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megaboy335 · 2 years ago

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Anime and Manga Log [06/04/2023]

This week featured the monthly Jump SQ chapters, a brand new Choujin X chapter, and Ron Kamonohashi returning for Part 2. I also got my copy of March Comes in like a Lion Vol.1. I’ve been looking forward to that ever since it was licensed many years ago. A very good week of manga and anime overall. Discussion with spoilers about the following series below the Keep Reading: One Piece 1085 Blue Box 103 Mashle 158 Show-ha Shoten 19 Ron Kamonohashi: Deranged Detective 97 Pokemon Horizons Ep.9 Soaring Sky! Precure Ep. 18

One Piece 1085: One Piece has been going stronger than ever before in recent months. The Straw Hat pirates defeated Kaido in Wano and moved to Egghead. Since then the story has only begun to accelerate at a faster pace. The situation on Egghead is teased to end in a way that will shock the world. Meanwhile, Shanks has taken out Kid, Blackbeard took out Law, Kuma is climbing the Red Line, Garp went to Pirate Island, and now Sabo is finally revealing the second half of the Reverie. The status quo of the world government at beginning to crumble. This week’s chapter expanded on the D lineage in the Nefertari family. Naturally Cobra has learned too much and must die. Poor guy, too smart for his own good. We got a tease to the true form of the elders and even bigger teases to several fundamental story questions. The chapter concludes by showing how Wapol and Vivi ended up together. Oda’s paneling and layouts were oddly clearer than usual this chapter which was refreshing. Sometimes it can be hard to tell what’s going on these days. Its so surreal to essentially be getting a world update intermission in the middle of an arc. Oda is moving all the characters into position for the home stretch of the story. I’m sure the battle for the final Road Poneglyph will be fierce. Hopefully next week we get back to Egghead. I really can’t wait to see what fate befalls our crew. This is the opening act to the sequence of events that will bring the series to its end game scenario. Blue Box 103: This week’s chapter went by in the blink of an eye. It was fast paced as Taiki and Chinatsu rush to meet back at the frozen lake we saw last chapter. The climax starts in Taiki’s POV with him running up to the lake and they both sit down on the frozen lake. Miura used 3 back to back spread pages for the moment. The first spread shows there is nothing between Taiki and Chinatsu any longer. They are isolated in the same space, quite literally without panel boarders, where only the spine crease separates them now. On paper it gives the image of both looking each other in the eye. The second and third spread follows Taiki saying his long awaited confession and the camera zooming out for impact. Its just these two, and his words are the only thing that can be heard. Now the big question is will the confession stick or will something interfere with conveying those words? Knowing the nature of this series I think it will take some time for those words to resonate with Chinatsu. I hope next week starts with the same scene in Chinatsu’s POV. Surely the series can’t be ending soon. At least this is sure to shake the status quo going forward. They might be more self conscious of their living situation. Regardless, good on Taiki for this taking big step forward. Mashle 158: After what felt like a billion years, the final fight comes to a conclusion. I do enjoy Mashle for the most part. I think Mash’s out of this world solutions to overcome supernatural magic is hiralous, and that was of course on full display in the final fight. But I can’t deny this last arc has been a slog to read. Mash underwent power ups twice which severely slowed the plot. My theory is Komoto was told or decided that the manga shouldn’t end while the anime is airing. Anyhow, the fight comes to a close with the power of friendship. Current friends and former foes unite to help Mash deal the final punch to the villain. It was a great moment that culminates the series theme of Mash not only finding a place in a world of magic, but also be wanted and respected by his peers. I can only imagine there’s a 3-5 chapters left at this point. Its always great when a series closes out on a high note. Show-ha Shoten 19: This series is like Bakuman, but about comedy. It focuses on an aspiring Manzai duo learning the ropes of how to develop and perform a routine. Up to this point we’ve seen various rivals emerge which has shown us that our protagonist duo is the underdog in the upcoming competition. They aren’t bad at Manzai, in fact they have a natural talent at winning the crowd over. The biggest weakness however is their lack experience. They have learned something from each encounter to become better at Manzai. This arc was basically a pre-show to the main event. It established another main antagonist to overcome in the finals. The most important event of the chapter was learning about how to land jokes in relation to peers on the same stage and understanding the flow which comes out of that. This pre-show competition finished in a tie. That’s an expected outcome because losing would be demoralizing at this stage and the win should obviously be saved for the main event. This shows how main duo is on par at the bare minimum with the supposed best in their age bracket. Its going to be exciting to see how the finals unfold. While its possible the upcoming competition is the final arc (and Obata tends to not work on long series) I hope the series will continue for some time afterwards. Obata’s artwork is always a real treat. The loose linework gives the characters a lot of fun expressions. It seriously helps to add personality to the Manzai scenes and makes them easier to follow. Ron Kamonohashi: Deranged Detective 97: After taking a short break, Ron Kamonohashi returns to begin part 2. We left off with the defeat of Milo Moriarty on the cruise ship. He wanted to push Ron past his breaking point by forcing him to embrace his lineage and kill someone. However, thanks to the bond of friendship forged with Toto throughout the series, Ron was able to overcome his inner instinct. Milo ultimately sank into the ocean and died.... until actually he washed up on a Moriarty island. I didn’t think for a moment the series was ending. While the cruise ship was the best case to date, it certainly never once came off as the final confirmation. We had barely scratched the surface of the Moriarty family and Milo’s motivations. So begins Part 2 with a setting change to Blue Academy. Ron was finally able to get his graduation diploma, but they wanted him to teach to fill-in for a professor gone missing. Ron of courses passes the buck to Toto. There’s also several classmate characters whom I imagine will be the commentators and friends for this section of the story. I always find it refreshing when this series isn’t in murder case mode. The characters get so much more breathing when their focus isn’t meeting the plot objective of the arc. Nothing much to specifically talk about yet. The new character designs are good as usual from Akira Amano. Hopefully the school setting won’t stick for that long. I don’t think this series is good enough to stay in the same location for long periods of time. I think it would be cool if Ron and Milo had to team up against the threat teased at the end of Part 1 at some point. Pokemon Horizons Ep.9: The gang landed in Paldea and this brings the anime quite close to adapting SV. I was a little surprised when the upcoming episodes revealed they would be going to Paldea since I was under the impression the anime would be doing its own thing. But, I was even more surprised to see a certain name come up in the episode titles. First off, the plot of this episode was Riko getting one last burst of motivation to show that she is committed to the journey ahead. It was silly how she came within a second of figuring out her favorite streamer is on the ship. Dot will most certainly become a trainer down the road as the owner of Quaxly. I also can’t help but wonder why Riko went to school in Kanto (the answer is obviously to keep Ash parallels). Roy didn’t have much to do this week. Now, next week, is the debut of everyone’s favorite Champion Rank trainer Nemona. It looks like Riko might challenge the first gym leader as well. I’ll be curious to see if Riko plans to face off against the gyms throughout the series. If that’s the case, Horizons will most definitely be running for a full 3 years. Lastly, my current theory about the plot is Riko’s mom encouraged her attend school in Kanto so the pendent could be safe. Then the information was leaked to the villain group, and the mom had to hire a bodyguard group to bring Riko home. The mom probably cares more about the pendent than Riko. Her absence in this episode is very suspicious. A new batch of episode titles should be revealed this week which will be very insightful to what’s ahead. Soaring Sky! Precure 18: After what felt like an eternity, Cure Butterfly is here at last. This is once again a history making cure for the franchise being the first “Adult” cure at 18 years old. This moment is long overdue because Ageha not being a cure has gotten in the way of her participating in the battles and plot arcs. Especially have to sit out the recent multi episode trip to Skyland. The debut episode was honestly fantastic and a pure showcase of what makes Ageha so awesome. Having the transformation and attack scene animated by Yuu Yoshiyama was a pleasant surprise as well. I do have a few nitpicks. I don’t think Toei is brave enough yet to give the adult cure a personal struggle to overcome because since this is a kid’s show, adults are role models, especially someone who is just a few years older than the main cast. They have to leave the impression that older teens know what they’re doing in life. Typically becoming a Precure is a moment of change for the character whether that’s coming into their own, recognizing their inner potential, or the need to become better. Ageha transforms just because wouldn’t that be cool within the context of the episode. The girls simply needed one more cure to assist in the battle. In the end Ageha becoming a cure is much deserved. It definitely embodies the spirit of this year’s theme that anyone can be a hero. Someone who is older can still have the heart to become a precure. Ageha x Tsubasa duo attack coming up next week to balance out the team.

#Mega Log #Weekly Shonen Jump

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mediaevalmusereads · 2 years ago

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The Miniaturist. By Jessie Burton. Ecco, 2014.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction

Part of a Series? Yes, Miniaturist #1

Summary: On a brisk autumn day in 1686, eighteen-year-old Nella Oortman arrives in Amsterdam to begin a new life as the wife of illustrious merchant trader Johannes Brandt. But her new home, while splendorous, is not welcoming. Johannes is kind yet distant, always locked in his study or at his warehouse office--leaving Nella alone with his sister, the sharp-tongued and forbidding Marin.

But Nella's world changes when Johannes presents her with an extraordinary wedding gift: a cabinet-sized replica of their home. To furnish her gift, Nella engages the services of a miniaturist--an elusive and enigmatic artist whose tiny creations mirror their real-life counterparts in eerie and unexpected ways . . .

Johannes' gift helps Nella to pierce the closed world of the Brandt household. But as she uncovers its unusual secrets, she begins to understand--and fear--the escalating dangers that await them all. In this repressively pious society where gold is worshipped second only to God, to be different is a threat to the moral fabric of society, and not even a man as rich as Johannes is safe. Only one person seems to see the fate that awaits them. Is the miniaturist the key to their salvation . . . or the architect of their destruction?

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: references to slavery, racism (including the N word), homophobia (including bury your gays), sexual content, animal death, childbirth

Overview: I was in the mood for historical fiction, and this book caught my eye. I haven't read a lot of books about 17th century Amsterdam, and the premise was eerie enough to intrigue me. A potentially spooky dollhouse? Sign me up! Unfortunately, this book fell flat for me in a number of ways. Not only did the narrative structure feel off, but I got the feeling that the author didn't quite know what they wanted this book to be. A commentary on the patriarchy? A struggle against religious oppression? A subtle supernatural tale? I wasn't quite sure, so it felt like it was trying to do too much yet nothing at all. For those reasons, this book only gets 3 stars from me.

Moreover, I felt like the choice to narrate the story in the present tense had the tendency to keep characters at arm's length. While the sentences flowed well and I never felt lost or confused, I also felt like I was struggling to connect with the characters, and I think that might be because of the style.

Writing: Burton's prose is quick and engaging without feeling too rushed. It genrally balances showing and telling well, and there are some evocative images that make the world feel rich and inviting. I particularly liked the desciptions of the canals, the smells of the house, and the small details such as dog hair being embedded in the carpet.

However, I do think Burton made some choices that didn't quite resonate with me. For one, she repeats some images or phrases or ideas to the point of irritation; for example, we're reminded multiple times that the servants in Amsterdam are more open and bold than the ones in the country, and we're told over and over again that Nell, our protagonist, longs for physical intimacy and (eventually) a child. While all well and good, I think Burton missed opportunities to show rather than tell in many instances. There was no sense of longing or angst, and I wish I was invited to feel those emotions along with our characters (rather than being informed of them).

Plot: The plot of this book follows Nella Oortman, an 18 year old girl from the country as she attempts to adjust to married life in Amsterdam. Nella has married a wealthy merchant named Johannes Brandt, in part to help pay her family's debts. When she arrives at his house in Amsterdam, however, she finds that her husband is distant, and her sister-in-law is intent on keeping control over the house herself. You see, the Brandts are in the middle of negotiating the sale of a warehouse full of sugar, provided by the Meermans (who own a plantation in Surinam). For some unknown reason, Johannes is failing to sell the sugar, putting the family's finances in peril. All this is made more complicated when Johannes buys Nella an expensive, cabinet-sized replica of their house as a wedding gift. Wanting to exert some agency over her own "house," Nella orders a set of miniatures from a local craftsman, but when they show up more detailed and more "prophetic" than anticipated, Nella decides to get to the bottom of it.

Overall, I thought this plot was a little meandering and somewhat off-pace. While some of the individual threads were intriguing, I didn't feel like they came together to form a complete tapestry. Instead, I felt like the novel was trying to juggle too many things, yet all the while, the pace felt slow because there were many scenes in which the suspense was frustratingly obscure or eclipsed by more mundane events or descriptions.

I also didn't quite feel like Burton herself knew what she wanted the book to be about, and as a result, it felt like there were a few shallow attempts at a message. At one point, it seemed like Burton was trying to craft a feminist message about how a woman could be more than a wife and mother, but at another point, it seemed like she was more interested in religious persecution. Turn around again and there was a tepid exploration of race and racism, and later, a message about how society imprisons people (like women and lgbt+ folks) and makes them act in desperate ways.

All these threads could have been tied together more strongly, I think, if more emphasis was put on the cabinet house and the miniatures. As it stands, the mystery of the miniaturist feels like an afterthought until maybe 50% of the way through the book, and with all the eerie coincidences that happen with the minis and Nella's life, I think Burton could have made it much more central. The best aspects of the miniaturist plotline were moments when Nella would notice something odd about her minis and then try to figure out what it meant. If the foreshadowing of the minis had been the main driver of the narrative, I think a lot of the plot would have come together in a much more suspenseful way.

TL;DR: The Miniaturist is a novel with an intriguing setting and an exciting premise, offering an eerie dollhouse at the center of an almost gothic tale. But while there are a lot of things that Burton does right (like creating a mystery, injecting the supernatural, etc), I ultimately found that the individual threats of the plot didn't come together in a satisfying way, and the lack of a strong overall message left me wanting.

Characters: Nella, our protagonist, is fairly sympathetic in that she is thrust into womanhood and not given much agency, but that sympathy can get a little grating. Part of Nella's arc seemed to involve finding the courage to dictate her own life, and while I enjoyed that aspect, I do wish it had been developed at a more steady pace. As it stands, Nella seems to wander about somewhat aimlessly until maybe halfway or so through the book (maybe later), and then she starts to take matters into her own hands. I wish the narrative had interrogated her own beliefs a bit harder, especially her views on womanhood, agency, and morality.

Johannes, Nella's husband, is somewhat likeable in that he's kind and hardworking, yet he could be careless to the point of frustration. He's also too forgiving of people who betray him, and his arc left me a little disappointed. If his end had meant something - like a point about how society tears down people who are different to preserve its own power - then I might have felt a little more satisfied, but after finishing the book, I just felt empty.

Marin, Johannes's sister, is a bit more interesting in that she wields power without being married, thereby challenging some of Nella's beliefs about womanhood. I wish Burton had explored their dynamic a little more, especially since Marin's arc involved a lot of outward piety yet hidden secrets; I couldn't quite tell if Marin was supposed to be hypocritical or if she was in some way covering for her family, and given her end, I wish Burton had crafted a stronger message.

Cornelia, the maid, was perhaps my favorite as she was fiercely loyal, kindhearted, and unafraid to stand for what she thought was right. I liked that she was willing to go toe to toe with people who disrespected her friend, a black servant named Otto, and that she was hellbent on saving children from orphanages, when she could.

Perhaps the biggest disappointments were the characters of Otto and the Miniaturist. Otto is a black man working as Johannes's servant, and while he is not a slave, Amsterdam is clearly unaccepting of him. Given his importance in the way the plot comes together, I wish Otto had more of a developed character arc, and I would have loved to see more of his perspective, perhaps tying it in to the idea of society being oppressive and how people need to write their own stories.

The Miniaturist, too, was something of a ghostly spectre, and once their identity was revealed, the enthusiasm for their arc kind of dried up. I think I would have enjoyed their character more if we never found out who they were or what their background was, as the almost supernatural elements of the novel were spookier without that knowledge.

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ottspot · 3 years ago

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Why I’m Excited for Sonic Origins

Let me preface this entry by saying this: I am not the biggest Sonic the Hedgehog fan in the entire world. I know, what a shocker! Why on earth would Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and all the other characters in the franchise be the air I breathe, the food I eat, and the blood that runs through me? This is absolutely ridiculous!

But, what can I say? I was always a Nintendo person growing up. I loved Mario, Zelda, and Pokémon. I never had much exposure to Sonic outside of playing Sonic 3 on the Wii Virtual Console and knowing that he was in Super Smash Bros. Brawl. I always knew of him as that one blue hedgehog guy and nothing more.

As the years went on, though, I got to learn more of his past and the games he appears in. I can recall staying over at a friend’s house and playing some of the Sonic Classic Collection for the Nintendo DS and experiencing some of the older games that way, too! But one fateful day- on my birthday in 2015, I received a present that would open the door to the entirety of Sonic’s past: the Sonic Mega Collection for the Nintendo GameCube.

This was an incredible collection full of charm and nostalgia (I’m absolutely not the only one to think so!), and I had so much fun playing it. Although, I never actually beat any of the games on there, not even once! Sure, I unlocked all the games by tediously starting and exiting them so it would register in the in-game counter, but outside of that I only played each game for about half an hour at most. Maybe it was the GameCube controller, or the fact that I wasn’t used to the expansive levels or unfair deaths, but the games never entirely stuck with me.

Years later, of course, I did go back and beat the first Sonic game with the 3D re-release on 3DS, albeit with save states, but it’s a feat I will never forget. The first Sonic game I have ever finished. Period. Over the years I did try to finish Sonic 2, 3 & Knuckles, CD, and even Sonic Mania, but I never got too far with them. As I played, the drive to finish them just lessened and lessened. They were still fun, of course, but something about them just wasn’t clicking with me. There was no “push” for me to complete them.

Fast forward to today, and I am filled with more determination than ever before, as I’m one of the people eagerly awaiting an all-new Sonic collection from Sega: Sonic Origins.

Sonic Origins is a new collection featuring Sonic the Hedgehog 1, 2, 3, Sonic & Knuckles, and Sonic CD. Not only is this the first time Sonic CD has been included in the same collection as the other Sega Genesis titles (something that was originally going to happen in Sonic Mega Collection, but was ultimately scrapped), but these are also the first time that these “remastered” editions are coming to consoles! It is also the debut of the Sonic 3 & Knuckles remaster, a long-requested game from Sonic fans.

The other remastered games have been released previously only on mobile devices, with the exception of Sonic CD, which also released on PlayStation 3, Xbox 360, and Steam. They feature widescreen support, extra levels, enhanced special stages, and bonus playable characters.

Not only will Sonic Origins include those features, but they will feature an all new story mode with animated cutscenes, missions, and other tweaks and additions to make the games more beginner-friendly. The “Anniversary Mode” features unlimited lives and a new coin system that lets players retry special stages to get all those pesky Chaos Emeralds.

This mode alone has me very eager and excited to try the games again, and actually beat them this time. As stated before, I was never a big fan of the unfair deaths and challenges that led to me giving up after running out of lives. Some might say “But that’s Sonic! If you just give up and don’t learn how they work, you’re just not a real gamer.”, but it’s just how I like to play! This isn’t a piece on easy modes in video games, though. That’s another tale for another day.

One thing that people have voiced complaints about is the cost of this collection. The standard edition retails for $39.99 USD, while the deluxe edition including all the DLC is another 5 dollars on top of that. Some think that the price is a bit much for what is essentially 4 Sega Genesis games and one Sega CD game, some of which have already been re-released many times beforehand. It didn’t help that the initial pre-order chart that Sega released was the most confusing thing to read on the planet, and made it seem that things were locked behind certain editions and DLCs, reminiscent of some Ubisoft games.

Thankfully, the chart was updated later on to further clarify that some things were pre-order bonuses, and that you get everything by pre-ordering the digital deluxe edition. This didn’t exactly stop the complaining, though.

I may be a tad biased being a bit of a newcomer and all, but personally I don’t really see a reason to complain here. These are five fully remastered titles, in full widescreen with many enhancements and extra modes. For years there has been a demand to put these remasters on platforms other than mobile and an even higher demand to make one for Sonic 3 & Knuckles, and I was definitely one of those people hoping for both. After years of waiting, Sega had finally given them what they had been asking for.

I have heard many great things about the widescreen remasters of these Sonic games, that they were made by veteran Sonic hackers that know the classic games very well, possibly even more than the original developers! Their expertise with past hacks, the remasters, and even creating Sonic Mania makes me very excited. Finally, no more of having to play on a touch screen!

To end things off, I would just like to say that the release of this collection makes me hopeful that Sega will set these as the standard for future releases of older Sonic games, and that other companies like Nintendo and Capcom will take note and faithfully remaster their older games and package them up in a nice bundle like this.

And no, Nintendo. We don’t mean sticking a SNES ROM from 1993 onto a disc. Again.

Thank you for reading this all the way to the end, everyone! This is my very first post of (hopefully) many on here, and the fact that you stuck around means a lot. If you have any suggestions on this post or ideas for future blogs, please feel free to leave a comment or send me a message! Socials can be found on my Contact page.

