thinking of offering. He glances down at the hole in his side gulping uneasily.

Eda looks confused but then frustrated.

“Hunter, why are you being so difficult?” Eda groans in slight annoyance, I mean when she found out about her elixirs she had been so happy to find something to help her deal with the owl beast curse.

So why was this young witch, who’s clearly in immense physical pain, take nothing to help deal with the issue?

But Hunter only seemed confused by The Owl Lady’s question.

“Belos says that truly strong witches don't need such trifle things”. Hunter states matter-of-factly gripping the couch cushion. “I mean how will I truly get stronger with assistance?” He laughs and scoffs as he shakes his head at the woman who stares in disbelief.

Eda stopped and stared for a moment. It was painful to watch the male suffer, she felt angry that Belos had fooled the boy so well. The fact that he fully believed such a thing.

“Hunter, you don’t have to suffer to get better or to get stronger! that's not how this works.” Eda seemed exasperated that she even had to explain this to the young male.

How dare Belos!

She felt so so angry but sad as she stared at the clueless child.

“J-just let me get my magic nettles cream at least so I can numb the area slightly before its cleaned. You're lucky to be alive with no stitches-“

“S-Stitch” Hunter gulps feeling a bit sick at just the thought and he quickly shakes his head. “I-i really don't think that would have been necessary i mean look,” he looks down at his oozing, festering wound “its- not that bad” he says quickly, his voice cracking making it not so convincing. He felt a bit sick to his stomach just looking at the wound, dizzy. He looks back at the woman smiling.

Eda stares at him blankly.

Hunter frowns as he realizes she is not buying it.

“Okay yeah stitches probably were the best idea but” he mumbles defeated, putting his head down staring at his hands as they shake slightly. He really didn’t like stitches, back when he got his nick in his ear he fainted mid-stitch and well he didn’t really remember anything else beside the panic of having a chunk of his ear missing when he woke up. Hunter lets out a shaky breath.

“Alright relax kid and lay back “ Eda grabs her cream unscrewing the cap. Hunter gulps carefully laying on his back, gasping in pain as his side throbs. He bites his lip before gulping.

“We’ll numb the area first then i’ll start cleaning”

Eda hums walking him through the process

“Yeah yeah okay whatever” Hunter mumbles less bite in his words. He felt tired and he was in so much pain.

Eda carefully spreads the cream, it glows bright yellow as Hunters body absorbs it.

“Ah-“ He gasps gripping a nearby pillow.

“Now before we continue you sure you don’t want some sleeping nettles or-“ Eda hums careful wetting a cloth with cleaner.

“No I don’t need anything else I’m sure it's fine” he mumbles lying.

Hunter's hands balled into fists at his sides, feeling scared.

No no he was The Golden Guard.

He scoffs at himself letting out a breath as he releases his tight grip.

“Alright well then do it” He snaps slightly.

Eda couldn’t help but chuckle at the boys agitation, it reminded her a lot of herself.

“Alright alright sheesh kid” she rolls her eyes before gently cleaning around the wound first.

The male immediately tenses badly, his breath hitching as his eyes widen. He shakes his head shutting his eyes trying to maintain any of his composure. The Owl lady stops slightly. “Numbing cream will only go so far. Are you sure you don’t-“

“No! just clean the stupid gash!” Hunter growls, cutting her off with a snap as he glares..

Eda frowns but sighs softly. “A-alright “ she says a bit shakily. “But you asked for it” he carefully touches the actual area starting to clean but Hunter fully sits up covering his mouth as he cries out in pain, tears blurring his vision before he scoots away putting his legs up to block his stomach.

Eda puts her hands up immediately, eyes wide. She had expected a reaction but-

Hunter grits his teeth as a sob escapes his person and he looks down shamefully.

Eda clicks her tongue sighing.

“Kid?” Eda tries gently.

“I’ll take the magic assistance..” His shoulders sink in defeat as he gives in disgracefully.

Oh what Belos’ would say..

Eda seemed a bit taken back.

“A-Alright”

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

#the golden scarred #the golden guard #toh #the owl house #the owl lady #eda the owl lady #eda #hunter #hunter toh

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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No one should of trusted RWBY+ with fucking anything, let alone saving the world (LIKE REN SAID THEY SHOULDN’T BE MAKING DECISIONS ON) and now look. Two cities destroy, millions dead or homeless, and Salem half-way to completing her goal that might get everyone killed. Yeah, Ozpin totally should apologize for not trusting these idiots.

At the very least the story might have pulled some plot strings to "prove" that Ozpin should have trusted them from the start. Like with Oscar succeeding with Hazel. We know that success required him to go OOC and that in a story with more consistent characterization/realistic reactions from its cast, Oscar would have definitely failed... but that doesn't erase the fact that he didn't. No matter how badly executed, the story essentially argues, "Oscar was right to trust Hazel because look, Hazel helped him" and we might have gotten something similar with the group: "Ozpin was wrong to mistrust them because look, when they learned the truth everything got better."

But, uh... things got so much worse.

The group drove Ozpin away rather than proving that they were actually different from everyone else who learned about Salem. Then they nearly lost the Relic at the farm. They tested the fragile trust between the kingdoms by stealing from Atlas and in doing so got a Leviathan to attack a city. Then they lied to Ironwood - the exact thing Ozpin supposedly shouldn't have done to them. They actively divided their allies - you know, the thing Salem wants. Not splitting the group to complete two separate tasks, Ruby - by turning on the Ace Ops and Ironwood. Ruby told everyone about Salem, which realistically should have caused massive grimm attacks across the entire world. They lost the Relic because they never bothered to put it in the vault. They also ended up losing the last question because of that. They lost the Staff because they stupidly took it out of the vault. Their Maiden was killed, again. An entire populace is displaced and currently getting picked off by grimm. They knowingly, willingly, and deliberately destroyed an entire kingdom when they didn't have to.

Oh, and then five out of ten “died.” If there was any part of Ozpin that held back out of worry for their safety, that’s been proven correct too. They weren’t strong enough, or smart enough to survive this war. Within just a few months they were (we’re meant to believe) killed.

Putting aside, for the moment, that a story needs conflict and failure on the part of its protagonists, everything that has happened since Volume 6, to my mind, proves Ozpin right. Not just in terms of "Wow, when I tell people about Salem they hurt and betray me" but also "Wow, somehow I don't think this group of teenagers with one year of training is ready to be the linchpin of this war." Because that's what they wanted by demanding every secret: to be at the very center of the fight, to be making the tough calls, to play at being the world's hero. The problem is, their idea of a hero is still someone who fixes everything with an epic punch to the face. When that fails... they crumble. Cue Ruby sitting around in the mansion half the volume. Should Ozpin have trusted his inner circle? It's debatable. Lionheart ran to Salem the second he learned of her immortality, Qrow sunk deeper into his alcoholism and gave up the fight, but Ironwood took it in a stride and kept pushing forward. Theodore we don't know yet. So it's pretty up in the air whether that would have assisted Ozpin, or just made things worse that much faster, but then that's not really the question here. Should he have told the group? Should he have deliberately made these teens generals in this war? The plot says, "Absolutely not." Because when they made themselves the generals through force - stealing the question, lying to Ironwood, defeating the Ace Ops, hijacking Amity - things have consistently gotten worse. Nothing we've seen on screen the last three volumes says, "See? Look how much better things are once Ozpin was forced to trust love and put his faith in this team."

And what slays me is that the show so desperately tries to backtrack on this with the fight between Ren and Yang:

Ren: Are you kidding?! We don’t know the first thing about being Huntsmen. We clearly weren’t ready.

Yang: Were we not ready when we saved Haven? When we took down a Leviathan? We got the Lamp to Atlas.

Ren: And then we lost it! And after that, when we had to make real decisions, we got every single one wrong.

Yang: I’m not going to pretend like we did everything perfectly, but if we’d done nothing, things would be even worse than they are now.

Ren: How could they possibly be worse? We are stuck out here while Salem has the Lamp and Oscar. We’ve got no plan, no army.

Yang: We’ve got the Maiden!

Yang is forced to omit so much information to make the team look good here and Ren is only allowed to point out one (1) thing she omits: "And then we lost it!" Yang fails to mention that they didn't save Haven, Blake's army did. So yeah, one member of the team, but it's not like they got in there and kicked epic ass. Weiss nearly died. The Relic was only saved because Raven decided she didn't want it anymore. The group barely held their own and then won due to good timing and the bad guys taking each other out/changing their minds. They were going to defeat two Maidens? Lucky them one Maiden took the other out and then decided to hand them the Relic.

Took down a leviathan? Funny how she fails to mention that they drew the leviathan there in the first place and that Cordovin's drill is what did it in. Even Ruby's eyes is a single person ability that only works on grimm, not at all useful for the human-based problems Ren is talking about. They got the Lamp to Atlas? Yeah, and then you lost it. Getting it to Atlas is literally meaningless when the villains still managed to steal it, that victory a direct result of the group's stupid decisions. It's like going, "I successfully got water out of the boat" and failing to mention that the boat still sank. Oh, and also you could have plugged the hole at any point and just... didn't. The boat sinking is absolutely on your hands. When pressed just the tinniest bit, all Yang can come up with is that they've still got the Maiden, someone who will be attacked, hacked, and murdered by the end of the volume. Everything else? "but if we’d done nothing, things would be even worse than they are now."

That's a very big claim from someone ignoring all her failures. And of course, soon after this Ren dares to use Jaune's lack of training as an example of how unprepared they are (valid), he gets mad, the duo later tells him to open up more (he literally just did), and then the story drops his anger for a semblance upgrade instead. RWBY banks on us just believing Yang, carried along by everyone - all the way through to Nora - going on about how Very Very Wrong Ren Is - because if you actually consider these themes of trust and ask whether Ozpin was wrong to hold back... there's not a lot to challenge that decision. The go-to argument would be, "The heroes made things better once they knew the truth, ergo, they should have known the truth from the start" but the group has continually made things worse. It's not even a temporary problem anymore. No matter that they'll inevitably win, Atlas is gone. They've done irreversible harm to the world and yeah, they're trying to do good, they're trying, but this isn't the story of some teenagers forced into a conflict and doing what they can with the hand they've been dealt. This is the story of some teenagers who forced their way in, so when things go wrong... that's on them, no matter their intentions. They are now responsible, just as much as Ozpin was responsible. Except the story refuses to admit that, continually positioning Ruby as an innocent child in need of reassurance, not the licensed huntress who stole control from Ozpin, lied her way into a new inner circle, attacked former allies to avoid the consequences of her own actions, and presented herself as the world's savior... only to then cry because she never had a plan to begin with. We've got a fantastic story here about how Ruby wasn't ready, none of her friends were, and their naïve belief that they were the heroes of this tale - running after the White Fang, then Cinder, then Salem herself - has done incredible harm within a delicate, multi-generation war. We might have started telling that story if the group had actually sat with Ren's accusations and admitted their mistakes. Instead, we're left with this ridiculous claim that no matter how bad things get, it's always better than the alternative of the group not being involved at all. Because they're the heroes, remember. Their goodness they provide is, supposedly, inherent. The only problem is we no longer have a plot that supports this claim.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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yuichi-ro · 2 years

Note

the second part to the hunter story;;; god its all he deserves all the love and happiness, pls baby boy. i cannot wait till the next episode i just wanna know whats up with him i hope he is getting the support he needs and deserves 😭

official tested for covid now and quarantined. throat hurts like hell, especially swallowing and coughing is the absolute worst ugh. but the rest is fine so i really shouldn’t complain. have a shit ton of throat stuff now so hopefully i can just pump myself full the next few days and survive.

nothing much else going on, need to find that creative flow again while i struggle w this shiet, in the meantime i just wanna say that kisaki was the cutest fugging kid ever and chubby cheek kisaki owns my entire heart.

i have been spending too much time on pinterest and all these cute comics;;

desperately need more simp kisaki

and bc i like u, have some dad! hanma

hope u and ur fam have a pleasant day!

-🌌momo

biting my nails knowing the next episode will fuck off in the other direction probably and we can all suffer and chew our nails down to literal stumps knowing Hunter is out there alone and freaking out bc Terrace wants us to suffer 😩 also rewatched last weeks episode at the gym today and really just...holy fucking hell we really said racism and genocide and repeated murder ffs

not me when I'm sick fucking slugging back cough medicine and doubling up on cold & flu meds way more often than I'm supposed to. I am not a good sick person I'd rather give birth than have a cold/flu/covid and I'm not even exaggerating. My thoughts are with you babe bc I'm a horrid sick person turned Sanzu level drug addict when I'm sick 😩

i'm sorry but kid Kisaki was so fucking adorable in like the ugliest puppy kinda way?? That's the only way I can explain it?? The middle part and the glasses and being so tiny I just wanted to pinch his cheeks?? Hinata was a fool to pick Takemichi just look at his smooshable face I wanna smoosh him 😤 also not slowly turning my wife into a kisaki fucker so hanma and I can get hitched no problem asdfghjkl

also that comic- HOW SHORT DO PEOPLE THINK OTHERS ARE?? KISAKI IS LIKE FUCKING 5'3" HE IS SO SHORT SO TO BE LEVEL WITH HIS TITTIES YOU'D HAVE TO BE LIKE- LIKE 4'5 CMON FFS LET PEOPLE BE TALL WEAK ASS FANARTS. I only accept shorter y/ns in like, Hanma art or Hakkai art or ig Draken and ish Ran. Fucking hell Kisaki is 5'3...besides that, it's cute I cannot lie

Hanma with a blue Ergo baby 🥺🥺🥺 My son had a blue Ergo baby too but it was light blue but identical to that in every other way 😭 I'm sorry but man owns my heart. This latest chapter he's such a pain in the ass, he's a fool, an utter idiot with a big mouth and barely anything to back it up. I love him. I'll give him a baby. He's a bastard and I love that bastard I'm gonna slap him so fucking hard how dare he just not exist

#legit let my son oversleep by like half an hr with his nap today #to color that fucking manga cap of hanma #and his like three lines were as cringy and stupid as id hope they were #i love this man in all forms and its disgusting #i never even wanted to look at tokyorev and here we are #you all should have warned me about this man so i could avoid it at all costs like a normal person #also have bad rindou feelings idk why #want him to squish my fat and snuggle #cant explain it its disgusting #pls let me just have hunter feelings or something normal #kageyama feelings or atsumu feelings or something #drowning in dumb men feelings instead #oh god theyre all dumb v.v #you be taking care of yourself babe <3 #i need my other kisaki fuckers to stay well so we can fuck kisaki while everyone else has no taste <3 #🌌.♡#three.talks

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

Text

Empires on the Horizon XVI

Jason is a CEO: Part XVI

okay wow it has been a hooottt minute since i’ve updated a multi-chap fic and an even hotter minute since i’ve updated this one. so here’s a recap:

jase and zoe broke up, because she is being forced by her father to marry someone else (who that may be is yet to be revealed). jason has finally had enough and at the insistence of his friends he packs up on a holiday to Panarea (in italy) where he is delightedly shocked to discover Percy Jackson is currently working, and oh no.....would you look at that......the hotel messed up their reservations and now they have to share the same room, and the same bed. lmao they’re dorks.

here’s how the last chapter ended:

“Let’s just stay together? We’re friends. We know each other, we trust each other, and it’ll be less hassle than trying to find a room for either of us.”

