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magics-neptunes-things · 30 days ago

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Mockingjay - Part 7

Hi guys :)

I don't have anything to say for this one, just be careful about the triggers warning.

Enjoy!

TW : Death, blood, murders, face injury, injuries in general.

Chapter before

“Ona”

Ona frowns and stirs, being awakened in her sleep. She knows that voice and it’s what finally really wakes up.

Opening her eyes, she finds herself right in front of Jana. The girl is smiling, looking as peaceful and sweet as she always has been. Ona stands up abruptly, almost falling in the process.

“What are you doing here? Wait, am I dead?” she starts to panic.

Ona looks around her anxiously, trying to learn what is happening. There is nothing around them but trees. The last thing she remembers is falling asleep on the tree with Teagan next to her, when the boy assured her that he had slept enough.

“You’re not dead” Jana smiles at her.

Ona nods, still wondering what the hell is happening. But if it’s a dream, it’s the first time she dreams about Jana while being almost conscious about what is happening. Jana is still looking at her, smiling. She seems so peaceful, with her hair in the usual braid she was wearing every day. Jana doesn’t talk, she just keeps looking at Ona.

Seconds pass and it’s maybe time to say things she says while she talks to her, Ona thinks. But what to begin with?

“Jana, I’m so sorry” Ona says, taking a step to be closer to her.

“About what?”

The question seems genuine. Jana tilts her head on the side, still looking at Ona with a real query.

“For not knowing how to protect you, I guess? You were so young; it was so unfair…”

“It was” Jana smiles sadly. “I’m sorry that it made you suffer so much”

Ona shrugs, looking at her feet. Of course, she suffered from her girlfriend’s death, but she’s pretty sure she suffers very less than Jana herself. Imagine her being scared every single second is crushing her lungs. That’s why she’s trying to protect Teagan, Jana didn’t have someone to look after her when she was in that arena.

“But I’m okay now, you know. Plus, I had a happy life before all of this. I had a loving and caring family, amazing friends, and a perfect girlfriend.”

Ona smiles and raises her eyes again on her when Jana taps her feet with hers. Jana was sweet, but definitely a tease too. Something Ona loved very much.

“A lot of people from the Capitol or the career Districts don’t have that. I was lucky to have all of you.”

She seems sincere and for some reason it makes Ona feel a little lighter. Like if a weight was removed from her shoulders. Jana was right, it wasn’t maybe the perfect life, but at least they were happy.

“Why don’t you think your girlfriend hasn’t talked to you about her family yet?” Jana adds.

It catches Ona’s attention, and she feels herself blushing hard. Ona finds herself babbling about something she doesn’t understand herself, which seems to amuse Jana a lot. Seeming to take pity on Ona, Jana finally interrupted her.

“Ona I’m not mad, please breathe” the girl giggles.

Ona obliges and takes a big breath, trying to calm her nerfs.

“You’re not?” Ona whispers.

“Of course not. You deserve happiness and if it’s with her it’s okay. She seems to be a great girl.”

“You talk like we are living on a peaceful island, not a war arena” Ona points out.

“You always have been the pessimist one” Jana rolls her eyes.

Ona rolls her eyes too. Even if Jana is right, optimism was never something very strong in her personality. But given the life they had, it can be understandable can’t it?

“You can survive this, Ona. I know it.”

“How?” Ona frowns.

“You wear my necklace. I’ll protect you.”

Ona looks at Jana for some more seconds. There is so much she wants to say to Jana, but just when she opens her mouth again, she hears someone else calling her.

“Ona. Ona!”

Ona wakes up in a burst, looking around her quickly again, panting heavily. Jana isn’t here anymore, she’s back on her tree with Teagan next to her. The boy seems uncomfortable next to her, making her wonder what is happening.

“I’m sorry, but you were whispering strange things. And I think an insect bit you.”

He points somewhere near Ona’s neck, and the girl mechanically puts her hand on it. She can feel the bite, hot under her fingers.

