#like neither can really tone down their strength for normal people (due to only fighting akumas and shit)

[krispyphan]

Okay but Shadybug and Claw Noir being in the Dc verse. THE SHENANIGANS !!!!! I don’t even have a lil story to go with this prompt 😭

[softrozene]

Receiving a Hug from Their Crush

Anonymous requested: Hi my friend ! I hope all is well in your life ! can i please ask a little scenario for Rob Lucci, Kuzan and Killer who receive an unexpected hug from the person they secretly have a crush on ? how would they react ? make it as soft as possible and maybe a little nsfw if you want, thanks in advance 🤭

Mhm- I could not really see them acting “inappropriately” in this scenario so I just had them have a few inappropriate thoughts. Since these characters come off aloof, I had to give the Reader a “soft” personality- I do hope that is alright! Besides that, this so fluffy and came out longer than expected- I hope you enjoy this hon! I hope all is well in your life too anon!

Killer, Kuzan, Lucci x Reader (Gender Neutral/Nonbinary)

Warnings: Fluff- Suggestive thoughts, these characters are flustered. Uh, I know Killer is in the wano arc but I am not caught up to that so he may seem a little ooc since I am only using what I have seen from him in the Sabaody arc!

Words: 1673

Killer-

Killer felt great- His captain must feel greater. They after all made it into the New World. They feel unstoppable which of course is a bad thing, but one that they will bask in until they meet their match.

For now, Killer wanted nothing more but to continue to feel the excitement the crew is feeling. Even more so- Seeing that smile on your face. It has been a while since you joined their crew per Kid’s request (more like demand but hey, Kid knows when he sees talent).

So, it took a while for him to figure you out- Especially since you seemed so… Kind. It is normal to be kind to friends and the crew but even to strangers you were, and it threw him off. Once he found out you had no ulterior motive, he realized… He actually liked this soft personality.

It was a nice contrast to the mostly hostile personality the crew has to strangers. Though- It gave them all the need to protect your naivety. They did not mind at all but after a while for Killer- He realized that he had a crush on you.

It was weird for him, but it made him seek you out more out of anyone else in the crew. It turned out to be the right move because you understand him. His rather silent approach to people. You understood that and did not press him to talk to you unless he wanted to every now and then- Even then you were happy to carry the conversation.

You even made his meals after finding out he preferred noodles because of his mask. You took it upon yourself to make them- And it warmed his heart.

Because of this crush- Killer has experienced many new feelings, some of them more heated than others. For example, whenever you talked to him and leaned in further than what he is normally used to- He could not help his mind wander to the warmth your body created and how it would feel against his.

He longed for it but of course, it is just a crush. He knows better. He does not try to pursue these feelings either- Not wanting to get emotions involved or danger the crew.

That is the idea until you do something that makes his brain have a short-circuit.

Just one day after making him some dinner separate from the crew- You place the bowl of pasta down in front of him and proceeded to hug him. That… Sent a shock through his whole body. It was totally unexpected. After knowing you for a long while he did not take you as the touchy type and now that you actually hugged him, no matter how brief it was, he realized- He enjoyed it.

He enjoys your touch, and his mind wanders more. Screw logic- You are worth pursuing and he vows to make his feelings known.

Kuzan (Aokiji)-

“Why must you bother the new recruits?” Sengoku questions.

Kuzan yawns, completely not interested in this conversation. He is here for one sole reason instead of biking around the world, and it is because of you- Not the new recruits you are currently training. He sure did not mean to make them cry- He just pointed out how their forms were not useful unlike you who tried to encourage them to use whatever forms they liked as long as they followed the rest of your training.

“I will be on my way soon enough,” Kuzan murmurs.

Sengoku sighs knowing this is not going to go anywhere and neither is Kuzan. This happens too far often and all because Kuzan took an interest in a fellow marine. Completely inappropriate in Sengkou’s mind as the boss, but he allows it as long as it does not interfere with their marine work.

“It is (Name), isn’t it? Fine- Go ahead. I will tell them they are free of their duties but only for the night. These recruits need their basic training fully finished by the end of the week,” He mumbles giving in.

Kuzan just smiles at this. This is how it usually goes when he comes back to the marine headquarters. He longs to just either train with you one-on-one or steals you away- Or his personal favorite, take over the training session in an attempt to impress you.

However, he is not in the mood today. He longs just for a nap with your presence and then he can be on his way. It is easiest for everyone to let Kuzan spend time with you in order for him to get his work done. It could not be even more obvious to everyone too that he has a crush on you and yet you are the most oblivious person on the planet apparently.

Even when Kuzan fully flirts with you- You do not react to it. Not that he minds- He rather much enjoys your naïve and calm demeanor. It is refreshing among all these other marines who seek justice in a terrifying manner.

With permission, Kuzan goes back to the training grounds where he had earlier ruined your recruits’ concentration. The grounds are completely empty, and he waits a few minutes- Getting impatient, for you to return here with the good news of being dismissed for today.

He hears your footsteps and goes to greet you when he feels arms wrap around his mid-section. He raises an eyebrow at your unusual happy attitude. Usually, when he ruins one of your training sessions like he did today you would be grumpy but instead, you are hugging him?

Not only that but it makes his usual cold atmosphere soften. You are hugging him and… It feels nice.

Though the way you are squeezing him… He knows it is supposed to be loving but he can’t help the instant dirty thoughts and wonders of how your warmth could mix with his.

You pull back too soon, and he frowns.

“Kuzan, you need to stop ruining my training sessions. If you want to see me that is all you have to say,” You still manage to say in the gentlest voice ever despite the stern look you give him.

For once he fights off his perverse thoughts and just says in more of a demand. “Hug me again.”

You do not question him. Instead, you give him that brilliant smile before sliding your arms around him again. Yeah…

He can nap later.

Lucci Rob-

*First let me say this headcanon for Rob, he would 100% be touch-starved so in this situation, he would come to be a bit obsessed with hugs from his crush. Continuing on-

Lucci could not get any more annoyed with today. It has been exhausting and all he has been doing is paperwork from his last mission with CP9. He can’t wait until they can finally move to CP0. Then he won’t be stuck at Cipher Pol’s headquarters. He will not need to be pestered by the other member’s annoying behavior.

“Lucci-“

He nearly snaps at the voice, until he feels something wrap around him from behind. A head leans against his back and he just freezes.

“What is this- What are you doing?” He questions.

He already knows it is you- Their newest and definitely strongest (in his opinion) member. Somehow you captured Cipher Pol’s attention with your strength, but it did not match your personality. None of these missions do and he hated your guts at first- He saw you as weak and saw you merely as a distraction until he witnessed your strength when you trained with Kaku then him.

Your personality- He wanted to originally crush it. To form it into what he was raised to be- Merciless. It turned out you were also merciless but in a way that your target knows you do not want to torture them but will if you have to.

He hated that kind of person working here but, in the end- It was exactly what attracted him to you. He fought it off for so long but your everlasting kindness and the strength you showed to him eventually made him bring down his barrier. He allowed you to talk to him and he would give short curt replies in return.

That was all it was until he realized you even brought an animalistic side to him (he wants to believe that it is due to his devil-fruit and not the fact that he is still human).

So, hugging him like this and right now? It sets his skin aflame. He would want nothing more than to just devour you in acts of pure passion (and he will say hate) as he forgets about his stress but of course he can’t. Your relationship is definitely not that far along, and this is just a silly little crush he has.

“Sorry- Did I scare you? You looked upset so I thought you needed a hug. Even though our professions make us hard with our emotions- I like to think we all need hugs now and then. We are still very human despite our job. Wouldn’t you agree?” You ask… Still holding him.

He hates that he loves your touch and that- It really does seem to make this terribly long day better. He hates it but he will admit it.

“I do agree… Do you hug the others?” Lucci questions.

You finally pull back so you can look at him. That adorning smile that paints your face makes his heart ache in the best way possible. Especially when you answer. “No- You are the first one I felt comfortable doing that to. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No. I rather enjoyed it. I… Would appreciate it if you did it again in the future- However, I oppose you doing it to others,” He states.

You may have a too soft personality in his opinion, but you are not naïve. You definitely understood his possessive tones as you agree to it.

[azems-familiar]

There’s a faint sneer on Darth Thanaton’s face as he regards her, the Sith tattoo curled blood-red down his face twisting in a mockery of its original design as his golden eyes rake over her and, as they always do, find her wanting. Oh, he never says it, of course; to her face, to everyone else’s faces, on paper and on holo and out in the galaxy she’s his favored apprentice, his eventual successor. Her family is nothing but proud of her, she’ll be head of a sphere some day, she has power and status and all the influence she could ever need - it should be enough. It should be enough.

It’s not enough.

Maybe it’s a proper Sith’s ambition; maybe it’s just the desire to be treated as something more than an inhibition. Ktis doesn’t quite know, and she’s not sure she wants to, not sure she wants to confront the increasingly difficult to put off realization that’s been creeping up on her for some time now. It’s easier to push away the burn in her chest (closer to shame than anger, if she looks at it - so she doesn’t) as hatred for her master, and that’s normal, that’s Sith - it is in the nature of Sith for them to hate their master. Hatred gives them strength, after all.

If she hates Thanaton, that’s only to be expected - though given his power and position, most expect her to wait until he’s made his move to make her own, or at least to wait until she’s named a Darth. There’s far more leeway for Darths to make moves on each other, far more freedom to do so openly, instead of having to hide their scheming and find a way to at least superficially pin it all on someone else. Lords really don’t have the political support (or, frequently, the sheer power and knowledge) to move against anyone other than their peers, which means that most of Ktis’ fellow lords are currently engaged in petty power plays that will ultimately never achieve their real goals, in lieu of being able to actually act. It frustrates her, if she lets it, with something close to disgust.

At least she isn’t afraid to break that rarely-spoken taboo and move on someone the rest of her order would consider beyond her reach.

Thanaton’s eyes sharpen on her and Ktis hastily tightens her shields, although she’s sure there’s no way he could’ve known what she’s thinking; he’s a seer, not an exceptional telepath, and she’s always been able to feel him in her thoughts before. No, it’s more likely that she’s been standing here watching him too long without the proper obsequiences, and he has something to say to her, but won’t until she acknowledges him. She bites back a sigh, bows exactly the proper amount from a lord to a Dark Lord her direct superior and no further, and when she rises, she keeps her gaze on the twisting tattoo on his cheek instead of his eyes (he gets touchy about eye contact from his subordinates, unless he’s the one who initiated it). Sometimes, when his face shifts just right, she thinks she can see the edges of something hidden beneath the crimson ink, warped from age and exposure - something rough and scarred that looks uncomfortably similar to the scars burned into her own family’s slaves. She’s never dared to mention it, or even to research it or him; some things aren’t worth the price of knowing, even when you’re all but third in line for Ancient Knowledge.

“My lord Thanaton,” she says, voice smooth and low, feeling the heavy weight of her braid swing against her back as she straightens fully. His face never changes - there’s not even a hint of pleasure that she hasn’t embarrassed him by messing up the propriety, just the same disinterested blankness and carefully-concealed derision. His aura in the Force is all twisted with thorns, digging into him, constricting him so tightly it’s no wonder he’s regarded as one of the most uptight and traditional Sith in the Empire, and Ktis thinks, not for the first time, that he hates her. “You summoned me?”

“I did,” Thanaton says, inclining his head to her in the closest thing to a measure of respect he’ll ever grant her. He’s only doing it because it’s proper, because it’s traditional (and she’s not sure there’s ever been a word she’s hated more), and when she was younger, when she was new to his service, she’d clung to those crumbs he’d thrown her like she could fashion a relationship out of them, as though that would fix the way he’d watched her with ice in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking, the way he pushed her into fights and politics she was nowhere near ready for with nothing other than a command to succeed or die - and death was not and has never been an option so she succeeded, time and time again, only for it to bring down further derision on her. Nothing she has ever done or could ever do will make him happy, not even if she brought him Coruscant perfectly contained, or every secret the Emperor has ever hidden away, or the heads of the entire Dark Council and the throne of the Empire ready for the taking. “I wished to speak with you about Darth Arctis.”

Arctis has held the sphere for quite a long time, though he’s rarely seen in public anymore, preferring to spend most of his time sequestered away with whatever it is he’s been studying (something Rakata, she suspects - the remnants of their Infinite Empire always seem to be where the strongest Sith inevitably end up). It isn’t surprising that Thanaton’s called her here to speak about him; she knows her master has been making plans for at least two years now, more than likely for as long as he’s been running the sphere’s day-to-day and holoing in for Dark Council meetings on Arctis’ behest. But if he’s finally preparing to make those plans a reality…

When she’d been a child, Ktis had wanted nothing more than to sit on the Dark Council one day. The greatest position any Sith can aspire to - controlling a good portion of the Empire - what pureblood child doesn’t see the Darths who sit those seats and want to be them? Setting foot on Korriban at sixteen, after two years preliminary education at the academy on Dromund Kaas, had been the closest thing to a spiritual experience she’s ever felt. The red sands, the wind, the sun-scorched sky and towering crags and cliffs, the statues that touch the clouds - it’d felt like coming home for the first time, like finally knowing what it truly means to be Sith in more than just religion. A great honor, her acolyte group had said, when she’d found out she was due to transfer there, to train in the ancient tombs that are the closest thing the Sith have to holy places.

It should’ve been a right.

“Of course, my lord,” she murmurs, pushes the complicated tangle of feelings thinking of Korriban always evokes back to the back of her mind. If she’s lucky, Thanaton will allow her to visit his stronghold on the planet itself again soon - and he’s implied she should be considering taking an apprentice, which would also necessitate a trip to the Sith homeworld - and yet even that thought burns something in her chest. It shouldn’t be his decision whether or not she can see the birthplace of her people. “Has he finally emerged from seclusion?”

“Not yet, no.” Thanaton’s sharply-edged tone smooths out as he shifts into speaking about his plans, his ambitions - as always, he reserves his derision for those he views below him, and for her. Arctis may be his master and his enemy, but the current head of the sphere is neither a fool nor inferior, and of course he isn’t Thanaton’s supposedly-favored but always-despised apprentice; he’s earned her master’s respect (in the way she’s never been able to). Thanaton will face him and fight him as an equal, even if he’s hardly straightforward about how he does it. “I believe it’s time he does, however, don’t you?”

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 22 - Familial Ties 🔞

w/c - 5,892

           Choso is on his way to Itadori. He could create a portal but found that he wouldn’t mind using the time it took completing the distance on foot so he could arrange his thoughts. He’s planning on bringing Itadori into the understanding, giving him all the knowledge he’s idly kept to himself over the years. He’s not even sure where to begin but only hopes that he’ll be able to properly explain everything to him.  It seems that even with a slowed pace and shortened steps, Choso ends up in front of the door before he knew it. He takes a moment to collect himself, breathing in deeply. ‘Maybe I should start off with the good news about Elska…’. He knocks on the door lightly and announces that it’s him.

           “Ummm…come in?” Itadori sounds confused that he’d be treated with the courtesy of the warning before entry.

           Choso opens the door with a nervous demeanor, eyes primarily looking at the shabby floor as he turns to shut the door behind him. He’s so anxious that he forgets all of his words completely and upon raising his eyes, sees an agitated Itadori. He wishes maybe he would’ve taken after Naoya in preparation of his room, it being dingy and plain in comparison to Elska’s.

           “You’re Choso, right?” Itadori’s arms are folded into his shaman uniform while he sits in the cushion of the yellow couch that was placed in the room. “I thought you were on our side, you helped us rescue Gojo didn’t you?”

           “I did, yes.” Choso is struggling to find his confidence as he sits in a chair across the couch from Itadori, his black suit feeling uncomfortable. “I know you have a lot of questions…and I plan to answer them all.” He’s now relaxing into his seat as he studies Itadori’s face to judge where to go next. “For starters, Elska is going to be alright. Naoya’s with her now.”

“Naoya? I was told he’s one she needs protection from!” His body language is slightly tensed to this but finds relief in knowing that she’s alright after he was told that Getou attacked her. “She wouldn’t have been put in that situation if you’d left us alone.” He’s not sure what to make of this situation yet, nor of Choso but something is telling him to listen.

           “He’s not a bad man at all, he’s actually one of the greatest I’ve ever met.” He sees Itadori frown to this as he’s not convinced. “I’ll show you in a little bit but first we have to talk…I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time.”

           Itadori remembers Toji once saying that he would want to converse with Choso and this causes him to become more interested. There was something they knew that he definitely didn’t and feels even less alarmed about the visit now. He’s not sure how Choso would show him what he means about Naoya but he decides to let that go and so he can continue. “Ok, I’m listening then…”

           “Itadori… have you ever found your inhumane strength odd?” He asks rhetorically before proceeding, “It’s because you’re not exactly human.” He waits a moment to take in Itadori’s reaction but is kind of relieved when he sees he’s not dismissing him yet.

           “I’m still listening, I really have wondered about this…” Itadori leans in to where his elbows are now placed on his knees and face resting on fists as he lets Choso speak.

           “To put it simply, you’re half cursed spirit in origin, like myself.” He holds his breath for a moment, “To put it even more directly…I’m actually your older brother.” He chooses this instant to hold courage in his expression as he informs Itadori of their familial ties. “I’m gathering you haven’t any memory of this though…”

           “This doesn’t make any sense. How? I had a family…a human one.” Itadori is clearly puzzled and having a hard time understanding how this could be. He looks down to his hands after removing them from under his chin and asks himself, ‘There’s no way, right?’. He’s searching his brain for some kind of excuse but finds it difficult to deny Choso’s words, ‘There is something super familiar about him now that I think about it…’

           “We have more brothers, others like us born of the same Kamo blood.” He sits back up in his seat as the ease of Itadori’s reactions settle him into a more composed way.

           Itadori’s eyes widen to the mention of the Kamo clan, the third of the three major ones. “I still don’t really understand but that’s alright.”

           “Some of our brothers are scattered around the globe, a few still sealed as I was for so long. You were too until the family that raised you in this life found you.” He smiles sadly and softens his eyes, “They seemed like good people, I’m sorry that they’re not with us anymore…” He see’s Itadori’s confusion after that statement, probably unsure of how he was able to know that. “Due to you being Sukuna’s vessel, I was tasked with keeping an eye out on you and so I have for a  while now, even before you were forced into being so.”

           Itadori’s brow furrows as he thinks of his past. “I did actually feel like I was always being watched.” He lightens his tone, “Not in a creepy way but it’s more like I never felt alone!” He smiles now as his mind is trying to churn all of this information at once. “Why am I here though? Is it because I’m your brother?”

           “No, I would probably just approach you normally if circumstances were different.” Choso almost chuckles at the end of the statement, laughing to himself as if he knew what normal really was. He looks around the room further, ashamed that Itadori’s quarters were so plain and barren. “Getou needs Sukuna to help him defeat Gojo. He needs Elska more or less for the same thing, except she’s also been promised to Naoya by the elders.” He leans forward, closer to Itadori and lowers his voice, “But neither Naoya or myself trust Getou. I specifically aim to destroy everything he is.”

           “I really don’t get it…why are you here working for him then?” Itadori is calmer than he thought he would be given the situation of his abduction. He finds this uncanny urge to trust Choso. His gut hasn’t failed him yet, more like the other way around so he internalizes these thoughts as he listens further to what he has to say. ‘…my brother?’

           “Getou murdered two of our siblings.” Choso stops for a second and brings his hands together slowly as he inhales deeply. The sadness he experiences to this day is clear as the humanity within him longs for salvation of his younger brothers. “I don’t even know why but before I could intervene, Kechizu, the youngest, was killed. Shortly afterwards Eso, the middle one, perished while trying to avenge him.” His hands start to shake as he recalls how close they all were, how Choso was supposed to protect them like he swore he always would. “I’m here to ruin Getou from the inside out. He has hurt so many people and will continue to do so if he remains unchecked.” He thinks about the black-haired woman now and how he failed to save her too. He clenches his fists on his knees while looking down to the cement floors.

           Itadori can’t explain why but an uncontrollable sadness washes over him as he hears Choso’s words of their family. It’s almost as if he found a part of himself that was lost for so long, only to lose it again instantly. ‘Could this really be true?’  Instead of communicating this he asks instead, “Why wait to take him out? Are you hoping he’ll fight Gojo too?”

           “I actually do not care one way or another about Satoru Gojo. The only time he will concern me is if he gets in Naoya’s way with Elska. That’s also why I haven’t harmed Getou yet though, I want to help Naoya be successful in his venture.” Choso’s words trail as he remembers the golden light that cascaded over Naoya before, the sheer power that was emitted from him at that time. “There’s something strange occurring in our cursed energy world Itadori.” He looks to him with complete seriousness, “I have a feeling Gojo isn’t the only complete member of his clan.” He sees Itadori’s raised eyebrow. “I can’t say for sure how much but I can tell you Naoya has unbelievable strength that he’s yet to show anyone. I can’t figure out why he would be so intent on hiding it though. Getou claims to be an orphan with no particularly profound background but he’s so incredibly strong himself that I can’t help but wonder if that’s completely true. That power comes from somewhere at least.”

           “What do you mean by a complete member?” Itadori is still struggling to keep up with everything but is trying his best to wrap his mind around it. His mind takes to different instances where he’s seen Gojo in action and is unsure about how he feels knowing there’s a possibility that Naoya or even others could posses the same realm of strength.

           “Gojo is revered and feared for being the first six eyes user with all other inherited techniques in 300 years…but I have a feeling there may be other clans with the same awakening…like the Zenin’s. Naoya has unwavering power but refuses to let anyone know and I’m beginning to wonder if his desire for confidentiality is due to him possessing the Zenin’s ancient techniques as well.” He leans back further and crosses his own arms as he thinks out loud. “Getou’s strength in itself would hold as a full fledge member but I don’t know which clan his techniques stem from…I’ve never seen or heard of gravity manipulation branching form a lineage.” Choso’s eyes widen in a moment of clarity. “Sukuna might recognize it though, he’s around 1,000 years old!” His eyes shift back to Itadori, “I don’t want you to worry about that right now though, keep your body for yourself.”

“So you’re saying there are others that could potentially be as strong as Gojo sensei?” Itadori’s mouth drops as he thinks of that and fears what that could mean. “Even so, you want to help Naoya but what if I told you that Gojo will stop at nothing to get her back?”

           “That’s partially why the elders have concocted this atrocious plan…they’re hoping for him to attack and initiate the proper means for the elders to vanquish him. If killing him is out of the question I’m sure they won’t hesitate to have him sealed once more.” He sighs as he relives the scene of Naoya holding the dying Elska. His heart shivers at the echoes of his cries that rang through him. “Naoya truly cares about her and I believe him when he says he would never cause her harm. When she was hurt, he fell apart…I’ve never seen him so emotional before…”

           “Sukuna isn’t the most cooperative you know and I also would never give him control to fight Gojo sensei. Not ever.” It’s not often that Itadori speaks so coldly but he can’t help but frown internally about some of the information received. “You would have to fight me and I doubt Elska would ever be convinced to go against him either.” He knows Elska and Gojo love each other and although he oddly trusts Choso, he can’t help but disagree about her being better off with Naoya.

           “I don’t want you giving control to Sukuna either. I detest the thought of you being used like that to hurt the ones you love, regardless of how I feel about them.” He sees Itadori’s eyes light up to this and gives a shy smile to emphasize he was being truthful. “Is there no way that Sukuna would work with us temporarily?” He asks Itadori know more than well enough it was unlikely. The curse is not exactly known for being reasonable.

           “I can try and ask him but I don’t think so…there would have to be something in it for him, probably something terrible.” He throws his arms up in the air to stretch while still sitting, “Plus, Gojo sensei had to suppress Sukuna yesterday so I don’t think he’ll be out for a while.”

           “What do you mean ‘suppressed’ him?” Choso looks distressed and wide eyed.

           “He came out when we saw… something strange and he tried to attack Toji, Gojo and Elska. I think he was trying to take Elska, wanting to…umm…breed I guess with her…” His expression is of embarrassment as he considers he would’ve had to sit front row for that show. “I remember enough but when I woke back up, I didn’t even feel the usual strain from keeping him at bay all of the time like I usually do. It made sense when Gojo told me he locked him down.” Itadori places his hands in his lap as he goes to rest back against the cushion, feeling very casual with Choso and finding himself to respect the honesty he’s receiving.

           “That doesn’t make sense…you can’t just suppress Sukuna…” Choso has brought his hands together, palms flush against each other while the tips of his fingers nudge into his chin.

           “What do you mean?” Itadori is perplexed at this statement as he’s living the proof that he definitely could be subdued. He has to do it all of the time.

           “It just doesn’t work that way with an outsider…he would have had to made a deal with the curse.” He’s now staring at Itadori with concern, not understanding fully what took place. “…and you’ve not felt any issue with him since the occurrence took place?”

           “I mean I still hear him in my head but he’s not trying to overthrow my consciousness.” He’s now finding it odd too, although not wanting to doubt his sensei. “I trust Gojo did what he had to…” Itadori speaks with conviction but now is seriously starting to wonder what it could have been if there was indeed a pact involved. He said it himself just moments ago, in order for Sukuna to cooperate there would have to be some kind of reward or benefit…something awful more than likely. He thinks of everyone back at the academy and wishes he had everyone’s brain power to help him sift through all he’s learned. His expression lights up as he raises to his to face Choso again. “I need to let the others know we’re ok!” He’s now overcome with haste to prompt the others as to what’s going on.

           “Toji has been calling me nonstop but I’m afraid to bring anyone else into the fold. Getou is extremely lethal and he needs to be handled prudently.” With regret in his eyes he asks, “We can make contact with them soon, just not yet. Please, try to understand…”

           Itadori still thinks it’s best to let the others know that they’re ok but also isn’t in the best position to make demands. “I don’t like that part but I’ll wait just a little while.” He’s still looking at Choso, “As soon as it’s ok though, please tell them…I know they’ll worry about us.” He hopes Megumi is doing alright and that Gojo sensei hasn’t lost his mind at them disappearing. “Everyone is against her becoming a Zenin though too, you should know that.”

           He feels terrible for having to ask Itadori to wait to inform his friends but knows it’s absolutely for the best. He’ll probably have a lot of explaining to do when this is all over in order to keep it amicable with Itadori’s party. “I’m grateful that you’ve been so understanding about all of this, I appreciate your willingness to learn about the situation before acting.” He smiles to Itadori again, “As far as her and Naoya go, like I said before, it’s better if I just show you.” Itadori nods to him slowly and can tell he was waiting for that to be explained. “This is how I was able to watch over you for so long.”

           Choso moves to the couch next to Itadori who gladly scoots over to see what he meant. He draws the oval into the air and maps the path to Elska’s quarters. He opens his eyes abruptly when he hears her and Naoya moaning loudly into each other.

“Ahhh!!! WAIT… This isn’t what I meant!” His eyes widen and he becomes red in tint as he embarrassingly moves to look to Itadori for assurance that he doesn’t think he’s a freak. Itadori’s eyes blare open as blushes immediately. He rips his gaze away from the window and stares into the floor awkwardly. It seems like Elska and Naoya were at the end of their sexual floundering but he was still nervous about what Itadori would feel about that and goes to wipe the technique until he hears Getou’s voice.

“No…not again…” Choso is fluster free as he waits to see exactly what Getou is up to by being in there. He’s ready to move if he strikes against Naoya or her. “…Getou.”

           “That’s Getou? What is he doing?” Itadori is watching Getou sit on the bed as Naoya and Elska sit bare into each other. The angle doesn’t show their nudity, aside from Naoya’s ass so he’s not terribly bothered by it but feels uncomfortable for Elska as the supposed dangerous man creeps closer to them. ‘Is she with Naoya too?’ His confusion increases.

           “I don’t know but if he attacks them then the plans change.” He feels his body tensing up as he quickly tries to come up with alternatives that would suffice if shit hits the fan. “What he did to her was unacceptable…I know it’s taking everything in Naoya to let him live.”

           Itadori is watching the way Naoya stands in between Getou and Elska, seeing the fire in his expression. He doesn’t seem as possessive as Gojo even while claiming her at the top of his lungs to Getou’s face. Only the worst of rumors have met his ears about the Zenin clan but everything Naoya is displaying with Elska actually goes against it all. They didn’t value women for anything aside from bearing children, he knew that much. Naoya seems to really care for her well-being though, at least in this interaction. He tenses up too as he sees Getou side step to see Elska.

           “He’s a really bad man Itadori, we can’t let him have his way.” Choso’s brow is furrowed until he see’s Getou leaving the room. “His plan is become an elder, this job is from the elders. If he can ascend to such heights then we will be in a world of hurt.” He then looks to Itadori who is watching Naoya protectively console Elska while watching the door to make sure Getou left. “I am so thankful that didn’t escalate…but I wonder why he went back? Surely he knew Naoya would be with her after what happened…”

           “I don’t know but I’m glad too.” Itadori’s eyes are still still curiously trained onto Naoya and Elska, wondering if something happened between her and Gojo to make her be so seemingly ok with being with Naoya. ‘Everything seemed fine before we left…’ but then he remembers how strange it was that Toji was there naked in their room with them. ‘I completely forgot about that!’ He thinks for a moment but then hollers out, “Toji!! Toji is like her but I’m pretty sure he needs Elska to feed from! He’s my best friend’s dad…” His heart sinks as he thinks of the stress the others must be under with them both missing. It’s more than just being upset at their vanishing, Elska was actually imperative for Toji as far as he knows.

           “Naoya and I are already working on how to handle that. We both care for Toji too and will not see him undone by this.” Choso relays a warm smile as he assures Itadori that no harm will come to anyone if they can help it.

           “That’s…incredible…thank you.” Itadori feels his trust was not misplaced in Choso and is still finding himself surprised by how kind the powerful being is.

           “I will try to arrange it so you and Elska can visit with one another. I know that would probably be nice for both of you.” Choso goes to stand, feeling lighter than ever as his fears fall away about Itadori’s judgment of him. “For now though, I’m going to figure out how we can take care of Toji too.” He starts walking to the door but is stopped as Itadori calls out to him.

           “I still need to let everything soak in but Choso…” Itadori is leaning forward in the yellow cushion, “If you’re really my brother…then I’m happy for that, you seem like a good person.” He smiles to Choso meaning every inch of his visible affection.

           “That brings me the upmost joy.” Choso feels like his heart may have mended slightly from the loss of his other brothers. He was never going to let harm befall Itadori. He was going to be the greatest big brother that has ever lived.

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

           Getou found himself extremely irritated with the pressure in his groin. ‘Why do I suddenly want to impale that bitch?’ He’s made it back to his new quarters, although he can’t ignore his disappointment that his lovely black-haired beauty was gone. He never meant for her to die, she actually refrained from breathing even after he released his grasp from around her neck…she genuinely was never going to submit. “Now I have nothing to fuck.”

           He sits back in his brown modern wingback chair as he sighs his frustrations into the air. His eyes are strapped to the ceiling while he storms his brain for an explanation. “Something is definitely up with that fucking girl…” He brings his gaze back down to his lap and knows he’s going to just have to take care of it. Not even the walk minimized the blood flow, he was still throbbingly hard. “Ugh…fuck…”

           He unzips his suit pants and lifts his hips so he can push them down to his knees. His bulge is prominent through his light grey briefs. As he slides those down as well, he grabs himself and begins to stroke. He tries to picture his black-haired goddess, the one he wanted for so long but the disappointment of her resistance causes his hands to stop the jerking motions. Not even his fondest memories of debauchery of with her were doing it for him. “Fucking women… almost completely useless creatures.” He closes his eyes and begins to pump himself again but this time his mind takes to Elska.

           He’s imagining how entitling it would feel to pummel her throat with his length. “Maybe then she wouldn’t have anything distasteful to say.” He’s actually finding himself very turned on by the idea as he pictures how pitiful her face would be as her tears flow down her face to his stretching. “Mmmmmm” He’s liking the idea more and more as he visualizes her lips meeting the base of his member, him jutting his hips into her to further abuse the situation. He can almost hear her gagging as he continuously spreads her throat. Her trying to push him away while he absolutely controls the situation sends a twinge to his testicles. “Fuck…yes…”

           He’d wrap his hand into her brown hair and yank her off so he could see her disheveled expression as her saliva connects them both. He would then degrade her verbally, call her a slut and make her say that she liked it before slamming himself back into her mouth. He might even spit on her and smear it with his glistening tip. His hand finds an increased rhythm as he pictures fucking her face so horribly that her eyes can’t even remain open… but that’s when he’d command her to look at him. When she fails to do so he’d remove himself from her mouth hastily and slap her a few times…the last one being hard enough for her to fall to her side.

           He figures she would try to scurry away but he’d grab the chains wrapped around her and pull her back towards him while she screams out in horror. Her stomach would have contact with the floor but he’d use her metal restraints to bound her arms behind her back as he straddles her flattened body from over top. He allows his imagination to run wild as he forces himself into her completely while she lies on the floor in displeasure. “Take it like the nasty little whore you are.” He mumbles to himself as he continues to yank himself off. He’s so hard by this point he’s unsure of how long he’ll last like this but is salivating as the imagined scenario plays further.

           She would likely still fight him, so he’d have to use his body weight to keep her pinned as he violently thrusts into her. It wouldn’t be fun to use his technique. He even pictures her crying his name out in distress and finds it so exhilarating that he almost felt himself get close to releasing. “God…I would fucking dominate her…” His brow furrows as his eyes remained closed, fist still engulfing his extension rapidly. He then wonders what it would be like to do so in front of Naoya. He bites his lip and he entices himself further to the depravity of breaking him while simultaneously breaking her in. It would be better if Gojo were there too though.