“But there’s only one bed?” His brain was short-circuiting.

It shut down altogether when the man before him smirked. “Well i can keep my hands to myself, if you promise to.”

“I-” What is stopping him from saying yes? Why should he say no?

“It’s totally okay if you don’t want to.” Percy’s expression was so gentle, and it turned every weathered rock in Jason to gemstone.

“Yes.” He said firmly. “Let’s share the room.”

It was only when they got back to the hotel did Jason realise they were still holding hands. He wondered if they’d find each other like that in their dreams too. They did.

masterlist; my links

Jason awoke to an arm slung over his waist and soft breaths fanning the bare skin of his back. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing with it the heat that was sure to get unbearable. He thought he’d feel uncomfortable with someone touching him in weather like this but Percy seemed to be cool, and gods did he look cute with his messy black curls, and brown skin that absorbed rays of light and turned it into magic.

They had promised each other that they’d keep to their sides of the bed and refrain from mauling one another in the night, but it seemed like they had gravitated together anyhow. And Percy was certainly a cuddler.

A knock sounded and with groaning realisation he saw the clock on the wall read ten am. They were out later than either of them had realised.

“Jackson,” He nudged the man gently, “I think you need to get up.”

A mumbled response sunk into his skin as soft lips brush against his back. Jason went completely still, the sensation running along his nerves like hot wires.

“You okay?” Another mumble filtered through his delirium.

“I’m fine,” He managed to choke out, “I think we need to get up though. Room service is already here.”

That sparked movement. Suddenly green eyes were wide open, and cheeks, streaked with the creases of the pillow, were red with panic. “What is the time?”

“It’s ten am,” He pointed to the clock.

“Fuck!” Percy practically leaped out of bed and slammed his shoulder into the door frame as he skidded into the bathroom.

Jason heard the shower go on, and an electric toothbrush whirr to life, and then he heard a multitude of curse words, a loud bang and some groans of pain.

“Er,” He should go in there and make sure his friend was still alive. “Jackson?” He stepped into the bathroom and was not at all prepared for the sight that greeted him.

There, tangled in his pants, toothpaste stains on his face, and the shower soaking the bathroom floor was Dr. Percy Jackson.

“Do you need help?”

“This is not how this morning was supposed to go,” The dark-haired man garbled, looking hopelessly at the mess he had created.

Jason hid a smile as he bent down to help tug Percy’s pants off him, “And how was the morning supposed to go.”

Green eyes clashed with his, the toothbrush still whirring in his mouth. “I was supposed to wake up early and order a buffet for breakfast and then as we stuffed ourselves-” he cut off, choking on the toothpaste.

Jason couldn’t hide his amusement, and burst out laughing at Percy’s subsequent glare. Standing up and tossing the pants in the wash basket, he offered his hand to his friend, who took it gratefully before heading to the sink to finish brushing his teeth.

“What were we going to do while we ate?” He asked, leaning against the basin, one leg crossed over the other.

“I was going to feed you maple-covered waffles and answer some emails, and you were going to read that book I know you brought.”

“Are we an old married couple in this scenario?” He quirked a brow, lips twitching.

Percy frowned, stripping off his underwear and stepping into the heat of the shower. “I’m just trying to start our future early.”

Jason watched those glorious back muscles ripple, as water streaked down, but he refused to follow its path, not daring to go lower than the small dip of that spine. He didn’t even know why he was still in the bathroom, why he was being such a creeper, but his feet were superglued to the floor. He couldn’t move even if a crowbar tried to pry him away.

“Are you not agreeing with my vision?” A muffled voice drifted around him.

He attempted to come back to reality but it was proving near impossible. “Uh no-” He stuttered, “I think it’s a solid plan.” His eyes traced the sharp angles of that jaw, and the strong-bridged nose, and black hair matted to beautiful brown skin. He was sure he was dreaming. There could be no other explanation for the surrealness of the moment.

“Jase?” Percy touched his arm gently, skin hot from the shower. “You okay?”

He startled into the world so fast he felt dizzy. Where on earth had he gone? To another dimension it seemed. “Oh gods i’m so sorry,” He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I just watched you shower like a complete pervert.”

His friend smirked, and then he was laughing. “Who says i didn’t enjoy it?”

The blush that raced across his skin was enough to dull rubies. He didn’t know where to look, or how to breathe, or what he was made of. He was simply an untied balloon barreling towards the nearest thorn bush. “You,” He managed to choke, “Are going to be the death of me doctor.”

“Good,” He heard the smirk like violins, “Maybe then I won't feel like I'm falling straight to the bottom of the ocean all by myself.”

Jason peeked through his fingers, watching as Percy finished up and flitted around the room, trying to still the heart that threatened to beat out his rib cage and into a drum set. It was an ache in his chest, how much he felt for this man. How much he wanted him.

“So i’m going to be in and out for the next few days but i’m going to work my butt off so i can have Thursday and Friday off. I’m sorry for being a terrible roommate but i don’t think i’ll make meals until then.” He could see the regret in the doctor’s eyes, turning that vibrant green a shade like dying leaves.

“No,” He shook his head, “Seriously it’s not a problem. You do what you have to.” He couldn’t believe his friend felt bad for leaving him, when they hadn’t even known they’d be here together. It said enough about Percy's character that Jason was trying very hard not to bundle the man up in blankets and kiss his cheeks until the guilt of the past stopped carving valleys between his brows. Instead he hugged him, accidentally letting his lips brush against Percy's neck, just above his collar as he pulled away. Accidentally. The squeeze at his waist let him know his accident was well received.

“Goodbye Jackson.” He smiled as he watched the doctor race down the hall. A ringed wave was the response before he disappeared around the corner.

Jason closed the door, leaning against it with an expression made from coffee foam and whipped cream. He couldn't imagine a morning as peaceful as that one, not in days, months, years? With a satisfied sigh he flopped back into bed, inhaling the ocean scent of Percy that lingered across the sheets like cool waters on a summer evening. The plan for the day was that there was no plan. Thalia had chosen well by booking this little place. He wouldn’t be distracted by touristy things ergo he couldn’t possibly do anything else but relax. So he snuggled into the pillows and stared at the ceiling and fell half asleep and listened to the wind and felt the heat creep across his skin and he just let himself be.

His thoughts were as wild as the tides and sometimes they spilled like ocean water across his cheeks. But then he’d drift off to a dream and wake up to the sound of people laughing and cars sputtering and footsteps stomping past his door and all of a sudden nothing felt too far away.

He was sad. He was sad enough to wonder if sadness was all he knew. His ex boyfriend, who he had loved like stars loved darkness, had broken down his dream and rebuilt it as a nightmare. He managed to wake up. His girlfriend, who he could have loved given time, had tied all the fraying parts of his heart to the wheel of a car and pressed accelerate. He managed to cut himself free. His girlfriend, who he had loved outright and bold, had danced him to the edge of a cliff and left him with one foot already going over. Had he managed to catch himself before reaching the bottom?

It was a question that kept him occupied through the day. Through the breakfast he ate slowly. Through the sleep he found restlessly when his mind wouldn’t focus on the book he’d brought. Through the very late lunch he gobbled down like his stomach would start a rebellion if it didn’t get it’s due. Through the golden sunset he sat at the window and watched.

But it was finally when he sunk to the floor of the shower, letting the water hit his back like welcome rain, that he had an answer; and with it the question of “What came next?” That answer, he knew, would come later. Clear and bright and ready to be grabbed with teeth and hands and love.

So he finished his shower, and changed into loose cotton pants and a shirt that he didn’t bother to button. A walk on the beach didn’t require formality.

The sand was soft on his feet, different to the way New York beaches felt. And the ocean was a richer blue, as if he were being introduced to colour for the first time and this was how water was supposed to look. He supposed places like this weren’t called paradise on earth for nothing. The last dregs of sunlight skittered across the water, as if playing with it. His fingers itched to paint the scene but with nothing but the sand at his fingertips he simply took in the view, and let his mind form the painting he couldn’t.

The air was cooler here, not as sticky, but that didn’t mean the heat wasn’t ever present, scorching the sand like coal hearths. His feet would be blistered if it weren’t so late into the evening. Any earlier and he may have been hopping around like a scared crab. The image was enough to make him giggle to himself. It’s a sound he misses, and one he loved enough to leave him smiling.

“Care to share, comedian?” A smooth voice called from behind him.

He turned around, whipped faster than the wind, to see Percy walking towards him, a grin on his handsome face.

“I was picturing myself as a scared crab.”

Dark eyebrows raised in confusion, before rich laughter burst into the air. Jason swore it turned the night into magic. “Maybe I should have left you in peace.” The doctor shook his head.

“Who says you’re disrupting it?” He tilted his head, before starting on his walk once more.

He didn’t see the look that crossed his friend’s face, like comfort turned to being.

“What did you do today?”

“Self reflection,” He said into the air, into the world, into himself. “How about you?”

“Oh you know, a little lab work here, a little analysis there.” Percy shrugged.

“Tell me more,” He prompted.

The look of surprise on his friend’s face made him want to throttle anyone who’s ever stopped this man from talking.

“You sure?” It was hesitant, it was heartbreaking.

“I can’t promise to understand everything so I may have questions but if you’re willing to indulge me I want to hear all about it.”

With a look that spoke of worlds beyond their comprehension Percy launched into a detailed play-by-play of his day. He answered every question with patience and sparkling eyes, and there were many questions. By the time they got back to their hotel the crescent moon was their only source of light in the inky blackness of the sky and his stomach was growling enough that he knew he couldn’t afford to snack for supper.

“Want to go to the restaurant for dinner?” He tilted his head to the opposite side of the lobby where grand doors opened and closed periodically.

“I uh,” His friend winced, “I have some work today so i’m going to head to the room.”

“Okay,” He shrugged smiling, “I’ll meet you up there later.”

“Uh yea,” Percy’s face held an expression he didn’t quite know how to interpret. “See you then.”

“Want me to bring something up for you?”

“No, no, don’t worry about me.” Black curls bounced as he shook his head.

They parted ways, Jason only slightly confused by the weird turn his friend’s mood took, and decided he’d bring back a chocolate brownie if nothing else.

As he sat down at a table, observing the grand balustrades and curtained windows he felt suddenly alone. It wasn’t a feeling he let himself be consumed by but just the fact that it was there had him reaching for his phone. With a few taps he was calling Leo, knowing it’d be early morning for them.

“Hello,” A cheery voice crackled through his earphone. It was enough to settle all the worried nerves hidden between his ribcage.

Their conversation was bright and energetic, Leo being a morning person; he even got a few grunts out of Annabeth, who was decidedly not. Everything was okay with his company and more importantly his friends were fine.

“I found a person we know here,” He mumbled, trying to keep his voice and excitement quiet.

“Who?” Leo was practically vibrating. Even Annabeth looked at the camera with blurry eyed curiosity.

“Uh Percy.” He scratched the back of his neck, shyness crawling across his skin.

“Oh,” His friend’s eyes widened. “What is he doing there?”

“Work,” This was fine. This was safe. Nobody was jumping to any conclusions.

“Are you sure you didn’t run away to get married?”

And there went all his hope of having reasonable friends. “No!” He hissed. “And besides I didn't run away, you guys forced me to go.”

“Well it’s done you good. I can finally see some colour in those pasty cheeks.” Brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

Before Jason could respond another call was interrupting. “Zoe Nightshade” flashed across the screen.

“Uh Leo,” He frowned at his phone. “I’ll call you back.”

“Everything okay?” He heard the worry like tv static.

“I hope so.” The furrow between his brows didn’t disappear.

And then he hung up on his best friend and answered the other call.

“Oh Jason,” Relief flooded in his ear like water in a drought. “Thank you for answering.” The smooth voice of his ex-girlfriend reached him.

“Zoe,” His nerves were bow-string taught. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”

“I need your help.” She answered. She sounded desperate. “I can’t marry Octavian.”

Jason Grace nearly falls off the cliff.

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

Tags (if you want to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know. All my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leyontheway

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

@legendary-cupcake

@larrikin-is-a-himbo

#empires on the horizon #part 16 #pjjg fanfic #pjjg series #jercy #jercy fanfic #jason grace #percy jackson #grace #percy #jackson #jason #i loved searching for moodboard images for this one #i got to stare at muscles and hands for hooouurrrssss

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years

Text

JIKOOK MMA 2020- COMMENTARY

Disclaimer: This is a commentary, not an expert analysis. I am not a ballerina. LTRS.

Let's all agree right here, right now, that if ever a moment deserve to be immortalized for all eternity, that it is this moment right here: the moment Jungkook lifts Jimin off the ground- it is the most super iconic IT moment of the year as far as shipping goes. Damn, was it beautiful. Goddamn!

Personally, I had so many flashbacks of unchartered fantasies, hopes and dreams- the least delusional of which is JK saying with a deep voice, after lifting JM off the ground, 'would you marry me please' and Jimin, shook out of his wits would respond in Satoori, 'we are already married, you idiot. Now put me down!' Lol.

What? A girl can dream... Leave me alone. Lol

A lot has been said of this dance and so I won't rumble on for long. I'm just gonna focus on the moments that stood out for me:

The first of which would be the build up to that performance- BigHit, you sneaky conglomerate bastard! Lol.

Y'all saw what they did there right? For weeks I have been bombarded with questions about the seemingly 'tensions' between Jikook- everyone was slipping me the 'something is up with Jikook' pill but chilee, I look at them and all I could see was Jikook up in their shenanigans. Lol

I think I mentioned this in a previous post? Anywho. I think the thing that most of us was experiencing with Jikook was the unnecessary 'limited' interactions between them in the recent content we had been getting post Jimin's birthday but regardless, there were still moments of them 'giving themselves away' like in the Grammy reaction video when Jimin instinctively turned to JK in his moment of excitement.