“What does the bite look like?” she asks Teagan.

“Like a stretched round, purple” he says, leaning a little bit to have a better look at it.

“Dreaming bees” Ona sighs. “They can cause hallucinations if they bite you. It can be very strong if the bee is adult, this one might have been a baby”

She rubs her neck softly, thinking a little more. She learned about those bees in survival classes, they are pretty hard to fight because they are hard to crush. And they usually live together, not alone.

“We probably should move from here, this bee probably isn’t alone. We can find another tree or go exploring. What do you think is better?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t go after the starting point, it’s a desert and I heard someone say that his teammates died of thirst.”

“Awful” Ona says, shivering.

If she can choose her death, she would rather it being during a fight or something. Dying from thirst or hunger must be really terrible. It made her think that she needs to fill her water again.

Teagan and Ona decided to wait until dusk before getting out of the tree, still looking around to be sure not to be bitten again.

“Did you make friends during training?” Teagan asks, when they are walking to the river.

“Friends? Not really…” Ona answers, her thoughts going to Lucy once again. “I mean, I liked Anna from the 9…”

“I saw you talking to Lucy Bronze several times too”

“When?” Ona frowns.

They haven’t talked a lot during training sessions, so she’s curious about the answer. Teagan smirks and shrugs before answering.

“In the hallways. I always found her intimidating” he admits.

“I’m sure she would love to hear that” Ona chuckles while they arrive at the river.

She then puts a finger on her lips, asking Teagan to be quiet. She remembers perfectly that Declan said that they were on the other side of the river, which means they could be everywhere. She would love to see Lucy again, but not with the risk of being killed.

Ona was filling her bottle, and Teagan was washing his hands when they heard the music announcing the deaths dashboard. Still with white pictures of the dead tributes. It’s still strange for Ona to think that those people are dead, killed by the ones still around her.

“Only two deaths” Teagan whispers. “How many people are still alive?”

Ona sits on a rock, trying to think.

“Well, us two. Tony, which makes three and the boy hunting you. And the six people of the career’s districts. I think the girls from the 12 and the 7 are still alive?”

“It makes 12 people, and we were 24 at first”

Ona nods softly. Deciding not to stay without doing anything, she starts to look around to find some fruit or something to eat. Teagan helps her, never too far from her. Ona is almost sure that he’s scared of the dark, but she decides not to tease him with that. Maybe she should reconsider her strategy and start to do her things in the daylight.

“Are those strawberries?” Teagan asks in disbelief.

Ona frowns, coming closer to have a look. She had strawberries in the Capitol for dessert from time to time. But those look a little bit smaller and different.

“I’m not sure” Ona answers. “Maybe we –“

She stops talking as soon as she hears it, but it’s too late. Someone is walking to them or running maybe. Teagan has heard them too considering his frightened face. Ona still takes Teagan to help him climb a tree, pushing his feet with both hands.

But it’s too late for her, she just has time to turn around to face the boy who was running after Teagan yesterday.

“Oh. Hi” he smirks. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one” Ona answers, standing a little straighter.

The boy arches an eyebrow and comes closer. That’s when Ona realizes that he’s holding a bloody knife. No doubt he already served. He keeps talking, but Ona doesn’t listen. She tries to think fast, asking herself what Alexia would do in this situation. She can run, she’s fast. But she knows that the boy is fast too. And strong.

She still can try to fight back, but it would probably be a very uneven fight.

Understanding that Ona isn’t listening to him anymore, the boy’s face changes and he jumps on her, taking her by surprise. Ona manages to avoid him with extreme accuracy, her reflexes still good despite the lack of sleep and food.

Ona realizes quickly that he might be stronger, but he’s slower than her. She learned during training not to be on the ground during a fight, but it looks like to her that jumping on his legs is a pretty good thing to try.