Next up: I Might Be a Bit of a Crackhead for Finishing All of Final Fantasy XIV in Just About a Month

#sonic #sonic origins #tails #knuckles #sega #classic

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thequietmanno1 · 3 years ago

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Thelreads, Vigilantes 68, Replies Part 2

1) “Now, I do respect Makoto, I prefer characters that go after what they want, even more when its on the topic of romance. She knows what Pop feels, but she also feels the same, and if Pop won`t do something then she will. She`s not trying to backstab or betray her, she`s just going after what she wants. She`s not a fucking tsundere after all.”-The equivalent of the gentleman’s duel in romantic relationships. No foul play, but Makoto’s not afraid to escalate the situation and make her intentions known outright, not to mention willing to let the opponent have a fair and equal chance of beating them in honourable combat for the maiden- er, I mean, the man’s hand. 2) “Oh wait, the talk is already over? What? We`re only halfway through the chapter!”- Now it’s time for the other half to focus on the arc’s main POV protagonist as she deals with the fallout of these surprise twists in private. 3) “This fucking dork, I love him. And Makoto, well… Let it be known I like her better, she goes after her heart, she could`ve easily snatched Koichi for herself there, but even so she gave Pop a chance. She was not lying when she said she was fond of Pop, she really wants no hard feelings to be after this is all over.”- If you want something, fight for it. If you care about someone, fight for them fairly. 4) “Own, Makoto, that was cute, you were really nervous as well, even if you kept a poker face throughout all of it.”- Her experiences in interviews served her well.

5) “Now she knows where things stand, she knows there`s no turning back. Makoto put her on check, she can either run away or counterattack, either way the game will be over come next move.”- Just yesterday her world seemed so stable. Now everything’s changed and there’s no going back to where they used to be, and Pop can either get swept along or change and adapt with the flow.

6) “Oh boy, already Koichi? Not even gonna give some room for breathing?”- Oh he’s giving her plenty of room and time to breath it’s just that Pop’s intentionally holding her breath until she gets it right and keeps holding on to that even as she starts turning blue…

7) “YOU CAN`T RUN AWAY FOREVER POP-

WELL, YOU CAN, BUT THAT WAY YOU`LL LOSE. ONLY FAILURE AWAITS THOSE THAT TURN THEIR BACKS TO THEIR FATES!”- At least by chapter’s end she’s stopped running away, but at the same time, she’s still not made her mind up about where to start running to.

8) “Jesus fucking Christ Pop-“- Pop has rejected Koichi’s moment of romantic inquiry like Anya rejected Nightfall as her mama.

9) “YEAH POP, IT WON`T, BUT THAT WAS NOT RUNNING AWAY, THAT WAS PRETTY MUCH SAYING NO TO HIM. ALSO, IS THAT THE HOODIE?”- When she’s stumbling about through the storm of her emotions, she turns to the hoodie to give her a rock of security to brace herself against. 10) “What, gonna give him a letter? Now that might work, you just leave it on his table and run back home, he`ll call you afterwards to say what he feels. Do it Pop, go old school and write a sonnet, whatever you want, as long as you do it.”- I think her angry reactions are because she want to be the instigator in this question about their relationship, she wants to ask Koichi herself, but every time she winds up to start writing the letter she wants to give to him, he just comes forward with trying to start the more straightforward solution of asking her directly, which she’s not ready for, so she starts spiralling backwards again.

11) “POP PLEASE EVEN IF THIS IS JUST TRAINING YOU SHOULDN`T BE GOING “I KNOW YOU HAVE BETTER OPTIONS” TO THE PERSON YOU LIKE. JUST KEEP IT SIMPLE, “I KNOW SHE`S BEAUTIFUL AND SMART, BUT I HAVE LOVED YOU FOR ALMOST TEN YEARS” IS A GOOD WAY TO START, YOU KNOW?”- Pop’s insecurities and self-consciousness are almost a match for Izuku’s. Thank god he’s got all that life-threatening danger to distract him from similar romantic pitfalls with Uraraka.

12) “Also, she did write “body for days” lmao. Alright Pop, I know you think little of yourself, but c`mon, that`s not what romance is about, its not about who`s better looking or whatever, its who you like the most, and if you tell Koichi the truth about your feelings I have a feeling he`ll start seeing you in the same light.”- Though this also implies that Pop has body-image issues and doesn’t really consider any part of herself appealing or good-looking, which is kinda tragic with how many people used to come watch her shows to get a look at her butt in the early days. Pop really can’t see that she does have attractive qualities about herself that are hers alone, and stand apart in comparison to makoto.

13) “Pop please, she might`ve set up the stage, but even so you guys kept it running for over two years. That wasn`t because of her, that was all you, you did that. Even if things are coming to an end, that`s only natural, it`s not your fault, even Makoto wouldn`t be able to salvage it.”- Pop put in the hard work and effort to keep it going, but in a sense she didn’t create anything of her own during that time, she didn’t innovate or carve her own path like Makoto did and forge a career separate from the Narufest, using it as a springboard to move forward with the rest of her life, and now pop’s realising that she’s gotten too complacent about everything and what matters most to her might be slipping away.

14) “She wasn`t afraid to make illegal street shows on her own, she was the one to approach Koichi, hell she even tried to pretend to be his girlfriend, why is just telling the truth so terrifying? Because the answer might be something she doesn`t want to hear? Well, she wasn`t afraid to find out the answer those other times, and even if she was, she tried it anyway, so, why can`t she do the same here?”- Growing up and maturing means realising that some of the things you thought were so big and terrifying before were really just small problems that didn’t hurt you that much, and if they weren’t so bad, what do you have to fear from the ‘what if’ of the future? 15) “Oh my god that`s adorable- C`mon Pop, your kid self was incredibly cool, she was going around singing in public, you know how much guts you need to do that? She was badass, you should respect her.”- Standing out from the crowd and making a spectacle to send a message takes way more guts than just talking to a boy, and it’s high time Pop realised that. 16) “Also, now that I think about it, we pretty much saw so little of Pop`s career as a pop star, even though at the start she was a really big underground figure, when she came into the spotlight and became mainstream I was expecting to see more of her fanbase, but they never came back.”- Pop’s street Idol career was something of an expression of immaturity, just a young girl putting on a show to have fun and express herself without fear. As she started to take it and herself more seriously, those that were charmed by her whimsical ways on the streets naturally didn’t get to get involved in more of her concerts as she started holding them in more official venues, save a few dedicated hard-core fans. 17) “HELL YEAH POP, YOU GO GIRL!

NOW GO OUT THERE AND KISS KOICHI, THEN KISS MAKOTO AS WELL TO ESTABLISH DOMINANCE. SHOW THEM WHO`S THE BOSS HERE”- Don’t forget to T-Pose as the final step. @thelreads

#bnha #bnha vigilantes #thelreads #chapter replies #my hero academia #vigilantes 68

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smaidjor · 3 years ago

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and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 1)

Hey guys! Welcome to another angsty fic by yours truly, provider of flower husbands pain.

Some things you should know before you jump into this:

1. This is a companion fic to my fic "i know they're losing". You can understand it without having read the other one, since it's the same story from two different POVs but I think the overall experience is better with both!

2. The overall title of each fic is from the mitski song I bet on losing dogs. Chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films.

3. There is a lot of lord of the rings lore in both fics, and I mean a lot. You may be kinda confused if you've never read tolkien's works. It will all be explained eventually, though!

4. With the fact that it's a companion fic and a lot of people came here from Jimmy's POV in mind- this is a lot heavier of a fic. The content warnings are heavier and the angst is more intense. You have been warned.

(Obligatory disclaimer that this is about characters, not ccs, and do not ship real people, as always!)

Chapter Title: to these memories i will hold

Chapter Wordcount: 4000

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, panic attacks, past death, very frank discussion of death. (In general, if suicide or death are triggering topics for you, this is probably not the fic for you. Stay safe and take care of yourself!)

AO3

Actual fic under the cut:

Scott didn’t expect to survive 3rd life. No one did, he thinks, but especially not him. Clever, clever Scott, who knew his fate too well for his own good. He could have chosen his allies carefully, he knows, could have played on their emotions to make them think he was loyal until the moment he turned on them to win. He knew who the strongest factions and warriors were, the most cunning and intelligent participants in this death game they were forced into. Instead, he chose Jimmy. Sweet, dopey Jimmy, who had the personality of a golden retriever and only a handful of braincells at any given time. Jimmy, who was worth more than all the stars in the sky to him. Who made him feel alive . No, Scott didn’t expect to win. Not when it was Jimmy by his side- when it was Jimmy by his side, winning didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jimmy’s blush when Scott pressed a kiss to his cheek, the way his hair looked like gold in the sunlight and his smile lit up Scott’s whole world.

After Jimmy died, Scott stopped wanting to survive 3rd life. What was the point? The stars can shine on without the sun, but all life on Earth would wither and die. The same happened to Scott’s broken, bitter heart, he found. Jimmy was the first person in years to love him truly, wholly, with no strings attached; it was terrifying how quickly Scott fell for the first person to look at him and not expect him to be anything but what he was. Scott’s world, which used to be mountain peaks and endless blue sky, narrowed to warm brown eyes and a grin like sunshine quicker than he could comprehend. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, it all came back to him. What was Scott without Jimmy? The unwanted twin, the unloved child, the un-elven elf. Because who cared if he was a good shot with a bow or good at organizing teams or building pretty little houses? He would always be second-born, second-best.

It was fitting, really, that when Scott died, he died alone. Some might find it ironic that the man who knew enough people to fill the roster of a championship held by a god every month died without a single person to witness it save his enemies, but in the end, it was always going to be like this, Scott knew. He hadn’t been there to see Jimmy die, he hadn’t been able to hold him in his final moments and soothe the agony of death. Maybe this was his punishment. He wouldn’t be surprised; the gods of this world did not smile on him and never would. Why should they, when he had failed the only person who had ever found him good enough?

When he woke up in Rivendell, he was almost disappointed. Almost. He considered ditching the rest of the elves, up and leaving to somewhere that didn’t make it feel like the noose of immortality was slowly tightening around his neck. If nothing else, Noxite would let him crash at the MCC server for a bit until he found somewhere to go. And yet, in the end, Scott’s stubborn sense of duty won out. The elves needed a ruler. Xornoth had disappeared to god knows where, and though they had been braver, wiser, better in every way, Scott was the one who had stayed. Who was willing to take up the crown that weighed so heavily on its bearers. So Scott, who no one ever expected to rule, took up the burden of leadership.

Now, he tries and fails to get out of bed and wonders what the point of that even was. He’s fading, and worse than that, he’s fading over a human. His ancestors are probably rolling in their graves. Rivendell will be leaderless within a decade, and this time there are no heirs to take control. Not even a ‘spare’ like Scott used to be. What a mess.

There are footsteps on the stairs. They’re unfamiliar, meaning they could be a threat, but he’s too tired to bother sitting up. If he dies, well- it’s inevitable, really, in the same way watching the mortals he loves dies is.

The person comes around the corner, and Scott realizes with no joy that he won’t be dying today after all. Katherine looks both curious and concerned, but her voice tilts towards the latter when she asks “Scott?” and then, more hesitantly “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her, exhausted. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?” She sounds so thrown off by his state that Scott almost feels bad.

Whatever it is, it must be important if she’s come all the way here, though, so he gestures her to a chair. “No, no, stay. I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Nothing about the question is funny in any way, but Scott laughs regardless. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.” He offers it out, knowing the unnatural cold is unsettling no matter if you’re elven or not. Katherine does as he asks, the concern on her face only growing as she grips his icy hand.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott explains. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, a frank reminder of the slow and painful death that awaits him.

Katherine gasps, and Scott knows he’s alarmed her.

He goes on, though. “It usually happens to old elves, world-weary.” Ironic, it’s ironic that he’s saying that as a young elf explaining his own death. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

Her face is nothing short of horrified. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

He has to laugh. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.” Though he feels so much older than that, both in elven terms and in human.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.” He’s so, so exhausted. So sick of having to claw and scrape and struggle for the barest scraps of happiness.

“Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?” Katherine sounds so hopeful that the question seems almost naive even though she’s far more capable of a ruler than he is. Naive in the affairs of elves, maybe, much as she’s intelligent in so many other ways.

Scott tries not to flinch at the innocent inquiry, thinking about the deaths from fading that he’s watched. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.” And again, and again, until there’s nothing to be done but let them die , he finishes in his head.

Katherine nods, a look of determination overtaking the hope. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No. You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.” She sounds so firm that he doesn’t dare disobey, though his exhaustion makes a fair effort at convincing him to. Will this really fix anything? Unlikely. But it’s worth it to try, if only to humor Katherine. At least this way she’ll have the comfort of having tried to save him when he inevitably fades away into nothing

Scott takes her hand, though it brings him little warmth, cold from her trek here. “Alright.” He swallows the bitter grief in his throat before it can seep into his words. “We can try.”

He leads Katherine around Rivendell, taking some pride in the way she oohs over the decor. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s building. While some elven rulers might see it as below themselves to help build houses for their citizens, Scott finds building soothing. It’s one of the few skills he picked up during his time away that people really appreciate; no one wants to live in a shitty house.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

If Scott said that the name Xornoth didn’t make him flinch, he would be lying to himself. It’s not your sibling , he tells himself. It’s just a coincidence .

It’s through the virtue of years of lying that his voice comes out steady. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya-” his heart doesn’t ache when he says Jimmy’s name, it doesn’t- “well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?” Katherine asks.

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer. He won’t- can’t talk about Jimmy, not without remembering how he looked with an arrow through his throat, bright smile gone and face frozen in fear. How does he explain how much Jimmy meant to him? How much he’s now giving up, knowing he’ll have to lose it one way or another?

Katherine drops the topic, seemingly sensing that she’s stumbled on something sensitive. When she has to go home, she leaves with a friendly goodbye and a promise to visit, and Scott believes neither. Who would put the effort into visiting him? He’s not a good friend, he’s not a good king, and god knows he’s not a good husband. In fact, he’s actively avoiding his husband. He may have kept the pufferfish Jimmy gave him, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can’t fall in love with Jimmy again. Loving Jimmy will kill him. (Scott ignores the small voice at the back of his head that whispers that he’s still in love with Jimmy and it’s already killing him just as he always knew it would.)

To his surprise, Katherine does come back next week, and the week after that. He’s ashamed to admit it, but there’s some part of him that’s pathetically grateful when she shows up at his doorstep. It’s a chance to not be alone . Much as he dreads the day when she finally gives up on him, it’s nice that someone cares enough to try and save him from himself.

The third week, Katherine doesn’t show up. Instead, the footsteps on the stairs are familiar in a way that makes Scott’s heart twist painfully.

He takes a deep breath. “Hello, Jimmy.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Jimmy asks. Scott can tell he’s startled by the way his voice goes up, almost frightened.

Scott steels himself, taking a deep breath before rolling over to face his ex-husband. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He forces himself to not get distracted staring at Jimmy, instead going on before Jimmy can open his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?” Jimmy’s so curious. So naive, as always.

Scott laughs, bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?”

Scott hears the concern in Jimmy’s words, and he can’t bring himself to break the news. It’s not as if it matters. It’s not as if Jimmy would care; he came here because of Katherine. Maybe he cared at the start of Empires, but Scott’s been nothing but rude to him since. There’s no reason for him to care. (He cares. Scott’s lying, like always. Jimmy cares and Scott knows it.)

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks again, more insistently.

He refuses to say it. He needs Jimmy out, out of his room and out of his life before he does something he’ll regret. “You should go.” To prove his point, he tries to stand, finding himself too dizzy to quite pull it off. Jimmy rushes to catch him, and Scott hates himself just a little for how that still gives him a warm feeling.

“Scott, what is going on?”

He brushes Jimmy off, letting go of his arm and hurrying for the stairs. He can’t let Jimmy work his way into his heart again; Scott won’t be strong enough to let him go this time.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?” Jimmy sounds almost angry, but Scott can hear the distress under it and that’s what breaks him.

“I’m fading, alright?” His voice nearly breaks at the concern on Jimmy’s face when he whirls to face him. “I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy sputters, seemingly caught off guard. “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords-” Scott thinks back to third life- “from arrows through the throat, from grief.” The words come out more raw than he intends, leaving him scrambling to recover his composure. He takes a deep breath in and out, forcing his voice to steady again. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

“You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!” Jimmy calls after him, although Scott can hear his footsteps following as well.

“You did ask, to be fair.” Scott replies. His voice is calm. He’s fine.

“I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Scott starts towards the bridges, intending to show Jimmy the enchanting tower and then the door. He doesn’t care about how fast he’s walking, Jimmy can keep up. He’s taller than Scott and probably has better balance at the moment too. Scott’s struggling not to fall, honestly, but his pride won’t let him go slower.

Jimmy breaks the awkward silence with the question Scott least wants to hear. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?”

“No,” Scott says firmly.

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .” He can’t talk about it.

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

The words strike right at the raw wound of Jimmy’s death, and Scott freezes. Inhales. Exhales. Tries to keep calm.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Scott!” Jimmy cries. He sounds so upset, Scott’s heart aches. “I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died?” He can’t think straight through the rage clouding his head, the desperate need to prove that Jimmy’s wrong , that Scott loved him so much it’s killing him. “You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy? ” His voice damn near breaks on his husband’s name, and Scott thanks the gods he stopped believing in a long time ago that it doesn’t.

“No,” Jimmy says. His voice is soft, gentle, almost as if Scott is a wounded animal that needs a delicate touch. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

The words punch the air from Scott’s lungs, raw and soft and real. Scott is an excellent liar. Jimmy isn’t. Scott knows that Jimmy is telling the truth. What he doesn’t know is how to handle that level of devotion. He wonders again how Jimmy- sweet, genuine Jimmy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is hopelessly devoted to an elf who can’t be fully his- chose Scott of all people. Scott, who’s as bitter as Jimmy is sweet, who’s sarcastic and snarky and hasn’t been good enough for just about anything in his life. He certainly wasn’t good enough to save Jimmy, Scott thinks bitterly.

He shakes off the thought. “I buried you on the hill above our houses. I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

“Did he?”

Scott almost laughs at the innocent question. “How would I know? Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now?” Jimmy’s tone is uncertain, hesitant and it hurts . “I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott looks away from his earnest gaze, but he can’t stop the truth slipping out. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Jimmy asks, seemingly bewildered. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott doesn’t want to think about this, wants to say it even less. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says wryly, unable to resist a bit of morbid humor at his own expense.

“Scott! That’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Jimmy sounds genuinely distressed, and Scott drops the wry smile. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.” It’s a simple statement. The truth, as much as he can give.

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy’s outrage is justifiable, but Scott just shrugs.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it?” It really does. “But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

A hand lands on Scott’s arm, and he turns, startled. Jimmy doesn’t give him time to react, throwing his arms around Scott and pulling him close. Scott almost lets out a very undignified squeak at the sudden contact, though he slowly relaxes into Jimmy’s hold.

He should pull away. He shouldn’t give Jimmy false hope like this. But Jimmy is so warm , and Scott is so unbearably cold. Every fiber of his being is screaming that this is what’s right; screw Rivendell and obligations and too-heavy crowns, Jimmy is home to him. He’s warm for the first time in months, and the most heartbreaking part is that it can’t last. He can’t do this again.

He pulls away, ignoring the painful hope on Jimmy’s face. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” For the first time all conversation, his voice well and truly wobbles. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

Scott shakes his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.” The words are like glass in his throat, but he forces them out anyways. They have to be said.

Jimmy’s silent, and it hurts more than if Jimmy had yelled at him.

“Goodbye, Jimmy,” Scott manages, turning away before Jimmy can see the way his face twists in pain. He makes his retreat as quickly as possible, stumbling and nearly taking a tumble just before he reaches the door. Unlike before, there’s no helpful ex-husband there to catch him, to make sure he’s alright and ask a million questions until Scott’s forced to admit that he’s not okay and hasn’t been in a long time.

He fumbles with the latch, hands shaking and vision blurring. Finally, it clicks, and Scott stumbles inside and slams the door shut before sliding to the ground. He won’t cry. He won’t . He doesn’t love Jimmy, he can’t love Jimmy anymore. Jimmy was never meant to be his. They might have carved out a few precious moments, stolen them from the universe and giggled like kids with their hands in the cookie jar as they kissed amongst the flowers, but those brief moments were all they were ever going to be allowed. It was always going to end this way, Scott tells himself. There’s no use crying over a mortal who will be dead in the blink of an eye to an elf. What would his parents say? That this was typical of him, probably. Typical Scott, always wanting what he would never be able to have. Typical, predictable Scott, loving a mortal who shouldn’t be worth anything to him.

He’s crying. There are tears spotting his cyan robes, splashing onto the wood floors he worked so hard on. Scott rubs at his eyes furiously, but that only makes it worse, sobs shuddering through him and leaving him hollow and aching. He’s so cold . The ache in his chest has returned tenfold, stealing away his breath, and he curls further into himself, struggling for air.