           Naoya would be trapped by gravity no doubt but would be purposefully positioned in such a way that the only thing he could see would be Getou splitting her. He’d probably yell to no end, announcing threat after threat as he helplessly watches her body bounce off the floor from his crude impacts. He’d then grab her by the neck and bend her backwards so she’d have to look up to Naoya.

           “He’s not such a great prince now, is he?” While her tears roll down her face, he’d snap his hips a few times for additional effect as she’s made to take it all. He imagines she’d somehow be sopping wet from this as he grips his length a few times to simulate her spasms around him. “Fuuuck…” his light moans now erupt as he continues. He can see himself laughing in her ear, mocking her whines before pulling out from her and lining up for a different type of punishment. He’d broadcast boisterously to Naoya that he was going to ruin every useable orifice of hers, reveling in the fear that would stem from them both. He bets that as he nudges into her rear she would wince and attempt to scoot, attempt to run away from him. He of course wouldn’t allow that.

           As he pictures himself ramming relentlessly, he can’t help but let the thoughts of him wrecking her all over bring him to his release. The images in his mind are so fucking wonderful that he just keeps replaying that specific switch of holes over and over until he’s finally filling his hand with his contents.

           Upon opening his eyes, he certainly felt relieved but also is disgusted in himself for thinking of her to get there. “What a fucking mess.” He looks to his hand that’s seeping DNA and stands to halfway pull his pants up to go wash his hands, trying not to do drip on the suit along the way. He’s confused as to why he had felt so compelled do that, why he wasn’t able to stave off masturbating. “I have to figure out what it is about her that causes these…issues.” He’s lost in thought as he washes his hands extensively, not meaning to for as long as he was. He turns the water off at the porcelain sink and dries his hands on a rough green towel hanging on the grey papered wall near it. He would rather not use his clan technique to spy on her but feels it might be necessary to get to the bottom of things. It’s that or he jeopardizes the entire operation by going back to her room and fucking her senseless. He’d be forced to kill Naoya then too. “There’s too much on the line.”

           He then thinks to grab his phone, he has a lot of updates to report.

           He dials the number, it being saved into his memory versus the phone. As it rings, he holds the phone between shoulder and chin as he fastens his pants again. He’s trying to pretend that he didn’t just fuck his hand to the thought of her. ‘Unacceptable’. The phone line picks up after the third ring and he’s met with a voice on the other end.

           “I would just like to inform you that we have them both.” A smirk now forms across his lips as he’s happy to finally be able to say that. “We still don’t have Gojo but with the girl and the vessel here, we can corrupt them and force them to join us.”

           “We can certainly try with the vessel but there are major risks that pose a threat with repeating the same manipulations on the girl’s mind.” The tone of the male voice on the other end is calm but also domineering. “If her mind breaks, we can’t hope to predict what that will mean.”

           “Why is everyone so concerned about this? We can just fucking kill her if it doesn’t work. She’s not as necessary as you all seem to think.” Getou is irritated by that response, he would really rather the bitch be out of the equation totally…he truly does not want to be adhered to her.

           “You still have much to learn Getou, do not act rashly.” The other person clears their throat. “If she loses control, we don’t know how powerful she will be. We cannot guarantee that we’ll be able to contain it.”

           “Well she certainly isn’t going to accept her fate with me either, I can almost assure that.” Getou’s frustration is obvious as he unknowingly taps his fingers along the surface of the table in front of him.

           “She doesn’t have to be willing, she just needs to remain unharmed. I know you detest the idea but you have to keep her safe, she’s just part of the bigger the picture.”

           “Tch. You’re right, I definitely don’t care for that.” Getou is now twirling the ends of his hair that have escaped his bun. He was smarter than to let them know of his recent theft of her wing, he knew that wasn’t allowed. “When can we get this ball rolling again?”

           “You should have a meeting coming up in the next couple of days with the elders. Just keep your focus and mind yourself for a short while longer. Everything is going rather smoothly now.”

           “I have a feeling that Zenin may try to undermine me, he’s hiding something important, I can tell.” He thinks of Naoya’s drastic change in personality within the last few months, ashamed in his former accomplice’s weakness for the girl. “What do I do if he tries to take her?”

           “You don’t allow that to happen.” The voice is now dreadful with seriousness, “You’re the next head of the clan so you will have to behave as such and be able to navigate these kinds of situations. We’ve waited 900 years for someone like you to be born again, you cannot mess this up.”

           Getou slams his fist down on table. “Just let me kill the fucker and it’ll be dealt with! What’s the point of having all of this power if I can’t use it to wipe out our enemies?”

           “You will get your chance to but you first have to face Satoru…or have you given up on that timeless revenge?”

           “Of course not, I am eager to hurt that fucking cunt…we’re just so close and I’m losing my patience.” Getou realizes this revelation as he speaks it out loud. He’s usually so good about waiting, he has for all these years anyways so what’s a few more weeks or even a month? Getou thinks of his mentor and all of the admiration he had for him, how Gojo himself snuffed the one light in his life.

When Getou was a child of age 5, he had a typical temper tantrum for not receiving his way, most kids do. The difference here was in this same moment, all of his abilities came to fruition from the astronomical magnitude of emotions he experienced. Being so young, he was not able to control the feelings nor was he aware of it being a problem, he simply just felt them. Without meaning to, Getou unleashed his gravity technique and slowly crushed his parents to death, horridly watching the life fade from them as their cries silenced to trade for growing amounts of surrounding blood. He hadn’t a way of understanding that was even him that caused it, he was just plastered in place, immobilized by fear. This was a moment of evolution in his life being that he was then recognized as the long-awaited youth that reclaimed the clan’s ancient techniques. His growth came at the price of his heart for the memory is so fucking horrifically shattering, he can still recall it clearly to this day. Often times it takes place of his dreams causing him to constantly feel tired and unrested.

He was secretly celebrated amongst his clan’s elders and people after this, them all putting the faith and responsibility of absolute greatness on the young boy’s shoulder. He may have developed differently had he more support but the same members also feared his capabilities and much like Gojo in a sense, suffered the duality of his existence. There was only one man that had the strength in his heart to raise Getou, to provide him with the backbone he so desperately needed. Genghis Temujin.

Gojo’s killed so many in their clan and each death weighs on Getou but he can never move beyond the fact that his mentor suffered extremely at Gojo’s hands. ‘Experiments…’ It’s been years since the silver shaman abused his clan but for years before that, they agonized immensely under his tyrannous involvement. His clan was pertinent to Gojo’s goals then…and it would help them advance their own ideas along with the elders as well so they remained compliant.

           “Alright then. I need to you gather yourself, there’s much to do in the small time remaining.” The voice pauses but then proceeds, “Indulge Zenin for a while longer, you may need him even with the help we expect from the vessel against Gojo. If he’s so enthralled with the girl then surely, he’ll fight to keep her there.”

           Getou sighs in annoyance some more, trying to center his brain around the true task at hand. “I understand and I will make sure everything is ready over here.” He hears them say “Perfect” before the phone clicks and gives tone of a dead line. Getou slowly lowers the phone from his ear as he relishes in the excitement that they’re that much closer from eliminating every single one of their obstacles.

           “Master Genghis…” his eyes become dead in sight as he imagines the amount of agony his mentor suffered. His purpose is embedded back into his thoughts as he allows his own darkness to soothe his physical body.

“I will avenge everyone.”

Next Chapter (23) >>

Chapter List

[fabelyn]

In Carcere Ch.40

Pairing: inahoxslaine (orangebat, inasure)

Rated: T Warnings: spoilers for series finale Chapter: 40/? (previous chapter) Chapter Word Count: 13k

Summary: At first Inaho visits out of duty and humanity. And then he finds he can’t stop going back to see Slaine Troyard.

“I’m sorry to say, I can’t reveal who our leader is yet,” Lemrina says the minute she can find some time alone with Inaho. “He actually requested it from me after meeting with Slaine. He says he’d like to talk to you without prior knowledge coloring the discussion.”

Meaning he wants to ensure I don’t have time to prepare or plan based on his identity. At least I know it’s a male, though that was hardly unexpected considering the male gender predominance in high Martian ranks. 

“And while normally I would assume your lack of expression might help…”

“You don’t want to risk the breach of trust it would be if I accidentally reveal I knew in some way. I understand. I assume he revealed his motivation and plans to Slaine?”

“They didn’t have time to go over details of the current plan, but yes, he told Slaine why he’s doing all this and some other relevant information I can’t reveal.”

“And Slaine’s verdict?”

“Agrees the words made sense, and the emotion demonstrated seemed real, so Slaine ‘trusts him as far as he can shoot him’.”

Inaho nods. “So he has decided to believe this man but hasn’t been blindly led and is keeping a healthy skepticism. Good, in between you two choosing to follow him, I assume I will have the same opinion, unless I’m privy to information you both were not.”

Lemrina is pleased enough with the mild compliment, as Kaizuka acknowledging anyone else’s intellect is certainly one, and tries to be gentle. “I’m sure it all means he should be coming to you soon.”

“That depends, did he also ask Slaine not to tell me?”

“Hm, I don’t know actually.”

“If he asked the same of Slaine, it means he won’t be coming anytime soon.” Which is a nuisance; the faster I can discuss this with Slaine, the better.

“Maybe that will be for the best, I heard the medical staff say you’re making quite a bit of progress, but that doesn’t mean you’d be fully mentally ready for him soon.”

“Certainly. And did Slaine go forth with our plan?”

“You mean, that pathetic excuse of an idea, where you pretend to only be pretending to love him?” Lemrina hisses.

“Did you not once pretend to only be pretending to be in love with him as Asseylum?”

Lemrina gasps as if he’d physically slapped her. “That… was different . And much more toned down. And… and besides if you really think it’s the same situation, all the more reason for you to accept my opinion on the subject as the correct one.”

With that, she pushes her wheelchair out of the room.

Inaho is hardly concerned; Lemrina is hardly one to be fine with prolonged solitude. And his observation was perfectly logical, she will admit it herself soon if never out loud to him. She will be back.

*

And she certainly was.

“I think it’s time to tell you one more thing.”

You mean you forgot to do so yesterday when you left in exaggerated displeasure. “Yes?”

She recounts the Emperor’s situation as well as Slaine’s fears.

Inaho considers it. “This is something I should examine further when I’m fully recovered. But for now I agree with Slaine’s interest in this. How both the UFE and Vers treat you and Asseylum will change according to this knowledge. But, we have an edge over both.”

“Rayet’s attempt,” Lemrina says. “I asked her before coming over. She told me she tried strangling Asseylum to the point where she required CPR to be revived.”

Inaho nods. “Correct, and at that time, Asseylum was the one that had directly activated the Deucalion, and it stopped functioning, confirming her momentary death.”

“By then, Slaine had already received aldnoah from her by way of CPR—what?” Lemrina stops, noticing the rare sight of Inaho’s lips quivering upwards for a moment.

“Nothing, the coincidence amuses me.”

“I hope you’re not thinking this is a case of indirect kissing?” Lemrina asks in disgust.

“No. I never understood the logic behind attaching the sentimentality of a kiss to the action of sharing a surface at different—”

“No need to go further, I’m satisfied. What’s important is that Slaine retained his aldnoah access even after her momentary death.” She sighs. “If only all of the Deucalion crew hadn’t witnessed that death and subsequent system failure. It will be easy for either faction to get their hands on that information.”

Inaho shrugs. “Even if they do, it’s of little consequence unless the knowledge that Slaine piloted the Tharsis thanks to Asseylum is also information they can procure.”

Lemrina considers it. “It’s hard to say for certain, but I think not. He first used it when he was with Count Saazbaum.”

“During a fight between planets, where all eyes were elsewhere, and Slaine didn’t use the Tharsis to interfere in a way that would have gotten him noticed before he took off with Asseylum in tow. At which point one could assume that he drank her blood and only after was able to use the Tharsis to leave.”

“Count Saazbaum was aware of my existence, so one could assume if Saazbaum didn’t pass his aldnoah access to Slaine, I might have. They'd have to go as far as know Slaine only met me after using the Tharsis.”

“Although that only works for people that are aware of your existence. Meaning, assuming that you and Slaine met before his using the Tharsis is something that may only dissuade your leader from looking for— wait.” Inaho considers it further. “Slaine could have operated the Tharsis without the aldnoah drive, if Count Saazbaum had allowed it, unless he made a show of being able to operate it fully when he reached martians with Asseylum?”

Lemrina shakes her head. “No, initially there was an uproar as they focused on saving her life. Count Sauzbaum took over and simply acted as if her rescue was his plan and Slaine a mere follower of his. After that, they focused on silently keeping her coma a secret and pretending I was her, partially recovered. There was no interest from martians to getting to know Slaine, much less the extent of what he could do with the Tharsis.”

Inaho’s head begins to feel uncomfortable. Although he can still plough on further, he’d rather not do any damage that might show up on test results. “This is as far as I can go for now,” he says, pointing to his eye. “But I can still say at least this until I’m able to reflect further: I don’t think we are at the risk of either martians or terrans finding out the truth. One would have to have an intricate knowledge of Slaine's abilities with the Tharsis, a timeline, as well be aware the Deucalion shut down mid flight once. We never divulged to every crew that it was due to Asseylum nearly being murdered. I don’t see it happening. Besides—”

“Really, if it’s hurting you, you can stop and retake this another time!”

“This much I can handle. It’s one last thing. If your leader was on the path of closing in on the truth, he’d have to ask you, Slaine or Harklight for details on Slaine and the Tharsis. So long as neither of you ever divulged anything to him, only we know about this.”

“He never asked. So we know something neither the UFE or he does. I wonder if we can use that to our favor? Ah, but don’t think about that now!”

It is frustrating that he can’t reflect on it now. Even more so when Inaho acknowledges there are many things he could have already thought through if he’d been invested in it since the start.

There’s no point in regret now.

*

“ Ha! I win again. Told you that the second match was a fluke. There’s no way I’d lose to someone who… who…”

Rayet realizes too late that making fun of Slaine for being incarcerated and thus not being allowed to work out properly really isn’t a good look.

“I mean, of course I wouldn’t lose every match, but it’s actually really impressive you bet me in arm wrestle at all! You should be proud!”

Slaine bursts out laughing. “You are even worse at giving compliments than Inaho. It’s fine, really. It is the truth. I’ve been tying some stuff together and lifting those but the results are slow.”

Rayet relaxes; Slaine laughing without a biting edge to it is rare and a good sign. “I used to think anyone could pilot if they had the coordination for it. It took me a while to realize you do need strength to keep your stamina at the controls for long. Nina and Inko always complain about feeling bruised after too long.”

“Did you visit them before coming back? How are they?”

“In good spirits. Which is something, after being forced to work like that for the UFE.”

“Can’t they simply quit?”

“Not everyone can walk away that easily. They let me go at first because they thought I was touched in the head. Inaho, they assumed broken, plus I guess since he was only leaving to take up, well, you, I guess that worked out just fine. The old geezers aboard the Deucalion… I think they refuse to leave because they know the UFE is simply going to shove someone else in their place, so they might as well stay aboard to protect the Deucalion.

“And the rest… I guess they could ask to leave but… and go where? I guess this is my own fault because I keep complaining, and also because you only saw them when the UFE started doing shit. But the Deucalion itself… It feels like home. And safe. If there was a way to leave the UFE without sacrificing the Deucalion, who knows.”

“... Speaking of the Deucalion. Rayet?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you tell me about that time you once mentioned, when you tried to strangle Her Majesty?”

Rayet leans back on her chair, now worried again. “...Why?” Inaho had been very emphatic about not trying to pry the topic of Asseylum out of Slaine in his absence. The possibility of Slaine himself bringing it up hadn’t factored in. Especially not with this sort of request. 

Then it hits her. “Oh, wait. Is this about the aldnoah thing? Lemrina asked about the same thing. Yeah, I tried killing her, she fainted, Deucalion went down, she was revived.”

“Yes. But I’d like the details, please.” 

Not that Slaine truly needs the details, but it’s clear Rayet is treating him like some invalid that cannot handle even that, and it’s grating on his nerves to not be able to show he is not as unstable as he had been. “I think they might be important.” he lies. “And it’s fine, you won’t upset me.”

Rayet considers it, then shrugs. She can blame Slaine if Inaho complains later. “Alright then. My memory is a little foggy because I wasn’t in my right mind but uh… I was in the shower, reflecting on, well, watching my family be killed before my eyes.”

Slaine blinks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known. Anyway, in comes Asseylum chatting happily to her maid about how everyone is so nice to her and I just… broke? I know how ridiculous it sounds when I tell anyone. Hell, even back then I knew I wasn’t okay doing it. Anyway, the motivation was stupid so we can skip that—”

“You can skip it if that’s what you want. But as for stupid motivation to commit crimes, I certainly cannot judge you, if you wan’t to talk about it,” Slaine says with a mirthless smile.

“...I blamed her. But it wasn’t like my anger now. Now I can see her actively failing and harming people, so it feels like it’s okay to feel this way. But back then… I blamed her for things that weren’t really her fault. I mean, everything happened because she was so naive, but there’s a limit to what I can blame her for that. My family was tasked with murdering her with false promises of glory. Then they were betrayed and killed instead. We had lived a life of lies until then, not being allowed to reveal where we came from, even. 

“I thought… if she hadn’t come to Earth, none of it would have happened. And then, despite the destruction that her arrival inadvertently caused, she went around skipping through the corridors of the Deucalion like she was out on a fun vacation. No one even blamed her for it! It was too much. My family was dead and she didn’t even look upset . I wanted her to stop smiling. ”

Rayet’s hands are balled into fists on the table. Slaine reaches out to place his hands over hers.

How different from the me of back then . Cruhteo would whip him, tell him he was worthless, the rest would at best ignore him, at worst steal his food and beat him up. Every day he had to walk in tiptoes, no mistake was ever too small to not get ruthlessly punished for.

And then there was her, smiling brightly and talking about seeing birds and water, unaware of his treatment. 

He had loved that. He could bask in her obliviousness and for a while pretend nothing was wrong, nothing was happening to him. He had needed that small amount of joy to get through the day.

...But would he have ever suffered that much if she had known and done something to stop it?

No, don’t do that. Don’t blame her for the things you never told her about.

“What then?” He asks, hoping to pull them both away from a spiral by focusing elsewhere.

It works, and Rayet focuses. Her hands relax again, so Slaine takes his back. “So then the maid left to do… whatever, I don’t remember. I wasn’t in my right mind, like I was acting on autopilot. I went to where she was showering, and grabbed... the nearest object I could to choke her.”

“You choked her with a towel?” It would have been easier to use her bare hands.

“No, I don’t remember what that object was.”

“I deal with Inaho constantly. Don’t try to lie to me.”

“... It was that pendant.”

Slaine lets out a sound that is between incredulous laughter and choking.

“I really only brought her more misery, didn’t I?”

“Slaine—”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have given it to Inaho. I guess it brings bad luck.”

That he switched so fast from focusing on Asseylum to worrying about Inaho makes Rayet excited enough to speak without thinking. “He’d have taken it anyway.”

“What?”

“... Because… Because he doesn’t believe in that stuff, you know.”

“Ah, right. So, you used my pendant.”

“Right. She eventually stopped struggling and fainted so I let her fall to the floor. I just...stood there not really thinking. But then the Deucalion lurched, fell and stopped moving. Then Inaho and the maid came back.”

“He likely realized what the Deucalion losing power meant.”

“I guess. And then more people came, they brought in a defibrillator. Inaho personally administered CPR…”

There is a fleeting expression on Slaine’s face, that goes away too quickly for her to make out. 

“She woke up again, but the Deucalion didn’t start up.”

“Yes, once turned off, aldnoah needs to be personally activated again.”

“Right. And… that was it. So, Lemrina said this all means even if the former Emperor does die, martians will keep their power?”

“...Yes.”

Rayet clicks her tongue in annoyance. “There really is no easy way to get rid of their power.”

I wonder. “Please don’t tell anyone. No one knows as much as we do.”

“Don’t worry. The only person I’m inclined to tell is Inaho, and I know Lemrina is going to fill him in. As for why knowing is so useful, I’ll leave you scheming people to it. Now, one more game before I leave?”

“Since Inaho isn’t around, how about poker?”

“Sure, but don’t invite that Harklight. He looks like he can keep a straight face a little too well.”

*

Slaine does, later on, invite Harklight for a game of poker.

Rayet was right; he does have a good poker face.

“That’s it,”  Slaine says after the third loss in a row. “You are playing against Inaho when he comes back.”

“I fear I’m not quite that good.”

*

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“Don’t be silly, I know how packed your schedule is.”

Packed mostly with useless fluff. Still, it is necessary to establish a routine of continuous movement and meetings, so as to mask any suspicious activities.

Mazuurek, leading the way to a private room, continues the mindless chatter. “I’m surprised you came so early, in fact. I hope I haven’t interrupted any important meetings, I really have nothing urgent to say, I just miss personal company sometimes.”

“On the contrary,” Klancain replies. “I happened to have an opening.” True, as dropping a meeting to randomly visit Mazuurek might seem suspicious. “So it was simply luck that I could come over so soon.”

Instead of answering, Mazuurek stops in front of a door and opens it for Klancain to walk inside.

It’s one of Mazuurek’s favorite guest rooms, and Klancain is casual enough with Mazuurek to sit himself down on a couch.

“This room is safe, I always check,” Mazuurek assured him, sitting down on the opposite side.

“Is somewhere in your Landing Castle not safe right now?”

“Not that I’m aware. But, well, I thought it might be prudent to be careful.”

“Oh yes. Pardon me, I didn’t mean to come off as judging you, my friend. It is indeed better to be safe than sorry in these troubled times. It’s just that, if you had a more concrete belief on being spied upon, I could try and help.”

Before Mazuurek can answer, there is a knock on the door and a servant comes in bringing food, glasses and a bottle to set the low table between the two Counts.

“That was different,” Klancain comments mildly when they’re alone again. “Usually I see that former maid of Her Majesty’s.”

Mazuurek smiles as he grabs a pastry. “She had been granted some vacation time off. I made some calculations and realized she had accrued two months of vacation she had never bothered to request. Hungry?”

“Not really, thank you, but I’ll accept a drink. And that was nice of you.”

“Not that nice, according to her. She certainly acted like I was kicking her out, not rewarding her with some time to rest.” Mazuurek sighs. “I used to allow them to do as they wish with their vacation, but I’ve noticed my martian underlings all refuse to take time off, so I decided to set her as an example. Really, I do understand that in between needing to build up Vers to become hospitable and then getting ready for war, we hardly ever had time for such things. But now that we’re here, I want to increase Labor Rights so my workers have a better life. Even if it takes a while for it to sink in.”

“A commendable idea. I should reinforce that in my own Landing Castle. Oh!” Klancain had been examining the drink bottle and finally noticed the label on it. “This is new, and from your territory, no less. What’s this, Mazuurek?”

Mazuurek looks half apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I was hoping to hear your opinion on it? It’s something that has been around for a while here, but recently I thought of perhaps increasing production and trying to export to other territories. It might help the economy.”

“I’ll gladly be your test group. Let’s see…” He tries taking a sip. “Very good. I can definitely see this succeeding as an export.”

“I hope you aren’t saying that just to please me.”

“I wouldn't jeopardize your economic endeavors by lying about their success rate. But tell me, has something happened? I thought you were doing fine.”

“Fine is good, certainly, but I want more than that. Perhaps with a surplus of income I could expand and help more people. Not to mention… who knows how things will be in the future, considering the current situation.”

Ah, here we go . 

Mazuurek waits, but when he sees Klancain has no plans to say anything, he continues, now serious.

“The UFE murdered Count Mikael.”

“...Yes.”

“And you knew about it.”

“I did.” 

“Why didn’t you…”

“Do anything?” Klancain downs the rest of his glass in one motion, then looks at Mazuurek with sincere despondency. “Because there was nothing I could do. If I had sufficient sway, I would never had allowed the UFE to not only murder one of our own, but to go further and do it in a way to create strife between our people. Yes, I knew about it; but that is the extent of what I can do. The terrans that compose the UFE Council did not arrive there by easily listening to martians. 

“...You could have told me.”

“Did Kaizuka tell you?”

“I... thought we were closer than Kaizuka and I,” Mazuurek says, and colors lightly, likely from frustration.

Klancain flinches; he’s gone too far. “I apologize, my friend. The subject is a complicated one for me. If you’re upset with me for not having done anything, rest assured I am even more so. I didn’t tell you because I saw no point in burdening you with it.”

“But I could have done something!”

“Do you truly think so? What would you have done, then? Revealed what the UFE was planning, thus restarting another planetary conflict and resulting in more bloodshed?”

“... I…”

“If Kaizuka also chose to keep this from you, then it’s because even he realized there was nothing you could do. But please, don’t take that as you are lacking. If it is a failure, it’s one we both share.”

Mazuurek silently stares at him, then his shoulders sag. He leans forward, reaching for his empty glass. 

Klancain grabs the bottle and offers to pour for him. Mazuurek hesitates then, to Klancain’s surprise, grabs the whole bottle from him and drinks directly from it.

“That isn’t very respectful of you,” Klancain says with amusement.

“Ah, screw that,” Mazuurek says uncharacteristically, but he’s smiling.

“Care to share?”

“As much as you care to share your information.”

“Alright, I deserve that. Sobriety it is.”

“Ah, fine, you don’t,” Mazuurek admits, and hands the bottle over. Klancain considers it for a second before shrugging and following his example, foregoing the glass.

“I understand that it’s not as if I’d do anything about it. Just like about… Slaine Troyard.”

Ah. “Kaizuka told you that, too.”

“Oh, you have no idea .”

“Hm? I’m all ears.”

“... No, I will keep the details to myself. Not out of spite, but some things… are Kaizuka’s to talk about. You can go ask him.”

Oh? Did he mention his feelings for Slaine to Mazuurek? A pity it would be too suspicious to inquire about that. “Maybe I will. He and I never had a chance to talk, actually.”

“You’ll work out great, with those tendencies to not tell your friends the very relevant information you know.”

“Mazuurek…” Klancain tries to offer him the bottle again, but Mazuurek refuses.

“No. Look, as I said, I have to admit I really can do nothing about Troyard, nor could I have stopped the UFE without making it worse. But to think that even you will refuse to tell me such important things… it means not only do you not think me useless, you don’t even see me as trustworthy or care about me enough to ensure that I’m also aware!”

Maybe I shouldn’t tread too lightly after all. “I see. So, when will you be telling Her Majesty?”

“...!”

“Come now. Are you perhaps not fond of her enough to keep her informed?” It would be nice if you acknowledged she is hardly intelligent enough for you to ever risk it, but you won’t go down that path.

“That’s… I don’t want to hurt her.” 

“And that, my friend, is why I haven’t told you. Sharing this with you, so you too can live knowing how powerless we are, wouldn’t make me happier.”

Mazuurek’s shoulders sag in defeat. “I suppose I understand. But still, now that I know this much, it’s not going to help me to keep more from me. Promise me you’ll now tell me if you know of the next attack.

“While I can swear I am not aware of any attack at the moment... no, I cannot promise you I’ll warn you of future ones. Not unless you promise you’ll take that information and do nothing with it.”

“...! But what if I find a way—”

“And what way would that be? Visit the Count and stay with him forever? No Mazuurek, I will not risk your life by telling you that information in advance.”

Mazuurek looks like he wants to argue, but again can’t find an argument. Klancain takes pity on him.

“Obviously, if you are ever their target,” he chuckles at the notion, “I will immediately warn you. Although, thanks to Kaizuka, I assume you’ll be on the lookout hereon for suspicious skycarriers requesting permission to land, and you can just shoot Troyard on sight.”

To Klancain’s surprise, Mazuurek groans, pulling at his bangs. “I… am going to try and avoid that. Shooting him down I mean.”

So Kaizuka did say something about his feelings. “What is this? Pity for him now?”

“I guess,” Mazuurek says, and can’t quite look him in the eyes, confirming Klancain’s assumption. “Oh. Maybe you can at least help me with his collar?”

“Hm?”

“Can you acquire the plans to how it was made? I could try and find a way to dismantle it.”

It’s a relief to finally hear something he can agree with, and Klancain smiles. “As a matter of fact, I might be able to procure that for you.” He had, in fact, already begun to do so; if he could remove the collar mid-operations, he could take Slaine from the UFE through the easiest route. “Or at the very least, the signal information. The UFE knows this collar is all that keeps Troyard in check and obedient outside of his cell, the plans won’t be something they’ve left unguarded.”

“I imagine so. But it’s fine, we have to try something. Maybe I could create a device to jam the signal, at least.”

“True, I’ll tell you of any updates I have on that, just don’t get your hopes up too much. And if the UFE tires of keeping Troyard alive, I’ll tell you after the fact. That’s the most I can do.”

Mazuurek sighs. “Fine, I know not to push my luck. That said, Slaine Troyard… I feel partially to blame for that.”

“Hm? Why so?”

“I’ve been thinking, ever since Inaho came over. I recalled when I first heard they’d use him as a scapegoat to secure peace.”

Klancain considers it. “Ah, yes. The UFE Council called Her Majesty in for a private meeting, and neither of us had the power or influence to join in.”

Mazuurek nods. “And then when she came to us later, with the idea of using him in her head, I remember… remember how I didn’t really object. I thought, ‘he’s dead, and nearly succeeded in hurting terrans and was keeping Her Majesty captive, why not?’. I was tired, I wanted an end to all the fighting already and besides, maybe it would be cathartic for Her Majesty to pay him back for the hurt he caused her. I never voiced a complaint.”

“You didn’t know he was alive.”

“Did you?”

“No. We landed on Earth together, remember? I still hadn’t managed to acquire any connections to terrans, much less the UFE or Kaizuka. I didn’t have the information,” Klancain answers truthfully.

“That’s the thing. You also didn’t know he was alive, but you thought things true. I remember how you tried dissuading Her Majesty. You said Count Saazbaum would be more appropriate. In fact, you even offered your father—”

“Ah, please don’t think that suggestion was a big sacrifice on my part. We weren’t close and besides, my dear father would want nothing more than to have his memory used for the sake of Vers’ future.”

“Even so, you tried . I said nothing. It never occurred to me just how fragile the peace we’ve brokered on this lie really is, until Inaho spelled it out to me. Maybe, if I had just said anything…”

“Maybe nothing would have changed.” Klancain cuts his thoughts short. “It wasn’t your job to think of it for Her Majesty, don’t blame yourself for something that you might not have achieved even if you had tried. I could also have done more. Insisted on it, or talked to you to get you to help me. But I dropped it quickly enough, too.”

He had initially wanted for Slaine to not be used, as he had known nothing would seal his fate tighter than that; in any other situation the UFE might lock him up but never as closely guarded as now that they cannot afford to lose their excuse. 

That said, choosing Slaine as the figurehead did help him in other regards; by blaming a young boy, it speeded up martian suspicion of Asseylum by at least a year.

“I suppose. And I’m sure the UFE wouldn’t let Her Majesty change her mind so easily.”

Klancain considers if he can afford to push Mazuurek a little more. He doesn’t want him feeling worse, yet he does need to plant seeds of doubt on him, if he ever hopes to not have to fight him in the future. He chooses to try. “As a matter of fact, that is something I’ve been wondering.”

“Yes?”

“Was placing all the blame on Troyard something the UFE came up with?”

“You mean…!”

“When I think about it, wouldn’t the UFE rather blame a martian Count, instead of a terran boy that had just barely risen to power?”

“So, you think Her Majesty suggested him.”

It certainly sounds like the foolish, lacking in oversight, decision of someone who never had to think of the consequences of her actions in a negative light, and who wanted him to personally pay. “I’m afraid I am leaning towards that assumption, for now. Recall, if you please, that Troyard’s troops were poised on the eve of a victory. The peace protected terrans and not our people. It would not interest them to broker a peace too fragile that would result in Vers taking back the fight before they could even recover.”

“But then, why?”

“Maybe at that moment they wanted nothing more than to please the one person they had to thank for creating the ceasefire. And if her request was something that came with no sacrifice to them or their power, why start their relationship with a refusal? Better to give her that, start amicable relationships with a show of being willing to follow her lead then disagree and push back or more serious matters for the UFE.”

That, and now having something over Asseylum’s head. If she ever seems to be no longer following UFE’s interests, they can hold Slaine over her head. If she tries to amass martian power against terrans one day, they can ruin trust her people have in her by revealing the truth.

And that is the true reason they willingly kept Slaine alive even before they had any use for him. They could have killed him and claimed an accident, or suicide, to appease Asseylum’s sensibility if she ever cared to ask.

He is a tool to overturn regimes. The question is, who will use him.

Wherever you realize it or not, accept it or not, Asseylum, it was Slaine that gave you the power to create this false peace. Everything you built thanks to him, he can destroy.

And I’ll see to it that he does.

Mazuurek does not notice Klancain’s darkening face, lost in his own thoughts.

The UFE’s power must be diminished.

He’d been meaning to tell Klancain of his plans to increase his own influence, but now he’s changed his mind. It’s not that he wants to be petty over the lack of information; he simply feels it would best if Klancain continued to be oblivious, to not harm his own standing in the UFE. 

Besides, Klancain is smart, he’ll notice it in time, if Mazuurek succeeds.

*

“Lemrina, how does the aldnoah transfer work?”

Lemrina frowns. “ You don’t know?”

“Assume I don’t.”

“Fine. By swearing fealty to the Royal Family then accepting our blood. The loyalty and the blood together allow for aldnoah use.”