So, Ona tries, pushing with all the strength she has in her legs. It does work, the boy falls on the ground but still kicks Ona right in the face with his boots. The pain is immediate and strong, but Ona still manages to stand up. She wobbles a little, but her blurred vision allows her to realize that her opponent is trying to get back on his feet too. He seems mad with rage.

“You’re so dead” he spits.

Just when he takes a step in her direction, a noise above their head stops both of them. Ona just has the time to look up to see a big branch falling from the tree. Right on the boy’s head.

This has the merit of knocking him out half. He is lying on the ground, the branch next to him. Ona knows what to do, but it’s not easy. Her hands tremble when she grabs the branch, but her blows are sharp and precise, destined to leave no chance for the other boy. She knows she succeeded when she hears the sound of the cannon.

“Ona?”

The brunette raises her head, spotting Teagan sitting on another branch of the tree, just next to the one who fell before.

“Nice one, Kiddo” Ona says almost tiredly.

She feels… Empty. Throwing the branch a little further, she turns to the bag and the things that belonged to the boy. Next to her, Teagan jumps from the last branch, coming to have a look too.

Ona opens the bag and gets out the things that are in there. Another bottle, the knife obviously, bandages, a small landing net and a bowl. After having split the things in two, they both take a bag. Teagan insists that Ona takes the big knife.

“You should probably wash your wound, it looks painful” Teagan says.

Ona sighs but nods, getting closer to the river once again. She can’t see her face, but her left cheek is painful. She appreciates the feeling of something fresh against her face, but the pain is still here when she stands up again.

“You probably will have a black eye” Teagan informs her.

She shrugs, deciding not to pay attention to it. If this had been in everyday life, it would have probably changed. But here, she doesn’t care a bit. There’s worse. Their small chance of survival, for example.

“Should we go back to the forest?” Teagan asks.

Ona hesitates, biting her lips softly. She thought that she was safer in the forest, but she was wrong.

“Maybe we can go to the city. It might have houses a little bit more hidden than the big building I chose last time.”

With that, they start walking to go to the city. The walk seems longer to Ona, maybe because it’s during the night. Or maybe it’s because she’s still shocked by what happened. She knew that she would have to fight at some point, but Ona had not prepared herself psychologically for the feeling of killing. Despite her, his thoughts are with the family of this boy, people who loved him.

This time, they are coming from the other side and Ona sees small houses on a little hill. Which is perfect to see someone coming, if she doesn’t fall asleep of course. She wonders if she could fall asleep if she lays down somewhere. Probably.

They walk in silence and after having looked around to be sure that they were alone, Ona and Teagan chose a small light blue house. The windows are almost all closed with wooden panels, but some holes inside allow them to be able to observe around.

The sun is lighting the sky when Teagan calls her, standing in front of the windows.

“Look at the lake” he points.

Ona looks and frowns. There is effectively a lake here, one she hasn’t seen when she was in the city before. But what is strange is that the water is glowing.

“We’ll avoid going to go swimming there, I think” Ona smiles softly before turning in Tegan’s direction. “You must sleep a little. I’ll keep an eye on the area during this time.”

Teagan doesn’t wait before accepting Ona’s offer. He finds a spot on the wooden floor and lies on the blanket they have recovered from their adventures. In two minutes, he is out of the world and Ona can only see once again how young he is.

Ona sighs softly and sits on a cupboard, offering her a view around them. Everything seems so calm and peaceful, as if they aren’t in the middle of an arena. She froze suddenly when she heard something, like a wolf’s cry. But even if she looks everywhere, she can’t find anything.

Her thoughts go to Lucy again and she can’t help but wonder where she is right now. None of her teammates are dead for now and it looks like they are sticking together for now. Is she still on the other side of the river? If Ona was alone, maybe she would try to find her. Just to see her one last time before something bad happened to her. Ona knows she can’t win here, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to try. And she won’t give up either.