His hesitation was worrying though, because normally he wouldn't- they wouldn't, hesitate to hug the person that they want to hug in their moments of emotional outbursts unless something was hindering them.

Ergo, I felt, if he was hesitating, then clearly it meant there was something holding him back or stressing their dynamic- I think I've definitely talked about this right? Instinctual reactions and all that jazz?

It didn't feel like he was having problems with Kook though, honestly. Because, in spite of all these little inconsistent moments of 'tensions' between them, Jimin for the most part has been giving me the vibe he is falling in love all over again with Kook- Dont ask me why. Lol. This is just gonna be one of those statements I make in passing. Take note of it though, I'll talk about it again soon.

But from the little I've seen post Jimin's birthday, that's the vibe I'm getting. If you believe Jimin is in love with Kook and you have an idea of when he started falling in love with Kook in their love Journey, then I think you'd catch the signs too? If not, never mind. Lol.

Every now and then, I see him go through this phase- in my opinion. I can't wait to talk about it. And yes, it is what I meant when I said Jikook's dynamics seem to have flipped again lately. Time to turn on the crazy. Lol.

These minimum interactions between Jikook however, to me, felt more as if they were being 'monitored' or asked to 'tone things down' by the company or something rather than that they were having actual issues in their relationship- know what I mean?

For the love of me, I couldn't figure out why the company would ask them to tone things down... Until the blackswan performance.

I feel somehow that the lack of content and moments between Jikook in recent times, coupled with the seemingly faux tensions between them prior to their performance at the MMAs, without question, contributed to the wow factor of their performance. In my opinion- but stay with me.

BigHit ain't slick. Lol.

It's so on brand for them though, isn't it? Demand and supply and all that jazz. Chilee. Scarcity inflates the value of a product. I mean we've seen JK lift and carry Jimin in their dance performances several times now yet we can't deny this came as a shock and surprise for us all because we had zero idea what was 'going on between Jikook' behind the cameras- straight up Jedi mind trick. Lol.

Not to say the performance itself wasn't spectacular in of its own. I'd be mad damn liar and a fool if I peddled that nonsense anywhere. Lol.

I just want to point out how BigHit utilizes and taps Jikook's brand and magic in their business model, as this provides a stark contrast against BTS's marketing strategy for their self produced Album Be.

I tried explaining in my LGO analysis, how that project was a personal project of BTS' as a group and how as a group they had their own perception of brand and what sells- or who sells amongst them, as such they weren't going to and didn't star Jikook in that project as front and center.

Contrasting that project to this project, which is more of a BigHit piloted project rather than a personal project of the group's, you can see how Jikook's brand stands out and how it is being highlighted or even exploited for maximum return.

This is what I mean when I say Jikook is a brand. A powerful brand at that and that BigHit has a stake in their brand.

Jikook once again, overshadowed and dare I say, over powered BTS's own brand in that Blackswan performance- chileee, that performance was so Jikookcentric I forgot the others were even there. Lol.

I mean I saw NamJin jump in the foreground somewhere... I'm gonna get canceled am I not? Lmho.

VHope were powerful too. But I couldn't help but notice how neither of those individuals could have sold it the way JK did, had they been in his shoes. V and Hobi both have stamina and presence, yet for some reason I just can't picture either of them lifting Jimin up and spinning him the way JK did and does- not that they can't...

It's just, they take the spotlight too. Jimin is captivating when he dances- or does anything quiet frankly. And usually, he shines under the spotlight when there is undivided attention on him.

When he is paired with Hobi, V or even Suga, very often they act as distractions as they tend to compete with him for the viewer's attention and as such they don't necessarily compliment him. In my opinion.

Often too, when he is paired with RM or Jin, he tends to outshine them and make them look like rookies- Namjin... bless their hearts. Lol.

Kookie is the only member in the group that I feel compliments Jimin- well. Not that he isn't a great dancer too like Hobi or V, it's just whenever he is paired with Jimin in a performance he has the tendency to waive his spotlight and cede it to Jimin by letting go off his own shine and spotlight as well as his competitive spirit so Jimin can be highlighted.

It's why he is the perfect partner for Jimin and the perfect choice for this role in their duet. I think. He pulled it off guys. He PULLED IT OFF-chef's kiss JK. Chef's fucking kiss! Lol.

JK often talks about how he prefers to 'be behind the cameras,' how he often films the members but doesn't like being filmed or being in the spotlight and you see this in his GCFs where he takes the back bench and allows Jimin or even the others to dally in front of the camera.

I don't know if he is aware he does this in his dance too- because for the longest time critics often commented on his stage presence or lack of it there off- their words not mine...

Frankly, I never saw it that way. Because, paired with any other member, he squares up. Chilee. Lmho.

It's one thing to look great next to your partner, it's another to look great together next to eachother and Jikook looked great together in that moment- just exquisite and outstandingly beautiful.

The point of the black swan dance as RM had said in their blackswan Film reaction video, is not to highlight all seven but one- Jimin and that is exactly what JK did on that stage.

Jimin I felt wasn't as intense as he often is in his solo performances. He is brutal in the way he captures attention when he performs alone on a stage. His aura is demanding and alluring and if you can tear your eyes away from him when he is in the height of his performances then- share your magic formula you lucky bastard. Free us all from Jimin's hold. HELP! Lol.

But for some reason, in this performance, he wasn't lost in himself in the moment. It took me a while to understand what was happening-he was equally relinquishing his shine so Kook could share the spotlight with him- please, leave me here to die.

They each compete against the members when they perform with them on a stage, but they never seem to compete against eachother. They move in awareness of eachother and lift eachother up. They enhance eachother's presence and when they collide it's harmonious. This is what we mean when we say Jikook compliment eachother- nobody is doing it like them.

They were both powerful in their strides, graceful in their descent. They did it. They killed it.

Signed,

GOLDY

#Jikook #goldy analysis #goldy blogs #jikooktheories #jikook analysis #jikook scenarios

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stillebesat · 4 years

Text

Scales (5/7)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Deceit, Virgil, Roman, Patton Blurb: Deceit hadn’t expected his absence from the Mindscape to be noticed by the others…until Logic knocked on his door. Fic Type: General Warnings: Shedding (snake style), Minor Injuries, Minor Pain, Touch Starvation, Death Talk Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

His scales?

But...but HOW?!

Deceit shot to his feet before Logan could stop him, growling under his breath as his vision briefly blurred, but he couldn’t just sit still for this! “That’s impossible. HOW?!” He stumbled away from the others as Logic reached for him, instead heading to the window, wishing the sun was up so he could at least feel its heat through the glass.

“Kiddo,” Patton had also moved to his feet, hands outstretched. “Perhaps you should sit back dow--”

“But it doesn’t make sense! Nothing’s changed!” Deceit ignored Morality’s advice, continuing to shakily pace the floor. “My scales have never changed like that before! They should still be snake scales! They’ve always been--”

He flinched at the electric touch lightly wrapping around his left wrist, forcing him to stop before he antagonized the scales there. He jerked his head up, wobbling as he struggled to breathe, his human eye focusing on Anxiety.

“It’s obvious what’s going on isn’t it?” Virgil said, the shadows under his eyes pitch black. “It’s because you’ve been--”

Deceit hissed, going stiff. “Don’t you dare say accepted.” Just because they considered him to be Fa--Family didn’t mean that--that Thomas--He was a DARK SIDE for crying out loud! A BAD GUY. You don’t get accepted for being that after a simple name reveal!

...Right?

Virgil huffed, letting go. “When did you last shed? Before or after you told us we could call you Lyal?”

Deceit gritted his teeth lightly brushing his wrist to ensure the shed there was alright. It wasn’t like he could lie though, Logan already knew the answer. “...Before.”

“And what changed afterwards?” Roman asked, a small smile playing on his lips, his eyes nearly glowing like they did whenever his Creativity was sparked.

Deceit looked away. “You...invited me--”

“To dinner!” Patton said, clapping his hands together. “We started including you more.”

“And you said yourself that you experience changes in your shed when Thomas is experiencing a period of growth himself and we are all a part of Thomas are we not?” Logan asked, resting a hand on Deceit’s non-scaled shoulder. “Ergo, Thomas is growing to accept you because we are including you. It is a major change, Lyal.”

“But...dragon scales?” He whispered, allowing his shaky legs to collapse him to the floor. He half curled in a ball as Logan knelt with him. “I--I---” It was too much. It couldn’t---he couldn’t!

“They’re not all bad you know. I mean…It probably doesn’t mean much coming from me since I...well...fight them.” Roman said, carefully brushing Deceit’s scaled cheek with his fingers, leaving burning fire in their wake. “But she--the Dragon Witch--she does have her moments of...of being okay on occasion and you’re-” He gently rubbed his thumb under Deceit’s unblinking eye. “Probably more like Toothless than Smaug.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Toothless? But Lyal obviously still has all his tee--”

“He means Dee’s like the Dragon named Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon, L.” Virgil interrupted. “With how he appears all dangerous at first...but turns out to be--”

No, no no! Deceit did not like where this metaphor was going. He bared his teeth, raising his human hand, ready to grab at the air though that hand had never been as good as his scaled one in silencing the others. “Call me soft and or cute Annie, and you’ll--”

“Not be making threats right now, LyLy.” Patton scolded, shaking a bright yellow finger in front of his scaled eye. “We need to solve one problem, not cause more.”

“Agreed.” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “Which means, we need to listen to Roman in order to help you. If your scales have changed to dragon scales then by all means he would know best on how to have us help you.”

“Us.” Deceit echoed faintly, dropping his hand “But--”

“We’re family.” Logan said, his eyes glittering with careful humor as Deceit made a face.

They really needed to stop using that word in relation to him. He wasn’t--

“And FamILY sticks together!” Patton declared. “Ro, how do you help the Dragon Witch? What do we need to do for Ly?”

“But what if this is wrong?! What if it--” Deceit drew in a shuddering breath, ducking his head. “It could go wrong.” He whispered, leaning into Logan. “You don’t know--I’m not a Dragon Witch, I can’t--”

“Lyal.”

Despite himself, the tone of Roman’s voice had Deceit looking to the Creative Side as he placed a hand on his heart, holding his other one out to him.

“On my honor as a Prince and as Thomas’s Creativity, I promise, you won’t be harmed.” Roman offered him a smile that was softer, somehow more vulnerable than he’d seen on the Creative Side before. “I know what I’m doing.”

How could he promise that?! They were going off the assumption that Deceit’s scales worked in the same way as a figment in the Imagination! It wasn’t going to--

“After all…” Roman pulled back his hand to run his fingers through his hair, messing up the princey styling as he fidgeted in place. “I did...I did base her off you--you know--since--well you are--were? A bad guy.”

Patton gasped, eyes going wide. “You did?!”

Roman flushed, “I was twelve okay? I was mad at Fibber on the Roof here for something I can’t even remember now so I--I created--her based off of you, but I didn’t know that you had snake scales and dragons were so much cooler! So--so there has to be some truth to your scales working the same way as hers.” Roman offered him a shaky smile. “Right?”

Deceit opened his mouth to deny it, but he didn’t know what to say. Hadn’t his own words confirmed his scales were no longer snake ones? Hadn’t his room had betrayed him in the humidity not helping him? And Creativity--Roman was confident about this...this dragon process.

But what if it all went WRONG?! What if he lost his hand because of this! Or his eye?! He was already a freak among them. He was already--

“How about a small test.” Logan offered into the silence as Deceit continued to hesitate. “Perhaps a small spot on your shoul--”

“NO.” Deceit drew in a shuddering breath as the others stiffened. “I--I mean--yes.” He had to get the shed off somehow. “To the test. But not there. Not my arm.”

He needed his arm and if this didn’t work he didn’t want to chance losing any mobility there that he hadn’t already possibly lost. “Ro--” He swallowed over the lump of terror stuck in his throat. “Roman can--try it here.” He pushed away from Logan, though the Logical Side refused to fully release him, and gestured to his side, holding his arm out and away to give Creativity access to the area. No one ever saw him shirtless anyways, so if--if this didn’t work, it wouldn’t be a big deal to have the scales be malformed there.

“I can work with that.” Roman offered him a more confident smile as he snapped his fingers and held out his hand, a pile of opalescent dust appearing in his palm. “Usually the Dragon Witch just buries herself first and I help out later, but overall it’s a simple process for a little test.” He said. “I just press this against your side--”

“This being?” Virgil asked, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“Volcanic ash.” Roman said. “It draws out the moisture from the shed. Once it’s dry and flaky, we use some brushes to remove it and then a cloth with some mineral oil to shine the new scales right up. Easy.”

Easy enough. Deceit drew in a shaky breath, closing his human eye though his snake one remained fixed on Roman’s brightly burning hand as it neared his side. He really hoped this would work. “Do it.”

“Gently.” Logan cautioned, shifting his position so he was fully behind Deceit. A slight pressure on his shoulders urging him to lean back against his chest.

Patton took Deceit’s human hand squeezing it. “You’re gonna be okay, LyLy.” He whispered.

Still. Deceit couldn’t help but flinch as Roman pressed the dust against his side, near his navel, his breath hitching at the warmth emanating from the spot. Much warmer than he expected it to feel.

Virgil’s vibrant heat signature leaned forward. “How long does it take to know if it’s working?”

“Not long.” Roman reassured him. “Give it a minute.”

A minute. Deceit opened his human eye staring down at the spot, trying to ignore how hard his heart was pounding, how tightly he was squeezing Patton’s hand. A minute to know when it had taken him six days to realize something was wrong. A minute to discover if this volcanic ash would help him or--he didn’t want to think of the or.

“And--” Roman relaxed his hand, allowing the ash to fall away from the shed and onto the carpet.

Deceit made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he released Patton’s hand to gingerly touch the spot, warm now from the pressure Roman had placed on it, but no longer was the same shade of sickly green as the rest of his shed. Instead it had blackened like burned timber.

Was that good? Was it bad? While it did feel unnaturally warmer, the spot wasn’t itching like past shed periods to indicate that it was ready. So this had to be bad. The scales had o be ruined there now! It hadn’t worked! IT HADN--”

“Dee.” Virgil’s voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts, causing him to look up.

Anxiety’s eyeshadow had darkened again, to the same shade as the spot as he pulled Deceit’s hand away from his side. “Breathe.”