He’s going to die. He is going to die , alone on the floor of his house because he fell for someone he couldn’t have. For all that he’s spent every minute since Jimmy’s death in 3rd life wishing for some way out of this cruel world, he’s terrified now that it seems inevitable. He’s scared in a way he hasn’t been in forever, breath coming quick and shallow. He's scared, and he is so, so tired of this ache that haunts him, the chill that he can never get rid of.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispers. There’s no way for the human to hear him, but the name brings him some comfort. “ Jimmy .” He wants his husband. He wants someone to hug him. He doesn’t want to fade away freezing and alone, no one there to hold his hand or reassure him that the pain will be over soon. Internally, he begs for someone, anyone who cares to come looking. To find him, even if they’re too late to save him. Someone. Anyone. Please.

No one comes, and Scott lays on his floor until his breathing steadies out again. His head spins when he forces himself to his feet, and he has to lean against the wall for a few moments. There’s no time for dramatics, he tells himself sternly. He has a kingdom to rule. He cannot afford to break over a mortal he never should have fallen for in the first place. He doesn’t love Jimmy anymore, he can’t .

(He’s lying. But Scott has always been an excellent liar, even when it’s to himself.)

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #i maintag my fic because i dont fear god or scott smajor #my writing

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kacchanrawr · 4 years ago

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Things I want to see in the future of MHA

(not just post-war stuff, but also the entire series. Some of these are kinda self-indulgent)

1. Endeavor and Hawks’ judgment

I honestly don’t know if I want to see them punished or pardoned. I’m interested in both of those so I’ll just trust Horikoshi on that one. But anyways, there’s no way they aren’t getting shit for this.

2. Whatever the ‘fake heroes’ are gonna do after this

Going back to Stain’s ideology about fake heroes. I agree with parts of it, there are a lot of people that become heroes without the conviction. They get into it by treating it the same way as any other office job, not as a mission to be well, heroes. But I don’t agree that they should be killed or eliminated. Being a hero for money isn’t inherently a bad thing, it’s when you let greed take over you to the point that you forget what it means to be a hero. Some of those ‘fake heroes’ like Mt. Lady who was originally in it for the fame and money have grown to become real heroes. Others who really have zero conviction, will probably quit after facing this amount of despair, like the guy in chapter 296.

3. The Todoroki family’s image

How will everyone else see the victims of the situation, Natsuo, Fuyumi, Rei and Shoto after this? Especially Shoto. Now that his past is out in the public, that will probably affect his future as a pro. Would his classmates and peers see him or treat him differently after this? Like out of pity or sympathy?

4. The public’s backlash in general

How will the public start viewing not just Endeavor, Hawks, and the Todoroki family, but all heroes? Will they lose faith in heroes? We know they kinda already are when UA had a lot of backlash when Bakugo was kidnapped. UA as well, will it get shut down?

5. Bakudeku’s talk

I don’t think their relationship is actually gonna stay the same after this whole ‘my body moved on its own because I care for you and wanted to save you so I just got stabbed and risked my life for you and even told you to stop trying to be so selfless and do everything by yourself’ thing. All Might also did foreshadow that they were gonna talk soon. Maybe we could get the long awaited Bakugo apology scene ? Though it feels way too soon. And if Hori feeds us Bakudekus even more I think we’re just gonna combust.

5. Deku’s character development

His mindset and view of the world will probably be way darker and even more serious after this. I also want to see how Bakugo getting hurt for his sake and saying “don’t play hero all by yourself” will affect him. We know that he has decided to become a hero that wouldn’t make anyone worry about him when he had a flashback of his mom crying and being worried for him. He decided that the solution to that is to be stronger, but now maybe he can learn that selflessness doesn’t necessarily mean that he has to carry all the weight by himself. But then there’s the 4th user’s quirk that will probably push him to be even more selfless.

6. Ochako’s development

Please please PLEASE let this girl have more development. The way her fight against Toga ended, and her seeing the grievous side of being a hero? Probably a set up for her development.

7. Basically the rest of the kids’ development?

Obviously it’s not just the people involved in the fight against Shigaraki, or Ochako that are gonna view the world differently after this. I wanna see how they will deal with this. Kirishima and Mina will probably be some of the highlights. Also Momo, since Midnight meant a lot to her when she was the one that trusted Momo to lead their classes in the battle against Gigantomachia.

8. Aizawa and Present Mic dealing with Midnight’s death

Those two are especially highlighted amongst all of the other UA staff members because they have a past with her, as shown in vigilantes. We saw their anger and sadness about Shirakumo, what more when it comes to Midnight?

9. The villains dealing with their losses

Yes, know Toga went on a rampage after Twice’s death, but how will she and deal with it in the long run? How about losing Mr. Compress? How will Shigaraki react to both of those, and having the other Paranormal Liberation Front members like Geten captured? Not just emotionally, but how about the loss in terms of strength and power?

10. Prison break arc

People have been talking about this for years, maybe ever since we knew All for One was only imprisoned and not killed. We’ll probably see it happen next chapter. Will it cause the public to lose even more faith in the hero system? How will it affect the villains? Will AFO be their boss now, or will they resist him and stay loyal to Shigaraki?

11. All for One vs Shigaraki

Related to the previous point. We know Shigaraki really doesn’t want AFO bossing him around. They’ll probably have a fight. Maybe Deku and Shigaraki vs AFO? Then they’ll go back to fighting each other once the common threat is gone. This doesn’t feel very likely, but it could be a way of interpreting Deku’s “you looked like you needed saving” at the end of chapter 295.

11. Deku’s arms?

I don’t know if I want him to lose them and get prosthetics, or get healed by Eri. It would be great to see him experience a major loss, but ability-wise and emotionally? Not so good for him, though that’s kinda the point. Also he might not be able to use OFA in his arms anymore and I kinda don’t wanna see that. Even if he can, will he be able to use it at 100%? So far, we’ve seen that the level of technology in MHA aren’t enough to withstand 100%

12. Deku mastering One for All

I wanna see him consistently use 100% without injuring himself. I want to see him do more with black whip, float and the fourth user’s quirk. I’m also curious about the other three quirks left.

13. Power buff for everyone else

I kinda don’t wanna see the MC getting so ahead of everyone else, to the point that they leave everyone else in the dust. But I know that it’s been established way earlier on that Deku will surpass everyone in terms of strength. Even now, Bakugo, one of the strongest in Class 1-A could barely catch up with 30% OFA. But from his internal dialogue in chapter 293, I’m guessing he already had a quirk evolution when he saw Deku at the verge of death. I want to see more details on that though.

14. Everyone else’s reaction to Bakugo’s sacrifice

It’s gonna be a big thing for his character and all, but I don’t think this is gonna happen because of well, everything else being a mess. But maybe at least All Might’s?

15. Deku’s father

I don’t want him to be a really big famous, important figure, or someone involved in this whole AFO vs OFA stuff. It will kinda ruin Deku’s character of like, ‘just an ordinary boy that was lucky and so his character arc is to be worthy of that blessing’. If Deku’s father was someone like that, that would mean he was the fated or chosen one in the first place anyways? But what else can Deku’s dad be? I honestly don’t know.

16. All Might’s death

I see so many people complain that he should’ve died in Kamino, but I disagree because saving that big moment for later was actually a good decision. We know he’s gonna die, he has death flags everywhere. But I wonder how exactly he will die, when he will die, and how big of an impact his death will have.

17. The final battle

As in, the last battle of the entire series. Deku vs Shigaraki rematch, Ochako vs Toga, Shoto vs Dabi. And for Bakugo, well...... he doesn’t really have a villain nemesis? (Huh maybe I’ll talk about that some other time) But the best I could think of right now is Bakugo and Deku vs Shigaraki, like in Heroes Rising. If the Heroes Rising ending was the original series ending, maybe Hori was hinting that Bakugo and Deku will be fighting the final boss together?

18. Bakugo and Deku as a hero duo

Related to the previous point. Shipping lenses aside, I think there’s plenty of foreshadowing for that? Even if they wouldn’t officially be hero partners, I’m guessing they’re both gonna be important pillars. “Win to save, save to win”

19. The ending

I want to see how they will fix the broken hero society. I want to see Class 1-A as wonderful heroes. I want satisfying closure for the villains as well. What I don’t want to see is everyone getting married and having kids like Naruto, and those kids being the characters for a sequel series. I’m sorry but as much as I like a lot of the ships, I think that’s probably one of the worst endings possible. But a next generation sequel actually wouldn’t be that bad if the main characters were the established kid characters we already know and love, Eri, Kota, Katsuma and Mahoro. We can see through them how the new hero system/society works, and maybe all the smaller subtle stuff that they still need to patch up. Other than that, I don’t think there’s anything else good about it.

20. Deku becoming the greatest hero

Also very much related to the previous point but I only remembered it afterwards. We know it’s gonna happen, but how? Also notice that while Bakugo always says ‘number one hero’, Deku always just says ‘greatest hero’, which kinda aren’t the same thing. Maybe it’s just cuz I’m a Bakugo stan, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to just let the rival characters be content with number two? Either ‘Bakugo is the number one in ranking while Deku is the greatest hero’, or ‘Deku is the greatest and number one hero but their rivalry hasn’t ended and it’s a push-pull’ thing. Or just kill one of them (cough Bakugo cough) and it’ll be fine.

21. Other people finding out about OFA

I don't think it's going to stay a secret between Deku, Bakugo and All Might anymore. At the very least, the people involved in the fight against Shigaraki, like Shoto, Aizawa and Endeavor should be given an explanation on why Shigaraki was targeting Deku in particular. At worst, it becomes public news and Deku will now have to deal with a much a greater pressure of everyone expecting him to take up All Might's mantle. I'd rather go with the former, but the latter is also interesting I guess. Or if not those, they'd have to come up with a really good excuse.

Anyways that’s all I can think of for now? There’s probably way more at the back of my head. I’ll just edit whenever.

#mha chapter 296 #bnha chapter 296 #mha #my hero academia #bnha #bakudeku #bkdk #deku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #todoroki shouto #todoroki family is screwed #endeavor and hawks #just random ramblings #mha theories #well not really but kinda

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Kiss of Death

Warnings: nonconsent (fingering and intercourse)

This is dark!(mob)Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You (literally) run into a powerful man but find it hard to shake him.

Note: So we’re taking a tiny break from Painted Windows. The last chapter was intense and even my heart needs some respite. So I let myself wonder down the backstreets and wrote some mob!Loki with a good chance of a sequel.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

After a long day and a longer week, you were looking forward to the small get together. Several nights in a row you came home late and gulped down a microwave dinner before passing out on the couch. An unglamorous life, to say the least.

For Nisha’s birthday, you agreed to meet up at a nice restaurant downtown for drinks and hopefully dinner. Tiana and Ana were already there with Nisha as you rushed in. You weren’t used to being the last to arrive. Usually you were the first there and waiting for at least twenty minutes.

You gave a frantic greeting to the small group and dropped your purse in your empty chair.

“I’m so sorry. Nisha, happy birthday but I’m gonna burst,” You said as you caught your breath.

They laughed at your panic and waved you towards the restrooms. You snaked around tables and to the narrow hall that led to the facilities. You were quick to sweep inside and into a stall. Your pants were barely past your thighs before you sat; the stream was painful and squeezed your bladder terribly. You sighed and took a moment to gather yourself as soft classical music plucked from the speakers.

Finished, you washed your hands and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your jacket hung open over your flowery blouse and pressed slacks. You wore a pair of low wedges that gave you a few inches. You were exhausted and you looked it. A night of drinking would surely wake you up… or at least lull you into the sleep you’d been lacking.

You smoothed out your shirt and slipped out of the jacket. You slung it over your arm and tried to fix your hair as best as you could. Your latest client was demanding and worse, a perfectionist. Usually, your suggestions were accepted without a single glance but Stacey Forrest was very particular. She needed to impress her new circle of peers; many twenty years her senior. Just thinking of her stabbed your temples with frustration.

You shook off the moment of chagrin and took a breath. Work was done. You had Saturday to sleep off the hangover you planned on feeding tonight. Sunday was far away at the present.

You pushed open the door and strolled back to the dining room. You spotted the table of women awaiting you, giggling as they sipped from their respective glasses, and set off to join them. In your tunnel vision, you didn’t notice the party to your right. The man whom you walked directly into and barely kept you from tripping over his leather shoes. You were so embarrassed, you hardly realized how the entire room had gone silent.

You backed up and slipped free of the man’s grasp. You looked up at him and caught your coat before it could fall to the floor.

“Oh, sorry,” You said as your cheeks burned. “I wasn’t…” You glanced around. “Paying attention…”

“It’s quite alright,” The lilt in his voice surprised you as much as the glimmer in his green eyes. “These things happen.”

“Yeah, I… Sorry again.” You sidestepped between some tables. “Um, okay.”

You spun away awkwardly as you tried to ignore your audience. Even Nisha, Tiana, and Ana had turned to watch the debacle. Well, the night was never complete without you making a fool of yourself. You hung your coat over the back of your chair and moved your purse as you sat. The room was still in a hush.

“Smooth,” Tiana raised her brows.

“Shut up,” You grumbled.

“Only you.” Nisha chided.

You peeked around at those who whispered around you and followed their own attention to the man you’d nearly tackled. He was with a group of several men and was shown to a booth near the back of the restaurant. You turned back and shook your head.

“I need a drink.” You declared.

“I’d say you do,” Tiana shook her head. “And a knock in the head.”

“You do know who’s foot you just stomped, right?” Ana asked.

“When do I ever know what is going on?” You said dryly. “So we doing just drinks or dinner?”

“She doesn’t even care,” Tiana gasped. “We should leave before she gets in anymore trouble.”

“Oh my god, what is the big deal?” You demanded.

“Take another look at that man,” Ana intoned.

You huffed and turned in your chair. You looked at the man as the server listened intently to him and you felt as if he was familiar but you couldn’t place him. He smiled at the waiter and then his eyes met yours. You blinked and spun back so quickly your chair wobbled. You shrugged as you steadied yourself.

“His name, which I’m sure will shake something loose, is Loki Laufeyson.” Tiana scoffed. “You might have heard that somewhere through that haze you call sentience.”

Your eyes rounded. A waitress appeared and asked for an order. You opted for gin on ice and rubbed your forehead.

“Shit.” You swore. “Well, I mean, it was just an accident. Not like I pulled a gun on him.”

“You scuffed his shoe,” Ana mused. “I’ve heard stories of him taking offence at less.”

“Don’t,” You warned. “I already have enough on my plate without worrying about…” You lowered your voice. “...the mob.”

“Oh, we’re teasing you,” Tiana insisted. “So how is Mrs. Forrest.”

“Nee Marris,” Ana added.

“Oh, you know, the same girl she was in uni,” You grinned. “Only this time she’s married her sugar daddy.”

“And she hired you to style her new house?” Nisha asked.

“Manse,” You corrected her. “As she prefers.”

“Definitely hasn’t changed,” Tiana smirked.

You all laughed as the waitress set your drink in front of you and you thanked her. You continued to gab over your menus and eventually ordered. You forgot about the bumpy beginning and were soon lost in the cheer. You had longed for a night out. A rare occasion when you reverted to the college girl procrastinating on her studying.

When your dinner came, so did another round of drinks. You paused and stopped the waitress before she could flit away.

“Sorry, but we didn’t order another round,” You wondered.

“Compliments of Mr. Laufeyson,” She said quietly.

You froze and the other women looked at you curiously. You raised a brow and tried to subtly look over your shoulder. You didn’t turn all the way as you sensed another’s gaze on you.

“You can thank him but we can pay for them,” You insisted. “Really…”

The waitress blanched and your friends tittered.

“Oh, what’s the harm,” Nisha chimed. “Better than him sending something else.”

“Loosen up,” Tiana took a large gulp. “The free drink should help with that.

You sighed and Anna added to the plea with a grin. You rubbed your chin and relented. “You can thank Mr. Laufeyson.”

She exhaled in relief and agreed to do so. You grabbed your glass reluctantly and sneered at the girls before you forced your finest smile. You turned and found the man in question watching you. You raised your glass at him as a gratitude and quickly righted yourself in your chair.

“Oh,” Ana preened. “You think he’d pay for the whole meal? Give him a wink or something.”

“An,” You warned. “Really. That’s not the type of man you want to owe favours.”

“Really?” Tiana challenged. “Twenty minutes ago you barely recognized him.”

“Maybe not but I’d heard of him and his… supposed deeds.” You said. “You aren’t really encouraging this, are you?”

“He must like the whole clueless vibe you’ve got going for you,” Tiana trilled. “Rather endearing even if it does leave your toes a bit tender.”

“Hush,” You hissed. “Really. Let’s eat and then we shall relocate so that I do not entangle myself further with thugs.”

They laughed and you flaked away a piece of salmon with your fork. You shook your head. You had the sense of being watched and didn’t need to look to know why. It sent a frightful tickle along your spine. You were always quite skilled at walking, or rather, tripping head first into trouble.

🐍

That night was just another fleeting thrill in a series of missteps that never quite came to fruition. You didn’t need to worry about the mobster or your little stumble. Sometimes a kind gesture was just that and a coincidence was nothing more. No serendipity, no fate, just another anecdote about how your clumsiness had nearly gotten you in trouble.

You finished your dinner and found your way to a pub just down the way. The music was a little young for your tastes but the cocktails were on special and it wasn’t too rowdy. It was like Sex and the City but duller; and likely sadder. You shared stories of failed dates, workplaces peeves, and the latest drama witnessed on the tube. Provoking stuff.

Nisha crashed at yours. You woke on the couch, the birthday girl was offered the bed. You drank coffee with the curtains drawn but she didn’t wake up until noon. When she did, she finished the pot and dressed in her wrinkled clothing. You saw her off to the station and stopped by the shop for some orange juice and paracetamol.

You spent the rest of the day in the dark with Netflix in the background. You dreaded another day of Stacey’s obstinacy. What kind of person needed more than a dozen bedrooms in one house? Oh, and she did mention their summer house in the south? Well, if you couldn’t start appeasing her Cher Horowitz tastes, she might not need you for that.

The only thing you could do to prepare was set your alarm and sleep off your hangover. When you woke, the ice pick had dislodged from your skull and the fog outside helped mute the harshness of the sun. You dressed, had your coffee, a small breakfast, and readied to face off with Stacey.

The drive was an hour out of the city. Your small car puttered along but never failed to get you where you needed. You sang along to Petula Clark on the scratchy radio station as you yawned over the steering wheel. The old house rose before you; a hideous mishmash of an old Tudor cottage and a modern geometric renovation.

You drove up the winding drive and around the back. Classified as a member of the help, you weren’t permitted to park with the Bentley and the Rolls. You didn’t recognize the Aston Martin but you assumed it was another of Mr. Forrest’s associates. You climbed out, locked your car, and dropped your keys in your pocket.

There was a backdoor, formerly the entrance to the servants’ quarters, and you ducked through the arched doorway. The old corridor had recently been remodelled with a couple guestrooms, a modified laundry room, and a wine cellar. Paintings left by the former owners had been reframed and hung. Stacey couldn’t decide if she wanted to be old aristocracy or the new age elite.

You found Stacey in the kitchen. Her assistant, Deanna, was making her a green smoothie. She greeted you with a smile and flicked her finger across her tablet.

“Just in time,” She beckoned you over as Deanna set the glass down beside her. “I was thinking this lamp would be perfect for the master.”

You looked at the image. The clear glass body of the lamp was filled with large round sequins; a fishtank of tackiness with a feather shade. You had to hide your distaste.

“It could work,” You allowed, “But we would have to revert a few other choices.”

“Revert?” Her voice went deep and she sipped noisily through her straw.

“The curtains. You want sheen or lace. Not both.”

“Hmm,” She pressed her lips together. “I suppose. We could still have the curtains, they would be cute in the loo.”

“Cute,” You repeated as you resisted a laugh. “Well, as long as we keep to that theme in there.”

“I was talking to Paul,” She batted her lashes as she always did when she spoke of her husband; you suspected she held more affection for his last name and wallet than his person. “He did mentioned he wouldn’t mind a hint of snakeskin in his office. He doesn’t want anything too stuffy or old.”

“Oh yes, he is one for the… younger tastes,” You intoned. “We could probably work it in subtly. We don’t want it to be overbearing.”

“I suppose…” She rolled her eyes and took another long drink. “Well, I’ve tracked down those lamps in the city. I say we go and have a look around the boutique while we pick them up. Perhaps we can muster some inspiration, maybe even some imagination.”

You smiled and accepted the rebuke in stride. “At your leisure, Mrs. Forrest.”

“Stacey,” She corrected. “You know that makes me feel old.”

“Stacey,” You repeated and leaned on the counter.

“I’ll just finish this and then I’ll have Stuart drive us into the city.”

“I have a car,” You offered.

“And so do I. It’s much nicer,” She insisted. “And we will discuss ideas on the w--”

She turned completely in the tall chair and stood. “Paul,” She greeted her husband in a sing song.