Her hand is stroking Jana’s pendant once again. She feels sad not to be able to talk to Lucy. She would like to talk to her about her dream with Jana, because even if it was a dream, Ona has the impression that it’s exactly what Jana would have said.

And to be honest, Ona wasn’t expecting that missing Lucy would be the hardest point of all this game.

Just when she wanted to look around the house a little more, she sees a little group of people walking in the direction of the lake. Frowning, she come closer to the window, trying to see who it is. It’s not Lucy, she knows it. But it looks like to her that it’s Declan with one of the twins and the girl Lucy wanted to kill when they were in the building the other day.

“What are they doing here?” she mumbles, coming closer.

Being careful not to be seen, Ona comes as close as possible to the windows. Now, the lake seems normal, it’s not glowing anymore. Ona frowns softly when she realizes that. Teagan wakes up while the trio is looking at the lake, talking and gesturing around.

Until both girls suddenly come closer to Declan while he’s looking at something on the shores of the lake. They push the poor boy, not giving him any chance to escape a fall in the lake.

An awful scream is heard just before silence. And the cannon.

“Did they… Did they just kill him?” Teagan mumbles, eyes wide.

Ona passes her tongue nervously on her lower lip before answering.

“It looks like it”

She’s scared. Not of those two girls, but she’s scared for Lucy. If they aren’t scared of killing Declan like this, what can they do to Lucy? She feels her head sting at the idea of something bad happening to the girl she loves.

“Wait, what is this?” Ona frowns.

There is something coming from the lake, like a fog floating in the air. It’s pale yellow and it looks like the girls saw it too. She hears Lilith screaming when the fog hits her, and that scream raises Ona’s hair on her head.

They take their bags and run outside, leaving as fast as possible. Looks like she always returns to the woods, Ona thinks. She grabs Teagan’s hand to make him run faster. When she turns around, she realizes that the city is now completely inside the yellow fog, and it makes her shiver.

They never heard about something like this during the trainings or the survival courses. Or at least Ona can’t remember it.

“What was that?” Teagan asks, out of breath, when they finally stop their run.

“I don’t know” Ona answers.

She opens her bag to grab her bottle of water and drink, relieved that they chose the river to have some water and not the lake.

“It looked like chemical smoke or something” Teagan mumbles.

“Yeah”

Scary as hell. She froze suddenly when she hears the cannon once again, looking around her as if she would have the name of the person who just died. But she knows she won’t, she will have to wait tonight. Was it Lucy? Can they betray her too?

“What are we doing now?” Teagan asks.

Ona thinks for some seconds, biting her lips. She wants to find Lucy now more than ever, but she knows it’s probably taking Teagan right to the death with her.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to go there” she says, pointing to an area where she never went before. “I think I heard wolves from here.”

“Maybe” Teagan mumbles. “There is snow there”

Ona shivers at the idea. She has never seen snow before, but she’s not sure that she wants to see some in those conditions.

“First, I think we need to find out if the smog is still moving forward or not” Ona decides. “Then we will see.”

When Teagan nods, Ona helps him to go in one tree while she climbs another one. She goes as high as possible, wanting to have the best view possible. Ona needs several minutes to be high enough and have an open view. She can see the fog, but it seems still next to the city. She waits a little bit though, just to be sure.

“It’s okay, it’s not moving anymore” she says to Teagan when she reaches his high again.

The boy seems relieved about this information. Maybe they should go hiding somewhere else, but for once, Ona is tired. Mentally and physically. She doesn’t know where Lucy is, whether she’s safe or if she’s in danger.

“Who do you think will win the Games?”

Ona frowns at Teagan’s question. It’s a good one to be honest. It’s easier to answer now that a lot of them are already dead.

“I think… Lucy Bronze could be a good winner” Ona says slowly. “I mean, her brother already won and she’s strong”

“I would rather for her to win. Not Seth or someone else”

Ona nods only. If she could choose someone to win, she would choose Lucy, of course. While they were talking, Ona hears the same noise she heard the first day, when she was inside the building. Knowing what it is, she looks around to find the small metal box, smiling when she spots it.