BREATHE? Deceit inhaled raggedly, clutching at Annie as Roman quickly brought a small currying brush up to his burning side, gently massaging the spot in small circles.

“That’s normal, Lion King. I promise. The skin always gets darker, the Ash--it makes it darker. It’s fine. It’s fine. I promise. It’s normal.” Creativity said as flakes of skin fell away under his careful movements.

Deceit tensed, pressing against Logan, a soft hiss escaping him as he watched Roman work. This hardly felt normal. It felt all WRONG! Normally the shed just...peeled off. It didn’t flake like this!

“Nothing’s gone wrong, Lyal. It’s working exactly like it does for the Dragon Witch.” Roman continued to reassure him, flashing him a smile as the brush changed to a cloth that he carefully rubbed along the spot. “See?” He pulled away, revealing a set of brand new scales gleaming under the light.

To Be Continued Chapter 5

#Scales #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Deceit #Logan #Roman #Virgil #Patton #Logic #Creativity #Anxiety #Morality #shedding tw #minor injuries tw #minor pain tw #touch starvation tw #death talk tw

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Age of Reason, Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Supernatural AU

The looming wrought-iron glares down at him; even choked with briars, it stands as proud as any guard, denying him entrance with a glance. She’d gotten in, she said, and out again even quicker. It’s possible. He just has to find the way.

His shoulders twitch, unimpressed.There’s a reason he wears gloves.

One hand wraps around a twisted bar, and a briar pierces through the leather like it’s paper. He recoils with a hiss, and to his extreme displeasure, the needle comes with him, broken right off near the glove.

He’s had worse splinters-- hell, he’s had worse stabs, but the thing’s hard to find even with the moonlight behind him. His head and shoulders keep falling into the worst angle, casting shadows shadows no matter which way he turns, leaving him to work half blind as he tries to pull it out. It makes it worse of course, each movement of his muscles sends the thing dancing around his palm, probing deeper into his flesh until he tears it out.

These damned gloves are supposed to protect him, but blood coats them still, shimmering black in the moonlight. He gives them a real contemplative look, some real consideration, and then cusses a streak so blue fire would be jealous. Damn that woman. If she’d gotten in, she owes him the professional courtesy of telling him how. He has half a mind to stomp right back to that tavern and shake her till she spills her secrets.

He takes a breath, holds it. It’s fine. This is far from the worst job he’s ever done.

The thing slides across the packed dirt, sand and scree skittering beneath its bare skin. It’s a woman in shape, diaphanous nightrail clinging so scandalously to its curves that wives clap hands over wandering eyes. She would have been a pretty girl in life, but in her undeath, she makes more than a convincing monster.

He stands in the holy circle of the Heavenly Maiden, salt staining his hands, and it hisses at him, back arched like a cat’s. Red stains its front, dribbling from full lips down to soak her gown.

“Kurei!” The name catches on the wind, already torn away. The mayor clutches at his door, lifting a hand to point through his wards. “It’s her-- the demon--”

“I know.” It’s an effort to lift the words out of a deadpan. “She’s no match for me.”

The spirit cocks its head; he knows that angle too well, the one that says, oh you think so? He lifts his shoulders, a subtle shrug. No hard feelings.

Her claws clench in the dirt. Ah, he’ll pay for that little line later. Already he’s at a disadvantage-- a full moon might have shone through, but with a chunk shaved from one side he’s stuck waiting for the wind to hurry it all along while he stands here, stalling.

His breath mists in the night air. Just one of the hazards of the job.

“You’re trapped in here with me, spirit.” In the dark, its hair is coarse, thick and black, rippling with each breath. The perfect hand-hold, should it dare tread close enough. “Your fight is with me!”

He grins as it growls, edging around his circle of salt. It follows, mimicking his movements, it on all fours and him on the balls of his feet. Already his cheek stings-- its limbs are long and strong but he didn’t expect the elbow to be so sharp-- but he doesn’t lift a hand to rub at it. Each moment here is the space between victory and condemnation, and he has none of them to spare.

Finally, the clouds part.

“I have you, beast!” Around him, the circle flares to life, the pure light of the heavens infusing it, glowing with an intensity would blind to those outside it. “Tempus fugit! Sapere aude! Ad meliora!”

For a moment its body leaps into the air, lunging for him, trying to tear his throat, but in the next it’s thrown to the ground, as if grabbed by heaven’s hand itself. With his last words still echoing in the square, the spirit spasms, voice railing to an unholy keen.

“Erat ergo sum! Quid pro quo!” He calls out, shaking holy water over it, black and red spotting her as he washes away its monstrous desires. “Non ducor duco!”

It gives a single, great heave of its body, and suddenly she’s limp, no longer a vengeful spirit but a girl once more. A mere husk that once held life. Mist rises from the circle as he lifts her body, curling coolly around his fingers.

“Caveat.” The night carrying his voice further than any earthy words should-- “Emptor.”

The villagers all peer out their windows, the more daring of them peeking out doors. Now that the danger’s over, everyone wants to see the monster hunter and his prey. He’s heard plenty talk about the noble nature of man, but none of them know the truth-- when fear strips away all else, it’s only cowardice and curiosity that remain.

“Kurei,” creaks the mayor. “What--?”

“It’s over,” he announces. “I must bring the corpse away from here, and bury it.” With a dark look, he adds, “Alone.”

He turns his back on them, letting the moon burn away the mist he leaves behind.

The barmaid here is all curves, coarse tawny hair tumbling down her back, meant to draw the eye straight to her swinging hips. A tempting morsel; at least by the way the men here follow her with their gaze, hungry for more than ale. The barman must have tripled his profits having a girl like her on; there’s no limit to drink a man can have while he’s thirsting with his eyes.

But not Shuuka. His stare is fixed right across the table, brows drawn tight in thought. “That’s some story, mister.”

“And all true.” He waits until the man takes a good, long draught from his cup to add, “I earn my keep traveling, finding spirits to soothe and monsters to cull. Or maidens to save, when the situation demands it.”

“Just maidens?” The barmaid sidles up to him, a frothing mug in hand, and already his mouth is watering. “Or are you looking to expand your repertoire?”

He lets his lips lilt into a leer. “I’m willing to help with any problem that needs solving, maiden or--” he lets his gaze rake up her-- “otherwise. Provided I’m welcome.”

Her own mouth is a mirror of his own. “You seem the sort to always be finding doors open, if you don’t mind me saying, mister.”

“Ah.” He hums, leaning close. The other men in the pub lean in too, faces ripe with envy. “That’s the trick of it-- I wait to be asked.”

Amusement flickers through her eyes, as amber as his own. She sets the mug in front of him, its thick head sloshing over the rim. “Here you are, on the house.”

The maid casts one last, linger look over at him, all hooded. The sort that says he could find more than a drink on the house if he played his cards right. And here’s him, a man who never lost a hand.

“So that’s what brings you here?” Shuuka says, voice tight. Nerves, he thinks, the sort a rational man might have in the face of the unknown. “Sh-- the prince’s mistress?”

Ah, or maybe that’s guilt, he’s hearing. “So it’s true, then? There’s a girl sleeping in that manor house?”

Shuuka’s fingers clench, knuckles white where they lay on the table. “If it was...?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, just waits.

Dark eyes lift, glimmering as they meet his. “You could do something about it?”

He lets his mouth ease, swallowing down the victory in his throat. “I can’t do anything that would hurt.”

For a long moment, Shuuka sits still. Not the sort that comes from fear or hope but indecision. A man on a precipice.

And oh, how easy it is to see when they jump. “What’s your name? What do they...” He hesitates, swallowing. “What do they call you?”

“Lots of things. Jack of all trades, for one,” he hums, settling back in his seat. “Monster Hunter. Miracle Man. Savior.”

Shuuka’s brow draws tight. “You’re some kind of...priest?”

“Oh, no.” He lets his eyes linger when the barmaid bends at the waist, leaning over the counter to talk to the barman. “Not that. But you can call me...Nanaki.”

There’s a tree.

He surveys the old gnarled grandfather, its thinning leaves rustling in the wind, a single branch hunched over the briars. He should have guessed; it wasn’t like she was going to get her hands dirty and bleeding to take a look at a dead girl.

His hands flex, the leather around them creaking. His palm aches when he presses it to the trunk-- that’ll teach him to get impatient-- but he knows how to climb without relying on his grip. It’s nothing to shimmy right up, soles planted solid on grandfather’s inquisitive arm. He’d call this sloppy-- nobles often were, thinking that guards and dogs and a lady’s scream could keep them safe-- but...

Ten years. Plenty of time for even a well-trimmed tree to insinuate an elbow where it didn’t belong. Especially one that looked as nosy as this old grandfather did.

He edges out, the branch solid beneath his feet. Each step is inquisitive; impatient he may be, but enough tumbles from too high had taught him the value of respecting nature’s limit. The last thing he needs is for this to break over one of those fleur-tipped spears. Career limiting, his old master used to tell him, followed by one of those hideous braying laughs.

Dead was his preference. He might make his money putting on a show, but it didn’t serve to forget that some finales were final.

The branch bows beneath his feet, those iron-tips scraping at its bottom. Looks like he’s ridden this particular pony as far as it’ll go. With a breath and a wish, he leapt from the tree, tumbling down, down--

His feet catch, hard earth beneath them. No, stone, since his foot slips, nearly spilling him straight into a knot of brambles. Pretty ones, at least, dripping with roses as bright as an apple’s skin.

He whistles, plucking a petal off one. “Well now,” he breathes, letting it flutter away in the wind. “Isn’t that lucky.”

Cat calls and wolf whistles cleave through the din when the barmaid wraps her fingers around his wrist, leading him away from the table. There’s glares too, envy making eyes dark as he passes. There will be men who hate him in the morning for no other reason than he had what they couldn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Fine by him, anyway. Angry men are easy to predict-- they only want to do what will cause the most pain. It’s the ones that cheer him on that are dangerous; they need to be courted, molded.

Shuuka is neither. Curious.

“Hey, hero,” the barmaid purrs, pressing her body against his. “Keep your eyes where they belong.”

By the swing of her hips, she means on her. Well, it’s certainly not a bad view.

She sashays up those last few steps, shoving him into a room--

Torou’s smile is gone the moment the latch catches. “You are on your own with this one. I am out.”

Leaving Oberwald takes an extra day; the villagers keep him plied with ale until he tumbles into bed. When he wakes while the sky’s still moonless and dark, two sets of hands rubbing down his chest. Who is he to deny himself a reward so justly earned?

Still, waiting makes the spirits restless.

“Serves you right,” he grouses, rubbing at the new lump dulling the sharp edge of his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to make it look good, not actually hit me!”

The spirit folds her arms across her chest-- or under it, rather, framing their best asset when it comes to fooling these bumpkins. A barmaid with big tits never fails to turn heads, and should someone get suspicious of the girl who disappears when the evil spirit does, well-- no one can pick her face from a crowd.

“Oh, complain, complain.” The huff she lets out doesn’t even have a hint of remorse. “I’m sure you got those village girls to kiss it all better.”

He can’t help his grin. “Two of ‘em.”

“Ugh.” Her eyes roll, the kohl still clinging to the corner of them. It’s the most stubborn part of the makeup, but Torou makes do; by the next town she’ll have wings drawn on so sharp they could cut a man’s throat. “How is it you get to bed down with every miss looking for a good time, but I can only look at all those strapping young farm boys?”

“Pitchforks. Torches,” he reminds her. “Us, running away in the middle of the night...”

No one remembers the barmaid, except for an angry wife. And they know how to drum up some bloody-minded friends once night falls. That’s another thing that makes the spirits angry, but well, that’s not his problem. Maybe if they were more circumspect, they could tumble a few village boys-- or girls-- if they liked.

“Fine,” she mutters, itching at her neck. Some red flakes off, falling to the dirt below, lost beneath the tread of their boots. “Where to next?”

He’d thought he’d been mulling it over still, but the second she asks, it’s the answer at the tip of his tongue. The only one.

“Nowhere that needs a drowned girl!” Torou warns him, pitch raising to one that would make dogs howl. “My ears still don’t feel right after the last one...”

“Clarines.”

She scuffs to a halt. “Clarines? The ‘realm of reason?’ That Clarines?”

He doesn’t stop, just shortens his stride as he puts a jaunty skip in his step. “The very same.”

Her steps start again, hurrying to keep pace with his. “Why? I thought they were enlightened out there. Above all this folk talk.”

“No one is, if we play them well enough.” He slides her a sly smile. “And we will.”

“Best of the best,” she agrees. “So what’s the score?”

His grin pulls wide. “I hope you have your kissing lips ready. We have a princess to awaken.”

His hands fly up between them, trying to ward off her waggling finger. She’s carrying five knives at minimum, but of all the weapons on her body, that finger scares him the most. “Torou, come on--”

“Don’t you ‘come on’ me, Nanaki.” She doesn’t need a steel when her tone’s already so pointed. “I’m not going back there, not even if you beg me. Not even if you drag me. I’ll gnaw off my own leg if you try.”

“Torou, what--?” She shifts, just enough for him to see the wide stretch of her eyes, pupils blown and white all around the rim. “Are you...scared?”

“Scared? Scared?” Torou laughs, wild. “I’m terrified. We’ve played a lot of games, but this, this-- this curse thing, it’s real.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he huffs, leaning against a bedpost. “You know that’s not true. We’ve been running this grift for how long now, and the only supernatural thing out there is how easily everyone will believe it.”

“Listen, that’s what I thought. That’s what I always thought, you know that.” Her voice trembles, shoulders hunching around her chest. “But I went there. I went right into that manor to case the joint-- I knew there’d be stuff in there, stuff we could sell and get out of this rat race.”

His jaw slackens. They’d never talked about that, about what could lie at the end of a real good grift, of what they would do if they had enough coin to stop. He hadn’t even known she’d wanted to, let alone that she--

“I went in there,” she murmurs, rounding into herself. “And someone-- someone screamed.”

He licks his lips, brain jittering with the thought of this ending, or having somewhere to stop. “Screamed?”

“Don’t laugh.” Torou’s voice barely wavers above a whisper. “Someone screamed, and I-- I went to find them. Maybe some kid got in there and broke a leg. I could get some credit you know, really get those bumpkins eating out of my palm. But I walked in and--” she chokes, fingers clawing at her throat-- “there was blood, so much blood, just covering the floor, and then--”

Her breath fills his ears, so harsh, so pained. He’s only heard her like this once, back before, and his blood runs cold.

