#maturing is realizing that instead of getting annoyed at the girl who is the object of the guy's projection and stalking...

[borgialucrezia]

guys i think i'm in love with ursula bonadeo like...she's stunningly beautiful, often helps the poor and a girl's girl...idk that's pookie

[rocorambles]

Can’t Catch A Break

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Rape/Non-Con, Violence, Choking, Overstimulation

Summary: Life has a twisted sense of humor and just when you think you're free of someone, they become entangled in your life once again. Just when you gain hope and see the light at the end of the tunnel, life comes crashing down with a new plot twist of its own. 

You cringe at the pig-like squeals you hear from your female classmates as a certain blonde setter walks by. 

Atsumu! You were amazing at the game last night! Atsumu! Can you teach me how to play? 

Gagging at the disgusting scene, you raise the volume of your headphones, concentrating on the text in front of you, not even bothering to spare the athlete a glance as you finish up your homework before class starts. You’ve finally tuned everything out, biting your lower lip in concentration as your pen goes flying across your notebook, scrawling answers left and right, but you flinch at the sudden movement of someone’s hand waving in front of your face. 

You scowl at the distraction, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind, but your irritation flies out the window and you grin when you meet Osamu’s gaze, beckoning him closer as you ask him some questions you had about last night’s assignment. And the two of you chat, heads close together as he points out a few mistakes you’d made, as you sheepishly laugh at your carelessness and thank him for his help as always, ignorant of the way Atsumu enviously stares at both of you, eyes narrowing at the way you give his brother all your attention, attention he’s never once received even a sliver of. 

The Miya twins and you are technically childhood friends, although in reality, it’s really only Osamu who you consider to be your long-time friend and you scrunch your nose in displeasure when you remember meeting a young Atsumu for the first time, only for him to rip your favorite doll in half because you wouldn’t share your toy with him. Needless to say, neither of you really saw eye to eye after that and you ignored him for his quieter and kinder twin. 

Years passed and yet stubbornness on both your parts made it impossible for you two to bridge the widening gap, Atsumu too stubborn to apologize, you too stubborn to be the bigger person and forgive him. And as the two of you only got older, Atsumu becoming even cockier and more obnoxious, you having other more important things to worry about than annoying rude boys, the two of you completely drifted apart. 

But Atsumu watched over the years as you remained a frequent visitor to their house, watched as his parents welcomed you in like you were a part of the family, watched as you rushed past him to Osamu’s room without even a glance his way. He watched you grow older, grow more beautiful, grow even closer to Osamu until his parents wouldn’t stop joking and asking about when the two of you were finally going to start dating, only making the both of you laugh as you assure them that the two of you are just friends, always will be just friends. 

He doesn’t doubt the truth in those words and yet, he can’t help but stare at his brother in disbelief. How could his brother not want you when you’re splayed on his bedroom floor with only a pair of shorts and tshirt, completely vulnerable as you talk about school and volleyball? How could his brother not yearn for you when you smile at him, eyes glimmering with joy as you giggle at something he says? How could his brother not desire you when you let out those delighted moans every time you take a bite out of something you like, your eyes closing in bliss in a way that has Atsumu’s throat going dry? 

But the two of you stay true to your words, both of you going off to date other people throughout high school and college, and Atsumu judgmentally stares at the girls Osamu brings back to their shared dorm. They’re fine, he supposes, but none of them are you, none of them compare to you, and he questions his brother’s tastes as thoughts of you plague his mind.

He sees you during the holidays, when all three of you are back home from college, and his nails dig into his palms when he sees the faded hickey on your neck and listens to you gush about your newest and latest boyfriend to Osamu. And jealous anger courses through him as he eavesdrops on Osamu and you as both of you stay up late at night, chatting and catching up, sharing raunchy stories and advice of what to do or not to do during sex, and when he finally closes his eyes, he dreams that it’s him you’re talking about, him who’d fucked you silly in your dorm bed, him who had showed you just how intoxicating a bit of pain with your pleasure could feel. 

But when he wakes up cold and alone in his bedroom the next morning, it’s all too clear it’s not him and as the three of you graduate from college and go off on your own paths, he pushes you to the back of his mind, adamant about forgetting you and leaving you in the dust, drowning you out with the resounding smacks of volleyball, the screeching of shoes skidding across the court.  

Unfortunately for him, life has different plans and as he focuses on his athletic career, he’s unaware of the way Osamu coaxes you into working alongside him at his onigiri shop, unaware of how you’re once again entangled in the webs of his life and he freezes when he steps into his brother’s restaurant years later and sees you cheerily talking to a customer at the counter, an apron tied around you. And even after all this time, longing and desire crash into him at full force from just a glimpse of you. 

This time he doesn’t let pride get in his way, desperation clawing at him and urging him forward, and something primal roars inside of him at the way your eyes go wide in surprise when you recognize him, at the way you stutter out the shop greeting. You’re adorable and he can feel his hands twitch, wanting to touch you and make sure you’re real, unbelieving that you’re so close, right in front of him after he had finally come to terms with the fact that he’d probably never see you again. But he restrains himself, warmly smiling at you and ordering his go-to set meal, making you promise that you’d sit and catch up with him after you’re done closing up and he seats himself in a corner of the restaurant where he can watch you for the rest of the night. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you take a minute to fan yourself in the kitchen away from the prying eyes that have been locked on you for the last hour. You had been shocked to see the blonde and you chide yourself for your panicked reaction. Of course you were bound to see him at some point, especially now that you work with his brother. Osamu had mentioned that Atsumu visits from time to time and yet, the reality of it isn’t something you had been prepared for. 

What game was Atsumu playing now? You shudder when you recall the sharp smile he had given you, the demand in his tone as he asked you to hangout with Osamu and him after closing. 

A small part of you wonders if he’s changed, matured. It has been a long time since you’ve last seen him. Maybe you were overthinking things, making things up in your head because of your bad impressions of him when you were younger. But the larger part of you hisses for you to be careful, for you to be wary and you keep your defenses up even as you sit across from him, cups of piping hot tea in front of all three of you as Atsumu whines about not knowing that the two of you had decided to team up in this restaurant venture. 

Objectively he’s handsome. He’s always been good looking, but it’s clear that being a professional athlete has even further developed him and you can appreciate the way he fills out his shirt more, the way his broad shoulders make a striking silhouette. And he doesn’t miss the hint of interest in your eyes as you take him all in, preening with pride and something darker now that he finally has your undivided attention. Too bad you’re just as sharp as him and you tense up at the brief glimpse of something ominous in his eyes, in the way he stares at you. But you play nice, thankful that at least Osamu is also here as a buffer, and you sigh in relief when Atsumu finally leaves, off to bed early for a long grueling day of practice tomorrow. 

But you quickly realize you had relaxed too soon as Atsumu becomes an almost daily visitor, always coming in right as Osamu and you are closing shop and staying for hours on end, insistent on hanging out with you. And as time goes on, instead of sitting with the both of you, Osamu flits about the rest of the restaurant, going to the storage room to figure out inventory, assessing and cleaning the kitchen, forcing you to keep his brother busy and out of his hair. 

Atsumu grows bolder with his brother distracted and not paying close attention to your interactions, leering at you with predatory eyes and a wolfish grin, unabashedly staring at the swell of your breasts, only smirking when you snap at him that your eyes are up in your head and not down there. You snarl at him when he bluntly tells you how good you look in the shop apron, how sexy he bet you would look if you only wore an apron and nothing else, how he wishes he could see the view from behind. You roughly kick his foot away as it begins to trail up your leg, inching up and up towards your inner thigh, grazing the apex of your legs and you victoriously smile when he winces in pain, only to fight back a whimper at the fire in his eyes when he looks at you. 

But before he can do or say anything else, Osamu pops out from the back of the restaurant and Atsumu leans back in his chair on his best behavior again and you practically rush up from your seat, bidding a vague farewell as you escape. Only to return to work the next day and play the same push and pull game every night with the blonde setter. You’re thankful that at least Osamu is your saving grace and you comfort yourself in the knowledge that Atsumu won’t do anything too crazy, can’t do anything too awful, not with his twin around. 

You consider bringing it up to Osamu, telling him exactly what’s happening, but what then? Would you really make your close friend choose between his own brother, his own flesh and blood, his own family and you? What would their parents think if they ever found out? And you flinch at the thought of hurting or disappointing the two adults who had always treated you like their own daughter. No. That wasn’t even a possibility. So you suck it up. You’re a full grown woman after all. What’s one more misogynistic asshole you have to deal with? 

So you put with his objectifying stare, his wandering hands, his degrading comments, fighting fire with fire as you purposefully wear baggier clothes under your apron, wait for Osamu to turn around before shoving Atsumu away from you, shoot a sickeningly sweet smile as you knock his tea onto him when he asks you another outrageously inappropriate personal question about your sex life. And you think everything’s under control only for things to take a twisted turn you aren’t expecting when the entire MSBY Black Jackals team rents out the entire restaurant for a private party. 

You’ve come to know the entire team over the months you’ve been working with Osamu, all the players dropping by once in a while to grab a quick snack or meal, and you smile as the shop fills with raucous laughter and joyful spirits as the team celebrates a big win. There’s plenty of food and the liquor is pouring generously as speeches become slurred, as the volume drastically increases and you howl with laughter as Bokuto animatedly shows off his new chest receive move. You’re in such high spirits that even when Atsumu harshly grips your thigh as you walk past him, stopping you and asking for more sake, you merely brush his hand off and retrieve the bottle, returning to fill his glass, too distracted by the celebratory atmosphere to pay attention to the setter. 

And maybe that’s why you aren’t aware of how Atsumu is leaning towards you, calloused hands removing the bottle from your hand and setting it on the table before forcefully dragging you into his lap, a hand wrapped around the back of your head as he slams against your lips in a bruising kiss, only clutching you tighter as you struggle and try to push him away. Fear lances through you and you flail as much as you can, panicking when his strong arms don’t budge, only winding tighter and tighter around you until there isn’t any space between the two of you, until you can feel your breasts squished against his toned chest. You cry into his mouth, hot tears pricking your eyes when one arm sneaks down to grope an ass cheek, kneading and slapping the clothed flesh, when you can feel the tent in his pants pressing against your clothed groin. 

But even Atsumu has to breathe and when he pulls away, you don’t even think as your arm swings up and suddenly it’s silent as a loud slapping sound pierces through the room. All eyes are on the two of you, but you don’t care, you don’t notice. You only have eyes for Atsumu and all the disgust and anger you had built up inside of you, kept to yourself, comes rushing out as you viciously snarl at him, telling him you’re done with his harassment, openly jeering at him to go find a prostitute if he’s so desperate or maybe one of his stupid fan girls, anyone else but you. Venomous word after word is spat at him and you don’t stop until you’re out of breath, until your throat is hoarse from screaming and finally when there’s nothing left to say, you rush out of the room, past the horrified and stunned faces of his teammates, of Osamu, never looking back once, never stopping until you’re tucked underneath your bed covers, sobbing to yourself, skin rubbed raw and mouth brushed until your gums bled in an effort to wash yourself completely of his touch. 

You don’t return to work for days, ignoring the numerous calls and texts from Osamu, completely shutting off your phone. Now that time has passed, now that you’re not in the heat of the moment, you feel embarrassed by the spectacle you’d made, the dramatic scene you’d given Atsumu’s entire team and Osamu front row seats to. You don’t regret your actions, knowing you’re in the right, knowing no one should have to put up with what you had, but your skin crawls imagining how facing anyone who had witnessed that night would go, unsure where they all stand on the matter, wondering if Atsumu is dragging your name in the mud, calling you a drama queen, a liar behind your back. 

But Osamu isn’t having your cowardly act and you feel sick when you hear pounding on your door, Osamu’s familiar voice muffled, but loud from the other side of the door, begging you to let him in, to talk with him. And you consider just staying silent, waiting for him to leave, but long minutes pass and he doesn’t let up, seemingly getting only louder and more insistent the longer you leave him hanging and taking a deep breath, you finally unlock the door and let him in, looking anywhere but him as he shuts the door behind him. 

You’re not sure what to expect, not sure who’s side he’s on, but when strong arms wrap around you and gently bring you in for a hug, his familiar scent and warmth surrounding you as he tucks your head under his chin, you sob into his chest, releasing all the anxiety and stress you had felt, relief flooding through you when you peer up into his eyes and he looks at you the same way he always has, like best friends, like family. And the two of you curl up on your couch and he lets you fully tell your side of the story, finally explain everything that had been happening, and you let out a watery laugh when he only berates you for not trusting him, not telling him sooner.  

You laugh at yourself, wondering how you could have thought the whole world would be against you and you're eternally grateful to Osamu for dragging your reluctant body back to work as your regular customers cheerfully greet you, telling you they had missed you, as Bokuto and Hinata stop by and grace you with their megawatt smiles as they order their usual orders. And life finally feels normal again. Better than normal. 

You're not sure what had gone down between the Miya twins after the incident, but Osamu had assured you that Atsumu was never coming back to the restaurant, that you'd never have to see him again. And like he says, despite the way your eyes nervously glance at the door when closing time approaches for the first few weeks, no blonde haired man ever enters the establishment and as the months go on, Atsumu isn't even on your mind anymore, forgotten as you move on with your life. 

And now it's your turn to take care of Osamu and you shove him out of the restaurant, waving off his million comments and reminders as you help him pack for his vacation you had forced him to go on. You knew the man like the back of your hand and it was painstakingly clear how exhaustion and stress were eating away at him as he slaved away in the kitchen, hovered over his account books. 

The onigiri shop is rapidly growing, gaining momentum and popularity neither of you had anticipated, and while in many ways those things are a blessing, they also are a source of the growing pains Osamu and you feel as the business outgrows the small shop tactics the two of you had utilized. But you force him away with the promise that once he's rejuvenated and refreshed, the two of you would sit down together, map out the future of the restaurant, and embark on that new chapter together. And he flicks your forehead when you dramatically tell him he's no use to either of you if he drops dead from overexertion one day, but he smiles and you wave him off on his long overdue break. 

Life is hectic as you run the shop by yourself and you're running on less than empty as the days drag on. Maybe that's why you get careless. Maybe that's why you forget to lock the front door even after pulling down all the blinds and flipping over the open sign to announce the restaurant's closure. Maybe that's why you don't hear the door quietly open and close or the approaching footsteps as you do inventory in the storage room. 

You startle at the sound of the door slamming shut behind you, whipping your head around only to feel your heart drop as you lock eyes with a face you thought you'd never see again. Palpable fear makes you tremble and your shaky body wants nothing more to bolt, but with the only entrance and exit blocked by Atsumu's imposing body, there's nowhere to go and instead you cower backwards, slowly backing yourself into the wall, trying to stay as far as physically possible from the athlete. 

"You shouldn't be here, Atsumu. I'll tell Osamu." 

You know you're grasping at straws unsuccessfully when Atsumu wickedly laughs at your words and you flinch as he takes step after step until he's right in front of you, crowding you against the wall. He's so close you can feel his body warmth and like a cornered animal, you make a wild dash past him towards the door.

Or at least you try to. 

But years of trained athletic reflexes serve your visitor well and before you can even take a step away, he has you slammed against the wall, his body pressed against yours, both your wrists pinned above your head in one of his larger hands, his other hand tightly gripping your waist. And bile rises in your throat as you feel his hard length rubbing against you, as you hear him moan as he forcefully grinds against your body.  

 "Sure. Go ahead and tell 'Samu when I'm done with you, if you can even form words or think properly by then. He's not back from his little trip for another few weeks. More than enough time for me to show you exactly who you belong to." 

You protest as his lips once again slam against yours, but this time you're more prepared and you sneer at him when he recoils from your bite, red hot fury and pride soaring in you at the sight of blood trickling from his mouth. But you sob when a large calloused hand strikes you across the face, leaving a burning ache in its wake that you can't even register as the same hand wraps around your throat, squeezing and squeezing until black spots dance at the edge of your vision and your body thrashes in his grip. 

Just when you think you might pass out, he abruptly lets go and you collapse to the ground, gasping and heaving for air, too busy trying to breathe to fully retaliate against the way you're being forcefully repositioned on the floor, only feebly fending off his hands as they tear off your clothes while you clutch at your smarting face and bleeding nose. 

But your struggling begins anew, propelled by denial and despair when you're laid completely bare underneath him, his hungry eyes raking over your body and you dig your nails into his arms as he slaps and roughly kneads your breasts, painfully pinching and twisting your nipples. But that doesn't deter him in the slightest and you clench your eyes shut as he cruelly coos down at you about how honest your body is as your nipples betray you and harden under his attention, biting back a moan that threatens to escape as his head dives down and his tongue licks your sensitive buds while his lips wrap around and suck.

You hate him, you hate yourself, you hate your body as his fingers easily glide into your slick hole and your hands rush to cover your face, your mouth, anything to muffle your lewd sounds, to hide the aroused look on your face. But Atsumu isn't having it and you obediently place your hands at your side when he growls at you to let him see you, let him hear you, punctuating his order by slapping your throbbing clit and threatening to beat you to a bloody pulp until you listen. 

The wet sounds of your dripping cunt being finger fucked and your wanton moans create a ghastly symphony and you just want it all to stop, want the tightening coil in your stomach to go away, but it only curls more and more with every drag of calloused fingertips against your insides, until you're wailing as you come undone, convulsing around the fingers slamming into you, screaming as he doesn't let up his pace even when you've finished riding the pleasure. 

It's a mind numbing cocktail of pain and pleasure and you don't know if you're begging for him to stop or for more as he wraps his mouth around your overly spent clit, creating a vacuum like suction around it as he continuously pumps his fingers in and out of you and you think you might die from all the feelings inside of you as you're quickly forced to another orgasm, too soon after your first, wailing and sobbing for Atsumu to stop. It's too much. Too much. Too much. You're going to break. 

Unfortunately for you, that's exactly what Atsumu has planned for you and the blonde triumphantly smiles at the dying fight in your eyes, the internal confusion he sees as your carnal desires battle your more logical self-preservation. It's cute how your hands still make the motion of shoving him away even if there is only weak kitten like force behind it. It's endearing how pretty tears streak your face while you weakly tell him to stop despite the way your resistance is peppered with little moans of pleasure, despite the way your pussy milks his fingers, your hole fluttering and a tiny whine escaping you when he pulls his digits out, leaving you empty and aching. 

But he thinks you must be the most beautiful like this, eyes blown wide with pleasure, mouth opening in a choked scream, fingers clawing for purchase as he impales his entire length inside of you in one thrust, the sticky mess of your last two orgasms making it all to easy to slide in, no resistance from your quivering loosened walls. And he mockingly laughs at the way your eyes roll back, as you loudly moan as he bucks his hips, his cock ramming in and out of you, his balls obscenely slapping against your ass with every movement. 

He can feel your thighs clench, see how you stop breathing as your climax approaches, and he furiously reaches down to rub your clit, hissing as you clamp down around him, hungrily devouring the sight of you completely breaking apart underneath and around him as he forces you to your crest once again. And he shortly follows, roughly grabbing your hips and holding you still as he slams one last time inside of you, releasing his seed deep inside of you, salivating at the image of how pretty your insides must look coated with white. 

And as he takes in your drool and tear smeared face, the way your eyes are rolled back and unseeing, the way your body twitches in the aftershocks of such powerful forced pleasure, he can feel lust stir inside of him once again, his cock twitching and coming back to life, still nestled deep inside of you and he laughs at how reactive and sensitive you are as he gives an experimental thrust, an instantaneous mewl slipping past your lips. 

"Stay with me, babe. I'm nowhere near done with you." 

[aspoonofsugar]

Jaune: Zero to Hero

Pyrrha: It's not about why; it's about knowing. Understanding dark and light helps us manifest our Aura. Everyone has some of both.

Knowledge, Creation and Destruction all lead up to Aura. This is just another way to say that they lead up to individuality, which is something Grimms lack:

Pyrrha: They are creatures of Grimm, the manifestation of anonymity.

Individuality is conveyed through Choice. This is why Choice is the most important and final gift. It is symbolic of self-actualization, which is what our characters are pursuing in their coming of age story.

Jaune’s personal arc comments the group’s collective journey and marks each stage very clearly.

In which way does it happen? And what do these stages mean for Jaune’s growth as an individual?

THE IGNORANT WARRIOR

Pyrrha: Jaune, do you... know what Aura is?

Jaune: Psch! Of course I do! Do you know what Aura is?

Jaune is introduced as inexperienced and ignorant. He lacks combat experience and knows nothing about key concepts like Aura, Landing Strategy or Semblances.

His journey starts because Pyrrha shares her knowledge with him:

She awakens his aura, his very soul and later on trains him, so she helps his body get stronger:

In other words, Pyrrha is the one who puts Jaune on the right path to become a true “hero” and a “warrior”.

This is Jaune’s objective since the beginning, but he initially pursues it in the wrong way:

Jaune: I don't want help! I don't want to be the damsel in distress! I want to be the hero!

He is fixated on an idea of hero which is outdated and has its root in toxic masculinity:

Jaune: Cause this is always what I've wanted to be! My father, my grandfather, and his father before him were all warriors! They were all heroes! I wanted to be one, too. I was just never good enough.

This is why symbolically Jaune wants to be like his male ancestors. He wants to grow into “a real man”:

Cardin: Let's see how much of a man you really are...

And this is conveyed also through his Weapon:

Jaune: It's a hand-me-down. My great-great-grandfather used it to fight in the war.

Jaune did not forge his own Weapon, but he inherited it. Crocea Mors initially represents the legacy he wants to live up to. However, this legacy, instead of driving him, slows him down because he can’t grow until he remains in his ancestors’ shadow. Jaune needs to develop his own individuality instead.

In order to do so, he needs to grow not only as a figther, but as a person too.

As a matter of fact, Jaune’s ignorance is not only limited to the world he has stepped into, but also to the people around him:

Jaune: That's easy for you to say. You've probably got guys clamoring over each other just to ask you out.

Pyrrha: You'd be surprised.

He is so self-focused that he does not notice others’ feelings and hurts them unintentionally.

However, Pyrrha teaches him once again:

Pyrrha:Tell her exactly what you said. No ridiculous schemes, no pick-up lines. Just... be honest.

 It is thanks to her that Jaune manages to become a better man:

He is even able to call Neptune out the way Pyrrha did with him:

Jaune: Then just go talk to her. No pickup lines, no suave moves, just be yourself. I've heard that's the way to go.

And as a result, even Jaune’s relationship with Weiss gets better:

Weiss: You said you were embarrassed at first. What made you come talk to me?

Neptune: You're looking at him.  You got some good friends looking out for ya.

Because the girl realizes Jaune is not only after her money or her romantic attention:

Weiss: All my life, boys have only cared about the perks of my last name.

But wants to genuinely be a good friend to her.

In short, Jaune starts the story as immature both as a fighter and as a person to the point that he is considered unfit and annoying by other characters:

Glynda: I don't care what his transcripts say. That Jaune fellow is not ready for this level of combat.

However, thanks to Pyrrha, he is given the chance to mature.

Not only that, but while other characters see a weakness and a nuisance in Jaune’s ignorance and inexperience, Pyrrha sees it as a possibility:

Weiss: Jaune, is it? Do you have any idea who you're talking to?

Jaune: Not in the slightest, snow angel.

Weiss: This is Pyrrha.

It is specifically because Jaune is new to Pyrrha’s world that he is free from bias:

Pyrrha:  That's what I like about you. When we met, you didn't even know my name. You treated me just like anyone else. And thanks to you, I've made friendships that will last a lifetime. I guess, you're the kind of guy I wish I was here with. Someone who just saw me for me.

This is why Pyrrha feels she can forge a genuine bond with Jaune. What is more, the girl has faith in his potential:

Pyrrha: It's all right. I used my Aura to unlock yours, but the energy that protects you now is your own. You have a lot of it.

She sees in him what others do not and helps him develop both as a man and as a warrior.

This is well highlighted by the metal motif the two characters share.

As @hamliet explains here Rwby has several characters linked to the seven metals of alchemy.

The goal of alchemy is to create gold thanks to a process of refiniment that purifies the metal and has it go through several transformations. 

The seven metals are nothing, but a scale that goes from the heaviest and most raw metal (lead) to the most purified (gold) passing through the others (tin, iron, copper, mercury, silver).

For a story, it simply means that a character goes through a process of change that leads to self-actualization.

In Rwby this idea is conveyed through specific characters embodying a metal (Ironwood, Penny, Mercury) or even thanks to metal motifs commenting a specific part of a character arc.

For example, Yang is associated with gold:

I am the golden one Who burns just like the sun

But Adam takes her arm away and has her regress in the scale of metals to iron. This regression is not simply physical, but psychological as well:

However, Yang re-affirms herself and moves forward. The first step of this process is to symbolically make her new arm “gold” again:

When it comes to Jaune, I think that he may be the character associated with lead aka the “prima materia” that needs to be molded into gold. Even if this is not true, metal is at least definately still a motif in his arc, as it is in Pyrrha’s. This is why both characters wear metal armors, differently from others.

Pyrrha is already close to her self-actualization and she reaches it in the climax of the Vale arc, where she completes her (tragic) arc and dies a Maiden.

This is why her armor is gold, while Jaune’s is white and gray. Pyrrha is at the top of the metal scale and close to the end of her journey, while Jaune is respectively at the very bottom and at the very beginning.

He is the embodyment of the prima materia that has potential for greatness, but only if he is rightly guided and if he himself works hard.

Pyrrha takes over herself the duty to help Jaune mold himself.

This is underlined also by Pyrrha’s semblance:

Pyrrha: Well, Ruby has her speed, you have your glyphs. My Semblance is polarity.

Pyrrha can control and bend metals and she shows her power for the first time when she helps Jaune against the Ursa, so that he can overcome his self-issues.

So, Jaune starts the story as the lead and is going through a path of self-refinement which will lead him to become gold, so more similar to Pyrrha herself.

Pyrrha offers him the basic knowledge to start this journey, but unluckily leaves him too soon and now Jaune has to move forward on his own.

THE CREATIVE AVENGER

Pyrrha: I want you to know that I'm just happy to be a part of your life. I'll always be here for you, Jaune.

Even after Pyrrha’s death, this stays true:

Blacksmith: That was some fine metal you brought me. Accents the white nicely. Where'd you get it from?

Pyrrha has become a part of Jaune.

This is a recurring motif in Rwby:

Penny: I won’t be gone, I’ll be part of you.

It is the idea that grieving is a process that leads to acceptance, but also to integration with a lost one. It is a way to have the deceased keep on living through the survivors.

In Jaune and Pyrrha’s case, this is conveyed through Pyrrha’s metal being used to enrich Jaune’s Weapon.

As stated by Ruby:

Ruby: Just weapons? They're an extension of ourselves! They're a part of us! Oh, they're so cool.

Weapons are symbolic of the self, just like Semblances.

What is more, Weapons and Semblances are also a declination of the dychotomy of body and soul, presented by the series.