You watched her and angled yourself to keep your eye on her. Paul’s silver hair was thinning and still wore hints of the black dye he’d used to reclaim his youth upon his wedding day. His wrinkles deepened as he grinned and welcomed her against him. She wore stilettos and a skirt so tight it looked painful.

Your amusement dwindled as another figure appeared behind him. You recognised the man immediately. It hadn’t been two days since your first and last encounter. As you remembered him, you were sure he remembered you. You were convinced of it as his green eyes sparkled and he smirked in your direction.

“Sweetheart, I thought you’d be off already,” Paul’s arm held Stacey around her waist. “I was just discussing our renovations with Mr. Laufeyson on his way out and was about to show him the east wing.”

“We were just on our way,” She announced. “We’ve some items to pick up for the master and soon enough we’ll move onto the rest of guest rooms.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Paul turned back to his visitor, his arm still around his young wife, “Pardon my negligence, this is Stacey’s designer.” He introduced you kindly. He might have been an easy dupe but he was nice enough. “They go back a ways. To university I believe.”

“Oh yes, I was in fashion and she was in interior, and so we ran into each other a couple times a year,” Stacey explained. “She always did have a good eye.”

“Ah,” Laufeyson neared and held out his hand cordially. You eyed it and the scene of you crashing into him replayed in your head. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” You shook his hand awkwardly and prayed Stacey would not stay too long to boast.

“Actually,” He let go slowly, “If you’re not too tied up at the moment, I have a place not far from here that needs a breath of fresh air. You see, it was my father’s and it still bears much of his tastes. Not very akin to my own but I am terribly obtuse at these things.”

“Hmm, well,” You swallowed and looked to Stacey, “My roster is rather full at the moment. How many rooms did you say there were in this place, Mrs. Forrest?”

“Oh, but she is not that burdened, Mr. Laufeyson.” Stacey insisted. “We have sorted plans for most of the rooms. You might take her on the odd days, if you wish?”

Your nostrils flared. She acted as if she owned you. As if you were to be lent out like one of her designer dresses.

“I do have a waiting list--”

“We are old friends,” She interjected, “As a favour from me, Mr. Laufeyson, as a thank you for your wonderful wedding gift, you might have a consultation upon us. Right, Paul?”

“Oh, yes,” He seemed to have awoken from a trance at the mention of his name. “That old place your father kept, it could use a good dusting.”

You glared at Stacey. If she wasn’t paying twice your hourly rate, you might have walked out. You quickly wiped away your chagrin as the attention turned back to you.

“Well, I suppose if Mrs. Forrest can spare me…”

“Tomorrow,” Stacey affirmed. “Leave the address with Paul and she’ll meet with you in the morning. I can survive the day without her. The contractors will be back for the west wing.”

🐍

The next morning, you left early to make sure you arrived on time, all so that you could eventually leave on time. Mr. Laufeyson’s house was not far from the Forrests’. You pulled up to the tall gates and rolled down your window to push the buzzer. A voice rose from the crackly speaker and you called out your purpose several times before you were understood.

The wrought iron gates finally opened and you pulled through slowly. The drive was even longer than Stacey’s and the house grander. It was indeed old-fashioned. You pulled up before the large garage off the side of the house and stepped out onto the cobblestone. Your thick heel skidded over them and you nearly tripped. You locked your car and carefully walked along to the front steps.

You climbed them carefully but stumbled up the last. As you fell and scraped your hands on the stone porch, you heard the door open. You looked up and cringed as Mr. Laufeyson looked down at you. He stepped out onto the porch and you dragged yourself up by the column at the top of the railing.

“You okay?” He touched your elbow gently as you dusted your hands off on your jacket.

“Fine,” You assured him. “You know, gotta make an entrance.

“You’re early,” He said.

“Shall I wait?” You asked.

He chuckled and waved you ahead of him to the door. “Not at all. I’ve been eagerly awaiting you.”

You were silent as you neared the open door and entered the large foyer. He was close behind as he pulled the door closed and you tried not to flinch as he brushed close to you. You looked up at the grand chandelier and the towering portraits of ancestors.

“Where shall we start?” He asked.

“Well, I usually begin with a walk through and then we can go over my notes at the end. Discuss what you want to change, what you’d like to keep,” You took out your notebook as you spoke. “You’ll have a copy of it all. Should you choose to carry out the plans with another designer, you’ll still have them as reference.”

“Very well,” He nodded and you waited for him to lead you; up the stairs, through the door to your left or to your right. Just to start the whole awkward day.

“Mr. Laufeyson?” You glanced over at him and he smirked.

“Loki,” He said. “We can go without the formalities for the day, I think.”

“Loki, where should we start?”

“I know you remember me,” He ignored your question. “And I certainly remember you.”

“I did appreciate the drink,” You said evenly. “And again, I do apologise for my carelessness.”

He considered you a moment. He didn’t move.

“And you know who I am?” He asked.

“Who doesn’t?” You answered as you looked around tensely. Heat began to crawl up your neck.

“A thug, no?” He wondered. You blanched at the word you’d used only days before.

“It was a joke…”

“I do not deny it,” He assured you. “Or take offence. I’ve been called worse.”

You took a deep breath and tapped your pen on your notebook. Your turned to look at him directly.

“Did you bring me here to reprimand me?” You asked.

His smirk remained and he buttoned his jacket.

“I brought you here to rid this place of my father’s stench,” He said coolly. “And because this universe has a peculiar way of aligning the stars.”

“Left, right, or up,” You pointed to each door and then the broad stairway. “We should begin before the time gets ahead of us.”

“We should,” He agreed. “The left, dear.”

🐍

It took you all day to get through every room of the house. As you explored, you pieced together the story of the old place. A family property passed down through the generations. Nobles until the Great War, criminals in its aftermath and since. They hid their delinquency beneath their titles.

Loki seemed to have little love for his late father. His words were resentful. He explained that this was the lesser of two houses; the other was bequeathed to his brother. Expected but still a thorn.

He talked more than you expected, as if to fill the silence as you jotted down notes. Perhaps to loosen your own tongue. A man used to charming others. His words were as useful a weapon as a gun. You found it hard not to let them sway you. It was easy to see him as pleasant when his task was not so odious.

You caught yourself several times. He followed a bit too closely, leaned in a bit too much to look over your shoulders, held doors for you, brushed against you a little too conspicuously. You sensed him closing in the further you delved into the old family stead. Felt him looming around you as you tried to focus on the peeling wallpaper and golden candlesticks.

You were on the third floor. The walls were lined with geometric sconces of the art deco era. They could be restored easily and once more stylish even a century later. You reached the end of the hall and tucked your notebook under your arm as he pushed open the door there. He stepped back and waited for you to enter. You did, cautiously.

You walked the perimeter of the room, around the armoire and the bed, the standing lamp, the curled feet of the night tables. An extravagant fireplace with statues of lions on its mantle gaped back at you. You stopped before it as you scribbled on the paper. You turned and looked around once more.

“Are you set on the bed frame?” You asked. “An antique but clunky.”

“Hmmm,” He thought as he neared the foot of the bed. “I’m not sure.”

“I suppose if you removed the canopy and replaced the duvet it might…” You glanced at him and your eyes strayed behind him. The door was closed. You hadn’t heard it shut. You shook off the tremor and looked back to the tasseled canopy. “It might work but you could free up a lot of space, make it a little more open with something less… imposing.”

He rounded to your side of the bed slowly. He dragged his fingers along the bedding and stopped beside you.

“I think I know what might make it look a little nicer,” He said.

“Oh?” You kept your eyes on your notebook as you scribbled down nonsense.

“Yes,” He lifted his hand from the bed and grabbed your notebook. “I think you might look rather striking in it.”

He dislodged the book from your hand and you tried to catch it before he flung it across the room. You stared up at him in shock and he ripped the pen from your hand in kind. You stepped back, startled.

“Loki,” You gasped. “What are--”

“You knew the kind of man I was back in that restaurant,” He blocked you as you tried to skirt past him. “You knew it at the Forrests’, and yet you came here.”

“I came to work.” You insisted. “I came because another said I would.”

You tried to push past him but he caught you around your waist. He swept you off your feet and swung you onto the bed. You bounced on the mattress and sat up quickly.

“Loki,” You tried to shimmy off the bed. “I don’t--”

He was on top of you before you could get your feet over the edge. He shoved you back down and straddled you beneath him. You tried to wriggle out, tried to push him off, bat him away, but he caught your hands and pinned them to the bed.

“You knew that night who I was and what I can do.” He purred. “And I knew what I would do. Sooner or later.” He leaned over you until his nose almost touched yours. “I knew I would find you again.”

“Please,” You breathed shakily. “Please, you can stop and we can both forget--”

“I can’t forget,” He sneered. “I won’t.”

“Let me go,” You begged. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for any of it. I said sorry, I--”

“Oh, dear, this isn’t about that,” He rubbed his nose against yours cloyingly. “This is about the way that ass looks in those pants.”

You whined and kicked helplessly beneath him. “Help!” You yelled. “Someone, please!”

“I dismissed the help when you showed up. It’s an empty house, dear,” He rocked his pelvis against yours. “In the middle of the country.”

You grunted in frustration. He sat back and released your hands. He pushed your jacket open. He barely noticed as you slapped his arms and chest. He chuckled even. He tore your blouse and his hands cupped your bra. He squeezed and rocked his hips. He groaned as he groped you.

He slid his body down over yours until he was draped over you. He bent his head to your chest and kissed along your cleavage. You pulled his hair roughly as you tried to wrench him away. A hand slithered up and closed around your throat. He squeezed as his teeth pinched your flesh. You cried out from the pain.

Slowly, he raised his head. A black strand fell across his forehead. “My dear, it means nothing for me to hurt you.” His grip tightened. “So if you insist upon it, I will.”

You grasped at his hand as you tried to breathe. Your eyes watered and you nodded frantically. Your head was starting to throb. He let go and once more buried his head in your chest. His hand crawled back down as he held him over you, he flicked your fly open with one hand and pushed the zipper down slowly.

You were paralysed. Shock, fear, mortification washed over you. You were stupid enough to come hear. Weak enough to go along with Stacey’s demands. And desperate enough to be inflamed by his touch.

His fingers hooked beneath the waist of your pants and the elastic of your panties. He tore them down. He jolted your entire body and backed off of you as he forced them down your legs and over your boots. You tried to sit up but he was quick to shove you back down. He put his arm across your throat and held you there as he pushed his knees between your legs.

You shook and clung to his arm as he leaned on your windpipe.

“Loki…” You pleaded.

He tickled along your thigh and slipped two fingers between your lips. You gulped as he flicked your clit and your thighs tingled. You bit down and he did it again. He delved between your folds and your arousal was soon obvious. He returned to your bud and rubbed until your thighs were tensed against his.

“You can try to resist me, dear,” He snarled. “But know, I’ll always find a way to get to you.”

He shoved his fingers inside and you cried out. He pressed his thumb to your clit as he drew his fingers in and out. You slapped his shoulder and latched onto it as he kept on. You could feel your ascent and he urged you to your tipping point. You moaned and closed your eyes as your body quaked in betrayal. You came on his fingers. You could feel it, hear it.

You tried to catch his breath as he left you empty. He slipped his arm off your throat and leaned on his elbow as he unzipped his trousers. You squirmed and he grabbed a hank of your hair and pulled. You whimpered and he rolled his pants down to his thighs. He dragged his tip along your wet folds and you spread your hands over his chest.

You shook your head and tried to beg with your eyes. You pushed on his chest and he lined himself up with your entrance. He slammed his hips down and you yelped as he impaled you to his limit. Your fingers clawed at the lapels of his jacket as he began to rock. You went limp beneath him as your body buzzed. You were repulsed by how good it felt.

He sat up and grabbed your thighs. He held your legs against him as he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Each thrust came sooner than last, harder than the last, deeper than the last. You reached out and balled the duvet in your fists as you tried to breathe away the mixture of agony and ecstasy. It didn’t work.

You came again. This time you shook even more and exclaimed louder than before. He let go of your left leg and reached to pulled your bra down beneath your tits. He kneaded as he tilted into you.

“Say my name,” He commanded. You shook your head and he pinched your nipple. “Say it!”

“Loki,” You whimpered.

“Again.” He growled.

“Loki,” You repeated.

“Keep going.”

His name tumbled from your lips over and over. Each time he pounded into you, you recited the syllables. You came a third time and covered your face in shame. You were dizzy and confused. He sank into as deep as he could and the bed stilled. You felt him spill inside of you, his cock twitched as he groaned.

You went quiet and all strength drained from your body. He sighed and eased himself out of you. His cum leaked down onto the duvet between your legs as he crawled backward off the bed. You drew your legs together as he stood. He bent to grab your pants from the floor and tossed them over you.

He tucked his cock away and zipped up his fly. He pushed his shoulders back and let out another deep breath. He watched you smugly as you shakily sat up and grasped your pants. His eye brow crooked and he felt around in his jacket as it began to buzz. He pulled out his phone and read the screen.

“That’s the wife,” He said. “Shit. I’ll have to let her know I’m running late.”

You blinked as he turned and answered the phone. Your eyes were wide and your heart seemed to stop as he opened the door and disappeared into the hall. His wife. You hadn’t thought you could feel worse but like many things, you were wrong.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #dark loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #mcu #marvel #thor #fic #one shot #or short series #possible sequel #dark!fic #dark fic #au #mafia au #mob au

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years ago

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-14: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

“The more capable you are, the more troublesome the things you have to take care of.“

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

❖ Location: Abandoned Building

The old store heralded the arrival of another wave of visitors.

A black sedan car stopped under the shade of trees. A tall and built figure exited from the passenger's side of the car, standing in front of the door that had been left unlocked.

Evan scrutinized the ground before the door.

He turned to shoot Zhou Yan a look before he strode through the entrance.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn took away the small piece of orange-coloured paper on my fingertips.

I snapped back to reality. My tears had already slid down my cheek to the edges of my mouth. Osborn brought his thin, calloused, fingers up to my face, gently wiping the tears away.

Osborn: What's wrong?

MC: ……

I stared blankly at my palm, feeling a stifling feeling in my chest.

Here it was again. This feeling didn't belong to me. Once, twice, thrice… It had occurred with such frequency in my life that I was dying to know just what it was.

MC: Just now…

Osborn: What?

MC: You might not believe me, but when I touched that piece of paper earlier, I felt something very strong from it.

Osborn: You felt something very strong?

MC: I felt warmth and hatred that didn't belong to me, and with acute clarity.

MC: As if another soul was living within me.

Osborn slightly furrowed his brow in thought.

Osborn: Is this the first time something like this has happened?

MC: No. This has already happened thrice recently.

And it got fiercer and much stronger each time it happened. It was something I couldn't control.

Osborn lowered his eyes, his expression gradually turning serious.

Osborn: That's probably your "Ability".

MC: …."Ability"?

Osborn: It's an inherent special ability that you were born with. If my guess is right, it should fall in the spiritual category...

Osborn: You're an Empath.

MC: An Empath? And what's that?

Osborn: You can see things that others cannot. Or perhaps you can feel lingering emotions that have been left behind on items. They all fall under Empathy.

MC: I can feel… emotions that have been left behind on things? And I can see things that others can't?

MC: Are you sure you’re not talking about something that can only happen in fantasy movies?

I looked up at him incredulously, unable to help the scoff that escaped me. I thought he was joking with me. But when he maintained his serious look, I started to inwardly panic.

Since he said that I could feel things…

I quickly reached out towards the skull necklace that he wore.

A surge of anger exploded in my heart, followed by the cold emptiness of having no place to belong to. It felt as if the whole world had turned onto a single, innocent, soul.

MC: This necklace… I feel a strong thrum of anger coming from it. Have you been wronged in the past?

Osborn dropped his gaze, removing his necklace from my grasp.

Osborn: That happened a long time ago. Do you believe in your own ability now?

I quickly sorted out and digested the huge amount of information packed in his words, and even bigger questions made themselves known.

MC: But, why would I have an Ability like this? I’ve been living a normal life for the past 23 years...

Osborn: Looks like it's time for you to get to know yourself again.

Osborn: Actually, I started suspecting that you might be one when you mentioned my blue flames. Ordinary people can't see my flames.

MC: ...So the blue flames I saw in the afternoon were real? Is that your ability?

The words had only barely left my mouth before deep-blue flames erupted, appearing within his palm once more, lighting up the dark space.

I never thought that there’d be a day where I’d be put in relation to these seemingly preposterous terms. I repeatedly questioned myself inwardly: Is this really happening?

But, with the flame currently burning within Osborn’s palm, the sudden wave of emotion I felt in my head, and the strange man who was suspected of draining his victims...

All these things that shouldn’t make any realistic sense at all were now happening before my eyes. What else is there to doubt?

Looking into Osborn’s eyes that reflected the dancing flames, I felt like I’d touched upon the reticulated network of blood vessels that were behind the world.

And I had a faint inkling that these invincible blood vessels had long since interwoven themselves into my past and future, just that they’d never come to my notice.

When I snapped back to my senses, I turned to look at Osborn, only to find that I still had a huge pile of questions for him...

★Night Choice: When did you realize that you had an Ability?

MC: When did you figure that you had an Ability, Osborn?

Osborn: When I was a kid. I happened to find out by chance when I got into a fight with someone.

MC: ...So you won the fight with your Ability?

Osborn: Yes and no. We didn't actually throw hands or anything. They all got spooked from the heat in the air and scrammed before that.

MC: Did you find that many things changed after finding out that you had an Ability?

He shot me a look, raising his hand and flexing his fingers in the same manner as one would when playing with something soft and squishy, manipulating the shape of his flames.

Osborn: There's nothing particularly different. This word's still the same.

Osborn: But the more capable you are, the more troublesome the things you have to take care of.

MC: Oh… You're right. I mean, you've always been protecting me.

Osborn: So quick to write yourself off as trouble?

MC: But since I have an Ability now, I can protect you in the future too.

Osborn smiled as he retracted his flames. He patted my head.

Osborn: Your Ability naturally has strong points where it excels in, but you can't go forcefully barging in headfirst when things get dangerous.

MC: Got it!

☆Light Choice: How has your Ability affected you?

MC: You must have found out about your own Ability a long time ago. Did it affect you?

MC: Did you feel different from others around you, for example? Do you feel… segregated from people?

He paused for a while, as if I’d hit the bullseye, but his usual carefree smile quickly returned.

Osborn: Nothing that serious.

Osborn: 'Sides, don't I still have you?

Osborn smiled as he retracted his flames. He patted my head.

The icy feeling of emptiness, of having no place to belong, that had its grip on my heart all these while suddenly subsided.

Yes; it doesn’t matter whether I accept this Ability or not, for it is a fact that this Ability exists within me whether I like it or not. The trouble that may come with it may be inevitable, but fate is still something that can be affected by choice.

MC: Suddenly, I feel like it’s not all that bad being one of the odd ones out. I mean, you’re with me after all!

As soon as the words left my mouth, Osborn suddenly looked at me with a deep and inexplicable look, almost as if he’d just unexpectedly fallen into a vortex of memories.

It was obvious enough that he was thinking about something. Shock, joy, doubt, among a myriad of many other emotions that I couldn’t quite put a finger on buried bright in his eyes, like embers of a smouldering flame.

Seeing him like this made my heart thump loud and violent in my chest. I had a fleeting delusion in his trance-like moment: perhaps those memories he was reminiscing had something to do with me...

MC: ...What's wrong?

After a moment’s silence, he broke eye contact, lowering his eyes with a somewhat self-deprecating laugh and shaking his head.

Osborn: Nothing. It’s just that someone once told me the exact same thing you did back in the past.

Osborn: Unfortunately, I only ever saw her once.

So that's what it was…

MC: You never know, you might meet them again one day. Aren’t all encounters a long-awaited reunion after all?

Osborn merely smiled. When he looked back up this time, his usual playful expression had eased back in almost naturally.

Osborn: My bad; I digressed from the topic. What was I talking about again…? Oh, Abilities.

Osborn: Okay. Don't overthink things.

Osborn: You need to understand that you can use your Ability, but you must also lead a normal life. You're not all that different from the average Joe.

Osborn: Also, your Ability doesn't seem to have stabilized yet. In any case, don't tell anyone else about it; got it?

MC: Okay.

Osborn: Good. Now we have something much more important to do.

MC: Yeah.

I nodded, holding up the small shred of orange paper between my fingers.

MC: If I’m not wrong, I think the one who left this piece of paper behind was the same guy who attacked me before.

Osborn shot me an approving look.

Osborn: Looks like you CAN find him.

MC: I'll try.

I focused hard, concentrating as I carefully touched each door.

These doors didn’t invoke any special feelings within me. I was starting to think that my so-called Ability was actually just a fluke… Until a stabbing pain erupted in my head!

Grief, fear, despair… It felt almost as if all the deep dark emotions to ever exist in the world were assaulting me at once.

I could already feel the strong emotions seeping out from the door before me despite not having touched it.