“And then.” Her hand comes out to grip his wrist, drawing him into her terrified gaze. “It sounded like someone was dying.”

#obiyukibingo21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #supernatural au #sleeping beauty au #my fic #age of reason #ans #OKAY SO I GUESS THERE IS AT LEAST ONE MORE CHAPTER #for the set up at least #but perhaps you are all seeing the shape this fic is gonna take...#perhaps if you have read the folk versions of the fairy tale >:3c #also i don't know how i've ended up with so many stories with torou this time around #but here we are #this is the life i'm living this bingo

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chaoticspacefam · 3 years

Note

Duende for the pairing of your choice? c:

This was meant to be a drabble and instead it got a little long oops 😬 I had a lot of fun with this though so I hope you all like it! The basic premise of this comes from a headcanon I have that all Force sensitives have the potential to have a sort of “presence” that even Force-blind individuals can pick up on, if they’re powerful enough. This of course leads to both a magnetic sort of allure in some cases, as well as certain things to feel very different in a way that can’t be compared to someone else. Since Jedi don’t tend to get “attached” per the Jedi code, this is more often a problem with Sith, ergo the “don’t fuck Sith, they’ll ruin you [for everyone else]” sentiment being implied here. I imagine that’s a saying that gets passed around Imperial/Sith planets and populations, a lot. 😘

From [Send me a word and a character/pairing and I will write a drabble] prompt list.

Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm.

Pairing: Ni’kasi/Andronikos (F!Sith Inquisitor/Andronikos Revel)

Warnings: for language, mild-moderate implied gore, and mild to moderate suggestiveness, nothing explicit is described but it’s very heavily implied. Some spoilers for the Alderaan arc of the Sith Inquisitor storyline about a side-character you meet there. Alternative title: Andronikos realises he’s got it bad. 😂

They're on Alderaan now, getting ready to take off and leave the planet behind them. They've been travelling together for what the pirate would consider to be a semi-respectable amount of time. This wouldn't be the first woman he's travelled with that Andronikos had considered attractive, only this time...he's pretty sure he's in a fix, because the woman is a Sith. And not just any sort, either. Ni'kasi is a Red Sith, the kind that didn't get any more Sith-like if they tried, and that meant he was in deep shit, because he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Don't ever fuck Sith, they said; they'll ruin you. they said.

Andronikos isn't entirely sure how true that warning is, but then again he's never fucked a Sith, or wanted to fuck one badly enough to find out. Until now.

She hadn’t even kissed him yet - only almost - but he was finding thoughts of Ni'kasi would creep into his brain completely uninvited, and usually at the worst time. There was just...something about her, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But she was, in a word, enchanting.

The Sith is a lot more slender than he’d thought she would be, not that he’s met too many Purebloods before, but he’s seen a few, and they’d all been a lot stockier. But then, they hadn’t had the past that she did, she doesn’t talk about it and he had no plans to force it out of her before she was ready to share it with him, but it’s obvious that Ni’kasi has seen some shit, and been through much worse.

As slight as she was in comparison, he wouldn’t dare presume she was “weak”, far from it, he’s seen this woman fight and it’s quite terrifying, really. He’d watched her crack a man’s bones with a mere thought, and conjure enough lightning to power a tropical storm out of the palms of her hands, Ni’kasi was not the sort of person one wanted to mess with. But he wanted to kiss her so terribly, and if he was honest, that wasn’t where the thoughts stopped. The mental image of her prancing off with that other Sith man made him indescribably jealous. Not that it mattered, he was dead now, which was a pity...he’d seemed nice, if a little timid. Kind of like a puppy dog. Not the sort he’d have expected a woman like her to go after, but he wondered, from the way she’d grinned at him as she returned to the ship, whether Ni’kasi knew that.

There was a very real possibility that she was toying with him. Logically, he knew that. Normally he was better at controlling his wayward thoughts while on the job, but there was something about this woman - whether it was the way she fought, or the way she spoke, the way she looked, or a combination of all three - that meant he just couldn’t. If he’d not had dealings with other Sith before he would have been amiss to blame it all on some sort of Sithy magic trick to keep him fixated, but the pirate knew better. He’d talked to other Force sensitives before, and while they’d had a clear presence in the room, it had never pulled him in like this. This wasn’t something she was consciously doing to him, he knew he had all the power to resist the allure if he wanted to. The problem was, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to. He wanted her.

“Andronikos.” Ni’kasi’s voice cut through his daydreaming, but his brain didn’t quite register it. What would it take, he wondered, to get her to say his name in a more intimate context? Was that even something she wanted, maybe he was imagining the electricity he thought he’d felt between them during that gala when they’d been looking for that Rist woman... “Revel.” he heard the snap of her fingers, this time, breaking through his reverie, and yet he still couldn’t quite pull himself back to reality just yet. Apparently she’d noticed this, for next came:

“Pirate!” Uh oh. That was a bad sign. He was only ever “pirate” when she was starting to get annoyed. He wished he’d been paying more attention to the words coming out of her mouth, and less time thinking about what it would feel like against his, in the dark, and - Focus, Revel, dammit! “Uhh…” he stammered sheepishly, and Ni’kasi scoffed, clicking her tongue. Her expression is softer than he’d expected it to be when he finally snapped his gaze back to focus on her once more. “Ah. That one always works.” the corner of her lips turned upwards ever so faintly, and he’s sure it’s the start of a smile rather than an annoyed sneer. She’s a difficult woman to read, her tells are very subtle...but Andronikos reckoned he was starting to get the hang of it.

“Sorry,” the pirate coughed in apology, rubbing at the back of his neck and hoping that would shake some sense into himself, “you were saying?” “We’ll be off, soon.” the Pureblood continued, the spurs at her jawline flexing as she spoke, “I need to update the other Sith on what happened with Urtel, they’ll need to send another Lord down to protect Elana Thul now that he’s gone.”

“Oh yeah.” he grunted, feeling another surge of jealousy as his mind conjured up unhelpfully detailed images of what they must have been doing for the Pureblood to have been alone with Urtel for so long. That should have been me. “Him.”

This time, Ni’kasi really did smirk, and it nearly ended him then and there. She quirked a browstalk at him, her voice almost a purr as she asked. “Are you jealous?” “No!” the pirate protested, all too quickly. The Pureblood said nothing for now, but as she got up to head for the holocomm she flashed her fangs at him in a way that made it very clear she knew he was lying. “...Good. Then you can handle getting us en-route to Dromund Kaas while I speak to Zash, can’t you?”

He nodded in confirmation, turning to head back into the cockpit, but not without sparing one last glance at her over his shoulder before he rounded the corner.

Don't fuck Sith, they'll ruin you. they said.

She could ruin him any time she liked, and he’d thank her for it.

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kilesplaysthings · 4 years

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YANDERE SUITORS HEADCANNON, i think this will be fun

Ok lol I’m sorry it took me FOREVER to answer this.. I’ve been meaning to, but I kept putting these off. life’s been...... hectic lol and I have had NO inspiration but!! I’m on vacation this week so! Here we go!

Yandere headcanons huh? I’m assuming you’re talking about the ikevamp boys? Hmmmmmm~

Let’s start with papa vamp Comte St. Germaine:

Y’all know he’s mister cool, calm and collected. It’d take a LOT to ruffle his smooth feathers. I mean, he’s seen the world, done it all.. he’s old lol The only exception is when someone tries to meddle in his relationship with his significant other.

Then, oooh, then. You’d best beware. He won’t blow up, but I can just see those golden eyes take on a deadly sheen. He’ll talk in a very calm voice that’s as smooth as Muzan from Demon Slayer and just as scary. He won’t even have to use force, bruh. He’ll just look at the infidel and smile a cold smile and talk with that voice and they’ll know never to go near his beloved ever again. And so will anyone else in the near vicinity. Thinking about it, it’s kinda hot lol

I imagine all yandere tendencies to be towards the outsider, not his beloved. But he might want them to assure him that they love him and him alone. I think he’d love his beloved too much to be rough with them, unless that’s what they want lol

Napoleon

hmmm with Napoleon I don’t know how much of a yandere he’d be. I think he’s too confident a person to have those tendencies. Noble too.

I definitely could see him getting violent if his beloved feels and/or acts threatened tho

If he ever does feel those tendencies, I have a feeling he’d try to laugh it off or joke about it while at the same time be a little more clingy with his beloved :3

Leonardo

Ooh Leo.. now let’s talk about Leo. He’s confident, sure, but he’s got that little self conscious itch that bugs him now and then concerning how old he is and the mortality of his beloved. Like, I imagine now and then he questions whether he’s right for them or not because they’re mortal and he’s immortal yada yada

So, if there is a persistent person that tries to seemingly take his beloveds attention or be a bit too flirty, I feel like he’d keep it to himself at first. However, if it bugs him, I bet he’d confront that person alone and make sure they’re aware who they’re messing with.

After, though he tries to keep things to himself, when those tendencies comes out, heh, what a night it’ll be..... nothing bad, of course, because he’d never hurt his beloved. But they won’t be leaving their bedroom for a while lol

Isaac

I can imagine this cutie having yandere tendencies, sure. He’d be ashamed of them because he’s aware it’s not healthy, but he can’t help himself at times

If someone makes the move on his beloved, I can see the poor thing not knowing how to handle it. He’d just know he doesn’t like it. Maybe he steps in at the last minute to break them up. Actually, you can kind of see it in his route when Comte is teaching MC how to dance

He’d be a bit pouty about it and later on would want reassurance that his beloved is his and his alone. He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing too, so they might be getting more than they bargained for.

Mozart

Yandere? Mozart? Most likely. And I think if he’s pissed he’ll do something to prove how much better he is than his so-called rival.

Boy is a straight savage and will also use his words to just murder the poor soul that dare approach his beloved

After that, his beloved had better prepare themselves, because they’d be in a world full of intense teasing.

Arthur

Would Artie be a yandere? I kinda think he’d be a quieter one. One that’s a bit more possessive in private.

Like, he’ll act like it’s no big thing. He’ll act confident, sure. But it’s eating him inside, especially if his beloved seems to be acting a little more friendly than normal...

Back at the room, he’d pout. Clutch onto his beloved and tell them he’s not letting them go. He’d need some consoling before he proves why he’s the only one for them. He’s good with his words too, so be ready for that~

Vincent

He’s the surprising one. You wouldn’t think he’d have the tendencies but one evening, someone is being a bit too friendly with his dear one. His only one. His muse.

He saunters up and smiles happily but there’s something scary about the way he’s talking and tightly holding his dear one’s hand.. scary enough that the other person isn’t a problem any longer

He’s not even quite aware of how he’s acting. He just knows he’s angry and wants his beloved to himself. When alone, he tells them how he’s feeling and doesn’t understand why. So many feelings are so new to him, after all. Needless to say, the both of them will be quite willing to explore how to relieve himself of these emotions

Theo

I sure do think he’d be a yandere. Quite an expressive one too.

He’ll be dominant towards the jerk that’s trying to move in on his significant other. It won’t go to blows, because this man knows how to handle things without going that far. He can argue and intimidate quite well from trying to sell his brothers works.

Afterwards, he’ll confront his beloved as well. Again, nothing hurtful or anything, but it seems this dude likes it rough. Ergo, they will remember who they “belong” to very well

Dazai

‘Kay, I love Dazai very much but y’all know this guy would be the creepy kind of yandere, always hanging around his beloved whenever possible

He’d start writing things to his beloved daily that seem loving at first but also quite possessive.

He’d also be the sneaky type, finding ways to make the unfortunate soul’s who dared mess with his beloved life a living hell, either by writing things about them or spreading secrets that he somehow found out.

Jean

I suppose he could have yandere tendencies, but he’d be ashamed of them. He too would realize that these feelings would be wrong

He would be open about these feelings and would ask his beloved’s forgiveness and would want to seek a way to prevent them

There would be some pleading for assurance that his beloved would stay with him and him alone

Shakespeare

lol isn’t this guy certified to be a yandere? Legit would want to keep his beloved to himself

Will be open to tying them up or locking them up if he feels it necessary

Still, i can see him feeling some guilt about it, maybe not like Kenshin, but it could be something he feels he probably should change. Is probably depressed too, since he always wants to write tragedies. Basically, this guy probably needs counseling......

And that’s that. I hope it’s ok. I don’t quite know how to write yanderes and I’m not fully aware of some of these characters’ behaviors yet since their routes aren’t out yet. :) if there’s any problem, feel free to tell me.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevam headcanons

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adleryoung · 3 years

Text

"Those so-called 'conjured' items," I explained, "have to be apported from somewhere, which means I would need to already know the location of a pair of scry orbs ... or I would have to transmogrify something else into scry orbs, which I'm not sure would work because they need to be very precisely constructed."

"Perhaps Ash has a set," Vernier suggested. "In fact, I'm sure he does, since it is very like him to be prepared for every eventuality. He knew he would be cutting off your communication outside the forest, and that he himself could not enter the forest, but he also knew there would still be a need to contact you - ergo, he must have some means of doing so."

"You're probably right, but still I would rather make my own," I pouted. "Ash wants me to have to rely on him for everything. I need to show him I am capable of solving problems myself."

"Pardon, my Lord," Rebecca interrupted. "But returning to my previous question, I'm still confused. Are you telling me that you knew the location of a large comfy chair and half a dozen pillows? Or that you made them out of sticks and rocks? What about all the other stuff you conjured for Miss Vernier? Those silk slippers? Those roses? That bottle of wine? That box of chocolate bonbons? Did you make those out of toadstools? Or do you have a stockpile of dating materials hidden away somewhere?"

"Uh," I replied, staring at the items as Rebecca pointed them out. Come to think of it, how exactly had I produced all of this stuff?

"A theory has just occurred to me," Vernier declared.

"Forgive me, sir," she whispered as she leaned close and looked into my eyes. "I really, really want to see a set of scrying orbs. Could you get some for me, pretty please?"

"Y-you dare use Wiles on me???" I choked.

"Aw, pleeeease my lord," Vernier wheedled seductively. "I bet other elves give their ladies scrying orbs so they can whisper sweet nothings even when they are apart. That's soooo romantic! I want that, sir. PLEEEEASE won't you give me a scrying orb of my own?"

"Anything for you, my sweet," I sighed in a drunken daze of desire as I held out two perfect scrying orbs.

"DAGNABBIT!" Burnside yelled. "Look at you, makin a durn fool of yourself, moonin' over that lowfolk floozy! How come I ain't been loved like that? What's she got that I ain't got?"