Weapons are wielded by bodies, while Semblances are a materialization of the soul.

In other words, Pyrrha’s gold becoming a part of Jaune’s Weapon is symbolic of Jaune’s first step in a painful process that will lead him to overcome his partner’s death and to inherit Pyrrha’s legacy.

Jaune must keep on learning from Pyrrha and become more like her. As noted by @hamliet​, this is symbolized also by Jaune’s design aquiring more golden details as he goes on in his journey:

Jaune: Guess I was going to grow out of it eventually.

Ren: A sign of progress.

Jaune: Progress.

That said, grieving is not easy and Jaune must struggle with much pain and negative feelings.

This is why the changes he makes to Crocea Mors are finalized to increase its attack power:

It is because Jaune feels anger over Pyrrha’s death and wants revenge.

In the Battle of Haven he gives in to his fury and tries to kill Cinder. He is trying to superficially imitate Pyrrha’s sacrifice:

Jaune: If I die buying them time, then it's worth it. They're the ones that matter.

However, he is not doing it out of bravery or necessity, but out of recklessness and self-hate. This is why his actions lead to this:

Once again, Jaune risks to lose another loved one:

Jaune: No, no, no, no, not again! Weiss, c'mon, please!!

However, this time he is able to save Weiss thanks to his Semblance:

Jaune: My Semblance?

Nora: How else do you think you're healing her, dummy?

Jaune gives up on using his Weapon to fight and chooses to use his Semblance to cure. He chooses soul over body and Creation over Destruction.

At the same time, Jaune’s activation of his Semblance is meaningful on two levels:

Jaune: No. I don't think I'm healing her. Our Aura heals our bodies. It feels... it feels more like I'm using my Aura to amplify hers!

Nora: Wait, aren't you worried about running out?

Jaune: Pyrrha once told me I've got a lot of it. I still believe her.

First of all, Jaune’s Semblance is rooted in the idea that people heal themselves. His power is not to cure others, but to amplify others’ auras, so that they can become stronger and can heal. It is about bringing out the best in others. It is a power fit for a leader, but also an ability symbolic of Jaune’s own process of healing. He can heal himself through helping others to heal.

Secondly, Jaune’s Semblance is in itself a nod to Pyrrha. Pyrrha used her own aura to awake his and Aura Amp is simply an evolution of this idea. It is not about activating others’ auras, but it is a power that lets Jaune share his. It also makes good use of something Pyrrha noticed immediately aka Jaune’s huge quantity of aura.

In other words, Jaune ends up acting like Pyrrha in the Battle of Haven, but not because he fights Cinder, but because he shares his gift with others, just like Pyrrha did with hers.

Pyrrha is a part of Jaune both in body (Crocea Mors) and soul (Aura Amp), but Jaune must still truly understand what this means.

He makes progress in Lost:

Red-Haired Woman: She understood that she had a responsibility... to try. I don't think she would regret her choice, because a Huntress would understand that there really wasn't a choice to make. And a Huntress is what she always wanted to be.

This is the essence of Pyrrha’s sacrifice. Jaune comes to understand it and chooses to make a similar choice together with his team:

Jaune: I think... I think she knew she wasn't going to win. That she might not come out alive. But... she also knew she was the only one that could try.

Ren: So she did.

Nora: Maybe we should too.

Jaune: Yeah, we should.

In this way, it will be as if Pyrrha were fighting together with them:

Nora: Pyrrha may not be by our side anymore, but we can fight like she is.

Jaune: And in a way... she will be.

Jaune tries to overcome his anger and his sadness for Pyrrha’s death in order to keep fighting like she did.

So, once again he chooses this:

Ruby: I wanted to protect my friends.

Maria: Precisely! It is the desire to preserve life which fuels the light inside you. And to make no mistake, it is light. Preservation is an extension of creation, or, at the very least, an enemy of destruction. The Creatures of Grimm were made by the God of Darkness, but your light comes from his brother.

He chooses to protect life and this is the essence of Creation.

Once he confirms this choice, he is free to explore Creation’s potential and he does so in the land of Creation itself, Atlas.

He strengthens his shield instead of his sword:

And he trains his Semblance:

Oscar: Nice, your recovery is getting faster.

This all leads him to become stronger psychologically:

Ren: Him on the other hand... There's no fear at all. I can see it, he believes we're going to get this done.

That said, Jaune starts meeting limits to his new found strength rooted in Creation:

Jaune: Ah, sorry. No matter how much I boost you, they won’t go away.

Jaune: Did... I stop the virus?

Penny: No. It’s still there.

Jaune’s way to move forward is to heal himself through healing others. Still, what to do when this is not possible?

THE DESTRUCTIVE HEALER

Penny: No… there’s not enough time to heal me…

Penny: But there is something you can do…

What happens in Atlas is an inversion of Haven.

Penny pushes Jaune’s Semblance away and touches Crocea Mors.

Jaune is asked to give up on healing her and to speed up her death instead. He is asked to choose his Weapon (body) over his Semblance (soul) and Destruction over Creation.

This marks the characters entering the Destruction phase:

Leaving Creation (Penny) behind.

For Jaune, this means that his own self image that he has worked so much to build and to make his own:

And that has been enriched in Anima thanks to Pyrrha...is shattered:

At the same time, he is once again put in a similar spot as Pyrrha:

They both become unwilling agents of Penny’s death because of Cinder (and Emerald and Mercury in the first case):

Pyrrha: Ruby, I... I'm so sorry.

Ruby: Me too. But it wasn't your fault.

Jaune: She's right. Whoever was on that microphone... they're the ones that did this. And we have to make sure they don't take anyone else.

So Jaune’s journey to integrate with Pyrrha, to understand her and her struggle continues.

What now?

It is too soon to say because we have yet to properly start our journey through Destruction and what it is about.

That said, there are two things that are worth highlighting. The first is a motif Rwby is following, while the second is a general theme found in many stories.

1) As @hamliet​ has stated in many metas and as I have written here, Rwby is an alchemical story. Alchemical stories are usually marked by three important deaths. Each death is symbolically linked to a color. They are usually black, white and red. However, sometimes there can be yellow instead of the white or the red. This is the case here, where a resonant death is the yellow death aka Penny’s.

It is a death that happens while the characters are surrounded by yellow:

And it happens through a weapon called “Yellow Death” (Crocea Mors’s meaning). So, it is really not subtle. Penny’s death is meant to mark an important passage for our protagonists, just like Pyrrha’s one (the black death).

2) It is common in stories that deal with healers to explore the concept of death as well.

The basic idea is that a healer is a person meant to cure. That said, they will meet people impossible to cure and that will die on their watch. This is an unescapable truth a true healer must live with.

Let’s highlight this theme is found in works very different for genre and culture.

Let’s have two examples.

Scrubs aka an American comedy about doctors deals with this theme multiple times. In many episodes the characters must simply accept they can’t save a life, but must still not lose hope and keep on living themselves.

Yosano from the manga BSD says so:

Her backstory explores the link bewteen life and death further since it is shown that a power that cures fatal wounds can be used to cheapen life itself:

It is too soon to say if Rwby will explore a similar theme, but the fact that Jaune, (the healer) is the one that has to speed up Penny’s death might be a very powerful and poignant choice. This is true especially because Rwby does not refuse Destruction (and so does not refuse death), but presents it as a principle equal to Creation (so as a part of life).

THE CHOOSING HERO

Jaune’s arc is about living Pyrrha’s death over and over again with different scenarios and outcomes. This happens so that in the end he can finally overcome it.

So far, it has happened three times and each time has been in the climax of an important battle.

The Battle of Beacon has him witness powerlessly to Pyrrha’s death (lack of knowledge and passivity).

The Battle of Haven has him saving Weiss (creation).

The Battle of Atlas has him killing Penny (destruction).

What is more, every time Jaune becomes more proactive and conscious of what he is doing.

In Beacon he has no idea of what is happening. He works with little information and things happen to him without him being able to do anything.

In Haven his actions lead to Weiss being in danger, but he manages to save her. That said, he does not do it consciously. He unlocks his Semblance because of emotional stress. It is an unconscious choice and not a conscious one.

In Atlas he makes a specific conscious choice, but it is a choice that is forced on him because of external circumstances. It is also a choice that is meant to challenge and temporally break him.

In other words, he is slowly and painfully approaching Choice aka self-actualization. Right now, he has to face the consequences of Penny’s death, but this will probably lead him to finally enter the Choice stage and to complete his arc by becoming a “hero” aka gold (probably).

At the same time, this final choice will also be about healing and overcoming grief. It will be the final integration with Pyrrha and him being able to honor her legacy.

After all, we have been told from the beginning what Pyrrha’s fate would have been. We’ve just failed to notice:

Pyrrha: For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death. I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.

June and Pyrrha’s bond is eternal and she is meant to be the key character in Jaune’s arc. It is only through confronting and finally overcoming her loss that Jaune can finally self actualize and become the person Pyrrha has always known he could be. Pyrrha will symbolically be with him in this struggle. Her memory will protect and inspire him. 

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 5/8

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 5/8 WORD COUNT: 3,900+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity| cigarette smoking | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | drug use SPOILERS: n/a STATUS: COMPLETED

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The autumn winds heralded more clement weather, carrying the tart scent of peaches and pine in the air. With the balmier weather, everyone in the estate had taken their opportunity to be outdoors. Nanami himself had been dragged out and was walking with everyone who cared to go to the private orchards when at breakfast, the groundskeeper announced that everyone can go peach picking.

He watched from across the table as the object of his attraction visibly lit up, your glorious blue eyes brightening exponentially. You loved peach picking and he loved seeing you all excited over small things. But it turned out to be something of a disappointment when your attention turned to Geto instead of him, inviting him to go with you.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” you asked expectantly, giggling like a little girl when Geto nodded, placing an arm over your shoulder and hugging you to his side while he said, “Anything for my favorite girl.”

My favorite girl. He had to stop himself from being petty and scoffing at the very thought of it. His annoyance was further validated when you generalized your invitation, saying anyone who wished to could come, voiced out by Yuuji who pouted at you and said you should have been inviting him since he loved picking peaches as much as you did.

That was just how it was with you when it comes to Geto. You forget everyone around you the moment he makes an appearance, and it seemed Nanami wasn’t an exception. He could accept that in the past. Ever since, you had been vocal about your preference for the dark-haired man who spoiled you to no end, letting you have your way and without fail made you smile and laugh like you never do with anyone else. When their group would go out, travel or do something else recreational, you’d always be where Geto was, dangling by his arm. You mellowed out with him when you met Yuuji, but the truth is that Geto Suguru is your favorite among your older brother’s friends.

This time, however, he couldn’t rest easy with you interacting that way with said male. If he was being honest, he only agreed to go peach picking after Gojo made him tag along because he wanted to keep a close eye on you. He was also being obvious about it with the way he was trailing you with his eyes every other five seconds, the realization dawning into him when Shoko walked beside him, grinning as she took a long drag from her cigarette.

“If you want to be with her, just do it,” the woman told him, easily reading him as usual. “You look like you’re about to blow your top.”

Nanami just glanced at you, his eyes involuntarily flicking to your familiar figure now circling around Geto as you walked, your hands and arms animatedly making big gestures as you seemingly explained something to him. He felt his temper rise when the male grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him so he could wrap an arm around you, his dark eyes finding Nanami over his shoulder in a sly taunt.

Shoko clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “We all know, Kento.” She glanced behind her where Gojo and Utahime were walking. “Only that white-haired idiot seems to know nothing. Or he pretends not to know.” She sighed. “I can’t blame him though. She used to be this really cute bundle of joy, but look at her now. She’s a grown woman.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. He knew exactly just how much of a woman you have become physically and mentally. What he doesn’t understand was why you weren’t walking with him instead while you’d be sneaking around with him, stealing kisses and hugs from him since the previous day when the pair of you returned from the lake.

At the rehearsal the previous night, you had stuck to him like glue, not that he minded. You purposefully touched him even when everyone was watching, running your fingers over his arm, leaning against him while everyone waited for their turn to practice their part for the ceremony and holding his hand while he sat with you in the garden during breaks, all the while feigning innocence to your actions. You even went to the extent of wrapping an arm around his waist while Gojo was speaking to you. The man, obviously aggravated, narrowed his eyes at you before turning on his heels and leaving.

“God, he’s so frustratingly dumb,” you muttered under breath, watching him leave. Only you had the guts (and right if Nanami was being honest) to call your brother dumb. It somehow made Nanami think that you were really just doing things to get a rise out of Gojo for whatever reason or whatever complex you had with him, but what confused him was that you didn’t stop even if your male clone wasn’t looking.

It was no different at the dinner that followed at the restaurant the family had rented for the night. You purposefully said you forgot something, declaring that you will be riding with Nanami instead, tossing your car keys to Megumi who saluted him while snickering with Nobara. Yuuji, being the most annoying of your three friends, deliberately bumped against him and said, “Make the most of it, Nanamin.”

He would have smacked the boy at the back of his head if the conniving little sprite dragging him around didn’t pull him towards his car. “Wait for them to leave,” you told him as you boarded his car.

“I thought you forgot something.” His lips quirked upwards, already realizing what you were playing at, but before he could say anything more, you grabbed him by the collar, silencing him with your lips. That ended up with you two being half an hour late to dinner after that one kiss turned into a full-on make-out session in his car with you sitting astride his lap while he kissed you stupid.

When both of you finally got to the restaurant, he expected you to let go of him, but you boldly walked with him to your designated seats, holding onto his hand as you led the way. He did not miss the way your parents were looking at the two of you, but he pretended not to notice. Your father was rather approving which was a relief but your mom was just confused. He could just surmise that your friends were in on it when you ended up sitting on the same table, reserving two seats for him and you, further proven when you exchanged high-fives with Nobara who, in turn, winked at Nanami. Of course, he thought, they knew.

You engaged in conversations with your friends for most of the duration of the dinner, but you never failed to smile his way or wink at him when you think no one’s watching. You didn’t ride home with him since he had to drive stupid Gojo after he got too drunk to function and instead drove your car with your pals. You and your friends didn’t come back for another hour, but when you got home, you rifled through the house, loudly asking everyone where he was.

Nanami had to suppress laughter as he crossed the foyer on his way to the stairs and saw how you pushed past Suguru to make your way towards him, latching onto his arm and announcing to everyone that you will walk him to his room cause he might get lost. You had giddily stuck to what you said you’ll do when he noticed how your eyes were bloodshot and you had that odd smile on your face.

“Sweetheart, are you high?” he asked, gently holding you at arm’s length. He already knew the answer to his question when he caught a whiff of weed on your hair. Typically, he’d scold you, but the way you were tittering for no reason was just too adorable for him to handle.

“Don’t be mad,” you said to him, attempting to pout, but you couldn’t in your state. You then started poking his cheek that he eventually had to hold your hands away from him. When you finally stopped laughing, you blinked up at him and said, “I want you to kiss me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice as he pulled you to a side hallway, pushing you against the wall, giving you a peck. You whined loudly. “You call that a kiss?” you complained.

“Be specific, love. How do you want me to kiss you?” he teased, leaning his forehead against yours, trying hard not to laugh as he held you back, preventing you from touching him. He was already aware of how you could easily take the reins and dominate him.

You smirked at him. “Kiss me dumb. Pretty please with a cherry on top, Kento?” You seemed to have discovered that calling him by his given name has become his weakness, and you succeeded because in the next second, he was all over you, prying your mouth open with his tongue as he pressed you against the wall with his body. You submitted to his touches, pulling him closer, your sensuous lips and the sweet flavor of your tongue driving him insane. Before he lost control, he walked you back to your room, defeating the purpose of you walking him to his.

But now, he had to watch you being monopolized by Geto.

He sighed. He could trust Shoko to shed off pretenses for once.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “I know she’s really fond of Suguru, but I can’t help but –” What was it that he felt exactly?

“You’re jealous. It’s natural especially when she was all clingy with you yesterday.” She chuckled. Shoko couldn’t have been more right, but the scene playing out before him was the least of his problems. It ran deeper than just the moment at hand.

Nanami promised to keep it a secret as Geto’s friend although it killed him a thousand times when three years ago, just a week before the time he had to haul you out of a bathtub after your cocaine episode, the male came to him, confiding that he wanted to pursue you romantically.

“Good luck on that,” he remembered telling Geto, feeling that same pang of envy pervading his system, but then the latter said, “It’s just that she said she likes someone else.” He looked at Nanami sharply as if he was angry at him for some reason, but retracted to his easy-going mood. “Forget I said anything. I can’t have her.”

“Why is that?” Nanami asked then.

At that, Geto smiled, sadness crossing his features. “I don’t deserve her.”

At odd to his words three years ago, Geto was as close to you as ever. You’re obviously still very fond of him. Still, Nanami wasn’t sure what the intention was behind Geto’s calculated actions. The man was just as aggravating as you are with your mutual penchant for games and keeping people on their toes.

Shoko stole him back from his reverie. “Just put a label on it already. She likes you, too, you know.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Seriously?” She burst out laughing then. “Men are such dense creatures.”

“That’s offensive.”

“So is your obliviousness.”

“What does that even mean?”

She shook her head, her laughter dissipating. “Talk to her and find out.”

**

“I saw what you were doing with Kento last night.”

You looked at Geto who was walking beside you, not really knowing how to respond to his observations and settling for twirling the wicker basket you were holding. He flashed you a knowing smile, already used to your behavior when you were puzzling something in your head, caught up in your own bubble.

“I’m not as frustrated about Nanamin as much as I am with Satoru.” You sighed, remembering how your brother just walked away when he saw you holding onto Nanami, annoyed as if he thinks you were just trying to rile him up. “He’s so dense with things like this.”

“You’re one to talk,” Geto stated frankly, snickering at your appalled reaction. “On a more serious note, why?”

Letting up on your scowl, you said, “Well, he’s being a bitch about how I never tell him anything anymore. He asked whether I liked Nanamin and what was going on when I was being very obvious. I kissed the man in front of him, for heaven’s sake.”

“Sweetie, that’s not straightforward at all. You know yourself better than anyone, and seriously, even I get all confused as to whether you’re just messing with everyone, not to mention that you’re so erratic that we just don’t know what to expect from you.” Geto eyed you placatingly, letting you know that he was being earnest.

You easily laugh and smile because of him, but he just as easily offends your by being so brutally straightforward. You’re realizing that now that he was acting more like your older brother, and you knew you couldn’t get offended when you wanted assurance. “I just want to include him all the time but his reactions are so fucking infuriating. He treats me like a kid crushing on his friend if anything.”

“So, why not talk to him about it?”

“I don’t want to sit down and talk to him about it as if I’m asking for permission or approval. I love Satoru to smithereens – don’t tell him that – but he doesn’t get a say about what I want in life especially not where the people I date are concerned especially since he seems to have an aversion to me being attracted to any of you guys ever since I turned twelve.”

Geto chortled. “So you’ve been crushing on Kento since you were a kid?”

You made a face at him, punching him on the arm. “No, idiot. I liked you first.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

You momentarily stopped walking. “Yes, but then I found out what a womanizer you are but I won’t even venture into that. I’m not really fond of martyrdom,” you deadpanned.

Not even hiding his affront, he walked back to your spot and flicked you on the forehead. “I’m very offended you’d say that to me!”

“It’s true though.” You laughed, reaching over to squish his face before walking around him in circles. “If you think I’ll cry over your pretty face, you couldn’t have been more mistaken. Besides, I don’t want to share.”

“Now you’re just being a jerk.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning insult. “I’m hurt, baby.”

“You deserve it for kissing that cheap model wannabe in front of me on your first runway show.”

“My, my. Your tongue’s loose today. Tell me more.”

“I settled for thinking I’ll just steal you from Satoru to be my best friend. Well, that’s before I met Yuuji. I guess I was just really jealous of what you and Satoru had. I wanted everything he had anyway until I realized that’s now how it works and there were things about me he couldn’t have either. Makes it fair.” You chuckled, finally making it in front of him. “Like that personalized plush bear you gave me on my eighteenth birthday. Man, that was huge.”

Laughing with you, he held onto your arm, pulling you close to him, glancing behind him.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, still giggling.

“Your boy toy would have killed me with those looks he’d been throwing at my direction since breakfast,” Geto whispered to you, making you look over your shoulder, too. There, you found Nanami, looking so breathtakingly gorgeous with the rakish way his hair had been styled and his chiseled physique outlined by the long-sleeved running top he had on. He’s been dressing more casually recently much to your satisfaction.

“Don’t call him that, He’s not my boy toy.” You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. “Sometimes, I have to stop myself from jumping his bones.”

It was Geto’s turn to make a face at you. “Sweetheart, I love you, but don’t say those things to me. Anyway, are you two together now?”

You tensed slightly and shook your head. “That’s up to him.”

“What?” He scoffed. “In case you’re not aware, you’re a prize. Don’t go doing all the work.”

“I know.”

“He should fight for it, too, if he wants you.”

“So Yuuji says.”

“He’s right.” Geto stopped walking, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know I love you right?”

You nodded, poking fun at him. “More than your hoes, I hope.”

He clucked his tongue, rolling his eyes at you. “I’m being serious here. You may think I’m a hedonistic bastard who only thinks about getting laid all the time, but you’re a different story, sweetheart. I treasure you like Satoru does, and if I see something wrong, it’s my duty to tell you.”

Seeing the somber look on his face, your smile dropped. “What are you getting at?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he began. “Kento is a good man, better than Satoru and I combined to tell you the truth. But when it comes to things like this, he has the tendency to be indecisive.”

Your heart dropped, feeling nervous all of a sudden as your eyes widened in fear at the prospect. “Are you saying he doesn’t like me?”

“Honey, he loves you. I know so.” He snorted. “Bastard can’t even resist you anymore by the looks of it, but trust me when I say he’s going to over-analyze things because there are so many things to consider instead just going for it.”

“You mean Satoru?” you griped.

“One of them anyway.”

“O…kay.” You pouted in perplexity. “How would you advise me to proceed?”

Geto finally let up on the seriousness, bursting out laughing. “The gods are fair, aren’t they?”

Understanding why he was laughing, you punched him on the arm again. “I know I’m dumb at this, but at least try acting like the older, more mature one here. You should be flattered I’m coming to you for shit like this at all.”

Still laughing, he pulled you close and hugged you, planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head. When he was calm enough, he breathed out and squeezed you tighter. “Talk to him and be direct about it.”

**

You decided to approach Nanami when you spotted him alone under one of the trees, reading a book. The forgotten basket of peaches beside him, only half-filled, was indicative that he forgot about the activity at hand and is in his own world again. You adored his quiet side, the way he kept to himself, unafraid to be alone and always comfortable in his solitude, so much so that you hesitated to disturb him.

Quietly, you stalked towards him, making sure not to make any sudden sounds, but being him, he was immediately able to perceive your presence.

"You have a very dark taste in literature as a child," Nanami spoke when you’re within earshot, sensing your presence.

You frowned, sitting beside him, confused at first but upon seeing your battered copy of "Coraline" sitting on his lap, you understood what he meant. "Where did you find that?"

"In the library." He finally met your gaze, his expressions unfathomable. "I remembered you gushing about it when you first read it."

You nodded in understanding, but couldn't quite keep your mind in the conversation, plagued with thoughts of what Geto told you earlier. He was saying something about your fascination for the horror genre, but you cut him short, saying, "Can I ask you something?"

Nanami tilted his head slightly at the question, his quizzical gaze prompting you to proceed.

"What are we?" you blurted out, your blue eyes quite unable to meet his dark ones. You don't exactly know what was making you behave with such uncertainty. After all the times you had been confident where he was concerned, you were suddenly scared. You didn't fear being rejected by anyone. It has always been the case for you since you’re younger, but you were afraid of not knowing, of not being sure.

Nanami looked at you, deep in thought for a few moments until he finally told you, "That's up to you, isn't it?" His tone had a bite to it.

Unable to place where he was coming from at the moment, you hesitated. You rummaged through your head about what his response to you could imply, frowning when you came up with nothing. "What?" you said, thinking it better to ask.

"You heard me." He shrugged, opening the book to the page he was reading. By the looks of it, he was trying his best to ignore you.

You fought the urge to pose barb at him, too, wanting nothing but to get a straight response from him. "Why is it up to me?" You totally didn't understand, thinking it ought to be a decision the pair of you should make. Wasn’t that how it worked?

Silently cursing at the whole situation, you contemplated on your past relationships. All of them seemed less complicated. They liked you, you liked them. You decide to date, and when things don’t work out, the arrangement is broken off. High school and college boys were irritating to say the least, but you were expecting it to be a lot more straightforward with Nanami because he’s a mature adult. Now it seemed like you were in one of those previous relationships again.

“Elaborate on that,” you prompted him, seriously at a loss.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is this another game of yours?"

To say you’re appalled by his odd line of questioning was an understatement. Unable to control your emotions anymore, you stood up. "What are you talking about?" You burst out laughing without mirth. For once, you’re being direct with what you wanted. For once, you weren't playing and yet all you get are questions being thrown at you.

"Go play with Suguru. He seems to enjoy your antics more than anyone," he told you coldly.

"What are you on about?" you demanded from him. “I’m asking you a simple question.”

Nanami flashed you a tired smile. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He also stood up, obviously exasperated. "Look, I honestly don't know what we are. I'm not sure." He sighed when you eyed him in disappointment but that expression turned into icy indifference very quickly.

"You don't know," you repeated, nodding. "Okay. I see how it is."

For the first time in years, you felt stupid, so much so that you felt like tearing all the hair off your scalp. You didn't understand what was wrong with Nanami but so many thoughts ran through your head at the same time. You thought you might have asked too early. You thought maybe you read things between the two of you wrong. On top of all that, you felt so overwhelmed with anger over his response that you couldn't think straight, but you were also afraid of saying anything else in case your inner demon decides to jump out.

Turning away, you started walking away. You heard him call your name but you didn't look back, suppressing the urge to go back to him and instead storming out of the orchard. You didn't understand what the dull ache in your chest meant but you knew you couldn't handle it.

-end of part 5-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S “JUJUTSU KAISEN.” [20210731]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[rawr-ily]

A Stupidly Long Oikawa Analysis

   The main issue with Oikawa is that he's not naturally gifted, which is emphasized a lot in the show. For example, the last episode of the season one match of Karasuno vs Seijoh was named "Oikawa Tooru is not a Genius". Despite that, he's still the best player on Seijoh, and is highly respected by his teammates as a setter and their captain. Due to not having any natural skill or technique, Oikawa resorted to compensating with his own tactics. He knew that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never have the same technical skill as a genius like Kageyama. Instead, he used his own skills in analysis and communication to bring out the best in his spikers.

   This is why, despite being called Grand King, Oikawa is depicted as a mighty general. He leads his soldiers, and in return, they trust him with their lives and fight with him. The amazing thing about Oikawa's leadership is that his teammates trust him because they know he can lead them. They understand that Oikawa has honed their skills and improved them all as players. He's helped them all, and when a game comes, they understand that all he asks of them is to keep trusting him. Trust that he'll send them a good toss, trust the strategies he'll formulate, trust his leadership.