“Slaine—”

“Other body fluids don’t carry the same power as blood. Rather than that, through skin to skin contact is how loyalty, or love, is verified. That gives the subject a temporary contract; you can use aldnoah to activate one thing to your will, but nothing else. To complete the contract and fully receive aldnoah, blood must then be ingested.”

“I presume you gave Slaine your blood then, during the war?”

Lemrina shifts uncomfortably. “... As a matter of fact, no. I… was foolish. I knew he’d need me less if I did give him, and I wanted to retain some power over him… “

“That was a very sensible decision on your part.”

“No, no it wasn’t. Maybe it sounds like it, but I know there was nothing logical about it, I just wanted attention. Anyway, I would give him my blood now, but I can’t ask for his loyalty.”

“About that, is there some basis, some test done, to ascertain it requires loyalty?”

“A text left behind by the ancients. It said: 

“ Those who are loaned to ‘successor’ and ‘maneuver’ need to ‘recognize’ each other as part of their own. The consciousness that feels like a part of oneself, recognizing that the object is a personality different from oneself, can also be called ‘loyalty’. In other words, it is also called ‘love’. Only to those who pledge ‘loyalty’ or ‘love’, Ald Noah's ‘maneuver’ is borrowed .”

“...”

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just my head.” For once, it’s a lie.

*

“Kaizuka, you have a visitor.”

Inaho frowns at the unexpectedness. He doubts it’s his friends from the Deucalion, or else they’d come as a group. He glances at Lemrina, doing strength training a few feet away, but she looks back clearly just as lost.

“That’s fine, bring them in,” Inaho says.

Even more surprisingly, it turns out to be Eddelrittuo.

“Greetings, Inaho Kaizuka…” she says, and Inaho can’t quite place the look on her face. 

Well, whatever it may be, she doesn’t seem pleased to be here. “It’s been a while, Eddelrittuo.”

“Yes…” Before she can say anything else, she catches sight of Lemrina and her eyes grow wide. “Y-You!”

Inaho sighs inwardly, wishing Eddelrittuo had learned to be a little less open and expressive.

“I suppose working under Mazuurek, you haven’t seen a fellow maid of Her Highness, so your surprise isn’t shocking.”

Annoyingly, she does not catch the hint. “W-What?”

“Hello, Eddelrittuo,” Lemrina says smoothly, coming over as fast as her wheelchair would allow. “It’s been a while since we both worked together under Her Majesty’s employ, hasn’t it?”

Finally Eddelrittuo understands. “Oh! Right! Yes, it’s been so long, how are you?”

“I’m doing better. My legs can almost move again.” To prove her point, Lemrina exerts some effort and her legs kick.

Eddelrittuo’s eyes grow wide again, but for the first time since her arrival, she smiles warmly. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you!”

“I’m done, we can relocate to my room,” Inaho says, trying to steer them towards privacy, but to his surprise Eddelrittuo scrunches up her nose. 

“Why would I want to visit your room?”

So she wasn’t sent by Mazuurek due to a sensitive topic. “That’s fine then. So, why are you here?”

She stomps her foot. “Count Mazuurek he… he gave me a vacation! ” The last word is said as a wail.

Inaho looks to Lemrina, assuming this is a cultural thing. 

Lemrina is frowning slightly. “Vacation…? Oh, yes, I recall that concept.” She giggles and turns to Inaho. “Receiving time off isn’t expected for martians, especially not those… those of us who work directly with the Royal Family. That is a privilege, you see, and needing to rest would imply weakness and dissatisfaction with the work. At most you receive a day or so of rest a month.”

“And I’m not tired!” Eddelrittuo whined. “I didn’t become Her Majesty’s personal maid on a whim! I was picked as the best, and I never shirked from duty!”

Child and slave labor rolled in one. Hm, is this a consequence of the harsh conditions of the planet, resulting in the need for more work and less ethics? Something similar even if not as drastic did occur in Japan after—

This isn’t the time for that. “That is stupid,” he says bluntly. “People need rest, for the sake of their psychological health. There are countless studies on it. Outside of martial law, Earth has civil rights and labor laws in place to protect people, and I assume Mazuurek is trying to implement them.”

Eddelrittuo sniffs. “Yes, he mentioned something of the kind. And said that…” She raised her head up proudly. “As a former maid of Her Majesty and someone that others hold in high esteem in the Landing Castle, I had to be the example to do it first, because if I did it, others would naturally follow.”

So are you upset or not? “So you decided to visit me?” Inaho doesn’t bother to hide the incredulity in his voice. Lemrina bites her lip, but it’s clear she’s stifling laughter.

Eddelrittuo puts her hands on her hips, and looks up at Inaho vexed again. “Obviously this isn’t my idea of this ‘vacation’ thing. When the Count told me to take off from work, I wanted to hang around the Landing Castle to help out. It’s my time off so I could right? But then Mazuurek asked me to run errands.”

“... You could have refused. If it’s your vacation, it means time away from work.”

Eddelrittuo looks horrified. “ Disobey direct orders from the Count?! I am an exemplary maid! I would never! ”

Trying to comprehend this further might just undo all the progress I’ve done with my recovery. I’ll send Mazuurek a list of materials to help him when I can, he’ll need it . “I see. So, what was the errand?”

“He wanted me to bring you... this!” She reaches into her bag and takes out a carefully wrapped up bottle.

He unwraps it as Lemrina looks over his shoulder. “... Alcohol?”

Eddelrittuo is looking proud again. “Not just any alcohol! That liquor was especially made in Count Mazuurek’s territory! He said he wants to start promoting it to other places, so you better show respect and be thankful he let you have such a thing for free!”

Is he planning to supplement his economic revenue by finally taking up trading? This is a luxury item so it won’t have much of a big impact. Then again, if the impact is small, less attention to him earlier on. And the revenue from this could then be used to invest in better items…

“Tell him I appreciate it. I’ll keep it safe and share it with my sister when I return home.”

Eddelrittuo looks satisfied. “Good!” She glances at Lemrina and hesitates. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Is that her loyalty to the Royal family, or did she grow fond of Lemrina after being with her for two years? So long as it isn’t pity it should be—

“I’m fine , thank you,” Lemrina says, too curtly.

Whether Eddelrittuo meant is a friendly gesture or not no longer mattered; Lemrina had interpreted it as pity.

It’s not enough to deter Eddelrittuo. “Now that Count Mazuurek managed to kick me out, I’m going to stay here. I know that if I come back earlier he’ll just send me on another long errand again. So, if you need me, or you just want to talk about… about our work, you can call me!”

“There won’t be a need,” Lemrina insists.

“Certainly, give us your address,” Inaho says instead, and ignores the glare from Lemrina.

He doubted he’d need it, but it might be useful to know where she was staying at, to use her to move around if he needed an excuse.

*

Inaho is finally seen as fit to walk outside soon enough.

Lemrina wonders if she should be polite and act happy for him, but decides not to when Inaho barely blinks at the news.

“It’s only natural. I’ve been fit to do so for some time, but since I never insisted on leaving, they decided to make use of that and pay extra heed. Everything points to me being discharged on time, so naturally they can’t keep me away from open spaces for longer, as they need to see how I react to the public. Besides, the level of rehabilitation necessary has been exaggerated from the start, to dissuade the UFE from using me more.”

Lemrina shakes her head at the predictability of his answer and focuses on moving her feet, frustration bubbling at being unable to follow suit just yet.

“You started your own rehabilitation after mine,” Inaho points out. “If we consider time spent and results, you are making progress faster.”

Is he trying to console her for not being allowed to walk with him? It doesn’t quite work.

“It’s not as if I’m missing out on anything,” Lemrina says, more for herself than him, and even Inaho knows better than to contradict such a thing.

He could have argued in favor of allowing her, accompanied by him, to walk outside with her crutches. However, while Inaho knows the UFE is not monitoring his every move, he has plans he’d rather not have something as conspicuous as someone on crutches accompanying him.

He barely pays attention to the rest of the medical facility as he walks to the exit; he only notes that it remains unchanged, as expected. 

Outside he pauses and pays more attention. The flow of people remains the same as the last time he had been there. No, perhaps it had increased slightly.

Nothing he’d seen had reached the number of crowds he’d witnessed in his birth city before the war, but compared to other places, he supposed this city could be considered of the more populated ones for the current standards.

Just as well for him, as with that many people, he’d be able to find an exclusive martian bar.

Not that, technically, exclusivity was allowed. Asseylum had been vocal against bars that attempted to be specific to any race… which did not mean people had not found ways to circumvent that.

There are two places he’s been told of. One is a bar recommended by Lemrina, as the base for those of her faction in the city.

Not that she had to tell him that. The name alone was clear enough the owner was feeling disinclined to the current martian rule: The Sons of Zeus . 

Even as Inaho is amused at the name —is it overconfidence that no one would understand the bar was, in a way, referencing the Dioscuri , or boldness to not care for consequences?— he would rather not go there. He wants to hear the regular opinion of martians, not the chatter of already converted dissidents.

Which brings him to the restaurant recommended by Mazuurek.

He finds it, entrance half hidden in a narrow alley, and it’s name is equally amusing to him: Prometheus Restaurant .

Martians quite enjoy their Greek. I wonder if the connection in name is on purpose.

There is no window to the inside, and the door is closed, manned by a waitress who jumps to attention when it becomes clear Inaho plans to enter.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man says politely, “I’m afraid we are full. Do you have a reservation, sir?”

And as easily as that, a place could guarantee exclusivity while flying under the radar.

Wordlessly, Inaho takes out and shows him the token Mazuurek had long ago handed him for such a situation. The waiter examines it and smiles, opening the door for him to enter.

It’s dimly lit and, while not truly full, has a decent number of seated people. Inaho finds a table in between two filled ones and sits down. A television overhead is playing the news. He orders something and settles down for listening in.

For a while, nothing relevant is being said. At the table behind him are a couple who are lightly mocking their Count and laughing at their brilliance at having used an errand to make a date week between them. The table in front of Inaho has three martians who are unaffiliated to any Count —did they defect or have their Count die? They never say, but all martians on Earth are military so they must have worked for one— discussing the jobs they’ve been doing in the city to make ends meet. Sadly nothing relevant of the operations is being said, as they are clearly very low on the hierarchy and simply bemoan their work.

And then food and drinks arrive for both tables, and the conversations all converge into awe. Awe at what they’re currently tasting, reminiscent awe over things they’ve tasted before, and hopeful awe at what they’re planning to taste next.

Inaho’s own appetizer arrives, and it isn’t anything he hasn't tasted before.

If martians are still reacting like this to terran food after all this time, then the quality of their food on Vers is worse than I presumed.

And then, finally, something of use to him is said.

It happens, naturally, the moment the television brings news of Asseylum. A hush falls over the restaurant as everyone, even the waiters, stop to look at the news.

It’s nothing much: Asseylum is seen somewhere in Africa, talking to an affected population still struggling after the war, saying she feels for their plight and pledging to help.

“We are all humans,” Asseylum says to a microphone, surrounded by bodyguards, “we should not be harming each other. Vers will make up for the pain it caused our terran brothers and sisters.”

“Why are they so sure the war is the cause for their issues?” Someone grumbles in the restaurant. “I heard terrans were all fighting themselves before we came along.”

“Right, right. That’s why Vers was created in the first place, wasn’t it? To get less people on  Earth to fix their problems.”

“Why is she pledging to help them when she hasn’t even helped us ?” One of the people on the table ahead of Inaho says, voice a little too loud. His companion hisses at him for it, but no one else tries to argue.

No other complaint is forthcoming, but even Inaho can read the displeasure on the faces around him. It’s soon gone, however.

This is not enough for a revolution, but the dissatisfaction has already settled in. If the dissidents want, they can spread and increase resentment until Asseylum’s defenders become the minority.

Inaho waits longer, but there is nothing else of note.

As he leaves, he glances at the name of the restaurant again, and wonders if in the future any call back to Prometheus will be removed.

*

Slaine lays in his bed, running over his talk with Klancain again. No matter how much he thinks back to it, or how much time passes, he can’t get any additional clarity.

Inaho should be coming back in less than a month, if he doesn’t dawdle, but Slaine doubts he will bring back any news of Klancain. Even if the man had requested that he keep the identity from Inaho, it would be foolish of him to go so soon. Whoever he has in his pocket in the UFE might accept a meeting with Slaine… but one followed quickly by a meeting with Inaho? No, Klancain had done everything slowly so far, he could afford to wait longer.

Slaine frowns as he looks at the dark ceiling. That is something he’s wondering about. Why has Klancain been so slow? Certainly, by letting things run their course, the martian acceptance of the Empress may decrease naturally… but he runs the risk of terrans fortifying themselves. Is it a mere oversight of Klancain’s? Slaine doubts it. Either Klancain has less power than he seems, and thus can barely make a move, or he is waiting for something.

How many times have I come back to this? There’s no point, there are too many possibilities, I need Inaho’s insight for this.

Not that Slaine is too frustrated. He had expected to gleam little from the conversation; his main priority was finally seeing who the leader was, and setting in motion his plan with Inaho.

If nothing else, hopefully I succeeded in…

In keeping Inaho alive?

Slaine blinks, and sits up from his bed as the realization dawned. He quickly covers his mouth with a hand before a nervous laugh escapes. He doesn’t want the guard coming in wondering why he is awake.

He could have gotten rid of him. Inaho is useful, but hardly as much as he had been before the brain damage. Not to mention, his status as a terran makes it clear where his allegiances would always truly lie.

If Slaine had wanted to, he could have instead told Klancain that Inaho will be a liability, no matter how nice he is to Slaine in his captivity. The Warden is in Klancain’s pocket, so is Harklight.

Honestly… they could even recreate what they had done for the Empress: stage an accident, murder Inaho, put Lemrina in disguise in his place.

Laughter bubbles again, and Slaine grabs the pillow to muffle it.

He hadn’t even contemplated that. He had so little desire of wanting to harm Inaho now that when the singular chance presented itself all he could focus on was how to protect him instead.

All that time he had wanted him gone and yet failed at every turn… and finally the opportunity only presents itself when he no longer has any desire to do it.

It truly is as if the universe is laughing at him.

Even so… more than the hilarious irony of it all, the situation feels… freeing.

For the first time, for truly the first time, Slaine feels the burden of their roles gone.

No matter how much Inaho treated him as an equal, and no matter how much Slaine truly believed it, the fact never changed that Inaho had his life in his hands.

Now, even if a little, Slaine has a similar power.

Maybe it shouldn’t change anything, yet it does, even if Slaine can’t quite place what.

*

“Do you have a detailed world map? No, of course you don’t. Do you have a personal device that can use the internet?”

Lemrina blinks. Inaho visiting her room was unexpected enough, and his appearance by asking strange questions was even more so.

“... Yes, I do not have a map. And no, I don’t have a personal device of that sort. Why?”

Inaho sits down on her bed. “I knew the probability was very low, but had to check.”

She observes him. She still can’t read his face, but Inaho is talking faster and being ruder than normal. 

This may be his way of being upset. “What’s wrong? Why the map? Why not use your tablet?”

Inaho sighs. “They took away my personal tablet when I got here and gave me a pre-approved one, to avoid my looking at material that might overload my neural senses.”

“And this new tablet won’t allow you to look at a map?”

“It would. But it’s not as safe as mine.”

“Start from the beginning. Why do you need a map and why must it be kept a secret?”

“Inko called me. Inko is—”

“I know who she is, Rayet told me.”

“Inko and my other friends had been planning to pass by me here in a week, but the Deucalion’s route has been changed.”

“... I’m not following.” She hates to admit it, but she doubts Inaho will explain if she doesn't say it.

Inaho hesitates before replying. “The Deucalion has a pre-established route. It has never needed to be changed.”

“Did Inko not have a reason for the change?”

“They told her that with the escalating tension and suspicion due to the Landing Castle massacre, they want to avoid the Deucalion moving in the same pattern as it has for the last year, to avoid it becoming a target from martians. And the new route would also be better for monitoring all the Landing Castles as it focuses on Europe.”

Lemrina huffs. “Well, apart from the fact that we know it wasn’t my people that did it, isn’t this a logical step? The Deucalion is the most well known symbol of terran power, after all.”

“As you said, the UFE knows martians are nowhere near to attacking them yet. That said, yes, this could be simply a ruse to make it more believable that the UFE is just as worried and in the dark about the attack as anyone else. However, there are two other possibilities.”

“Which are?”

“They could be using this to have attention focused on the Deucalion, and with that act elsewhere without being noticed.”

Finally Lemrina understands. “They want attention on the Deucalion to attack another Landing Castle.”

“Possibly. However these two hypothesis—”

“Are you not exerting yourself?”

Inaho frowns. “I have less than three weeks before I’m discharged. I can do this much without backlash.”

“Alright. You were saying?”

“The two hypothesis we’ve talked about so far are easy to verify: if the Deucalion changing route becomes news, then indeed either the UFE wants to act worried over martians, or it wants attention diverted to the Deucalion. I’ve already checked the news, and there is nothing of the sort so far.”

“It could be early days yet. Official announcements often need to be reviewed. If your friends just learned of it, maybe it’s still being sent to the press. But, where does the map come in?”

“... If this change isn’t advertised at all, then something else is being done. I have one or two ideas, but I don’t want to voice probabilities without first checking a map. My knowledge of the European continent isn’t detailed enough to visualize their route and what they’ll be passing through without one.”

“... I think they’ll be allowing me to walk out of this place soon, I could look for one.”

“Bringing back a map will be strange. There is a museum close by. My sister took me to it the first time I was here, there’s a map that will suffice. I would go there myself but, in this case I think it would be prudent to be careful. So I’d like to have you with me as an excuse.”

“Alright. But if you need to acquire one faster—”

“I don’t. Even if we had confirmation, there is nothing we can do, so we might as well be cautious about it.”

“... I see.”

*

There is no news of the Deucalion the next day, or the next, or the following days either.

Lemrina sees Inaho frown sometimes, as he watches the news channels intently.

Perhaps a kinder person than Lemrina might try to placate him with platitutes on how maybe the staff is hiding such information from them, as a means to avoid a lapse in Inaho’s recovery now that it is almost done.

No, there is no reason for them to hide something so simple from him. And he isn’t the sort to feel better by silly words.

It is, however, frustrating to not know what are the possibilities Inaho is worrying about. But Lemrina’s pride won’t let her beg for information he has already refused to impart. She can demand answers again when they manage to procure a map.

If Slaine was around, he’d be able to keep up with Kaizuka and would explain it to me without acting like it’s an obvious conclusion to make.

“Your— Lemrina?” A timid voice brings her back from her reverie, and Lemrina is forced to focus on Eddelrittuo again.

The maid had decided to visit her, and Lemrina didn’t want to cause a stir by refusing to meet.

Worst of all, Eddelrittuo had assured her yet again she’d spend the remainder of her vacation nearby, in case Lemrina wanted her help.

“I apologize, my mind was far off. You were saying?” She asks with a plastered smile.

“N-Not a problem! I just said that it’s amazing how much progress you’ve made!”

Lemrina wants to use her once again functioning legs to kick the girl. Instead she keeps on her smile and pretends to focus on her physical exercise, to avoid having to look at Eddelrittuo.

It’s not, truly, as if the maid has done her ill. She treated Lemrina very well during their time working together, giving her the full respect and attention a legitimate royal member deserved.

… But Lemrina had caught her wistful gazes at her comatose sister. Much like Slaine, Eddelrittuo had seen her as a replacement for Asseylum, and had always hoped that was only temporary.

Of course, if she had forgiven Slaine for that, she could hardly lash out at Eddelrittuo for the same.

No, if the maid’s former actions had simply not created a bond between them, it had not brought out vengeance as well. What was making Lemrina wish to kick the girl out was her actions now. More precisely, her looks.

The pity. The terrible pity in her eyes. Eddelrittuo had never loved her, yet here she is throwing out praises for every little thing. As if she had seen Lemrina as so pitiful and weak that even this much success was beyond expectation. As if she needed validation to succeed. As if she was so miserable she needed the pity of a pathetic little maid who couldn’t even decide her own loyalties.

Slaine is alive. She wants to say that. It would shock Eddelrittuo more than any slap or kick would. She has the words on the tip of her tongue.

You think you can afford to act like I’m beneath you? Like I need your pity and your kindness and your silly little praises? Do you think your words or existence mean anything to me, change anything of mine? Foolish little girl! Pity yourself and the stupid life you’ve led. You gave your all to my sister, did you know she has kept Slaine prisoner all this time? She lied about his involvement, while he is alive and kicking and thanks to her, will never see the light of day! Pity—

She realizes she is stepping too hard and stops, breathing in deeply. To not only shake Eddelrittuo, but even make her fully push away Asseylum would feel vindictive but…

But that feeling would leave, and I’ll just feel guilty. This girl is so young. If my sister, who prepared all her life to rule, can turn out so pathetic, who am I to grow bitter over a little maid, who was taught nothing at all?

So what if she pities me now. I won’t be forced to bear this for long. Soon she will leave, and Kaizuka will treat me like I’m not in rehabilitation at all. Then I can go see Rayet, and Slaine, and Harklight, who will be happy for me but won’t look at me like I’m a charity case…

She sighs. Eddelrittuo is immediately alert.

“Is everything alright? Should I call someone? Can I help?”

Lemrina looks at the eager little face… and pities her instead.

“I might have stepped incorrectly just now, help me to a seat.” She doesn’t request, she demands, even if softly, yet Eddelrittuo happily obliges.

Maybe she doesn’t pity me as much as I think. Maybe what she wants is to be useful. Is she trying to make up for having chosen Asseylum?

… It doesn’t matter. Let her have her peace. I’ve found mine.

As for Slaine… no, she wouldn’t tell her. It would help no one.

Enough people are broken. If all goes well, one day she will know the truth. Let her have her last few moments of innocence.

Eddelrittuo helps her to a seat. Lemrina looks at her and smiles. “Thank you,” she says, then can’t help but giggle.

“What is it?”

“Oh, I apologize for laughing. I’m just… happy I’ve come this far.”

Actually, I’m imagining Rayet’s face if I tell her meeting her has stopped me from lashing out at a martian.

*

Another week, and finally Lemrina’s legs are good enough that she’s allowed out. She makes a show of telling staff she wants to visit the museum she heard is nearby, and Inaho agrees to take her there.

Inaho glances at Lemrina as they walk unheeded towards the exit of the medical facility. She seems focused on walking but nothing else.

Then again, this won’t be the first terran city she has visited, so it’s expected that she wouldn’t be nervous or excited about it.

They walk through a doorway and find themselves in a crowded corridor, with nurses running left and right, and people with physical disabilities being helped around. Inaho ignores it all, naturally as he’s been walking by alone for a while now, but Lemrina pays attention.

“It’s always surprising when I see how crowded the rest of the facility is,” Lemrina says as they pass by the doorway to a room where some wait in a line for physical training.

“It’s because we have connections, so we are rewarded with more space fully dedicated to us.”

Lemrina sighs. “I know.”

“This way,” Inaho says, then walks without waiting for her. His pace isn’t fast, so Lemrina can keep up without struggle. A good thing, as she’d never put herself low enough to ask Kaizuka to slow down for her sake.

Lemrina looks at their surroundings intently as they walk, then turns to him. “I always wondered, looking at all the buildings, is the sparse population a direct result of the last war only?”

“It depends on the location. Although everywhere was impacted by the last attempted invasion, many locations were already partially abandoned as a result of Heaven’s Fall.”

“... Although Mars is a vast planet, the habitable land is small. I have heard the soldiers talk about it, and seen pictures: the streets are lined with people. They have barely any space to walk, much less live. Meanwhile Earth has all this space… Vers could come here and inhabit it without needing to kill more terrans.”

“It’s not so simple. Not every land is equal in resources. Not everywhere can handle now the population density it once could.”

“I know. I’m just saying, it isn’t impossible.”

Inaho doesn’t bother to answer, as they’ve reached their destination. 

The museum was hastily created; Inaho assumes the reasoning being that with the popular medical facility nearby, the museum might thrive.

It was set up in an abandoned office building with a large reception area.

“Lead the way,” Inaho whispers; although he is now certain he is being too cautious, since he can afford to do so, he will.

Lemrina nods, and steps ahead as if leading Inaho to where she wants to go. They pass by the entrance to the martian center as she heads straight to where the Earth exhibit is.

As expected, the room is dominated with a hologram 3-D map of Earth as it is. Thankfully, they are alone.

Inaho reaches out to touch it, and the map amplifies where his fingertip landed.

“It’s interactive, if you want,” he says nonchalantly to Lemrina, who nods and pushes him aside, understanding her cue.

She looks at the map: Inaho had amplified it in Europe. 

Was that by chance or is that where he wants me to focus? This is Kaizuka, I’m sure even this was thought out.

Unwilling to ask for more directions, Lemrina focuses on pretending to be engrossed in it.

It soon isn’t pretense.

So much land, and it all had people living in it? Or perhaps, like the city itself, there was so much space for more…

Focus.

Inaho had told her what to look for before they’d arrived, so she simply scrolls around Europe, between the parts Inaho wants and her random choices.

She’s not sure how long she stood there; being able to see a detailed layout of Earth really did interest her, but eventually Inaho cuts her wandering hand.

“You’ve spent too much time at this, let’s go back,” he says, and Lemrina instinctively becomes defensive.

“It wasn’t that long!” She snaps, before realizing it’s likely just his excuse now that he’s seen enough. Lemrina tries to read the conclusion on his face, but it’s fruitless as usual.

Lemrina wishes she could say she patiently waited until they were back to the medical center to demand answers, but she makes it only as far as the empty road before rounding on Inaho.

“So?”

Inaho doesn’t look at her, but his brows crease slightly. “You need to understand this is mere conjecture, although I believe the probability of this happening to be around 80%—”

“Yes, yes! What is your theory?”

“... The Count that is currently aggressively campaigning against the UFE has a protection the last Count did not. His Landing Castle is based deep within the continent, so using abandoned ships like the last operation isn’t a possibility.”

“So the UFE would use the Deucalion? But that is so conspicuous.”

“Yes, too much so. There are abandoned military bases or simply half destroyed cities all over Earth that could be used for a short, secret, operation. Initially I had assumed that the UFE would take time, around months, to slowly arm and staff one of those near the Landing Castle without their movements being noticed. To try and make use of that in a short period without anyone noticing the movement of armaments and personnel would normally not be possible, in the layout.”

“Which is why you thought the Deucalion might be used as a distraction? Because while everyone looks at it, they could operate more freely?”

“Yes, but that is also flawed. Not everyone will focus that much on a simple route change, and not for long enough, unless they plan to have the Deucalion do more for attention. However, it’s been a week and so far there has been no news about it; which brings me to my other theory, which the map has confirmed.”

“Which is?”

“... The Deucalion will be used to transport people and tools to a chosen settlement. Whenever they land in a larger city, they’ll likely get people to secretly board along with equipment, then drop them off at strategic spots. Given the size of the Deucalion, and that the UFE can also supplement what it carries through some small ground operations, they can speed it up and have the bare minimum for training ready in weeks, and launch an attack in less time afterwards.”

“... You got all that from a map.” To her chagrin, Lemrina’s words don’t come at as flat as she hoped, and there’s a small tone of admiration.

If Inaho notices it, he takes no heed and simply shrugs. “Not necessarily just that map. I had previous knowledge I needed to confirm by viewing one.”

“So you knew which settlement they’d use for operations.”

“No, there are countless places and bases that could work. The relevant information isn’t that, but the traceability of the route chosen.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Not all of Earth is covered in connectivity. The war, the destruction, the weapons used all caused spots where signals and transmissions don’t work well or at all unless you are side by side. Even if the Deucalion did carry equipment and people, anyone tracing it would notice if it kept landing in a spot that should have nothing. However, if the Deucalion does the landing in a transmission blind spot, no one far away would be able to tell.”

“So you… knew where the blindspots were?”

“I had a general overview, as it was necessary to either avoid or use them when we were in the Deucalion, especially trying to reach the Russian base. The map was necessary to confirm my memory: the route they are taking does pass through blindspots, two of which are right over abandoned bases.”

“I believe that’s what must be happening.”

“Don’t be too sure just yet. But we might know soon enough, maybe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell Dr. Yagarai I plan to stay another week around here after my treatment is done. If the UFE, however, tells me to go back home when it’s done, or even recalls me before I am done—”

Lemrina sucks in her breath. “They’ll want you to return to prepare to bring in Slaine.”

“Precisely. Obviously they could take longer and take Slaine by other means, but the longer the transport, the more danger of Slaine being seen or escaping there is, which they will never risk. In twenty six days the Deucalion will be on the route point nearest to Slaine’s location, so that is when they’ll want him to board it.”

“Let’s think of something we can do with the information in the meanwhile,” Lemrina says, though what she really means is that she’s hoping Kaizuka can come up with a plan.

“I don’t know if there is anything to be done.”

“There must be!”

*

But when they arrive back, Dr. Yagarai is waiting for them, looking both grave and apologetic.

“Inaho… I truly am sorry but… your presence was requested back in your home. Your… work has been piling up, it seems.”

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

Notes:

-A sentence was changed in the last chapter in the exchange between Inaho and Yagarai. I forgot that it was clear the UFE knew Inaho could use aldnoah, and a comment thankfully reminded me. The sentence was changed not long after I posted it, so if you've read last chapter recently, you probably got the corrected setence.

-I forgot to add this to ch39 but, after the 2year wait between ch37 and 38 I never imagined I'd get so many comments. I'm really thankful for everyone who comes back to read despite the ridiculous update frequency and then comment too!

-On how aldnoah works: I talked it over with some people. Many thanks to the Discord group chat for giving me the supposed poem that explain how it works. That said, the whole “oh it works with love/loyalty” thing is… bullshit to me. For many reasons. I wanted to explain them here but… let’s see if the characters don't eventually explain in the fic. If they don't, i'll make a future note explaining the reasoning behind what Ive chosen. because I have given up and decided I need to pick what I want because canon is so filled with plotholes over this that there is no valid answer there.

-My beta has begged me to go back and beta the early chapters (which had no beta). After even commenters started offering to beta those chapters, I came to the conclusion they were really that in need of work, so my beta is not only betaing the new chapter, but has now gone back to do former chapters too. Thank my poor beta. As of this moment, chapters 01 has been redone and reuploaded to AO3 a bit after this new chapter. I need to figure out if reuploading old chapters will make AO3 act like I’m uploading new content. I dont want to reupload and accidently have readers think theres new chapters, so I might only reupload along with new content, depending.

Regardless, here are the changes being made, so you guys dont fret: NO changes to story. No matter how cheesy or clunky i feel dialogue or plot progression used to be, any redoing of written plot will not be done, and in the rare case that I realize I should redo it, I will absolutely warn people in current chapter notes. But i feel like that cheapens the experience and i dont recall a need for that, so assume NO plot content is being altered. Changes are: fixing grammar and punctuation mistakes. Also removing the usage of “blond” “brunet” descriptors, as I’ve since realized using those arent that good and its better to just work harder on sentences to use names without too much repetition. Clunky or cheesy sentences will stay as they were (though my beta is still also fixing those in the current chapters).

-Deucalion is Prometheus son.

[turbulentt]

Devilish

genre: smut | san!demon × fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

warnings: explicit content, unprotected sx, biting, marking, demon au

summary: you’ve been feeling quite lonely since you left for college, so your friend recommends you something seemingly foolish but that ends up being a night of great desire.

You’ve been living alone for a while now. Independence felt good somehow, even though you sometimes missed having the noisiness of a full house. Basically being alone definitely had it’s perks, however being held tightly while watching a movie was much better.

“Just try it.” your friend said, “Maybe that way you’ll stop complaining.”

“I’m not summoning a demon, Nancy.” you deny again “It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”

There are limits to your loneliness, you can complain as much as you want but appeal to forces of the beyond, that you don’t even believe in, is not your cup of tea. “However you want, Mrs. I’m Fine All By Myself. I have to go now.” Nancy states, picking up her jacket.

“Already?” you pout. “See what I’m saying? Summon that demon, y/n.” she shakes her head in disapproval. You just opened the door for her and threw her a deadly look “Get out.”

After Nancy leaves you just decide to fall onto the couch and grab your laptop to keep yourself entertained. Maybe it’s due to the fact that it is a Saturday and you’re not even hanging out, drinking your eyes off, but your neediness seemed higher than the usual.

You open the chat groups with your friends, thinking perhaps that they’ll be down to go get some drinks later, but then you find yourself face to face with that cursed link. ‘How to summon any kind of demon.’ sounds like the dullest title to ever exist. Still, just out of curiosity and only with such intention, you clicked it.

Surely you were welcomed by a rather sketchy website. A plain background, full of pentagrams and other devilish types of images. The post you were currently reading had quite a long description and you just weren’t in the mood to read it all. Attentively you read the instructions and the ‘beware’ section. If you believed all of that foolishness you’d be scared since the side effects of summoning a demon seemed painful.

There you decided you’d try out. You had nothing to lose anyway. Searching through all kinds of demons or demonic creatures, one of them caught your eye. 'Companion Demon’ is its name and it is one of the easiest ones to summon. How delightful! Just what you needed.

Rushing to your room with the laptop in your arms you took some objects you needed and sat by the bed. You followed the instructions meticulously because even if not believing in all of that caution was necessary. After placing the five candles, lighting them on, and turning your room into a creepy Stephen King’s book scenario you sat in the middle of the candle pentagram. Thus you just take a quick look at the words you had to say and closed the notebook, that way no other light, besides the candle lights, would intervene with the ambiance.