Osborn: This one?

MC: ...Yeah.

Osborn signalled for me to step back and was just about to bring the door down when a small noise came from behind it.

MC: !?

I grabbed him by the sleeve and he instantly nodded in understanding.

I watched as he knelt down, taking out a small delicate tool from his pocket and used it to fiddle with the door’s lock.

As the minutes went by, the sound coming from within became increasingly active. It made me a little uneasy.

Then, a click sounded in the otherwise silent surroundings.

The door was open.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 3-11) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-16)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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writersofdestiel · 4 years ago

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Recently, we did a little reboot of our Weekly Words. You will find the details on our Discord Server. Meanwhile, we rounded up all the amazing fics that were created for Weekly Words in the year and a half since the challenge was created.

Time Flies by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: time flies

It's been ten years since Cas went to fight Heaven's war. Today, he's coming back. (Rated T, 0.5k)

Ash by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: rise from the ashes

Dean's shoulders tremble as they watch the flames devour everything he and Cas have built together. (Rated T, 1.1k)

Fate by @galaxystiel, prompt: rise from the ashes

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Dean tugged Castiel towards the storefront. “Don’t you want to find out who your soulmate is? Who you’re fated to be with?” (Rated T, 1.3k)

Equals by @galaxystiel, prompt: white wings

Castiel has one shot, and if it involves punching Crowley in the face? All the better. (Rated T, 1.3k)

Naps for Dogs and Men by @envydean, prompt: white wings

The golden retriever has been coming to Castiel's house for several weeks, taking a nap and then going back on his way and Castiel finally sends a note to his owner. (Rated T, 1.5k)

Runs in the Family by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: white wings

Dean's new boyfriend, Cas, has been wary about him meeting his child, Claire. Dean gets it, they've only been seeing each other for a few weeks. What Dean doesn't know is that Cas might have more reasons for worry than just a premature attachment. (Rated G, 1.4k)

The End and the Beginning by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: shooting star

There is only one way for Cas to escape The Empty's reach. (Rated T, 1.0k)

What Do You Wish For? by @envydean, prompt: shooting star

Dean, Cas, and their senior high school friends are on their annual camping trip. The sun has set and Cas wants some space to reset himself after a lot of socialising and Dean joins him. (Rated E, 1.5k)

Fearful by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: maze

It comes for children, it feeds on their fears. Dean and Cas arrive to end its reign of terror. (Rated T, 1.4k)

All Those Summer Nights by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: tell me more

It was the best summer of Dean's life - spent on relaxing, parties and fun. And most importantly, spent with a blue-eyed boy he met one day on a beach. But the summer's over now, the school year begins, and Dean's left with the memories of his first summer love. (Rated T, 1.4k)

Tell Me More by @thunderthighsmish, prompt: tell me more

“Good night, Dean. I’ll see you in 2 days. Be a good boy for me?” “I will,” Dean promised. “I love you.” (Rated E, 0.8k)

For Better Or Worse by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: through the fire

When they first meet, Cas saves Dean from school bullies. Over the years, their friendship only grows stronger. (Rated T, 1.4k)

Missing Piece by @fangirlingtodeath513, prompt: missing piece

Castiel and his garrison are given the assignment to rescue the Righteous Man from Hell. (Rated T, 0.8k)

Look What The Cas Dragged In by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: flowing teardrops

There’s a guest in the bunker. Dean’s nose is not a fan. (Rated G, 1.0k)

Teardrops For You by @envydean, prompt: flowing teardrops

The accident killed her and left Dean alive and emotionally broken. He's a disgrace. His best friend is dead and he can't even cry for her. (Rated T, 1.5k)

Christmas Sweaters In June by @envydean, prompt: ugly sweater

“Love,” Cas says suddenly in his ear. It makes Dean’s heart jump and his lungs constrict. “Wha-what?” Dean stutters, head turning to Cas whose eyes are still fixated on the screen. “L-O-V-E. Love, it’s the one you’re missing from this round.” Dean looks back down at his screen and sees Cas’ finger linking the letters together. “Oh,” Dean breathes. (Rated T, 1.5k)

Will You Bee my Valentine? by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: ugly sweater

Dean's tradition on Valentine's Day was always to go out and look for someone to spend the night, but this year he decided to stay home, which was his best decision. (Rated G, 1.1k)

I've Never Wished for Anything more than You by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: i wish

Dean has lost many people before—it’s practically a normal thing in his line of work—but none of them hurt as much as Castiel’s death. Especially because Dean is sure there’s no possible way for the angel to come back again. Or so he thought. (Rated G, 3.0k)

A Drive Under the Moonlight by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: moonlight

Dean has had a lot of fights with Sam—growing up so close together can do that—but sometimes he just can’t stand being near his brother, so he just takes Baby for a drive until his head gets clear. (Rated G, 2.5k)

Cas Loves Emoticons, Burgers, and Dean by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: emoji

Cas has always known that his husband can be a real pain most of the times, but he brings burgers so Cas always forgives him. (Rated G, 1.1k)

Dean + Alcohol = Loose Lips by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: too many beers

Dean has done some pretty stupid things while being drunk—there are some he would even rather not think about. But when he wakes up that morning, he’s pretty sure that what he did last night will be on his Top 3: after almost a decade of hiding his feelings from Cas, he just practically wrote them on a brick and threw it on his best friend’s face—or maybe that would’ve been a little more subtle than what he did. (Rated T, 4.3k)

Intoxicated by @envydean, prompt: too many beers

Cas finds Dean drunk in the fourth bar he searches after Dean sends some worrying texts to him. Dean has surpassed his flirty, chatty self and fallen headfirst into feeling utter desolation. It leaves Castiel to pick up the pieces. (Rated T, 1.4k)

The Case of the Missing Paper by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: origami

Dean has always been sure the bunker is haunted, even when everything pointed to the fact that it’s not. But when all of the paper in the bunker starts to go missing, Dean starts to think that maybe he’s right or there’s someone messing with him. (Rated G, 3.6k)

A Lost Teddy Bear and a New Found Love by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: stuffed animal

Dean has always been very responsible, especially when he needs to take care of his niece, Mary. But when they can't find her stuffed animal (a Stitch that's a few years younger than Sam), Dean starts to panic, not knowing what to do. Good thing the hot neighbor comes to save the day. (Rated G, 4.7k)

Meeting Emma by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: stuffed animal

Dean’s pacing the hospital corridor like some nervous expecting father. After all, that’s who he is right now. And the daughter he didn’t know he had will be here any moment. (Rated G, 1.9k)

Ambiguitatis Error Est by @fangirlingtodeath513, prompt: i miss how you were here

Dean's pulling away from his close-knit friend group and Castiel is determined to find out why. If he finds some other things out along the way, he won't complain. (Rated G, 1.6k)

Up On The Rooftop Greenhouse by @envydean, prompt: fighting destiny

Michael Shurley is Dean Winchester's true mate. Except, Dean has been in love and dating the Winchester house gardener, Castiel Novak, for nearly three years and Dean doesn't want that to stop. He needs to find a way out of the impending wedding before it's too late, especially when Michael shows his true colours. (Rated T, 5.0k)

With Eyes Wide Open by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: insomnia

Insomnia wasn’t one of Castiel’s favourite parts about humanity, but he loved what he could do in that free time—which, most of the time, involved Dean. (Rated G, 0.9k)

Cheer-Up Food by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: baking

Cas and Sam decide to make a pie for a grumpy Dean. (Rated G, 1.4k)

If Castiel Was A Cake by @envydean, prompt: baking

Castiel comes home to a stressed Dean baking a lot of cakes. So, he decides that a gathering of friends is the best way to keep Dean's mind off everything and it comes with a bonus extra Castiel has been waiting on for years. (Rated T, 2.0k)

As Many Kisses As You Want by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: kiss me

Dean gets really hurt in a hunt and Castiel has no idea what he's supposed to do. He really doesn't. (Rated T, 4.4k)

Kiss Me by @peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim), prompt: kiss me

Dean’s spur-of-the-moment ideas aren’t always the best, as lots of people are able to attest. And his last one really took the cake. Because now he’s unable to forget the taste of Castiel’s lips and he’s got no freaking clue how to deal with this. (Rated T, 4.2k)

The Dare On Your Lips by @envydean, prompt: kiss me

Dean Winchester has had the biggest crush on Castiel, but believes that Castiel isn't interested. Then on one drunken night, Dean is dared to kiss Castiel. (Rated T, 1.5k)

Not According To Plan by @peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim), prompt: proposal gone wrong

A fire truck, a smoky kitchen and an unexpected surprise are awaiting Dean after coming back home from work. (Rated G, 1.7k)

Proposal Gone... Right? by @fangirlingtodeath513, prompt: proposal gone wrong

Dean's been planning this proposal for a long time, but on the day he's actually supposed to propose, nothing seems to go his way. Will he actually manage to propose without everything falling apart? (Rated G, 1.1k)

#fic collection #writersofdestiel #destiel fanfic #destiel #event: weekly words

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dudeandduchess · 5 years ago

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Obsession: Yandere!Kyōjurō x F!S/O (Slight NSFW Scenario)[Part 4]

Summary: A sweet moment where (Y/n) finally realizes her growing feelings for Kyōjurō— as well as her growing lust for him. Kyōjurō also comes clean about their past engagement.

Note: I was so inspired by Little by Little by CHEEZE for this one because the meaning of the song is just too sweet and extremely appropriate for the fic… once we all look past Kyō being a yandere.

Also, forgot to mention that Kyō is 25 here, while (Y/n) is 23.

Warnings: Language, Making Out, Sexual Thoughts

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 5

***

It was only the second day of Kyōjurō’s stay with his beloved and her family, yet he could feel his long awaited victory bubbling up within him. He hadn’t intended on staying for more than a day, yet things had turned to his favor when (Y/n)’s father recognized him.

Kyōjurō hadn’t been counting on that at all, but it seemed that he was receiving some divine intervention.

Especially since the (L/n) patriarch had offered to rekindle the severed engagement between him and (Y/n); all because he had saved them from that demon. Little did the other man know that it was all falling according to his plan— though much quicker than he had thought was possible.

If he kept things up, he would be married to (Y/n) by the end of the following month. And he was extremely excited for that.

He couldn’t wait to take her fully, and to have her warm his bed— and his cock— every night.

As it was, he was having such a hard time concentrating on his training, what with her casting not-so-subtle glances at him from where she sat—by a window— inside the main house.

Whenever he would look over at her, she would look away from him— or she would take an abrupt sip of her tea— which always elicited a chuckle from him.

(Y/n) was being too adorable and, if it were up to him, he would go over there and wrap her up in his arms. But he knew that he had to be patient, as he needed to earn her trust first; and all he could do to tide his feelings over was to pleasure her over and over at night.

He was just about to go back to practicing his forms, when a brilliant idea hatched itself in his head.

And without much thought about it, he swung his sword in an arcing motion— purposely making himself loose his footing, which sent him and his sword falling to the ground.

Kyōjurō had to admit that it had hurt quite a bit to fall, but it was all worth it when he heard (Y/n)’s panicked yelp before being followed by her running out to where he was— in only her tabi, no less.

It had a the Hashira stifling a smile, as he willed his expression to show a sheepish one, as she knelt down next to him and tried to help him up. She was even completely unmindful of the way that her right hand laid flat against the young man’s chest, while the other one wrapped itself around his arm— all to help him up from the ground.

“Are you alright? Did you sprain your ankle?” (Y/n) asked worriedly, with her eyebrows knitting together with mild frustration and a bit of worry.

In her defense, it was because he was their guest. But deep down, she knew that it was something that ran deeper than that superficial reason.

But she couldn’t dwell on that at the moment— especially when Kyōjurō tried to put some weight on his right foot, only to wince; albeit sheepishly.

Little did she know, he was only faking his injured act; and he was faking it well.

“I- I think I did,” The blond admitted with a self-deprecating grin, before making a show of hissing while laying his right foot flat on the ground. “But I’ll be fine, (L/n)-san. You don’t have to worry yourself about me.”

And that infinitely made (Y/n) feel worse.

Her eyes zeroed in on the blond’s ankle— then flickered back to those enchanting irises of his— as her heart hammered wildly inside her chest, both with worry as well as trepidation about what she was about to do.

So, before she could second guess herself, she took his left arm and moved to sling it around her shoulders; looking down at the ground as a vibrant blush warmed her entire face.

And Kyōjurō saw all that happen, since her blush extended all the way up to the tips of her ears— which he found even more adorable. Especially when she pursed her lips as she wrapped an arm around his waist.

The prolonged contact with her out of the bedroom had him biting back a grin, yet he couldn’t help but eventually let it tug up at the corners of his lips— what with the bliss and contentment that filled his chest.

Because he might have gone about things in such an underhanded manner, but the fact didn’t change that he loved (Y/n) very much; ever since they were children, up until that very moment— and he was only growing to love her even more, with every second that passed with her.

Slowly, they made their way to the engawa— the one that was her favorite spot to sit at in the afternoon— and the young woman deposited him onto the lip of the elevated flooring.

He felt a small sense of loss when she removed her arm from around him, but he couldn’t let it show on his face as she stepped back to survey him with a forlorn expression on her face.

“Stay here, I’ll go get your sword.”

And once (Y/n) had turned her back on him, Kyōjurō made quick work of pulling his scabbard from his belt. He then set it down beside him, all while propping his right leg up by the heel of his foot— if only to make his lie even more believable.

All the while, (Y/n) was thinking of what she could do to help him. She could always call the maids to help, but a tiny— and extremely selfish— part of her wanted to be the one to take care of him.

If she were to be honest, she would admit that she felt a connection to him; not only because of her raunchy dreams, but because of something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Instead of dwelling on what the reason for that connection was, the young woman shook her head and leaned down to pick up Kyōjurō’s sword by the hilt; surprised at how even the blade weighed in her hand.

She didn’t know much about blades, aside from how to protect herself with them, but she could already tell that a master craftsman had put in so much work into the piece in her right hand.

So, that made her all the more careful with it as she walked back to Kyōjurō and gingerly stood beside him to sheathe the blade for him.

It was such a bold thing to do, but she couldn’t find the words to even say to him— because every time she looked up into his eyes, her heart would figuratively leap into her throat, and her nervousness would keep her from thinking any coherent thoughts.

Despite her silence, however, she couldn’t hide her expressions very well— or at all, really; which the Flame Hashira found to be extremely endearing.

He found himself smiling then, a much smaller and more tender one than his usually bright grins. It was a smile that was reserved just for her.

“Don’t look so worried, (L/n)-san. I’ve had far worse injuries when we were younger.”

By the way that (Y/n)’s eyes widened, he knew that his purposeful faux pas had done its job and piqued her curiosity. He could see the confusion burning in her eyes, as she finally looked back into his own fiery ones— and he had to resist the urge to hum in contentment.

“’We’, Rengoku-san?” Even just having his name rolling off of her tongue sent tingles racing all over her lips; pleasant ones that coaxed (Y/n) into licking her bottom lip.

As far as she could remember, she had never seen him before— at least outside of her dreams. Yet, the more that she looked at him, the more that she could faintly remember seeing those fiery eyes of his.

The memory that played in her head was a faint one, and she could barely make sense of it, but she swore that something really did seem familiar about Kyōjurō.

As if they had met a long time ago.

She waited with baited breath for his answer then, fully anticipating any and every word that would fall from his lips. All while her heart began to pick up the pace, making her feel like she had ran all the way home.

“Why don’t you sit down first?” And with those words hanging in the air, the Hashira offered a hand out to her, all so he could guide her to sit beside him— like a true gentleman.

If he hadn’t been faking an injury, he would have even stood up. But, as it was, he had to keep up the ruse.

However, his mild disappointment— at not being to properly be able to help her— was replaced with a pleased yet flustered grin, when he caught sight of the even more intense blush that colored (Y/n)’s cheeks after she took his hand. Especially when he tightened his hold on her, and he saw her bite down on her bottom lip.

“Don’t look so adorable, (L/n)-san… you might make me fall in love with you all over again.”

At those words, the young woman immediately ducked her head with a squeak, which had Kyōjurō outright laughing as he sat her down next to him.

He wanted to compliment her even more by saying how beautiful she looked, but he knew that he had to hold himself back— as that would come across as really creepy to her, since they had only just met.

At least, she had just met him again. Such wasn’t the case for Kyōjurō whom had been watching her for the past few years. Ever since he’d taken to training by himself at nine, he’d been travelling from his village to (Y/n)’s to see her.

His father had given up on training him, as well as being a responsible father altogether, so he had free reign to do whatever he wanted.

Though, he did keep his visits to a minimum, so as not to arouse much suspicion.

And he believed that it had been purely by fate that he had seen her so easily that New Year’s day, even though he knew that she and her family were required to visit that particular temple— as it had been dedicated to her family.

It was just a shame that she didn’t see him then, but he couldn’t complain about it as he reluctantly let go of her hand; only after rubbing the pad of his thumb across her knuckles.

“It would make sense that you don’t remember me at all, since my father ended our engagement when you were only six,” The young man explained, tacking his forlorn sentence off with a sigh, before looking up at his beloved. “But your father would always take you to visit my family’s estate. He and my own father were really good friends, until mine gave up on the way of the sword… as well as living, altogether.”

(Y/n) felt her throat thicken up at the sadness she felt wafting from the man beside her and, before she could stop herself, she’d already reached out and placed a hand on top of his right one; reluctantly and gingerly at first, until she threw most of her trepidation to the wind and squeezed her fingers around his own.

After all, he was the man whom had saved her family. And he had no reason to lie to her, so she found herself leaning towards wholeheartedly believing his story about them.

And, surprisingly enough, she also found that she didn’t mind finding out that she had been engaged to him— at least, once upon a time.

In fact, she felt a little sad that their engagement had been severed.

Still, she remained silent— opting instead to return Kyōjurō’s soft smile when he looked up at her from beneath his lashes, after letting his gaze linger on his feet.

“You don’t think I’m lying?” He asked softly, with a small grin playing at his alluring lips. They were beckoning to (Y/n) so much that she had to bite down on her bottom lip once more— if only to wake her up from her single-minded focus on his mouth.

Then, she found herself shaking her head. “Oddly enough, no.”

“That’s good,” The blond answered sincerely, as he let their conversation taper off into a comfortable silence for a few seconds, before adding with a much more confident tone, “That’s a relief, really. Like a thorn plucked from my side!”

And (Y/n) couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm, all while her heartbeat echoed in her ears— because, if she were to be honest, she would say that he was absolutely shining and as captivating as the sun.

Especially with that grin of his trained right at her.

They didn’t even notice how quickly time had passed them by after that, with Kyōjurō taking the helm and taking their conversation to new heights; with him doing most of the talking.

However, even if (Y/n) didn’t respond much verbally, her giggles and smiles— as well as the occasional laughter— served to warm the Flame Hashira’s heart even more.

And, he realized that with every passing second, he found himself falling deeper and deeper for her; more than he thought he could have. It made him want to keep her by his side all the more— to shelter her and protect their future children by hiding them away from the world.

But more than that, he wanted all of (Y/n)’s smiles to be only for him. He wanted her to exist only for him, to be the first thought on her mind when she woke up— and to be the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes at night.

He wanted his name to be the only one to fall from those sinfully seductive lips of hers, and he needed to be the only one to ever touch her body; to have been the only man to fill her up with his seed.

After all, it was why he had started to visit her in the dead of the night; making do with her considering him a dream, just so he could tide his lust over— and to also begin his long-plotted out scheme to make her fall in love with him.

Things had started out so simple in her ‘dreams’ back then; with mere kisses on her cheeks and lips, which gradually increased with the frequency that Kyōjurō took detours during his missions.

Eventually though, the conversation between (Y/n) and Kyōjurō died down into a comfortable silence; with both of them looking out at the garden, until the young woman all but jumped up from her seat.

“Your ankle! I forgot all about it!” Just as she was about to get up, the Hashira flipped his hand over and locked his fingers around hers— which also made him realize that she’d been holding his hand during the entire time that they sat together.

And that… that had his heart racing frantically in his chest; both with joy and excitement.

When (Y/n) realized just what she had been doing for the past hour or so, however, her eyes immediately widened and she had to bite back a surprised squeak at her boldness.

She couldn’t believe that she had been so forward with him; even clinging to him like that, though it was subconscious. Kyōjurō was doing so many things to her… while making her do things that she normally wouldn’t.

It was as if she was getting to know a whole new facet of herself; one that she hadn’t known could even exist. Yet she found that she liked that. A lot.

“I’ll be fine, (L/n)-san. After all, I’ve had you with me for a while,” The blond piped up with a boyish grin, even squeezing the hand that was in his own before adding softly, “I couldn’t even feel the pain at all.”

A frown crossed (Y/n)’s lips at that, eyes darting over to where his right foot was still somewhat propped up on the ground, before looking back at his face. Only to realize that he had gotten much closer than before.

Part of her wanted to pull away from him but another, much bigger part, screamed at her to lean forward to meet him halfway.