At the end of the day, Oikawa knows he doesn't have the technical skill of a genius, so he dedicates his focus to improving his whole team. The origin of this focus would probably come from the episode where he almost backhands Kageyama in middle school. Iwaizumi intervenes and literally knocks some sense into him. They fight and yell, but then Iwaizumi tells Oikawa, "There are six people on court! The team with the best six players is the best!" Oikawa seems to have an epiphany then. He seems to realize exactly what his best friend is saying. It seems very straightforward at first, but it clearly not all that simple. Oikawa thought that he had to improve himself as a setter so he could carry his team to victory. He was trying to be a king. Luckily, he had Iwaizumi to cut off that train of thought very early on.

I loved how the show compared what Iwaizumi said to multiplication and addition. Oikawa thought that he had to improve himself because he thought you just mushed together the strengths of each player. That's wrong. He learned that you multiply the strengths of each player instead. It took me a bit to understand that one too. The way I look at that, it means that each player will affect one another when in a team. They can't just play as individuals that happen to be on the same side of the court. By trying to add the powers of your team, you just stack them on top of each other. By multiplying, you take what you already have and make it greater by merging it with something else.

If you like visuals, think of oil and water vs baking soda and vinegar. Adding oil to water increases the overall volume of liquid, but they never combine. If there is a cup of water and a cup of oil, you get two cups of liquid. Baking soda and vinegar doesn't just stack; it explodes. If you have a cup of vinegar and a cup of baking soda, they'll make way more than two cups when they combine. The players get stronger when together.

So, Oikawa stops trying to become a king. He obviously does keep trying to improve as a player, but he starts to focus more on his spikers. He realizes that he can compensate for his lack of natural technical skill by using his own natural skill of reading people and adjusting his responses adequately. Oikawa is a versatile player, and a very flexible setter. He gives his energy to improve his team, and they respond by giving their energy to get better and win. I found it interesting how loyal his teammates were to him. It brings me back to Oikawa being a general and not a king. Kageyama is high, untouchable, and barks out orders as the king, while Oikawa is the brave general who leads the soldiers. Oikawa fights alongside his soldiers. Kageyama stays in his palace, highly revered, but alone. The difference between them is that people are forced to follow Kageyama because of his unparalleled power. People follow Oikawa because they trust him with their life.

It's actually one of my favorite pieces of symbolism in Haikyuu. Kageyama was a genius from the beginning. His skill was something he was born with, and now he's king. When the eldest prince is born they have the birthright to become king. Kageyama got his title simply because he was lucky (

I love Kageyama, and I know he worked very hard, but he was mainly able to get there because he's a natural born genius. Generals have to rise through the ranks and work for their position. Some soldiers in history were actually more loyal to their general than to their king. Generals risk their lives with their soldiers. The king commands from the palace. The analogy doesn't really work for their relationship, but it's great for their individual characters.

As for Oikawa's relationship with Kageyama? It's complicated, as most things with Oikawa are. Oikawa is Kageyama's upperclassman, and It's evident that Kageyama once looked up to him. At first, I never understood why Oikawa hated Kageyama so much. It was fairly obvious that his underclassman basically worshipped him, and I thought it would do wonders for his ego. However, it seems so much more obvious after a bit of rewatching. Middle school Kageyama was a natural from the start, and middle school Oikawa was just a mess of overworking, burning out, and crippling insecurity masked by egoism.

Oikawa hated that he worked himself to death to make the cut, then some random bright eyed prodigy first year just comes in and steals the show. Maybe it wasn't reasonable to hate him so much, but middle schoolers aren't reasonable. Some people say Oikawa was supposed act more mature and responsible, an that he should have had more self control with his feelings. They seem to forget he was a CHILD. He was a literal child; he just entered adolescence, and he was still learning. He shouldn't be expected to handle things like an adult when he isn't one. Oikawa was just SCARED. He loved volleyball and didn't want to be replaced by Kageyama. He overworked himself so he wouldn't be dispensable. I agree that he should not have tried to hit Kageyama. However, you can't say that it makes him a bad person or character.

Oikawa wasn't really in his right mind at the time. It was clear that he was in the middle of an adrenaline rush of sorts from overworking himself. He was visibly agitated and overwhelmed, but, Kageyama approached him. This isn't Kageyama's fault either. While I do think he should have been able to tell it was a bad time to ask, Kageyama was an even younger child. He was never good at reading people either, so Kageyama can't be held accountable. Imagine, though, how Oikawa felt. He was in the middle of training so he wouldn't be replaced, and who decides to interrupt? The person he's trying not to be replaced by. Again, not Kageyama's fault, but you must understand that Oikawa was afraid. He was stuck in this swarm of negative thinking, and the very source of so much of his fear and insecurity was suddenly right in front of him. It wasn't right of him to do that, but you can understand why he did it.

That's another very interesting part of Oikawa. It was his worst fear come to life when he was subbed out for Kageyama in one of their games. It was too much for him, and he just finally snapped. Thankfully, Iwaizumi's lecture struck a chord in him, and he made an apparent effort to remember it. However, I don't think it made his fear go away. In fact, I think his fear of being replaced originated much before middle school. Obviously, I have no idea when exactly, but I would have to guess it started around the middle of elementary school at the latest. This is mainly because I believe Oikawa's obnoxious personality is a sort of defense mechanism used against this fear. Oikawa is objectively very good-looking, flamboyant and charming; he's also very popular among girls.

I found it very interesting that he was portrayed to be a heartthrob by the media, but was seen to be very immature and honestly quite annoying. Around his friends he acts very childish, but switches again to his charming persona when around fans or other classmates. It was fairly clear that something wasn't right. I wanted to believe it was just inconsistent writing, but one of Furudate's greatest strengths is building characters; I also saw no clear consistency problems with other characters. I believe that Oikawa switches personas depending on what reputation he's trying to uphold. We know Oikawa is insecure at heart, and we see him trying to play it off by being prideful.

If we go back to his fear of being replaced, I find reasonable to believe that Oikawa acts the way he does so that people don't get bored of him. He wants  a reputation, because that means people will know about him. Something that is consistent about his personas is that he's very sociable in both. He's childish, loud, and constantly wants attention, or he's always laughing, flirting, and joking. It's almost as if he believes that everybody will find someone new if he doesn't remind them he's still there. He thinks people will get bored of him, so he constantly tries to make sure people stay interested. A lot of people say that Oikawa is too annoying and narcissistic, but he does it because he's afraid people will get rid of him if he doesn't keep their attention.

That also leads to another major part of Oikawa's character. I actually believe this may be the biggest part of his overall character. There's something that sets Oikawa apart from every other character. Regardless of if you like him or not, you can't deny that there's an energy about him that's just different. He's the closest you'll get to an antagonist in Haikyuu, but you also get to see his soft sides. We see the love he has for volleyball and for his teammates. It's strange to see so many different sides of a character. It's also interesting how Ushijima wanted Oikawa join Shiratorizawa. It's understandable, considering Kageyama still hadn't developed and Oikawa was the best setter in the prefecture.

So, the question I always wanted to answer: Why didn't Oikawa go to Shiratorizawa? Yes, the fandom exaggerates it and loves to joke about it, but it was a real question for me at first. Oikawa wanted to go to Nationals, and joining Shiratorizawa would have guaranteed it. Best ace and best setter in the entire prefecture on one team? They would blow the competition away. It would have been much easier if Oikawa had indeed swallowed his pride and joined Shiratorizawa. However, it seems that it wasn't necessarily about all about "worthless pride". Of course it was a factor, but Oikawa wouldn't let his pride get in the way of his dreams; he's smarter than that.

It was then that I started to notice a recurring pattern with Oikawa. He's a direct opposition to the main characters. He refused to join a powerhouse team for an easy ticket to Nationals. He uses his personal strengths to improve instead of being upset over what he doesn't have. Oikawa is an incredibly unique character because of his sheer will to do things the way he wants. Oikawa is a setter; he's a control freak, but in a less direct way than Kageyama. He doesn't force everyone to adapt to him, yelling, "You better follow me!" Rather, he goes his own way and says, "Follow me if you dare."

He carves his own path, regardless of what others say. Seijoh was destined to lose from the beginning. Furudate loves symbolism in Haikyuu. Notice how every national level school is represented by an animal? The mighty eagle of Shiratorizawa, the wild crow of Karasuno, the clever cat of Nekoma, the soaring owl of Fukurodani? What does Aoba Johsai have? A castle. Aoba Johsai translates to Blue Castle. While the other teams fight, jump, and soar, Aoba Johsai is beautiful, strong, and reliable, but they will never fly. It was almost as if Oikawa went to Aoba Johsai simply to prove he didn't need Ushijima to go to Nationals. Looking at it like that, it indeed makes it look like Oikawa refuses to go to Shiratorizawa out of pride. However, I like to see it as more than that.

First of all, Oikawa's greatest wish was to defeat Shiratorizawa in order to go to Nationals. OIKAWA DOES NOT SETTLE. He refuses to settle for only half his dream. Maybe it's too prideful, but it would invalidate the years of hell he put himself through trying to accomplish it. It was like Ushijima was telling him, "Hey, you tried your best, didn't you? You can't beat me, and all your years of work are for nothing. Just join us and give it up." It was insulting to him. Oikawa's sheer perseverance was what got him where he was. He took everything the world threw at him and threw it right back. Suddenly, it all stops and he's offered an olive branch of sorts. The world doesn't offer everything he wants, but it's something. Just enough to get him to stop fighting back.

Oikawa wants all or nothing when it comes to his passions. It's risky, maybe not a very smart decision, but that's just who he is.He doesn't want the olive branch; he wants the whole damn tree. Oikawa wants to look at Ushijima, to scream from the top of the world, and tell everybody who didn't think he could make it, "I DON'T NEED YOU." He wants to show people they were wrong. No, he's not a genius, but he doesn't need to be one. He wants to follow his dreams his own way or he doesn't want it at all.

Second of all, Oikawa wanted to go to Nationals with Iwaizumi. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were together their entire lives. They played, they laughed, they cried, they won, they lost, but they were always together. Oikawa needs Iwaizumi specifically because he trusts that he'll never be dispensable to his best friend. Iwaizumi is his support, the way he grounds himself when things are too much. Oikawa and Iwaizumi want to go to Nationals together. It's not some fantasy they conjured up; it's their childhood dream. Oikawa wouldn't be willing to let go of that. Again, Oikawa refuses to settle. He wants to lead a team to Nationals with his partner, or he doesn't want it at all.

   Oikawa was willing to risk everything. He wanted to go all in. Maybe it was wrong, and maybe it was just worthless pride. Regardless, it shows us his unparalleled passion for the sport. He deserved so much better than what he got, but life isn't fair. Haikyuu shows us that. It's almost discouraging to see Oikawa lose. If you look at it, between Oikawa and Kageyama, Oikawa is actually the underdog. Kageyama is the genius player and Oikawa just tries his best. Haikyuu is an underdog story, but sometimes the roles are not as we think.

(⚠️!!SPOILERS FOR THE LAST CHAPTER!!⚠️)

When Oikawa is seen as the "final boss" as the official setter of Argentina's Olympic team, it's the cherry on top to confirm what type of character he is. THIS MAN WAS SO DAMN PETTY AND DETERMINED TO FOLLOW HIS DREAMS THAT HE IMMIGRATED TO A DIFFERENT HEMISPHERE. He was so determined to make his own path that he made a name for himself on the other side of the world. He was virtually unknown, and had to start from scratch all again. What happened? He actually did it, and now he's the main focus of his team. I have such a ridiculous amount of respect for Oikawa. The determination that man has is unparalleled.

I believe Furidate also uses Oikawa as a model to teach us that, yes, it's discouraging to be surrounded by people better than you, and failure is inevitable. However, it you can use those failures as a lesson to improve yourself, and if you stick to your goals until the very end, the world will get tired and it'll work out in the end. Oikawa tells us that it's okay to be bold; he tells us to understand that it takes time to succeed, and you will succeed. He tells us to treasure those who support us, because the trust they have in you is more than you could ever know. In the end, Oikawa really accomplishes his dreams. Maybe Iwaizumi isn't with him, but Oikawa has learned by then how to live without him and vice versa. Instead, he gets to fulfill his promise of defeating him when they face each other.

Oikawa never got to go Nationals, but now he's at Internationals. Now he finally gets to beat Ushijima, Kageyama, and Iwaizumi all in one spot. We don't even get to see the result of the match, which is actually something I love. Oikawa is the only one we know in Argentina; it would be unrealistic to try to decide a winner between the two teams if we don't know the strengths and weaknesses of each player. Regardless, we finally get to see Oikawa get what he deserves. Maybe it will work out for him, and maybe it won't. Something amazing about leaving an open ending is that we get to analyze the characters as we please, and we get to imagine what happens ourselves. It's actually one of Furudate's best pieces of symbolism in the whole series.

Their stories are not over yet. Maybe Oikawa loses again, but he keeps going. Maybe he finally throws the towel. Who knows? Characters are ever changing, but I believe Oikawa will stick to it. Then again, maybe his knee injury will force him to quit. Life is unpredictable, but Oikawa's determination has been constant throughout the whole show. The way he grew as a person, a player, and leader, just enraptured me to no end. Oikawa is one of the most fascinating characters I've ever come across. I don't like picking favorite characters, but I genuinely believe Oikawa is the most well written and complex.

That concludes my 3,000+ word rant/essay about the wonderful anomaly that is Tooru Oikawa. Honestly, there's definitely more that I forgot to incorporate or have not thought of, but this is what I have!! Thank you for reading through all that?? Also, I'm not going to go through that and edit it, so feel free to comment if anything makes no sense :)

[kitkat1003]

Tower Tales

2: The world doesn't want them. If Scratchy was a competent therapist, he might ask "How does that make you feel?"

Or: Wakko Almost Died, and they’ve got issues about it

@asilcorner I finally learned how to write Dot lol

Also this is a sequel pls read the first here

Yakko doesn't know anger.

Not well. He doesn't lose his temper often, doesn't find himself raging over little things, but this.

This makes him furious.

It settles in his chest and burns and he wants to scream, but there's no private place to do it. Wakko and Dot would hear, and the last thing he needs is their concern. They're in the same boat, they feel the same as him, he knows they're hurting too.

The world abandoned them, left them for dead, and they're just kids. They don't know what to do here.

Yakko has managed, in the few months-3 and half, 3 and half months and it feels like an eternity- they've been trapped here, to figure out how to make things, objects, beds. Wakko makes them better, actually, and Yakko is proud, but a part of him wonders if he's even useful, then.

He has his words, he supposes. He can soothe and snark and crack jokes with ease, lifting the heavy air that seems to swallow them whole any time they look towards the bolted shut door.

Yakko already has plans. He can figure them a way out of here. They can make a door, or use heat to melt the metal, or any sort of avenue in that regard. He just needs to get the ability. And, once they're out, they can wreak havoc. He's sure a parent would have told him that Revenge isn't a worthy pursuit, but he doesn't have a parent, does he?

And any facsimile thereof was fine with getting rid of them, so who needs parents anyway?

They've made themselves a bed-at first, they'd considered a bunk, but the idea of not having each other close enough to touch makes them all more uncomfortable than they're willing to admit, so they decide on a King Size bed instead.

God, Yakko missed blankets and a mattress.

At night, he slips out from beneath the covers, ruffling Wakko's hair and planting a kiss on Dot's forehead. He heads to the farthest end of the tower from the bed and runs a hand down his face and sighs.

It's funny to cry comically loud, but Yakko doesn't want to wake up his sibs, so he learns to be quiet as hot, angry, hurt tears fall down his face. He wants to rage and scream, he wants to tear the world to pieces word by word, but that is isn't funny. So he swallows it down like a bitter pill and learns how painful it can be to be mature.

He swears, when he gets them out of here, it'll be for good. His family deserves that much, at least.

He doesn't think he deserves it, though. Not that he'll say. He let the world trap the 3 of them in here, he let this happen. Why does he deserve to see the sun again?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko doesn't feel the fear of almost dying until a few days after he almost does.

They have a food stash now. Yakko is insistent, as Wakko learns how to make food appear, that they have extra just in case. What if Wakko loses the ability, what if he's too tired, too weak. What if Yakko and Dot aren't there to help?

The last excuse is so weak that Wakko hardly acknowledges it, because there's no way Dot or Yakko wouldn't be there for him.

Unless they got tired of him. A toon that needs to eat? Pathetic right?

Wakko knows what he's doing, anyway. He can make other types of food now, instead of just pie. He doesn't need to be babied, doesn't need to be take care of like he's too young to take care of himself.  

He expects Dot to temper Yakko's mother-henning, but she's uncharacteristically silent on the matter.  She even starts following him around, practically dragging him to get food when she thinks he hasn’t eaten enough in a day.

Wakko feels the fear of almost dying in the night, when he's supposed to be falling asleep. He stares up at the cold metal walls and ceiling and imagines closing his eyes and never opening them. He doesn't remember a lot from that day, remembers waking up to his limbs twitching and jerking without him being able to stop them, flashes of consciousness, Dot and Yakko screaming. He doesn't have a grasp on the timeline, everything fuzzy and unclear, and it adds to the fear. He woke up to the taste of banana cream on his tongue, exhausted and somehow blessedly full, and before he could even say a word he was hugged so tight it hurt.

The explanation he was given makes him wonder.  How could he be sure to be safe again?  What if they hadn’t figured it out?

What would they have done with his body?  Would they have moved it to a small spot towards the edge of the tower, backs turned to it day after day as they waited and tried to escape?  If they had escaped, would Plotz have been delighted to know that the most physically troublesome of the trio was truly out of his hair?

At least Dot and Yakko can talk their way out of things.  Wakko makes messes and has no words to clean them up.  It’s kind of pathetic, how dumb and tongue tied he can be, and now he’s not even physically normal, for a toon.  Dot and Yakko must think him terribly annoying to take care of.

He imagines himself, still as the grave, the first toon to die of starvation.  What a legacy.  Dying with only his siblings around him, in a small water tower he was imprisoned in.  Imprisoned in because he was a nuisance.  And he hardly even talked.  He got yelled at for eating random stuff, but he was hungry.  And clearly it was for a reason, considering he almost died because he couldn’t eat because they locked him in here with his siblings to rot, and-

He doesn’t realize he’s trembling until he feels Yakko shift, next to him, disturbed by his movements.  Wakko hops out of bed, and heads to their kitchenette.  It’s small, but it’s one of the first things they knew they’d need when turning the tower into a home.  They moved the food stash in there, in a pantry that says “For Emergencies” on it.  He contemplates going through it and leaving it empty, but Yakko already looks like he’s going to get gray hairs.  Wakko won’t add to that.  He pulls out the milk and pours it into a glass before setting it in the microwave.  He starts the timer for a minute and then grabs a sandwich from the mini fridge as he puts the milk jug away.

Good food and drink are always a remedy for terror, right?

When he’s done absolutely demolishing the kitchen, picking the shelves clean of anything edible, he stumbles back to bed, content to ignore his thoughts for a night.

It seems Yakko got up too, at some time.  The blanket is ruffled in a specific way.

It’s funny how, despite them getting up at similar times, they never seem to catch each other.  Wakko thinks, as he falls asleep, that’s probably why they never talk about it at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is cute.  She knows this.  She knew it from the moment she was drawn, that she would be adorable, the absolute most cutest toon in the world, with no contenders to take her spot.

But evidently, being cute doesn’t do much in the world she was made in, because she’s in the same spot as her brother’s, locked in a tower for forever.

She’d started doubting that the whole ‘Lock the Warner Siblings in the Water Tower’ thing was a joke far earlier than Yakko had.  Yakko hadn’t wanted to believe the world could be so mean, but she’s a pretty girl actress in Hollywood.  She knows exactly how disgusting the world can be, just in her first few weeks in it.  She’d entertained the idea for a week or so, of it being a joke, but as a month and a half passed she gave up, just a little.

But it wasn’t enough to soften the blow of knowing that Wakko could die without anyone caring besides Yakko and herself.

Yakko had been asleep when it started, but she’d been practicing ballet dances when Wakko’s body began to twitch and jerk without reason, a startled gasp escaping from his lips before he went terrifyingly silent.  She’d ran to Wakko’s side, screaming for him, and then for Yakko, because Wakko was so pale he was light gray and he looked so weak.

And she’d seen his hunger, hadn’t she?  Waved it off as if he were just complaining, when he had a genuine problem.  But Yakko thought of the solution, Yakko saved him, and she’d only watched.

Some sister she was.

Yakko institutes changes immediately afterwards, throwing himself into learning how to make objects that they can use to make the Tower a place to live instead of an empty room, and despite the fact that she doesn’t like being told what to do she says nothing, because she’ll do anything to keep that deep terror from gripping her again.

She doesn’t realize it, but she’s being clingy.  She hovers.  She follows Wakko and frowns when he doesn’t eat for too long-in her opinion.  He says he’ll eat when he’s hungry, but that’s not enough.  He needs to eat before he’s hungry, so that way he’ll never be hungry, and then he’ll never be that sick again.

And then she can stop waking up crying, dreaming of a world where Wakko isn’t there at all, just a still body on the metal floor, and Yakko is yelling at her for minimizing, because she made it seem less than it was, so it’s her fault, and Wakko is dead and it’s her fault and the corpse turns to dust and he’s gone and it’s her fault-

She’s dragging him to the kitchen one day, because he hadn’t eaten for four hours, and her heartbeat is a rapid fire pace in her chest, and he pulls away from her.

“I’m not hungry, Dot.  I’ll eat in a bit, promise. What’s your deal?” Wakko is so rarely annoyed at her or Yakko enough to make a fuss, but he clearly is now, and the fear that tightens her chest whirls her around and makes her shout.

“I’m not watching you die again!” She shouts back, and Yakko’s head whips in her direction from the chair he’s sitting in, and Wakko looks stunned.  She’s trembling, she realizes, and her vision is blurry from tears.  

Wakko is so, so gentle as he comes close, reaching up to wipe her tears from her eyes.

“I-uh-sorry, Dot, I didn’t mean-,” She pushes his hands away,  The last she needs is an apology from him because he almost died, as if that was his fault.

“No, no, don’t-I just,” She buries her face in her hands.  “It was so scary-and-and you act like it doesn’t matter!” She shouts, fists clenched, and Wakko takes a step back.

“It does-I just-food is hard to get down when I’m not hungry-and,” Yakko places a hand on her shoulder, from behind, and the action makes her jolt and quiets Wakko.  She watches him fidgets with the long sleeves of his sweater, anxious, and she hates herself for making him feel so unsure.

“When he’s hungry, it’s his body telling him he needs food, sis,” Yakko’s voice is very soft, and he kneels down to her eye level, talking to her plainly with his eyes looking into hers.  “Eating before that time could make him feel sick, and he could throw up what he eats, which would at the very least be unsanitary,” He chuckles to himself a little, and she smiles at the quip, before he continues.  “That’s probably why he isn’t eating 24/7 right now.  Plus, he was slowly starving himself before then because we didn’t know better,” he says we, and she wonders if he knows that she blames herself solely, and is saying that to make her feel better, “so his body isn’t used to having food around.  He’ll get his appetite back up.  Promise,” Everything he says makes sense, but she’s still terrified.

“But-,” What if that’s not enough?  What if he eats too late?  What if it happens again?

“I’ve been making sure he’s eating enough,” Yakko continues, cutting her rebuttal off. “3 meals a day at least.  I make him breakfast in the morning, when you’re still asleep.  I know how much he’s eating, and I’ll make sure it never gets like that again.  So, if you’re still worried, just trust me with this, okay?” He smiles, and when he phrases it like that, she can do nothing but agree.

“Okay,” She manages to get out, and Yakko pulls her into a hug.  She cries into his shoulder, hiding her face because crying isn’t cute, and he rubs her back, whispering comforting words into her ear.

When he lets go, Wakko pulls her in, and his sweater is very soft.  She buries herself into it, and he doesn’t complain about the snot and tears she’s likely getting on it.

“Sorry for worrying you,” he says.  “I’ll try to eat more.”

She feels so silly, and so very small, and so very dumb, making her brothers worry like this.

“Don’t make yourself sick,” She lets out a wet giggle, wiping her eyes as Wakko lets her go.

Yakko cooks dinner, and makes her one of her favorites.  She watches Wakko eat three times the amount she does, and she feels satisfied.

That night, she doesn’t sleep for a long time.  She has too many thoughts in her head.  She turns, and she sees Wakko and Yakko, sleeping soundly.  Wakko looks healthy, but she can’t forget how he looked then.

She can’t let herself fall apart over this.  Yakko worries enough, and Wakko almost died.  The last thing they need is an overemotional sister breaking down all the time.

Maybe that’s why the world let her get locked up.  She’s cute, but it doesn’t matter if she’s too over the top.  An emotional woman is an unattractive one.  There’s nothing cute about crying, after all.

She resolves herself to be better, and the next morning she wakes up to have breakfast with her brothers, and doesn’t let her smile slip an inch.

[hanibalistic]

#ECECBE | YANG JEONGIN.

genre | fluff, a little angst, a little bittersweetness, royal au, arranged marriage au

word count | 1590

warning | none

note | this is not all fluff, unfortunately... i hope you still like it though! thank you for requesting (˶′◡‵˶)･:*:･。

request | @bangchansmullet0310​

you fixed the crooked tie sitting on jeongin's neck, and he looked at you as if he was about to lose something.

supposed, though, he would soon be losing something important to him.

the velvet box holding a shining ring, seated comfortably in the pocket of your blazer, one you would be handing to him soon at the alter of his wedding with the neighbor princess, was the prime object of the final stage of his teenage years.

"you look nervous," you commented as you placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your palm. you found that his heart was beating slow, at a normal pace.

"i'm not nervous, i just don't want to get married," he responded with a permanent frown, one he knew you would smack off of him when it was time for him to stand at the altar, waiting for the bride to arrive.

you heaved a sigh. you never had a say in such matter. being the palace staff, and the prince's escort, you were merely supposed to stand close to him and keep quiet as he goes about his daily tasks—studying, meeting, hunting, partying, and more studying. until one day, things took a turn, and instead of discussing management tactics, he got involved in a royal marriage.

you watched him try to argue his way out of the set proposal, one he had no choice but to accept. he whined and complained and stomped about not wanting to hold such heavy responsibility at the age of eighteen, but none of his tantrums have ever worked against his father's decision.

he was set to get married and that was it.