As you utter the words with closed eyes you felt your entire body shiver, as if you had entered a pool full of ice. The sensation kept you frozen for a few minutes and you started to despair as you couldn’t move even a finger.

Roughly your eyes burst open and you breathe out helpless. That’s when you notice that all the candles weren’t lit anymore and the room was complete darkness. The cold sensation came back as you carefully searched for the light switch.

“Okay…” you murmur to yourself when finally lightning up the place. “Did you call, beautiful?” a sharp voice travels through the room and you scream at the intruder. “Who are you? How did you get in?” you said, fear pumping in your veins, as you looked to the boy before you.

“Now, you were the one to call me here.” he smiles widely while approaching you, taking every step like a victory. “Are you? No… That’s not real.” you back away, not believing the possible idea of that perfectly looking normal boy being a demon.

“It is real. I’m your Companion Demon, beautiful.” he bowed and took your hand, kissing it gently. “I don’t believe it.” you deny once again, but knowing deep down that all of that fear you were feeling was more than real. “Shall I show you my true form?” he says with a grin. “Show me then, demon.”

He shrugs taking a few steps back. It took a matter of seconds to happen, like a flash from a camera, his visceral and demonic face was shown and you couldn’t take the image off of your head. “Do you believe me now?” he tilts his head, acting like an innocent infant. You just nod, yet in shock.

“We are going to have so much fun.”

And indeed you had. In 'you’ there’s only him included. You spent the first week looking like a lunatic, pushing I’m off of you in public, what, for other people, looked like someone fighting air. But you just couldn’t help it. San, what you later learned to be his name, is the clingy type, not so much fitted for a demon. He always clings onto you whenever he can. Hugs you while you are trying to pay attention in class. Holds onto your arm as you’re cooking. You couldn’t take it anymore.

While trying to finish some work you noticed San wasn’t around. “That’s new.” you thought. And so you quickly got everything done. Zero distractions and now free from tedious work. As you were closing off the Wikipedia tabs and opening the Netflix one, you felt a heavy weight on top of you. “We’re watching a movie?” San sings happily. “I thought you had left me alone. For fuck’s sake.”

“I saw you were working and didn’t feel like barging in, but now that you’re free I want to be with you.” he hugs your back “Besides, you know I can never leave, right?”

“Never?” your voice shakes. Would you have to carry him with you for the rest of your life? “Well, not never, when your needs of companionship are fulfilled I’ll be sent back. But I don’t see that happening any time soon,” he whispers in a sarcastic tone. “Asshole.” you push him away.

Even if you were still annoyed you allowed him to sit beside you and enjoy the movie. He’d do a funny comment here and there, but he didn’t really seem like the type who liked talking while watching something. The only things distracting you were his hands. How curious they are, always roaming through the curves of your body. And of course, how tightly he hugged you.

“Stop, San. You’re being too clingy.” you push him away, for the hundred times today. He just pouts and crosses his arms, turning his attention to the computer screen again.

Some more minutes in and the movie got extremely interesting, but San didn’t seem to be paying much attention once again. Instead, without you even noticing, his dirty hands slid inside your shorts. “San-” you gasped in surprise. “Keep watching the movie, beautiful,” he whispered seductively while sliding his fingers through your covered slit.

He was having fun now, more than he thought he ever would. You weren’t much different, rejecting him all this time got tiring, now wasn’t one of those times. And he worked you up so well, with his warm skilled hand. “Fuck,” you groan as he finally enters your underwear and plays slowly with your clit. You’re able to feel the heat of hell rushing through his fingers.

“Does it feel good?” he murmurs in between kisses he slowly placed on your neck. You can’t find the strengths to speak, just a small whimper exits your mouth. You feel his victorious smile grow bigger against your skin.

It feels devilish in levels you can’t even understand, but if this is the devil’s work you don’t want anything else.

His hand quickly shifts away from you and you sigh at the sudden loneliness you felt. San, on the other hand, was only getting started. Smiling playfully he caresses your cheek, making you face him. “Come sit at the devil’s throne.” he taps his lap.

You seem reluctant, what are these thoughts invading his mind? Can you both do what you are about to? “Come on, beautiful. You think too much.” he roughly pushes you to him. “San, can we-”

“Do you want to?” he grins. Bloody demon, always with the right question that makes you shiver “So…? The devil got your tongue?”

“Asshole.” you slightly hit his shoulder “Maybe”.

“Maybe is not an answer.” he scoffs, laying back on the frame of the bed “I’m waiting.”

You push your hair back, clearly frustrated “Yes. I want to have sex with you. Happy?”

He laughs loudly, scaring you for a moment, but his expression changes to a lustful one, in only a matter of seconds. “You should be the happy one because I’m giving you the best night of your life, beautiful.” he grabs your thighs and a suttle sting hits you. “Ow.” you whimper. “My claws. I want to mark you. Entirely.” he runs his sharp claws through your naked leg and you let out a low moan “Feels good right?”

You don’t even need to answer, his questions are statements and he knows you are loving the way his hands touch you all over. “Let’s stop wasting time. Shall we, beautiful?” he smirks, riding you from your clothes.

The room was already hot enough, just by his presence, but the way it almost caught fire when San ran his eyes through your naked body was breathtaking. “Hell.” he slid the back of his hand from your chest to your lower stomach “You’re not even a demon, but I can be yours just like this.”

You chuckle, he did sound like a romantic now and then. You lean in, having your lips meeting his’ and kissing him harshly, telling him to shut up and just make a move.

He receives the message rapidly and pulls you closer to him, allowing you to feel his unclothed erection. You wondered how he made his clothes disappear without you noticing, but it didn’t really matter at the moment. Neither did you felt when we started pushing into you eagerly. “S-San…” you whined. “Relax. I won’t hurt you.” he cupped your cheek, slowly moving the hair out of your face.

Roughly he began thrusting into you. And he was being truthful, all you could feel was an overwhelming sensation. As if you were experiencing the most pleasure ever. You couldn’t describe how hot his length felt inside of you. At that point, you could only count the stars you were seeing.

To match his movements you begin moving your hips at a steady pace, searching for more and more contact. His nails dig into your skin and you scream, not due to the pain, rather to the pleasure it provides you. “Let me bite you.” he groans kissing the skin of your neck. You nod, not so certain about what he had in mind, but you trust him enough at this point.

Placing some gentle licks and wet kisses San quickens his pace “Prepare to cum, beautiful.”

You didn’t have time to question, his thrusts became rougher and desperate when he finally bit you. It felt like you’ve visited hell and came back up, in the best way possible. His fangs pierced through your skin and once again you screamed in pleasure. You came at that exact moment and so did he, warmly and perfectly inside of you.

He backed away from you, sliding out of your core softly, just so you both could be face to face. His breath was as messy as yours and you only now noticed his horns had come out. You looked at them mesmerized. “Do you want to touch them?” he asked trying to steady his pace. “Can I?” he didn’t answer, just took your hand placed it on one of his horns.

“They are beautiful.” you smile as you run your hands through it feeling its’ smooth but burning texture.

“So are you.”

[yanderelovebites]

Poly! Yandere Headcanons: TodoDeku

-  Izuku is Clingy and Delusional while Shōto is Possessive and Obsessive. The way these two would combine would mirror two parents protecting their baby. With Izuku being clingy and delusional, he will think he knows what's best for you and a good chunk of it is also listening to Shōto. Don't get me wrong, don't think you're the only one dealing with his BS but Shōto is obsessive and possessive so he can calm Izuku down. You don't have that luxury. Shōto will also think he knows what is best for you while also spoiling you  and Izuku, which will only encourage Izuku's delusions.

- For starters, the Dom is obviously Shōto. It doesn't take much for him to get either of you to submit–especially in bed. The dual, the one who is okay either way, is Izuku. He doesn't mind being submissive to Shōto but he does want to dominate you. You are the sub in this. You just had to catch their attention, huh? Don't worry, it's not all your fault and they aren't cruel to you. (Izuku would never forgive himself if he was.)

- This relationship occurred originally without you. The two accidentally learned that the other had done some less than pleasant things for the other and realized the feelings were mutual. To be fair, the signs were always there but Yanderes be paranoid. Then they met you. You were more than likely a transfer student or perhaps you were related to someone on staff. Either way, they both loved your kindness but they always questioned your homelife. Your non-hero parent had been instilling odd and sexist things into your head for years and once those two found out... that was it. They knew they both had a crush, after talking about it cause again paranoia, and they knew you had to belong to them. You had to want them!

- Together, their behaviors really balance out. When it comes down to it, you can see how Shōto's type and Izuku's type are mirrored, Shōto's appearing more masculine than Izuku's. You don't really catch it for a long time. Izuku will like hugging you and showing PDA which will lead to Shōto joining to remind people who you and Izuku belong to. You see it as normal since people won't always assume you're in a poly relationship. You don't look it. When you start seeing it is when it gets suffocating like how descriptive Shōto is about you and Izuku that it's just plain creepy, when Izuku says things you're not ready for and he claims you are–claims Shōto is ready for, and worst of all is how you realized that they were a bit on the down end, there was a shrine dedicated to the three of you in Shōto and Izuku's home. Now that's hella creepy.

- Shōto will use his Ice, the pictures, and some secrets against reader while Izuku is iffy. Honestly, if anything, he'll ignore what ever was causing it and use his own force against you...personally, I wouldn't trying fighting at that point cause he's A ONE FOR ALL USER. There's a chance he'll accidentally break your bones, ya know?

- Izuku will definitely argue about the blackmail. He isn't big on manipulation tactics and is okay with the ice simply because he uses his own strength. Why should he do it and tell Shōto not to? That didn't make sense.

- You were kidnapped later on. It was a simple day, school was ending. Afterwards you went out for ice cream and didn't notice the sketchy man who was in the back who prepared it. Bribed. You got sleepy and fell unconscious from eating the delicious treat. When you woke, you were in a room that had a huge bed and there were scented candles all around. The sheets were silky and you were in a cute dress/adorable suit. And a collar.

- You cannot escape these two. One is always home at all times and if it's Shōto there's no way in actual hell you can. With Izuku, there would've been a chance if it weren't for the size of the house. They won't react kindly to your...attempt..

- Izuku would attempt punishment, but fails. If Shōto is home he will say no to whatever Izuku was going to do immediately and claim 'you need more loving' when he knows you already feel suffocated. That is reserved for behavior but during escape attempts, Shōto and Izuku will both be home and Shōto will coax Izuku into punishing you sexually–taking pictures. Oh, don't think he's pleasuring you. Neither of them will do that, no, they're taking pictures of you nude. What will happen if it goes out? (Again Izuku is huffy about this)

- usually Aftercare for behavioral punishments is letting be alone for an hour–you appreciate that. If it's an escape attempt kind of punishment, it usually starts with Izuku wrapping you up in a warm cozy blanket, Shōto getting you some comfy–and very covering–clothes. If you're crying, they'll play with your hair or gently rub your shoulders and back. They'll say you were a good boy/girl in soft tones and cuddle for hours on end. SEXY TIMES aftercare is typically cuddles, lit candles, reassurances depending on if you did any kinky kinky stuff. Usually it's Shōto to you and Izuku and you two have reassure him you're fine and that Izuku is fine and that you both still feel safe. Also may include some soft feel show whether it be a comedy or cartoons, it helps. You may also talk about making things more intense, maybe asking not to do certain things, and trying one thing extra next time. Shōto typically falls asleep first and you and Izuku may giggle at how cute his sleeping face is. Eventually you fall asleep then Izuku. Yep aftercare is nice.

- Shōto doesn't hesitate but Izuku will avoid killing if he can. Izuku will scold Shōto here and there depending who it was. Normally they get over it quick, it was already done.

- If Izuku snapped, he would potentially hurt both you and Shōto, cry about it, but would definitely get extra paranoid. At some point you would be too scared to speak to him and Shōto will try to fix it. This will end in Shōto keeping Izuku in the basement for awhile until he calms down. If Shōto is the one to snap, you wouldn't get hurt because he'd be extra. Izuku and you would be confined into a room and you would freak cause you'd smell blood and his fire. Izuku would try comforting you. He would hold you and try to calm you. If both of them snap, you will not exactly be safe. The best advice is for you to cooperate and relax. If it gets too much, don't be afraid to cry, it would be better to cry than to lash out. Usually this snap won't last long because after awhile, Shōto will see Izuku's behavior long enough that it snaps him out of his own insanity and he will proceed to do what he does to calm him down. There will be some spoiling but this will never leave your mind...ever.

- With Izuku, he isn't the most sexual. This is mostly due to his moral compass. Shōto is, but he's a traditional boy in this regard and wants to wait until all three of you are married.

- Neither will force themselves on you if you're not all married. If you are married, Izuku still won't because he doesn't want to have that on his conscience but if it's Shōto? He won't care, you're married now. Of course, this is punishment and if Izuku denies it guess who is getting punishment with you? Yep, scary...

- The kinks typically used are overstimulation, BDSM, roleplay, petplay, occasionally degradation, and creampies.

- They like giving their affection through hugs, kisses, gifts and on your B-Day they make everything about you. (Especially in bed.)

- Once you accept the two, find life is incredibly easy. You stay home and enjoy life. They don't mind you doing at home jobs like writing or such. It feels normal...except occasionally one them comes home with some blood. You may discuss kids, it will happen. If you're able to be impregnated then you'll be having one baby first. Honestly, it's a coin toss. If you're male, you all go and adopt at most three children. You are the stay at home. You are literally just spoiled and you will spoil your children. Izuku and Shōto don't stop you because they're also spoiling them. Shōto isn't fond of the idea of any of them wanting to be a hero but doesn't say it out loud to them. Izuku encourages 'a job that makes you happy' and you say "No job exists that has no competition, if you want a job when you're older, prepare to be the best you in that job. Not number one but the best you you can be."

Also, lots and lots of vacations. Usually you pick the spot.

[mysaldate]

if you're up for it, could you please write Kamanue headcanons? general or past life, fluff or angst or comfort, i don't really mind, whatever strikes your fancy most~

Ok so writing this for the second time since Tumblr decided it would be oh-so-funny to delete the whole thing smh…

That’s a broad scale so I’ll try to fit in as much as I can but I can’t promise much since we didn’t exactly see much of him. I’ll try to overanalyse whatever we DID get tho!

General Kamanue headcanons

As I already said in the previous request (the personality one), he hasn’t been among the Lower Moons for long when Muzan decided to dismantle them. He might not even be Kyogai’s direct successor based on how quickly Muzan claims they’re usually killed off and replaced. And also like I already mentioned, he’s not exactly too keen on changes so such a huge one probably left him confused as to why and how it happened.

He strikes me as a bit less conflict-loving than some other demons. If he crossed onto another demon’s territory, he’d probably first try to intimidate them with his rank before even considering fighting them. And all of that happens only if the other demon finds him of their own initiative, he won’t go looking for them on his own.

If he was given the chance to get comfortable in his new position, I feel like he might try really hard to fulfill Muzan’s expectations. He may not agree with everything Muzan says and find some of his demands ridiculously difficult but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try to fulfill them anyway. Note that he complains that it’s easy for Muzan to want them not to be scared but doesn’t think anything about it being impossible or completely beyond their reach. He’s just not strong enough for it yet but he will be one day (or not).

Connected with the previous headcanon, if he was given the chance to meet with Douma, and if Douma shared the knowledge of girls being more nutritious with him, they would probably start making up most of his diet. After all, they have many more advantages than just that – they taste better, they have softer flesh and they usually tend to have less physical strength than guys so they put up less of a fight.

He carries some amount of respect to those who have been demons for longer than him. That is not to say he won’t talk back if he can get away with it but in general, he’s more likely to watch his mouth at least a little when around older demons, regardless of whether or not are they more powerful than him.

Naturally, Muzan terrifies him. But he also looks up to him a lot and has deep respect to him. Again, not only because of his power but also his years of wisdom. Of course though, the impressive extend of Muzan’s demonic abilities amazes him to no end as well. If only there wasn’t the constant death threat whenever you get near him…

He also isn’t the type to pursue or give chase to the Demon Slayer Corps’ members who choose to flee rather than to fight him. So long as they leave him alone, he’s pretty cool with them walking around as they please as well. It’s really kind of a mystery why Muzan picked him for the position, even to him.

A fluff (or crack?) headcanon I have for him is that he once met Murata and they almost fought. And by that I mean, they got into position while each of them tried to find their way out at the same time. Murata was already tired from his last mission, Kamanue was feshly appointed Lower Moon, still kind of shaken after having his eyeball engraved and wanted nothing more than to rest up a bit as well. They ended up sitting down together and complaining about their scary superiors and then the dawn broke them off. Neither of them ever spoke of it again of course.

Kamanue backstory headcanons

Kamanue was born into a middle class family, though on the poorer side still. My main basis for this claim is the fact that, aside from Rui, he is the only one of the Lower Moons who walks barefoot. And a lot of each demon’s backstory can usually be seen in their appearance (such as Douma’s cult clothing, Akaza’s open clothes revealing his muscles and tattooes, Kokushibo’s kimono and sword etc.).

He had a lot of siblings and age-wise was somewhere in the middle. Due to this, he often felt overlooked or ignored. His eldest brother/sister was the one their parents relied on and his younger siblings always got more attention (or was it just his feeling that they did?) but his relationship with his family was overall normal.

This is where his snarky side comes from. It was sort of a coping mechanism for him, being mildly rude to his siblings to make up for the attention he felt he wasn’t getting. He didn’t mean it in a bad way though and they knew it so nobody minded it too much. He sometimes got a little loose-lipped in front of people outside of his family though which got him the reputation of a rude child.

Something happened. Maybe a heavy rain washed away their crops, maybe his father and older brother/s had to go fight for the landlord, maybe a wild animal killed his father or ate their food. Either way, Kamanue was either forced to or decided to go look for a job to help his family at least a little.

Looking at his design again and googling a bit (that’s why Tumblr crashed on me the first time), his outfit carries certain amount of similarity to 19th/early 20th century nurse outfits (specifically the white button-up, belt and shape of his pants) and it’s also just a little similar to Yushiro’s so I believe he became the servant/assistant of a local doctor.

Naturally, he needed to tone his snarkiness down in there, both towards his employer and the customers. I would imagine he wasn’t treated too fairly, seeing as he came from a rather poor family. But since he couldn’t say anything, he let the bitterness stay inside of him.

It was after one of his siblings died because the doctor refused to treat since they didn’t have enough money that Kamanue finally exploded. All the pent-up anger was finally let loose and he ended up killing the doctor. That’s where Muzan comes in, picking him up and turning him into a demon.

His haori is stitched together from two pieces. The main part, white, is from his job there. The yellow sleeves and pockets are makeshift from the haori of his dead sibling (y’know, the common theme with KNY).

I originally planned to expand more on his life as a demon before he became one of the Moons but I realized I didn’t really have anything much to say there so hope this will be enough!

[catgirlxox]

The Significance of Ben’s Characterization in Season 3 of Alien Force Onwards

There has been quite a bit of controversy surrounding Ben’s characterization in season 3 of Alien Force onward. Ben is criticized for downgrading as a character, and just generally being written much worse than he was in the previous two seasons. Although there is definitely a shift in the way his character is presented, I would like to go over the why - aside from the writers’ decision to make him “more like his ten year old self”, which seems to be what the majority conclude his later characterization to. My point is not to defend everything the writers decide to do with his character, I only want to defend my favourite character by trying to understand where Ben himself would have been coming from since these events are still canon and true to his story. 

This “new attitude” begins to be apparent in the episode “Vengeance of Vilgax.”  I would argue this is the beginning of Ben’s “hero” identity really becoming a permanent aspect of his immediate life since he has obviously gained quite a large amount of notoriety from Alien Force’s seasons 1-2 concluding with establishing peace between the Highbreed and the rest of the Universe in “War of the Worlds.”  

I mean, when did he even get all of this?!

Being “Ben 10″ the “superhero” has become kind of a big deal at this point in his life. Not that he was unheard of before, but, like I said, this “title” is now much more permanent since he has proved that he is capable enough to stop, not only a war, but a xenocidal mass murder of every species in the Universe along with the Highbreed. And that this was ultimately done without resorting to complete violence, which is why I would say it is more important that peace was established between races rather than “a war was stopped.” 

Just to give Ben the credit he deserves, everyone depended on him to come up with a solution. To put this into perspective, all the pressure is on a fifteen year old to think of a way to stop an alien invasion which intends to commit alien genocide. 

Even Azmuth, who is very intelligent and probably has an even better understanding of what the Omnitrix can do than Ben, ended up saying “all is lost, they are too powerful to fight.” 

Ben realized that fighting the Highbreed to the death was not a solution because it promotes death on one side of the battle. It was more important to establish peace because that way, nobody “loses.” Everyone can continue to live - a hero’s job is to save lives. 

Furthermore, as we were shown throughout Seasons 1-2, this kind of work starts to become increasingly prevalent in his life. In other words, it starts to become his whole world. And as you might guess, that takes up a lot of his time. I'd say the amount of time he spends fighting aliens only increases the longer he does it. 

Being a “superhero” is a 24/7 job. There is no “schedule.” 

So even if he values the work he does and likes his job, doesn't that mean he has less time for himself?

You might say that this kind of rationalization is selfish since Ben chose to do this work out of selflessness. But, does choosing to do work which involves putting your own life on the line mean one must also sacrifice their own individual private identity? 

Does he automatically becomes only a an “alien superhero” and no longer has the right to be a human? 

In “Vengeance of Vilgax”, Ben is late for a mission with Gwen and Kevin because he was immersed in his free time, watching TV and being awarded another metal. 

On a separate note, Gwen and Kevin had an unusually hard time taking down Ssserpent. They should be powerful enough to do that in less than the hour they claimed to be fighting him for before Ben finally showed up. That only proves that Ben is the reason they win half the time - he really is the most powerful. This could have been because they were inexperienced with Ssseprent, but even so Ssserpent shouldn't be that hard to defeat because they absolutely have more than enough experience fighting much more dangerous offenders. Ben didn't even put that much effort into stopping him so that probably aggravated them even more. 

This is where his "arrogant" attitude comes in. Although I can see how his attitude would be taken as arrogant, I believe the bigger issue moving forward is a lack of caution when Ben is confident in his abilities. Which, in the given circumstances, he has the logical right to have. Anybody who has access to as much power as Ben does would realize how capable they are and in turn develop a level of confidence. The problem with this is that fact that it might lead them to either underestimating their opponent or overestimating their chances of being successful. Realizing one’s own strength can be both a blessing and a curse. 

Later in the same episode, Kevin brings up the idea to hack the Omnitrix, and because neither Ben nor Kevin seem to have much caution going into this operation, it backfires on them. Hacking the Omnitrix was a bad idea with even worse consequences. But, this was not just done out of stupidity. They were about to go up against Vilgax - who they haven’t seen since “Secret of the Omnitrix” and is now allegedly much more powerful. Keep in mind, Vilgax probably showed up again due to word of Ben 10′s recent success spreading across the Galaxy. Vilgax prepared himself to fight Ben 10 and end him.

They knew that they would need the best the Omnitrix could offer to take him on successfully. They had a justified reason, but it was absolutely still a bad idea. 

I get the feeling that many of us seem to think Ben has become a whole new character, possibly a “worse” character than he was in the first two seasons of Alien Force. “Vengeance of Vilgax” exists to set up a character flaw to demonstrate that Ben is human, and humans are not generally overpowered perfect Gods. Being a human means being fallible. But being a fallible human does not mean that one is no longer capable of being inspiring or successful. It does not make you a failure or useless. 

It must be even more damaging to think that, while part of you is strong, the “real” you underneath the superpowers is not as “great.” Would you not try to match that strength on both sides of your identity? 

Because Ben is written as a character who becomes a superhero by choice rather than being born super powered, there is a balance to be established between being the ideal version of himself that the Universe expects and not losing his true self in the process of fulfilling this “destiny.” 

Just because this flaw is being written into his character, it does not mean all his previous traits are erased. Something that is still constant is Ben’s motivation to do the right thing. Every time there is a scene where Ben interacts with Max, his tone of voice is more serious and he pays close attention to Max. This comes from his human connection to his Grandpa and all that he has learned from him. This is his vulnerable, human side. 

Max: It’s almost showtime, Ben, and I’ve been thinking. Vilgax is Plumber business. Good as you are, you’re still just a kid. I’ll take him on.

Ben: This is my fight, grandpa. Vilgax challenged me, and I’m the one with the Omnitrix. At least most of it.

Max: You’ve got less than an hour, Ben.

Ben: I’ll be there. And I’ll win. Love you, grandpa.

He jokes around, but he is not insensitive. 

Ben: “Hey, Kevin, why don’t you change back to normal? You've been ugly for like 40 miles.”

Kevin: “I can’t.”

Ben: “What?”

Kevin: “I can’t!”

Kevin: “Let me bring you up to speed, hero. Thanks to you, I can’t turn back. I’m a monster.”

Ben: “I’m sorry, Kevin. I didn’t know. I was just kidding around.”

That is because Ben has not just been reduced to “an arrogant jerk”, he is still the same person we have known the entirety of the series. And just like anybody would, he is reacting to the circumstances in which he finds himself in at this point in his life. People generally, in terms of personality, are not just one way their entire lives. Especially when the person we are talking about is a teenager who has been through much more than any other average teenager you may know. And on top of that, will continue to be faced with increasingly difficult situations as he gets more and more invested in the life of a superhero. 

If that is the case, how much would it help him to give in to every insecurity that might stand in his way? He has dedicated himself to being “Ben 10.” This responsibility only gets heavier as time goes on. Why else would Vilgax feel the need to acquire the powers of the greatest heroes of ten worlds in order to “prepare” to take on Ben again? Vilgax perceives Ben as a threat to his own strength. This is ironic because there are moments throughout the series where, even though his enemies think highly of him, he seems to believe he isn’t as great as they say. He needs to match the heroic greatness with his own personality, and that is where this shift in characterization comes from. It is entirely an emotional thing. 

The following are episodes which fall under Season 3 Ben’s supposed problematic Characterization: 

 “Simple”

This is even more proof of almost every species in the Universe having a very high expectation for “the great Ben 10.” He stopped one war, he could stop their war too, they seem to believe.The problem is that these aliens don’t seem to have any grasp on what it means to have so much responsibility. And when this is what is being asked of him, do you really expect Ben to not at least try?

“Vreedle, Vreedle / Don’t Fear the Repo”

The most important part of this episode in terms of Ben’s characterization was his dialogue in court. If just taken at face value, his words can be interpreted as very self-centered. But keep in mind at this point in time almost every being in the Universe who has heard of Ben Tennyson thinks very highly of him. 

In order to convince the court to take his side, he plays up his attitude to match this reputation. You’ll even notice the way he says it sounds “acted.” 

“Your honor, I am Ben Tennyson - The Ben Tennyson. Wielder of the Omnitrix, saviour of the Universe. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I need you to do me a little favor, Judgey. There’s been a little mix up here. Ship is part of my team now. That’s, the famous Ben Tennyson’s team. Say, ever seen an Omnitrix up close before, Judge?”

���Judge Domstol. Dom, may I call you Dom? These things can happen when you’re chosen to bear the awesome responsibility of the Omnitrix.”

“The court rules in favour of...Ben Tennyson. There is no reason the wielder of the Omnitrix should have to bother himself with petty matters such as this. I apologize for wasting your time, Mr. Tennyson.”

It seems that if they had just tried to explain the matter in the way Kevin was attempting to, Baz-El would have won because, legally, Ship was his physical property, not Julie’s. But because Ship helped out during the Highbreed war, that makes him a part of Ben 10′s team and therefore it would be in an injustice to a very important public figure such as a superhero if the property had been repossessed, as well as an injustice to the rest of Universe because Ben 10′s team works to promote galactic peace.

Aside from that, another part of Season 3 onwards was the argument that “Ben was a jerk to his girlfriend.” Here, you might come to believe so because this episode makes it seem as though Ben doesn't care about Ship being Julie’s “dog.” The reality of the matter is that Ship is not “a dog.” Julie sees him as a dog only because she doesn’t have as much experience with alien technology as Ben does so it makes sense for Ben to perceive Ship as the Galvanic Mechamorph that he is. He should have his guard up when it comes to alien technology. What selfish reason would Ben have to not want Julie to have Ship anyway? Would it be so far fetched to assume Ship could potentially harm Julie? 

“Ghost Town”

According to Gwen, what Ben did here was “really really stupid.” 

He threw himself into Ghostfreak so that the rest of Vilgaxia would no longer have to endure his slavery. Ben’s intention was not to hurt anyone, especially not Gwen or Kevin and while he was possessed by Ghostfreak. He probably had no idea what was happening around him anyway! He didn't just act oblivious because he “didn't care.” That’s not like Ben to do at all. 

“The Secret of Chromastone” 

This episode is a great example of what was started in “Vengeance of Vilgax.” Not only does he have much less time for himself, but something like having a cold doesn't mean his job ends. 

Even if Ben did stay home, Tetrax would probably still find him to get to Chromastone. Being the wielder of the Omnitrix is still relevant in times where he probably feels less than heroic, whether he likes it or not. 

“Above and Beyond”

This episode might not have worked so well if it had been done in a previous season because Ben’s characterization here is very specific. The first time Ben went up against Manny and Helen in the season one episode “Plumbers Helpers”, they actually seemed to overpower him.  

I would argue that since then Ben has built up this confidence, so it allows him to believably pretend to be “evil” because he realizes what he is potentially capable of. This episode shows us how unstoppable he would be if morals weren’t a factor and he didn’t hold back. 

Contrast this with how unsure he was in “Ben 10 Returns” about whether he would even be able to do it without Max. Well, here, he is doing all of this without Max. 

“The Final Battle”

“Azmuth help me! Please! Just so I can help them.” 

The final episode of Alien Force, where Ben is shown having a very significant internal conflict after being forced to hand over the Omnitrix to Vilgax. If you put this turn of events into perspective, realize just how much it must weigh on him. He has previously proved to be so capable of defeating Vilgax easily. The entire Universe put him up on a high pedestal this entire season. 

It probably made him feel useless, like he really didn’t deserve to be so praised for everything, that it was all because of the Omnitrix. 

Is it the tool he had that lead him to act like a hero, or his selfless ambition to use this opportunity to do good? 

After all, anybody can be armed with a weapon, but it is then up to that person to chose what they will do with it. And now that he has chosen to use it to help others, that is what he is expected to continue to do. 

I feel like he needed this arc to establish how having the entire Universe begin to depend on him can affect him for better and worse. This was the transition from being a vigilante superhero, to well known on a galactic level, to world famous in Ultimate Alien. Moving forwards through the series as he ages, I would say there is definitely an improvement in how much of a hero he believes he is, and how he goes about doing his work as he settles into the reality that he can no longer be “normal.” The whole entire Universe is in his hands and he is expected to live up to their expectations of him. 

That is enough to make anyone start acting “different.”  

As he comes to accept this moving forward, just by his actions you can see it is not always an “act” he puts on to be considered “a hero.” This is especially apparent in the Ultimate Kevin arc. He so very cautious about Kevin's rampage that he couldn't allow him to hurt anybody else. Which is what led him to consider that putting him down might have to be a possibility. During the Ultimate Aggregor arc in general, Ben is always shown to be attentive to the immediate problem at hand. He is not so focused on appearing to be “the great Ben Tennyson” or be what everyone expects him to be. Rather, what is more important is handling the situation in a productive way. Again, he is not insensitive to others’ opinions on his “flaws”, but if it is not immediately vital, then he does not make the situation all about him. 

Azmuth: “We find ourselves in a situation so dire, that perhaps I should risk giving Ben my new Omnitrix.” 

Ben: “New Omnitrix? Gimmie! I’ll kick Aggregor’s butt!

Azmuth: “No, it’s not completely ready and clearly neither are you.” 

Ben: “Not yet?” 

Azmuth: “At the rate you’re regressing likely not ever.” 

Ben: “I’ve wanted a chance to apologize to you for months. But right now I’ve gotta stop Aggregor. If you’re not here to help, we’ll catch up later.” 

Max: “Wait. Ben. Hear him out.” 

Azmuth: “Your lack of patience is foremost among your many weaknesses.” 

In the Ultimate Alien episode, “Map of Infinity”, Azmuth interprets this as a lack of patience and claims he is “regressing.” Even if this is a flaw, it stems from a place of good intention - the reason why he continues to do this job. 

Now, here’s a question to consider when criticizing someone. 

Is there anyone who never does anything stupid? 

And just because this person has done something that some might consider to be “stupid”, does that mean you should totally give up on them? Are they not capable of improving? 

I would argue that there are levels of “immaturity” and “stupid decisions”, depending on the harm they cause and intention behind the action. And, as I keep reiterating, a person learning a lesson does not guarantee that they will never make the same mistake again. That is just reality.

So is it not a little unfair to continuously go back to Ben’s past mistakes since he has grown from that and established so much more character development? Doing something bad and then recognizing that what you have done is wrong is character development in itself. There does not always have to be a lesson learned or punishment given, just the realization that nobody is always perfect.

This is especially important when everyone expects you to be perfect because you are a “legendary superhero.”  

This is something touched on in the Omniverse episode “Showdown.” Ben is reminded of the time he lost his favourite transformation, Feedback, which he blames himself for. This loss clearly emotionally weighs him down because he doesn't blame anyone other than himself and realizes the mistake he made.

In order to accept it and move on, he realizes he must forgive himself because continuing to beat himself up over it is not going to help him in any way. He’s already established what he decided to do in that situation as wrong, now the only thing he can do is try to be better in the future. 

Forgiveness and acceptance that you are not and never will be “perfect” is the only way to improve in the present moment. 