Because she wasn’t dumb— she knew what he was trying to do. And surprisingly enough, she didn’t mind his advances at all.

In fact, she found them cute; along with his little flattering lines.

Inch by inch, both of them moved closer. Until they were a mere hairsbreadth away from finally touching lips. She could even feel his warm breath fanning across her lips, while her eyes began to flutter closed in anticipation for her first actual kiss.

Since the kisses she’d experienced with him in her dreams didn’t count at all. Plus, she was sure that feeling the real thing would be especially better than the same lips she always felt on her skin in her sleep.

“(Y/n)-sama, we’ve prepared your meal in the dining room.” The unexpected voice caused both (Y/n) and Kyōjurō to spring apart, with the latter hiding a look of irritation that briefly crossed his features— before putting on a sheepish smile, and reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

Meanwhile, the young woman swallowed thickly and forced herself to look away from the man next to her; if only to hide the vibrant blush that colored her cheeks once more.

It seemed that all she had been doing around him was blush and look flustered; and that did not sit well with (Y/n) at all.

“Rengoku-san is injured… so he’ll be taking his meal in his room,” She answered stiffly, all while straightening her posture out from the relaxed state that it had been in.

“You don’t have to-” Kyōjurō tried to begin only to be cut off with a fervent shake of his beloved’s head.

“You’re our guest, and we…” (Y/n) pursed her lips at that, taking a moment to think her words over, before deciding to come clean to him. “I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

At that, all of the protests that the blond had on his tongue died an instant death. Because for her to say something so adorably caring had him feeling like he was in bliss.

Even more blissful than when he had filled her up with his cum the night before.

“Okay.” Kyōjurō’s quiet answer was met with a bashful nod, which then turned into wide-eyed surprise when he asked, “Would you mind helping me get to my room?”

(Y/n) could have said no— if only for the sake of sparing her heart from more exercise— but she found herself giving in to his whim; gingerly getting up from her seat and watching as the Hashira limped over to sling an arm across her shoulders.

And with her right arm snugly wrapped around his waist— and her left hand pressed against his chest to help with his balance— they left the confused (yet extremely excited) maid behind. The older woman couldn’t wait to tell all of the other maids about the possibility of the young lady of the house getting married to their esteemed guest.

***

More than ten minutes had passed since (Y/n) began to traverse the house with Kyōjurō, to get him back to his room. Normally, it would have taken no more than a minute to get there. But with him limping horribly, they had to take it easy.

Which played so much into the young man’s favor; as he got to hold (Y/n) even longer. Albeit under the guise of being injured.

But when they reached the door to his room, no one made a move to open it. As if opening it would burst whatever bubble that they were ensconced in; and that it would break the tranquil spell that they had fallen under.

Instead, both of them simply stood in the hallway, with Kyōjurō turning his body slightly so that he was fully facing (Y/n). While the young woman, in turn, stayed right where she was and met his soft gaze head on.

Both of them moved to speak, only to have no words come to them— resulting in their mouths just trying to form the words, before being followed by cheesy grins.

Only, instead of staying firmly on their lips, their mirthful expressions tapered down into ones that reflected the longing both of them felt inside; all because their kiss from earlier had been interrupted.

And slowly, they gravitated towards each other; being sucked in to the other’s minuscule universe, and getting swept up in the feelings that brewed within them.

Irrevocable love and obsession for Kyōjurō, and a budding fondness as well as admiration for (Y/n).

Closer and closer, both of them went… until they were back in the same position as before they got interrupted; with the Hashira’s breath fanning once more against his beloved’s lips, and (Y/n)’s lips trembling in the slightest way as her eyes began to flutter closed.

With baited breath, the young man took a few seconds to commit to memory just how beautiful she looked in front of him; waiting for him to finally close the tiny gap between their lips.

The smile that tugged on the corners of his lips were instantaneous, and he waited no more as he leaned in and finally captured (Y/n)’s lips in a kiss.

It was short and sweet at first; a little lingering, but Kyōjurō dove back in for another one— much hungrier than the first, which his beloved was only more than willing to succumb to.

She tasted so much like the jasmine tea that she had been drinking earlier, but the young man still found himself wanting to taste more of her. So, he gently coaxed her lips open with his tongue; tentatively touching the tip to hers, and letting her come to him.

But when she poked her tongue shyly between his lips, he was all too eager to suck on it; before sliding his own tongue against hers in such a lewd kiss that had his cock stirring within his pants.

His arm around her shoulders tightened as he pulled her closer, silently thankful that she was too preoccupied to notice that he was no longer putting his weight on just one leg.

However, when she realized just what they were doing— and where they were doing it— (Y/n)’s eyes snapped open as she pulled back from Kyōjurō, despite wanting to lose herself in the kiss even more.

“I… I…” She tried to whisper through her ragged breaths, but failed to even articulate any coherent sentences. “I’ll get… bandages.”

Instead of replying immediately, however, the Flame Hashira smiled at her, before claiming her lips in a kiss once more. “I’ll be fine. I just need you to stay with me… (Y/n).”

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c-c-cherry · 5 years ago

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Part Four Headcanons!!

@tyriantyrant Father...I’m so sorry this took so long...but it is finally here. The moment has come.

@jjadegreen is and always will be my headcanon buddy and she really took the reins on this one because my stupid mushy brain could barely think of ANYTHING. Go check her out. She makes good shit. If you like headcanons you’ll love her.

Without further ado, join us on this long-awaited half-crack half-serious journey once more:

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Okuyasu

-He swallowed a spoon. Like...one of those tiny collector spoons...

-Don’t ask me how Okuyasu managed to do this, but he did.

-He was sitting in his room trying to think of something cool he could do in front of Josuke and he was like

”Bro what if I did some kickass spoon trick” (Yes, he did find a little collector’s spoon at an antique shop and bought it cause it was shiny)

-It did not go well

-He choked on it for like a solid 2 minutes before he FUCKING SWALLOWED IT and sat there for 15 minutes like “oh shit oh fuck-”

-His dad was just watching from the corner like ;-;

-At first he’s like “ahh it’ll be fine, right?”

-”Right?”

-Then he starts thinking about it a bit more and realizes how fucked he probably is

-He COULD call Josuke but he really doesn’t want to explain to him that he not only swallowed a tiny fucking spoon but he also did it while simultaneously trying to think of something cool to do in front of him

-So he doesn’t call Josuke

-Instead he paces around, trying to think of some solution:

Can I throw it back up or something?

Should I like...drink that stuff that makes metal dissolve? That’ll work, right? Shit wait-

Maybe it’ll just turn out okay?

-His chest is on FIRE and he’s absolutely convinced that this is the end for him

-He calls Josuke

-There are tears...many tears

-Our boy Josuke rushes over and starts freaking out because all he knows is “Oku’s hurt” and when he bursts through the door Okuyasu’s just sitting on the couch crying and Josuke’s just “???”

-He’s the most supportive bro tho and sits down on the couch and is like “oh shit bro did you need emotional healing instead? I gotchu either way” :’)

-He reaches over to hug him and Oku jumps back in a panic and screams “NO DUDE DON’T JOSTLE THE SPOON”

”...”

“..the spoon?”

-He tearily explains the spoon

-It ends with Josuke punching the spoon out of him with Crazy Diamond but he found the entire situation so fucking funny because Oku is so fucking mortified

-he swore not to tell a soul and keeps to his word but he buys Oku a tiny spoon every goddamn chance he gets

Rohan

-Most of the time, Rohan does not embarrass himself

-But sometimes our man slips up a bit and most of the time people don’t notice the dumb shit he does cause he’s always doing dumb shit

-But this is different

-Picture an almost empty house...instant ramen wrappers everywhere...alcohol has been consumed…things have been done...

-Rohan thought this was the best time to answer some of his fan’s FAQ’s (he puts them at the end of every new issue)

-He answers most of them fine but once he comes to the “how tall are you?” question his mushy stupid brain decides to put “about ten inches.” (GOD I'M BEGGING YOU IF YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS REFERENCE OPEN GOOGLE AND LOOK UP “how tall is Rohan Kishibe?” PLEASE PLEASE I BEG)

-Just for fun

-Because his editor will just fix it, won’t they? Even if he wakes up the next morning and forgets about it, it could never get past the other stages of publishing, right?

-Wrong.

-It manages to slip past every single stage and before he knows it, the latest issue is out and it says he’s almost a foot tall

-He’s reading the one of the newly published copies at breakfast and SPITS OUT HIS FUCKING LUKEWARM SHITTY TEA

-He calls his publisher and just like “uhhh...hey...what the actual fuck guys?” and apparently NONE Of THEM NOTICED??

-They swipe them off the shelves and re-edit them but by now its far too late

-Josuke and Okuyasu have already made jokes about squishing him

-He gets fanart of him being the size of a pencil (which he’s convinced are also done by Josuke and Okuyasu)

-The banned issue where Rohan discloses his supposed “true height” is a novelty collectors item in the manga community now

-This is Rohan’s legacy now. This is how he will be remembered

Josuke

-He wanted to be super edgy when he was around 14

-And what better way to be an edgy 14 year old than with cigarettes??

-The problem is that he’s a literal fucking dumbass and doesn’t know how they work

-Like at all

-He somehow gets his hands on a pack and tries to do it in front of his friends to impress them

-He doesn’t light it. He just...sucks on it??

-He sucks really hard on the unlit cigarette while all of his friends watch and there’s this really long silence and all of them are thinking “yeah is this actually how it works though?”

-Josuke’s like “waitwaitwait I can make smoke come out of it watch” and sucks way too hard on it and IT GETS LODGED IN HIS FUCKING WINDPIPE

-He starts choking because he really really, doesn’t wanna swallow this thing and all of his friends are like “OH SHIT SHIT”

-There’s always that one homie who knows the Heimlich maneuver and on that day, the Heimlich is maneuvered.

-He coughs up a wet cigarette covered in nasty throat juices and his mouth tastes like shit

-He’s still totally shocked about what just happened and just kinda starts laughing but everyone can tell that its forced

-Everyone forgets about it and he’s too embarrassed to tell a soul but the Heimlich kid and him make eye contact in the hallways sometimes and he’s always reminded of that fateful day

-This is the soul reason why Josuke never smoked in high school and probably never will again

Koichi

-This might seem off topic to start but please just bear with me.

-why, for any reason, does Koichi know who joseph is??? Joseph is an American Real Estate agent. Why would a 15 year old Japanese kid be like “oh yeah that famous real estate agent Joseph Joestar”???

-well I present to you the most top tier headcanon: Koichi is a real estate fanboy.

-he planned to be a real estate agent before getting wrapped up into stand shenanigans

-But, being 15 and having REAL ESTATE as one of your biggest interests is not something you really want people knowing, especially considering the fact Koichi is a huge nerdy real estate fanboy for Josuke’s DAD.

-He buys these real estate magazines made for 45 year old men like once a week. They are what he looks forward to every week.

-one time Josuke and Oku come visit and see a magazine on Koichi's bed.

-He totally panics and dives for the magazine and tries to hide it, acting all nervous.

-Josuke and Oku immediately assume it’s a… y’know, NSFW, not for kids magazine.

-Because why would koichi need to be embarrassed about any other kind of magazine?

-So antics ensue of Josuke and Oku pestering koichi about the magazine, teasing him and begging to know what he was hiding

-after a few days, Koichi begrudgingly admits that the magazine is the “SPECIAL JOSEPH JOESTAR INTERVIEW ISSUE” which he bought 3 years ago and has reread countless times.

-Okuyasu laughs really hard and Josuke is like “...you mean my dad.....” and koichi wants to DIE

-They buy him real estate merchandise for his 16th birthday and EVERYONE thinks it’s some kind of joke gift but koichi is internally grateful

Jotaro

-Jotaro is not very good during social situations. That is very obvious.

-but when he hears that Koichi got a girlfriend, he decides he wants to be a cool…uncle? Nephew? Father figure? Mentor?

-so one day, Koichi and Jotaro are chatting while they go on a walk and Yukako walks by

-Koichi blushes and waves at her, she waves too

-Jotaro thinks, ‘alright. Time to show koichi I’m a cool guy’

-as Yukako walks away, Jotaro nudges koichi and sorta smirks

-Jotaro forget a few very important things about himself and Koichi:

-first of all, Koichi is so short, attempting to nudge the kid ended in Jotaro violently jabbing his elbow into Koichi’s skull

-Jotaro is much stronger than he thinks and Koichi, while he can take a hit, is very much weaker than Jotaro

-so an attempt at a simple nudge ends in Koichi being jabbed in the skull, flung into the road by the force of the hit, and hitting his head, hard, on the cement.

-needless to say Jotaro called and ambulance and Yukako tried to literally murder Jotaro

-He ended up with a mild concussion, but no long term damage.

-Jotaro is Not Good At Words so he apologizes in weird awkward ways like buying koichi stuff, quietly handing him 5,000 yen at random times, taking him out on the town, etc...

-Koichi keeps insisting it was an accident and he’s alright, but Jotaro feels AWFUL

-He NEVER lives that moment down in his mind

-It’ll be 2008 and Jotaro is visiting and he’ll just look the newly married koichi in his tiny eyes and say “hmhghggggg is your head ok”

-and koichi is like “IT WAS 9 YEARS AGO MR JOTARO PLEASE”

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

That was a wild ride I’m so sorry

Did ya’ll have a favourite? I gotta say, real estate Koichi is just...Jade, thank you for that...

Have you seen our embarrassing part 5 headcanons yet? If not, go check that out!

#jojos's bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #diu #jjba #josuke higashikata #okuyasu nijimura #koichi hirose #jotaro kujo #4taro #joseph joestar #rohan kishibe #headcanons #headcanon #jjba headcanons #crack #crack treated seriously #kinda #ask-c-c-cherry

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bubblyani · 5 years ago

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Bail Out : 02

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 02: Unrequited

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 7213

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, Hints of Mugging and Violence

Author’s Note: Very happy to see the response I received so far. Hope you will enjoy the progression of this story. Enjoy!

Songs Mentioned:

Ain’t no Stopping us Now- McFadden & Whitehead

Eyes off You- M-22, Arlissa and Kiana Ledé

Chapter 1 HERE

(Saturday 3 am)

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Alfred Pennyworth rose up from his chair upon seeing Bruce Wayne enter the Penthouse with haste. The sudden need to spend one’s late hours on a riveting novel was certainly coincidental, for tonight the Butler had been awake for two valid reasons, as it seemed.

“I’m a little relieved you didn’t come back home with Ms.Natasha…” Alfred said hoarsely. Loosening his tie, Bruce flashed a soft smile in his direction.

“I take it that you don’t like her, Alfred?”

“Oh! Her talent is admirable” the elderly man replied, watching the younger man rush over to his bedroom, “But her arrogance is simply unforgivable” he continued, increasing the volume of his voice so that his master could still hear. Alfred’s eyes subtly squinted with curiosity when Bruce returned with his laptop.

Sitting on one of the dinning chairs, Wayne made himself comfortable ,before typing up some words in it. “Trouble, Master Wayne?” Alfred inquired. “I need to look up someone…” Bruce answered, whilst accessing the Wayne Enterprises Internal Server. “And who may that be exactly, Sir?” “My knight …” Bruce began, his index finger grazing over ENTER button,“….in shining armor…” Finally pressing it, he managed to open the Personnel File required, “…apparently” Both men spent the next few minutes, studying the profile in complete silence and fascination. The owner of the profile was female, appearing to an employee of Wayne Enterprises. Swiping through every page, Bruce made sure to pay close attention to every little detail. Until finally, he spoke up. “Alfred…” Bruce said, looking over to him, “We’re gonna need some bail money…” Mr.Pennyworth flashed him a small smile in turn. “Of course you do, Sir…” He replied, although there was indeed a hint of sarcasm.

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

(Monday)

The rhythmic clicks of your stilettos were interrupted by the ring of your cell phone. Monday morning, the beginning of a new week. Thus, more work awaited you, similar to everyone else in the world. Digging inside your oversized handbag, you rummaged through, forcing you to stop in your tracks on the pavement, only a few feet away from Wayne Tower.

Few seconds passed by, yet you still could not find your phone. Although those few seconds seemed adequate, for the chilly morning breeze to caress the back of your neck, and for the cup of mocha to keep your hand warm like an invisible glove, or even for the delicious sandwich inside your bag to tease your nostrils with it’s aroma. Bless the caller’s patience, you thought. When you finally grabbed it from the bottom of the handbag, you smiled, upon seeing the name that appeared on screen. “ ’Morning Ali! What’s up?” You answered, in a cheery tone. With your working schedules being different, Allison would relish the opportunity of sleeping in. Unlike you. “Hey Sweetie…” Allison spoke, her deep voice sounding even deeper in the morning, “Just FYI, they’re sending someone to fix the Wi-fi today…” “Oh Thank God!…” you exclaimed, “Finally I can do some catching up…” you said, backing unto the wall to allow the passerby’s to walk past. To both of your dismay, the Wi-fi connection seemed to have a breakdown during the weekend, causing what could be called as an ‘unexpected detox’ from all forms of social media and internet access. But now, relieved about the good news, you began to walk once again, your rhythmic clicks getting their groove back. “Um…Sweetie?”  

“Yeah, what’s up?” You asked. Allison grew quiet for a few seconds, which confused you. “You might wanna…” she paused, “…keep off the web today…” she added hesitantly, “Or… even for a few days…” You raised your eyebrows, as you approached the entrance of Wayne Tower.  “Why?” You asked, “What do you mean?-Hey Bill !”

Amidst your cheerful greeting, Bill the Doorman grew nothing but speechless as you passed him by. And it surprised you. ‘Babbling Bill’ was what you would tease him with, yet there he was, quiet as a mouse. And he was not the only one. “Hey! You there?” Allison asked, seemingly concerned by your own silence. Gripping on to your phone tightly, you felt discomfort. “Ali, I gotta go…” You said, hanging up whilst you walked through the lobby. A walk through the lobby of Wayne Tower was usually a busy walk. Your voice would get the warm up it needed with many a greetings, when at the same time, your upper limbs would get the stretching required from all the waving. Yet today, this morning, it was all too different.

All those who passed you smiled, yet no words were exchanged. Speechless would be most common word to describe it. The moment you would pass anyone by, it was quite noticeable how some quickly gathered into groups of two or three’s, followed up with hushed whispers. Uncomfortable was clearly the word you would use to describe your situation, thus you looked straight ahead and walked towards the elevator hall. The more eyes washed over you, the stronger you wished for the elevators to be closer in distance. You did not want to walk anymore. Oh how wonderful would have been to float anywhere in flash! What could possibly have happened for all to look at you this way? Your eyes widened. Could it be? The Friday night incident? Allison’s advice, could that be in relation to this, by any chance?

You finally caught the elevator, being the last one to get in. With a packed and quiet crowd standing behind, the doors closed and you watched the floor numbers of the panel, change with every second. But then, whispers began: “Is she the one who-”

“Yep…”

“Oh! Wow…”

It seemed that whispers were what you could not escape from. If it was another day, you would have gladly turned back to spot the culprit. But today was not your day.

So, there. Everyone knew. But what exactly?

8th Floor, HR Department of Wayne Enterprises. Stepping out of the elevator, you grew nervous. Being the Department that dared not attract attention of this sort, what could possibly be the reaction of your peers and colleagues? Taking a deep breath, you entered the office space, ready to face the music.

Except, you were greeted with actual music.

And the loudest of cheers.

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

Never have you been this confused. And never had you seen your Staff in HR worked so collectively in any activity other than this. All 20+ of your junior staff, up from their chairs, visible from their booths. Never have they clapped so zealously before. “Ain’t no Stopping us Now” by McFadden & Whitehead played in the background the moment you entered the large room. “Ain't No Stoppin Us Now! We're on the move!…..”

Instead of feeling relieved or euphoric, embarrassment washed over you.

“…Ain’t No Stoppin Us Now! We've got the groove!”

The disco chorus would normally tempt you to break into dance, but all you could do was to cover your face, to hide the redness that deemed visible. What could have possibly been showed to these innocent people for them to act this way around you? And most importantly, you did not know if these cheers were of genuine support, or sheer mockery.

“HR is cool again! Whoo!” “Literal chills, Boss!…” “You…are…amazing!” “You showed them! Fight the power!”

Nodding with a shy smile, you acknowledged everyone’s comments as you walked towards the direction of your office, uncomfortable by cheers for the first time in all your years of existence.