"princess kim is a lovely person, it may not be a bad thing to be married to her," you said softly, taking a gentle step back. "you may have fallen in love with her down the line anyway. why not consider this a jump in progress? just a little mess up in the timeline."

jeongin looked at you, his eyes wavering with both a bitter taste and an unexplainable love. it wasn’t about princess kim, he thought you understood. or perhaps you did understand, but the true reason behind him not wanting to get married was a matter so out of your control that you had to boil it down to him not loving his bride to be of useful comfort.

he thought you should know that this wasn’t about love. his unwillingness to get married—it wasn’t about affection. everyone was trying so hard to make it about love, but it wasn’t all about that. it was about the loss of his freedom after being tied to the title as a husband and a future king. 

it was about not being able to act like a teenager anymore and having his maturity overestimated simply because he turned eighteen. people have the misconception that once he turned eighteen he would understand things, he would know things, and he would get over things to abide by his duties. 

as if he wasn’t still the boy who cried at his desk because he couldn’t handle the schoolwork, as if he wasn’t still the boy who occasionally needed his tears and snot wiped by his best friend because he was too tired to do anything by himself, as if he wasn’t still the boy who had once sunk out the palace to buy medicine because the royal cabinet would ever open for a mere staff like you.

seeing that he had nothing else to say, but his expression remained groggy and grim, you pushed your hands together before your abdomen and you sighed. “it seems this calls for an emergency dance party.”

shaking his head to clear out his foggy thoughts, jeongin gave you a pointed glare before he asked, “a what?”

“an emergency dance party,” you said, leaving his side and moving over to the table.

jeongin watched as you knelt by a cabinet, mumbling something under your breath as you opened the doors and reached inside so you could pull out an old, dusty, vinyl record player. you set it on the top surface of the cabinet before kneeling again to search through the small collection someone had carelessly kept hidden in the room. 

“how is that going to help the situation right now?” he frowned when you began to pull the vinyl out of its packaging. 

“do you have any other suggestions, then, aside from escaping from the wedding?” you retorted casually as you carefully placed the vinyl on the player. you messed with the buttons and slowly pulled the headshell over to the vinyl. 

jeongin tilted his head to the side, his brows still furrowed when an upbeat instrumental song scratched to life with the old device. he didn’t feel like dancing at all, especially not to such a boppy, happy song. his head was still feeling gloomy and annoyed that he has to kiss a girl he’s not fond of in a few hours, there was absolutely no jumpy element in his limbs right now.

but you sure seemed swell. dressed in a pretty blazer, with little glittering badges pinned to your white shirt, and a pair of high-quality, velvety black pants that you would never be able to afford on your own. it was the royal groomsmen outfit jeongin had to beg his mother to convince his father to let you wear, and you looked unsurprisingly good in it.

"come on, jeongin, we have maxed out our solutions," you encouraged as you glided over to him in your expensive shoes. you grabbed a hold of his hands, bringing them up and putting him in a waltzing position. "dancing is all we have left."

his feet automatically moved with you. this wasn't the first time you two danced your sorrows away; he was trained to accompany you, his body knew how to match yours in a flowing rhythm. he knew how to dance with you, and he knew how to make himself feel okay when he danced with you.

it was all you two could do. dancing with each other, shaking the woes away from your body, and drowning in music, as well as the absurdity of your impromptu dance moves. it was all you two have left to do with each other before you send him off to his future wife, and you would no longer hold the duty of being by his side twenty-four-seven.

it would be a big step for both of you, so you two have to dance out the fear of unfamiliarity and change together.

"i don't really like this song!" he exclaimed after you two separated from each other.

"it's either this or some sad violin, you pick!"

jeongin grinned, trying to even out his pants as he jumped and spun and kicked like the child he still was. "maybe we should have an emergency crying party! with sad songs playing and we cry more than we have to."

you raised your brows, tapping your feet and high-fiving him when you two brushed shoulders. one twirl after another, you finally made your way back to his side. standing before him, the proximity comfortable and friendly, and you giggled. "i will consider that."

his chest heaved with huffs of short breathes—moving so much in such tight clothing was not the best idea. he would probably have to fix himself up again, but it felt worth it in return for a burst of sunshine indoors. you read his thoughts vaguely, and you reached up to slightly redo his messy hair.

jeongin stared at you then, and you smiled with a brief look into his eyes before you returned to his hair. 

you weren’t afraid of his eyes anymore, you had not been for a long time. he wasn’t sure when he noticed that and how long it took him to get used to it, but you could look into his eyes now. and the swirling in his chest, the awful swirling he could never get tired of, that one deeper part of him that he would keep with him forever, made him realize one simple thing.

maybe this is about his disappointment in realizing that his affection for you could never go further than this despite him wanting to, in knowing that he wanted to fall in love with you, in ways more than being best friends and being partners in crime, but the chance would soon be ripped away from him because of an arranged marriage.

“hey.”

he looked at you, asking you to speak.

your hand trailed down his hair, the tenderness of your nails rolling past his skin in a haunting sensation. you might have heard his mind, you might have known that he once had the tendency to trip head over heels for you, and you might know that he would restrict himself from that now. but you showed nothing of it; everything bright in your eyes was only directed toward him and not yourself.

“i’m still going to be here even after you get married,” you said.

jeongin smiled. it wasn’t bittersweet, he was happy. he still wasn’t fond of getting married, for sure, but he was happy that you were here to walk him through everything. he knew he would still have someone to talk to, and perhaps he could change up his pace and anticipate falling in love with someone else instead.

he leaned forward and bumped his forehead against yours, laughing. “thank you.”

because maybe this is about love.

[bisexualsforprompto]

Puppy Love

Thanks @kceedraws for helping me with this (awhile ago lol) and coming up with Gilfred

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a crisp, clear autumn day, all was calm in nature, but all was chaos in the Wayne Manor.

Alfred was having a guest over, well two guests, and Jason, Dick, and Tim were having lots of fun trying to guess who it was.

“An ex-spy?”

Alfred groaned in annoyance as he set the cookies out on the table. “No, Master Todd, not an ex-spy.”

“An ex-assassin?”

“Bloody hell.” Alfred cursed under his breath, “No!”

Tim snorted causing Dick and Jason to look at him. Jason raised his eyebrow, “Oh yeah? What do you think, replacement?”

“An ex-girlfriend.”

Alfred didn’t respond.

Dick spat out the water he was drinking. “No way! No way! It totally is your ex!”

“If I say yes will you be civilized in front of her? She’s bringing her granddaughter too, she’s Master Damian’s age.” Alfred swatted Dick’s hand away from the cookies.

“Speaking of which, where is the demon?” Jason asked, scanning the room.

“Master Damian is with Master Bruce in the Batcave. Miss Cassandra is down there as well, training.” Alfred stated, “Speaking of which, I should go get them. Gina will be arriving soon.”

The boys snickered quietly to themselves as Alfred entered the Batcave. Each of them were equally astonished that Alfred even had ex-girlfriends, but they all realized that he must’ve been young once.

Cass trudged up the stairs and stood wordlessly next to the couch in the living room. Damian and Bruce came out next, Damian was scowling from having his training interrupted (by what he called “a frivolous waste of time”).

Damian slumped onto the couch, pouting. Dick walked over with a grin and rubbed his little brother’s hair. Damian pulled away with a snarl,

“Grayson if you touch my hair one more-“

Damian’s threat was interrupted by the sound of a doorbell and the abrupt opening of the manor doors by Alfred.

“Alfie!” A slender old woman exclaimed as she took off her motorcycle helmet. From behind her, a small blue-black haired girl shifted shyly and gave a small wave to the family butler.

“Welcome Gina, and I presume...Miss Marinette?”

With a slight nod, Marinette crept back behind her grandmother.

“Do come in ladies, the Waynes are in the living room.” Alfred bowed his arm out and gestured to the couch. Gina flicked his bow tie and laughed.

“Quite a nice home you’re looking after.”

“I suppose it is.”

Alfred took Gina’s helmet and hung it on the coat rack. Following her Nonna like a puppy, Marinette silently sat on the couch.

Dick was barely containing his excitement, Alfred’s ex-girlfriend and her adorable granddaughter who could very well be Alfred’s granddaughter?! He was practically bouncing off the walls. Jason was sitting next to him with an arrogant smirk, studying the eleven-year old in front of them, who had just glanced over at Damian, like he knew something they didn’t.

Tim was silent and had an objective, but calculating look on his face. Cass had a hidden smile on her face and Damian…

Well Damian was scowling.

From the moment that little kid laid eyes on him she started blushing and her blue eyes may as well have been heart eyes. With a huff, Damian shifted away from her, much to Marinette’s dismay.

Although Damian was only eleven himself, he thought Marinette a little child unworthy of his attention. Even before he went to live with his father he knew women and men alike would throw themselves at him in order to have an in with his family (after all, the Al Guhl’s were just as influential as the Waynes).

Damian had no interest in even talking to the girl. He had every intention to ignore her in fact.

That proved difficult though.

With a shit-eating grin, Jason announced, rather obnoxiously, “Why don’t you let the two kids play with each other while we talk?”

Damian was about to interrupt, showing Jason a threatening slicing motion across his own neck.

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Gina exclaimed, clasping her hands together. Before Marinette or Damian could blink, Gina was shoving them to the front yard. “Have fun, my fairy!” She cooed as she shut the door.

Before Damian could get away Marinette ran in front of him and kissed both of his cheeks. Repulsed, Damian jumped away and tried to run, but before he could make his great escape Marinette spoke.

“Bonjour, I’m Marinette. And you?”

“Not interested.” Damian said shoving Marinette away.

Marinette’s face turned to one of a kicked puppy, but nevertheless, she persisted. With an overdramatic pout she huffed to him,

“You could at least tell me your name instead of being grumpy.”

Anger in his eyes, Damian flipped himself around to face her. “Damian.” He said begrudgingly through gritted teeth.

“See, that wasn’t so hard!” Grabbing his wrist she dragged him over to the grassy part of the yard, “Now what should we play?”

“Nothing. I don’t have time to waste with your frivolous play time pursuits.”

Marinette cocked her head, “Well what do you wanna do?”

“I want to go upstairs and study in peace.”

Marinette’s eyes lit up, “Can I come?”

Damian whipped his head around and opened the front door, “No.”