Going back to the fact that “Ben 10″ is so glorified throughout the Universe, I’d like everyone to realize that, just because Ben has matured since he was ten years old, does not mean he has “left behind” his flaws. His has not suddenly become someone to idolize. It is absolutely fine to look up to him as, I believe, there is something everyone can learn from him. But, even though he has the ability to become one, he is not, and does not try to be, a God. 

Maybe this is what influences Ben’s quite accepting perception regarding other people’s flaws, weaknesses, and past mistakes. Come to think of it, he doesn't really tend to pick on people’s specific flaws all that much. Definitely not as much as others tend to do towards him. He “gives people second chances." 

“You trust people. You give them second chances. And they live up to your expectations. Kevin was a sociopath when you were kids, but you trusted him anyway.” - Max (Ultimate Alien episode: “Absolute Power” part 1)

As the series progresses, this is still something that is constant in his characterization. Ben doesn't seem to focus on what people have done wrong because blaming others for their mistakes and guilting them does not help them improve in the immediate moment. 

In the Omniverse episode “Hot Stretch” , Ester is responsible for what could have potentially been a disaster. 

The only thing is that she allegedly didn't know the full extent of what her petty crime would lead to. But does Ben see a point in guilting her for it when there are lives in danger as they speak?

 "We're past the blame stage."

This where I would like to insert some lyrics which provide a much more vulnerable view of the reality of such an idolized, legendary superhero who is still, and always will be, a fallible human underneath it all. 

“I'm more than a bird, I'm more than a plane

I'm more than some pretty face beside a train And it's not easy to be me

Wish that I could cry Fall upon my knees Find a way to lie About a home I'll never see

It may sound absurd, but don't be naive Even heroes have the right to bleed I may be disturbed, but won't you concede Even heroes have the right to dream And it's not easy to be me”

“Men weren't meant to ride With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet Digging for kryptonite on this one way street Only a man in a funny red sheet Looking for special things inside of me”

- “Superman” by Five for Fighting

Alien Force’s Season 3 onwards showed Ben finding how he can “be the hero” rather than just “acting” like how a hero should according to others not in his place.

It is not as easy as one might think to just be given abilities and always do that is expected of you to do with them. There will be times when you will doubt yourself, there will be times when others will underestimate you and it will affect the way you see yourself. Becoming one’s best self is a process of fall down and get up again, trail and error. That is part of being human. The part of Ben that seems to always be left out when talking about “Ben 10.” 

No Watch Ben seemed to parallel Prime Ben in “Ben 10 Returns” because of what he thought he was “missing” - not only the Omnitrix, but the authentic, confident, selfless, self-assured heroicness that is something he developed over the course of the series. 

The other alternate Bens also have their own watches along with level of confident attitude, but they were not heroes. They became their own downfall because they got so submersed into the act of being “all powerful” that they let it consume them. 

“It’s just a gadget. Be the hero!” - Prime Ben’s “dying words” (Omniverse, “And Then There Were None”) 

To conclude, I feel like the title "hero" ends up becoming somewhat restricting when it comes to this. It's like it takes up the entirety of his character, and people forget that you can't have "Ben 10" without "Ben." Ben, the human, is the one who is affected by all this underneath all the superpowers. He becomes such a great hero and fights for peace, but does he ever really get to experience peace himself?

There is quite a bit that Ben can’t be any more. Making a mistake on any level will be condemned by everyone if it falls out of the parameters that define being a “hero.” 

So how much time in the life of a hero is there to doubt oneself when everyone is depending on you to get the job done?

Not much when it’s always “hero time.”

[juleswolverton-hyde]

A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning | 02

Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst, Stepbrother AU

Pairing: Stepbrother!Namjoon x English student!Reader

Warning: A jealous Namjoon, possessive behaviour, mild swearing

Summary: Love comes in many shapes, but does not always have a prosperous fate. However, whereas parents might have found it, all the children can do is live in kalopsia.

Forbidden yet denying the mourning of the path chosen for them by Fate.

Previous part / Masterlist / Next part

Emotions have an unconscious way of influencing the environment, making a person emit an aura that makes others aware of their presence. Even when not really consciously aware, it happens and sometimes it is comforting - like friends joining you in the morning for the lecture and complaining about the early hour despite it already being almost noon - yet at other times it is all but that.

And in this case, the latter certainly applies as the suppressed rage hardly goes unnoticed and makes every breath the lungs held in anticipation of perhaps escaping the wolf be pushed out in an instant of awed fear. A type of horror which is nullified by the charm which earlier enchanted the mind during the reading of the messages containing a hidden meaning of silent possession, making the heart skip a beat with neither distress nor love. Although, perchance, it is filled with affection because it is secretly relieved and grown perverse by the adoration shaped by daydreams that have grown corrupt since another particular sensual incident. Namely, the first time seeing Namjoon shirtless and not too quietly busying hands with lust-filled phantom play through the crack in the door after coming home earlier than expected since, apparently, there was no need for extra hands on the work floor.

A specification of the change lies perhaps in the detail which was not as heart-wrenching and cruelly teaching as it should have been. It added idiotic rosy fuel to the despicable fires the fool within keeps igniting regardless of Sense trying to bind them down and take the blindfold of Chance off so that the damage which has been done and is about to be expanded could be seen.

A name.

Tethering with the giant on the edge and the culprit of the fall.

Mine.

Breath ceased entirely at that moment, the spine quickly pressed against the wall of the corridor so as to evade any accidental eye contact that would ruin everything with the betrayal of presence. Nevertheless, the speed of the swift retreat was not high enough and gazes did lock, but one turned away in horror and fled up the rickety cedar stairs.

Ran away from the half-dazed wolf who likely would have wanted to explain himself had the silly girl not known without needing evidence it was a mere slip of the tongue, devoid of meaning.

Only caused by the accidental notice of something private.

Nothing.

I still mean nothing.

The power of the amount of helplessness felt by both parties during that calamity mixed with the potion of guilt and self-loathing for still entertaining the thoughts thereafter of being taken against that same futilely protecting wall by him, comes close yet not entirely to the menace as Joon approaches and forcefully grabs the wrist hanging unresisting by the side. The attached body is pulled flush against the dark trench coat like a ragdoll, beckoned back to the realm of secure sharp cologne, while espresso eyes stare Changkyun down, likely calculating how to end the lad.

Withal, that shall not happen before anything is said about this new addition to the rapidly growing list of strange behaviours as Wit awakens and kills the lucid imaginations. This is seriously wrong and needs to be solved, so Judgement cannot be made blind by Fancy. ‘Joon, what the hell are you doing?’

‘I told you we’d be going out for lunch.’ As to emphasize who is meant by the plural personal pronoun, the hand that had folded perfectly over the wrist now does the same at the hip in a closer hold. Briefly, an odd spark within remarks upon the snug fit, the harmony of complementary shapes, edging Sense in the sinful direction once more for a mere split second before it turns around again. ‘I’m here to pick you up.’

None of the surrounding speechless amiable lifelines dares to speak up, all of them engrossed in the wordless war currently being waged by a poet gone haywire and a boy who, judging from the admittance of wrong interpretation given in the short glance from the apparent adversary to the hapless koala at the side of the battlefield, finds the situation curious but also begins to show a new sort of concern floating up from deep within.

Especially at seeing the I-told-you-he-is-weird look that manages to break through the spell of the physical contact, undaunted by the sharp punishing sideways scowl emphasizing the action has not gone by unnoticed.

‘Dude, calm down. I think Y/N is more than capable of making a choice of her own. Besides, she already has an appointment for a cup of coffee.’ Either Changkyun is braver than Sir Gawain in the fight against The Green Knight or more foolish than all the rich men that tried to capture Portia’s heart in Belmont in vain. Whatever the case, the words are clearly taken with offence. ‘After that, she is free to do as she pleases.’

‘And who are you to speak for her?’ The response does almost not sound human. Rather, it is more animalistic, the syllables growled instead of properly articulated. As by instinct, the hand holding a tight grip on the hip easily moves the small figure it holds further behind a broad back.

And it lets him because Red Riding Hood was also foolish enough to trust the Big Bad Wolf.

Nonetheless, this is not stupid because Namjoon is a safe haven.

A natural place to hide.

Trustworthy.

Known.

Protecting.

No, I cannot get lost in him. Not now nor ever. There is no forever. Not for us.

Another taunting threatening utterance does not need to be said to obviously mark it as the moment to intervene in the absurd cockfighting. After all, both parties were presumed to know better than fall into the kind of battles which should have been left behind in high school.

A barely noticeable though harsh tug at the sleeve beckons a reluctant listening ear. ‘Joon, you know who he is. I’ve told you about him many times. We’re just friends.’

Speech becomes increasingly and noticeably harder, gritted teeth diluting the following mocking phrase. ‘Just friends, huh? Then why does he look so hurt when you say that?’

‘I’m not! Look, man, you’re seeing things.’ Now the sonorous voice of the guy who dreams of becoming a rapper someday has gained the same double-edged sinister detail as Namjoon’s, also clearly ready to jump the gun if it is necessary.

‘Oh, so I’m delusional?’ In the time it takes to snap fingers, the guarding palm on the hip has fallen away and moulded into a fist like its trembling counterpart. ‘I’ll make you see things.’

‘Don’t.’ A swift hand on a smooth caramel cheek shifts the grey-haired man’s attention to the touch, fortunately evidently appreciating the soft caresses. Digits see the opportunity to entwine with the temporarily loosened would-be soldiers, thus taking away the chance for Instinct to really throw the mind into blazing red-visioned anger and a worthless scuffle. Drag the attached tall body away with whatever strength has been gained with hours in the gym if the situation gets out of hand, difficult as it could be. Perhaps the lasses will release bated breaths and find the courage to escape the tensity suppressing all sources of preventing help. ‘Don’t, Joon. You know better than this.’

With the wolf distracted by the gentle touches normally meant for lovers, the chance of addressing the oddly opposing party as well is taken. ‘Both of you. By Jaysus, you are grown men. Act like it. Changkyun, I really appreciate you standing up for me, but I’ll take it from here.’

‘Y/N, are you-’

‘I am, Kkung.’ Turning away from a comrade hands the self back over into careful surrender to the menacing poet who is no longer entranced by the soft to and fro movements on the freshly shaven suntanned skin. ‘Come on, let’s go, Namjoon. Lads, see you-‘

The farewell cannot be fully worded due to being pulled along to the exit, forced into endeavouring to keep up with the fast pace long strides put between the people who make academic life not all that bad and the promised place that will also function as a spot for a good talk about these outrageous circumstances.

The fresh breeze feels like a delight after the dusty smell of the long cold clinical corridors and warm tiny hallways crowded with students waiting for a lecture on the subject of years of study, immediately refreshing every jumbled oppressed thought before remembering being anchored to an ever-sailing ship which shows no signs of slowing down. Henceforth, feet stumble over the uneven reddish plum mixing with mustard yellow cobblestones, both colours occurring at irregular intervals, of the papal dyke and past the precariously situated aquamarine statue of the sole pope the Lower Countries has ever produced, towards the plaza where a divided church stands till this very day.

When almost tripping over the bronze outline of the Roman castle wall that stood there two-thousand years ago, the historic remnants forever resting beneath the surface in peace, a short yet powerful tug catches the captain’s attention. ‘Namjoon, hold on a minute, will ye?’

With one hand, since the other is caught in a grip that does not allow any sort of movement, the winter jacket lined with earth-toned wolf fur gone astray over the linen blouse and autumnal brown tartan treggings - messing up the outfit underneath so that it also has to be corrected - is made proper again. The leather bag relieved from its duty as a retail worker’s pack mule is slung over the shoulder instead of letting it sling from the crook of the elbow before eyes brave the animalistic snarl of the contemporary Ares. ‘What the hell was that about? Did you have to make a scene in front of my friends like that?’

‘Maybe you didn’t see it, but that “friend”,’ the word is spat out with as much venom as has crept into the voice of a koala turned into a mirror of the wolf suddenly treating her as a prey solely preserved from him, ‘clearly saw this as a step to something more valuable. Before he couldn’t ask you out because you always head straight home or have lunch with me, but now there was a very opportune occasion to ask you out. All you had to do was forget your wallet.’

Though strange sensations removed from the rage blazing like a storm inside at the humiliating display are provoked, the original anger cannot be entirely suppressed when continuing the verbal battle for the reasoning is absurd. After all, Changkyun is merely a pal asking another who is having an all but grand day out for a comforting beverage and to have a brief repose together. ‘It was only a fucking single cup of coffee! He and I are nothing more than friends and Kkung knows that. You know that!’

The laugh preluding a jeering response is mirthless, devoid of actual amusement and in its place filled with pure mocking. ‘Look at you, calling that dude by his nickname.’

‘It’s true, you bastard.’ A neatly shaped eyebrow raises sarcastically, unconvinced of the outburst at taking the credit of the truth for granted. ‘And that’s normal, Joon, calling people by their nickname. In fact, you and I do it all the time. I honestly see no other problem than you at the moment.’

‘How can you not see it? He’s not the man for you, ba- bear.’ The nickname that was given after the first night of laying side by side after being rescued from nightmares, clinging onto the strong arm wrapped around the waist while the other was draped around the shoulder with its fingers entangled in smooth ash blonde locks thus forming an apparent likeness with a koala, oddly forms a second option. Thoughts run wild with ruminations of the original pet name feeding the foreign emotions floating beneath the unforgiving menace of being made a fool of, momentarily calming the urging need to futilely wrap small palms around a golden throat to gladly strangle the life energies out of it.

Withal, surely the assumptions as to the hastily stopped intent are ungrounded for they are all inappropriate for calling a family member.

However, if the addressed person is alright with the chosen term of endearment and there is no technical blood-based relationship between the individual and the speaker, it should not be problematic.

A wishful empty hope.

A doomed daydream.

The silly fantasy of a stupid girl.

That is what it is, the Truth plain and simple: we are bound by a bloodless bond which is mercilessly deprived of a love that is craved so much in his presence.

As if the chance for the latter to be directed towards me has ever been present.

To not show the inner conflict deteriorating the mind and too stubborn to show surrender as of yet, the argument continues with as steady a voice as can be mustered. ‘Oh, he isn’t the right man? And who would be, eh?’

The painfully tight grip on the hand loosens and falls away entirely, rendering the tongue silent in wonder as hands remove the trench coat and the obsidian turtleneck underneath to reveal a bright crimson shirt of which the two top buttons are made undone to expose marvellously carved collarbones. A complete loss for words occurs when the piece of clothing is patiently handed out for the taking with the softened expression of the bear within that always occurs when being worried about something, a slight shake indicating to do so.

It would be taken directly without hesitation was it not for the inquiry about the sudden change of topic, also slightly indicating there is no need for an additional layer of clothes despite the joy always found in the comfort scented by the poet. ‘Why are you handing me your sweater? Put it back on or you’ll get a cold.’

‘I could say the same for you. Just put it on, that blouse won’t keep you warm.’ Teeth bite down on a plush roseate lower lip when noticing the top of the crisp white lace bralet peeking out from the bare opening similar to the fashion of the ruby shirt containing a chest rising and falling a bit faster with laboured breath.

The classy though suggestive piece miraculously found its way to the sheets of the bed after an afternoon of wandering the city together, during which eyes fell on the piece of lingerie but quickly averted to not make the grey-haired giant whose hand was first held then, small hand wrapped around the pinky, uncomfortable.

A day later, ensuing the return from a tiring linguistics lecture at the university and preparing to go to the gym, a paper bag containing the underwear sat neatly at the end of the bed without any message that could indicate where, or rather from whom it came. Not a second thought had to be conjured to know the story behind what was left clueless since it was not the first time it happened. The sole difference with previous instances is that it did not concern a book, shirt, dress or small note containing a song and its artist.

More than a second thought, however, needed to be conjured to dispel all the crazy fantasies following in the gift’s wake, especially due to the bond with the gorgeous Fox in the East.

Just a present.

Nothing but a kindness.

Simply one of many shown before.

Devoid of sensual intent.

Except for in the phantom play that followed under the twilight of a starless heaven in which the silver moon shone bright, conducted in as silent a fashion as was possible.

‘You’re wearing it.’ The tone suggests that the unconscious desire of being seen even has guided the sense of style for the day for only now does the impact of the choice become apparent to the accidental planner.

‘Do you- Do you like it?’ Although asked in a timid manner, the images flashing by of the sensual wanton morning accident are depleted of any sort of innocence. Instead, they empower the suspicion theorizing that if the choice of underwear had been discovered earlier on, all protest would have been disregarded and the secret longing been fulfilled regardless of the consequences.

If the unbroken gaze and low dangerous growl are anything to go by alongside trembling digits creeping toward the part of the body which was unintentionally explored before breakfast, Namjoon does approve of the most inner outfit. Withal, the dangerous glint also proposes a slight disapproval since it is obviously seen as a means of temptation for other men as well. Another cause to resume the argument, so it would appear. ‘Put the sweater on before the wrong guy sees you. What were you even thinking, going out dressed so minimally?’

‘Minimally? I’m not dressed like a prostitute, but more like the miss Fancy Pants you know I tend to be. Besides, so what if a man sees me? I’m single. Furthermore, what if he happens to be cute, eh? Would certainly shut Da up, constantly pushing me to get a boyfriend.’ Moreover, Heungji still forms the girlfriend of three years connected via digital lifelines despite Korea being miles away across the globe.

None of this should matter to either of us.

But it does.

Oh, how it does to a wolf and a hapless doe.

A more wrong response could not have been given, gritted teeth no longer proposing the offered dark turtleneck but demanding for it to be worn without offering an opportunity for refusal. ‘Put. It. On.’

‘Alright. By Jaysus.’ Secretly delighted at wearing one of the comforting pieces scented by peppery cologne and espresso, formerly with a hint of smoke, agitatedly the sweater is accepted after shedding the beige winter jacket which does a splendid job on its own of holding out the cold of the fairly harsh breeze. ‘Here, hold my coat.’

While fumbling to find the way in the oversized jumper, a pair of big trusted hands roam down the sides of the body briefly, exploring its details and committing them to memory while an indecipherable murmur outside the fabric sounds renouncing of something said earlier.

For a moment, there is an invisible delight in the forbidden touch, revelling in the entertainment of feeling it in other places and be mapped out entirely. Unfortunately, the action is cut short by a curt strong pull which reintroduces the gothic backside of the separated cathedral and entrance to the tranquil ancient gardens of the adjacent monastery lit by the bright winter sun shining in a rare fortunate clear sky. Slender long caramel fingers correct the ashen locks gone astray, running smoothly through them as they are lovingly pushed back in an attempt to reconstruct the style before the transformation into a further dishevelled heap instead of the fairly charming bedhead they were styled in.

An admiring thumb strays via the cheek to the mouth, running over a pomegranate bottom lip and abruptly coming to a breathless halt when it is instinctively enveloped. Carefully it tests the waters, seeking out the limits of the power that can be exerted, by sliding further in and pushing down the tongue a bit. Surprise colours attitude completely when it is allowed, though the flash of a satisfied smile tells of the emotions surfacing thanks to the rather controlling sensuous action.

It is wrong.

We both know that.

Nevertheless, neither makes a move to end this.

None of us wants to stop.

Whereas the induced trance does not permit speech in the case of the girl fallen into a spur of the moment which may come at a dear price - merely the clenching of thighs due to a lucid daydream - Joon breaks somehow manages to break the silent spell with a voice that has gained a new baritone timbre previously only accidentally heard in privacy behind the bedroom door. ‘You’re being such a little brat, aren’t you? Going against me, dressing in a way you know will make me jealous when others look and turn me on, trying to go for coffee with that “friend” of yours. It makes me want to-’

A silent reflecting second passes wherein mildness overtakes a sliver of mighty posture, nullifies it enough to alter the spoken words from their original version. ‘Why, Y/N? Why are you doing this to me?’

The cushiony meeting with only a fracture of skin shamefully ends, but the one between gazes continues, obedience unable to look away from the power finally directed at it. Awed yet scared of the implications of the inquiry, the boundaries are stretched a bit further beyond the unfathomable point they already are in the hopes of hearing what should actually be said to another girl far away from here. Direct whatever serves as a correcting of behaviour at her. ‘What are you saying?’

The intent is never stated, but considering the paradox of emotions storming in the grave though still undeniably jealous stare, it holds the middle between pain and mildness.

‘Stop playing games. You know what I mean. I don’t want to see you with anyone but-’ The rushed bitter comment is abruptly cut off, the speaker strangely appearing to stop himself in time lest something would have been said that should remain unknown. In its stead, a meagre replacement of the original intent forms a response lacking in conviction, still obviously retaining secrets. ‘Any man who sees you like this, the outfit underneath, I mean, they- none of them are- they’re just not good enough, Y/N. Lead by lust. Changkyun might not directly show it, but I’m quite sure he’s as well. You need someone who can provide for you, be there for you regardless of the circumstances, want you as you are.’

‘How would you know, Joon? You can tell me this, but be completely wrong. Furthermore, I know Kkung well enough to know lust has never nor will ever form part of his motives. What’s more, it’s my opinion which matters in deeming a person’s intentions and value to me. You don’t get to decide that because you don’t know. I choose my perfect man, not you.’ The former irritation is ignited and fueled anew, momentarily effectively suppressing the aftermath of the newly made memory that will undoubtedly form a source for fantasy in private loneliness, when the grey wolf turns around and heads further toward the plaza of the broken church and leaves the negative words in his wake. ‘Hey! We’re not done talking!’

For a little while there is no reaction, merely speed-walking flowing over in running to catch up, until the mute solemn poet is stopped by a stubbornly defying palm on the chest in the middle of the square, right where once the ship of the cathedral stood before a tornado blew it to smithereens. ‘I said we weren’t done. What is up with you? First what happened-’ A deep beaten breath accompanies the retreat of the hand under a flustered gaze, one betraying many things are left unspoken yet unable to be said for an unknown reason and another taken by awkward astonishment due to the rash action. Feeling a slight quickening in breathing at the touch.

The softening effect of the dusting of crimson painting the cheeks flows over in speech, knowing that more yelling will get the conversation nowhere if not circling around itself, continuously ending or beginning at the same point. Within the scattered fragments of weakened posture are gathered to revive the blazing phoenix, ready to gain answers from the one who turns her into ashes again and again. ‘First this morning and now this. You’re acting weird for some reason I don’t know about.’

‘You really don’t see it, do you?’ Hands clench into trembling fists, an outburst on the brim of full rosy lips stupidly longing to fight its way to the surface but oppressed into a snarling reply.

You can’t love me.

‘See what? All I can see right now is a person who is dear to me floating off to God-knows-where without telling me why, acting all agitated as their own judge when I merely reach out. Pray, tell, what’s up?’

You never will.

‘I simply don’t want you to be disappointed, but find a man who is right for you.’ The tone of regret makes a sudden appearance, nullifying the entire argument that is meant to put an end to the rekindled subject. Somehow bringing a stranger into two entwined lives would be a shameful unexplained happening.

However, the mind has taken on too much of a careless attitude to pick up on the significance it might hold for it tells more of all that is not said. Instead, eyes roll towards the sky, lips forming into a sarcastic mirthless smile. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again. I can hardly believe this is why you’re acting so strangely. Yes, you had a difficult night but that does not excuse you from the matter because it forms no motive for what you did. Just talk to me, goddammit.’

Whatever occurred between the wolfish bear and the enchanting fox, the worthless koala is far removed from the private issues of the people depending on digital highways to remain in contact in order to keep the love alive.

But why do you sound contrite? I hate to see you so closed off, so removed from me. Namjoon, please. I know you hate fighting as much as me.

‘I am! And I already told you I’m sorry for what I did during breakfast. How many times do I need to repeat it before you believe it?’ Again, something is left unsaid as an indescribable tone leaning towards remorse finishes the half-yelled reaction. Fists stop trembling, fingers unfurling one by one and reaching out for the cheek of an uncomprehending girl turned into a mirror of his wolf within, shaking. But mid-air they fall away in fruitless resignation. ‘Please, believe me, bear.’

What aren’t you telling me?

‘Oh, you’re talking to me? Sorry for not noticing because it seems we’re continuously going back to a topic that explains nothing. However, since you appear to be so adamant about it, tell me who would be right.’ Regardless of the thought, the stubborn student within longs for a concrete answer to the question which has thus far only a precarious thesis as its reply without evidence to back it up.

There is no trace of the temporary warmth anymore in the gaze pinning down the opposing party, ready to spout out whatever has been wanting to be said and can no longer be contained. ‘You really want to know? Are finally going to listen for once?’

‘By all means, enlighten me. Who would be worthy?’

Ears go deaf after the utterance of a single word, Time standing still due to doubt about whether it is better to move forward, go back or remain a bit longer in curious revelling as Reality shrinks till it is confined to two people.

‘Me!’

[wham-bam-alacazam]

Elvira Martin : Laid Bare

Name: Elvira Martin Sex: Female Nickname(s): El - This was a nickname given to her by her ex-husband Nate. She still really likes the nickname and it has a lot of icky sentimental feelings attached to it. 

Ellie - A term of endearment given to her by Cait Age: 27 Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 5 foot  10 inches Weight:145  pounds 

Skin tone: Elvira is very pale. She works hard to maintain her pale appearance, wearing long sleeves and carrying around a parasol to block out the sun. Scar(s): Elvira has a scar along the side of her face. It started about half way down her forehead and runs down by her eyebrow. It’s deep and left over from her days in the military doing field work. A suit of power armor exploded and metal blasted everywhere. She has a few other places on her stomach, arms and legs where the metal scarred after being removed. 

Tattoos:  She has one tattoo of a planchette on her high thigh that is very gothic and dark  

Eye color: Brown Hair: She has straight bangs and a bob of dark black hair. She maintains it very well. Whenever she can, she does her best to wash and tend to her hair. Impairments: She needs glasses for distance. Accent/Voice: Her voice is very smooth and regal. She speaks like she is always in charge. She keeps a tone like she owns the place, whatever dump that may be. Makeup: Her makeup is heavy and always on. She wears sleek winged eyeliner that is somehow always perfectly straight. Her shadow is a dark base with purple around it and under her eyes. Her brows are filled in to keep that thin, arched look. She wears a little blush high on her cheeks but that’s about it. Her lips are always a bright, bold red color with a maroon lining. Freckles/Birthmarks/Etc.?: She had a mole on her forehead that pokes out from under her bangs. 

Clothing: When she’s not in her armor, she wears a tux or a sleek black dress that she’s sewn together herself. Her armor is a vault suit with whatever she can find over it. She often wears a militia hat. She always wears her glasses. Weapon(s): Her signature weapon is a modified black baseball bat that’s been painted with her own intricate and ornate white detailing. It also has razor blades wrapped around it. She likes going in fast and hard. If she needs a gun, its a shotgun or a submachine gun. She’s also been known to use knives when need be. 

Faction Affiliations: Elvira is very much so a lone wolf but she was wrapped into working with the Minutemen and the Brotherhood of Steel. She doesn’t support or stand for much of what the Brotherhood does but she can’t help but feel secure in the familiar feeling working in a military setting with power armor. 

Stats Strength: 5 Perception: 5 Endurance: 4 Charisma: 7 Intelligence: 8 Agility: 3 Luck: 2

Perks: Big Leagues 2

VANS

Sneak

Hacker 2

Locksmith 2

Local Leader

Science! Addictions: Alcohol Loves: 

The dark and mysterious

Honest people

Being Goth

Working on power armor

Likes: 

Alcohol

Tinkering with weapons 

Shotguns

Cats

Neutrals: 

Comics

Morals 

Armor

Faction discourse Dislikes:

Being blood soaked

Her hair being ruined 

Classical music

Super Mutants Hates: 

People with alternative motives 

Being disrespected 

Rads 

Working for free Fears: Assaultrons- She had worked with too many in the past and know exactly what they are capable of, making them a huge fear of hers. 

Turning into a ghoul- While Elvira has nothing against ghouls, she hates to even think about turning into one herself. 

Disappearing- Elvira is terrified that she will disappear one day. That people will just forget about her and that she’s not important.  Quirks: She makes a ‘tch’ sound with her tongue whenever she is thinking or judging someone. Whenever she is anxious or worried she’ll play with her hair. Backstory: She met Nate in the army. She was working in engineering with power armor and he was a soldier. They married young due to pressure from their families. They weren’t really happy but because of pressure from their families, again, they stayed together. It was a toxic relationship on both sides but it all happened behind closed doors. They tried to look normal. Had a kid. Went to block parties. Smiled and waved. But neither were happy. Nate wanted to have a kid. He wanted so badly to have a kid. Elvira didn’t. They ‘had trouble’ having a kid. Their trouble was El continuing to take her birth control. When she finally found out she was pregnant at 26, El panicked. She tried to hide it from everyone, denying it to herself. But eventually she began to show and the jig was up. Looking back, that was the only time she never fought with Nate, purely because of how doting and kind he was being, she didn’t have enough energy to fight with him. After 9 months, she had Shaun. She wanted nothing to do with him and had severe postpartum depression. She wanted to get rid of it. She couldn’t raise a baby. It was Nate baby. Not her’s. She spent days in bed, doing the minimum she could with the baby. Eventually Nate called a doctor to the house to help and they did. She shook the depression and coped with it, but she never got rid of the feeling that the baby wasn’t hers. Of course, it was hers, but it felt so foreign. She started working more and more, trying to stay away from home and Nate ended up staying home with the baby. She got questions about it at work, wondering why she came back so fast but she avoided them all. Whenever she came home, she would always fight with Nate. He was disappointed in her mothering skills. He was angry that she was never home. That she wasn’t a wife anyone. She wasn’t ever a mother. He was the one always putting Shaun to bed and waking him up and changing diapers, giving 2am feedings. She hadn’t even tried to breastfeed. They would scream at each other. She had to work. She didn’t want this. It was his fault that she couldn’t leave. His crazy religious family. It was his constant nagging and complaining that drove her to work herself to death. Elvira ended up cheating on Nate and it came to a snapping point in their relationship. That brings it up to the bombs and the events of the game. She’s slow about trying to find Shaun because she never really wanted a kid but there was always that nagging sense of motherly duty that drove her to find him and the guilt of there being a baby out there alone with a stranger. Although, she was just as much a stranger to him as anyone else. Lover’s Embrace Quotes: 

“Wow you were loud enough to wake the dead.” 

“I did say I’d try anything once..” 

“Ow…” 

“Nothing could capture this moment” 

“Remind me to bring more candles next time we have a seance at the witching hour.” 

“Breakfast in bed, my dear?”

  Relationships Codsworth: He had always been kind to her, despite seeing the failing marriage he was involved in. He stuck around after the war and helped around the settlement because he found that he enjoyed helping people and serving. Elvira turned him over to Preston where she knew he would be happier serving.  Dogmeat: Good boy. She keeps him safe at him in Sanctuary. He stays at the house and is a lap dog. Preston Garvey: Preston and her are close but it is a very business like relationship. She thinks that Preston is too uptight and too driven. He had no goals outside of the Minutemen. But it worked out for her so she sticks around. She enjoys rebuilding the Commonwealth and bringing something other than violence around. Nick Valentine: She and him have very similar humor and get along well. They go out for drinks often. She appreciates his efforts to help her find Shaun and his sympathetic ear that he often leans. He understands. Piper: She gets on her nerves. She’s too peppy and sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong. But she’s doing the right thing. Cait: Elvira gets very attached to Cait after saving her from the Combat Zone. She feels like they were cut from the same cloth. She helps clean her up and takes her all over the Commonwealth with her. They get romantically involved. 

John Hancock: El and Hancock are bros in the first degree. They are very different but they go together very well. She is always ready for a drink with him. They can talk for hours and laugh and joke forever. Robert Joseph MacCready: Elvira likes how she can make MacCready squirm. He’s got a personality where she know how to mess with him and she does. She doesn’t like how weak willed he seemed to be. Paladin Danse: If Preston is uptight, then Danse is… something else. She regrettably works with him often but that doesn’t mean that she enjoys it. She tries to make the best of it but they clash heads just as much as she did with Nate. She and Danse will scream at each other until the world’s end. But when push comes to shove there is one big difference between him and Nate. El will take a hit for Danse. They have a connection on a deep level. A loyalty to something bigger than themselves, even if Elvira’s is gone. Possibly a romance here? Deacon: Little shit is everywhere and El laughs at it. She picks up on his lies quickly and plays into them. They are trouble with a capital T even if he gets on her nerves. Maxson: El and Maxson run circles around each other. They both have very dominant personalities but they don’t clash. They circle each other like dangerous and hungry lions. 

Media 

spotify playlist: x

images: x x 

writing: x x x x x

fic: x

pinterest board: x

[him-e]

Hey! I love your analysis’ of Reylo. They’re my favorite. I have a loaded question (hopefully you’ve never been asked) — when do you think both Rey and Kylo became PHYSICALLY attracted to each other? And when do you think Rey became ROMANTICALLY attracted to Kylo, because I think we can all agree after killing Han Solo and their fight on Starkiller Base, she was, and rightly so, hostile and angry. Sorry if it’s a stupid question but you just seem to go really in depth with details. :)

ok so I noticed a very similar ask is already making the rounds on here, but since I started writing this post before I saw it, you’re getting mine too, yay. 

First: physical vs romantic can be a false binary. Some people don’t experience a difference in physical attraction vs romantic attraction. On a literary level, and especially in the context of a space opera/fairytale geared towards a young audience, the distinction might be entirely redundant: the two spheres coincide, as the sexual element is never explicit in fairytales, and the romantic interest is often a stand-in for both. You don’t get a point where the characters are “only” physically attracted to each other in this kind of stories.  