When she opens it, she finds a small glass container.

“The message says it’s for your injury on your face” Teagan reads.

Ona looks at it and realizes that it isn’t the same handwriting as that day. The message isn’t from Alexia, which means that some sponsor made the choice to send her something to help her heal her injury.

Opening the container carefully, she finds an orange cream, smelling pretty good to be honest. She uses the mirror inside the box to put the cream at the right place. She grimaces when she sees her face. The cut seems deep, and her eye is swollen. The cream is cold, which alone is really appreciative.

Minutes after, they hear the song announcing the pictures of dead tributes. She frowns when she sees that Lilith is dead, apparently the fog was murderous. But that means that Lucy is still alive, and Ona can breathe again. Declan and Teagan’s chaser are also shown.

“So, still 9 people alive” Teagan breathes. “The two from the 1, Seth, Lucy, us, the girl from the 7 and the one from the 12. Do you think they are together?”

“I hope for them” Ona sighs. “Being alone must be terrifying.”

“Yeah… About that, I wanted to th –“ Teagan begins.

“Don’t’” Ona shakes her head. “No need to thank me. Plus, you saved my life earlier too. We are okay.”

It seems to reassure Teagan, who smiles proudly. It makes Ona smile back and the girl realizes that she hasn’t smiled a lot in this arena. Which is probably normal, though.

“So we’re teammates?” the young boy asks.

“We are” she smirks, before raising her fist for him to punch it.

Then they fall into silence, Ona closing her eyes for some seconds to try to rest a little. Her face hurts and she’s trying very hard not to touch her eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” Teagan asks, several minutes after.

Ona hums for only an answer, not opening her eyes for now. She doesn’t know why, but she has the feeling that the question has been in the boy’s mind for some time now.

“Why aren’t you fighting with Tony? I mean he’s strong and from what I heard; he was one of your brother’s friends? When you saved me the other day, I was waiting for you to tell me that you want to find him or something.”

Ona opens her eyes softly and looks at the boy, thinking of the best way to answer this question. She knows that now they are not as much as the beginning, there are a lot of risks that they are filmed. And she doesn’t want to make any problem for her family if Tony’s family sees this. Or Tony himself, if he wins this.

“I think we don't have the same view of things. It was obvious during the training already. He didn’t want to take our mentor’s opinions and advice. I did and I still do. Alexia told me to run away at the beginning and gave me some advice about how to survive in this based on my strengths. It worked pretty well for now. Plus, seeing we were separated at the beginning of the Games and our paths never crossed, I think it’s just fate.”

He nods thoughtfully, seeming to think about what Ona just answered him. She doesn’t want to say that she hates his behavior and that she’s still mad about the fact that he deprived her to spend more nights with Lucy to look at the stars.

“I’m glad. We would probably never have been teammates otherwise.”

“I’m glad too in that case” Ona grins.

Next Chapter

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #lucy bronze #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy and ona #lucy bronze x ona batlle

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drafthorsemath · 7 months ago

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Brotherly Love

Synopsis: Crosshair can't sleep and Tech appears to him as a force ghost. Lots of comfort.

A/N: I need some kind of conclusion for my brain. Whether you accept the finale and that Tech is dead, I think I need to get this out of my system to grieve.

Word Count: 846

It was nearly pitchblack in the bedroom, save for a sliver of a moonbeam shining through the window. Pabu was quiet this time of night and usually Crosshair found comfort in that. Tonight though, he was struck by sadness. He thought of Tech and the nights they'd spend together as cadets. Crosshair's eyes would hurt from the bright lights on Kamino after long days of training. Tech would turn off the lights, get into bed with him, and read to him. Crosshair smiled as he thought about all the different things Tech read. History, science, even the occasional holonovel. He would always find comfort laying next to his brother and hearing his voice. He wished he could hear him again now.