To emphasize his rejection, he slammed the door in her face before she could follow him in.

~~~~~~

The visits with Gina and Marinette that followed all ended eerily similarly. Marinette doting over him with her puppy love, and Damian taking her affection and shoving it away.

But soon Marinette got too busy to come to Gotham with her grandmother (to the relief of Damian) and after a while of not seeing her, he was content to pronounce that annoying chapter of his life, closed.

That is until the Wayne gala.

Damian expected a night of boring business exchanges and businessmen trying to set him up with their daughters, after all Damian was sixteen and had matured enough to look like a proper young man.

He expected to see lots of women, but never in a million years did he expect to see the obnoxious girl from his childhood, Marinette Dupain-Chang.

And yet, there she was, he missed her walk in, but he didn’t miss her talking to his father.

Stomping over to them, Damian glared at his brothers, who were giggling at the youngest Wayne’s reaction to the aspiring designer's arrival.

“What are you doing here?” Damian hissed, skipping the pleasantries.

“Damian…” Bruce’s tone had an air of warning to it.

“Did you invite her, father?!”

“No.” Marinette said, crossing her arms, “Adrien Agreste invited me as his plus-one.”

Damian stood there dumbfounded. He didn’t even know little miss nobody Dupain-Chang knew the Agreste model. He wrinkled his nose, “Why would he invite you?”

“Damian,” Bruce commanded, “Don’t be rude.”

Marinette mirrored Damian’s scowl, “Is it so hard to believe we’re friends? His best friend couldn’t make it, so he invited me instead.”

Damian raised a brow, but before he could open his mouth Adrien Agreste appeared with a grin.

“I see you met Damian, Marinette!”

“Actually we already know each other.” Marinette said coolly.

“Really?” Adrien asked with a warm smile, “What a weird coincidence.”

Hoping the situation was now resolved, Bruce walked over to greet some other guests.

“I’m so glad two of my friends are getting along!”

Marinette smiled at Adrien dumbly with a blush as Damian responded, “We’re not friends.”

Unfazed, Adrien placed his hand on Damian’s shoulder, “Well I hope we can change that then.”

“Not likely.” Damian muttered underneath his breath as he stalked off.

Damian tried not to watch from afar as he brooded in the corner, but he found his eyes wandering anyway.

Adrien and Marinette were giggling, Damian wasn’t quite sure why, but he knew he didn’t like it. He half expected Marinette to follow him when he stormed off, but no, she was too busy doting over Adrien.

Damian crossed his arms with a huff.

“Somebody’s jealous,” Dick said in a teasing tone.

Damian tutted, “What nonsense are you on about now, Grayson?”

Dick gave Damian a knowing smirk, “Just that you haven’t taken your eyes off of Marinette since-“

“If you’re implying I’m jealous of the Agreste kid because of Dupain-Chang, then you’re delusional.”

Dick shrugged and held his hands up in mock surrender, “Sure, whatever you say little D.”

When his pesky brother finally walked away, Damian focused back on Marinette and Adrien. The blonde boy was extending his hand out to Marinette, causing her to blush.

Damian rolled his eyes, they were so effortlessly agitating, so they were perfect for each other.

Never mind that that particular thought made him more annoyed than before.

Taking her onto the ballroom dance floor, Adrien spun Marinette around. Her face was completely red, but she had the stupidest cute grin on her face.

Damian stomped out of the ballroom, not wanting to watch more. He told himself that he just wanted to go take a break from all the obnoxious business people in the room.

Damian walked aimlessly to the kitchen, where Alfred was currently preparing more food for the guests. Alfred’s eyes furrowed as he looked at Damian.

“What’s wrong Master Damian?” He asked with genuine concern.

“Nothing that concerns you, Pennyworth.” Damian responded with a biting tone.

After seeing Alfred’s unamused expression, Damian sighed, “I didn’t think Dupain-Chang was going to be here tonight.”

Alfred hid his smile, “Ah, and that’s a bad thing? Is she giving you a lot of attention again?”

“No,” Damian scowled, “I don’t understand it. Something must have happened to create a change in her behavior, but I cannot figure it out. She showed up with the Agreste kid, so perhaps her standards have lowered.”

Alfred shook his head disapprovingly, “Master Damian, I thought you didn’t like the affection you got from her, shouldn’t this be a good thing?” Alfred bit his lip, wondering if it would be a good idea to continue, “Unless, of course, you have feelings for the young lady?”

“I most certainly do not!” Damian shot back, “I...just got used to the attention I suppose. Now she’s cold with me.”

“Like you were with her all those years ago?”

“No!” Damian let out a resigned huff at Alfred’s BS-detecting expression, “...yes.”

“Do you think maybe she realized after all those years when you treated her poorly, that she started having a crush on those who were less...blunt?”

“I suppose it’s a possibility.” Damian muttered.

Alfred hummed, “Master Damian, I can tell you first hand that each of the women in Miss Marinette’s family are remarkable. I missed my chance, but you don’t have to. Speak to her, or you’ll regret it, I know I did…”

In silent contemplation about Gina, Alfred went back to cooking.

Damian looked at his shoes for a minute, seemingly trying to figure out if he should take his butler’s advice. After a beat of hesitation, Damian went back into the party. He walked into the ballroom like a man on a mission, and of course, he did have one.

To get her back.

Tags:

@ira-sairain

@dawnwave16

@maribat-is-lifeblood

@sleepy-red-bug

@buticaaba

@thestressmademedoit

@thanks-captain-obvious

[robinsarm]

Just a Little Anxiety Before you Leave

I’ve unfortunately allowed one of my in game habits to fester and it’s now become a short, one off fic for the Zarina x Deathslinger ship. Enjoy :)

(Word count: ~2400)

(Some mature topics included)

-

There were times Zarina could get along with the killer she’d arrived with, The Deathslinger. He may have been very rough around the edges and you needed a pickaxe to break through his cold and unforgiving demeanor. But, Zarina had done that on many occasions before. However, right now, Slinger was getting on the girl’s nerves. 

She’d been left on the dusty ground of Dead Dawg Saloon for the fifth time now. It wasn’t anyone’s outright fault, the killer just didn’t seem to want to hook her past the first time a few minutes into the trial. She’d had the foresight to bring a loadout that countered such strategies, but it only worked as long as her teammates were feeling altruistic. 

They weren’t...not this trial at least. 

Yui was busy keeping Slinger’s attention, Nancy was making sure not a totem was left in the small town, and Quentin...well, Quentin had fallen asleep. The killer got tired of hearing those unrelenting crows circle over the boy, so he’d been killed off quickly. 

As Yui was placed onto her second hook of the trial, Nancy finally made it to Zarina who’d been crawling towards her the entire time. 

“Sorry,” Nancy tried to apologize, but Zarina didn’t stay to hear her out. She turned on her heels and sprinted towards the old saloon. There was a chest out back she wanted to search and, hopefully, get a med kit. However, before she could even pass the killer shack, Nancy screamed, having been speared by the relentless bounty hunter. 

Zarina let her head fall back in defeat; why did it always seem like she had to babysit the entire trial? Rolling her eyes, Zarina took a right instead of her intended left and quickly hobbled back towards the water tower. Yui was hooked right behind the dilapidated buildings lining a majority of the town. By the time Zarina got there, the poor girl looked like she’d been beaten to an inch of her life. 

“I got you-”

“Don’t!” Yui interrupted her, shocking Zarina into stepping back.

“What? Why?” Zarina asked quickly and instinctively looked down at her feet.

“Nancy’s on death hook,” Yui said with a struggle, right as their last teammate was stabbed to the ground. “One of us is going to make it out. Just take it,” she added, referring to the hatch. 

“Why don’t you take it? You can run him better than I can,” Zarina protested, raising her arms to either side of Yui’s torso. 

Yui shook her head, her fight with the Entity swiftly coming to a close. “I’m done with this trial.” Her grip on the Entity’s claws began to slip. In a panic, Yui shouted, “There’s a med kit in the basement,” before the Entity plunged it’s finger-like claws into her body and hoisted her into the sky. 

Zarina couldn’t stand watching that part of the sacrifice. She’d seen it plenty but it still didn’t get any easier. She wiped Yui’s blood from her face and neck before beginning the search for healing anew. Nancy was hooked not five seconds later; now Zarina was in a rush. 

Thankfully, the killer didn’t immediately come for her, so Zarina made it to the basement before ever catching sight of the cowboy. Yui was correct, in the chest was a completely unused Emergency med kit. For a moment, Zarina wondered if Quentin had searched the chest but left the kit for someone else. Like the thousands of times before, Zarina unpacked the kit and used it effortlessly on herself until there wasn’t a wound left bothering her. 

Leaving the med kit behind, Zarina bolted from the basement, knowing her time was limited. Find the hatch, that was her only objective at this point. As she left the basement, a feint but noticeable ringing buzzed in her eardrums. She knew what that noise was and already knew it was too late. 

In less than a second, the killer shot his gun sending the precisely aimed spear directly into her right side. Not only was she primed to lose another health state, but she quickly realized she was about to lose them both. That spear hit sent a wave of nausea through her system, her skin erupted with goosebumps and she gained the overwhelming thought that she was going to die. 

She was exposed. 

Zarina yanked on the spear, trying to pull it loose, meanwhile glaring at the killer. “You brought the coin, you fuck!” she screamed at him as he pulled her closer. 

“You’re only figurin’ this now?” he yelled back, then laughed as he slashed her to the floor. 

Going from fully healthy to dying on the ground was something Zarina hated worse than anything. That action usually broke bones or tore major arteries. It hurt worse than anything Zarina had ever experienced, so she avoided it no matter the cost. But now, she was back on the ground - back to where she started. Now, she was bordering on hating this man. 

“Can’t you just-” Zarina paused to spit out a glob of blood out from the back of her throat- “kill me?”

The Deathslinger chuckled whilst reloading his weapon. “Now why would I do that?”

“Fuck you, Quinn,” Zarina hissed as he got closer. 

“Oh,” Slinger cooed. “Big words coming from the person who takes them literally.” The killer had dropped low, practically down to Zarina’s level to give her that comeback. He was so close she could feel him breathing on her neck. She knew what he was doing. He’d toyed with her before. She wasn’t going to give him any sort of satisfaction this time, however. She remained stone-faced, staring straight out into the small, desert town, all the while trying to ignore him and the heat flushing her cheeks. 

Slinger laughed again when she didn’t responded then resumed his position, towering over her. “Quit bein’ so stoic. You’re missin’ your escape.”

“My escape?” Zarina questioned in her head then gave the killer a narrow stare. 

Slinger was still smiling, but he was shifting his gaze between her and something off down the road. Zarina considered the circumstance then pulled herself forward into the dusty road. Turning her head was all she needed to do to see it - the hatch. Down towards the center of town, the metal square seeping black fog mocked her from its impossibly far distance. She gave Slinger another look, this time with more spite behind it. 

“Well go on then,” he joked. “I haven’t been pickin’ you up, have I?” With that, the killer walked a few paces in front of her, then turned around and waited for her. 

Zarina wanted to scream, maybe even throw a fit and call him a few choice words that would really get her killed. Instead, she lamented, took a long painful breath, and began the crawl. 

Right off the bat, the gravel scraping her ribcage and stabbing into her open wounds was enough to make her want to quit. Mixing that with Deathslinger’s added nervous ticks as he waited “patiently” only made her more irritated. The man wouldn’t know how to keep still if his life was on the line. He paced, he tapped his good foot, he inspected his gun and even began cleaning it in a few spots. It was the comments that slowly picked at Zarina.

“Damn your slow for a young one,” or “I think my mum, 6 feet under, might beat ya to it.”

The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she’d brought Tenacity. The distance between her and Slinger and the hatch were all closing fast. If she had to endure this harassing torture at normal crawling speeds, Zarina would have just given up. 

As Zarina passed the stagnant killer, she let herself wonder if he was actually letting her go. But, like the godly timing this killer always seemed to have, Slinger smothered that thought as she heard the spurs of his boots clinking towards her. She stopped just as Slinger stepped over her, now standing with a boot on either side of her ribcage.

“What?” she grumbled as she tried to look back up at him. 

“You’re goin’ a bit faster than usual. Remind me what you’re runnin,” Slinger asked with a tone in his voice Zarina didn’t like. He was tormenting her and now she was wishing she hadn’t used her Unbreakable earlier in the trial. 

“Tenacity,” she answered begrudgingly. 

“Ah, that’s right. How ‘bout we slow ’r down a bit,” Slinger insisted more than asked. 

Zarina almost immediately ignored him and continued crawling; it was an action she instantly regretted when Slinger prodded his spurs into her sides. She yelped and tried rolling away only to be stopped by Slinger’s other leg. 

“Slow it down,” Slinger repeated more firmly this time, then resumed his normal stance. 

The list of things Zarina wanted to call Slinger at this point had reached an extended scrolls length. She was so fed up and just wanted to go back to the campfire. She could rant and rave there about how annoying he and this entire trial had been. Most likely she was just going to sleep her anger away like she always did. Sleep sounded intoxicating at that moment, so Zarina focused on that. 

The survivor made a conscious effort not to move too quickly. She’d start a crawl then stop, making sure no part of her was about to run into the knives that were Slinger’s spurs. As she crawled, Slinger stepped up with her, slow and steady. That’s how they moved for what felt like minutes. She crawls an inch, he steps forward, she crawls a few more inches, he steps forward again. Zarina hated it. 

Eventually, Zarina ignored the killer entirely and focused on only two things: the rhythm and the heavenly whistle of the hatch not 10 meters away from her. She counted the meters the best she could. 9...8...7. With each passing moment, Zarina’s heart pounded harder and harder with excitement, with hope. Adrenaline was surging through her veins, making her shaky. Once she was close enough, Zarina forgot all about the killer above her and resumed crawling at her faster pace. 

Another mistake she was quickly corrected on.

“Now what did I tell ya!” Slinger reprimanded as he reached down and grabbed her shirt. 

“No! Wait,” Zarina screamed. 

She was so close. If she reached out she’d be able to touch the edge of the metal escape. Just one more second and she’d be gone.

“You messed up Kassir. Shoulda listened,” the killer taunted as he slugged her effortlessly onto his shoulder. 

Tears welled in Zarina’s eyes. Another death. After all that torment, she’d let herself believe that he was going to let her have it. She felt embarrassed and humiliated. For once, she let herself cry. Instead of wiggling at a chance for freedom, she gripped onto the back of his coat and held on for dear life. 

“Caleb, please,” she begged with a shaky voice. “I’m sorry, please. I’m sorry.”

The killer stopped in his tracks and gripped onto Zarina’s shirt tighter. “I ain’t fallin’ for your crocodile tears-”

“I’m not faking!” She screamed as more tears leapt from her eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Slinger lamented softly. He was hearing the emotion in her voice now. Setting his weapon against the shack wall, Slinger used both hands to gently slide the survivor off his shoulder. Zarina didn’t get far before she latched onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugging his throat like she’d fall off if she didn’t.

“Love, I was only playin’,” Slinger said, trying his best to calm the girl that was glued to his torso. “I was gonna give ya’ the damn hatch.”

Zarina didn’t try to make any additional comments. She was currently focused on keeping herself quiet. She may have felt like an absolute hot mess but she didn’t want to irritate the man any further with her sniffling and lack of control over her emotions. 

Slinger, trying his absolute best, gently patted Zarina on the back while he paced around the area. Eventually, he figured she needed support, and he needed a bit of weight off his lungs, so Slinger lifted her up under her thighs. All Zarina could offer in return was a small apology that barely escaped her throat without cracking.

“I really get you this wired?” Slinger asked genuinely as he walked over to the windowsill of the shack to lean against it.

 “No, I just-” Zarina cut herself short, feeling her throat about to give out again. 

“Settle, love,” Slinger whispered and gently kissed her shoulder. “Breathe for a minute.”

“ ‘m sorry,” she mumbled into his coat. 

“Quit your apologizin’. You didn’t do nothin’,” Slinger said. “Shoot your shit when you’re calm enough.”

A man of many words this one wasn’t, but Zarina liked that. Slinger was always straight to the point, sometimes being a little harsh, but she could take it. She’d be a pretty bad journalist if she couldn’t handle a few expletives. 

Eventually, the survivor got around to calming her mild panic attack. At the first sign of her settling down, Slinger questioned again if she needed to speak her mind. There wasn’t much Zarina could say that she hadn’t already vented to him about before. So, she just shook her head and feigned exhaustion before trying to remove herself from the killer’s arms. 

“I don’t give a shit how tired you are,” Slinger told her flatly. He kept her fixed to his chest then began the short walk back to hatch. “When you get back to your friends, bring your ass right on back here.”

Zarina raised an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. “What do you have here that I’d want?” she asked, playing along. 

Slinger shrugged. “Quiet night. Apology whiskey. Maybe some make-up sex.”

Heat rushed to Zarina’s face again as she tried to stifle an excited laugh. “Whiskey’s fine.” 

“And so are you,” Slinger quickly added before safely dropping her at the foot of the hatch. “Now hurry on and get your ass on back here.”

Zarina laughed for a moment before her wounds reminded her that she’d better get going. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said softly before dropping into the cool darkness of her escape, fully intending on returning to the blazing heat of that old western town. 

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Four || “April 10, 1912″

“I’m the king of the world!”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

     Bells were ringing for miles as crowds formed both before and at the ports, the buzzing of excitement and utter joy radiating through the doors of your overly-crowded automobile. Cheers from all the awaiting passengers contradicted your current mental state. For you, it was just another ship - simply new. You had stayed in overpriced rooms before, eaten at countless never-ending buffets, been given towels with a special “scent” which simply had a hint of cheap perfume, and even eaten from plates and utensils engraved with real gold. So the size of this ship, the luxury it supposedly had, or the brilliance of its story, did not do much to excite you. 

     You rolled a piece of thread in between your fingers and looked out your car window at the street. You could feel their shouts vibrating from the street below you, adding an extra rhythm to the automobile that seemed humanly impossible. You watched people dance and drink, and it took you only a moment to realize that these people weren’t even going to travel with you. They were simply here to enjoy the momentous atmosphere, watch history in the making, and say goodbye to their loved ones. 

     With your mother and Cal in deep conversation and George focusing on the outside world as well, you actually allowed yourself to smile. Perhaps this was a good thing - to travel back home and see just how much had changed. You admit, the political and social world was most likely unchanged and that London was much more lenient to who joined certain higher-ranked circles, but America must have some good qualities they adopted over the years. New inventions, food, culture and religion, play-writing - anything that you had an interest in you tried to think of as brightly American. You removed your hat to comb your hand through your thick hair and to wipe the excess sweat building on your hairline, the summer air becoming a little too musty for your liking.  Your smile remained bright as you reached the long lines of actual passengers, both second and third class, going through their health inspections and bag checks. Lots of them would stop and stare at the first class carriages and automobiles that passed them quickly, some annoyed and some fascinated. It never bothered you when the lower class mocked you or spoke ill of the current political and economic systems, as you whole-heartedly agreed with them. If your late father taught you one thing it was that the system was deeply flawed and would remain that way as long as those in power who have never experienced injustice in their lives were allowed to live believing in business as usual. And yet, the total irony of you marrying into one of the wealthiest and greediest capitalist families in Europe was forever going to feel like a knife twisting into your back. 

     Just as your car passed the last round of third class health inspections, you leaned further toward the window to get a better view of the group of children laughing and pushing each other side to side. You grinned widely as you passed them, but your face fell almost instantly as you noticed the look of disgust from an older man. In the short seconds of that encounter, he had looked through your veil of upper-class protection and judged the color of your glowing skin, something that most people in your social circle in London chose to ignore. With your father’s influence and money, this issue was never even labeled as such, but to someone in another world, you were likely worth less than the piece of paper granting you passage on board. 

    You swallowed hard and leaned back against the red velvet seat, pulling your hat right back on to avoid the stares of the real world. 

     Over on the other side of the docks, just a mere distance from all the packed commotion, Harry held onto his sister’s hands as she said her goodbyes. 

     “Don’t you go spending all that money on art and women, you hear?” 

     Harry gasped and faked a gag, smiling down at his sister. “How rude of you to even think of me spending money on art I can simply draw myself and women I can woo with no fee.”

     Both his sister and mother leaned in for a giant shared hug, each one already imagining the next time they would see each other. 

     “It’s only a few months. You’ll be in the states with me before you know it,” Harry snuggled closer to his mother as she hugged him tighter. 

     “I know, but it’s the first time you’re leaving home on your own and…” she choked on a gasp, barely holding it together. The amount of prayers she recited last night didn’t seem efficient and she made a mental note to say double the moment she returned home. 

     “I’ll be okay. I’ll write as soon as I’m settled.”

     “Just be careful, okay? I hear they’re not as kind as we are here across the Atlantic,” his sister laughed, giving him one final, tight side squeeze and handing him his carry-on bags. 

     “You know, I heard that, too,” Harry joked. 

     “Be careful, we’re not joking,” his mother said, grabbing his chin gently and turning his face toward hers. “We’re not joking. Be safe.”

     Harry leaned down and kissed his mother’s forehead, rubbing her back up and down rapidly as if that somehow kept his own tears at bay. But he grinned brightly and placed another kiss on his mother’s forehead and on his sister’s, and reached down to pick up his two carry-ons and his father’s briefcase. 

     “I promise. I love you both. The stars will tell you where I am and who I’m with.”

     His sister was the first to let him go, “Alright, my little scientist! Get going and make us some money!”

     Harry laughed loudly, patiently waiting for his mother to release her grip. “Not a scientist, but an amateur astronomer!”

     His mother sniffed into her elbow and quickly rubbed her cheek, looking away momentarily before she collected herself and gave Harry her best broken but proud smile. 

     “Love you.”

     Harry nodded with deep understanding, leaned in for one final goodbye kiss, and crossed into the massive crowd. He looked over his shoulder and yelled out for both of them. 

     “I promise to make my girls proud!”

          It looked like every other ship you had ever been on, minus the shiny new floors and number of installed elevators. It almost angered you how disappointed your own disappointment made you, like nothing ever made you feel truly elated, truly surprised, truly ecstatic. But as you ignored the looks of other passengers and the excessive whining from your own mother, you started to see the little details other passengers were sure going to miss. Like the delicate stitching in all servant uniforms, the woodwork on the massive clock leading into the dining area, and the use of electricity in even the thinnest corners of each room. 

     Even the servants knew better than to comment on your true royal status with Cal beside you, who was in fact failing to find even one flaw on the ship. You quite admired that actually - something you could fully agree on. 

     “This is so gorgeous,” Cal whispered beside you, your arm intertwined with his. You nodded in agreement, absentmindedly keeping the same pace as him. It took a few more minutes to finally make it to your living quarters - three separate rooms, each with their own living rooms and bathrooms. You thought it too much for yourself and wondered why your mother didn’t request adjoining rooms between you and her. 

     Without even entering your room first, your mother ventured into her own and started ordering her maids and servants around. You breathed in deeply, ready to see your living situation but were gently pulled back to let Cal walk through the door first. You stopped momentarily, puckering your lips in slight annoyance but followed behind him nonetheless. 

     “Even more beautiful than the hallway!” Cal laughed after his joyous exclamation, falling lazily on the first couch he saw. You couldn’t help but giggle at his childishness, watching him with a tiny grin as he reached over to play with the fresh flowers and their heavy vase. 

     “Perhaps the open sea breeze makes a person absolutely giddy because I have never seen you smile this much from inanimate objects,” you said, placing your handbag on the circular table and removing your gloves. 

     Cal rolled his eyes playfully and jumped up from his laying position to run to the brunch table full of sweets and bread, a first-class greeting for Titanic’s most distinguished guests. He popped the first sweet he saw into his mouth, closing his eyes and savoring the flavor. He groaned softly and waved you over, already picking up the second serving to give to you. You walked slowly, eyebrows furrowed due to his laid back nature, but decided to give in and lean your head forward, mouth open to be fed. He placed the sweet on your tongue and awaited your reaction as you chewed, grinning widely once your eyebrows raised in amazement. 

     “I am never wrong!” Cal laughed, picking up some bread instead, and offering you a piece. But before you could reach over and grab it, Cal threw it in his own mouth and ate it. You gasped playfully, mouth wide open and genuine laugh escaping from it. Cal smiled wide enough to crinkle his eyes, and he reached over to wrap you in a backwards hug, with your back pressed against his chest and his head in between your neck and shoulder. You howled with true happiness, your sounds becoming louder as he proceeded to step with you all over the room and tickling your side at the same time. With enough strength you pushed him away and ran to the outside deck with Cal hot on your trail. He ran after you, dodging the servants with luggage in their arms and their questions of where to put them, following you out on deck and gripping your wrist in time to twirl you around beautifully. This time you ended up face-to-face, gripping onto each other and chests still racking with laughs. 

     The crinkles on both sides of his eyes remained, and you felt your heart stir for him. He was always so rigid but in this moment he was carefree and young, absent from duties and absent from the raunchy world he was so accustomed to. Here you saw a side of him that you could definitely get used to. But that’s just what it was - a side, not all of him. Before you could assume more of the negatives of this situation, Cal leaned down and captured his lips with yours. His lips were smooth and experienced, moving slowly against your timid ones. And just how quickly the kiss came, it disappeared. The minor moment of intimacy was too little for your liking, but it still counted as the first time you weren’t disgusted by Cal’s attitude or personality. It confused you how swiftly your mind changed and concocted the perfect fantasy of Cal and your upcoming marriage. Like a spell’s flame ignited and burned your whole internal wall down. 

     Before either of you could comment, you were interrupted by a servant who began rapidly excusing himself. He exited the deck and left you there, still in Cal’s arms. You wanted to speak but Cal simply smiled, kissed your forehead, and let you go. 

     “We must finish unpacking and decorating if we want to be front row during the Captain’s welcome speech.”

     And with that, Cal stepped back into your living room and began helping the servants put up the paintings he had dismissed you on earlier. You stood there perplexed and could only muster up enough energy to lean over the railing and watch the waves hit the side of the ship and the docks you still hadn’t departed. 

     Apologies sprung from Harry’s mouth as quickly as he ran, pillowcase full of clothes over one shoulder and his father’s briefcase with all the family’s important documents and the freshly printed photographs in the other. He bumped into dozens of shoulders but even as he yelled his apologies, he didn’t look back. He was finally leaving for the promised land of opportunity, a place where he and his family could establish themselves and their business. New flavors introduced to the Americans would for sure boost business, and Harry was so excited to be the first of his family to step foot outside of London. Just being at the docks was the farthest his family had traveled. 

     The ship was vast in length, somehow seeming larger as Harry ran toward the third-class boarding area. He could see the crew was beginning to clean up, unhitching the ropes from the dock and removing the boarding stairs. His feet were already burning, but he sprinted as fast as he could, yelling at them to wait for his arrival. People stared at him, throwing themselves out of the way as he crashed into shoulders and knocked bags off horses. The background check and health inspection lasted longer than he had expected, all of the poking and prodding seeming more purposeful than necessary.  

     One particular horse came close to knocking Harry off his feet, and his belongings scattered over the dock floor. Harry cursed under his breath and quickly gathered his bags back into his arms, looking up every so often to check if the ship had departed without him. 

     “I got this for you, man.”

     Harry searched the floor for his important briefcase and but instead saw it held out for him to take. Harry thanked the man for his help, and before he could say anything else, the man spoke up cheerfully. 

     “Come on, we got a ship to catch!”

     Harry beamed at his new acquaintance and sped down the docks beside him. With two of them side by side, almost everyone jumped out of their way as if it was instinct. They continued to laugh at each other with each short tumble the other took, enjoying the quick pace at which they were traveling. 

      They both stumbled onto the attached railing that was being pulled away from the main entrance of the ship. The officers asked for their tickets almost immediately and Harry rolled his eyes. 

     “We’re passengers, here.”

      Both Harry and his running mate handed over their tickets for quick inspection. 

      “Have you been through all inspections?”

      The man behind him held up his bags in complete annoyance, “Why do you think we’re late?”

      The officers just nodded, letting both of them through the door. Together they hopped onto the ship and dashed down every corridor, following the signs for third-class passengers. 

   “I swear I didn’t think we’d make it!” Harry shouted, still muttering tiny apologies to those he shoved as he passed. 

     “Luck seems to be following me around lately,” the man laughed, following Harry down the flight of stairs. 

     “What room are you staying in?”

     “B60.”

     “You’re joking.”

     The two stopped to compare tickets, scoffing in astonishment. 

     “Hello, roommate!” the man smiled. “Name’s Drake.”

     Harry put one of his bags down on the floor and pushed his briefcase under his left armpit to extend his right arm out for a handshake. “Harry.”

     “You stopping in Ireland or New York?”

     “Going all the way to New York City,” Harry beamed, and he picked up his bag again and started for their shared room. 

     “Awesome, same. I’m actually from Montana but since New York will be the only stop in the states, I figured I would just hitchhike my way home.”

     “I thought I heard an American accent,” Harry chuckled. He rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the room number they were assigned. He opened the door and peeked his head through to make sure everything was decent for the door to be held wide open. Once the coast was clear, Harry opened the door widely and threw his heavy luggage onto the bottom bunk in the far corner. 

     “Oh, awesome. I get top bunk,” Drake cheered, also hauling his bags onto the bed. Harry ducked into his bunk as Drake jumped up onto his, the two settling in quite easily compared to the unorganized chaos outside their room. 

     The small room was designed to offer the least comfort possible, but it was still better than most of the rundown apartments in the middle of London. The walls were white, with the ship's pipes extending across the ceiling and down the side of the adjoining walls. Two brown blankets were folded on top of each bunk, and a pillow with minimal fluff was tightly tucked underneath the bedspread. The room offered one sink and three bars of wrapped soap, toilet paper, and an unlit lantern that would be useful for late night trips to the washrooms. Even with such limited offerings, it was way more than Harry expected. 

     “How many other people are joining us in our room?” Harry asked while grabbing the two blankets from the end of his bed for a quick nap. 

     “Two other men, I believe. Pretty sure that’s what the two empty beds across the room are for.”

     “Oh. Oops.”

     Harry laughed at himself and snuggled deeper into his blankets, letting out a deep and relaxed sigh. 

     Drake leaned over the side of his bed to look down at Harry, a confused grin on his face. “You’re seriously going to take a nap and not explore the ship?”

      Harry winked one eye open and turned his head slightly upward. “After this nap.”

     Drake pondered for a moment, but he silently agreed, and became victim himself to the comfort of cotton blankets and a hard mattress. 

      The Captain spoke so eloquently, so loud and coherent, that his welcome was felt by everyone in the crowded first-class lounge area. He was met with praises and generous words as he greeted the crowd and his crew, tipping his head slightly as if to nod and remain mostly nonverbal. 

     Cal, of course, wanted to put his name into the Captain’s hat, so he pulled you along absentmindedly until you were in front of the Captain himself. As Cal droned on, you noticed how the Captain was practically trained for this, the tipping of his head and low grunts of amused agreement speaking for themselves. He was an elder man, around his mid-sixties it seemed, with pearl white hair neatly combed over toward the left side of his head, and a thick beard that matched his serious look. 

     As Cal began mentioning the architecture of the ship and asking the Captain’s crew just how fast the ship was able to go, the Captain turned toward you and held his hand out. He gave you a warm smile, introduced himself and proceeded to place a delicate peck on your gloved hand. You smiled back but had to contain the chuckle scratching its way up your throat as you caught a glimpse of Cal’s look of bewilderment. 