Second: going from hating someone to falling in love with said someone is a pretty standard romantic trope. It’s juicy, it’s sexy, and it’s all about CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. In enemies to lovers stories, the initial hatred is not an obstacle but part of the romantic build-up.Usually there isn’t “one” turning point where the relationship dramatically changes, but many. It’s a gradual evolution. 

With that said… I believe a degree of attraction was always there on both sides (Kylo’s side being a bit more self-evident than Rey’s, though Rey’s part is interesting as well, more on that later). The romantic feelings, on the other hand, are still a work in progress. They still haven’t acknowledged them. 

Let’s start with Kylo because it’s easier. 

1) Kylo is VERY attracted to Rey since the beginning.

Our boy is very transparent when it comes to Rey.He instinctively recognizes that there’s something special to this girl, and he’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

^ He looks her up and down. Adam emphasizes this gesture with a blatant head motion because he’s wearing a mask and he can’t be subtle about it. Which means he was probably asked to be unsubtle.

^ He gets in her personal space immediately after that. There’s really no need to be this close if he wanted to simply mind probe her. 

This is especially interesting because the way this scene is edited we don’t see how he got so close that he’s practically…what, sniffing her neck? Whispering in her ear? So I guess the final cut was rather toned down compared to the raw footage of this scene, and it’s for the better, since Rey is immobilized and terrified and in no position to give consent to this closeness. (tbh, I suspect he was originally meant to touch her or cup her face in this scene, and they cut it because they wanted to make sure that Kylo never touches her—aside from bridal carrying her into his ship. See also how he touches her during the interrogation in the tfa novelization but not in the movie. This is an excellent decision in my opinion. It’s crucial that Kylo doesn’t cross that boundary without Rey’s consent, so it makes it all the more poignant when he touches Rey’s outstretched hand in TLJ. Yeah, don’t tell me this wasn’t all planned.)

This attraction isn’t conscious on Kylo’s part—he seems to be completely clueless about it. Both Rey and Kylo are coded as very immature for their ages, both because they’re supposed to have a coming of age arc (which in true sw fashion overlaps with a hero’s journey), and because they’re emotionally stunted as neither had a “normal” adolescence (for different reasons).

^ more unnecessary closeness and he’s also blatantly looking at her lips and neck here. I won’t go in deep into the interrogation scene because there’s too much to dissect, but yeah, the whole thing is Kylo being ridiculously fascinated by Rey and not knowing what to do with it.

But this is also where he starts going deeper into her… ahem, poor choice of words, sorry. I mean he looks inside her mind and he’s enraptured. He sees her loneliness, her fear to leave the place where she’s bound in a forced state of childhood, he sees the island of her dreams—and her affection for Han, which immediately triggers a cascade of unpleasant feelings for him. In short, this is where he connects with her emotionally (although forcibly) and where it stops being just curiosity and attraction and becomes something more, on a deeper level than just the physical, for him.

(casual reminder that this is a space opera so yes, Kylo can see a kaleidoscope of Rey’s inner world and HOPELESSLY FALL IN LOVE WITH IT in the span of 2 minutes of mind probe. This isn’t to be taken literally.)

As she slips out of his grip just when he’s starting to know her, Kylo LOSES HIS SHIT. He gives in to a childish temper tantrum at the sight of her empty interrogation chair, and when she shows up again at Finn’s side, he sees red. This is very possessive/jealous coded behavior.

THEN REY SUMMONS THE LEGACY SABER AND HE’S LIKE:

^ Heart eyes, motherfucker. I think at this point our boy’s fallen HARD. He still doesn’t know, of course. But it’s clear that this moment—the whole duel with her—left a huge impression on him. Later in TLJ, he tells Rey that she has “that look in her eyes, from the forest”, which, wow, someone’s been thinking about Rey’s eyes A LOT and memorizing that particular expression and romanticizing the shit of of it.

Verdict: Kylo immediately finds Rey attractive but has probably no idea why he feels that way, and starts making a lot of irrational decisions in order to take her with him and make her stay. By the end of TFA, he’s already caught a variety of Feelings. They will only intensify in TLJ, but the foundation, both in physical and emotional terms, is already there.

2) Rey. Rey is more complicated because she’s our protagonist/main pov, she’s female—female attraction is depicted differently than male attraction—and most importantly she’s in a situation of disadvantage for most of TFA. Due to her limited agency she is forced to react rather than act, and she’s constantly in a fight or flight mode. 

This, of course, makes her (subtle) attraction hard to notice and problematic to discuss, but we’ll get there.

^ Her first reaction to a full masked Kylo Ren is blind terror (with reason: Kylo chases, immobilizes, and then threatens her with his lightsaber). But remember: per the novelization, “she has seen this man before. In a nightmare, in a dream”. This already introduces an element of ambiguity: why this distinction? Was the dream pleasant? Kylo is, at this stage, the physical manifestation of a shadow that seems to be haunting her (in her subconscious, but also in the force vision she had minutes before). It isn’t as much repulsive as it is scary. 

Soon enough, she starts conversing with the shadow. Once the initial terror fades, she regains composure and starts demanding answers, even as tied up to a chair as she is.

The unmasking is a crucial moment.

^ This is when Rey sees Ben’s face for the first time—the prince underneath the beast—and it confuses her. It’s where she loses her combative attitude and has to regroup for a minute. She blinks, she breathes in, her eyes wander across his figure.The novelization states that it’s because he looks so average (LOL, sure) and not monstrous at all, but beyond the surface reading, this already tells us that Rey took time to register Kylo’s facial features and find them strangely unthreatening–even familiar. She definitely doesn’t find him repulsive or odd-looking.

From this moment on, she has trouble looking at him. She’s constantly avoiding his eyes or stealing short glances at him—he turned from creature into man, and she’s suddenly hyperaware of his closeness and her restraints. (this is where most people feel uncomfortable with that scene, because it’s dripping with ambiguous tension). Then she finds Kylo in her mind, she fights back and locks eyes with him again, this time unafraid. She chooses to look into the monster and while she turns the tables on him, invading his mind, she finds herself “inexorably drawn to”… something. His fears? The novelization leaves this unsaid, but the choice of words is interesting. She’s not merely pushing him out, or defending herself anymore. She finds something that intrigues her in there. That draws her in.

This scene is where they truly reveal themselves to the other—Kylo’s humanity and weaknesses, and Rey’s powers and strength. It leaves them both shaking and bewildered. It’s a sort of initiation—for both. To each other’s force powers, but also to the attractive power each has on the other.

Then comes another turning point—Han’s murder, which Rey witnesses from a privileged perspective.

^ There’s a sort of softness, but also enrapture, in her expression here. She’s completely sucked into this scene, all but forgetting she could shoot Kylo from where she is and end this at any moment. No, what she’s seeing is another side of Han, but also another side of Kylo Ren.

It goes back to when she was first introduced to the story of Ben Solo.

See? Raptured. Camera zooming in on her face. Light spheres floating around her as Han tells her about the boy who destroyed it all. This is a magical moment, the cinematography is telling us. 

On some level, even before meeting him in person, she’s drawn to him. Remember, this is a fairytale.

By the forest scene Rey is horrified, angry, exhausted, grieving. In the span of two days she was forced to grow past childhood, cut her umbilical cord to Jakku, and enter a scary phase of transition into adulthood, which Kylo is, like it or not, a big part of. Now she’s seen him murder his own father—he is a monster with a human face, something that seems to enrage her even more. The following duel is more of a discovery of her own powers (and potential darkness) than it is about Kylo (whereas for Kylo it’s definitely about Rey), but in the end she can’t bring herself to kill him. Again, this tells us more about who Rey is and what is her inner conflict than it does about her relationship with Kylo but… it’s something. I think on an instinctual level, even at this early stage, she recognizes something in him that resonates with her. His loneliness, his anger, his misery perhaps.

Verdict: at the end of TFA, Rey is mostly angry and scared of Kylo. All her actions revolve around getting the hell out of dodge, keeping Kylo out of her mind, and punishing him for Han’s death. Understandably. 

But she’s also curious. This man confuses her. He shows up in her subconscious, and he’s inextricably linked to her understanding of the Force, and her first experiences with it. It’s a sort of imprinting.

TLJ is when the really meaty part begins for Rey. In broad terms, TFA was Kylo’s romantic/sexual awakening to Rey, and TLJ is Rey’s to Kylo.The peaceful, safe setting of Ahch-To and the fact that through the force bond they can communicate but NOT hurt or manipulate each other draws Rey out of her fight or flight mode, allowing her to explore on her terms Kylo’s character, and all the questions and doubts he arouses (heh) in her. 

In their first force bond interactions, Kylo is calm and collected. In the other scenes he’s had so far he’s a hot mess of boiling rage and hurt (just minutes before, he smashed his helmet and launched an attack to the Resistance in which he thinks his mother perished), but with this girl who slashed his face in half and left him bleeding like a pig in the snow, he’s quite the soft spoken gentleman, lol. I think he’s been thinking a lot about Rey, he came to terms with his fascination for her, and now he wants to make Rey think about him too. He tempts and taunts her, from a place of relative knowledge/wisdom (or so he thinks). Rey’s the one who is in emotional turmoil. 

^ Initially, she tries to stick to her feisty heroine script, and she still has a lot of genuine rage and disgust for him, but mostly she can’t make sense of him. She feels insecure in what she knows (not just about Kylo but also about Luke, the Force, her role in this, everything. Nobody is telling her anything!), so she overcompensates with knee-jerk aggression and a false display of confidence (”I know everything I need to know about you!”). 

She also calls him “murderous snake!!!!”, which is hilarious and very revealing. IDK about snake symbolism in the GFFA, but here on earth, and especially in western culture, snakes symbolize insidious seduction, and that’s certainly the authorial intent behind this choice of words. By saying this line, Rey is framed as the quintessential virtuous maiden trying to resist (sexual) temptation, that biblically goes hand in hand with knowledge—which is exactly what Kylo offers. 

On a subconscious level, I think she already recognizes Kylo as a seduction.

^ This is the first thing that throws her off balance. She was probably expecting some angry shitty warped-moral-compass rebuttal, instead he quietly agrees that he’s a monster, while also “coming into the light” to let her see his face better. To make her see him. During the whole conversation, and part of the following force bond scene as well, Kylo is almost morbidly insistent to share with her the details of his past (”Did he tell you what happened? Did he tell you why?”). He wants her to see him, ugly as he is (in a spiritual sense).  

At this point, Rey’s sexuality is GETTING ANSWERS AND FIGURING SHIT ABOUT HER ROLE IN THE FORCE. And Luke (the biblical “God” of the island) is giving her none of that, other than hippie lessons about how the Force is a superior power blah blah and you better not fuck with it blah blah don’t go in the dark wet hole and remember that the Jedi aren’t supposed to intervene in mundane shit, blah.

I actually think the deleted fish nun party scene is important to understand Rey’s state of mind entering the third, and crucial, force connection. The point of that lesson—at least the way Rey understands it—is teaching her inaction and second-guessing her instincts. Luke is projecting his own disillusionment on her. He’s telling her to stop believing in heroes, when what Rey actually needs is believing in herself as a hero. She comes out of it feeling more frustrated and humiliated than ever. Depressed, almost.

Kylo, instead, gives her answers. Not definite answers, but something that propels her into action. He tells her, “do this and this in order to become the person you’re meant to be”. He strokes her ego. He talks about her destiny. He echoes and validates her suppressed anger and frustration. He digs up a painful truth about her family, and encourages her to face it. Even as she demands to know the reason he murdered his father, he makes it all about her. First, he made her see him; now he’s making her see herself through his eyes.

And, of course, he’s half naked through the entire thing. This is the first time Rey is confronted with something textually (as in, not simply existing in the subtext) sexual. The shirtlessness is obviously here for a meta reason too (to loudly communicate the romantic undertones of the dynamic, to symbolically strip Kylo of his layers, and to give the audience an eye candy) but even Rey the character is aware that this has to do with sex, someway. 

^ That’s why she stutters and averts her eyes. This is the unmasking 2.0, only this time the sexual implications are in the forefront. In a pg-13 format, of course, but still largely readable even for children.

This is where Rey starts wondering if they could actually touch. Gee, what a coincidence. 

The shirtless scene is a huge turning point where the romantic build up becomes, for a short while, glaringly sexual. It would be easy to say that this is when Rey’s physical attraction is born, but that’s an oversimplification. Everything in this movie and in the movie before has been building to this. Kylo Ren has been at the forefront of Rey’s thoughts since Starkiller. She has a powerful psychic connection to him, talked about him with Luke, wondered about the reasons of his patricide, questioned his backstory, exercised frantically to blow off the steam of their encounters. 

This isn’t when Rey first begins to feel attraction to Kylo—it’s where she’s first faced with the reality of it, and us with her.

And facing this reality is, in part, what prompts her to go into the dark side cave—the one the older male authority figure forbade her from going, the one in which she already subconsciously expects to walk a threshold. The threshold of knowing what happened to her parents, the question that she’s been avoiding for so long, that kept her bound to Jakku, to a version of herself who never grew up past childhood because growing up would make the years and years of abandonment painfully real, rather than just notches on a wall.

The cave scene has all the markings of an archetypal rite of passage into adulthood (and womanhood). The water, the near-drowning experience, the visions, the multiple selves, the mirror. Rey goes into it fully understanding that however it goes, it will imply a loss of innocence. Thematically, it’s a direct continuation of the other loss of innocence she’s just experienced—the sexual one, with Kylo.

Rey doesn’t get the answer she hoped for, but one that forces her to mature and come into her adult self—it’s time to take responsibility and be the hero of her own story, because the adults she were waiting for are nowhere in sight. So she comes out of the cave as more mature… but also desperate for human connection. Or rather, for connection to a specific someone. She feels “relief” when she senses Kylo’s presence in the Force inside the hut. 

And when she sees him, she thinks again of touching him.

In the movie we don’t get how the conversation started, and the novelization doesn’t delve into details either, and boy what would I pay to know what sparked Rey’s confession. But we can imagine. By this point, Rey already feels a kinship with Kylo, and her distrust and skepticism for him has eroded. She sees her own loneliness in him. She feels they were both betrayed by parental figures on some level. She’s made the mental connection that if Vader was brought back, then Ben could be too, by someone who loves him. Their force connections have been strange but they also gave her the chance to discuss stuff she would have otherwise bottled up. He’s physically attractive to her. He doesn’t judge her for going into the darkness. And when he tells her what she needs to hear the most—that she’s not alone—she makes that leap and reaches out to touch him.

It’s an olive branch, a comforting gesture towards someone she feels is just alone as she is, but it’s physical contact she seeks. She could have offered her sympathy in any other way, yet she chose to reach for his hand. Remember, she’s been thinking about touching him for a while already.

Kylo, after a moment of confusion, responds by taking off his glove. This is such a loaded gesture in terms of its romantic/sexual meaning that I’m still in shock it actually happened. He’s baring himself to her, so that this contact happens without barriers. His skin is not covered in first order leather when he touches hers. This is the real him.

^ And then they have their visions of the future, and that One Perfect Tear falls down Rey’s cheek and Luke blows up the hut and this is where my analysis can stop because by this point it’s completely obvious that our girl has FALLEN HARD, and since she’s the *shoot first, ask later* type, she hops on the Falcon to get her boy back before she can admit to herself she’s stupidly in love with him.

Rey saw a vision of herself with Ben Solo at her side, and she’s so blinded by the beauty of it that making it happen as fast as possible becomes her number one priority.

But feelings for someone don’t change overnight so radically. If she’s so massively affected by that vision, it’s only because her romantic attraction for Kylo has been building up at a consistent pace since the start of the movie, getting her to a point where she spontaneously sought an intimacy with him.

It’s the same for Kylo. Rey literally ships herself to him, but he’s no less reckless than she is in barreling into this promise of a future idyll. When Rey gets on the Supremacy, he already knows this has to end with Snoke’s death somehow. He doesn’t know how to do it, but he will. He will sacrifice his master to be with her, just as she did.

If you asked either of them if they’re in love with each other, I bet they would stare at you with uncomprehending eyes—it’s like they lack the basic lexicon to understand their feelings, let alone verbalize them. So Rey’s like “save the fleet because it’s the morally right thing to do!”, and Ben’s like “join me to rule the galaxy!”, and they’re both like, “you’ll stand with me!”. They’re trying to express the love they already feel but they’re doing it in non-romantic terms, because that’s all they know.

(gifs are credited with the “ ^ “ - click on it and reblog the op!)

[axemetaphor]

OC Masterpost

I need an organized place to put info about all my OCs so that’s what this post is gonna be for!

In addition to basic bios and some reference images, I’ve also got links to Spotify playlists for every character, because music is a strong association with personality for me. (If you don’t use Spotify, or if you know of a streaming platform more easily accessible than Spotify, send me an anon and I’ll duplicate the playlists to that service then add a link here!) I also have moodboards for every OC.

This post will be rather long so I’ve put in under a readmore for the sake of convenience.

It’s also important to note that my OCs exist in an AU where some things are a little different. For example, Infinite in this AU is 17 and that’s definitely not because I assumed he was an edgy teen like Shadow, and after Robotnik’s defeat in Forces, the Resistance became the Restoration. All the troops who had been battling were reassigned to rebuilding whatever town they happened to be in at the time of victory, with extra troops being redistributed as needed (leading to the formation of small roving teams traveling from place to place to help out).

It’s a little bit of an unorganized info-dump at some points, but I’ll update it to be more organized at some point.

Updated 01/20/2019

Rhys the Serval

Spotify playlist | Moodboard

Rhys was designed by @creative-sanic and she also came up with most of his backstory!

Rhys is a gender-nonconforming cis gay dude. He was born to a ‘feral’ mother in the wilderness closest to Central City (between the City and Mystic Ruins, far enough away from civilization to be undetected for a majority of his early life). At age 7 or 8, a massive fire swept the forest, putting him and his mother in massive danger. Officials sent to contain the fire discovered that she and Rhys were living alone in the forest, and took the two into protective custody while working through the devastation caused by the fire. The city pressured Rhys’s mother to join civilization, but she adamantly refused, and as a consequence, Rhys was stolen from her and put up for adoption, leading to her having a violent breakdown. She was moved to a containment facility and hasn’t seen Rhys since; he has only the faintest memories of her. He was adopted at age 13 or 14 (having been shuffled around in foster care before then) by a family of bears, and went on to be a fairly average Mobian citizen, working as a waiter at Penne For Your Thoughts. That’s where he met Vitriol, who is now his boyfriend. After dating for a few months, they decided to move in together, with Vitriol moving into Rhys’s apartment, which was the larger of the two. Rhys is now roughly 19 years old (18 or 19).

Rhys and Vitriol have a steady relationship relatively devoid of problems. They love each other enough that no problem is too big for them to tackle, and when Vitriol became part of the Restoration (the collective effort to undo the damage done by Robotnik and the Resistance), Rhys moved with him all over the world, glad to have a reasonable excuse to travel. Neither wanted to attempt a longstanding long-distance relationship; their being separated briefly during the Resistance was frustrating enough for the two of them.

Rhys is unaware that he possesses Empathic abilities, and simply assumes he’s very good at figuring people out/being sympathetic, but in truth, the forest fire in his youth served as the catalyst for his abilities. Since his Empathy doesn’t require the same physical drain as, say, Vitriol’s Strength, Rhys mistakes his Chaos-Energy-related fatigue after using his powers to be emotional exhaustion. When he’s that tired is roughly the only time he can show unprovoked anger, but he’s also in-tune enough with himself to recognize when he’s being needlessly mean, and he’ll usually apologize right away. This happened most frequently during the events of the Resistance, where Rhys was tasked with helping to get survivors to safe places; he was very good at comforting those who may have lost friends/family in the attacks. From that, he’s begun to entertain the idea of becoming a therapist someday, though he’s not sure how he would afford the college degree for that. 

He gets along very well with Unknown due to them both having rather upbeat personalities. Though Unknown can be a little overbearing sometimes, Rhys likes talking to them and sometimes they’ll gush about how cute Vitriol is. 

As mentioned previously, Rhys doesn’t conform to typical gender norms; he’s a fashionista of sorts and doesn’t care what gender clothing is associated with. He thinks skirts are cute and feel nice, and he thinks makeup is a lot of fun, though he doesn’t do either every single day, just every now and then. For the most part, unless he’s feeling adventurous, he wears a hoodie and jeans, though his work outfit is a fancy suit. So, it’s often nice for him to just wear something low-effort. That being said, he always jumps at every opportunity to do his boyfriend’s makeup, and though Vitriol isn’t the biggest fan of it, he likes seeing Rhys smile, so he usually gives in.

Rhys often prompts Vitriol to keep up with his health, and the two go on camping trips whenever Rhys can convince Vitriol to go. He’s very good at camping; he can build a shelter easily, knows which plants are edible, etc.. Vitriol, by contrast, is pretty clueless, but Rhys is more than happy to teach him. 

When speaking, Rhys normally has a somewhat-formal tone, and he uses little to no slang (usually just words like “gonna,” and he almost never drops the G’s at the end of words). He’s very polite by nature (and some of the formality was ingrained by his job), and he tends to not talk a lot. When he’s really comfortable around someone (like Vitriol), he can chatter a lot, but if he catches himself, he’ll get really embarrassed about it. He has a soft, lilting voice that many find pleasant to listen to and soothing. When he gets excited, or raises his voice, it gets slightly higher in pitch. He’s not an anxious person (as in, he doesn’t have an anxiety disorder) but he’s rather shy and awkward around new people. He’s more of a reserved person than an anxious one, and he is by no means meek; having been raised (post-adoption) by a family of bears taught him how to roughhouse and hold his own against bigger enemies.

For the most part, Rhys isn’t bothered by his past. His life in the forest is far enough away, mentally, that to him it doesn’t feel like it even happened to him. However, the fire was a traumatic event for him, and to this day he has a deep-seated fear of fire. It’s rare, but on occasion, he will have nightmares about that day, and he doesn’t handle that well when alone. Fortunately, Vitriol is fairly helpful to Rhys—his simply being there is very comforting, even though he never really knows what to say.

Toxic the Porcupine

Spotify playlist | Moodboard

Note: while this character started out as a sonicsona of sorts, they’ve somewhat evolved from that and I don’t see them quite so much as “me” anymore. They do, however, share my name (or rather the name I’m using currently, as I write this). To further complicate things they also look the way I do right now and I use them for vent art lmao so, if I happen to draw myself as a mobian ever again I’ll tag it as #not oc. That way it’s clear what’s Toxic the OC and what’s Toxic the...uh, human being I guess. 

Toxic is an agender porcupine who hasn’t settled on their sexuality yet--they know they’re asexual, but they haven’t thought any further into their romantic orientation. They were born in a tiny unnamed village settled in the shadow of Scrap Brain Zone, and only recently did they leave after a majority of it was burnt to the ground...by them. They showed signs of being trans at a young age, and were subsequently bullied quite harshly by both their peers and their family. They came out to their family at age 17, which only deepened the rift already forming, and subsequently Toxic ran away for a week, spending that time in Scrap Brain Zone. That was their first overnight foray into the Zone, something that would eventually become a staple of their life.

At age 19, they discovered an abandoned prototype Wispon in Scrap Brain Zone (devoid of Wisps), which they then decided to retrofit with the flaming spouts from Scrap Brain Zone to make their own strange hybrid flamethrower. A few nights later, after a particularly awful verbal spat with their family, they decided to fake their own death by setting fire to their own room. However, things quickly got out of hand, and the whole town ended up in flames. They fled, unsure if anyone made it out alive that night...and a little less than sympathetic if they didn’t. (Fortunately, a majority of the little village’s populace wound up trickling into neighboring villages and towns)

Since then, they’ve been absolutely destroying almost everything in their path. With no direction and no impulse control, they are a complete loose cannon throwing a wrench in both Eggman’s plans and Sonic’s adventures. They live by a motto of recklessness and “I’m here for a good time, not a long time.” Being an un-powered Mobian, they can’t do much of anything with the Wispon taken away, but taking that Wispon away is much easier said than done. Shortly after their ‘debut�� as a villain-of-sorts, Eggman reached out to them with a message essentially reading, “hey, do you want a direction in which to burn everything down (that is preferably not my everything)?” Since joining forces with Robotnik, though, their chaos has become much more controlled, and now incidents of mass fires can usually be linked to Eggman sending them off somewhere. They are a persistent thorn in the Freedom Fighters’ sides as they just love to fight and don’t really care who they fight.

They will not, however, attack civilians directly. Their fires might pose a threat to cities, but they don’t outright attack people unprompted--their chaos isn’t fueled of malice but rather of recklessness and an extreme lack of forethought. If harassed, however, they aren’t above punching someone in the face, and civilians are warned to just stay the hell away from Toxic. Their behavior overall is best classed as “more of a danger to themselves than others, even when provoked.”

Toxic only owns one jacket and one pair of boots, as well as no other accessories save for the spiked bracelets and collar, since everything else was burnt. One item they are occasionally pictured with, but rarely wear, is a long ankh necklace, the origins of which they refuse to elaborate on. However, it’s clearly important to them… Prior to burning everything, they often wore ripped jeans, loose half-torn-up tank-tops with a variety of detailed patterns, and lots of bracelets. They despite feminine-coded clothing and would rather die than wear it. Overall, they’re fond of clothes that look like they’re being held together by safety pins and hope.

Their speaking pattern is completely all-over-the-place. Their accent is untraceable, they mix slang from a variety of regions, and mix pidgin street-slang with oddly formal sentence structure or complicated words. They alternate between dropped G’s at the end of words and dropped H’s at the beginning, but inconsistently; rather than being a sign that this accent is faked, it’s more a reflection of how scrambled they are on the inside. Toxic’s voice is prone to cracking, especially when they yell (which is very often), and it has a certain hoarse quality to it most of the time. It rests in a midrange between stereotypically “male” and “female” voices, and can be mistaken for a young boy or slightly-older girl interchangeably. This irritates them to no end—they’re no stranger to yelling in demand for their proper pronouns to be used.

Toxic has frequent nightmares, but never speaks of them. They often suffer from broken sleep, only getting a few hours at a time, and on occasion are struck with insomnia. During that time, they doodle or write, dealing with rather dark subjects, but never share this willingly. Oddly enough, they have a rather intense fear of fire (ironic given their Wispon) and of heights. Strangely they seem to use their fear as an adrenaline boost of sorts, embracing it to use as a motivation. (It’s somewhat similar to how Batman uses bats as his main motif, despite having been traumatized by an experience with bats in his childhood.)

They cannot be swayed to being “good,” because they truly believe they are an awful person who could never be good even if they tried. So, they just do what they want out of a very specific, Nihilistic worldview, and truth be told they’re simply a chaotic being who’s in way over their head. Despite being a villain, however, they are a big fan of Sonic and his friends, and they consider it a huge honor to be able to fight him. They’ve created an odd sort of parent-child bond between themselves and Robotnik, adopting him as their dad (he didn’t really get a say). Robotnik isn’t exactly doting but he does view them as his child in a sense, and often makes them new weapons to use alongside their Wispon (which they refuse to part with; he repairs it fro them as-needed). 

Vex the Cat/Fox Cross

Spotify playlist | Moodboard

Vex is a bigender aroace genetic experiment who most closely resembles a fusion of a fox and a cat. (Any pronouns are applicable to them, but I use she/her most, because I have a lot of “he” and “they” OCs already) She has lived roughly 17 years, the first 14 of which were spent in the facility that created them. Partway through what would have been the 15th year, a catastrophe occurred at the facility, giving Vex, Vitriol and Unknown a window to escape. During this process, Vex and Unknown became separated from Vitriol, escaping the facility and winding up on their own. They traveled in a world absolutely foreign to them for months, eventually, through a strange turn of events, joining a thieves’ guild in an attempt to forge new identities. They had great success as a thieving duo up until the unfortunate disappearance of Unknown, after which Vex abandoned the guild to search for them. Instead of Unknown, however, Vex ended up reconnecting with Vitriol in Central City, after which the two worked together to find Unknown, eventually finding their sibling in the Resistance. Since finding each other, the three have not been separated, and now form Team Motley.

Vex is generally regarded as the smartest of the trio, having a sharp wit and capacity both to plan ahead and think on their feet. Her Manipulation ability makes negotiations and covert ops very easy for them, with its one flaw being that it doesn’t work on others with similar abilities, such as Empathy. All three experiments possess low natural levels of Chaos Energy, below what is healthy, and their bodies cannot contain it well, so their abilities rely on the Energy around them, both in the environment and other people. Mobians often report “a strange sort of tiredness” after being Manipulated by Vex, as her power functions by draining a bit of Chaos Energy from the target and matching its wavelength.

Due to her affinity for making others do as she says, Vex is the leader of Team Motley, and, despite being the ‘middle child,’ the other two often go to her for advice. She is the organizational backbone to the team, a natural leader with a kind heart hidden behind a few layers of selfishness. Vex values family and friends above all else, and has a keen sense of right and wrong, even if she doesn’t always do what she knows to be right.

Vex is aware of her Manipulation ability, and does her best to curb its effects when she isn’t intending to use it, but given that it’s activated by her voice, sometimes she can’t control it very well. In addition to that, Vex is more than a little greedy; coming from a background where she didn’t even own her own life, Vex fell in love with her life in the thieves’ guild, mainly for the riches they earned and the thrill of the escape.

She’s a fan of loud, gaudy jewelry, luxurious metals, and other frivolous high-class things, though she doesn’t wear them in public. During their time in the thieves’ guild, Unknown and Vex lived in a network of caves, where many of the things they stole during their heyday are still hidden. While she misses those days, she doesn’t regret leaving them behind, and rather considers it an... option for future employment, once the Restoration is all said and done.

Despite her love of jewelry, Vex prefers not to wear clothes at all. They’ll wear their binder or a sports bra, and that’s about all; if necessary, they’ll wear baggy army-pattern pants or a baggy jacket. They don’t like the feeling of most fabrics on their fur, and don’t care a lot about fashion, but they tend towards more masculine clothing, often for its less-skin-tight properties. They also don’t mind skirts, but only wear them casually, as sometimes the extra fabric can get caught on things or be uncomfortable for them to sit on.

All three experiments tend towards more formal speech, but of the three, Vex has been trained out of that habit the most. She’s a real smooth-talker who adapts her speech patterns to mirror those of the person she’s talking to. When speaking casually, Vex is fairly neutral and doesn’t have any specific quirks to their speech pattern. When she’s comfortable around someone, she speaks in a rather husky voice, but not a very deep or gruff sound. It’s more of what would be described as “butch,” because their voice is closer to the stereotypically “feminine” sound than the stereotypically “masculine” sound.

Vex’s main phobia is having their mouth covered by something—anything from someone’s hands to fabric to a muzzle. This is because when her Manipulation was discovered by the scientists who created her, they immediately recognized it as a threat and she was kept muzzled for extended periods of time. The muzzle had supposedly been ‘humanely designed,’ but if at any point she frustrated her keepers, they were no strangers to shutting or covering the air-intake of it until she cooperated. Of the three, Vex has dealt with her trauma the least, and her sleeping pattern is just as broken as if not more broken than Toxic’s, and she tends to grind her teeth when she sleeps as well. She doesn’t speak of it much, but she and Vitriol have really bonded the most over their shared trauma. He is, essentially, the only person remaining who knows what they went through. 

Because they’re aroace, they have little concept of how flirting works other than when they’re using their Manipulation ability (which isn’t really calculated, more an instinctive knowledge that saying or doing certain things will achieve the effect they want). In other words, they’re extremely oblivious. The only thing they really care about is family, and they will do anything to protect them--when fighting they have no qualms about “fighting dirty” and will use anything to their advantage. Unusually, Vex has the ability to climb along walls quite easily using their claws, practically like a lizard. This combined with their night vision makes them quite formidable to fight in the dark. 

Vitriol the Ferret/Porcupine Cross

Spotify playlist | Moodboard

Vitriol is a gay cis guy who most closely resembles a fusion of a porcupine and a ferret. He has lived roughly 18 years, the first 15 of which spent in the facility that created him. During the calamity leading to his escape, Vitriol separated from Unknown and Vex in order to give them a chance to get out, taking on the officials sent to stop them. He ended up leaving via a different route, resulting in him coming into this world in a completely different place from Vex and Unknown. Vitriol spent the next half-year wandering across Spagonia’s countryside, often stopping to spend a night or two on a farm in exchange for helping its owners, who never questioned why a mysteriously-strong stranger would be wandering the wilderness. Many took him to be some kind of nature spirit, and treated him kindly; he realized through this little pilgrimage that he quite liked helping people out, though he never stayed more than a week in one place. Searching for his siblings was his main priority.

Eventually Vitriol came across a little town, the port of which was a dock for ferries to and from Central City (primarily used by high-end citygoers for transportation to their summer homes). He was told that Central City was a place many people lived and an even larger number of people visited; Vitriol resolved that, if Vex and Unknown were to wind up anywhere, it was likely a place like that--a place people are expected to wind up at. Not understanding the concept of having to pay for things, Vitriol snuck aboard, and managed to go undetected for the entirety of the trip by packing himself nicely into a tiny corner belowdecks. The night before the trip was to end, he snuck off the boat and swam to shore in Central City. Immediately enraptured by the city’s many brilliant lights, Vitriol decided to stay there and do his best to keep an eye out for his siblings.