"Pay up, sisters," Typantronn cackled in the background.

"Whaaat," Burnside moaned as she noticed the glove on her arm, and then looked down at her body. "What in the nine Netherhells am I wearin?"

"That doth not count," another Ixie declared as Burnside became silent and motionless once again.

#furry #elf #adventure #cartoon #story #plot #tboay

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hashtagartistlife · 4 years

Text

and then there were none

Ichigo Kurosaki, college student, gets roped into a dorm game with a long tradition and finds it a little more than he bargained for. Kuchiki Rukia, college student, has never done anything by halves-- and that includes stupid traditional dorm welcoming games. The r.a.s regret the day they placed her knife in his hands.

There was a tumblr post going around that I can no longer find about a welcoming game at an American college dormitory. The basic idea behind it was that everyone in the dorms get a plastic knife with someone else's name on it, and they had to find that person and 'stab' them with the knife (just a simple touch was counted as valid) to 'murder' them. The 'victim' is then out of the game, and they had to hand over their own plastic knife to their 'murderer'. Whoever is on the 'victim's plastic knife was the new victim for the 'murderer'.

My first instinct upon seeing anything vaguely amusing is always 'make it ichiruki'. So here's the fic about it.

(There's two chapters planned, and please don't ask me when the next chapter will be up, it's not high on my priority list. But it WILL come, some day. I don't make it a habit to abandon fic, even though sometimes it seems like I have. Promise.)

___________________________________________________________

So, college dorms were pretty wild.

For small-town Karakura boy Kurosaki Ichigo, living in a co-ed dorm at a university in America has been nothing short of an eye-opening experience. There are people walking around barefeet in only a towel. Some girl set off the smoke alarm because she was cooking cup noodles in the bathroom at 2am. He’s pretty sure he’s heard his dormmates having sex through the walls on more than one occasion, and the food served at the cafeteria is only edible about half the time. All in all, it’s a little bemusing, but not at all unpleasant, and by the third week of his move he thinks he’s settling in ok. His room is mostly in order, and he’s made at least passing acquaintances with the people on his floor. His English is improving at a frankly astonishing speed, and classes don’t start till next week. He’s figured out which stall in the bathroom spits out the most reliable hot water, and he really thinks he’s got a good handle on this whole ‘dorm living’ thing—

that is, until he gets back to his dorm room one night to find a plastic knife shoved under his door.

“The fuck…?” he mutters, trying to figure out if this was an American befriending ritual, or maybe someone was just attempting to threaten him (badly)? Did his room look like a trashcan? Did Chad (he thinks that was his name) from room 209 remember what he said about not having a grasp on American cutlery yet and decide to help him in a subtle way?

He raps on the door next to his, and a muffled voice yells ‘who is it?’

“It’s Kurosaki from 206,” he replies, and the door cracks open to reveal a single brown eye and a strand of auburn hair.

“Oh, hi, Kurosaki-kun!” Inoue Orihime from 207 was…. an odd girl. She liked putting parsley in her coffee and read astrophysics textbooks for fun. But Ichigo doesn’t remember her ever being this defensive— she’d always been enthusiastic about greeting people, so the way that she refuses to open her door more than an inch is uncharacteristic of her. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I just got back from the library and there was this knife shoved under my door—”

At this, Inoue screams and slams her door shut; Ichigo is left more than a little bemused. “Inoue? What the hell— it’s only a plastic knife!”

“I know that, Kurosaki-kun! As if I’m just going to let you win this— but by the way, this is terrible strategy, now I know to avoid you like the plague—”

“Strategy?! Inoue, what the fuck— wait, is this plastic knife meant to mean something? Is this some American etiquette thing? I have no idea what’s going on. Please explain to me what this knife means—”

Inoue opens her door a crack again, and looks at him suspiciously.

“Wait, so you didn’t hear the murder announcement at breakfast today?”

“Murder announcement?! Jesus FUCK, who died—”

“Nobody died, Kurosaki-kun, don’t be overdramatic—”

“AS FAR AS MY ENGLISH SKILLS GO, INOUE, MURDER MEANS SOMEBODY DIED—”

“Wow, you really don’t listen to the breakfast announcements at all, do you?” Inoue sounds supremely unimpressed, but at least she opens the door a bit further; except what the hell is she only wearing a towel—?!

“Inoue why the fuck are you only wearing a towel—”

Inoue waves her hand like that’s a negligible detail. “Just got out of the shower, but also murder strategy. You’re immune if you’re naked, and some of the second years recommended this. I’m in this to win, Kurosaki-kun, there’s a whole year’s supply of cup noodles in this for me—”

“Wait, what? Cup noodles?” That got his attention. Anything that scored him a whole year’s supply of free cup noodles was okay in his book. Questionable towel-wearing included. “Now you really gotta explain what’s going on.”

“I should leave you to rot, one less person to compete against for me.” Inoue purses her lips. “But you were the first one to pour a bucket of water on that fire I started last week, so fine, I’ll let you in on the murder details.”

“Not a sentence I thought I’d ever hear in my life, but cheers, America,” Ichigo mutters.

“So basically, murder’s a game that the whole dorm plays every year,” Inoue starts explaining, and Ichigo’s still trying to get over the weirdness of the word murder being used so casually— “and everyone gets these plastic knives with someone’s name written on them, and the idea is you have to stab that person with the knife and ‘’’kill’’’ them. Then you get their knife, and you just keep killing people and collecting knives until you’re the last person left! Hmm, there were a couple of rules, you can’t kill someone in the dining room or their own rooms, and you’re immune if you’re naked, but I think that was it? Anyway. So yeah! That’s what’s going on here!”

Ichigo squints at his knife in the half-dark of the corridor that, for some reason, has had all its lights screwed out. “Ok, that’s…. Great, I suppose? What happens if I don’t know who the person on my knife is?”

“Then you find out, Kurosaki-kun! This game was ostensibly devised so that we make friends, you know.”

“There are no friends when it comes to a year’s free supply of cup noodles,” Ichigo says, and Inoue claps her hands.

“Precisely! You’re getting the hang of it now. Ergo, for the next week, I don’t know you, ok? Good luck!”

Inoue slams her door shut, and Ichigo shuffles back to his room, feeling slightly more enlightened than before.

But still—

“Who the hell is Rukia Kuchiki?”

__________________________________________________________

By the second week of Murder, Ichigo’s seen enough naked butts to last him a lifetime. It seems that voluntary nakedness is a vastly preferable fate for many than losing a shot at a year’s supply of free cup noodles, and honestly if that doesn’t sum up the average college student mindset Ichigo doesn’t know what does. (He’d probably be a lot more judgemental about it, though, if he hadn’t spent at least a few hours earnestly contemplating the strategy himself.)

Thankfully, he and Chad have an alliance of sorts that makes him wearing a towel round the place redundant. He’d enlisted the giant’s help in identifying his would-be target, and after ascertaining that he wasn’t the name on Chad’s knife either (Chad had one Asano Keigo as his victim, Ichigo only knows him as that guy who swallowed a whole tablespoon of cinnamon powder on a dare), the two of them had agreed to watch the other’s back. Chad was set to pull off his first attack tomorrow, but Ichigo still had no clue who or where Rukia Kuchiki was.

Part of the problem was that the dorm was so friggin’ huge; there were four wings, each with five floors, and each floor had ten rooms. That was 200 potential students he had to parse through to find his victim, and it wasn’t exactly like he could go around asking people if they knew her. Murder had amped hostility on campus up by 300%, and almost nobody stopped for idle chatter anymore.

Whoever had devised this as a way of promoting friendliness and unity on campus was a giant fuckin’ moron.

“Still no word on Kuchiki?” Chad asks, after another day of paranoia and stalking Asano to make sure the plan goes off without a hitch, and Ichigo shakes his head.

“Are they even real at this stage? Are we sure I haven’t been given someone who doesn’t exist?”

“Ghost student?”

“Fuckin’ potentially? Who the fuck knows with America.”

Chad hides a smile behind his rickety old guitar and starts tuning. “I’ll ask around my bandmates tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Naw, s’alright. I don’t want word to get out that I’m looking for them. What kinda giant flashing beacon that says HEY, I’M YOUR POTENTIAL MURDERER, right?”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Because dammit all, Ichigo’s serious about this thing. A whole year’s supply of cup noodles is no joking matter. Speaking of which, he wonders how Inoue is doing with her murders…

_______________________________________________________________

Inoue, as it turns out, is doing swimmingly. While Ichigo has done little more than sit around and twiddle his thumbs, Inoue has already racked up an impressive collection of plastic knives— three, she informs him that night, while cheerfully throwing him a celebratory can of leek soda (Ichigo gingerly sets it down behind her sofa when she's not looking). She was making good headway on her next victim, as well, and if all went according to plan she'd have her fourth knife tomorrow morning—

“But, you know, Kurosaki-kun,” she muses, sipping on her own can of beetroot soda (where did she get these concoctions from!?), “You're awfully cavalier about this whole thing. For all you know, you could be my next victim,but here you are, sitting on my couch. Or do you just not care about cup noodles?”

He snorts. “If you ever got ahold of my knife, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead before we even got to have this conversation.”

“True,” she concedes— credit where credit is due. “So nobody’s popped up to try to kill you yet?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p a little. Honestly, that was the only thing making him feel better about his complete inability to murder anyone— the fact that whoever had his knife was having just as much difficulty tracking him down. One week in, and he'd not seen hide nor hair of this Rukia Kuchiki person, and, big dorm or not, her (her? Ichigo assumes it's a girl, though Rukia is very unusual for a Japanese name) elusiveness is getting to be extremely impressive. “But Chad is watching my back for me anyway. I'm covered.”

“Hmm.” Inoue purses her lips. “That's a lot of faith in someone you've only known, for, what, three weeks?”

“Chad is trustworthy,” Ichigo says firmly. He stands and stretches up to the ceiling, stifling a yawn. “And speaking of Chad, I better get to bed. He's ambushing Asano tomorrow, I told him I'd be there for backup.”

Inoue waves. “Good luck to Sado-kun, then. I’m gonna stay up a bit to refine my own dastardly plans.”

He shakes his head and opens the door, peering out into the corridor to make sure the coast was clear. He and Inoue were literally next door neighbours, but you couldn't be too careful these days. “When you win this thing I'm gonna be expecting free noodles from you occasionally. Remember I stopped you from burning down the whole dorms last week.”

“I'll consider it.”

“‘Night, then.”

“Goodnight, Kurosaki-kun. Dream of Rukia Kuchiki tonight!”

“At this stage,” Ichigo mutters, as he slips back into his room, “anything to help me find out who the hell she is.”

_______________________________________________________

Drastic times call for drastic measures. The next morning, after a successful ambush on Asano (Chad is now +1 plastic knife; his new victim is called Yammy Llargo), Ichigo tracks down someone he'd been avoiding ever since his move to America and claps a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey.”

Arisawa Tatsuki whirls around and body-slams him into the ground. “Who the fuck do you think you— Ichigo?”

He winces. “Hi.”

Tatsuki puts her hands on her hips and does not offer him any help getting up. “Oh, so you're talking to me now?”

“I just said hi, didn't I?”

“You know, you're such a fucking asshole, did it ever occur in your pathetic little brain to apologise—”

“I'm sorry,” Ichigo mutters sullenly. “Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was also going to college in America, I'm sorry you found out only when you bumped into me at the dorm welcoming party, it's just that we had that whole farewell party for you and we had that touching goodbye and, look it's just awkward that I got a second round admissions letter the very next day, it's like saying bye to a friend and then finding out you're walking the same way to the carpark, ok, it’s embarrassing—”

“Oh my god, you drama queen. Were you ever planning on telling me? Ever? Your best friend since childhood?”

“... I might’ve planned to tell you at the beginning of the next semester by pretending I was on exchange,” he admits. Tatsuki throws her hands up in the air.

“You were going to avoid me for a whole semester?!”

“Look, I didn't know I’d end up in the same dorm as you, ok? It's a big campus!”

“Un-be-lievable,” she says, turning on a heel and walking away from him. “You know what, keep ignoring me. Don’t hang out around here. I don’t want your incredible loser vibes accidentally rubbing off—”

“I said sorry, didn’t I? Wait, wait, I had something to ask you!”

“Sorry doesn’t pay my bills, Ichigo!”

Ichigo catches up to her and falls into stride. “You don’t even pay bills! You’re on a full scholarship!”

Tatsuki manages a smug smile. “If you’re so jealous, maybe you should have kept up with karate.”

Ichigo grumbles. “Yeah, right, like I had a chance at a physical education scholarship with you in the same dojo.”

“I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging my superiority—!”

“You beat my ass continuously from when we were six to sixteen, I threw away any pride I had a long damn time ago.” He makes a face at the memory, then shakes his head to refocus. “Anyway, this isn’t why I was here. Listen, have you heard of anyone around here called Rukia Kuchiki—?”

Tatsuki cocks her head to the side at that, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Kuchiki…? Name sounds familiar. Why?”

Ichigo feels his heart speed up in his chest. “What, really? Where did you hear it? Do you know her?”

And now she was grinning again and— oh, no, Ichigo does not like the look of that smile. “Why do you want to know?” she asks, and the question is laden with suggestion. Ichigo flushes.

“None of your damn busi— look, it’s not what you think—”

“Aw, my little mama’s boy Ichigo is all grown up, I remember when you used to go crying to your mom for a scraped knee and now you’re chasing after women—”

“It’s for murder, you absolute pain in the butt! She’s my target!”

Tatsuki bursts out laughing, hearty peals of laughter bouncing off the courtyard walls. “Alright, alright, I get you. I was just teasing, Ichigo, geez. Anyway, the name sounds familiar, but that doesn’t mean I know her. I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before.”

Ichigo deflates as quickly as he’d been riled up. “Are you serious right now—?”

“Hey, you can talk, mister ‘I’m-really-bad-at-remembering-names-and-faces! And yeah, I’m serious. I don’t have a stake in murder anymore. I got killed two days in.”

Ok, that surprises him. He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “What, really? Who the hell did you in?”

“Some girl named Orihime Inoue,” she grumbles, kicking a nearby rock. “Tae-kwon-do black belt, apparently??? She doesn’t even look the type!”

Ichigo makes a noise of sympathy and understanding. He should have guessed.

“Anyway, now I’m roped into helping her. So I don’t think I’d be able to tell you about Rukia Kuchiki, even if I’d known any more about her. Victims who are murdered have to help their murderer, and all.”