Crosshair sat up in bed and sighed as he looked out the window. He could swear he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder; steady and comforting as it always was. He sniffled and leaned into the sensation, only to realize that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

"Tech?!" Crosshair jumped up and turned to see a kind of blue light around what he could have swore was his brother. "What the kriff?!"

"Yes," Tech replied, examining his glowing limbs with curiosity. "I could ask the same thing."

Crosshair reached out to try to touch him. He felt a presence and yet could see through him.

"Is it really you?" Crosshair asked.

"Of course it's really me," Tech replied with an eye roll.

"How are you doing this?" Crosshair asked.

"I am unsure," came the honest answer. "However, matter is never created nor destroyed. It simply changes form. For whatever reason, this is the form I am currently taking."

Crosshair sat back down and without warning, sharply inhaled and let out a sob. Tech put his hand back on his brother's shoulder.

"I've missed you," Crosshair said, trying to compose himself.

"I'm still here," Tech said. "I've always thought of you before I fell and I've been with you since. I cannot fully explain the latter part."

"This is the first time I've seen you like this, though," Crosshair noted.

Tech nodded. They sat in silence for several minutes. Crosshair somehow understood now. All those times he felt like Tech was with him and he tried to suppress the feeling for fear it wasn't true when in reality, his brother had never left him.

"Tech?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Crosshair looked into his brother's familiar eyes and couldn't help but let a tear slip despite his best efforts. "I'm sorry I didn't leave the Empire sooner. I missed out on time with you. I should have done better."

Tech shook his head and pulled Crosshair into a hug.

"I am just glad you came home," Tech said. Both men felt relief. Relief that there were no hard feelings between them and that they cared for each other as they always had.

After awhile longer, Tech asked, "Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

"I don't want to wake up and find you're not here."

"I'll still be here, Crosshair. Even if you can't see me and I promise I'll do my best to show up so you can. There has to be some interesting science behind this and now I have an infinite amount of time to try to figure it out."

Crosshair chuckled. That was so like him. Then, even though Tech had changed form, Crosshair could sense his brother had a question as easily as if they'd both been there in the flesh.

"What is it?" Crosshair asked.

"Are you going to get a prosthetic for your hand?"

"I'm not sure yet. I still have my left hand and Echo's given me some tips on getting by."

"If you do get a prosthesis I would be happy to help you optimize its utility."

"Can you even hold a spanner?" Crosshair asked dryly.

"I'm sitting on your bed and just gave you a hug. If I can do that, I do not see why I cannot use tools to fix something."

"Fair point," Crosshair replied with a grin. "I'll let you know."

Without a word, Crosshair and Tech both laid down as they had done when they were cadets. Instead of reading, they talked about their brothers and Omega. How much time it took them to truly relax on Pabu after the intensity of all that had happened. How Omega was growing, having something of a childhood, and how her piloting skills were improving all the time. They were both filled with pride in her.

It took awhile, but Crosshair finally let himself sleep, still feeling his brother right next to him. When he woke up in the morning, he startled a bit. He couldn't see Tech anymore. His eyes searched his room, but Tech was no where to be found. Had it been a dream? Was his brain taunting him? Just as he wanted to curse these mind games, he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder again and took a deep breath. Tech was still there. Crosshair would never have to be alone again.

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #crosshair #tech #force ghost tech #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #brotherly love

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kirihoon · 1 year ago

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READER WHO CRIES WHEN THEY'RE NOT TAKEN SERIOUSLY like katsuki chuckling at reader getting annoyed/upset at something he did and they cryyy 🥺

This is my first ask! omg, so exciting. I'll try my best.

Bakugou Katsuki laughing at you.

You've had an awful day. In fact, you've been having a lot of awful days lately. You just got a job after years of working your ass off at uni. You were so excited. It's your first job! Your first step into the real world! Yeah, you really set yourself up for disappointment.