     “You must be the beautiful child of the famed American-Indian Lieutenant. The King of all Aztec riches and oil,” the Captain praised. 

     You nodded, “His one and only child, yes.”

     The Captain’s smile grew impossibly bigger. 

     You continued, “My father’s legacy branches farther than the oil industry. I am proud to say he was funding countless important causes.”

      The Captain beamed, “I have heard! Civil rights, the fight for free land, uh… what am I missing?”

      “Equal rights for women.”

     The Captain chuckled, “He was quite determined, I may say. Ridiculous, but determined.”

     Before you could say anything else, Cal sweeped in to take the same hand the Captain had kissed earlier. 

     “Yes, my fiance’s bloodline sure loved to mix the order of things. When we settle in America we’re mainly going to focus on the railroad and mining industry.”

      You gave a scarce grimace. 

     “Railroading! Invest where the money is, Sir! Art, automobiles, electricity, and dare I say civil rights!” the Captain laughed, patting Cal on the shoulder and leaving to greet the other passengers. 

     Cal stood still for a second and although you wanted to comment, you knew better. Instead, Cal seemed to knowingly pinch your hand a little too hard to the point you winced. But he cleared his throat, let you go,  and simply walked the other way. 

     Their short nap made them miss the ship’s departure, but the second they awoke, Drake and Harry dashed through third-class lounging to the bow of the ship. The nice cool breeze pinched Harry’s cheeks as he ran, the faint feeling of ocean droplets flying through the air.

      They reached the very tip of the front, cautiously looking over to somehow calculate the exact speed at which they were going. Dolphins raced each other beside the ship, acknowledging they had an entertained audience on board. 

     “You don’t think the ship’s gonna hit them, right?”

     Harry let out a loud and uncontrolled laugh, “Well, now I do!”

    Drake climbed onto the railing, carefully balancing himself with one hand gripping the thick iron strings. He stretched out his free arm, staring off over the horizon and enjoying the feeling of a rushed breeze slapping his chest. 

     “I swear I can see the Statue of Liberty already!” Drake yelled. 

     Harry grinned and climbed onto the railing as well, mimicking Drake’s position as to not accidentally fall overboard. 

     “Oh, this is madness!” Harry screamed, his hair flying all over the place. But he seriously could not contain the giant smile that widened with each new jump of a dolphin, Drake’s howls of joy, and with the ever changing color of the bright blue horizon. 

     It seemed to all be coming together - the colors, the voices, the American dream. Harry could feel the excitement in the pit of his stomach, and he swore it could not grow any larger for risk of actually exploding. But similar to his pondering back home in his chilly room, that luck that Harry had following him around was definitely to blame for such an adventure. 

     Harry raised a clenched fist in the air and joined Drake in all the howling. 

     “I’m the king of the world!”

          Dinner went as expected. You were quiet and polite, only speaking when spoken to, and the same tunes of violin screeched beside your ears. It made you miss more gentle rhythms, more upbeat sounds, and a much more excited band. European music was beautiful, but it seemed rich individuals only enjoyed the same three songs. 

     You drew a warm bath in your private bathroom after saying goodnight to both your mother and Cal. You weren’t expecting any further intrusions, and you swore that if any knock sounded from outside while you were in the bath, you would kill them. You had reached the end of your tolerance for today. And no matter how much you tried to prevent it with cold water on your face, vanilla candles, and your own private batch of special herbs, the first stages of a long migraine sneaked their way through. 

     You lay in the warm water thankfully undisturbed, big toe playing with the tub handle and a glass of champagne in your hand. It was all quiet now, the only sounds being your breaths and the tiny bubbles in your bath popping almost silently. Without another thought, you placed your champagne down on the side table and sucked in a deep breath, plunging your head underneath the water. Your thick hair swam in every direction, tickling your shoulders. You kept your eyes tightly shut and counted. 

     Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. 

     Once your lungs felt too constricted, you came back up and rubbed at your eyes. You cleared your nostrils and rubbed at your lips, the outside reality still unchanged. No noise, no new presence - just calmness. 

      And the water was becoming cold. 

-- 

Please tell me what you think and if I should continue! Please also let me know if you would like to be tagged in any updates. Reblogs would certainly help this story reach even more people. Thank you. - xxMoni

[letusmeetagain]

First i wanna say i really like all your analysis and theories because you put so much effort into them and im really gratful we have someone like you who like i said again have wonderful theories that make so much sense so please i have a question for you regarding a certain well...very dragged topic so if you wouldnt like to awswer i will totally understand it just i wanted to hear YOUR opinion because i really do appreciate your analysis of snk anyway my question is regarding erehisu...not i dislike it but its just im so tired can isayama make em or eh canon already so this clownery end...BUT i really do believe eremika will be the endgame because of all the proof that we have in the manga but people tend to make it as if its a crack ship ugh...what do you think hisu's final role will be? What do you think eren awswered her? Though i dont believe hisu's question meant any romantic undertones what do you make out of her question to eren?

Hi anon!!

Thank you for your kind words T.T

Well... the question focuses on my opinion on which ship has more chances to become canon, right?

I’ve spent some time thinking about my answer to this question, how I could go direct to the point while giving enough arguments to defend my opinion. Prepare yourself because I couldn’t and this will be very long. Sorry...

1. Eren’s characterization + romance

First of all, there is a very important point about Eren that shipers (even me sometimes) forget. A friend that loves and understand Eren the most pointed this many times when I was starting to forget about it... I dare to say that nobody surpasses her understanding of his characterization.

Eren isn’t a romantic person. We all have to keep in mind that his priorities aren’t the priorities a normal person would have. He is like Rick from Casablanca. There’s the duty and then dreams and then, maybe, romantic love (If we take for granted that he knows what it is). Erwin loved Marie but he had a priority. (There’s me finding more similarities between Erwin and Eren). Eren’s current development is more about his mission than a romantic one. Although he plays with romance, he does it while being blatantly blind about it.

Eren got caught in the middle of his normal development from a child that gets annoyed by romance and has some kind of allergy against cheesy moments (for ex. in ch. 3 with Franz and Hannah) to a teenager that blooms to feel romantic love as something important and unavoidable. It’s normal for kids. But Eren hasn’t a normal life. There was always something more important than learning how to love, be loved and express it openly. It’s not that he isn’t able to love, more likely the opposite. He knows how to love and he has his own ways to do it... but the way the world is restricted his possibilities to live a different life. Even in the way EMA never got to communicate properly most of the times. Communication runs sometimes as a question, a statement and no back question (for ex. ch. 3). Eren asked about Mikasa’s reasons to follow him, about Armin’s reasons, where he threw that line about his death being meaningless. Nobody said anything, neither Mikasa nor Eren reacted stating the opposite. They usually don’t have the time nor oportunity to talk or even think about essential topics as feelings of love or labeling their feelings.

Given Eren’s lack of experience and maturity that we could see until Marley arc. Is it even possible that he developed a carnal relationship with Historia before going to Marley? No. No, because it would contradict somehow his characterization. Eren is depicted exactly as someone that took this decision because he lost every single deep bond that would have stopped him. This lack of understanding brought him to this point. The lack of value he places on life and a comfortable life with friends and family.

2. The baby

The whole baby plot point is from my perspective just about the curse and a new generation (maybe) free from being SoY but just normal human beings.

Historia choosing this way was also the safest way to oppose her destiny... strategically speaking. She could trick everyone without being called openly a traitor. So I’m agree with you. Her question wasn’t romantic.

3. The father and his meaning

The father is, as I pointed out once in my Twitter acc., the farmer. My reasons are that there is a meaning behind his existence. He was a boy that dared Historia to break the rules and stop being submissive. He is aligned with Historia’s current role as someone who stopped being the good girl that follows stupid and detrimental rules in disregard of her own life. He is also a man that decided to redeem himself by helping her with the orphanage without trying to get her attention at all. Being a normal person who enjoys a normal life and also redemption. I’m not saying necessarily that it’s about love, but he isn’t just a nobody. He holds a deep, positive meaning for the story. Isayama pairs usually a sinner and an “innocent”: Annie and Armin, Eren and Mikasa, Erwin and Levi, Ymir and Krista, Historia and the Farmer. Eren and Historia are the current sinners on the matter that both chose the rumbling... let’s say.

Why this kind of pairing? Because one has to contribute to the improvement of the other. Two sinners (with the same crime and perspective) can’t help each other. It’s opposition what will bring them to overcome their weaknesses.

4. Development of the couples

That being said, Eren and Mikasa as pair are in the focus. Isayama went through 10 years of development of most of the pairs to build up a support for EreMika. He build parallels with YumiHisu and Falbi and gave us hints to understand EM better. The vow he made to her was probably one of those moments when he started to be romantic without noticing.

5. Eren and Historia: their moments

EH interactions are, conversely, of other nature. Both feel related about the point of carrying a big burden. While Eren has to save humanity fighting, Historia has the role of a founder who has to assure humanity’s survival by having children and keeping the royal family alive. Both want to be free from that burden and end up being “partners in crime” by betraying everyone. I’m missing the romantic interactions to be very honest. It’s because Eren is so self-focused that he anchors here when someone who is alone and having the same problems and feelings appears. But... where did the fandom start to see something between them?

Two moments. The moment when he said “she is admirable” and the moment when he insisted to spare her life. That obsession that is so tricky to even be explained.

The first one made a difference between how Eren acknowledges Historia’s attributes and disregards Mikasa’s. The fandom uses this to point out that Eren likes Historia more. Well, no. His relationship towards Mikasa was characterized by jealousy. He won’t admit anything.

Regarding his “obsession” to save her... this started when he knew the existence of Eren Krüger, his thoughts and the whole story about Dina. It wasn’t before that. We must also admit that Historia’s safety was related to more characters than just Eren. Since the very beginning, her safety was conveniently displayed by Frieda, Ymir and Reiner, what makes me believe that her destiny was to give birth to this baby (aka. plot armor). Her role is to avoid becoming a titan by her own choice, that’s her arc. With Krüger we also knew the importance of a royal: they can give birth to more convenient instruments for war. Knowing that he was devoted to the mission, I believe that Eren is being influenced by him (I want to highlight the word “influenced” as something different to manipulated). So this is all related to the mission and the final outcome about Ymir, the curse, the power and the baby. Eren partly wants to grant her the chance to choose, but he also pushes her to do so based on part of her desires because of the mission as he did with Grisha.

Add here the fact that Historia was prepared to sacrifice his life at the cave if it was needed. That shows her priorities.

A lot of EH shippers claim that she saved him. Regarding her role as savior, I’m more objective and skeptical. She spared his life, but emotionally speaking, she didn’t really save him. The proof is that he was still low, thinking that he was a nobody. Carla’s words were the message with enough impact to relieve him and make him open himself to Armin and Mikasa and tell them about his sorrows. This shows the difference on the impact on him when it comes to Historia and when it comes to Carla... this happens again in ch. 131. He thinks about his mother instead of Historia who was the one reproving his plan. To me, Historia is his friend and inspired him to fight just for his sake against the system and rebel those who are over him and oppressing him. But his soft side is related to Carla, Armin and Mikasa: his family and those, who appreciate his life over his fate and urge of freedom and to be acknowledged.

Bonus: when Eren told Historia that she saved him was more like “You chose this path once and I’m sorry. I’ll be starting the rumbling and you contributed”. Historia’s face to that looks like this: “Oh no...I fucked up”. It doesn’t look like “Oh no... I don’t regret saving you because I love you and I can’t live without you”. On the contrary, that’s when she realizes that she was part of this since the beginning and that by saving him, she chose to let the rumbling happen once in the past. Then she goes along with the plan for her own reasons and because she hasn’t better options to choose either.

Summary:

Eren didn’t develop as a romantic person yet nor prioritized romantic love over his mission. It goes against a previous explicit development of EH before the trip to Marley. The farmer has a positive meaning as the father. EM is more developed and shows romantic undertones and common tropes. EH hasn’t romantic undertones and it’s more related to the mission to save the eldians.

So... that was it. Sorry again for the length and thank you for the ask!

[rootbeergoddess]

Don’t Mess with Oli

@omg-whydidimakethisaccount asked for another fan fic and this time, it featured her really cute OC Oli defending Mammon from some shitty witches.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Mammon stared at the necklace inside the case before it closed it and sighed. He felt a bit pathetic. All he had to do was give Oliva the necklace and explain his feelings. That wasn’t too hard. If it was such a simple task, Mammon didn’t understand why he felt like it was moving a mountain. He sighed again, looking at the closed box. He was the Great Mammon; how come he couldn’t do this?

Mammon wanted to ask his brothers for help, but he didn’t want to endure their ridicule. The only person who would offer up useful advice was most likely Asmo, but that wasn’t saying much. Asmo had been in so many relationships, he probably had lost track of them all. The others were more interested in their own lives, so asking them would be no use. He had considered asking Simeon, but he didn’t even know if angels dated. He didn’t even consider Diavolo or Barbatos.

He felt like he was on his own for now. He didn’t know how he was going to tell Oliva that he liked her.

Oliva was pretty cool for a human. In fact, she was the coolest human Mammon had ever met. When she had come to the Devildom, Mammon never thought she’d end up being so cool. He thought she’d be this mousy, scared little girl who was afraid of her shadow. Instead, Oli was the most confident person he had ever met. Yes, she had even more confidence than Asmo. She wore her huge, black witch hat with pride and ignored any comments about it.

Oli also had a good head on her shoulders. While she joined in on the shenanigans brothers got themselves into, she was able to figure out solutions and get them out of trouble. Lucifer liked that there was another level head beside him, but Oli wasn’t all serious like he was. Her wit was sharp, she had a great sense of humor, and she had a smart mouth. The best thing about her was that she enjoyed spending time with Mammon.

Being considered the scummy secondborn got real boring fast. Yeah, Mammon didn’t have the best reputation, but it was nice to be with someone who wasn’t going to tear him down constantly. Oli teased him, but it was all in good fun. He never felt like she was being cruel or actually hated him. In fact, she was one of the few people Mammon trusted. He told her secrets, and Oli never spilled any of them. Mammon couldn’t remember the last time he had someone he could trust so well.

“I can do this, “Mammon told himself. “I know I can. I just need to find Oli, and everything will be fine.”

Mammon pocketed the necklace and started to head back to the House of Lamentation. He whistled to himself, trying to think of the perfect words to say to Oli when he saw her. Maybe he should have asked Asmo for some advice.

“Did you see her? Belladonna Blackwood is here at RAD!” A nearby demon said.

The name sent shivers up Mammon’s spine and caused him to stop walking. Belladonna Blackwood was a woman he didn’t want to see today. She and her witchy companions were not his favorite people.  The last thing he wanted to do was run into her today. What were they doing at RAD anyway? How did they get on campus?

“I saw Eglantine and Clotilda with her too,” One of the other demons whispered. “They looked angry.”

“I saw them talking to Oli. They seemed annoyed with her.”

Mammon felt his blood go cold. God no. Please, anything but this. He stopped and turned to the group of demons who had been talking.

“Where? Where did you see them?” He demanded.

“I---um----” The demon stammered.

“Spit it out! Where did you see them go?” Mammon said, getting in the lesser demon’s face.

“I saw them head to the pool,” The demon finally managed to speak.

Mammon tossed the stranger aside and started running towards the pool. He had no idea why the three witches were here, and he didn’t know why Oli was spending time with them. But he did know that those three women were dangerous, and if anything happened to Oli, he didn’t know what he’d do. Oli had learned many things from being a witch. Learning magic had helped her become less reckless, and in a way, she felt like it had helped her mature. She also realized that many witches didn’t outgrow that highschool clique nature. Hell, Belladona could have been Regina George. Eglantine and Clotilda did everything she said, just like George’s cronies in the movie.

Oli still couldn’t believe Belladonna had agreed to meet her. She had jumped through so many hoops to get her phone number. Then, Oli had to go through her secretary. What kind of witch was so busy she needed a secretary? Either way, Oli was happy she had finally gotten the famous Belladonna in front of her. She was hoping that this meeting would go well.

“What do you want, Oliva?” Belladonna asked arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“It’s Oli,” Oliva smiled. “First, can I conjure anything up for you ladies? A snack? Maybe a drink.”

“Cut to chase deary, we don’t have all day,” Belladonna sighed. “We’re very important witches, you know.”

Who the hell calls people deary in this day and age? No, Oli focus on what is important.

“Right, right, right,” Oliva’s smile cracked slightly. “Down to business. First, a gift.”

Oli reached into her pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. She handed it to Belladonna, who eyed it suspiciously. Eglantine and Clotilda joined her as she opened it up. Inside was a large amount of Grimm. The three witches stared at the money before Belladonna looked back at Oli. Oli tried to keep her smile, wanting to appear friendly.

“What is this?” Belladonna asked.

“Grimm. Fifty thousand grimm, all counted for,” Oli replied. “I know Mammon owed you, so I decided to pay off his debt.”

“Seriously?” It was Eglantine’s turn to be suspicious of Oli. “How did you manage to earn all this?”

“A professional never reveals her secrets,” Oli shrugged. “So I want you to take this money and stop hounding Mammon to pay you back.”

Belladonna put the money into her purse.

“Accepted,” Belladonna said. “Is there something else?”

“Yes, there is, actually,” Oli said. “I would like you ladies to stop harassing Mammon, completely. With his debit paid, there is no reason for the three of you to pester him.”

There was a pause before Belladonna started laughing. Eglantine and Clotilda followed suit, their laughs haughty. Oli twitched, her hands forming fists.

“Why should we?” Clotilda asked. “Mammon was our plaything first. You wait your turn.”

“Excuse me?” Oli asked, twitching again.

“If you want a toy, find someone else,” Eglantine said. “You can torture Levi if you’d like.”

“Are you kidding me?” Oli shouted. “Who the hell do you think bimbos think you are?”

Oli’s brown eyes turned dark pink. The three witches stopped laughing as Oli started to float. Belladonna looked amused while her cliche looked a bit worried. Oli’s long, pink braids became darker as electrically sparked from her fingers. Unimpressed, Belladonna rolled her eyes and raised her hands. She muttered a spell under her breath, and fire sprouted from her fingertips. Oli brought her hands up, catching the fireball. Belladonna’s smile disappeared.

“How did you----”

Oli pushed the fireball towards the three women. They screamed and jumped out of the way. Using her electricity, Oli created three large snakes that wrapped around Belladonna and her crew. Their sizzling skin burned the witches, making them scream out in pain.

“I came here, being polite and offering you a gift,” Oli glared at the three of them. “Then, I made a request. A simple one. I made the request very politely too. And you laugh in my face?”

Eglantine whimpered as the snake squeezed her tighter, the electricity burning her skin.

“Not only do you laugh in my face,” Oli continued. “But you proceed, you talk about Mammon like he’s an object, a toy! Who in the hell does that?”

The three snakes barred their fangs as they hissed. Clotilda cried out, trying to get free. Oli eyed her and had the snake released her. Clotilda collapsed to the ground and scrambled to get up. The snake that had held her morphed into a large scorpion and plopped down in front of her.  She screamed as it snapped its claws at her.

“And you know what? I felt bad for you, Clotilda,” Oli continued. “You and Eglantine just do whatever Belladonna says, I used to think you two were just brainwashed, but I see you’re just as bad as her. You suggested I use Levi. Are you kidding me?”

“Please, I hate scorpions!” Clotilda got on her knees.

“That’s right. You hate scorpions,” Oli looked at Eglantine. “And Eglantine hates----”

Eglantine started to squirm, but it was no use. Oli snapped her fingers, and the snake let her go. Eglantine watched as wings sprouted out of the snake’s back and saw its tail became sharp. She screamed when she realized the snake was turning into a massive, angry wasp. Once it was done changing, it flew towards her.

“No, no, no, no! Not a wasp, anything but a wasp!” She babbled.

“Wasps for Eglantine and scorpions for Clotilda,” Oli glared at Belladonna. “Now, that leaves you.”

Oli cracked her knuckles before she started muttering an incantation. The snake began to change, becoming blocky and thick. Belladonna screamed as the snake became a coffin, locking her inside. Oli grinned as Belladonna started hitting on the inside of the box, her screams muffled. But Belladonna was the ringleader. Playing on her claustrophobia wasn’t enough. Oli shot electricity out of her fingers, and six large bolts of lightning appeared before her. They morphed into large, black rats that crawled to the coffin and squirmed their way into the coffin.

“Please, you’ve done enough,” Clotilda was holding onto Eglantine.

“We won’t come back, we promise,” Eglantine whimpered.

“You two can leave,” Oli didn’t look at them. “I’m not done with your queen bitch.”

The two witches didn’t have to be told twice. They ran away, leaving Belladonna to be tortured. They passed Mammon on their way but didn’t stop to say anything. Mammon stared at them, shocked; he had never seen the two of them look so scared before. Wait, where was Belladonna? Mammon turned the corner and saw Oli, floating in the air, magic gathering around her. He spotted the coffin and instantly realized where Belladonna was.

“Oli!” He ran towards her. “Oli, what are you doing?”

Mammon shook her gently, and Oli’s eyes went back to brown. The coffin she had created burst, and the rats dispersed. Belladonna sat on the ground, rocking back and forth. Mammon stared at the once-powerful, classy witch. This was a woman he had been terrified of, and she looked so pathetic now.  Oli winced as she held her head.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mammon made Oli look at him.

“I think so,” Oli replied. “But I may have overdone it on the magic. Ow.”

“Jeez, are you stupid or what?” Mammon said. “What kind of idiot goes against three witches? Do you have any idea how worried I was? What if I hadn’t got here in time?”

“What? I can handle myself!” Oli said. “What makes you think---”

“That doesn’t matter. What if I didn’t get a chance to say---” Mammon faltered. “I---damnit, I’m bad at this. I heard what was going on, and I felt like my blood went cold. If those witches had done anything to you, I never would forgive myself. They can hurt me, but they better not lay a single finger on you. Anyone who hurts you has to answer to me.”

Oli stared at Mammon, her cheeks feeling warm.

“Mammon?”

Mammon couldn’t take this anymore. He grabbed Oli and kissed her. Oli froze, but she soon closed her eyes and kissed him back. Belladonna crawled away, not wanting to interrupt the two and afraid of what else Oli would do to her. Mammon pulled back and pressed his forehead against Oli’s.

“Don’t do that again,” Mammon begged. “Why would you do that?”

“I wanted them to leave you alone,” Oli said, caressing his cheek. “I paid off your debt too.”

“What? You didn’t need to do that,” Mammon reached into his pocket and took out the box. “Now I feel like I should have gotten a nicer necklace. This doesn’t feel classy enough.”

“Necklace?” Oli looked at the box. “Let me see!”

Mammon was going to protest, but Oli grabbed the box and opened it. She gasped when she saw it; a glittering silver necklace with a pink jewel sat before her in velvet. Oli tackled Mammon and kissed him again, shocking the demon. They ended on the ground.

“Hey, careful!”

“I love it!” Oli said. “I’ve never owned something so gorgeous.”

“You don’t think it’s cheap? It was only 20,000 grimm.”

“You spent that much on me?”

“I would have spent more,” Mammon blushed a bit. “I mean, you deserve it. Do you really like it?”

“No, I love it,” Oli kissed him again. “There is a difference. This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned. No one has ever gotten me such a gorgeous necklace. I want to wear it now. Help me put it on.”

Oli got up and pulled Mammon to his feet. Mammon clipped the necklace on, and Oli turned to face him, a proud smile on her face.

“How do I look?” She asked, posing.

“Perfect,” Mammon answered, pulling Oli close. “But seriously, please don’t mess with those witches again.”

“I don’t think they’ll come back,” Oli wrapped her arms around his neck. “I made it clear that they’re not welcome back here. Not now, not ever.”

“You’re the coolest woman in the world, do you know that?” Mammon smiled at her. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“Why not?” Oli asked. “Mammon, I don’t like it when people use others. I know you owned Belladonna money, but there was no reason for her to treat you the way she did. I protect my own.” “And I’ll protect you,” Mammon said. “I love you. I know I’m scum, and I’m bad at money, but I can’t change how I feel about you. I’ll do my best to be worthy of you.”

“You’re already worthy of me,” Oli smiled at him. “Come on, I’m a bit tired after using all that power, and I could use something to eat.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll get for you,” Mammon scooped Oli up into his arms.

“I can walk, you know,” Oli giggled. “Although I could get used to this. Now give me another kiss.”

Mammon obliged.

[queenofanime]

The Girl in White

(Haikyuu x reader)

Part 1

It is only at that moment, Kenma realizes he is holding a gold watch in his hand. At the back of the watch was a small phrase engraved:

To the angel with no wings

My love, my life,

Martha

It was clear that the watch was expensive but most of all it seemed like a valuable treasure. A treasure that wasn't his. He didn't take it on purpose, it just happened, probably when he bumped into the table out of panic. But Kenma had to admit it was a beautiful object. The watch must have had a great number of straps over the years, yet the machine itself was perfection in cogs, gold, and glass. Part of him wanted to return it, but the idea of going back to that hunted place and face whoever had that scary husky voice was a no-no. Without showing it to any of the other players, Kenma slid the watch into his pocket.

                                                          ****

Morning came and it was time for both teams to start packing. Unfortunately for Kenma, his conscience didn't seem to want him to rest. The watch was beginning to grow heavier with every passing minute and the guilt was beginning to take over the poor boy.    

"Oi Kenma! What's this?"

Kenma's yellow eyes widen in fear when he saw non-other than Kuroo holding the said treasure.

"Oh, that looks expensive!" Taketora yelled across the room causing more unwanted attention to the duo.

"It's nothing. Give it back!" spat Kenma. Annoyance lingering in his voice. However, Kuroo wasn't satisfied with the answer, and he knew exactly how to push his friend's buttons.

"Oh? Then please share with everyone who is Martha? 'Cause I'm daying to know... Is it a beautiful girl at school? A crush?"

As soon as those words left Kuroo's lips, Kenma went from annoyed to embarrassed. Not only because his so-called friend was hinting at the idea of romance, but because he didn't know how to get out of this mess. By now everyone was looking at him; 'what was he suppose to say?' On top of that, how was he going to explain the fact he didn't even know who Martha was, let alone know if she was an angel with no wings or not.

"Uhm... uh" No constructed words could form. Kenma's cat-like orbs roamed the room trying to find an exit. With no way out of the awkward situation, he finally gave up. Ashamed of what he was going to say next, he let his vision fall to the floor. "I-I kinda... s-tole it." Kuroo's eyes narrowed at the confession, but before he could say how extremely disappointed he was, Hinata intervened. "Does it belong to the owner of the house?"

Now that comment perked the interest of everyone, including the less interested.

"House? What house?" asked Kageyama, trying to hide his curiosity poorly.

At that moment, Hinata realized the horrible mistake he had committed. Nervously laughing, he tried to brush off the question of "The King". But Kageyama's blue eyes were piercing the poor ginger boy's soul. And it didn't help to have Daichi on father-mode either.

"Well... uh funny thing" studdered Hinata while fidgeting with his hands. "Yesterday we kind of took a shortcut and um got kind of lost and..." His brown eyes traced Kenma's figure, "and it was late and we just happen to find a-a house, so we k-kind of ent-entered it."

"You morons trespassed?" ask nonother than Tsukishima, who by now was quite attentive to the conversation.

With that, Kenma lost all hope that he could get away from the awkward situation and accepted his fate.

As expected, both boys got a punishment and were chastised by their respective captains. And of course, the only reasonable conclusion ended up being returning the stolen treasure.

                                                  ****

To say, both teams were spooked out by the setting, was an understatement. Everyone was freaking out. Hinata and Kenma pleaded to not go back there alone, and with good reason. Yet no one listened because, no one was buying that the place was creepy, in fact, some even told them they were being scary-cats, but now...

Now all the boys were staring at the abandoned playground, at the rusty swings that moved with the wind, creating an infernal screech. And there it was again, that feeling of being watched, observed every action, every move. For some reason, whenever Hinata watched the abandoned structure, he remembered the feeling of childhood. The laughter of children. But that was here nor there.

"H-how about w-we turn b-back" suggested Asahi. Although his physical features made him look like a grown-ass delinquent, Asahi Azumane was a baby at heart. And probably, the most scared. "I-I mean, Kenma c-could keep the w-watch, r-right?"

A strict stare from Daichi made him shut up, though. Yet, Karasuno's ace wasn't wrong, the place was unsettling and everyone seemed to be tense, hell, even Kuroo and himself looked doubtful, but as a captain, he had to move forward. If Hinata made it out in one piece, so could he.

After some encouraging words from Nishinoya, the boys decided to walk through the forest. The setting was quite different than the other night. The sun was up and one could see the peaceful clearings. The smell of wildlife was quite pungent, and the big, tall trees might as well be magical creatures like Titans and Giant Trolls. A small stream could be seen in the distance. Kenma wonder why he didn't hear the water before, maybe he was too tired and concentrated on the cat.

Finally, after one and a half-hour later, all males made it to another small gate. There were dirt roads leading to it as well, which indicated that there were other routes one could take. The gate had the same architectural structure as the first one and lead to a well-maintained garden. Hinata and Kenma recognized it immediately. At the back, the white antique house stood proudly. House was a little underrated since it was rather a massive white mansion, that had colossal glass windows, and no Japanese influence at all.  At the center of the garden, a fountain made of stone and moss stood. A mighty oak was near too, making the place look astonishing. However, all magical trance disappeared when they heard someone approaching.

A girl.

Dressed in a white silky summer dress. It had a touch of vintage, however, it was quite transparent, highlighting all of her curves. She couldn't have been older than 17, maybe younger. Her skin was smooth and shiny, the rays of sunshine reflected in her hair, while the soft spring breeze created movement all around her. Her eyes sparkled. She was barefoot as well. Now that, was an angel with no wings.

"Who are you?" Her voice didn't match at all with her sweet looks. It was a stern commandant voice, full of confidence. At this, all the boys flinched.

Moving slowly through the group, Kenma cowardly stood in front of her.

"I um I'm wan-wanted to um..." What was he supposed to say? 'I'm the one who stole your watch' Of course not. Kenma wasn't used to talking with girls, let alone one that was stunningly gorgeous.

"I'm, I'm Kenma K-Kozume and I uh-Yes the watch thief." The girl bluntly interrupted, which caused some snorts from Tsukishima and Tanaka.

Kenma could feel the heat spreading through his face out of embarrassment. This was clearly an unwanted situation.

"You know, watch-thief Kenma, your manners aren't great either. You should see the other person's eyes when talking to them." She continued. Although her words were harsh, she wasn't using a mockery-childish tone, no, she was just pointing out the truth without sugarcoating it. For some reason, Kenma always seems to have difficulty seeing other people's eyes and faces. He didn't really know how to interact with others, however, before he could react, a soft hand spread to his chin and lifted his gaze. The girl wasn't laughing or being mean, she was serious, observing, taking in every feature.

"Well?" She repeated. She acted very maturely for her age, something that didn't go unnoticed by the others, especially the third-year students.

He didn't know why, but instead of feeling petrified, Kenma felt a wave of confidence forming.

"I'm Kenma Kozume and I wanted to return the gold watch." His hand stretched towards the girl and handed her the object. "I'm sorry for taking it, it was an accident."

The girl observed the watch for a long time, examining it, she then, lifted her gaze towards the boy, giving it back.

"The watch belongs to Germán. You took it from him, you give it back to him."

"Germán?" The obviously wasn't a Japanese name, no it was Spanish and quite difficult to pronounce.

"My father." She answered.

"And who are you?" Asked a voice from behind. It was Kuroo, who until now, was just observing the situation unfold.

"His daughter." She responded. Unfazed by the harshness in his tone

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm well aware of what you meant." The same monotone voice responded.

Ignoring Kuroo's irk forehead mark, her gaze fell on Kenma once again. "My father is inside. You will personally return the watch to him."