He spent his first two weeks sleeping on the streets and wandering through the city, until one evening, allured by the glowing neon signs on the inside, he found himself inside a rather lively nightclub/bar. One thing led to another and Vitriol ended up breaking up a fight, catching the attention of the bar’s owner (who was, at the time, half of the staff, as well). Vitriol was offered the job of security officer, no questions asked, and, having begun to come to terms with the fact that money wasn’t just something that one town invented, Vitriol accepted. For the beginning of his ‘career’ he still lived on the streets, but eventually he saved up enough for a tiny postage-stamp of an apartment. It’s only enough space for him to just exist, but that was plenty of space for him. Over time he earned enough money to live comfortably—comfortably enough to get gauges and a septum piercing, both of which helped him in his line of work immensely (as most of his ‘security’ work was simply to look scary enough to keep people from misbehaving). 

Vitriol worked there for roughly the same amount of time that Vex and Unknown “worked” as thieves, and it was during this time that he met and started dating Rhys, moving in with him after roughly three months together. He only reunited with Vex upon happening to run into her when wandering the town one weekend night. The next day he quit his job and left to travel with her, searching for their last remaining sibling. Now that the three are reunited, Vitriol serves as the muscle of the team, doing all the heavy lifting and door-kicking necessary. While he vastly prefers sitting on the couch and watching TV with plentiful snacks nearby (preferably cookies), he’s not the type to shirk responsibilities. He’s just looking forward to going back to relaxing in Central City with Rhys when the Restoration is over (and, though he won’t admit it, he does miss when his only job was looking mean).

Vitriol doesn’t have a lot in his wardrobe. His usual staples are a crop top and leather pants, though he also wears skinny jeans and ripped t-shirts. Sometimes he wears pants without a shirt, and, overall, he doesn’t care a lot about fashion. He just picks up what he thinks is cool, which is usually a t-shirt or crop top with a few words on it (his favorites are “BORN FOR HELL” and “LIFE RUINER”). From there, he’ll often tear off the sleeves of the t-shirt, or cut holes and slits into the body of it. The only thing he always wears are the red fingerless gloves with lightweight chains dangling off the backs. 

He tends to mumble the most when he speaks, unless he’s angry or using his “Work Voice.” His “work voice” is the particular loud, gruff tone he takes that he picked up from his job; an intimidating deeper and more snarling version of his voice, often accompanied by a very stern or frightfully blank expression. This is made more intimidating by the fact that all 3 of the genetic experiment characters have a habit of needing to initiate conversation through eye contact, much in the same way that a small child might gently rest their hand on the arm of an adult whose attention they want, albeit much more unsettling. So often if one of the three wants to speak to someone, they’ll stare very intently at the person’s face until acknowledged (Vex has adapted the most of the three and therefore only does it to the other two and Rhys). When not using his “work voice,” Vitriol has a rough undertone to his voice, not necessarily a snarl so much as a growl. His voice is naturally deep, and lends itself well to singing his favorite music—rock music.

Vitriol often suffers night terrors and nightmares* linked to his trauma. When living alone, after waking from a nightmare, Vitriol would pace his apartment or wander around Central City to cool off, but after moving in with Rhys, he’s processing his trauma a bit more as opposed to just avoiding it. He hasn’t told Rhys much, just that he came from “a horrible place, where [he] was trapped,” and Rhys doesn’t pry; oftentimes it’s enough to just be reminded that he’s free for Vitriol to calm back down. 

Despite his prickly exterior (both literally and figuratively), Vitriol is much more cuddly than Rhys is. Perhaps it’s from being touch-starved in the facility for so long or perhaps it’s just part of his nature, but either way, Vitriol is no stranger to snuggling up against Rhys (most often) or his siblings (slightly less often as Vex is somewhat touch-averse). Rhys isn’t exactly annoyed by this, and often finds it endearing, but on occasion Vitriol has been known to act like a housecat--flopping down right in Rhys’s way to get his attention. He’s also a bit of a jokester, but only around Rhys and his family.

His deepest fear is of being helpless. He doesn’t tend to show much external emotion besides smiling at Rhys or his siblings, or glaring if he’s annoyed by something, but if he’s being dragged along the floor—especially if he’s being dragged by his underarms, as was his keepers’ favorite way of moving him from place to place—he will absolutely lose his mind in a panic. He also panics if cornered, lashing out with uncontrolled strength to get away, which usually doesn’t end well for his captors.

*Nightmares are your standard bad dreams that occur during REM sleep. Usually when waking from a nightmare, the person remembers what they were dreaming about. Often someone suffering from a nightmare will toss and turn, and maybe sleep-talk. Night terrors, however, are somewhere between dreaming and being awake; someone suffering a night terror might yell, thrash, kick or scream, or sit upright in bed with eyes wide open. They cannot, however, see or be woken from the night terror, and will flop back down anywhere from ten minutes to a half-hour after initial panic. They can often be confusing to the person suffering them, and only a vague recollection of what was going on remains when the person wakes up.

Unknown the Raccoon/Hedgehog Cross

Spotify playlist | Moodboard

Unknown is an agender bisexual polyamorous genetic experiment most resembling a fusion of a hedgehog and a raccoon. They have lived roughly 16 years, only four of which have been spent outside. When Vex and Unknown ended up on their own, Unknown took on a role of the silent intimidator between the two. Vex’s Manipulation came in handy most times, but when necessary, Unknown could provide some intimidation.

Unknown was a vastly different person then from who they are now. They were far more focused, and taught themself parkour, as well as having put themself through rigorous training to maintain a good physical health. They rarely spoke, and refused to give themself a new name, unlike Vex and Vitriol. They weren’t interested in the riches, though they did suffer from a bit of a hoarding impulse, enjoying the feeling of owning something. They didn’t care for jewels or finer things, unlike Vex; they were more participating for the adrenaline rush. At that point in time, they fully understood the brevity of their power, and it was imperative for them to keep a calm demeanor at all times; they were far less animated than they are now.

Then, about a year and a half after they’d escaped, Unknown abruptly went missing. A heist went sideways, the two became separated, and suddenly Vex couldn’t find them. A few months after that, Robotnik began taking over the world, and shortly after that, Unknown awoke in a dumpster somewhere in Park Avenue, with no memory of any life prior to that. They gathered all the information about themself from this police flyer:

From there, Unknown wandered the city amidst the chaos, confused and curious. Through that, they met Sonic when they helped him fight off a few robots. Impressed with their skills, he asked them to join the Resistance, which they cluelessly agreed to, definitely not because a cute boy was offering it to them. Unknown ended up being quite helpful to the Resistance, despite presumably having no Chaos Powers. They got along well with virtually everyone save for Omega and Vector, as they have a slight fear of people taller than them.

After being reunited with Vex and Vitriol, Unknown has stayed relatively close to them; the three are inseparable, traveling in a group for the Restoration. Shortly after the final battle, as the Resistance members were celebrating for the night, Unknown stumbled across Infinite while walking home. Unsure whether to turn him in or not, they decided to take him home and let him heal from his wounds first, then figure out who to turn him in to. In the end, after two weeks of Infinite recuperating (during which he revealed his name to be Zero), Unknown decided instead to keep Infinite in their home, unsure what would happen to him otherwise. For a short while, they didn’t tell anyone else, but once they told Vex and Vitriol, they were urged to tell the Resistance as well. It wasn’t taken well at first, but eventually the issue was settled—Unknown would take care of and reform Infinite, because having him close by and watched over is better than having him roam around unsupervised. Despite that, Unknown doesn’t treat Infinite like a child or prisoner but rather a friend. Currently, Infinite resides in the home Unknown was occupying during the Resistance, which was rather close to the site of the final battle.

Unknown’s usual ‘work clothes’ are a leather bodysuit of sorts with buckles similar to an airplane seatbelt’s buckles (and a hole for their tail) and combat boots as well as padded gloves that help absorb shocks), but in the past, they would wear a large cloak. It’s not clear where this went during their disappearance. In their free time, they prefer to wear clothes with deep v-necks to let their neck/chest fluff breathe, and they often wear ripped clothing like Vitriol. Unknown’s thick fur makes them more prone to overheating, but despite that, they enjoy running as a hobby and a way to stay fit. They often wear fitness clothes (a tank top and gym shorts) when they’re in an urban area, though if in the wilderness, they’ll just wear running shoes.

Typically, their voice has a bright and happy tone to it, all the time, and they’re very good at faking it when they’re actually not okay. Vex and Vitriol can usually pick up on when they’re lying, but most others can’t, something Unknown is actually very happy about. When it comes to negative feelings, Unknown is very secretive, but with positive feelings, they love to share—and overshare. (The only exception to their secrecy is anger; an angry Unknown is frightfully quiet and cold, and painfully obvious.) Oftentimes they don’t realize they’re oversharing, but Vex (or Sonic, if present) is more than willing to quickly interrupt and divert the conversation. Unknown tends to use overly-familiar language with just about everyone, especially words like “buddy” or “pal.” It’s unclear if they’ve picked this up from Sonic. 

They often suffer from night terrors, similar to Vitriol, but they claim it has no effect on them, as they don’t remember the trauma giving them nightmares. In the beginning, this was the truth; however, they refuse to open up to anyone, even their siblings, about what’s going on in their head. They’re well aware that they’re the most positive of the trio, and part of them doesn’t want to ruin that idea. Another thing they never tell anyone is that they often suffer from sleep paralysis*, wherein they often see strange things from their past, but existing still in the present. They don’t really know how to verbalize the experience to anyone else.

Unknown doesn’t have many fears, but they are downright petrified of needles and electricity—not in the sense where they’re scared of electronics, but they’re more frightened of visible electricity, like a fizzing outlet, lightning, or the Electric Wispons.

That being said, they do have a few insecurities, namely their sharp teeth. They’ve accidentally frightened people with them in the past, so when they first meet people nowadays, they try to smile with their mouth closed only. The anxiety dissipates eventually, as they’re more concerned about first impressions. 

*Sleep paralysis is an event where a person is mentally ‘there’ but unable to move or speak at all. It occurs when they are falling asleep or just waking up, and episodes usually last less than a few minutes, but can occur multiple times, not just once. It’s thought to be linked to a dysfunction in REM sleep, and is caused by sleep deprivation, psychological stress, or a poor sleep schedule.

Extra stuff:

Files from the experimentation: Basic knowledge on Vex, Vitriol and Unknown, as they would’ve been presented to their guards.

Scrap Brain Zone (writing from Toxic’s perspective)

Unknown meets Infinite (Comic) Part 1 | Part 2

Experiment origins (Flipnote) [old] (Flashing light warning)

Unknown waking up (writing from Unknown’s perspective) [old] 

OC Voiceclaims (video)

Chaos Vision (superemeralds’ idea) doodles | Click bold text to see his post on his blog.

Chips Ahoy (goofy non-canon animatic that im just really happy with)

Test animation for Toxic (Flicker warning)

Pride (doodles of 4/5 OCs for pride [toxic didn’t exist yet])

Moebius AU (Drawings with short description) | Moebius!Unknown video (Flash warning)

First Punch (Animated comic feat. @creative-sanic ‘s Aurora) | Still version

Rough concept writing - Toxic’s powers [will be removed when I decide on their abilities and how they get them in canon] (Writing)

Character Turn-Arounds (Comic/Animation ref) (Includes colour hex keys!)

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP: Chapter 14: It's All You've Got To Just Be Strong

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

Trigger Warning: There's going to be a scene near the end that'll receive an additional warning. Its start and end are marked for those who want to skip it.

AN: For those who haven’t noticed: I will post this story a bit later from now on, still every Friday, but more in the early evening, from my point of view, at least. However, last weeks chapter was much later due to organisational problems, and I feel like many people might have missed it. (Or it really was that horrible) So: I did post a chapter last week. If you haven’t read it yet, you might want to read it before this one ;)

I also want to use this opportunity to add a small explanation of the use of titles in this world as it probably varies greatly from how they were actually used. One addresses the King as (Your) Majesty, the Prince and Princess as (Your) Highness, a (Grand) Duke as (Your) Grace. Knights receive the title Sir upon their accolade. Every other nobleman/-woman, even the sons or daughters of high ranked noblemen, are addressed as Lord/Lady, or Milord/Milady. These titles can be used for those who also carry other titles, but it implies a certain familiarity that usually has to be specifically granted.

. o O o .

The memories that flooded her mind were overwhelmingly clear, like crystal.

Sunshine on a dusty plaza, cool shadows between the houses, and distant cheerful voices.

A man’s rough breathing behind her, his heavy body against her back.

A strong arm around her waist, hands on her breasts and over her mouth.

An unfamiliar voice whispering disgusting words in her ear.

Pain and helplessness.

It probably lasted only a heartbeat or three. But to Astrid, it felt like an eternity had passed before the hand digging into her arm was gone. It was replaced by a broad arm around her shoulders, one she wanted to fight off before she realised that it was Eret’s. Eret meant safety, he would protect her. The words he murmured into her ear didn’t make any sense, but his familiar voice was comforting nonetheless. Comforting enough to calm down her shallow panting breaths and to register her surroundings again.  

Dagur stood where he’d been before, a little to the side now as Eret had moved to her side and Daniel was firmly placed between her and Harold. The Berserker heir watched them with a confused expression, and Astrid tried to focus on him. On one of her brothers, on how funny he looked with one of his eyebrows raised and his mouth in that typical crooked line. Familiar. Safe.

“Hey, what’s this now?” rang Harold’s voice in her ear, scratchy and unpleasant.

“You don’t touch her,” Daniel said, the cold tone in his voice betraying his rage beneath.

“Wait, what? I didn’t... I just wanted to make her wait and ask her to bring a new glass for me too.”

Astrid pressed her lips and eyes shut, and forcefully pulled herself together. Nothing had happened. He hadn’t meant to harm her. She was just overreacting. Everything was fine.

She mustn't let Daniel see how much that simple touch had affected her.

“It’s all right,” she said, trying to sound light despite having problems to breathe normally. Brushing off Eret’s arm, she straightened her shoulders and made half a step around Daniel. “I’m fine. He just startled me, that’s all.”

Daniel threw her a scrutinising look that made her doubt he fully believed her, but then slowly nodded.

Putting in more effort, she turned toward Harold, a tight smile on her face, and said, “Why don’t you accompany me, Lord Harold? I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind some refreshments either, but I doubt I could carry so many glasses.”

“Eret can accompany you,” Daniel said determinately, and shared a look and a nod with the other man. “I need to talk to Dagur and Harold for a moment.”

Gently, Eret led her away, and she only caught a short glimpse at how Daniel positioned himself in front of the confused boy, arms crossed in front of him.

“He won’t harm the boy… right?” she asked shakily as they paused once they were out of sight behind a dividing screen. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t let her brother actually enforce that horrible law. He’d never done so before; the threat had always been enough. And she needed him to forget about it all, to trust in her mental strength and her judgement again. If he punished Harold now… that would only serve as a really bad precedent.

Eret gave her an estimating look before he carefully shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Even a rude and unpolished provincial like him deserves a warning first. Which is what he’s receiving right now. Don’t worry, I doubt he’ll get too close to you again.”

Covering up her hysteria as something like laughter, she turned to go and get hold of a servant to place an order. She really needed a drink. “I was worried for him. I’m fine,” she blatantly lied. “Really, he just surprised me, I simply didn’t expect…” She took a deep breath, and repeated, a little calmer, “I’m fine.”

But, clearly, Eret wasn’t buying it. “Right,” he snorted. “That’s why you’re shaking like a leaf.”

Astrid was incredibly glad as a serving girl approached them just then, as it saved her from answering. “Your Highness, Sir Jag’r, can I get you anything?”

“A glass of wine. But not watered down, please, and in a normal glass,” she emphasised, glancing at the smaller glasses most others around them carried around. She would need that to get a grip on her nerves.

Eret had one eyebrow raised as he glanced at her, but didn’t comment and turned toward the waiting serving girl instead. “And four beers,” he ordered, and added, “With water.”

The girl left them to get their orders, and Astrid looked around aimlessly to prevent Eret from raising the previous topic again. She couldn’t appear as if Harold touching her arm had frightened her, she simply couldn’t. So far, Eret didn’t seem to have said anything about Hiccup and that accident in the stables this afternoon. But who knew, seeing how much a simple touch like that just now had actually affected her could easily change his mind.

For Hiccup. She could be strong for Hiccup, could play her part. She had to. This was the best chance she could hope for to change Daniel’s mind.  

Suddenly, a hand landed on her shoulder, and she yelped as a painful jolt of shock shot through her. Momentarily panicking, she whirled around, moving away from the unexpected touch – but only to look into Daniel’s worried face.

“It’s just me,” he said softly.

“Yes, of course it’s you. Who else would it be?” The smile on her face felt weird, false, but it was the best she could manage.

Her brother exchanged a glance with Eret who shrugged and shook his head. “I warned him not to get too close to you again, so you don’t need to worry,” Daniel said in a calming tone. “But if you want to leave, then that’s all right. None of us can accompany you, but I can send for Timothy so you–”

“No, I’ll stay,” she interrupted him quickly. Odin forbids that she might flee now. That would only make things worse. “I told you already, I’m fine.”

Neither of the men looked convinced, but they didn’t object further.

A few minutes later, they returned to Dagur and Harold, drinks in hand from the serving girl. Dagur had an unusually stern expression on his face while the boy had his gaze on the ground, possibly intimidated.

As they got closer, Dagur gave Harold a nudge upon which he looked up, his resolute eyes meeting hers without a flicker of hesitation. “I’m sorry, Mi- Your Royal Highness,” he said, sounding more grudgingly than actually sorry. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

With more effort than she was used to, Astrid put on her mask of a pleasant smile. “No need for an apology,” she said, putting a light tone into her voice. “It was nothing but a misunderstanding, if even that. Let's not worry about it again.” She held out the one glass of beer she'd carried toward him, an obvious peace offer. He took it with an appreciative smile, as if he hadn't expected anything less. It made irritation churn inside her, but she quickly smothered the emotion. Instead, she called forth the memory of Hiccup kissing her knuckles this afternoon. It was a good memory that made her feel lighter and served to make the smile she gave Harold a few shades warmer.

. o O o .

Without a warning, the sound of glass shattering on the ground sounded through the room, and Astrid flinched. Everyone was turning in the direction of the noise so her reaction didn’t raise any suspicions. But deep down, Astrid knew it was different.

After the incident of Harold thoughtlessly reaching out for her was settled, their conversation had continued. Astrid had managed to not behave differently, but she was having a hard time concentrating. Usually unthreatening things kept triggering more flashbacks. A woman’s sudden loud bark of laughter. The slap of leather across skin as two young hotheads challenged each other to a duel to first blood. A certain perfume wafting to her nose. All those little things she'd thought she'd left behind now made her tense every time again, let her heart race and her breathing go faster. But she couldn’t let that show.

She barely paid attention to what her brothers were saying, and kept her focus on Harold instead, trying to listen to what he said so that she could answer or comment, in order to show that she wasn't afraid of him. Daniel and the others occasionally threw her puzzled looks, but she didn't react to them, couldn't react. If she let her concentration waver, she would lose it.

Harold, on the other hand, seemed delighted by the attention she paid him, and eagerly engaged her into a conversation whenever he got the chance.

“So,” he began as Daniel, Eret, and Dagur were occupied in a conversation with a Duke out of Lord Oswald's retinue. “Which fighting style do you prefer, Milady?” He'd stepped a little closer to talk privately, though not close enough to make her feel uncomfortable. Not really.

“Excuse me?” Astrid asked in return, distracted by keeping her heart from beating too fast. He was just trying to be friendly, dammit!

“Fighting,” he replied. “I once heard you are fond of marksmen, but forgive me if I say that I find that particular art of combat disdainful. It's how cowards fight, hiding and attacking from the distance.” He gave a humorous snort, and Astrid swallowed her answer.

As with so many, Harold apparently didn't believe the rumours about her and her skills with bow and arrow. He assumed that it was just a skill she admired in men. She was looking forward to putting him in his place herself during the next few days. The fact that she was able to shoot an apple off Daniel's head – and that he let her do so – always made quite an impression on the new recruits.

But instead of telling Harold off and alienating him now, she just cocked her head, encouraging him to speak on. Keeping up a friendly charade was easier when she didn’t need to keep her voice in check.

“I see you don't disagree,” he noticed condescendingly. “Well, it is commonly known that sword-fighting is the only true art, I guess. No hiding in the distance or on horseback, just you and your opponent, skill against skill.”

The smile on her face was genuine now, even though it wasn't for Harold himself but for his words. It were words many young idealists used – until they got hit by a padded arrow or toppled over by a pony in one of their training fights. Warfare was no gentle duelling, and Harold would learn that soon enough too.

She looked up as she suddenly noticed how quiet the boy had become and saw how he looked at her expectantly, obviously waiting for an answer. Odin help her, what had he said? “I agree,” she tried her luck, not wanting to admit that she hadn't hung to his every word. “And I'm sure your skills with the sword will prove to be outstanding.”

The words tasted foul on her tongue, not used to use unearned flattery at all. But it seemed to have been the right thing to say as Harold beamed at her and nodded eagerly. “I surely think so, and can't wait to see the astonished faces when a young countryman beats all the highborn lords in the arena.” He laughed as if he'd made a great joke, and Astrid managed to join in with a shaky chuckle.

Gods, being friendly to a poser like Harold was more difficult than she'd thought. But glancing at where Daniel threw her a concerned look, she felt as if she still needed to do better. With a slightly trembling hand, she reached for her wine glass where it stood on a table nearby, but Harold beat her to it. Their hands collided halfway and the unexpected contact made her freeze, a cold shiver running down her spine.

He reacted similarly, stopped mid-movement as his fingers met her silken glove. But instead of pulling back – as he should have done – he just glanced at her, weirdly unperturbed.

Astrid couldn't think, couldn't react as that subliminal fear threatened to bubble up inside her again. She didn't want him to touch her, not even indirectly like this through her silken gloves. In fact, she wanted nobody to touch her, nowhere.  

Nobody but Hiccup, which only further proved that he wasn’t just anyone to her.

She felt the urge to pull her hand back, to reprimand Harold for his forwardness, especially so soon after he’d been warned. But she was aware of the possibility that Daniel could be watching them, so she fought to hold still. Even managed a false smile to show to everyone who might be looking that she wasn't afraid. She couldn't be afraid…

She tensed further as Harold not just didn't pull away, but also let his hand linger, let his fingers glide along hers before he finally took her glass and held it out for her. The hand he’d touched felt too numb to react, so she took the glass with the other, nearly dropping it with how much the hand trembled. Why hadn't he pulled away? Why had he even lingered? Hadn't Daniel warned him not to touch her again? Was Harold so full of himself that he didn’t take his Prince’s warning seriously?

She took a big sip of the heavy wine and let it flood her mouth and her mind, let it soothe her nerves until she could function again. She dreaded to look up again, to see how he reacted to their contact, what he would comment. But to her utmost relief he didn’t react at all, wasn't even looking at her. Instead, his eyes were directed past her as if–

“Milady Astrid,” another voice drawled from behind her, and only with much effort did she manage to suppress a groan. She very much wished to forego this conversation. “You look exquisitely beautiful today if I may say so. This golden fabric really plays out your hair nicely. Although, it seems a bit unpatriotic, don’t you think? Isn't that the fabric Ketil Losnedahl bought from one of those Malarian traders a few weeks back? Someone could think you secretly support the enemy.”

With a stony expression, Astrid turned and fought hard not to show any emotions. “Duke Thuggory,” she cooly greeted him. “Thank you for the compliment. But no, I don't see supporting people who suffer from fighting as treason. We're not at war with civilians, after all. But please tell me, how did you last hunting trip go? Not as favourable as you’d hoped, I heard? Something about it being... ‘the horse’s fault’?” That was the official story, at least. But they’d heard it from Hiccup, who had it directly from Thuggory’s grooms. Thuggory had pushed his horse too fast during the opening leg of the hunt, and regardless of how much he spurred it, it hadn’t had the wind left to chase after the stag. It had gotten clean away, which had made Astrid’s day regardless.

The Duke of Meathead’s face darkened noticeably, but he didn't comment on her reminder of his latest failure. He did, however, step uncomfortably close and even though she would have liked to roughly push him back, she knew that her position forbid that. Instead, she made a hesitant step backwards, away from him. She couldn't really help it, even though Thuggory had never actually done something, not to her at least. But she knew that he'd earned the nickname ‘the Creep’ quite well. However, she realised too late that her retreat made her bump into Harold, and as his breath brushed over her neck, another spark of panic threatened to rise inside her.  

No, no, no, no, no!

Why hadn't she paid more attention? Why hadn't she been more careful? This was her fault, her own fault, all this, everything…

Taking a deep breath, Astrid fought for control and forced her mind to focus. One problem at a time. The boy behind her, as annoying as he might be, didn't mean her any harm. There was no reason to be afraid of him. She could ignore him for now and concentrate on the man in front of her instead.

Thuggory had watched her with dark glee in his eyes, but now let his eyes wander curiously toward Harold behind her. “And who would be your new companion?” he asked with a sly smirk, seizing up the boy.

“I'm Lord Harold of House Ravenledge,” he replied, nodding toward the duke. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Thuggory.”

There was cool amusement playing around Thuggory’s lips as he regarded Harold. “An interesting new friend you found there, Milady,” he said, not reacting to Harold’s words in the slightest. “I just hope he fares better than your last one. What happened to him, by the way? I can't remember seeing him again after the accolade a few weeks back. Did you get rid of him in secret to avoid attention? Let me warn you, young Lord Harold. Getting friendly with this lady can easily cost you your life.”

Astrid pressed her lips together to keep herself from throwing what went through her mind back at Thuggory. She wanted to deny his comment about how being her friend could be dangerous, no matter how right he might be. She wanted to assure Harold that Thuggory was exaggerating, simply to annoy the later as, right now, her sympathy was definitely with the former. And she wanted to tell Thuggory exactly where her other friend was, that his assumptions were so far off, it was ridiculous. But telling Thuggory would be an incredibly stupid thing to do. And she didn't even know where Hiccup was anyway...

In the end, she said nothing. She just glared at the young duke, trembling with suppressed anger and fear, feeling as if everything was crashing down on her today. It was all too much, and she wanted nothing more than to get away, to have a few minutes to herself, to calm down. No, what she really wanted was to know that Hiccup was safe, to feel his arms around her, his reassuring voice in her ear. But that was impossible right now...

Suddenly, there was a hand on her back, lightly resting there in a supportive gesture. Astrid's mind blanked out for a second, unable to react. A part of her wanted to spin around, to yell at Harold, to tell him off for touching her again. But she couldn’t show any weakness, especially not in front of Thuggory. And… if she was honest with herself, then it didn't feel that bad to have someone’s support right now.

“Thank you for your concern, Milord,” Harold said with the same self-confidence he'd shown all night. “But I know about this law already, so your warning is unnecessary. And now… if you would excuse us? The Lady and I have private matters to discuss.”

Astrid wasn't capable of feeling much anymore, else the surprise over Harold’s words would have made her turn toward him with at least a raised eyebrow. But instead, she stood still as a statue, more looking through Thuggory than at him.

The duke regarded them with a smirk, his eyes resting on Harold’s arm where it disappeared behind her back. “I see. Well, then don't let me disturb you.” He nodded in farewell and then retreated, the dark grin never leaving his face.

Once he was out of sight amidst the crowd, she exhaled in relief. She hated interacting with this man who hid behind his high rank, but whose actions couldn't by any measure be called noble. She was even grateful to Harold to an extent for his rude and inappropriate comment that had made Thuggory leave, even as she could still feel his hand on her back.

She was about to change that when he pulled his hand away on his own accord. At first, she thought he'd somehow guessed her thoughts or even understood how unwanted the contact was to her, but when she saw how someone else was coming their way, she wasn't so sure anymore.

“Astrid,” Daniel's voice sounded concerned as he stepped close enough that none of the uninvolved bystanders could overhear him. “I'm sorry, I saw him too late. Glad you already got rid of him though. What did Thuggory want?”

“Oh, just the usual. Making everyone uncomfortable,” she replied, but even to her own ears her lightness sounded forced. So, with more enthusiasm, she added, “But thanks to Lord Harold here, he left quickly.” She didn't add that she would probably hear comments and rumours about her new companion for a while now, but she'd given up on paying those any attention ages ago.

Daniel looked at the young man in astonishment, but then something like a small smile spread across his face. “Well, no need to worry then. I need to return to Father, but it looks like you're in good hands here. I guess I can trust you with looking out for her, Lord Harold?”

“Indeed you can, Milord,” Harold confirmed with a slight bow, chest visibly swelling with pride. “I will take good care of her.”

With a nod, Daniel left them again, and Astrid managed to keep her ever-calm facade, even though, for once, she more felt like rejoicing out loud. This was it, what she'd hoped for. Daniel acknowledging that not every man posed a threat to her, that she was fine even without his overprotective bearing. Her plan was working. If things kept going as she hoped, maybe she could even tell Daniel about her feelings for Hiccup before he left next week. Maybe then, they wouldn't need to hide all the time anymore, wouldn't need to fear getting caught.

It sounded too good to be true.

. o O o .

Astrid was euphoric.

Thoughts of her plan working, of her and Hiccup being together more openly, of him being able to court her publicly and properly, made it easy to keep an honest smile on her face, and not even Harold’s endless bragging was able to put her off. The reception would be over in another hour, she could easily endure him that long.

“Oh, I don't doubt that I could easily control one of House Jag’r’s famous stallions,” he said as their conversation turned back to horses after a while. “I mean, in the end, they are nothing but dumb animals. Whether or not they obey their master depends on how good they are trained, I say.”

Usually, a comment like this would at least annoy Astrid, if not actually make her angry. Horses, and especially the Jag’r-bred horses, were so much more than dumb animals. But tonight, not even that was able to darken her mood.

“So, you say whenever one of these high-strung war stallions bites or kicks someone he's not supposed to, it's the fault of his former trainer?” she asked, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Sir Eret won't be happy to hear that. He trains most of them himself, you see.” Calling her friend Sir felt weird, but she tried to make a point in using proper etiquette around Harold. He definitely had to get used to it if he wanted to survive among the higher noblemen.

A clearly visible blush spread across Harold’s face, which amused her even more. “No! No, that's... not what I meant,” he hastily corrected himself. His brows furrowed as he scrambled for a clarification, and Astrid had to raise her hand to her mouth to hide her grin. “What I meant is that these horses need a strong hand. They need to know who their master is, need to regularly get put in their place. Yes, that's what I meant.” He looked satisfied with how he'd gotten himself out of this.

Unable to keep her amusement hidden any longer, Astrid allowed herself to chuckle into her hand. If it wouldn't undoubtedly lead to Harold’s very painful death, she would have liked very much to see him try and put Chomp ‘in his place’.

Harold, who obviously didn't understand why she was laughing, smiled with relief. Then he leaned in closer, even conspiratorially placed a hand onto her shoulder, and said in a low voice, “You… won't tell Lord Eret what I said before, right? I don't want to make a bad impression. He might not be my direct superior, but he's still… important, I guess.”

Astrid had sucked in a surprised breath at the contact, but fought down the sense of discomfort quite effectively. This boy was too ridiculous to be taken seriously, no matter how uncomfortable his touch made her feel.

And she really ought to get over her pathetic fear!

Not for the first time, she mused how being around Hiccup was so much easier… His presence or touches didn't scare her, and never had. He was special in so many ways that she hadn't even thought about why this law existed anymore. But this… This here, right now, this was good. It was progress. Not just convincing Daniel but actually getting over her fears. The right way.

Instead of tearing her arm away from him and stepping away like she wanted to, Astrid forcefully held still and looked up at Harold. “I won't tell him,” she reassured him, intending to actually keep that promise to not make Harold’s life unnecessarily harder.

Harold returned her smile, then emptied his beer with a big gulp. Glancing at the glass in his hand, he said, “I'm really glad you serve our southern brew here, even though I'd gladly forego the water in it. Anyway, I think I'd like to get another one. Would you mind accompanying me?”

Astrid hesitated, glancing at where Daniel, Eret, and Dagur stood talking to a small group of southern noblemen, but then shrugged and nodded. “Sure, why not?” she agreed, and turned to lead the way to the slightly separated part of the room where servants hustled about to take orders.

But they didn't make it there.

Once they were out of sight from the gathered crowd, Astrid suddenly felt a pair of arms around her waist, a hard chest against her back, and for the second time tonight, her mind went utterly blank.

Some small voice in her mind was screaming at her for being so stupid, was telling her to fight, to struggle free. Daniel had been through this so many times with her, elbow back into the man's chest, her fist into his nose or groin. He'd made her practise uncountable times – on him no less – until she knew exactly what to do. But right now, she remembered none of that.

She stood frozen in shock as the arms around her tightened, restraining her arms and movability, and damp lips touched her neck. “Finally,” Harold murmured against her skin. He ran his nose up and down her neck, almost lovingly. The sensation made her sick.

“Let go of me…” she managed to get out, voice thin and barely more than a whisper. Her head was spinning as she tried to make sense of this change in behaviour. He'd been rash, yes, but this?

“Let go of you?” he chuckled, nuzzling into her neck. “You don't really want me to do that, do you? No, of course not. I admit, when I came here in the hope of making a fortunate catch, I hadn't expected that the princess would be interested in me. But here you are, unable to take your eyes off me, and I surely don't mind. You're pretty enough I suppose, despite all that silly fabric. And your father's money will easily rebuild our former glory.”