“Well done, boss…Well done!” Greg Cohen, Assistant Manager cried out as he joined you. Given his track record, you were convinced this was all a prank. “Alright alright…” you muttered with a smirk, “…message received” yet prepared for an unexpected surprise in the end. Except Greg never looked this happy. “Are you kidding?” He said, “The way you stood up to that jerk? Pure bad-assery, Boss!” “Is your hand okay?” Paula Yang, one of the Senior Executives jumped in with concern, following you over to the office with Greg. “Yes, Paula.” You answered kindly, showing your hand, “And I was only ‘badass’ cause I was highly intoxicated, Greg!” You pointed out to him with exaggeration. To which he laughed. “Yeah! We can’t forget how crazy you get when you’re wasted…” he said with a wink, watching you finally sit down,“Oh! Remember that one time you willingly joined the junior staff to do a Taylor Swift Karaoke-off?” Eyes widened, that embarrassing memory played in your mind like a fast forward clip. “Oh my god-don’t!” You cried out with frustration, covering your face. All in the midst of Greg’s laughter. “I remember you sang 22 with such gusto, it was classic!” “Do you think HR is gonna be in trouble for this though?” Paula asked. You were struggling with an answer: “I-” “Nah!” Greg waved his hand frantically, “There worse things going on in Gotham right now” “That’s not the point-” you interjected, or tried to. “So many worse things-” “GUYS!…” Your interjection finally silenced the both of them, although the music was live and kicking outside. Taking a deep breath, you began: “As much as I appreciate all this…would you mind giving me some space for a little breather? I mean…” you paused, showing your coffee, “ I just got to office so…” you said, hinting their exit, “...Thank You” you added as they nodded frantically. “Sure! of course…” Greg said, “You’re the best, Boss!” Giving a thumbs up, he disappeared. “Yeah! Yeah!…” You said with raised eyebrows, “Paula…the door, please!” You added courtesy as you looked at her. The young executive obediently closed the door behind, leaving you alone at last. Never did you expect this. Especially when the title of Senior Manager was crowned over your head.

Pressing the space button of your computer, you watched the screen come alive, welcoming you with Google Search on your Browser Window. Staring at blinking cursor, you were tempted. Highly tempted to do the unthinkable. Should you act on it? Or would it crash and burn your day altogether? Yet, how unfair was it that everyone else knew but you.

Exhaling deeply, the last thread of patience left you. No more. Taking a deep breath, you proceeded to let your fingers press the keys.

Brring!

The ring of your office phone made you flinch in a flash. Holding your chest with shock, you looked over to the phone screen, forcing you to hold yourself tighter.

878. Boss!

You gulped with fear, fingers almost shaking as you answered the phone: “Y-yes?” Your stutter was called for. “My office…now!” A voice spoke from the other side. It was stern, it was expected. Sighing with silence, you nodded whilst replying low and with obedience : “Yes…”

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

Sitting with your hands over your mouth, you watched it all. You watched the entire Friday night incident caught on video.And it was more vivid than you could remember.

“Don’t you DARE say things like that!”

“Why? What are you gonna do? Threaten m-OW!”

“You take that back! I mean it”

“Wha-? OWW!! ARGH! MY NOSE!”

“SECURITY!”  

Your eyes squinted with discomfort. The manner in which you spewed your words in rage, and surprise him with your amateur yet deadly punches; this was a side of yourself you had never glanced upon before. As the video stopped playing in the laptop, you looked back at the title above it:

“Sucker Punch! : Woman engages in assault at Famous Hotel”

With your eyes glued to the title, you let it sink in to your system. No wonder everyone downstairs appeared speechless. You dreaded to look away from the screen at the two people watching you from the other side of the table. And you chose not to. “So…” You attempted a casual tone, “…has this…gone viral?” Ted Hawthorne, one of the Legal representatives of Wayne Enterprises, cleared his throat: “Truthfully, I’m inclined to give a sarcastic remark right now” he said, in his bass tone. “Please…” you sighed, “…by all means” you said, eyes still on the screen. Taking a deep breath, Ted began: “If only this was viral, kid” he said, proceeding to point at the screen, “This…is mega viral. Spreading faster than wild fire” he continued, “Media is already calling you ‘The Bruiser’” Your boss however, still kept silent. Sighing even heavily, you looked at Ted. “Okay, be straight with me” you said, “What am I in for? How much did I anger this Henderson guy?” Ted scoffed, “You seriously don’t know who you’re up against? Erik Henderson of Henderson Incorporated?” Your jaw dropped as low as it could. Henderson Incorporated had always been one of the Rival Companies of Wayne Enterprises. How could you not possibly put those two together? “Wait! No…” you exclaimed, “But what about Magnus Henderson?” “That’s his father.” Ted said, taking the laptop, “He retired….” He added whilst typing, “ …and passed the company over to Erik.” Flipping the laptop back to you. It now showed an article, “It all happened so fast last week. So I guess I don’t blame you for not knowing” he said, sitting on the chair right next to you. Your Head remained silent, still. “Anyways, back to the point…” Ted said, as you scrolled through the article, “The usual legal practice from his side, would be pressing charges for assault…” A certain someone warned you about this a few days before. Someone who unknowingly caused warmth in your poor heart. As you looked down at your right hand, at the tightly wrapped bandage, that warmth seemed more evident to you. Ignoring that, you grew worried. “Yeah but…” you began, “What if something like this happened between two drunk friends at a bar or something? Does that mean someone will be pressed charges?” “Well, are you two…friends?” Ted questioned with a raised eyebrow. Silence came over you, along with a heap of embarrassment. “….no…” you muttered low. Closing your eyes, you sighed. Your disgraceful behavior had caused shame, it was obvious. Shaking his head, Ted crossed his legs, his deep, brown skin shining from the fluorescent light as he ran his hand over his bald head. “…as I was saying, before getting interrupted…” he looked at you sternly, to which you mouthed an apology, “… pressing charges would be the usual practice, but it seems that Mr. Henderson was more than generous and decided to not do either of that…” your eyes widened instantly by his words, “…except he demands some things in return…” “Which are?…” “A public statement of apology” “Oh…” “And immediate termination of your job at Wayne Enterprises…” “WHAT????” You yelled. Gripping on to both arms of the chair, you involuntarily looked at both Ted and your Boss. Could this really be your worse nightmare come to life? Did you really punch yourself into your own undoing? “Calm down, kid!” Ted raised both his hands, “Damn! let me finish…” he muttered under his breath worriedly, to which you nodded. Whilst taking deep breaths, you watched him continue: “Yes, his latter request seems a bit exaggerated, the Board completely agreed on that. However, your performance will be considered for a special evaluation during the upcoming few months. And then the board will come to confirmation whether to keep you in the company or not. It’s just a special precaution. I’m sure it’s not a big deal” There really was no apt response for any of this. All you could do was to let the silence take over. All the sudden, you felt nothing but emotionally exhausted. Sensing this, Ted offered a sympathetic glance. “Just keep your head down and read the statement, kid” he said, getting up “The press will be arriving at around 11:30…Good Luck!” Giving a nod to your boss, Ted headed out, leaving the two of you alone. At last. Lillian Foster, Head of the HR Department at Wayne Enterprises, was no doubt, an exceptionally brilliant woman. Rising through the ranks in the department with ease, she holds the position of Head at the age of 40, and possibly one of the youngest black women of power in this company. And this was possibly the longest period she had ever been silent with you.

And it frightened you.

With the density of silence increasing in the atmosphere, you kept looking down. You simply did not have the heart to look back at her. Along with the silence, the tension was equally thick, enough to be sliced into several stacks. Which begged the question: who will speak up first? Being the perpetrator, it seemed only fair you speak up. Except, she finally did before you could. “I had to watch this…” She began calmly, “…for more than ten times…just to even understand and accept that it was you doing it”. Though she was calm, the disappointment in her was evident, “How did you think I feel?” Your heart grew heavy. Nothing felt worse than disappointing Lillian. Not only was she your boss, she was also your mentor. She was the woman who took you in like family from your very first day in the company. In the company with a majority of men, she was a maternal figure, a sibling and teacher. You owed her to the stars. Clearly her question was a rhetorical one, for she continued: “You should be really grateful that Mr. Wayne was kind enough to bail you out himself. That’s as kind as you can get” she said, getting up from her chair to walk over to you, “The man must have woken up from the right side of his bed that morning…praise that man!” The shape of her heavily pregnant belly was quite visible in her navy blue dress. Yet she managed to handle everything with the boss persona that she owned so well. Taking the seat next to you, it was only fair to match her eye-line with yours. “Last week, I was so sure and ready to leave the responsibilities to you, and take my maternity leave with liberty…”she continued with a sigh,“But now…I’m beginning to get worried…” “Don’t say things like that, Lillian…” You shook your head frantically, “Just think of the baby…” you said, pointing at her belly. You still remember the number of times you spoke to that belly with adoration, hoping the little one inside would hear you. “I don’t understand…” Lillian said with frustration, “I’ve never seen you like this…”she said with concern, “Sure, you had a hard time with your temper with some people on the first few years here..” “Cause the people were jerks-” You added through gritted teeth, instantly recalling the horrible staff mistreating you back then. “Yes they were…” She nodded, “But then you realized, being in HR means we have to put up with all that, but still be the ones people turn to…” she spoke with such eloquence, “…handle everything with a smile and composure…” she added, making you nod, “And I’ve seen you grow… and do many great things…”, you smiled upon hearing that. “But punching someone?”Her informal tone just broke free, “What the hell?” “I really don’t know why, Lillian…” You replied with honesty and equal frustration, “I wish you were there…you didn’t hear the things that man said about Mr.Wayne…about the company” your jaw tightened, “…that man maybe the new CEO of Henderson Incorporated, but he had no class!” “But still-” “-violence is never the answer…I know” With a sigh, You finished her sentence. Silence followed suit for a few seconds. Until Lillian’s lips finally curved upright. “I kept hearing the others say how badass you were…” she said, with a chuckle. You turned to her, suppressing a smile, “A part of me wants to agree…but… how can I?” She said, tilting her head. Chuckling back, you shook your head once again. “And I don’t want you to either…” you replied, “It was just a massive screw up…” Taking a deep breath, you groaned as you covered your face: “And now…I have to fix it” you said, looking up. “Do you have those pearl earrings with you?” Lillian asked. You nodded: “It’s in my bag, always…” “Good…” She said, getting up, “You’re gonna need them! ”

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

(Evening)

The Mikimoto pearl earrings, possibly were the most expensive, most precious pieces of jewelry you ever possessed. The mere glance of it always reminded you of the hard work and effort put into saving enough money to purchase a worthy pair of the famous brand of pearl earrings, for pearls were your favorite. And you were glad of your purchase, for it always brought class to any occasion.

Including making a public apology before the entire press of Gotham City.

Leaning forward against the back of the couch, you folded your arms, watching your own zoomed image on the television screen. It was the Late Night News, and the Apology was broadcasted once again on the News Rerun. Allison did not miss this. Sitting on the couch, her eyes were glued to the screen with concern. You both watched. The flashing lights of the cameras attacking you selfishly, symbol of greedy journalists on the mission to get the perfect shot of your remorse. In your formal office attire of skirt and jacket, the earrings highlighted your face, as you stood behind the podium alongside many representatives of Wayne Enterprises, including Ted Hawthorne. When you watched yourself read the speech, you remembered the words echoing in your head:

“….I would like to extend my sincerest apologies to Mr. Erik Henderson. It was not…” you watched yourself pause,

“…my intention to cause him such harm and pain. I am aware that my actions were tainted with irresponsibility and unprofessional-ism. I would also like to apologize to all staff in the hotel, and to all the other customers present that evening. My actions, as I mentioned earlier, were simply irresponsible and certainly not to be ignored so easily. I will make sure to adhere to the necessary measures that will be taken by Wayne Enterprises to compensate the loss and shame I have brought upon them. Thank you! That’ll be all”

“You did good, Sweetie…” Allison murmured gently, as the both of you watched the version of you on the screen slowly exit the podium. The screen transitioned over to the News Anchor in the studio:

“…However, several eyewitnesses have anonymously claimed the attack could indeed be provoked by Henderson himself, by making comments of defamation against billionaire socialite Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises…”

Your stomach formed a knot the second a video of Bruce Wayne was played. Possibly from that night. But the knot tightened with pain as you saw the woman who stood next to him. “Quick question…” Allison asked, pointing at the screen, “Was that Natasha person really pretty as she looks on camera?” “Nah…not really…” You flatly replied, folding your arms. Except a few seconds later, you realized you merely said that out of spite. Because you felt sour. And it was not true, “What am I saying? Of course she was pretty …” you chuckled, “She is pretty, just like you”. Shifting towards your direction, Allison sensed your emotion. After all, she was a woman too. With her blonde tresses illuminated by the lights of the television in the midst of the dark room, Allison’s expression changed. It was difficult to decipher, but it changed. “Sweetie…” She uttered with sympathy. A vacuum began to form within you, and you found it hard to breathe. Unable to take that in, you merely shrugged your shoulders. “Well that’s it…you saw the speech…” you said, pointing at the screen nonchalantly, “Goodnight, Ali…” your greeting was short, walking away before she could even respond. The door closed quietly behind you. Staring at the comfortable bed, all you longed was to get in it. Feeling the bouncy mattress brushing against your knees, you slowly crawled across the bed until you reached the window in the corner. The pavement was clearly visible as you opened it. Observing the hubbub outside, your mind began to wonder, it began to ponder. You did it. You gave the speech. And being in your good behavior was never going to be an issue, since you were never a troublemaker.

Therefore, why must you be filled with such emptiness?

“Never underestimate the power of probability…”

“You’ll have to be more specific”

“We will see each other again…”

“I think…I like Bruce Wayne...”

Looking at your bandaged right hand, you sighed heavily. Of course, you knew why.

Ever since that fateful day, ever since you were brave enough to admit to yourself how you had accidentally fallen for Bruce Wayne, he was all you could think of. Every waking moment, every thought flavored with leisure, it seemed as if he had secretly kept you company in your heart. You kept recalling that conversation in his Lamborghini, which seemed far from superficial. The manner in which he treated your wounds and healed you, the manner in which he bailed you out of jail himself, they were certainly many a kind and intimate acts rolled up into a singular moment. No wonder you were blissful in the corners of your imagination during the Wi-fi breakdown that weekend. Like a woman glancing upon her hand with a new engagement ring, you took the pleasure of glancing at your right hand every single time with a smile and giggles that soon followed. After ages, you were stirred by someone. He excited you, he made you look forward to the days ahead. For it would open the door to so many possibilities. One being the possibility of bumping into him again. You had fallen for him so hard and so fast, you chose to still keep the thin bandages on, even it was no longer necessary.

For the bandage was merely the physical remnant of his concern, his kindness to you.

But, when the sun rose on Monday, and the cold, hard reality hit you in the face in so many forms, you were forced to face the bitterness as well. Bruce Wayne was wrong. You could estimate the power of probability, for the probability of meeting someone like him again was certainly low. With you being a mere Senior Manager in his company, and him the sole owner of his family inherited business, it seemed literally impossible to win his heart. Always photographed and seen with women of beauty, power, class and high society, he was indeed a man of regality. Meanwhile, you were just a middle-class Gotham native, currently sharing an average apartment with her friend, hoping for an upgrade in life. You closed the window, yet permitting the city lights to rest on your bed as you crawled under the sheets. You chuckled to yourself. Funny how you desired for someone of the least attainability, yet searching for a thread of hope. His kindness that day was certainly a product of sheer pity. In truth, it could be a possibility that you were merely fooling yourself. Besides, in technicality, he was indirectly your boss, your employer. Thus, causing these feelings to be unprofessional to the fullest, something you never stood up for.

Silly crush, it was just a silly crush. Just a silly crush, you thought to yourself. Why must you fall for people this fast? A trait that you clearly despised. A weakness indeed. Running your fingers through your hair, you held out your right hand in front of you. The tightly wrapped bandage stared at you with innocence. That symbol. It was his reminder. But also the reminder of your foolishness, and the reminder of your pain. It had to go. That was the only way. Through gritted teeth, you slowly peeled it off from your skin. Sincerely hoping your feelings would be peeled off from your poor heart as well. For they were an inconvenience.

Especially when they seemed so hopeless.

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

(One Week Later)

The Annual Charity Dinner of the Wayne Foundation, had always targeted to raise massive funds for the most essential of charities that needed financial assistant. It was also an event that never failed to cause stress on you. Whether it was the overseeing, planning, and of course, tending to the guests.

But this year, it was the polar opposite for you.

“I’ll gladly be checking everything on the night…” you assured to Lillian few days before, “But I am not attending the dinner…” you insisted with much exaggeration. Truthfully, you pleaded, “It’s bad enough I caused enough embarrassment already…” you added, rubbing your temples with frustration.

And with very little chance of Bruce Wayne attending, there was no reason to attend at all. Wait! your brows furrowed at that thought. Why would that even matter?

Two hours before commencement, the HR organizing staff had gathered in the Hotel Banquet Hall. Whilst the waiters continued to set up the tables and decorations, you held responsibility in briefing the group. With your juniors and colleagues all dressed to the formal nine’s, you chose to punish yourself with all black semi-formal attire instead, in the form of black pants and a sequin embellished top with spaghetti straps. Regardless, you managed to fit in with the help of your rouge lipstick, which made an astounding difference.

“I believe all you are familiar with the schedule already…” your voice was rife with clarity, “….so to sum it all up: Make sure the guests arrive after proper check up…” you continued, as the others took notes nodding, “….make sure the drinks are served on time, make sure the entertainment will be ready when the starters are being served, and make sure-”

“-not to punch anyone?”

The sudden inquiry from Greg, caused unintentional laughter amongst the whole group. Nodding along to the silliness that was yet to be forgotten, you smiled tightly.

“Yes! Exactly, Greg!” You said, looking at everyone, “Don’t get too drunk and punch anyone like I did…” inciting more laughter, “Okay? Well...Good Luck! And Enjoy!”

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An hour had passed. You listened to the speeches and the formalities made. You coordinated the needful with the convenience of a walkie talkie. You ticked away every task on your notepad. All the while you were willingly caged in the VIP sitting room right next to the Hall. Finally, with the toasts were in completion, Dinner was served, Live entertainment was ready, the real fun had begun. And you were finally free. Yet, with you choosing to remain in the room, you figured you deserved all the similar luxuries at your own privacy.

Which also included alcohol.

A young waiter entered the room with a bubbly persona. "Good Evening, Ma'am. You ordered Whiskeys for two, am I correct?" he inquired, subtly looking around as you approached him. “You certainly are…" you replied with an equal bubbly tone, "You see…One for this guy…" you said, as you left hand picked up one glass, "...and One for this bad boy right here” you added when your right hand took the other. "Cheers!" you sniggered, watching the unimpressed waiter walk away shaking his head. You did not blame him. Your jokes were only so-so.

This unexpected pressure to be on your best behavior certainly did not help you with your patience, forcing you to drink even without a scrap on food in your stomach. A sense of freedom was always offered to you the moment the whiskey touched your lips. Suddenly all the stress that littered in your brain were gone, and it felt nothing but sparkly fresh. The moment the alcohol began to wind your body up like a toy, you knew music was the one missing element.

A cool spray of dance synth reached your ears in a progressive manner. Hearing the first few seconds of the song, you were intoxicatingly elated to find out what the song was. Freeing your tresses from the constraints of the half ponytail, you stood up from your armchair, swaying to the introductory verse of “Eyes on You” by M-22, Arlissa and Kiana Ledé :

“When I feel your tempo and I hear you echo Don't let go, don't let go You set the rhythm, I take my position Position, position...”

Your chest began to pop in double time as the song progressed to a faster pace. Infused with the side swaying, your drink however remained intact. Taking another sip whilst you danced, your right hand forced you to glance at it. There may have not been a bandage anymore, but the thin healing scars were visible enough to bring the reminder: Bruce Wayne.

“Can't take my eyes off you, my eyes off you No matter what you do, no, no way...”

Throwing your head back, the body slowly rolled in rhythm. During which that mind of yours, truly began to wonder about the craziest things. Would he, the great Bruce Wayne, enjoy this? Would you be better at this than the other girls he had been with combined? With eyes closed, the confidence in your dancing swelled. He was indeed quite desirable, that Bruce Wayne. Your drunken self was clearly unfiltered with opinions. Ah! Bruce Wayne.

“Ahem!" Someone cleared their throat, forcing you to quickly open your eyes.

Only to find the actual Bruce Wayne, standing a few feet before you. And just right then, the heart did not hesitate to signal its beat to increase in deathly speed.

Like fuckin’ beetle juice, you thought to yourself.

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

Sharply dressed as always, never did Bruce Wayne fail to look attractive, ever. Truthfully, it seemed possibly impossible for him to do so. Though your body reacted to the sight of him with devotion, your intoxicated heart had other plans.

“Ah! Mr. Wayne! ” You cried out louder than you should. Lifting your glass, the intoxication was evident in your tone, “Welcome …to my Private party…”, followed by a giggle, “��You here to tinkle?” Your inquiry was full of mischief.