Not waiting for anyone to speak, she headed inside the garden and made her way to the old mansion. Everyone else just kind of followed.

                                                    ****

The inside of the house was just as cozy as Hinata remembered it. The Siamese cat sat on a sofa, looking at the new strangers coming in with lazy eyes.

"Um, may I ask what's the name of the cat?" The girl turned around to spot the boy who had asked the question. He was of average height, green-ish hair color, and his skin was full of freckles.

Not paying too much attention, she replied. "That's Violet. There's also a brown one named Kafka, and we have a Great Dane named Sargent."  At her comment, Hinata got extremely excited. "Whoa! You have so many pets! Can I see the dog!?" The girl was taken aback by the boy's energy but quickly composed herself. "If he passes through here you can. I'm going to get my father, so don't touch anything." Giving one last look to all the males, she headed to a carved wooden door, "Oh, and don't steal anything."

Her comment left a bittersweet taste in Kenma's mouth.

"Well, this place is something." Admitted Kageyama, who was observing a carved decorated music box with a porcelain ballerina on top. No one disagreed. The place seemed to be taken out of a fairy tale. Every ornament seemed to tell a story. The decoration of the living room defied all time and space as if it had frozen in the Victorian European movement. For a second, every player forgot they were still in Japan.

Soon, the door opened, revealing the mysterious girl and her father, Germán.  

He was a tall, thin man. His hair was brown but also grey, showing age. Even though he had wrinkles in his forehead and eyes, he clearly was a handsome man in his time. His eyes were icy-blue but there was a warmth to it. On top of that, he was well dressed.

Both teams bowed, showing respect. However, he waved his hand, "That's not necessary, young ones." His voice was sweeter than the other night. It wasn't as rough, rather calm and soft, almost a whisper.

Kenma approached and told him the situation. Asking forgiveness, for the watch. Hinata too apologized for trespassing.

"Well, I'm glad you returned it. By the way, all of you seem tired, would you like a late breakfast?"

The unexpected question from the man causes a lot of eyes to widen. Even her daughter seemed surprised.

"Oh, we couldn't accept your kindness after everything that has happened" Explained Daichi, which everyone nodded in agreement, yet, as soon as those words left his mouth, a couple of stomachs growled in hunger, including his. This caused the young girl to laugh. It was the first time they heard her laugh, and it was music to the ears. Although, everyone got flustered by the bad timing.

The man just smiled kindly.

"Cricket, would you be so kind to put out plates and heat water for our guests?" She only nodded and headed to the kitchen while he made all the boys pass to the dining room.

                                                      ****

The table was long enough for everyone, which was kind of impressive. At the end of the room, hanging from the wall was a beautiful vivid painting of a woman. She resembled the girl but in adult form.

The table was full of fruit, and bread, and eggs, and coffee, and chocolate milk. The volleyball players ate like there was no tomorrow.

At first, no one dared to say a word, but with time, Hinata and Nishinoya lighten the mood. And soon, Germán was talking to all the boys like they were his own sons. Kenma noticed a pair of orbs looking directly at him. The girl was clearly deep in thought, journeying through some creative stream only she could sense. He also took in her features. She was very well built and good-looking yet, there was something captivating about her. A special quality that could put anyone in a trance.

Unfortunately, breakfast was cut short when the older man started coughing. Immediately the girl stood up and helped her father head to his room. It was clear he was sick, however, no one mentioned it. Sugawara and Morisuke offered to help but were shut down by the death glare of the young girl. Helping her father she left the room. When she returned, the dishes were picked up. Apologizing in a neutral tone, the girl offered everyone to head to the door.

The awkward silence returned once more, yet she paid no mind to it. By now, everyone was at the iron gate, ready to part.

"Why did you entered our house yesterday?" She finally spoke. Everyone turned their heads to Kenma, then to Hinata, then to the girl, then back to Kenma.

"I don't know," responded Nekoma's setter. "Maybe because of the mystery."

The girl smiled energetically for the first time.

"So, you like mysteries?"  

Kenma only nodded.

"You have something to do tomorrow?" her question was out of the blue, unpredictable. Before Kenma could respond, she continued. "Tomorrow, here, at 9;00 am."

And with that, she turned around and left running.

"Wait!" cried Hinata who wasn't even part of the conversation.

The girl stopped in her tracks and turned around.

"You haven't told us your name!"

"Y/n!"

[gellavonhamster]

for the ask meme: 001 for dark (even though i still haven’t watched it yet but i’m really excited to eventually) and/or 002 for beatrice/bertrand/lemony

001 for Dark:

Favorite character: Claudia - the cleverest player in the time travel game and the baddest bitch with an amazing character development

Least favorite character: Ulrich. Objectively speaking, he is hardly the worst person out there, but I just find him so annoying

5 favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Aleksander/Regina, Agnes/Doris, Hannah/Katharina, Jonas/Martha (I couldn’t care less about them for the first two seasons, but s3 changed my mind), annnd Bartosz/Silja

Character I find most attractive: AGNES

Character I would marry: do I absolutely have to marry into that horrible town? The 1950′s version of Egon seems like an okay option, I guess

Character I would be best friends with: Regina or Ines

A random thought: a fic I recently read opened my eyes to the fact that the snake biting its own tail - the symbol associated with the time travellers - could signify not only the ouroboros, in which the beginning is the end and the end is the beginning, but also (in its secondary meaning) the serpent, which seems quite appropriate for a story that has Adam, Eve, (the myth of) Paradise, and the (White) Devil, and wow... there are truly endless possibilities for analysis, what a mindblowing show (she said for the 100th time)      

An unpopular opinion: I... don’t feel as strongly about Noah/Elisabeth as everyone else seems to. That must be because we didn’t see much of them as an actual couple, it was mostly a grown man around a little girl (creepy) or a young adult around a girl who is still significantly younger than he (less creepy, but still a bit weird). They obviously loved each other a lot and deserved better, but I guess I just didn’t have enough time to get attached to them as a ship

My Canon OTP: Aleksander/Regina

My Non-canon OTP: I don’t really have one at this point, but the idea of  Hannah/Katharina is slowly growing on me... who needs cheating men, lol

Most Badass Character: Claudia (see the first point)

Most Epic Villain: I don’t think there are any clear-cut villains on this show, but if we’re talking those morally gray characters who cause the most problems, then probably Eve (sorry, Adam!)

Pairing I am not a fan of: the first ship I thought of is very spoilery, so I’ll just say instead that Ulrich/Hannah was an unhealthy trashfire of a relationship that made everything worse for everybody

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Silja (underdeveloped, needed more personality, I still love her though), Agnes and Doris (their subplot got neglected towards the end)

Favourite Friendship: weirdly enough, I don’t know? Everyone in this story just keeps screwing everyone over. But I enjoyed what little we saw of alt!Martha and alt!Bartosz together, and, if sibling dynamics count, Martha & Magnus.

Character I most identify with: I’ve definitely made this joke somewhere already, but Wöller because comic relief eye injury + I, too, never have a clue about what’s going on

Character I wish I could be: uhhh, no one? Maybe Claudia if I really have to come up with an answer (not pre-time travel Claudia, though).

002 for B/B/L:

When I started shipping them: god, I don’t remember. Some time after joining the ASOUE fandom and reading some fics and realizing that this is a possibility and I like this possibility a lot

My thoughts: I know I’ve said this before, but it makes canon less tragic (no love triangle) and MORE tragic (Lemony loses both people he loved) at the same time, and I think that’s beautiful. Also, each dynamic between each two characters within this OT3 is so interesting in its own way! There’s Lemony/Beatrice that must have grown from a passionate relationship of two dramatic and loving people who were probably too similar in their personality and not similar enough in their aspirations to what is basically the poet and the muse (probably because writing about a muse is not as painful as mourning a real woman). There’s Bertrand/Beatrice, which I see as a more mature and healthy, if less romantic, relationship of two people who share the same goals and the weight of the same crime on their shoulders and decide to change their lives together. And then there’s Bertrand/Lemony - two gifted men who got compared to each other (well, at least L sure got compared to B) even before they first met, and who, logically, must have been rivals, except that there is a lot of fondness in how Lemony writes about the man who married his ex-bride... inch resting..... what I’m saying is that it’s a facinating dynamic made up of three separate fascinating dynamics and they live in my head rent free  

What makes me happy about them: see above for fascinating dynamics + I like to imagine that whatever time they spent together was very happy for all three of them 

What makes me sad about them: oh, I don’t know, the fact that two of them die, and one is left alone and depressed? :))

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: I think I liked, at least more or less, all B/B/L fics I’ve read, so I have no answer

Things I look for in fanfic: at this point I just look for fanfic, period. Also smut bc I can’t believe the closest thing to smut w/ this ship was written by me, of all people

My wishlist: I don’t see how this point is different from the previous one? Anyway, gimme all the fanfiction and fanart and headcanons and everything

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:  Beatrice with R, Bertrand with Ernest (Vera sold me on this ship :D), Lemony with his Kind Editor

My happily ever after for them: B&B both survive the fire, start looking for their children, run into L, and then all three of them together manage to find Violet, Klaus, and Sunny

[monstrousaffections1]

Around Tele Mountain Chapter 1

She gnashed her teeth and shrieked in frustration, hands slipping into her jaws and prying her teeth open as they shoveled that disgusting yellow slop into her mouth. No! No! No! She gagged and coughed trying to do anything not to swallow the GuangGuang. Tinky just hissed and shoved his fingers past her lips, she struggled against Dipsy’s grip but the green one held tight. She started to sob in desperation as she was forced to suck on the nectar coated fingers.

Tinky stood at the end of the line with Laa-Laa and Po as the young ones awaited their daily work assignments.

Ebat was at the front of the line, he was a young black telle who would be a member of the council once he came of age, due to his intellect and charismatic charm. After him there was Tula, she was proactive and playful, farmer in training.

Stone and Feather were best friends, Stone had lost his eyes in an attack from the Wilder Ones. But he made up for it with his strength and sheer size, Feather was ambitious but a bit of a dreamer, she liked to collect strange objects such as shiny pebbles or bird feathers. They worked together best as scouts.

Which also Tinky’s occupation, being a capable young male who was near full maturity. His nest-mate Dipsy often tagged along just for something to do…. Wait a minute! Where was Dipsy? God if he had slept in again!

He groaned inwardly realizing that his friend was going to get them both a tardy again. Tinky would hit him for this later. Laa-Laa giggled and took hold of Tinky’s arm cuddling close as the cold dawn breeze made them all shiver.

“He’s very late.” She whispered.

Laa-Laa was by personality standards, most grown up. She often fussed over her friends, constantly making sure they were safe and clean. It was because of this trait she was given the role of babysitting the cubs. She had a strange beauty about her too, something that most of the girls didn’t have. Tinky thought it must have been something to do with her high cheek bones or unusual green eyes.

Po smirked and gave a small chuckle. She was fierce little thing, but hoped for more than she was capable of. Desperately she wanted to be part of the scouting but she was too little, being a runt, the elders thought it was better if she was under the practice of farming instead of something so dangerous.

“I could beat him out of bed for you?” She asked hopefully, wanting something fun to do. Tinky laughed at the thought but shook his head and gently boxed the little one’s ears.

“No, if he wants be stuck on compost duty then let him be late”.

One of the elders addressed the group of yearlings. Giving them their instructions.

They lived, played and worked in the fields. Made their houses out of mud, each home consisted of two rooms, one for eating and one for sleeping. The homes were more or less communal, friends often nesting together. Unless they found a partner, then they would build their own home, one where they could have cubs. When cubs became yearlings, they left their parents and nested with friends. The layout of the village was a circle, houses were built close together, in a way it was almost like a large maze. Filled with long alleyways, sharp turns and dead ends. If you unfamiliar with it you could easily get lost.

Beyond the village were the fields. One half of the year filled with grass so long you couldn’t even see over, filed with flowers and fruits which was what they ate. The other half of the year covered with snow, the grass dead and their food scarce. At the South of the fields, the grass ended and the forest began. The forest was a rather dangerous place, filled with beasts the size of a mud house! No one went into the forest, even the plants wanted to eat you.

In the middle of the fields was a large lake that flowed down from the mountains that came from the North, they were large numerous mountains, rocky at the base but the further up you got the colder it became. Eventually at the halfway point it was constantly snowing up there. For generations the elders told the cubs legends and stories of the mountains, making sure they knew never to go there for that was where the Wilder Ones lived. Their larger cousins were not like the Field Teles, they towered over them in height and were far stronger. The Wilders were not social like the Fields, preferring the stay alone rather than live in large colonies. If they did live in a group it would be a small group, most likely of three or four.

They told the cubs that if the Wilder Ones caught you, they’d cook you alive over fire and eat you whole. So it was safe to say that no one went into the mountains.

Tinky took arms with spear and shield not waiting for his lazy friend left for patrols of mountain boarders.

 Po sighed in disappointment. Sulking as she followed Tula into the fields, it wasn’t fare! She was a lot more capable than anyone else in the village! Why should she be stuck as a farmer just because of her size? Honestly Po could take a beastie. She could! She knew she could….

But nether-the-less she began to pack the basket with fruits and flowers. This was a chore that only needed doing once a week, there were enough farmers to collect enough for everyone. Once harvested it was sorted between all the houses where it would be stored up. For the cubs who had not yet grown their teeth the fruit would be ground up, mixed together with water and left in the sun for a few hours. After a while the mixture would become sticky and thick, the type of stuff that stuck to your fingers and was a pain to wash off, but easy for little ones to eat.

“Don’t look glum.” Po’s fur bristled as she glared at Tula, it wasn’t anyone else’s business what she was feeling.

“I’ll look however I want thanks.” She shot back folding her arms and looking away from the larger female.

“Listen, it’s not your fault your little, but you really do have to understand that at your size you simply can’t protect yourself or anyone else from danger. Your too small.”

Ouch. The words stung and made Po’s heart contract, so she complied with the other females and made herself useful. Fruits and Flowers don’t pick themselves after all.

Laa-Laa laughed warmly as the little cubs played with toys she had brought with her. It was most enjoyable to take care of children. She found their company to be refreshing compared to that of yearlings or adults. They were free, not having to worry about anything, they could be what ever they wanted. Not bound by one life or full of the stresses of keeping up with the life inside the maze village.

The cubs could run as far as they wanted, could lose themselves in their games forget all the troubles of what was really happening in the real word. Laa-laa would sometimes find herself envying them, wishing nothing more than to let herself fade away into her own world the same way they could. Just like she use to….. but that was before, it was unwise to let yourself live in dreams or else you’d be brought back by the harshness of a reality that turns on those who let themselves wonder.

Oh NO!! Dipsy raced through the village. He had slept in again! He didn’t even have time to eat. Late, late, late. His mind filled with possible excuses most of them too far-fetched to be believed. But by the sun he had to give them something other than over sleeping.

This was not good! Why hadn’t Laa-laa woken him? Shooting into the auditorium he snatched up a spear and shield. Quick as his feet could carry him he-

“Dipsy.” Oh come on. He skidded to a stop, hackles raised and flinched at being caught. Sighing he turned around to face the apprentice who was currently crafting a map.

“Yesss… Ebat.” Dipsy struggled with the words, he was in trouble. The black tele didn’t even look at him but rather smirked for a second before letting his expression fall back to one of concentration.

“You were late, did you sleep in again? Of course, you did”

Dipsy rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah I’m late ok, now if you excuse me I really gotta go!” He moved for the door.

“You won’t be needing those” Ebat said blatantly, gesturing to the spear absentmindedly.

“You’re assigned for the graves.”

“Oh what!?”

“Yes, Yes. Exciting, I am so happy for you but run along now you are disturbing my work”

Dipsy groaned and dropped his weapon leaving it for Ebat to pick up as he trudged grumpily to the edge of the village.

  She climbed down the rocks with haste, constantly looking over her shoulder. Ears twitched and she crouched down, frozen. Nothing. She continued on her journey, her heart was still racing fast in her chest. Adrenaline fueling her veins. Her fur stood on end, and her pupils closed up. Taking a jump, she landed on a bolder. Tensing she whipped around and stared back the way she came.

A low wailing came from the wind, long and mournful as if crying out the pain she could not voice. Slipping down the boulder she quickly jogged downhill, careful not trip or fall. She was careful never to let body touch the rock unless it captures her scent. The ground was becoming less rocky and more like soil. Her breathing grew ragged, this was not familiar. Who knew what lived here.

She crouched down again and this time she began to move on all fours. She slipped further and further into uncharted territory.

 Po hoisted the basket up onto her shoulders and joined the line as they walked back to the village single file. The baskets packed full and some even overflowing. It had been a successful harvest; the fields were rich with flavor. She strained to see above the grass, it had gotten rather tall lately. The girls chatted and gossiped about things that Po would never understand. Who was improving at cooking, who they are nesting with, how annoying it was to have to pick up after the boys. Who they wanted for a partner.

The same old conversations that almost occurred every day, with the occasional refreshment of how big their cubs were getting. Po rolled her eyes, looking to the mountains. She stopped. Her ears twitched and stood on end.

“Quit!” She hissed to the other girls. Their needless chatter silenced and then they heard it too. The sound of something running towards them through the tall grass. Po pushed to the front of the line and unsheathed her claws, fur puffing up. Screaming a battle cry she ran straight into the path of whatever it was meeting it head on.

Only to be knocked flat on her back as whatever it was collided with her. The rest of the girls screamed and a high pitched animalistic shriek brought Po back to her senses and she leapt to her feet. For a moment the little red one was confused.

For there growling and shrieking like a wild animal was a white furred girl. Po gnashed her teeth and hissed, challenging the stranger. The girl met her eyes for a moment.

Before charging forward and shoved Po aside and running fast through the grass.

Tula helped Po to her feet, who tried to ignore the fact she had just been knocked down twice in row.

“She’s heading to the village!” One of the girls exclaimed.

Po raced after the wilder thing.

Dipsy quietly stood by the hole in the ground. Blocking out the elder’s voice just pretending he was listening. The graves was at the edge of the village, and was the most boring job to be assigned to, at least in Dipsy’s point of view anyway. But heck some people might like it, if you liked digging holes all day. He had already fallen in twice and it was before noon. At least none of them actually had a corpse in them yet, that would have been really unfortunate.

A white blur speeded past, just missing him and……. Make that three times.

Po leapt over the grave and Dipsy hastily climbed out.

What the heck was that? Shaking off dirt he joined Po in the chase after the white whatever it was.

It was fast, faster than most of them. Gaining on Po, Dipsy looked to the small red one and she looked right back. They were having a silent conversation, one that was only picked up with eyes and not ears.

It went something like this.

What is it?

It's a Wilder One.

It can't be, It's not big enough.

Well what else could it be!

Fare point.

Dipsy pushed himself ahead attempting to attain ground on the white creature. Cursing inwardly as she disappeared into the Entrance of the Maze Village.

Into the mud houses she ran, hoping to lose her pursuers in the confusion. She took a left turn, right, left, left, right, right, left. The turns appeared so fast that she often knocked into objects which fell and sometimes broke upon impact. Cries of alarm sounded from inside the strange structures, others tried to block her way but she shoved past them or took another direction.

Looking over her shoulder she saw the red one and the green one still on her tail. Taking a turn she silently screamed as she came to a dead end, not knowing what else to do she climbed up onto a basket and clawed her way onto the roof of a mud house. 

Taking a run and jump she leapt onto a second roof. As she leapt to the third a pair of hand grabbed her ankles and she was pulled down, missing the landing as her chest collided with the edge of the roof, a scream of pain left her mouth but was cut off as her chin met the same fate. Now on the ground she quickly wriggled out of her attacker's grip and ran ahead, three of four others had joined in the chase. 

She dodged snatching hands and leapt over a wall, landing in a different part of the maze. She whimpered stressfully, she had to get out of here. Knowing full well she couldn't keep this up forever. She had to hide. Running aimlessly until she saw the biggest building in the village. In through the window she looked around frantically for a moment, the sound of others got closer and so she ran up the stairs, passing several different floors. As she reached the roof she went to escape but collided with another body. 

They both scrambled to their feet and for a moment stared at each other. She flattened her ears and her fur stood on end, Ebat slowly raised his hands in a non threatening manor and took a careful step back. Footsteps running up the stairs made her panic.

She ran past the black tele and to the edge of the roof. A group of scouts stopped a few meters in front of her. She was cornered. Taking a breath, she took a step backwards.

Ebat and the scouts rushed forward, a fall at that height would kill her! A screech of outrage echoed off the walls.

Stone had caught the wild thing before she could hit the ground. She struggled in his grip, trying to scratch and bite but he held her at arm’s length, remaining silent despite the damage to his arms.

Tinky scratched the back of his head as he strolled back into the village, ready to turn in his weapons and spend the rest of his day doing recreational activates now that his shift was over. But before he could even reach the Auditorium he stopped in his tracks at the sight of the scouts carrying a screaming and struggling girl through the village.

Po and Dipsy approached him looking quite out of breath. Looking back and forth between the girl and his friends he instead just rooted for looking to the sky with a befuddled expression.

"What happened while I was gone?" 

"Nothing. We've just been protecting the village, what about you? Sleeping under a tree?" challenged Po.

 The elders all gathered in the Auditorium as the moon rose in the sky. All of them concerned on the matter that everyone had a strong opinion of, what to do about the wilder one. Many voices raised and many arguments strung the question with answers that might be considered questionable to one person’s ears, or considered reasonable if you shared another point of view.

Torches were lit and the Maze Village glowed luminously with fire light. Tinky sat out the front of his house sharpening a stick to a point. They had locked her in one of the empty mud houses, it had been stuff of nightmares. Screams and sounds of things getting broken echoed through the locked windows. After a few hours the wild thing had settled down but the quite was even more frightening than the screams.

Dipsy washed his hands in a bucket of water from the well and moved to lean against the wall beside his friend. Folding his arms, he clicked his tongue at the recollection of the day.

“What do you think should be done?”

Tinky stopped mid carve and looked up at the green one. Dipsy didn’t normally ask these kind of questions, at least not seriously anyway.

Tinky sighed, Dipsy knew what he thought. What he wanted to hear was his own opinion. Because he wasn’t able to voice it himself. They had always been able to tell what each other was thinking, ever since they were cubs.

“I think they should kill her.” Tinky said and went back to his stick.

Dipsy clenched his fists and bit his lip. He didn’t like to think about taking another life but when it seemed as though there was no other option he always turned to his friend for strength.

The older one smiled.

“Well, she frightened the farmers, assaulted Po, knocked you into hole in the ground, broke our stuff, gave everyone a heart attack and could have killed Ebat.”

Dipsy laughed, his normal self, breaking through his somber mood.

“Not like he would be much of a loss!”

“Heh, I guess your right.” They stared at each other for a moment before snorting into laughter at the thought.

“I don’t think that’s funny guys.”

Laa-Laa stood in the door way holding a bowl of GuanGuangs.

Dipsy rolled his eyes and stole a fruit, taking a few decent sized bites before chucking it to Tinky who had his turn of the meal.

“And what do you think the Elders should do then?” He asked wiping juice from his mouth.

Laa-Laa wrinkled her nose a little before eating her own fruits, little bites being careful not to get the sticky pulp on her yellow fur.

“I think they should let her go, it was you and Po who chased her into the village in the first place anyway.”

“Where is Po anyhow?” Tinky inquired, flicking his ears. She was never late for dinner.

“Ebat said she was called by the Elders since she was the first to see the Wilder One.” Dipsy offered as he began to lick his paws clean.

“I thought you hated Ebat?”

Dipsy froze.

“I DO hate Ebat!”

She opened her eyes and stared as the door opened, a black silhouette blocking the moonlight. She moved back and pressed herself against the corner but remained in a sitting position. Everything hurt now that the adrenaline had worn out and she remembered how much pain she had been.

The silhouette came inside and closed the door. Now that she saw him quickly she recognized him as the black tele she ran into on top of the big building. She puffed out her fur and snarled low and threatening. What did he want.

He raised his hands in a reassuring manor and got down to his knees. Seeing he was no threat she pulled her knees up to her chest and watched him as he went about his business collecting all the sharp pieces of smashed pottery and torn fabrics.

He didn’t pay her any sort of mind and pretty much pretended she wasn’t there.

Pausing he set everything down in a pile and picked up a fallen GuangGuang fruit. It was now he acknowledged her.

She tensed up as the male knelt down and held out the fruit to her. For a moment she glanced between him and the food. Before snorting and turning away from him.

This time he didn’t move away but sat down a bit away from her.

“Not hungry? You haven’t eaten anything for a few hours.” He gave her a smile, trying to seem friendly.

She stared at him for a moment before turning right around so she faced the wall.

The black tele frowned as he caught sight of a red stain concealed under the white fur of her side. Sighing he rolled the fruit over to her side before picking up the mess and leaving, locking the door behind him.

 Po leaned against the table, watching with no amusement as the Elders continued to bicker amongst themselves. The fire pit lit the room aflame and pints of water sat unfinished. It was comical really. Some of them yelled that they beast was obviously dangerous and should be put down. Others yelled that they should keep it and try to civilize it.

One extremely ancient looking elder didn’t bother joining in with the politics and instead voted just for sleeping with his head down on the table, having eaten too much GuangGuang fruit.

Po didn’t see the point of her even being hear if they weren’t going to talk to her. The only Elder who was still stable and calm was old Bishan, who just sat there patiently waiting for everyone else to shut up.

And as Ebat silently entered the room and sidled in next to him, Bishan cleared his throat loudly and the others drew to a standstill.

Silently the elders moved to their seats, the firelight crackling against wood the only sound. Bishan stood and moved with his usual limp to the front of the room. As he moved Po scrutinized an old scar running up his side. He was a scout when he was younger, the best scout in the history of the Maze Village.

He didn’t just look for signs of Wilder Ones, he fought them. That was something no one else was brave enough to do. His scars were the only thanks he ever got, Po looked up to him a lot.

When Bishan spoke his voice was that of an old warrior who has had many experience, it was always best to listen to him.

“As we know, earlier today a Wilder One came into the village. Po since you were the one who seen her first, tell us what happened.”

Slowly she got up and joined the elder at the front of the room and retold the tale. She felt proud of herself, if they realized how bravely she chased the Wilder One, how she tried to engage it in battle. Perhaps they’d let her be a scout. Perhaps Bishan would teach her to fight them, like he had done.

She would protect the village. Die with honor and be remembered as a warrior.

As the story foreclosed the elders looked amongst each other. Quite worried.

A old female looked to Po and smiled appraisingly.  

“Thank you Po, you may go home now.”

The little red one’s heart and hopes sank to bottom of her stomach. Silently she left the auditorium filled with disappointment.

Po slunk back down the alleyways, head down and moping as she kicked a stone along the path. It wasn’t fair! It was her who kept the farmers safe. She was the reason they even caught the Wilder One in the first place. She showed bravery and courage. So why was she always overlooked?

Entering the mud house she stared for a moment as her friends slept among the blankets. Laa-Laa had her head rested on Dipsy’s chest as the male’s arm cradled her shoulders holding her close to him. Po wrinkled her nose and wondered when those two were going to get a home. It was clear they wanted each other.

Tinky stirred as Po squeezed in between him and Dipsy. He gave her a tired smile but she just frowned at him and rolled over the other way. He almost laughed, she needn’t say more. It was obvious why she was upset. Sliding an arm around her waist he pressed his muzzle into the back of her head and licked her ears.

She was tired of always been underestimated cause of her size, he knew she thought she was meant for so much more than what they had planned for her. She may be brave, resilient and determined but he knew she wouldn’t last long in an actual battle. But Tinky never told her this, he let her think she was stronger than she was.

After a few minutes of comforting licks, she turned around and pressed up against him burying her face into his chest fur. Tinky tightened his hold as her body began to tremble slightly. He knew she’d fall asleep soon, and when she woke she’ll have forgotten her moment of weakness.

 The meeting was about to fall to a close, they had decided that perhaps it was best if the allowed the poor creature to die. Ebat tapped his fingers against the table, thinking silently. He had been in the room with the white beast and she hadn’t tried to harm him. So he wondered if it was unfair to kill without proper reason. In fact she had seemed more scared of them than any of them had been of her. And she was wounded, she had tried to hide it but Ebat clearly saw the blood on her ribs.

Honestly he wasn’t even sure if she was a Wilder One. But because of the way of things….. it was no secret that there were the occasional loners who lived outside of the village, some of them losing their mind and believing themselves to be animals. So it was as Ebat thought, shouldn’t they help those who need help?

Bishan went to leave but the young black tele grabbed his arm, getting his attention.

“Wait, Elder Bishan… may I address the council? I believe I may have some information that just might sway your opinions.” Ebat gave a smile, trying to win over the old warrior.

“Boy, you may be a philosopher but I don’t think you yet have enough experience or wisdom to make a proper judgement of these things.” Bishan said gruffly and ruffled the yearling’s fur.

Ebat couldn’t form any words…

“Let him speak.” Said Taa-Vee, she was a rather old female who in her youth had been the first to turn to the stars for answers instead of relying soly on the sun. She was his mentor when he was younger. Teaching the cub how to chart the night sky and make constellations and use these to shape their maps of their world.

Ebat swallowed thickly, he didn’t know how they would react to his theory.

“For along time we have wondered if there were any other villages out there besides the loners, we have always assumed that we were the only ones. But that is because the loners are those we already know, those of us that were once a part of our village.”

“And what’s your point boy?” Bishan inquired, wanting to know where this was going.

“Well, the girl that we caught today couldn’t have been a Wilder One, I mean, Bishan you’ve seen the Wilder Ones up close. Doesn’t she seem a bit on the small side?”

The sleeping elder suddenly woke and lifted a hand.

“He’s right you know…. Say Bishan, how big did you say they were…” Before slumping back down onto the table, asleep again. The other elders whispered in agreement.

The old brown Bishan nodded slightly, remembering as he rubbed a rather long scar on his shoulder.

“Most of them are only a few feet taller than us, but twice as wide and thick with muscle.” He said, finally agreeing.

“See, that girl can’t be a Wilder One, she’s too small. But I believe that it’s possible she might be a loner, but wouldn’t we already know who she is if that was the case?” Ebat was quick to point out.

Bishan’s eyes seemed to light up, finally seeing what the yearling was insinuating.

“It is my belief that she could possibly be part of another village or some sort of clan. Think, a whole other civilization hidden from our knowledge! Wouldn’t it be good to at least find out if there are others besides ourselves?”

As he finished Ebat knew he had won. At least for now, they wouldn’t harm the creature.

Taa-Vee seemed to consider this before she told him that they would further discuss the possibility and decide what would be done from there before dismissing him, insisting that the young male get some sleep.

 The cubs laughed loudly as they followed their mothers to the river, it was a big day for them. It was the first time they would go to the large embodiment of water and they wondered what adventures would await them, possibly fish! The elders told them stories about fish, how they sometimes came up river to get away from the beasties of the deep dark wood.