Ichigo frowns. “Wait, those are the rules?”

“That’s what Inoue said.”

“............ I am about 95% sure that those were not part of murder rules.”

There’s a short silence between the two as they process this.

“...... scary girl,” Tatsuki finally says, in a grudgingly admiring tone.

“I’ll say.”

The two of them stop their brisk walk in front of a huge pair of doors emblazoned with the words GYM, and Tatsuki waves him off. “Anyway, I gotta go train now. Any further questions before I go?”

Ichigo thinks a bit. “Yeah, why drama queen? Since I’m a guy, shouldn’t it be drama king?”

“Do I look like a linguist? You always scored better than I did at this stupid language. Take it up with whoever your hero was, Willy Shakealot or something?”

“Shakespeare,” he says sharply. “And Shakespeare wasn’t a linguist. In fact, I’m pretty sure linguists really hate him. He made up a lot of weird words and shit.”

“He did? Huh. Didn’t know you were allowed to do that.”

“You’re not, Shakespeare just gave zero fucks.” Ichigo shrugs and takes a half-step back, raising his hand in a goodbye salute. “Why else do you think he was my hero?”

Tatsuki rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You’re still a loser.”

“And you’re a bitch. Let me know if you remember anything about Kuchiki.”

“Only if we get to go halves on the cup noodles.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Then I’ll think about it, too.”

That was probably the best he was going to get out of her. “Later, then.”

“If you can bear the embarrassment of us meeting again despite already having said goodbye, then sure.”

Ichigo shakes his head and lets her have that parting riposte. He hadn’t won a single match, verbal or physical, against Tatsuki since they’d been in diapers; he figures, what with the way his luck was going lately, that he wasn’t about to start now.

__________________________________________________________

Just as Ichigo walks away, a tiny girl brushes past him on her way to the gym. Her black hair falls short and sleek, tickling her jawline and the nape of her neck, and the clean scent of cucumber and mint follows in her wake. She jostles him a little, bumping into his elbow, but Ichigo hardly notices the slight press of her body against his, small and light as she is. She mutters a hasty apology, and disappears into the building before he can formulate a reply.

Ichigo shrugs and goes on his merry way.

_______________________________________________________

The third week of murder brings about a calamitous change in the game as Ichigo knows it, due to several factors:

Orihime Inoue kills not one, not two, but three people in quick succession;

Someone finally stages an attack on him, but runs away without having completed the deed, and

Chad dies.

Not literally, of course, but Ichigo has to admit, the figurative loss still hits him pretty damn hard. Chad takes it as stoically as ever, with a shrug and twitch of his eyebrow, and goes back to working on music for his band.

“Does anything faze you?” Ichigo wonders, after Chad hands his knife over to Inoue (because of course it was Inoue who took him out. Of course).

“Puppies.”

“Fair enough.”

“Kittens, too.”

“... Right.”

“And birds. And rabbits. And small children—”

“So basically, you’re a sucker for anything cute?”

Chad shrugs again, which Ichigo takes as a yes. He crumples up his soda can and lobs it into the bin.

“You were attacked today, too. Aren’t you worried?”

Ichigo considers it. “A bit, yeah. Sucks that you got taken out of the game. But you can still watch my back when you can, right? I’ll go halves on the noodles with you.”

Chad nods. “When I can. I might be busier with my band soon, though.”

“Understandable. I’ll try and keep myself alive in the meantime. At least I know who’s aiming for me, now. Neru? Nel?”

“Neliel Tu Odelschwancke.”

Ichigo stares. “How the hell do you remember that?”

“She’s in my music theory class. And she has green hair. She’s not hard to miss.”

“Well, good. Should make it easier to see her coming.”

Chad smiles. “Your hair isn’t exactly hard to miss, either.”

“Aw, shut up. I take back what I said about the noodles.”

They sit in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of Chad tuning his guitar the only thing between them. Eventually, Chad breaks the ice.

“And Kuchiki?”

Ichigo huffs a dry laugh. “No fuckin’ clue who or where she is. I’ve even been asking around, now that a lot of people have been dropped from the game by dying. But nobody seems to know who she is, even though everyone says her name sounds familiar. It’s driving me up the goddamn wall.”

“When I first heard the name, I thought that too.”

“What, that it sounds like a name that’s going to drive me up the wall?”

“No, that it sounds familiar.”

At this point, Ichigo is more tired than exasperated. “Yeah, s’what everyone says. Whatever. I’ll either find her or I won’t, right? No point getting annoyed over it. Better just focus on staying alive, because I swear to god if I die before finding out who she is I’ll be pissed.”

“You better hope,” Chad says gravely, “that Inoue doesn’t get her hands on your knife, then.”

“You, me, and the entire dorm population, mate.”

________________________________________________________

Ichigo drops by Inoue’s room that evening, just to check he isn’t next on her list. He’s lucky— he’s not. But some poor fucker by the name of Uryuu Ishida is.

“I waited outside his room all day and he didn’t even exit once!” Inoue’s saying, brandishing the knife with his name on it like a conductor directing Beethoven’s Ninth. “What kind of— of social recluse does that?!”

“Damn,” Ichigo replies, ignoring the fact that he did exactly that for days on end during the summer holidays, rereading The Compleat Works of Shakespeare in English and Japanese. “Sounds like a loser.”

“Apparently he’s like— the dorm cryptid,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Nobody’s— nobody’s really seen him in the flesh. They’re not sure he even exists. They think he’s second-year pre-med and that he was valedictorian of his grade last year, but nobody knows for sure.”

“Inoue, how did you manage to find out all this in the span of a day?”

She looks at him like he’s insane. “I, uh, talked to people?”

“I talk to people too! But nobody knows who Rukia Kuchiki is. Nobody. Zilch. Zip. Nada. At this point I’m about 98% sure she doesn’t actually exist.”

Inoue sighs pityingly. “Kurosaki-kun, you’ve been talking to students, haven’t you?”

Ichigo’s confused. “Who else would I talk to?”

Inoue just puts a finger to her lips. “Can’t tell you. Trade secret. But really, Kurosaki-kun. There are much easier ways of going about this game, you know.”

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do me, when you won’t tell me,” he grumbles. He takes another look at the name on her knife— Uryuu Ishida, may he rest in peace— and thanks his lucky stars that it isn’t him on there. “Anyway, I better be off. Good luck with the new guy. Not that you’ll need it.”

“Good luck with Rukia Kuchiki, because you’ll definitely need it.”

Hell, did everyone make a secret pact today to take the mickey out of him? Ichigo’s too tired to argue, so he just leaves Inoue to her planning and calls it a night. Maybe he’ll have better luck tomorrow.

____________________________________________________________

It takes Ichigo a few seconds to remember who she is, he’s been so tired lately.

Green hair, he thinks, absentmindedly, before he remembers his conversation with Chad yesterday and yelps, scooting back a few metres.

“You— Neliel?”

“That’s me!” His would-be murderer is bright and vivacious, and way too perky for this hour of the morning. Aside from the curious green hair, she’s also got a scar between her eyes and a reddish— birthmark? Tattoo? Ichigo doesn’t know— across the bridge of her nose. “Morning, Ichigo!”

Ichigo’s already halfway across the courtyard by the time she stops him. “Wait! Wait! I’m not here to kill you this morning!”

“Yeah right!” he yells back. “I’m not dying before I find out who the hell Rukia Kuchiki is! Try another morning!”

“You idiot, I’m already dead! Check the morning lists if you don’t believe me!”

Ichigo stops and whips out his smartphone. “You stay right there,” he says, glaring, and Neliel complies, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. He scrolls through the dorm noticeboard, and, sure enough, there is her name: one of the last people to be murdered last night.

“See? I don’t lie,” she says, reproachful, and Ichigo shoves his phone back into his pocket and approaches her cautiously.

“What do you want?”

Neliel shrugs. “I just thought I’d warn you about your new potential murderer? Thought that might be good manners, and all. Normally I wouldn’t bother, but, well. Your new murderer’s…… yeah.”

“My new murderer’s… what?”

She looks intensely uncomfortable at this. “He’s. Well. He’s…. He’s not a friend, per se, but I’ve known him since we were little and I feel a bit responsible for him— uh, he’s a bit rough sometimes, but he won’t actually kill you. I think. Look, just keep your eyes peeled, ok? Anyway, enough of this depressing talk in the morning. Who’s Rukia Kuchiki? Why are you so keen on meeting her?”

Wow, that was so transparent a topic change that Ichigo’s almost impressed. “No, no, go back to my murderer, what were you saying about him?”

“— so, Rukia Kuchiki, huh, cool name, sounds kinda familiar, wonder where I’ve heard it before—”

“Neliel. You were talking about my new murderer and actual murder in the same breath. This does not give me a lot of reassurance, you feel?”

“—no, wait, actually, Rukia Kuchiki,” she mutters, her brow furrowing. Then her expression clears, and she looks up at him with a bright smile. “Oh! You don’t possibly mean Dia—”

And just as that happens, the lockdown alarms go off.

_______________________________________________________

The loudspeaker in the middle of the courtyard bursts into life with a crackle of static.

“Attention all residents. This is not a drill. Please make your way to the nearest lockdown location in an orderly fashion. Attention all residents…”

By the second round of the announcement, both of them manage to unfreeze; Neliel curses and starts to turn away, but Ichigo grabs onto her wrist.

“Oh shit— I have to go find Donddochakka and Pesche—”

“Wait— Rukia. What were you about to say about Rukia?”

She shakes his restraining hand off with ease. “I’ll tell you later! I have to go find my friends!”

“No, goddammit! Tell me now! It won’t take you that long!” Ichigo yells, but she’s already disappeared into the throng of people. Ichigo kicks a nearby rock and consults his phone to find his nearest lockdown location— the gym, apparently. He joins the crowd moving slowly in that direction, mind still grappling with Neliel’s last words.

Rukia Kuchiki? Oh! You don’t possibly mean Dia-

Dia? Who the hell was Dia?

But he’d have to deal with that later; he walks into the gym and spots Tatsuki, waving at him from a corner with Inoue. He makes his way towards them.

“—n’t believe that he still won’t come out of his room, who does he think he is— there are safety regulations in place—” Inoue is saying, fingers curled around the knife that still says Uryuu Ishida. Tatsuki attempts to placate her with a long-suffering expression.

“Maybe he’d already left before you came— hi, Ichigo.”

“Hello, Kurosaki-kun! And ridiculous— I was there at 6 a.m. in the morning. What sort of self-respecting college student wakes up before then?”

“6 a.m.?! Orihime, that’s. That’s stalking—”

“Stalking’s not stalking if it’s done in the name of free cup noodles—”

“Stalking is always stalking! God, whatever, we’re continuing this another time. Anyway, Ichigo, did you hear? Some nutjob got onto campus with an actual knife.”

Ichigo flinches. “What? Jesus. I hope Chad’s ok. Where’d you hear that from?”

“From the r.a. over there.” Tatsuki points with a chin, and indeed, several r.a.s are in deep discussion, all of them with a serious look on their face. “They’re gonna make an announcement about it soon. Apparently it’s a scrawny dude, black hair in a ponytail, wearing a dirty white hoodie and jeans. There’s police cars arriving, shit’s crazy.”

“I’ll say.” At least it was a knife and not a gun, Ichigo thinks, toying idly with his own plastic knife. He halfheartedly scans the crowd, looking for any unfamiliar faces— surprisingly, he finds that he knows most of them already, by sight if not by name. He wonders if any of them are Rukia Kuchiki, and finds himself hoping that, wherever she was, she was somewhere safe.

It’d be a bit of a downer if she was actually murdered before he managed to get around to it.

The gym doors open again to let some of the stragglers in, and Ichigo allows his attention to be turned by the motely crew that walk in: a tall, thin man who is built rather like a stick insect, a hulking guy who looks about as wide as he’s tall, and a smaller, scrawny dude who is wearing nothing but a towel as a fundoshi around his waist (goddammit, Ichigo thought that tactic had died out by the first week). And, almost buried by the mass of bodies around her, a head full of green hair.

Ichigo blinks, and then he starts pushing through the crowd to get to her.

“Hey. HEY! NELIEL! WE GOTTA CONTINUE OUR CONVERSATION FROM EARLIER!”

Neliel looks up in his direction, and frantically starts mouthing no at him. Ichigo doesn’t give a shit. He’s going to find out who Rukia Kuchiki is, and he’s going to find out now.

“Don’t give me that crap! You said you’d tell me later! Well, it’s later now, so out with it—”

“No, I swear to god, Ichigo, not now—”

“Ichigo?” The stick insect dude suddenly looks viciously interested, and Neliel claps a hand over her mouth. “As in, Ichigo Kurosaki?”

Neliel shakes her head. Ichigo glares at stick insect dude.

“If I am, who the fuck are you?”

Nel buries her face in her hands, and stick insect dude smiles— and shit, can people even smile that wide? Ichigo feels a chill run down his spine.

“Your death,” stick insect dude says, and he lunges.

Scrawny dude, black hair in a ponytail, wearing a dirty white hoodie and jeans.

Ichigo sees the glint of a knife held in his hands, and suddenly realises he’s going to die—

“No!”

That is, until a short, black-haired blur shoots out from the crowd and jumps in front of the knife meant for him.

It sinks in to the hilt, and Ichigo watches the girl’s eyes widen in shock with a horror that robs him of his own voice.

________________________________________________________

Both girl and assailant crumple to the ground, and Ichigo’s frantic with worry; he reaches the girl first, hoists her up onto his lap, expecting blood. She was so small; what the hell was she thinking, jumping out in front of him?! She coughs, great big hacking things that he wouldn’t expect from someone her size, and Ichigo holds her around her shoulders, worried out of his mind.

“Are you ok? Hold on— where did he stab you? Are you bleeding—”

In response, the girl wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and lunges at the felled assailant.

“You missed, you cowardly shitstain, I don’t know what you’re doing on a campus but you’re going to rot in jail for this—”

“Young lady—! Enough! Back away and let the cops deal with this—”

“Nnoitra! I told you to leave that stupid knife behind, you idiot—”

“Ow! OW! Don’t just fucking watch, Nel, get this crazy woman off me, what the fuck—”

“ENOUGH!” The r.a.’s have made their way over by now, and manage to separate the two brawling figures; stick insect dude is being held back by Nel and her two other friends, while the girl is being restrained by an r.a. Ichigo sits on the floor between them, feeling like he just missed something.