“Actually…Yes, I am…” the Billionaire replied. How exactly he said it, you had difficulty remembering, “Are you alright?” He asked with concern. A concerned voice laced with his signature softness. You scoffed with disbelief. “Me? I’m FINNNE!” You answered, your last word seemingly elongated and possibly dragged, “But …wait a minute…” squinting one’s eyes, you pointed at him bravely, “W-Why do you keep…seeing me drunk??”, You slurred, “WAIT! You know what?…” you cried out, before he could even answer, “Don’t care…” you said proudly, as you turned away. “Gonna quit this job anyways…” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes. Yet you danced, in hopes he would stand there and watch you. You danced, in hopes he would have a spark of interest somehow. With your intoxication unlocking the doors to the inner desires of your heart, you now had access to them all. And that was what you actually desired for. His attraction, his approval, his validation, his love. Taking in more sips to burn your tongue, you felt braver and energized. You felt cheeky too, in fact.

You wanted to turn back, facing him with such confidence that he could not resist you. But you only managed to sink your heart instead.

For he was gone.

Landing on the armchair once again, you wondered if what you just saw, was just an illusion. Regardless, you knew one thing for sure: You never felt so foolish. Gulping down the last of your drink, you collapsed to the armchair once again. Clarity had finally dawned on you: You were never really over him. You were just that stupid, foolish girl, hopeless about someone who will never care back.

Curse these emotions! This heaviness that lingered in your chest burdened you. Unrequited emotions could never be as torturous as this. For it would be the constant sadness that will remain. Desire leads to impatience, impatience leads to disappointment. The disappointing fact that Bruce Wayne will never look your way, even though you hope to.

You have never felt sorry for yourself. But being drunk, it was easier to do so. And with your inhibitions lowered in a rush, it did not take long for that pitiful heart to sink in further deep. And it certainly did not take long for the tears to slowly form around your eyes as well.

The truth was to be faced, you were worthless, you were never good enough for him. Blind and hopeless, this was just a ridiculous idea in the first place. Bowing your head down, you allowed your self to cry softly, reaching out for the other glass. Tonight, it seemed the only company you had were the echoing music, the burning alcohol and your salty, never ending tears. Truthfully, they may possibly be obliged to keep you company forever.

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

Two glasses of whiskey got you incredibly intoxicated, especially with no food in your system. As it should. Yet, you were conscious enough to make an exit before causing any more trouble to anyone ever again. Sneaking out into the lobby from the secret exit of the room, you managed to head out in peace. With your handbag slung over your shoulder, you were on a dire attempt to wipe off the smudged mascara, sniffing softly as you exited the hotel.

Only to sigh in frustration when there were no taxis at this hour.

With the possession of two working legs on you, it was decided to walk further down the city to hail one. Unexpectedly, you found yourself walking down a smaller street, dark and lonely.

“Can't take my eyes off you, my eyes off you No matter what you do, no, no way…”

You sang to yourself quite lazily, as you made your way. Clang! The sound of a garbage bin falling down made you halt. Quickly turning back, you felt a slight dizziness in your head. Holding your head to stop the spinning, you took a few deep breaths. But when you looked back, there seemed to be nothing. Rats maybe, you thought, turning forward to resume your walk.

Only to scream as you found three men standing before you. Dressed in ragged, dull clothing, two of the men held out guns, while the other stood empty handed. Muggers, possibly?

“Gimme your wallet, Lady!”

The man wearing a beanie yelled out threateningly, brandishing his gun at you. Confirmed, they were indeed muggers. Though intoxication was in your system, sobriety took over for a few minutes to save your life.

“Okay…” you slurred, “…take it easy” you added calmly. The man furrowed his eyebrows. “You bossing me, bitch?” He yelled angrily.   “No! No! I was… talking to myself…” You answered quickly. Putting both hands up, you took a deep breath, “Let me just slowly…reach into my bag…” you said, while your right hand dug into the bag with certainty, “….and-ah shit!” Your heart sank immediately. “WHAT IS IT??” “I left my wallet…” you answered in all honesty, “ I-” “PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS IN THE AIR!!” The man bellowed. “Okay okay okay…” You responded. Maintaining your composure to much surprise, you tried not to stumble, “Listen…gentlemen…” you added, “This is not worth the trouble, okay?” You took a deep breath, “I’m drunk… and from the looks of it…” you showed your two hands, “…incredibly destitute! I have nothing to offer you-” You paused. The empty handed man was surprisingly quiet compared to the other two. Your eyes widened the moment he decided to finally weaponize himself, with a knife instead.

Seeing the sharp, shiny object, sent immediate signals of fear throughout your system. This man, he seemed to be more in control of his actions. His features were ambiguous, yet he seemed certain.

Very certain of the fact he will kill you tonight.

Before you could even flee, the other two had you surrounded from both sides. With your heart beating fast, your breath began to quicken. If money was out of your reach, then why would they still bother?

“What? Why are you doing that? Did I offend you in some way?” You pattered, watching the knife wielding man, “Did you think I was underestimating my self worth or something-ah crap! You’re coming closer” you said meekly, seeing the man confidently walk towards you. Leaving no choice, you put your bare fists up in defense. Yet you groaned with fear, “Oh!...Why the hell am I talking so much when I’m nervous-” The moment you almost felt the side of the knife graze your arm, the moment you almost had your life taken, your eyes caught the sight of a giant black figure jumping on top of him. “ARGH!!” Falling on your back from the indirect push, you looked on to see the knife wielder cry out loudly. You sat up, gasping as you watched the him being incapacitated, and instantly tied to the nearest pipe. All by that Dark Figure. The figure whose cloak blew to the side by the sudden gust of wind.

It was Batman. In the flesh.

Distressed, the other two muggers began to fire shots, only to have those pitiful bullets be deflected weakly, leaving them powerless even with their weapons. Batman charged towards them in the form of a walk, whilst they kept shooting, all until their bullets finally ran out. Skillfully avoiding their amateur punches and kicks, Batman’s responsive blows were godlike by nature, leaving them down on the ground faster than expected. With added aching pains. Getting up on your feet, you watched the caped crusader tie them up.

“You alright?” He asked, in a gruff voice. You nodded frantically, awestruck by his power and presence. “Yeah…” you replied, clasping both hands together, “My god…That was-” “Hey Ma’am! Do you want me to call 911?” An older, good samaritan cried out from the other side of the street. It was possible he may have heard gunshots from a mere few seconds ago. Looking over to him, you smiled. “Yeah, that would great, Thanks” you yelled back politely. Sighing with relief, you knew your gratitude was deserved by someone else, “And thank-” You quickly towards Batman, “….you” Only to find him gone. Poof! Disappeared into thin air.

The culprits appeared far from powerful as they rolled around and groaned in pain, hands tied to various stationary objects on the ground. You could not fathom what just happened. But most importantly, you could not believe you were still alive. All thanks to him. The Dark Knight.

Your heartbeat increased once again. To make matters worse, a strange feeling formed in your stomach, a feeling that traveled all over your body. It made you uneasy and sweaty. Not to mention the quickened breathing. Before you could even dare to decipher these sudden effects, life decided to answer that riddle for you. The moment you collapsed to the ground to hurl up a thin stream of vomit. As you went through the horrid process, your tongue certainly was stained with the taste of whiskey and bile. “Er…Ma’am?” You heard the kind man from afar once again, “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m good…” you said hoarsely, waving your hand with assurance, “I’m good…I-Argh!-”

Assurance had very little battery life when you continued to vomit even more. An apt punishment for drinking two whiskeys on an empty stomach. You earned this for sure.

——————————————————

Chapter 3 HERE!

Tagged: @tealaquinn @ladyerina @kittenlittle24 @wholesumm @everyday-imfangirling @depressed-comrad @works-of-fanfiction @bale-is-a-babe @thats-aight @badsext

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

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happy 3 years!! can i get a knight au with my fav boy jacob🥺🥺 -baker anon

Yes you can!! Thank you so much for your support (AND YOUR MEMES) <3 <3 here’s a sneak peek into the au that shall (still) remain unnamed - kai’s probably the only one who will completely know what I'm talking about, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless :)

3-year anniversary drabble game: send me an NCT/WAYV/Stray Kids/The Boyz member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Title: Kill Your Darlings

Pairing: Jacob x gender neutral!reader

Triggers: mentions of death

Kill your darlings is a phrase Jacob often hears as a mage of the onyx kingdom. It’s a bit of a joke, really, due to the nature of his kind. A mage’s loyalty, unlike that of castles and knights and queens and kings, is divided between the higher orders and the physical plane. It has been drilled into his head since he was young that, should the choice ever present itself to him, he must pick the higher orders over his home, his country.

And if that means killing someone he loves, then so be it.

For this reason, a large number of mages choose not to form attachments on earth. Many still marry and others may have children, but they do so with full knowledge of the fact that they may have to abandon their families if the wrong situation presents itself.

Jacob swears he doesn’t mean to fall in love. He doesn’t, truly – he hates hurting people, and if he fell in love with someone, he wouldn’t want the relationship tarnished by his duties as an onyx mage. But when faced with you, a knight, brilliant, brave, and true, Jacob can’t help himself. He falls deeply for your selfless, kind character, for the warm heart that has no qualms about putting its country before itself. No wonder, he thinks, the higher laws ordained you so quickly when you entered the shrine. You’re pure of heart, purer than anyone he knows.

The phrase haunts him, though, kill your darlings, every time he leans in to press his lips to yours, every time you draw him into your arms after a campaign far from home. Because a day may come where, at best, he has to leave you behind.

And at worst, he’ll be the one to kill you.

He tries to content himself with the current peace between the kingdoms. There is no way a war will break out, a war so sudden and so horrible that the balance of the Board itself would be threatened. It hasn’t happened in millennia, not since the founding of the two kingdoms of Chess. It won’t happen now.

Then the ivory princess unleashes her attack, capturing or killing every mage who dares defy her in the name of the Board. Jacob is caught in the early crossfire, tossed into a dungeon under the sparkling white floors of the ivory palace to await “trial” for his “crimes.”

The fates, clearly, didn’t enjoy Jacob’s optimism.

He doesn’t hope for a savior, not as he is led out of the dungeon in magic-binding chains. The usual thrum beneath his skin is subdued, leaving him feeling empty inside, and he only turns colder with despair when he sees the ivory mage leading him out is one whom he used to respect as a mentor and a teacher.

Then, just as he enters the ivory princess’s – well, now she’s a queen – throne room, the windows shatter and chaos unfolds.

Jacob’s instincts snap into action. Sliding away from someone’s sword, he tucks and rolls, ending with his bound hands in front of him. Dodging shouting knights and mages of both sides, he runs as best he can until a familiar grip snatches his wrist and tugs him into an unseen hallway.

“Y/N?” he whispers, barely able to believe his eyes.

“There’s no time.” Quick picking of the chain locks releases the metal from his wrists, sending them clanking to the ground. “You need to get out of here.”

Jacob rubs his reddened skin, already feeling magic beginning to simmer in his blood. “Yes, I know. Let’s go –”

“I’m not going with you.”

Frozen, Jacob can only stare in confused silence.

“Prince Juyeon sent us here to get you out once he heard you weren’t dead.” Grabbing his wrist once, more, you lead him down the dark hall. “The ivory queen stole and dismantled the onyx crown before his coronation, and now he and Kevin are looking for the jewels. They need a mage to help them put it back together, and that mage is you.” One hand, glittering with armor, points down the hall. “Take the first left, then keep running straight until you reach the door. Just slash the lock – here –” you press a knife into his free hand – “then make a door or something and teleport away. Last thing the onyx queen said was that the prince and Kevin went to Castia to meet up with a contact. High Mage Sunmi said you could track Kevin through his magic –”

Jacob plants his feet in the darkness. “I’m not leaving without you,” he snaps. “What makes you think I could –”

“This isn’t about what you can or can’t or want or don’t want to do, Jacob.” For a second, your eyes soften. A thumb draws small circles on the side of his wrist. “The Board’s balance is in danger, and this is your duty, your responsibility as a mage.”

Duty. Responsibility.

Jacob has never hated those words more.

“We don’t have time.” You squeeze his hand. “Jacob, you’re one of the last uncorrupted or uncaptured mages alive. Juyeon sent us to get you and not another mage for a reason. You need to find him and Kevin and stay together.”

Jacob swallows, suddenly feeling small under your hard gaze. “What about you?”

For the slightest second, your eyes falter, showing a hint of fear. Then you harden once more, jaw set, limbs taut. “I’m a knight, Jacob.” A grim smile barely lifts the corners of your lips. “What do I do but fight?”

It feels like a part of him is breaking away when he kisses you the last time, lips desperate to feel yours just once before you split for who knows how long. With every running step he takes away from you, a piece of his heart shatters to the floor.

Jacob has wondered many times if he would have the stomach to kill someone he loved, if it came down to it. Throughout his training, learning to use the magic that hums beneath his skin, he always wondered what weapon he might have to use to kill his love.

Kill your darlings.

It turns out he didn’t even need a weapon, Jacob thinks.

He may have done just that by running away.

#starryktown #the boyz #tbz #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #the boyz oneshots #the boyz imagines #the boyz jacob #jacob #the boyz jacob scenarios #drabble #angst #knight!au #kill your darlings #3 year anniversary drabble game #lina answers #scriptura-delirus

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soundofez · 4 years ago

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@mastar-week 2021, day 3// solace

The Untamed AU. In the end, even Black Star cannot defy his own death. The clans gather to facilitate his fall.

Maka doesn’t let them. It drives her own clan half-mad, but she will not give the world a dying man to execute. She will not give up the man she has left so long abandoned. She will not let Black die unloved.

Warnings: hurt/comfort but mostly hurt, insanity, major character death. this one's a big ouchie my guys ಥvಥ

Ten Years Ago.

After the last surviving branch of the Star clan finally submits itself to the judgment of the Death clan, the wards around the Sunken Hills fail.

The other clans swarm, metaphorical pitchforks readied, eager to tear apart the notorious Last Dragon of Star. Maka arrives too late to stop them from trespassing; she flies past trampled gardens that twist her heart with grief and fury. How dare they disregard the toil of the people who lived there; how dare they claim themselves superior to innocents who wished only to survive.

She arrives in the central cave, the so-called Den of the Last Dragon, to find Black Star holding the rioting clans at bay, untouchable even now, shorn hair tied into powerful charms and dried blood applied with morbid skill to woven talismans. The stink of rotting yin is almost overpowering: lesser cultivators lie strewn about, their natural yang insufficient to counter such high concentrations of that dark energy.

Maka waits until she is noticed, until the assembled cultivators finally back away from Black's final wards. They ask her if she wants the honor, and she nods curtly in return. "Only right," they agree, though their voices betray a rapacious hunger for violence. "Only right for the Jade of Death to avenge her young master."

She does not deign to use words with them. They are not the ones who need to hear what she has to say.

When at last they all stand silent and waiting, like circling crows, she walks past their bedraggled ranks to stand before Black Star.

He nods as she approaches, and she walks directly through the wards that had so powerfully repelled the other cultivators. He keeps his charms and talismans to hand, but he makes no move to use them against her.

The look in his eyes frightens her. He is not defeated, not quite; but he is weary and grieving, and to Maka he appears to be awaiting condemnation.

From your sword, he had once told her, I will face my death and consider it just.

Maka casts her own wards in one smooth flourish. They blaze behind her, brighter than Black's wards are dark. "Leave," she says aloud. She does not look away from Black. She cannot bear to, not now, not when there is so little time left between them.

The cultivators grumble with confusion that morphs into surprise and indignation and shock. "She has been bewitched," one of them cries. "He has corrupted her," shouts another.

Maka turns to face them. "Leave," she repeats.

She has to encourage them with a sweeping blow from her sword before they obey. She grants them no more words, even as they express promises to return. (To free her, the stupider ones declare; to slay her, the smarter ones say.)

They do not understand what she is doing. How could they, when they are so utterly convinced of the guilt of the man she is protecting?

Black Star does not seem to understand, either. "What are you doing?" he asks as their opponents flee.

"I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago," Maka replies.

Black spreads his arms. "Kill me, then."

The accusation stings. Maka permits it. She has done nothing to earn his faith. "I won't," she replies.

Black Star smiles at her, coughs— there is blood in his teeth, dribbling down his chin— his wards fail, and her own are suddenly blindingly bright—

She lunges to catch him before he can hit the ground.

—

In the end, even Black Star cannot resist his fate. His cultivation technique, which draws so heavily on natural quantities of yin, overwhelms his body's supply of yang.

Maka had known it would happen. She hadn't known how little time Black had left.

They spend those last months together, her and Black Star and a surprise child she found around the back of the cave. The girl's eyes as green as Maka's, though her hair is that brilliant blue infamous to the Star Clan. She looks startlingly, heart-achingly similar to how a child might look if Maka ever bore one for Black Star.

Maka salvages what she can of the former gardens, replanting radishes while little Hoshino Ao does her best to plant herself, too. They collect Black's favorite lychee from the trees, hard-won little things that Black had been so proud to show the cuttings of eighteen months ago, when they had stumbled into each other in the little town at the base of the Sunken Hills. Maka washes and peels and pits the tiny fruits, saving their precious flesh in a shallow dish specially reserved for them. Ao loves them as much as Black does; Maka has to teach the little girl restraint, even as she wishes that she could peel all the lychees the two Stars could ever desire. Ao obliges even so, sharing the dish with Black while

Maka inspects the illusory wards alone. They cover a smaller area than Black's old wards had, but there is no longer a clan here who needs the space. Maka doesn't have access to the same techniques Black had used to cover such an enormous area, anyway. She secures the edges of the wards as the clans storm around invisible border, oblivious to her presence; Maka in particular watches her father, who appears more distraught than dissatisfied. He is one of the few cultivators to come daily, and the only one to beg and grovel for her to come home. He has an uncanny knack for knowing when she is present; he always seems to start pleading when she is around to hear him.

Maybe it is not so uncanny. He knows the feel of Death clan wards as well as she does, even if he cannot get through them. Still, Maka cannot safely speak to him, and so she doesn't. Time enough for forgiveness after Black dies.

—

They talk quite a lot in those last months, even as excessive yin rots his body and decays his mind. "Why are you protecting me?" he asks early on, while he still has his sanity. "The honorable Jade of Death shouldn't be helping an evil cultivator such as myself."

"You were never evil," Maka says hotly. "I should have protected you sooner."

Black laughs her off, light-hearted even as he waits for his grave.

At other times, Black is morbid. "You'll have to live here forever," he informs her. "If you leave this place, they'll kill you." He says this with regret. You shouldn't have come for me, Maka hears, even though the words do not leave his mouth.

"They won't kill me," Maka replies.

Still other times, Black flirts with her. "You can have your way with me, you know," he'll say, winking. "Nobody can stop you, least of all me. I'll never tell, either."

He is trying to drive her away. Tough: she's not leaving him until one of them dies. She tells him as much, though instead of acknowledging his failing body, she simply says, "I'm never leaving you again."

His spirit fails. He is tormented by ghosts who do not exist and nightmares that escape the realms of sleep. Still, he seems to recognize her. "I missed you, you know," he tells her, half-delirious. "All these months I spent cooped up in these hills, I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Maka replies, pressing a cup of water or a bowl of radish stew to his lips. He seems to hear her, and he smiles.

He starts to forget that she's there: when she returns from gardening or lychee-picking or checking the wards, he will startle and beam at her. "Maka, you've come to visit!" he will cry, or even, "You! I love you!"

She never knows if these last words are truly meant for her. "I love you, too," she replies anyway, pressing lychee flesh to his lips and letting him lick the sweet nectar from her fingers like a child. The fruit seems to keep the horrors at bay, at least for a little bit, at least while she's with him.

The last time he speaks to her, he is strangely coherent. "You shouldn't have gotten involved, Maka."

She sits beside him. "If I'd gotten involved sooner, you wouldn't be dying," she replies, thinking bitterly of the years she's spent dithering, and for what? She is already twenty-two, fast leaving marriageable age, and the love of her life is dying.

He is only twenty-two, and he is dying.

"You don't know that," he replies. "And that's beside the point. You should have let them kill me. The gods know I deserve it."

She leans over him, takes his face in her hands. "You promised you would be killed only by my hands," she tells him. "I will not kill you. I will not let the world execute an innocent man. I will not leave you because you are dying. I should never—" Her voice cracks on the word. She swallows and continues, staring into his black eyes, wondering if she will ever fall into such blackness again. Never, she thinks. It's impossible. "I should never have abandoned you, Black."

I will not let you die unloved, she wants to tell him later, but by then he is beyond hearing.

—

She buries his body. She does not take down the wards. She steps out from the Den of the Last Dragon and into her weeping father's embrace. She pushes Hoshino Ao into his arms before she submits to the clans' judgment.

She is not executed, as she had predicted. Lord Death is still too fond of her. Still, she is sentenced to daily lashes and seclusion for a year. It takes another year for her to recover.

Of course, she never really recovers. She continues living, and she is dutiful to the clan, and she finds some measure of joy in teaching the new cultivators; but she does not begin to recover until she sees a man in plain grey robes, his hair white but his eyes that impossible black, placing a talisman she’s seen many times before on a corpse who should have been long gone.

#soul eater #mastar #mastar week #mastar week 2021 #maka albarn x black star #fez scribbles #fez writes #mastar week more like mastar yEAR AMIRITE

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