Tinky’s mother told him that it was best to remain quite when at the river, for that was where most of the Wilder One attacks happened. But of course, cubs don’t really listen to their mothers when some new and exciting such as this happened.

His excitement faded into awe when the long grass shortened and eventually came to a stop, the river was humongous! It stretched from the Mountain and traveled past their Fields and eventually into the Forest, and across the river you could barely see, but Tinky thought he could see land. Far, far way.

He screamed as he was pushed forward and landed with a splash into the water, growling he looked up and glowered at another cub. Grabbing the green boy’s wrist he pulled him into the water and dunked him under.

Dipsy yelped as he went under and shot back up grabbing the older cub’s head and climbed on top of him forcing him into the water. Only to squeal indignantly as Tinky came back up and pounced on him, tickling his ribs.

Laa-Laa watched unimpressed as the boys wrestled in the river. She stood close to her mother who held her hand and helped the cub wade through the river reeds. Something shimmered in the water, giving off a shine of light.

Reaching down the little yellow cub pulled the object out of the water, it was a whitish pink shell! Admiring the pretty thing, she tugged on her mother’s fur to share the discovery. The older female explained that once, a long time ago that this shell was in fact a living thing, something that either used this shell as a home or was the shell.

Laa-Laa was confused, how could something so pretty like this ever had been a living thing? It simply didn’t make sense.

Tinky pulled Dipsy back towards him as the other struggled desperately but the older continued his relentless assault. The green cub screamed as he suffered another tickle attack when suddenly he was forced under the water, Tinky on having lost all sense of balance and had fallen forwards. They both thrashed desperately trying to resurface but it seemed that something was pinning Tinky underwater and Dipsy was getting crushed by the weight of the other.

Eventually whatever it was, was thrown off by all the struggling. They both rose from the water coughing and gasping for air. A loud laughing made them look around as they saw an unusually small sized, red cub completely unaware that she had nearly drowned them.

 Laa-Laa sighed as she felt earth in her fingers, having got up early. She lay in the middle of the fields. Looking up at the blueish purple sky, the golden light of the dawn shimmering against the long grass. She felt weightless and distant. She always woke up before anyone else. Honestly, she couldn’t say why but she thought it might have been because she was the only one alive until the rest of the day unfolded itself.

She could let herself fade away just like the morning fog. In her mind she wasn’t laying in the grass fields anymore, she was laying among wild flowers. The type that grew out of the ground. Like it said in the Ancient Scrolls. She’d never seen them but she imagined that they were beautiful and filled with color, she wondered if they existed. She liked to think they did. After all. The Ancient Scrolls spoke of many things they had no proof of.

The wind blew and petals began to fly into the peach colored sky. Laa-Laa breathed deeply and took in the strange scent. She reached out and caught one. Holding it to her chest she closed her eyes as the wind gently kissed her fur.

“Laa-Laa!”

The yellow female jerked out of her day dream with a wheeze, clutching her chest in fright. She gave Feather an annoyed glance. The lilac female smiled apologetically having forgotten that waking Laa-Laa so suddenly while she was dreaming was dangerous. The yellow one got to her feet and brushed off the dirt.

“So, what is their decision?” Laa-Laa inquired as they walked back to the village. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Feather sighed dramatically, looking to the sky and pulling on her ears.

“Their going to let her go.”

“That’s good…”

“No. Their going to let her go but they are sending us to follow her.”

Laa-Laa’s eyes widened. What!

 Tinky joined Stone and Feather as they took arms. It was time to go. The elders had given them very clear instructions, follow the feral thing and find out if there are more of them. The village was oddly quite as everyone remained inside their houses. Not knowing how the feral thing would act once she was let out.

He hoped she wouldn’t try to kill anyone. 

Ebat watched from the window of his house as the scouts began to group up. He was glad that he was able to save her. He doubted that she would do anything to harm them, if his theories were correct then she shouldn’t waste any time in trying to run home. He wondered if perhaps she lived far from them, perhaps over the mountain. It was possible the scouts wouldn’t be home for weeks or even months. Either way he would be eager to document everything.

Po sat at the edge of the roof of the auditorium. A slight frown tugging at her face. When Bishan had asked scouts to volunteer for the task she had immediately raised her hand jumping up and down eagerly. No one even looked at her as usual. Dipsy stood behind her holding his shovel. He smiled as the little red one pouted. To be honest he was kind of envious of Tinky, it wasn’t every day you got to go on an adventure after all. But he wasn’t a scout and it was likely to be a very dangerous journey.

“Oh stop pouting!” The green one tried and ruffled her head. Po glowered and snapped at his fingers.

“Hey, I know what will cheer your up, how about we go and…”

“Go and follow them at a distance and go on a adventure of a life time!” Po exclaimed jumping to her feet and darting past the green one.

“Wait what!! No! That’s not what I said!!” Dipsy exclaimed chasing after the little red one before she could get herself into trouble.

 She got to her feet as the door opened. She flicked her ears back and wrinkled her nose baring her canines. The male seemed to stare at her for a moment despite not being able to see. He had a thick bandage around his head, covering his eyes. He was larger than the others, by about a foot and he looked like he was strong, very strong.

“Come on.” He said and stepped to the side allowing her room to leave. She tilted her head a bit, and slowly crept to the door. She paused in the doorway squinting her eyes as the sudden light hit her face. She looked about timidly. As her gaze fell upon the large male, she left the mud house and stepped into the streets.

Looking around she saw two others standing a little bit away, but close enough. Taking a breath, she shuddered, fur fluffing up before flattening itself back down. The lager male began to walk down a street but stopped and looked back to her. Her claws unsheathed a little but she forced herself to relax. Cautiously she began to follow him, aware as the other two crept along behind her.

It surprised her at how easily he was able to navigate the maze, even with sight she had gotten lost when she first ran through here. Eventually they came to the entrance of the Maze Village. The blind male stopped here. As he stepped to the side, he held his paw to sweep over the Fields.

“You’re free to go.” He said simply. A large smile spread over her face and she seemed to jump a little. Quickly she darted past him and into the grass but then stopped.

Tinky’s face contorted in confusion. He expected her to take off as soon as she got out of the village. He was impressed with how Stone had been able to lead her without any need for restraint. But what he didn’t understand was why she was hesitating to leave. He shared a glance with Feather who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Looking to the Mountains she seemed to make a whining noise, ears falling low on her head and her hand raised to her ribs. Resting there for a moment before she huffed and looked to the forest. Another low whine came from her throat and she suddenly ran for the forest.

They watched as she disappeared into the long grass and waited for a for half a minute. It was then they followed her path.

As she ran through the fields, she could feel the life under her feet. The stir of the air in her fur as she allowed herself to embrace her newly acquired freedom. Glad to be rid from her captors she sighed as a weight dropped off her shoulders. She ran as far as she could, going as fast as she could, pushing herself to her limit wanting to just use her legs as much as possible. Eventually she skidded to a stop, panting slightly.

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and felt each individual blade of grass in her fingers. Felt the life of the thousand ants as they climbed to the top of the grass to soak in the rays of sun. Satisfied, she began to walk down the invisible path. The trees seemed a lot larger now that she was closer to them. Much taller as well. It was hear the grass came to an end.

She stared beyond, watching and waiting for any signs of possible dangers. The sound of birds and calls of animals made her relax, and she entered the jungle. Soon disappearing among the trees, ferns and a wide range of other flora.

Tinky shared a glance with his fellow scouts and watched from the grass as the feral girl leaves the light and step into the dark of the forest.

Once they were sure she would be far enough away they left the sheltering Fields and followed her into the forest.

His jaw slightly hanged open as he took in the strange new world, he had seen the forest drawn in the pictures of the Ancient Scrolls but this was something else entirely. Colour filled everything, flowers of all different varieties covered almost every tree, and it was so bright, dark but bright somehow at the same time. Strange plants grew out of the ground. And leaves had turned brown and crunched under each step. Long vines hung down from branches and were hard to navigate. It was most purely spectacular.

A buzzing sound made him draw his spear and hold it at the ready.

Feather gasped and pointed in amazement.

“Oh wow!” A strange creature hovered there it’s wings beating so fast it was almost impossible to see. It seemed to study them for a little bit before shooting off through the branches.

Stone pressed his hand against a tree and hummed in thought, feeling as a incredibly large insect crawled onto his hand and up his arm, these animals were unlike what they were use to, even Stone with his unseeing eyes could see that.

“Ebat would love this.” He said simply and walked forward a little bit, and put his paws to the ground feeling the soil.

“She went this way”

They traveled Southwards, through the world of many colors. The further they went the more alien the forest became. Pink moss grew out of black trees and had a strange glow to it. Unusually large insects often scurried from under their feet. Eventually it became clear that the feral girl had taken this path, Feather noticed by the way the plants had been parted, pushed over and sometimes broken.

Tinky breathed deeply and took in the many scents, tree bark, rain, decay… blood. Bingo.

Giving the others a nod, he took the lead. Crouching down he crept up ahead. The ferns became thicker as he went up the hill, the dead leaves were moved aside. As though they had been swept out of the way just like the mothers swept to sand out of their houses. Further up the hill there was a large tree that had fallen over, now having decayed all through the inside it would be the perfect spot for a place to hide.

As he approached he silently laid down on his stomach and crawled along the ground. He was right beside the log. Pressing himself against it he put his ear to the wood and listened. She was on the inside, he could hear her as she shuffled about, making a nest by the sound of it. Quietly creeping back down the hill, he gave Feather a smile.

“She’s on the inside, we’ll go back a bit further into those bushes so she doesn’t see us.”

“It depends on the wind.” Stone added, looking straight ahead. Feather nodded in agreement.

“He’s right, if it goes up hill we’ll have to change our position.” She said helpfully and Tinky grimaced, embarrassed at having forgotten.

“Fare point, fare point. Ok so at the moment the wind is at our advantage, but if it changes we’ll circle around to the side. Even if it goes up she won’t smell us.”

Her fears folded with the leaves, no longer present as she began to make her nest in the safety of the log. It would be alright now. She wouldn’t be found, just stay in the forest, stay in the forest. It would be warm in hear, shielding from the cold dark nights that lay ahead. Honestly, she considered herself lucky to even be alive at the moment. Considering how likely it was that those Field Tele would have killed her.

She pulled the leaves and put them in place, making a small pile. Not really a comfortable bed but it would work for a few nights. At least it was safe in hear- she felt something crawling over her feet.

Freezing up she forced herself to look down and her fur bristled and stood on end, what the heck was that? Eyes widening a tiny shriek caught itself in her throat as the thing looked up at her and seemed to blink with several different eyes. It may have taken her five minutes to get into that log. Well, it only took her five seconds to get out.

As she broke through the cobwebs and the sunlight blinded her vision temporarily her foot caught on a root tripping her up. Flipping over onto her back she scurried backwards as the creature followed her out. As it reared up she could see how frightening it was.

The largest insect she had ever seen, five or six feet tall, towering above her as it reared back waving hundreds of legs, mandibles gnashing menacingly. She scrambled to her feet and withdrew from the path of the giant centipede.

Seeing no challenger, the old log monster dropped down and suddenly, appeared quite small. Her heart beat slowing down she moved to the side, as it’s eyes seemed to follow her. The log was out of bounds, that much was clear.

Crouching down she crept closer, curious. As the centipede moved suddenly, she darted back. It turned towards her and seemed to wriggle its antenna curiously.  She smiled and moved forward again, poking the insect in the head before shooting back with a chirp. The beast clicked it’s mandibles and turned away heading back to the log.

She tilted her head slightly, catching sight of something not quite right. One of the centipede’s plates was lifted, not by much, but enough to be noticeable. Trailing after the creature she found the reason; a sharp stick had been lodged under the plate. The feral girl grimaced as she imagined how painful that would be.

Sneaking up behind she made a rash decision and grabbed the giant splinter, she tightened her grip and pulled. If the centipede could of screamed, it would have. It reared up threateningly, towering over her with full intention to kill. She screamed and curled into a ball, bracing for the worst. The insect seemed to pause, it wriggled itself a bit before dropping back down and clicked happily.

The feral girl sighed in relief as the log monster scurried around her in circles gratefully.

 Tinky yawned as he sat in the darkness. Night had finally come to the forest after a long day of remaining out of sight. Hiding in bushes wasn’t as fun as it had been when they were kids. They hadn’t made a fire but she had. Honestly, he was surprised the feral one even knew how. Being well, you know, feral.

He rubbed his eyes in an effort to stay awake, he hadn’t thought it would be this easy to fall asleep. Sighing he leaned his head back against a tree with another yawn. Looking over at Stone it was impossible to tell if he was asleep or awake, as he was unable to see his eyes. Feather looked like she was on the brink of sleep, leaning against Stone and barley able to keep her eyes open. Pulling his face Tinky groaned inwardly. If he had known he wouldn’t get any sleep he wouldn’t have volunteered for this. Why did he volunteer again? Right. Cause no one else wanted to do it. Well… besides the other two anyway.

Stone shifted uncomfortably. His ears twitched as he slowly sat up straight. Feather whined, annoyed at the loss of her pillow. The larger raised a finger to his lips. Quiet. Stone slowly got to his knees and gently pushed his hands into the ground, curling his fingers slightly into the soil. He could feel something, something that came through the ground and sent and odd feeling up through his fingers and into his paws. It was large. Large and heavy, dangerous.

 She laid in the earth, the light of the fire reflecting on the trees. The overhanging canopy shielded her from the moons light, except for the delicate shimmers that managed to sneak through gaps in the leaves. The two lights merged. Gold and silver intertwined with each other. The night creatures cried, screamed and sang. She closed her eyes and listened to the voices of the forest, allowing them to fill her with wonder. She could hear every whisper, every laugh. The sound of everything around her. Life, death. Birth and growth. Each flowed into and out of each other in perfect unity. The voices in the trees silenced. Her ears slowly rotated and she pushed her fingers into ground. Something was there.

Slowly she moved to her knees. She could feel it better now, it was close. Too close. In fact, it was right over there. In the shadowed undergrowth, just by the intertwining trees. She remained still, her fingers slowly spread into the earth and she closed her eyes. The feeling curled into her hand and spread up into her chest, from there creeping over her whole body. Her head shot back out of pure reflex and she gasped as the feeling left her body. She knew what it was. She tensed herself, ready to bolt. A pair of yellow eyes shone in the darkness. Her claws unsheathed, her fur rising.

Tinky was on his feet the second the first scream pierced the night air. Quickly he raced up the hill, Feather and Stone right behind him. They stopped by the log and peered over silently. Tinky couldn’t move, not even to duck down. It was a Wilder One.

She screamed and fought, struggling to get out from under him. Clawing at the earth and his flesh in a futile attempt of escape. He snapped at her neck ferociously, grabbing at her wrists as he knelt over her. She kicked at the ground as her adrenaline fueled her to fight and flight. She was screaming in small frightened shrieks. As he pinned her wrists to the forest floor, she gave a wailing cry when his teeth wrapped around her throat.

Feather grabbed Stone’s arm helplessly, what could they do? What should they do? She was torn, help or hide. She drew her spear and went to leap over the log but Stone caught the scruff of her neck and pulled her back down. What!? Why not! Why shouldn’t they try to save her? Feather was furious. Stone never hesitated. Not in battle, certainly not when aide was needed. So why was this different?

“We have to do something; he’s going to kill her!” She hissed at them. Outraged at the two males’ reluctance. Tinky pulled at his head fur, torn between his impulse to rush in and protect the female and his instinct run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Eventually his desire to protect won out.

“We have to help her.”

Stone’s fur suddenly rose.

“Don’t look down.”

They looked down. A simultaneous shriek caught in their throats as the giant centipede scurried over their feet and darted past them.

With a growl she sunk her teeth into his muzzle, biting down as hard as she could. The Wilder One tore away from her. He gave a savage snarl as he spat out a mouth full of blood. Then his paw was on her face, claws dangerously pricking her skin. She knew how easily he could kill her, how he could tear apart her face with one swipe. She whined, preparing for the worst but gasped as the old log monster reared up behind the big black beast. A hundred legs waving as it lunged forward drilling its mandibles into the Wilder One’s neck.

The whole forest awoke to the sound of an excruciating scream. The Wilder One tried to flee from the gnashing jaws, but the centipede wrapped its body around him. It’s legs inflicting as much damage as its teeth.

Tinky rushed forward and snatched her arms, hoisting her to her feet. Gripping her wrist tightly he pulled the feral one along as the four of them ran through the dark forest, away from the butchering battle taking place behind them.

Eventually the screams faded and the firelight diminished in the distance. They kept running. The forest seemed thicker, the trees tore at their fur, and vines tangled and tripped them. A loud cry of a night creature sent them further into the dark.

The feral one dug her heels into the ground. Tinky turned to face her as her hand slipped from his. He stopped as he finally saw her. Her face contorted into that of accusation. He swallowed, a sliver of moonlight leaked through the trees and shone down, illuminating her white fur. Her blue eyes studying him intently.

“Tinky?” Stone asked. The purple one turned to his friend.

“Why you follow after me.” The three of them stared at the white one.

“You can talk?” Feather asked, astonished. The feral one did not look amused.

“Why. You. Follow. Me.” She said again. Slower this time, ears flicking in annoyance.

“We wanted to see where you came from. If there were others like you,” Stone said simply. His face and tone were steady with the same composure he displayed every day.

She seemed to understand then as her stance relaxed and she nodded, looking through them.

“You no mean others like me. You mean others like you.” She smiled then, almost friendly, but her eyes held a pitying gleam that Tinky found a bit off putting.

“Are there?” He asked. Trying to put authority into his voice. He did not like being condescended. Not by the Elders, not by the adults, and certainly not by a feral girl living like a wild animal.

“Not that I’ve seen with my eyes.” The three scouts shared a disappointed glance. This entire trip had been a waste of time. The feral one turned to leave.

“Wait. You live out here?” Feather asked, stepping forward suddenly. The white beauty looked at them cautiously before shaking her head.

“Then where do you live.” It was Stone who spoke this time.

“… Mountains.” She said after some hesitance. This time her answer left them dumbfounded and confused. How could she survive in the Mountains with all the Wilder Ones up there?

“Then why did you come down here?” Tinky asked.

“He chased me down. I was running from him.” She looked around nervously. As if expecting the big black one to burst out of the darkness at any moment.

“Come back with us. It’s safer in the village,” Tinky had never been brave enough to try and hit Stone, but by the sun he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to at this moment.

“I don’t think the Elders would like that” He proclaimed, trying to get his comrades to see reason. Feather rolled her eyes.

“Well we can’t come back empty handed saying that there are in fact, no one else out hear. And we know that because she told us so!” She declared, spreading her arms to emphasize. Then she added.

“And we can’t leave her out here, not if he’s looking for her.”

Tinky sighed and pulled his face in exasperation. There was no room to argue, and he didn’t have the heart to leave anyone for dead. She would have to return to the village with them.

“Oh alright fine!” He turned to the white female.

“What’s your name anyway?” She only blinked; her face held no emotion. She was the strangest and most beautiful creature they had ever seen. So what was it about her that made Tinky’s fur stand on end?

“Snow. My name is Snow.”

[katjacksonbooks]

Preorder EVERY NEW YEAR

When Ezra Posner was eighteen, he met Candace Garret and fell in love. When Candace met Ezra, she instantly knew he was the boy for her. In the middle of their first year at college, Candace and Ezra share a clumsy kiss that should have been the beginning of an epic love affair, but it's not. Instead, it begins a nearly two-decade journey of never quite getting the timing right for love. For almost every New Year's Eve after, Candace and Ezra stumble into one another's arms, but can’t manage to hold onto each other for more than a single night. They live with the expectant giddiness of being able to spend New Year's Eve with the person they love, always hoping that next year will be their year. Until eventually, their annual trysts ruin even the friendship that held them together. As 2019 ends, Candace and Ezra are both running away from their broken hearts. They board a plane hoping to finally move on from their relationship, only to run right into each other's arms. Every New Year is a friends-to-lovers romance that takes nearly twenty years to bloom. It's also the first in the Love At Last series, where happily ever afters might take some time to mature, but they're always worth the wait.

Read on to see Candace and Ezra’s first NYE kiss!

DECEMBER 31, 2001

 Ezra Posner really didn’t want to be at this party. Actually, if he’d realized that his roommate, Miles Jefferson, would force him to leave the comfort of their dorm room and trek halfway across campus and then halfway up a hill, he would have pretended to be asleep until Miles left without him. He didn’t like parties. And he certainly didn’t like New Year’s Eve parties in the woods with the kids who’d decided – or had no other choice but – to stay on campus over winter break. They’d hiked into the hills surrounding their semi-rural campus to have their own New Year’s Eve celebration; all crushed together around a bonfire and listening to someone’s cheap boombox on low so they could keep an ear out for campus police.

The smell of smoke and cheap vodka made Ezra’s stomach turn. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to spend his New Year’s Eve and he was growing more annoyed that he’d let Miles drag him up here by the minute. But when he turned toward his best friend, he saw him sloshing that cheap swill into a red plastic cup with a frown. When he saw Ezra looking at him, he chuckled and then poured nearly half a bottle of orange juice into the cup “for taste,” meaning he needed to hide the burn of bottom barrel liquor. He held the cup out to Ezra and raised his own in toast.

“Cheers,” Miles said, smiling at Ezra with raised eyebrows. He’d given him the same smile when they’d met at summer orientation and then immediately suggested they become roommates.

Ezra raised his eyebrows at his friend, took the smallest sip he could manage and cringed. Miles didn’t notice. He was too distracted by Mei Barnes, the actual reason they’d come out tonight. She’d been the singular object of his attention all fall semester. Every week – sometimes every day – Miles had subjected Ezra to very detailed lectures about how Mei was literally the best, most perfect, beautiful girl on campus; maybe even in the world. Miles was the king of hyperbole. Ezra watched as Miles clutched his cup and began to inch through the crowd toward his crush and once again marveled at seeing his normally confident and sociable friend tur into a ball of nerves even though it was obvious that his attraction was completely reciprocal. Ezra stepped away from the glare and heat of the bonfire into the shadows and hoped – for Miles’s sake and the sake of his productivity – that those two would finally get together.

But just because he was rooting for their relationship, didn’t mean Ezra had to sacrifice his liver in celebration. He dumped his drink into a nearby bush, tossed his cup into the trash bag by the “bar” and went in search of a place to sit, hide, and wait for this all to end.

He settled onto a cold flat-topped rock and wished he’d worn a thicker sweater. He pressed the button on his digital watch to check the time. Eleven o’clock on the dot. He sighed. He didn’t think he could last another hour out here, but he didn’t want to leave Miles, especially not with how fast he and Mei were guzzling their drinks, smiling nervously at one another as if this was the first time they’d ever met. He wished again that he’d pretended to be asleep when Miles had burst into their dorm room, a towel around his waist, his shower caddy in one hand and excitedly told him to “get ready nerd, we’re going to a party.” Ezra also wished he hadn’t paid such close attention to the refrigerator magnet they all received at orientation about drinking responsibly and looking out for your friends, so he could have slipped down the hill without feeling guilty.

Either way, he wished that he was back in his dorm room working, because these were peak productive hours, and work was the entire reason he��d come back to campus immediately after Hanukkah. If he was going to submit his 3D scale model of his efficient train engine on time and with even half a chance of winning the Gilder prize, he needed to be giving it his full attention during every free moment of every day. He couldn’t afford to waste these few precious weeks before spring semester started observing someone else’s teenage romance and edgy underage drinking in the woods. He checked his watch again. One minute after eleven.

“Anybody sitting here?”

Ezra jumped at the voice. He looked up and couldn’t quite see who was standing in front of him with the bonfire behind them casting shadows over their face, but he didn’t need light to recognize her. He would have known that voice and silhouette anywhere.

Candace Garret was tall, almost as tall as him, with big curly hair that framed her head and gave her a few inches more height, wide hips and the brightest smile he’d ever seen. She was also way out of his league. He knew that. She knew that. Everyone knew that. Because Candace Garret was way out of everyone’s league.

“Hello,” she said again, leaning close and waving a hand in front of his face.

His vision adjusted as her lips spread into a small smile. Ezra was mesmerized by that flash of her bright white teeth and her even, flawless, deep dark brown skin that seemed to drink in every bit of light around them.

“Anybody in there?” she laughed.

He jumped from the rock and their heads collided.

“Ow,” she whined and rubbed at her forehead.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Ezra said, panicked, his own head beginning to throb. “Shit.”

His face heated and his eyes widened. What if he’d given Candace Garret a concussion? She was rubbing small circles on her forehead but still smiling at him. This only made the embarrassment he felt intensify. But ringed around that shame was the same awe he always felt in her presence.

“Calm down, Ezra. I won’t press charges. This time.” Her voice was calm but playful.

“I- You know my name?”

She laughed and shook her head.

Ezra loved Candace’s laugh. So much so that he’d catalogued and ranked his favorite moments of becoming absolutely mesmerized by it. In descending order, Ezra’s top five Candace Garret laughs were:

5. Once in the middle of their Chem II lab. He’d become distracted and accidentally ruined three days of an experiment.

4.  Once in the dining hall during the lunch rush. He’d heard her above the din and mistakenly dumped an entire ladle of ranch dressing on his grilled cheese sandwich rather than the salad he’d forgotten to make because he’d been too busy trying to get a glimpse of her across the room.

3. He’d been rushing from English to the engineering lab when he’d heard her distinctive twinkle wafting along the late fall breeze. His head whipped around as he searched for her on the Oval. When he’d found her, Candace was surrounded by half the basketball team and they were fighting each other for her attention. She was ignoring them and reading a comic book, laughing as she turned the pages.

2. That one time Miles had begged him to tag along to Mei and Candace’s dorm room. Ezra had spent the entire hour leaning awkwardly against her desk – too terrified to take her up on the offer to sit on her bed – while Miles had entertained them with jokes Ezra never heard because Candace’s laughter took over all his senses.

1. Well actually, he’d forgotten his number one favorite laugh because it was immediately replaced by this one. Every other time he’d heard that throaty melody, he’d been a bystander; accidentally infringing on someone else’s moment with her or her own moment with herself. But when she finally laughed with him – at him – it felt so much better, even if it shouldn’t have. It sounded so much sweeter.

“Of course, I know your name,” she said pulling him out of stasis. “My roommate and your roommate have been playing cat and mouse with each other since orientation.” She laughed as she turned and pointed at the party.

Ezra assumed she was gesturing at Miles and Mei. The two had basically imprinted on each other from the moment they’d met, and he and Candace had been unwitting spectators to the inevitable. But he didn’t look their way, so he couldn’t be sure, because for the first time all semester Candace Garret was looking at him. Talking to him. Laughing at him. And it was heaven.

When she turned back, her smile slipped slightly but only for a second. “Why are you over here all by yourself, Ezra?”

Her voice was different than he’d ever heard it. Deeper maybe? Intimate, he hoped for a fleeting second.

“I don’t like parties,” he admitted quietly.  

Her smile narrowed to a grin and it made him feel like they shared a secret. “Yeah, neither do I,” she said. “Especially not outdoor parties with cheap liquor and a severely high chance of starting a forest fire.”

He smiled or at least he thought he did. “This is really irresponsible.”

“Totally. But we’re supposed to be the brightest of the bright. The best of the best,” she said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. He always liked that about her; that she could seem older and wiser and smarter than everyone else around them with a simple inflection of her voice, a wry smile and a graceful tip of her head.

“I-if you don’t like parties, why are you here?”

She moved to the rock he’d jumped from and lowered herself onto it gracefully. She did everything with grace. Candace was the exact opposite of his awkward, gangly mess of an existence. She looked up at him and waited until he sat back down. Next to her. His hands started to sweat as he lowered to the rock, perching on the edge so he could leave room between them because he knew she hadn’t meant for him to touch her; not even accidentally. She couldn’t have meant that, life couldn’t be so perfect as to give him his most cherished – albeit secret – fantasy.

“I’m here for the same reason you’re here probably,” she finally said. “To watch out for my roommate.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Ezra said. This time he did look at the party and his eyes zeroed in on their roommates. They were standing in the middle of the clearing making out, swaying slowly together even though the loud rap music blaring from the stereo was up tempo. Ezra might have thought their first kiss after months of pining would be gentle and slow like their swaying. It was not. They were attacking one another’s mouths. Aggressively. And they didn’t seem to care who saw them.

“So gross,” Candace muttered under her breath.

“Exactly how much have they had to drink?” He could feel Candace shift on the rock, closing the distance between them. Clearly accidentally.

“Too much. Not enough. Who knows? I think tonight was just a reason to make it official. That gross kiss is what young love looks like, my friend,” she snorted.

He turned to her and gulped before speaking, he was so nervous. She’d called him ‘friend.’ “What would you be doing if you weren’t here?”

She really seemed to think about her answer before she made eye contact with him and shrugged, “Don’t know, actually. Maybe reading or washing clothes since the laundry rooms are empty for once. Something boring for sure.”

He frowned slightly. “That’s not what I would have imagined,” he breathed.

She slid across the bench; her left thigh pressed against his right. Ezra swallowed a gasp. “I’m not nearly as deep and interesting as everyone thinks,” she said, almost shyly. And then she straightened, her elbow grazing his ribs. “What about you? What would you be doing?”

He had to force himself to breathe normally before he could answer. And even when he was able to speak, his voice sounded strained, tense. “Easy,” he croaked. “I’d be working on my submission to the Gilder engineering competition,” he said. He could still feel the sharp, sweet pain of her accidental touch.

“And what’s that?”

“Engineering innovations prize. The winner gets half a million-dollar investment to build a real model of their submission and career mentoring.”

“That’s amazing. When is it due?”

“Senior year.”

She blinked rapidly. “What?” She turned fully toward him, her left leg bent, and the dull point of her knee dug into his thigh. “It’s not due for three more years and you’re already working on it?”

He gulped. So much of her body was touching his. He tried to regulate his breathing and slow his heartbeat by sheer force of will. “It’s a huge deal,” he croaked. “They only give one prize every four years. There are people who’ve been working on their submissions since high school. And some alums are coming back to enter. Technically, I’m behind. I really should be in my room working on my project.” He said the last sentence – the same thing he’d been thinking for the past hour – but for the first time he didn’t mean it. For this beautiful, unexpected moment, Candace’s leg touching his was so much more important than the prize that had been his singular obsession since high school.

And then what would surely be the best night of his life got even better. He tried not to tense when her hands landed on his shoulders, but he did. Because Candace Garret was touching him on purpose. She turned him toward her.

She was beautiful. Her lips were parted in shock. Her eyes were wide. And then her mouth shifted from that wry grin to a full on, prize worthy, brighter than the sun smile that took his actual breath away. “You’re an interesting guy, Ezra Posner,” she whispered. “Real interesting.”

And then she kissed him.