“Wait, hang on, what’s— what just happened— didn’t you get stabbed?” he asks the girl, who is looking very un-stabbed. She glares at stick insect dude.

“He missed,” she spits, and stick insect dude howls in indignation.

“I did not miss!” he hisses, and throws a crumpled plastic knife onto the ground. “I had him! I would have had him straight in the gut if it hadn’t been for you jumping in for your boyfriend!!! The fuck, dude! This is sabotage! What have you got against me winning cup noodles?!”

Ichigo stares at the plastic knife bearing his name, crushed like an empty aluminium drink can, and slowly starts piecing the incident together.

“Wait— so you're—”

“And now I've lost the element of surprise. You scrawny little bitch,” Nnoitra snaps, and Ichigo thinks, a little wildly, that he had no business going around calling anyone else scrawny. He eyes the limp black hair and dirty white hoodie of his assailant and attempts to make sense of the chaos around him.

“You’re— you had my knife—?”

Nnoitra rolls his eyes. “What, can’t you see? You impaired or some shit?”

“Oh my god, Nnoitra,” Neliel groans. “Can you keep your big fat mouth shut for half a second—”

“Oh,” comes a small sound from the black-haired girl, and Ichigo turns to see her slowly flushing crimson. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Nnoitra mocks, before Neliel smacks him in the head. “Ow! Nel, you bitch, she is clearly the one in the wrong here, would you knock it off—”

“Well, what the hell was I supposed to think?!” the girl demands, now completely red but with an indignant expression on her face. “You matched the description for the armed intruder perfectly! Not to mention, who plays Murder like they're actually trying to kill someone?!”

“This is why I was trying to warn you,” Nel says to Ichigo in an exasperated aside. “And those are just his last set of clean clothes.”

There's a short silence as everyone digests her words, Ichigo and the girl both eyeing Nnoitra’s hoodie like they seriously doubted Nel’s definition of ‘clean’.

The girl clears her throat and speaks for all of them. “Gross.”

Nnoitra flings himself against Nel’s restraint. “You bitch, I'll fucking cut you up—”

“Enough!” an adult finally makes their way onto the scene, and everyone looks at the harried professor with varying levels of relief. The girl, in particular, lights up at the sight of him.

“Professor Ukitake—!”

“What’s going on here?” he asks in a tired sort of way, and the r.a.s hasten to answer him.

“A minor altercation— you know our dorm tradition, Murder—”

“Ah, that damn game,” he mutters, looking extremely distracted. His gaze sweeps over all of them, assessing the situation. “Nobody’s actually hurt, then?”

“No sir,” the girl answers, prompt. The professor nods at her, before turning to the r.a.s for the full story. By now, the police have made it into the evacuation area as well; the three parties convene for a minute or two, discussing the details in hushed voices, before they all turn to Nnoitra and Nel.

“In any case, Mr. Gilga,” Professor Ukitake says apologetically, “although it may be coincidental, it is true that you fit the description for the armed intruder rather perfectly, I’m afraid. The police would like you to accompany them to the station, just for a little while, until the intruder situation is solved. If that’s ok with you—?”

“Wha— the hell it is! I was just tryna murder Kurosaki over there—”

The professor winces. “Mr. Gilga….. That’s really not helping your cause there.”

“Oh, c’mon, it’s just a game—”

“I told you,” Nel interrupts witheringly. “I told you to leave your damn knife behind, didn’t I? Just go with the officers for now, Nnoitra. It’s just til they catch the real intruder, and quite frankly, I don’t trust you around Ichigo right now.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Nel, just because I murdered you last night—”

Two policemen place a hand each on Nnoitra’s shoulders and escort him out, Nnoitra complaining the whole time but not daring to retaliate. Nel shakes her head and makes an apologetic face in the direction of the smaller girl. “God, I told him… sorry about all this, Di. I might go with him just to make sure he doesn’t get himself arrested… you really alright? Not hurt anywhere?”

“Who do you think I am?” the girl scoffs. “I’m fine. Never did understand why you’re friends with him, though.”

Nel grimaces. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder that, too. Anyway, I’ll see you later at the gym, we can talk about this then.”

“Tell your stick insect friend not to lunge at people with knives in the future, whether they’re plastic or not.”

“Will do. Bye!” with another apologetic half-wave, Neliel and her two other friends take off after Nnoitra. Ichigo, still feeling somewhat bemused by the proceedings, finally turns and manages to get a good look at his…. saviour(?), for lack of a better word.

She’s short. That’s his first impression, the fact that she is so goddamn short and good lord, she might actually, literally be just half his size, if the way the top of her head only comes up to his chest is any indication. Aside from the height (or lack thereof), she seems fairly nondescript: short black bob, black leggings and a t-shirt with a flannel tied around her waist. She notices him staring and holds out a hand.

“Diana. We could have met in less embarrassing circumstances, but I guess as first meetings go ‘jumped in front of a knife for you’ isn’t a bad start. You alright?”

Ichigo takes the proffered hand and is promptly surprised by the firmness of her grip. “Fine. I feel like I should be the one asking you, though. You're the one that got stabbed.”

Diana rolls her eyes. “Please. As if anything wielded by a guy that skinny would ever be able to hurt me.” She grins, all teeth, and whoa, Ichigo may have to reconsider that first assessment of her. He’s suddenly flustered, red dusting the skin over his cheekbones as he tries to come up with a response. She has the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

Thankfully, the professor from earlier spares him. “Miss Kuchiki!” he calls, and Diana turns— he wants to have a few words with her, it seems, and she gestures to him that she'd be over soon. She turns back to Ichigo to say goodbye.

“Well, take care, I guess I'll see you around--"

Something clicks in his brain like lightning, and he catches her by the wrist.

“Wait. Kuchiki—? Like, Kuchiki as in Byakuya Kuchiki Kuchiki? Kuchiki as in the Kuchiki Wing in the Main Library Kuchiki? As in one of the shareholders of our university Kuchiki? That Kuchiki?”

“Shut up, fool, not so loud—!” She snatches her wrist back and looks around worriedly, though by now people’s attentions have moved on from them. She answers him in a resigned tone. “Yes, that Kuchiki. He’s my brother. It's not something I like to advertise.”

Ichigo’s mind is teeming like a nest of ants. “Why— no, never mind that question. Diana’s not a Japanese name, though--"

“It's my English name, obviously,” she snaps. “If you wanted my full name it is Rukia Kuchiki. Why are you so interested in my name anyway? Shouldn't you at least tell me yours first?”

A slow grin spreads over his face; the kind of grin that Tatsuki had once told him made him look like the supervillain in a bad shounen. He takes a step in closer to her, and Diana— Rukia, irritated, stands her ground.

His hand slips into his pocket.

“I'm Ichigo Kurosaki,” he tells her.

In one fluid motion, he pulls out his own knife and taps her with it on the shoulder. Those blue eyes of hers widen first in disbelief, and then in outrage.

“You— no. No, you can't possibly— you couldn't!!”

“Nice to meet you, Rukia Kuchiki,” he smirks, flipping the plastic knife over to display her name.

Rukia closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, like she has a headache coming on.

Then she opens her eyes, takes a deep breath, and socks him in the face.

#BLEACH #ICHIRUKI #KUROSAKI ICHIGO #KUCHIKI RUKIA #BLEACH FIC #WRITER LIFE

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natromanxoff · 4 years

Text

Drama, drama, drama... Alright, now we have one about Roger Taylor. And I strongly felt the need of making a post about this because I talked to the blogger here who shared the photo, ergo had a chance to closely follow what has been going on.

What is this I am talking about?

This photo, that has also been posted here. Jacques Dutard, who is the owner of the photo wrote this caption: “Hey, just wanna share what happened to me just yesterday at lunch... In Sardinia, at the restaurant I have Roger arriving and sitting on the table next to us... Simply amazing, exciting, awesome. Thanks Roger.” So it is about this photo that Roger had with fans on 10th of August, at a restaurant, without a mask, in Italy. As you can probably guess, the ‘without a mask’ and ‘Italy’ parts have bothered some people, then came the horrid comments.

Before I start, I want to especially specify that I am a person who is a medicine student, daughter of a doctor and whose parents have gotten the virus in the beginning of the April but still have the effects virus left on body such as tachycardia, arrhytmia, respiratory distress which appear after a physical activity. These facts don’t make me an expert but make me someone who has relatively better knowledge about some medical subjects and someone who has had a bad personal experience with the virus.

I don’t know if there’s any need for me to say that I’ve become really worried after seeing the visual, it was my initial reaction, I always dread to hear the news of their death and I was, yes, thinking what if he gets infected? My parents in their forties still have problems and in comparison with them; him in 70, what bad consequences would happen? Then, I had some other questions, I was sort of disappointed that he went out without any protection, after all that’s been said. Why?

I know, he’s a smart man and thought I can’t judge him that easily because of him going out. I considered some points and turned my disappointment into calmness. Now I am sharing them with you, especially for those who’s initial reaction was panic and started to spit venom,

Firstly, we must acknowledge that photos are capture of a moment which lasts for split seconds. All we have right now is a split second photo of him without a mask. So do we have any right to attack him for not using mask? No. Because I don’t even know if he was already wearing it or not, if he took it off for the photo or not. Maybe he wanted his smile to be seen at the photo, wanted to create a sincere environment. But we can’t create a drama out of it. Believe me, I am one of those gets so raged after seeing a person not using a mask. It’s necessary, you have to do it for both your and my health. But even I, am not going to make a story from only a photo of someone. That’s pretty normal. I have taken photos of ourselves too and I took my mask off at safe points for this only to wear it again after. However, I will never let people say that I don’t have the mask on me, how dare I can be this selfish and stroll around without any caution. No, I am very very careful and you can never judge me for the moment.

Secondly, let’s say he hasn’t been using mask while he was sitting. He’s at a restaurant. It’s quite understandable that he doesn’t have a mask. Is there anyone who can eat with their masks on? I don’t think so. I am also sure many of us has gone to a cafe or restaurant at some point since the decreases at the cases have started and shops were opened. I accept that I did but where did I choose to sit? At open-air and secluded parts of them. I have started using my mask even before the virus hasn’t been spreaded widely around the country yet, never stopped using it even if I go outdoor because I’ve always been conscious about it. But guess where is the only place I had to take them off? Yes, the restaurants. While I am eating, I have to use my mouth and I take it off to wear it immediately after I finish. That’s probably what he had to do too.

Next, if you just observe carefully and detailedly, you see a small distance between them and Roger. Perspective can fool us so well and unbeliveably. You assume it’s short length from a point but when you change your angle, you see that it is not what it looks like, it’s the opposite, the gap is huger than you think! There has been posts about it even here. What if this is the case? I don’t think that I can interpret that he doesn’t care about rules and stays close to people. In fact, he’s leaning towards them slightly, his chair and knife seems a little so we can quite reckon how is his sitting straight position. Gives me a impression that it’s far from other people and he just leaned a little for the photo because he isn’t rude to the fans. I am sure, there would be another discussion if he rejected their photo request. The man seems like sitting at the edge of the chair and there is a woman and man smiling and looking at camera in the back, at the second table. I can maybe assume, these fans came from there and talked briefly, took a photo, then went away. He always stays close with fans or puts an arm behind them on photos, if he didn’t care, he might have tried to do that again.

Another point, some researchs say that not socializing for a long time might cause regression on brain structures and functions especially of old people, who are older than 65. They already have minor of it, as something age brings with it and closing them, without any human interaction might make it worse. That’s why this has been discussed here if there can be another good way for old people because being under quarantine for months may effect them badly. Not just that, psychological effect that being between 4 walls leaves on us is a significant one. Whether we notice it or not, there is a change because we’ve gotten used to go out freely. As for him; alright, he has a big house with a wide garden, his wife with him and comparably, he has much comfortable and livable conditions than many of us. But is this really enough to stay there for this much long time and don’t go on any holiday at all? Especiallr for him who is energetic and has given concerts for all these years? Same place bores us after a point, we feel the need of change. He has stayed in his house for all this time and hasn’t moaned about it on social media like some other celebrities, he probably tried to make the best out of it; giving drum tutorials, recording a song, playing song with his friends on video call and now that he went to holiday, people started to attack. He has disadvantage because of his age but also has right and need to get relaxed too.

All people started to go on holiday. I confess, I did too. We have a private summerhouse with a pool so I have been lucky about not getting into crowd a lot but I was still cautious. Like I have woken up at the wee hours to be able to go to sea. So it’s possible to go on holiday and be safe if you take the precautions. We don’t even know what kind of a holiday he’s having, might be a boat, private rented house or something else. Maybe he was isolating himself on the vacation too. We don’t even know anything for sure. Just because we received a photo of him at a restaurant isn’t enough to throw mud at him for going on holiday. Especially not now, when everybody is having holiday. If only celebrities went to have holiday and us people had to stay at home, I would get angry too. But he’s not only one to blame at this.

Lastly, his daughter is a GP. He can comfortably ask her about what he should do or what is safer to do. Everybody likes to ask to people who’s close to them and in that field because it’s easier to learn and more reliable than internet. Like even a neighbour rings our bell to ask a medical question to my father at obnoxious hours, is he going to he hesitate to call his own daughter to ask couple of things? I doubt it. He has a chance to learn about it more and better, I am sure he wouldn’t miss this chance. He has always been a responsible, smart man and I am not sure if he would suddenly turn into an ignorant, stupid person.

I try to see your point of views too. Yes, it seems unpleasing to view him in that position during this pandemic. Yes, I was irritated by it as I said that I am much more sensitive about this and it is against my principles. But when you think sensibly, you get to the conclusion that it might not seem like what it is. If we kept seeing new content of him going around without a mask, I would totally justify you. But right now, this is not what it is. It’s so easy to prejudge someone, so so easy, what is harder is to put them aside and think carefully if something different is possible. When I think, I reach to these many points and I haven’t felt lazy to write them all because I haven’t seen enough people that think with every aspects but seen the ones who attacked greatly.

I am concerned because of his age and his choice of resturant which is relatively crowded. But as it is in the words, it’s his ‘choice’ and I can’t call him stupid because of that. I am hoping that nothing bad happens because this disease is really hell but I also trust his mind and try to think that he will do what’s necessary to protect himself. I just invite everybody to think reasonably, evaluate every aspects and not create a drama easily because we have already enough of it. Criticize kindly, I do that too - I would have preferred him do be at a safer place but as I said there is probably an explanation and it’s his will, but please don’t be this aggresive using these rude words.

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor

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