Astrid gasped in surprise as his words sank in. Had she unintentionally flirted with him? Had she encouraged this? “No,” she tried to reason, struggling against his hold. She had to end this before anyone noticed. “No, I didn't mean… I'm sorry, Harold, I don't… please let me go, let me explain, I–"

“‘I didn't mean it?’’” he interrupted her, laughing quietly. “Oh, how often have I heard those words… But I don't believe you. You want this just as much as I do, don't deny it. You've been quite obvious, Your Highness.”

Nausea rose inside her as she felt him behind her even through her skirts, pressing his groin hard against her rear. She wanted to scream, but smothered the urge before she ruined everything. If she screamed now, if people found them like this, then her plan would be ruined. This was just a misunderstanding, just her own stupidity. She just had to set this right.

For Hiccup.

“Harold, please stop,” she whispered urgently. “Please, this is a misunderstanding. I’m sorry, I didn't mean to fool you. Let me go. Let me explain.”

But he didn’t listen. Instead, he was moving closer, his body grinding against hers, his sickening groan rumbling through them both – his hand groping and squeezing her breast painfully.

“LET GO OF ME!” she yelled, panic finally taking over completely. There were no reasonable thoughts left in her mind, no sticking to her plan, or he had just misunderstood her. She didn't want him to touch her, and there was no space in her head for any other thought.

Astrid didn't know what happened then. In one moment, his hand had been rough on her breast, and in the next, he was gone and she found herself kneeling on the floor, hyperventilating. Suddenly there were so many people around them, too many for her to make sense of anything. There were voices, so many voices all talking at once, some people crouching down beside her, helping her up – it was all just chaos.

And then there was Daniel.

He was furious.

“... that’s how you interpret ‘looking out for her’? I trusted you!”

Astrid could only see her brother's back as he faced Harold, but she could imagine how he looked, fuming and eyes blazing. Remembered it all too well.

This couldn't be happening.

With her head still spinning, she stumbled forward toward her brother. She had to stop this, before–

“Your Highness, please. I'm begging you,” sounded another voice through the noise. An elderly man stood by Harold’s side, one Astrid recognised only vaguely. His father, of course. “He's just a boy, foolish and inexperienced. He didn't think–"

Daniel cut him off with a curt gesture of his hand. “That's why I'll take his hand and not his life. May this serve as a reminder that–"

“No, please,” Astrid begged upon finally reaching the men. “Don't do it, Daniel, please!”

Her brother gave her a confused look, momentarily distracted, so she went on as long as she had the chance. “It was nothing, just a misunderstanding. He was just misinterpreting… it was my fault, really. Please don't punish him, please, I'm begging you.” She mustn't let this boy suffer for her foolishness. And she couldn’t let Daniel enforce his law. She couldn’t!

For an endless moment, everyone was quiet. Everyone was watching the scene, the Crown Prince and the Princess Royal, the old Count and his son. Everyone was waiting for the Prince's next words.

But for this moment, they weren't the royal siblings everyone else saw. For this moment they were just Daniel and Astrid, just brother and sister. And, for once in their lives, her brother listened.

He gave her a long scrutinizing look – and then nodded. “All right,” he said quietly before he announced, loud and clear, for everyone to hear. “As requested by the Princess Astrid herself I will overlook this… accident. But know that I'll be watching you. And if you so much as stumble into the wrong direction, that verdict can be changed in an instant. Is that clear?”

Harold didn't answer, didn't so much as twitch and only glared angrily. His father, however, reacted quicker, bowed deeply and urgently pushed his son backwards and away. “Of course, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness,” he murmured again and again.

When they were almost out of earshot, Daniel turned toward Dagur who stood next to him, and said in an emotionless voice, “I suggest you pick another squire.”

. o O o .

Astrid stood in a small curtained alcove and forced herself not to think about what happened earlier. Instead, she gazed through the large windows out into the night, at the waterline between Lake Vola and the grassy hills around, illuminated by faint starlight. It was beautiful. Familiar. Calming.

And somewhere out there was Hiccup, hopefully peacefully asleep and safe. Slowly, she raised her hand to brush over that spot on her chest. It had become such a routine gesture during the past weeks, something she did when she missed him, when she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, but couldn’t. It was soothing to feel this warm spark of his soul inside her, something to hold on to. But, oh, what would she give if he could be here for real… What would she give to feel the wiry strength of his arms around her waist, his soft lips on her neck. His warmth surrounding her, his reassuring presence.

Behind the curtains that separated this small alcove from the rest of the room, the reception was slowly coming to an end, her father and the Grand Dukes seeing their noble guests off. But she didn’t pay it any attention anymore. Everyone thought she’d needed time to calm a bit, and to an extent that was true. Harold’s assault had torn at wounds she’d thought were healed by now, and having a few quiet minutes to get a grip on herself surely helped. But that wasn’t the only reason why she’d retreated in here, not even the main reason.

No, the main reason was that she didn’t want to be reminded of how spectacular her plan had failed. How stupid she’d been that she’d unintentionally fooled Harold into believing she was interested in him. And how, after Harold’s brash move on her and her rash and utterly stupid reaction, Daniel would be even more adamant about his law now.

Her eyes began to sting and she pressed them close, fighting down the tears that threatened to well up. No, she didn’t want to think about that anymore. All she wanted was for this gathering to end, to return to her chambers, to sleep, and to forget. And tomorrow, she and Hiccup would need to figure out how to be more careful, because talking to Daniel had moved beyond reach.

Successful in her efforts to ignore everything around her, Astrid didn’t notice the rustling of the curtain behind her, nor the steps on the carpeted stone floor. She knew that her brothers would be keeping watch outside, that they wouldn’t let anyone past them. So when suddenly someone was behind her, every reaction came too late.

****************************************************

Trigger Warning: Explicit Attempt of Non-Con/Rape

If you want to skip this part, you can keep reading after the next break.

****************************************************

Before she knew what was happening there were hands on her back, pushing her up against the wall, and it was all she could do to lift her hands to not hit it face-first. A heartbeat later, a rough hand covered her mouth, smothering the scream that was building, and a heavy body pressed against her back, keeping her from moving even one inch.

“All this is your fault,” Harold snarled into her ear, his hot breath sticking to her skin. “I lost everything, and for what? Just because you don’t know your place, you devious slut. But you’ll pay, oh, yes, you will. You owe me, and now I’ll take my payment.”

At first, Astrid was too stunned to react. Everything happened too fast for her mind to process, her heart skipping a painful beat at the unexpected assault. But when his free hand glided up her body to land on her breast once more, she fought back on reflex. Shrieking into his hand in the hope someone might hear her, she did whatever she could think of, struggled and writhed, using the wall as leverage to throw him off.

Not again!

But she’d misjudged his strength. With an annoyed growl, Harold hurled her around and pushed her back, and with a dull thud! her head hit the wall, hard. For a horrible moment, all she could see were stars exploding behind her eyes. “Stop fighting,” sounded his angry voice into her dazed mind. “You’re only dragging it out.”

Astrid, however, had no intention of stopping fighting him. Once more she used the wall to blindly push herself forward, to knock him over or simply to hurry past him – but froze with a choked gasp as something tightened around her neck. Instead of using every second to fend off her attacker, her hands flew up to her neck. There was thick and embroidered fabric beneath her fingers – the curtain?

With seemingly practised swiftness, Harold caught her hands as she tried to pull her neck free. His grip was strong, bruising, and the next thing she knew was that her wrists were effectively tied to her waist as he wrapped the heavy fabric around her.

“Now don’t you look lovely all tied up,” he snarled, his face only inches away from her. She made attempts to yell, at him or for help she didn’t even know, but he pushed her to the side and whatever sound she would have made got cut off as the noose-like loop of fabric around her neck tightened. “Yes, choke on your etiquette,” he grinned darkly. “So much expensive fabric, and for what?”

He retreated a little, staying close enough to keep her in place and strangled, but still far enough to reach for the collar of her dress. With one quick jerk, he tore it open, all the way across her breasts and almost down to her stomach.

Astrid stared in shock, eyes wide and chest heaving as cool air hit uncovered skin. This wasn’t happening… This couldn’t be happening!

Oh, Frigga, please…

Once more, she struggled in her hold, but the curtain around her waist wouldn’t budge. All she managed was for the loop to further tighten around her neck with every movement. She could barely breathe anymore.

Harold, not paying her fight for air any mind, scrutinised her with a menacing sneer. “Now, look at your unblemished porcelain skin, all soft and white. I do wonder though, how many men have you showed these?” He worked one hand between the torn fabric, and she couldn’t help the desperate whimper that escaped her when his calloused hand groped untouched skin. “I’m not your first, am I? No, surely not, with what kind of corrupt and frivolous noblemen you’ve become. Too bad really, I’d love to believe in your... innocence. But I guess you’re just playing dumb, just like you did before. But you can’t fool me, no. You want this, want a real man to put you into your place, right? You need that.” He squeezed her breast once more, edging toward painful before he pulled his hand back, brushing her torn bodice open for him to ogle her. Judging by his appraising grin, he liked what he saw. It made Astrid sick.

“G-get away from m-me,” she croaked, the loudest sound she could manage. Her knees were trembling, with rage but also with fear. With only a few motions this apparently silly boy had rendered her helpless, unable to move and with her vision swimming with lack of air. If he only pushed her a bit more to the side or if her legs gave way beneath her, if that noose around her neck tightened a little further…

Harold cackled. “No, I don’t think so. We’re only getting started.” While he spoke his hands wandered down toward her wide skirts to hike them up. Panicking, she put all her strength into struggling free, into fighting him off, but he was stronger than he looked. More and more cloth gathered around her waist until his hand reached between her legs, roughly groping her. “Mmhh, yes. That’s where you want me, right?”

He audibly loosened his belt, and Astrid made another desperate attempt to get away, struggling against him and shrieking as loud as her tight throat allowed. “Oh, you’re so eager, squirming into my hand. Yes, that’s it. Just a moment, and–”

****************************************************

Safe to keep reading

****************************************************

But Harold didn’t get the chance to continue. Behind him, the curtain to the alcove flew open and Daniel burst through, followed by Eret and Dagur. All three men wore equally furious expressions on their faces, but in opposition to her adopted brothers, Daniel’s face turned into a cold mask once he’d taken in the situation.

“I warned you,” he said cooly, eyes drilling into Harold’s as Eret and Dagur slipped past him to free her. “I warned you twice even. I’ve been lenient, thoughtful of your situation. But now it’s enough.” He grabbed the lanky man by the arm and, entirely the warrior he had become, hurled the boy away from her and out of the alcove. There was a gasp outside as he hit the ground with a thud.

Through the opening and past Eret’s comforting form, Astrid could see the crowd that had formed outside, drawn by the commotion no doubt. But Daniel didn’t pay them any attention.

“Guards!” he yelled above their heads. “Get this man into the dungeon.”

“But it’s her fault!” waved Harold’s voice toward her, sounding terrified. “She did that on purpose, that bitch lured me in. She wanted it, she–”

Harold got cut off by Daniel’s fist in his face. Dazed, he stared at the Prince as guards dragged him away, sputtering unconnected comments like “That bitch,” and “She wanted it.”

“And send for the Fyrirs Gothi and Alvin. I’ll need their services in the morning,” Daniel called after them with cold determination, and Astrid realised... This wasn’t her brother anymore. This was Prince Daniel the Strong – and he had justice to dispense.

Astrid watched the whole scene in a trance, numbed by shock. She was glad to have Eret and Dagur kneeling on either side of her, not sure whether she would have been able to keep herself upright otherwise. Weirdly detached, she watched as Daniel shook out his hand, noticed his split knuckles, saw how he exchanged a look with their father who gave him a stern but approving nod. She saw how Harold got dragged out of the hall, but could neither hear his screams nor his father’s pleas anymore.

All this was her fault.

Clutching at her torn dress, she let Eret place one arm around her waist to support her trembling legs. He helped her up and guided her to a chair in a quiet corner, with Dagur right behind them shielding her from any concerned comments

“I’m so sorry,” he stammered once she’d sat down. His tanned face was pale, nearly ashen grey. “I shouldn’t have…  Gods, I’m so sorry, little sis. This is all my fault, I never should have brought him here. I’d heard rumours about Harold’s behaviour, but I didn’t believe… Thor, but if only part of those are true, then he deserves every punishment.”

A shudder ran through her as once more the memories of the last spring festival resurfaced in her mind. A just punishment. Shaking her head to chase the image away, she looked up at Dagur’s anxious face and forced a small smile on her lips.

“It’s okay, Dagur. You’re not to blame,” she whispered weakly. No, the only one to blame was she herself. If she hadn’t tried to be friendly, hadn’t tried to deter suspicions from Hiccup by treating Harold the same, if she hadn’t tried to convince Daniel not to punish him right away – none of this would have happened!

“Astrid!”

Before she knew what had happened, Astrid found herself in Daniel’s arms. Weird. She hadn’t even noticed how he’d approached. Reflexively, she clutched him closer, her safe haven, her big brother. The one who had always taken care of her. The one she was lying to every day. Silent tears ran down her cheeks, soaking his shirt, as the tension gave way inside her. For a few minutes, she allowed herself to be weak, to let her brothers take care of her, before she straightened up again.

“It’s okay,” she said with a smile that convinced nobody. “I’m okay.” She wasn’t and they all knew it.

But Daniel nodded, squeezed her hand, and then stood up. “I need to… deal with this situation,” he said solemnly as he took off his jacket and laid it around her shoulders, covering her. Then he turned to Dagur. “And I need you to come with me. You and your father need to be there as witnesses. Eret, can you see Astrid to her chambers and meet us then?”

Eret nodded. “Certainly.”

“I don’t need to watch again?” Astrid asked in a small voice, looking up at the men standing around her. She didn’t allow herself to show relief. Harold was going to die and it was her fault. It was horrible. But not being made to watch again – she felt relief, and that only made it worse.

Daniel, however, gave her a pained look. “We’ll see...” he said quietly. “Nothing will happen until the morning.” Then he nodded to Dagur and both men turned to leave.  

As she followed them with her eyes, Astrid noticed that the room had become empty during the last minutes. All the guests were gone as were her father and the Grand Dukes. Aside from her and Eret, only a few servants were bustling about, cleaning up what was left of the party.

“Can you walk?” Eret asked softly, crouching down next to her chair. “Or do you want to rest a bit longer?”

Astrid swallowed, thinking for a moment, but then nodded. “I can walk… I only want to get away from here.” She let Eret help her up and lead her away. They didn’t talk on their way, and she was grateful for the silence. She wasn’t sure whether she could have stood idle small talk right now, and anything meaningful would have been too much.

She hadn’t noticed, but apparently, Eret had been deep in thoughts as well. Right before they reached the corridor that led to her chambers, he paused at a corner, making her stop too.

“Astrid,” he began, and she perked up at him using her actual name. Eret never did that. “I… I don’t know how to say this, but… Hel, I thought this law was just to scare people off! I hadn’t thought he was serious, that he would actually…” he trailed off, shaking his head. Astrid wasn’t sure what to say to this, but before she could answer, Eret already continued. “I… want to thank you. For… for not calling Hiccup out today. You know, for his carelessness. I thought it was funny how scared you looked, but… but I never actually considered what could happen. I want to believe that Daniel wouldn’t harm him, that this just now was… different. But...”

“Don’t worry,” Astrid replied in a monotone voice as he trailed off. “I never wanted Daniel to enforce this stupid law, and certainly not on… a friend.” She’d wanted to say ‘Hiccup’, but caught herself in the last moment. Speaking his name right now would be too much. She couldn’t even let herself think of him right now, or she would lose control.

She walked the last few strides to her door where Eret bid her goodnight when he saw that Timothy was already waiting for her. Obviously, he and his sister had already gotten message about what had happened as they bustled about without asking her a single question. Good, so she wouldn’t need to explain anything.

Mutely, she let the twins get her out of the torn dress and put her in her nightgown. She let Rachel brush out her plait and mechanically braided her hair into her simple night-brait to keep it from entangling too much. It seemed to take hours, but at the same time, she barely noticed the passing of time. Everything was a blur.

She didn’t let herself think about Hiccup, not until she finally lay alone in her bed. Then she let the tears run freely, let the sobs tear at her. So easily it could be Hiccup getting executed in the morning. If Daniel ever found out…  At least Eret wouldn’t say anything about what he’d seen, which was a relief.

But she had to talk to Hiccup!

She had to tell him, to make him understand that he had to be more careful. Daniel mustn’t notice anything… ever!

Eventually, after many long hours, her tears ran out and she fell into a fitful sleep.

. o O o .

So, erm... Who wanted to see Harold dead? :|

Anyway... still no Hiccup here. We'll get back to him, I promise.

(In the previous chapter, I forgot to also ask your opinion on Dagur. I could do so now, simply to lighten the mood... but I'm not sure that's such a good idea right now... Just kidding. Of course I want to know! )

In addition: A fair warning: Next weeks chapter will be a short one.

Next Chapter

[hysterialevi]

Where the Demons Sleep pt. 5 (Cobblebats)

From Bruce’s POV

WAYNE MANOR

“I want him dead, Brannigan,” I repeated, irritated at the man’s persistence. “I won’t say it again.”

Albert paused for a moment, clearly hesitant to go along with my plan. I could hear him clearing his throat.

“With all due respect, sir, Aiden could be of use to us. His sister, Vivienne, fought valiantly against William, and now she’s dead. Most-likely, the boy wants vengeance now. We can take advantage of that.”

I shook my head. “Aiden is brash and reckless. His plans are careless, and he acts without thinking. How else do you think William was able to capture him so easily? I won’t put our mission at risk simply because you took sympathy on some useless boy. We can’t give him the chance to go after William on his own. William is going to die -- but it’ll be by our hand. Understood?”

Albert’s tone sank with disapproval. “...Understood.”

I straightened my tie and hovered a finger over the “end call” button, standing up from my desk’s chair.

“Good. Now, go on and find someone to do the job. We can’t let anyone trace this back to us. Oh, and once they’re finished -- kill them. Loose ends, and all that. I’m sure you know the drill by now.”

Brannigan didn’t protest any further. “...Of course, sir. I will ensure this gets done quickly and cleanly.”

I glared at the open space in front of me as if I were face-to-face with Albert. “Yes, you will. Oh, and one more thing, Brannigan...”

He froze. “Sir?”

“If I find out that you tried to save Aiden behind my back, just remember: you aren’t the only connection I have in England. If I wanted, everything you own, everything you’ve touched -- it could all be mine before sundown. I don’t spare traitors, and you are certainly no exception. So save us all the trouble, and make sure it doesn’t come to that, yeah?”

He gulped out of nervousness. “I assure you, Mister Wayne, it will never come to that.”

I chuckled softly. “Let’s be realistic, shall we.” 

I let out a breath. “Anyways, you should get to work. If you need anymore info on Aiden, contact me. In the meantime, just make sure he drops dead.”

I could practically hear him nodding out of obedience. “Consider it done.”

“I’ll speak with you later, Brannigan.” 

Ending the call without another word, I allowed myself to enjoy a few seconds of silence as Brannigan carried out my orders on the other side of the world, escorting yet another soul across the River Styx. It was strange, sometimes, to think about how much I was impacting peoples’ lives when I rarely ever got to see the results in person. There was so much violence, so much backstabbing going on in England because of me, and yet, I was barely affected by it. Physically, at least.

Casually pacing around the office, I found myself staring at a family portrait of me and my parents, causing a wave of flashbacks to surge through my head. Even though it had been nearly two decades since the both of them were murdered, I could still hear my father’s voice scolding me everyday, telling me how I needed to be stronger. 

As a child, nothing I did ever seemed to please him. It was always too much, or too little, but never perfectly in between. Even when I defended Oz against the other kids who used to bully him, my father wasn’t impressed at all. In his eyes, I was just a scrawny, weak boy desperately trying to fill his father’s shoes -- and failing. 

In the beginning, I never understood why it was so hard to satisfy him. I used to think I was one of the toughest kids in the neighborhood -- what with how I defended my friends, and all -- and the fact that my father couldn’t see it only frustrated me more and more. I was fighting off bullies, punching them left and right, protecting those who were close to me, and still...my father called me weak. What more did he want?

Though, on the night of his death, I finally saw what he meant.

Staring back at the barrel of the gun that just murdered my parents, and preparing myself for what were almost my final moments...I had never felt more powerless in my life. Everything about the world I knew had been flipped around all because of a single man, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was the first time I ever experienced true, genuine fear, and that was the day when I realized what my father meant by “strength.”

He was never talking about physical endurance, or the ability to knock someone’s teeth out. To him, true strength meant growing a will of steel, and being able to greet death as an equal.

To me though, that was simply everyday life.

Sharing a throne with Hill, Brannigan, William, and Falcone was about as exhausting as one could imagine, and if I didn’t act quickly, there was no guarantee I would still have a portion of the power in the future. My best chance right now was to turn them against each other, and hopefully, eliminate them one by one, leaving room for no one else but me. A task much easier said than done, but nonetheless, still doable.

Before I could think on the matter anymore however, a friendly voice suddenly spoke from behind me, tearing my attention away from the family portrait. It was Alfred.

“There you are,” he greeted with a smile. “I thought I might find you here. You’ve been working tirelessly these past few days -- locked up in this office. I figured you could use some fresh, hot tea to relax. All is well, I hope?”

I quickly returned the smile, taking one of the warm cups into my hand. “Yeah. Thanks, Al. I just finished talking with Regina about some business. Things have been busy in Wayne Enterprises, but nothing we can’t handle.”

The butler beamed with relief. “That’s good to hear, Bruce. For a moment, I was afraid you might be overwhelmed. Clearly though, you’re much stronger than I thought.”

I let out a fake chuckle, trying my best to act normal as I took a sip. “...you have no idea.”

Placing the tray of tea down, Alfred adjusted his glasses and walked up to me, his eyes landing on the family portrait as he let out a nostalgic sigh.

“Are you...all right, Bruce?” He asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but I happened to catch you viewing this painting rather intently mere moments ago...which is understandable. We all reminisce every once in a while. Memories can often provide company in the absence of people. Though, in your case, I’m not sure if those memories are exactly...desirable.”

I glanced up at my father’s face, his stone-cold expression almost immediately swatting my gaze away. I took another sip of the tea.

“I was just wondering if...if Dad would be proud of who I am today. You know how he used to berate me when I was a child. I was always too weak, or too timid -- never the capable, hardy son he wanted.” I stared blankly at teacup in my hand, my reflection looking back at me. “Do you...do you think he’d still see me in the same way now?”

Alfred scoffed, though not in a mocking manner. 

“Why, of course not, Bruce. You’ve become quite the formidable, adamant young man. Hardly anything shakes you.” He folded his hands behind his back. “I...understand that Thomas may have been difficult to please, and his standards were always rather high, but I’ve no doubts he’d be proud of you now. I know I certainly am.”

You wouldn’t be if you knew who I really was, I thought to myself. On the outside though, I simply accepted the praise.

“Thanks, Al.” I said, finishing the remains of my tea. “That means a lot.”

I placed the empty cup back on the tray. “Well, I’ve had my break for the day. I should get back to work. I’ve got many things to attend to, and even less time.”

Alfred nodded. “Then I shall let you go. Just...try not to strain yourself too much, yes? For an old man’s sake.”

I chuckled. “Which old man are you referring to?”

Just then, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, bringing our conversation to a pause. I briefly checked the device.

Carmine: Need to talk. Now.

Carmine: It’s about Ham.

Carmine: Meet me at the cafe. 

Carmine: Make sure no one follows you.

I brought my attention back to Alfred. “And there’s my queue.”

“Is everything all right?” He checked, noticing the concerned look on my face. I hurried out of the office, hoping to avoid further questioning from him.

“Yeah, yeah. Something’s just come up at Wayne Tower, and I need to go sort it out. I’ll see you later, Al.”

“Very well,” he said, taking the tray into his hands. I could tell he was just a tad suspicious of my abrupt exit. “Good luck, sir. If you ever require my assistance, you know where to find me.”

I replied to him in my head.

If I ever require assistance, you’ll be the last person I drag into this goddamn mess. 

That was what Hill and Falcone were for, and I intended to keep it that way. They were “friends” of mine, sure, but neither of them could even compare to Alfred’s companionship. They were easily expendable, and they weren’t the only crime bosses in this city. If the situation ever presented itself, I had no doubts I’d be able to find sufficient replacements for both of them. 

Alfred, on the other hand...he was the treasure in a tomb of traps. There wasn’t a single person in Gotham who could follow in his footsteps, and if anyone even dared to touch him, there’d be hell to pay. 

He was the only true family I had left, and I was willing to do anything to keep him safe...even if that meant locking away my deepest secrets from him. Knowing too much information was the reason my parents were murdered, and I had no plans on sacrificing Alfred to the same fate.

[cosmosfated]

THE ALLURE OF LIFE / ohi-di’le & hu’ka-li

The people who are labeled Ohi-di’le and Hu’ka-li are people who are constantly stuck in a state not unlike what was observed in the ‘experiment’ Everett conceptualized. In this world, that idea was actually spurred when an Ohi-di’le had tried to explain their status of existence in the world around them: that is to say, both dead and alive while being neither and only one of the two at any given moment.  It was a difficult thing, explaining an existence that wasn’t so much born or created rather than simply... already being. The most difficult thing to explain, however, would most definitely be their unique gift of being able to see people’s life forces. Their happy mistake of the Hu’ka-li also have the gift of being able to see people’s magic without them using it.

Ohi-di’le can see the life forces of people around them, no matter what they may be, which is a gift they passed down to Hu’ka-li (a gift that tends to be a factor in drawing the poor dears far past maddened). The life forces of people vary, and look much like patchwork quilts of various colors, with various levels of luminescence and distinctive traits to them. A normal human being is never normal to them, there is always a weaving patchwork of history and heritage and possible futures in their life force. Your average non-magic wielding human will hold a soft beige in patches, with different colors to represent past family mishaps with magic that led to no magic or that led to magic being so restrained that it got choked out, what their heart represents, what their spirit’s destination could be. Your average Monster will hold a soft white in patches with various colors to represent where their parents came from, what their magic may develop into and what their parents supplied, what their soul could be and what it is. Your average Divine will hold a soft orange-tinted silver in patches, with a couple other colors to show what they reign over and how much sway they hold over the world. 

When it comes to Hu-ka’li and sensing magic, it’s much the same premise, except with fewer colors. The stronger a Hu-ka’li gets, the more likely it is that they’ll develop a favored type of magic to be around. This is why they often would stick around witches, warlocks, liches, and other highly magical entities. Sensing magic is only part of that ability that their creators have, even though it certainly isn’t any more fun. Magic is something that connects to one’s soul and spirit, even if they never use it or never know that they have it or even if they outright hate that it’s there. It’s a part of them, a part of everything, and Hu-ka’li can sense and see this type of life force, as it would still be considered one’s life force. If one of these people get strong enough and remain in control of themselves for long enough through their lives, they can “activate” the trait in them to view the life forces of the world around them. This trait is usually what causes any Hu-ka’li that was previously doing extremely well in their lives to suddenly snap and lose their sanity, as it is not a smooth transition in the slightest. It’s the metaphysical equivalent to being conked upside the head with a frying pan that isn’t even cooled off yet. It’s painful, it’s frightening. All Hu-ka’li who suffer through this and get through it undoubtedly are cursed with a hunger that will never be sated but instead to be controlled.

Everything and everyone in the world has its own special light that separates it from the rest of those around them. It’s a kaleidoscope and a patchwork quilt that is specific to the person being examined. It’s beautiful and stunning and amazing to look at. It puts the whole world in a new perspective, allows you to view the world in a new way and see what makes everyone what they are. “Lighter” magics may appear darker than one would assume based on who is using it, and “darker” magics may appear lighter than one would assume based on how it’s being used. “Higher” magics may feel more grounded and certain, “lower” magics may feel more airy and unsteady. They can tell when magic doesn’t want to be used but can’t fight against it, when it’s angry, when it’s scared, when it has died long ago and is an amalgamation of death and decay and negative Intent. Most people would hear about this and believe it to be an extraordinary gift from something above it all that gave it specifically to these people.

Though, both types of people would argue that it’s a curse.

See, there’s a drawback to this ability, a really big drawback in fact. One that would scare even the most resilient of people into never wanting to interact with another person for the rest of their life. One that would make any being not already experienced with such things become immediately terrified of the ones that they know. 

Both Ohi-di’le and Hu-ka’li feed on their respective life forces. 

For the former, they feed on the life force of people for both a necessary requirement for survival and sometimes just as a way to feel truly alive. Due to their status of being dead and alive, dead yet alive, and neither dead or alive, all at once, they use the life force (willingly!) of beings around them in order to truly FEEL what life is like for those around them. In a sense of the word, they are Soulless, and use the raw essence of life to temporarily fill that space in them. They are incapable of housing a soul, as no soul is strong enough to withstand the strength and truth of what they are. So while the Multiverse would call them Soulless, they’d argue simply that they exist and thrive beyond the need of a Soul. (Certainly, they wouldn’t deny the fact that they want one, though.)

For the latter, they feed on the magic of people in order to retain their sanity. Certainly, there have been many a people who have gotten by without their sanity. People who have seen truths no one should ever have to see. People who have heard songs that have been sang above the tone that any being should hear. They lived perfectly fine lives, some were longer than normal and some were too short. They feed on magic not to prevent what they know will come but in order to keep themselves from doing things that they know they’ll regret. It’s a survival instinct, because they can feel the call of life and magic tugging at them, begging to be a part of something greater, something bigger than what it’s currently a part of.

That is the TRUTH of the drawback.

To see the living essence and magic of another being, is to try and resist the call of a siren that has transcended form and voice, that has learned to twist instinct into something of a new song. Both of these people always feel it calling to them. They always feel it in their bones, aching to be whole with the universe around them. They can tell that it wants to be put to a higher purpose. They know that it wants, longs to be away from a coil that is bound to drown it when it dies─ but to be a part of something that never truly dies? It wouldn’t have to worry about death, about fading to nothing, about being recycled through unworthy people. It would be able to travel, see and feel new things, not to feel as if it would never reach the stars it originated from. It would be celestial. It would be eternal once again.

It’s wrong, but it feels right. That’s the most terrifying thing about being one of these people.

One wrong move, and they will go from a guardian of the lives they watch rise into existence to a murderer of those self same lives. One wrong move, and there will be no difference between them and their counterpart, The Darkness Between The Stars (or what they used to be known as: Ahir-da’no, The Destroyers/The High Order). One wrong move, and everything they’ve worked for is for nothing. One wrong move, and it’s all forfeit, for nothing could stand against them. One wrong move, and their true benevolence will taste and ring as a lie.

One wrong move, and...

Fleur falls under the category of a Hu-ka’li that has stood the test of time and will. However, as a price for getting past this test, he suffers the same fate as all Hu-ka’li in his position have: fighting an unending battle, a ceaseless war of denying the raw magic and living essence of the world and worlds around him from being a part of that eternal end that it so desperately wishes to return to. After all, all life began as a spark of chance in the emptiness and coldness of space─ eventually all will return to the stardust in which was given to make it.

The downfall of him came after those that had bound him realized what he was. They did not give him a chance to reconcile what he was built to be his entire life. They told him he was a monster created to feast, and feast, and feast── why should he restrain from indulging himself like the king-- nay, like the god that he is?

It hurt, burned. However, how could he argue with that? He didn’t know anything about what he was, about what he could do, about what he could be. He didn’t know that indulging in such things was dangerous, especially in such high amounts. He didn’t know that he had a choice in what he ate and how much. All he was told was that his entire life was leading up to being revered and feared for the god that he is. All he was told was feast dear child, do not let their fear darken your doors.

He didn’t know any better. He couldn’t know any better.

His starvation was a choice to do what’s right, a defiance against the will of the things that wished for him to be the obedient little puppet. He refused to kill innocent people for something he had lived without until he was told that he could eat it. He refused to kill people who didn’t deserve to die. Even if it sent him to be tortured and made to be the perfect soldier, the perfect assassin, he didn’t care. He would not kill the innocent any longer. It made him feel wrong, wrong enough that he was able to steel himself against it for centuries, almost millennia. Eventually, those that had him on strings gave up and resigned to the fate of having him only going after those he believed were guilty of something dastardly and truly wrong. Those who did not deserve the stars’ gift of life and the universe’s gift of magic to be coursing through them.

Even now, while he has people to give him their energy, their magic, willingly, he chooses to eat only what’s necessary for him to keep his footing in reality. He always has the bitter taste of the things he did all that time before sitting at the back of his throat and dulling his taste buds of everything else he eats. 

Similarly, because he got to realize that he can eat life itself in its purest form, he can see how it looks. This is a boon and a curse. He can view if people have been possessed, or if they’re low on magic. He can view if they’re on death’s door, or if they’re not quite complete yet (something common in younger souls). 

However, he can very easily space out and stare at people when he sees this. When he sees people “as their colors and designs”, it’s something that happens when he’s either extremely tired, hungry, or around someone he trusts to keep him grounded to what’s real. When he does this, it’s ofttimes an active choice to briefly see the colors and designs of an individual in order to see if something’s wrong and where, especially when it comes to demonic possessions or divinity hiding in plain sight effectively for once and he has a feeling something is off about someone. Doing this too often can cause him to slip into madness regardless of whether or not he’s taken his medication that day, and abortives in this case will only help if he completely falls into his madness as that type of madness isn’t so much going mad as it is... seeing the universe in a single person.

It’s quite beautiful, you know. It’s hard to not look.

This is why Fleur tries to see people for people, even if the colors are muted thanks to his colorblindness with his normal eyesight. He’d take muted colors that he can look at without staring, over staring mesmerized by the universe beckoning to take a bite. Their whispers scare him more than the deepest of darks, some days.