Since you were new, no one cared for what you had to say. They would dismiss you or act like you didn't exist. Who cares about your opinion on the project? Who would give a shit about your ideas for improvement? Just go get us some coffee, newbie.

You were heartbroken to say the least. It's been about a month of this and you were running out of optimism. You kept looking for silver linings when they finally turned gray.

As you enter the apartment you share with your boyfriend, you sigh. Taking off your shoes and sitting at the coffee table. You open your laptop and look at the new design for the building that your team was trying to get approved.

Despite the shit you go through, you can't help but love your job. You've always had a passion for architecture and design. You could envision it in your eyes and the endless ideas float in your mind.

"Hey, brat, you seem busy." you don't even notice Katsuki enter the apartment. He stands there in casual clothes with hair slightly wet. He probably showered at the agency.

"Hi, Kats. It's just stuff for work." You try to say nonchalantly but the stress of work was weighing down on you. You haven't told Katsuki any of this because he was so proud of you for getting the job! You can't disappoint him!

"Yeah? Are you okay? You seem down." you sigh and muster up a smile.

"Of course I am, honey." You could see that he definitely does not believe it. He can read you too well. You look at him with pleading eyes and he takes the hint. Dropping the subject.

He sits by you and looks at your laptop, "What's that?"

You know what he's trying to do and you appreciate it. He knows how much you love to talk about what you do, it never fails to put a smile on your face.

"Oh! Let me tell you all about it!" You start talking about the project and there's a sparkle in your eyes as you recount all the ideas you have.

Suddenly, you hear it. Laughing. Katsuki's laughing. Directed at you.

Your heart breaks and you stop talking. Afraid your voice will crack if you do. You're frozen in your spot as your heart races and the world starts to cave in. You have a flashback to your coworkers. All of them laughing at you trying to give your ideas and present your work.

Tears well up in your eyes and your lip quivers. You can't even bother looking at him. Nobody takes you seriously. Not even him.

Were your ideas really that shitty? Shitty enough that even your boyfriend finds it laughable?

You close your laptop and abruptly stand up. You run to the bathroom still clutching your laptop to your chest. You lock it and crouch down to sob some more.

"Y/N! Baby, what's going on? What's the matter?" You hear Katsuki's shaky voice. He's panicking. You know he is. But you sob even more.

Katsuki follows you. Now there's only a door separating you.

"Baby, please, tell me what's going on. Are you hurt?" he starts asking a lot of questions. Questions that you don't have it in you to answer yet.

"Damn it, Y/n! Open the door! Please!" despite your on-going breakdown, you still appreciate Katsuki's patience. You know what he really wants to do is to blast the door away. He's had a lot of growth since you two started dating. Both of you have. You try to calm down as you recall that one of the things that made your relationship as strong as it is today is the promise of communication.

"J-just. Give me.. please, uh give me some time?" you stutter out in between sobs. Meanwhile, Katsuki sighs. There still panic in his eyes and deep worry etched on his face but at least you responded.

"Okay, I'm right out here." he sat down leaning his back against the door. He thinks about what could possible have happened.

After almost a half hour, you emerge. Katsuki is quick to stand and look at you, scanning if there are any physical injuries. He's just about to ask you again if you're okay but he's frozen. His heart aches at the redness of your puffy eyes and tear streaks down your face.

You both stand in silence. Him due to concern meanwhile you due to shame. Shame of your sudden outburst. Shame of your ideas. Shame of your shitty job. and finally, shame that even your boyfriend doesn't seem to think you're capable.

He's a hero for fuck's sake, he saves people for a living. You can't even do your office job right and here you are throwing a tantrum.

You can't help the shakiness of your voice as you finally break the deafening silence. "Do you- do.." you take a moment to try to compose yourself. "Are my ideas really that pathetic?". You look at him as tears reappear in your eyes.

Katsuki looks at you confused, he tilts his head and his eyebrows scrunch. "What?" He's wiping away the tears before he can even think about it. He caresses your cheeks as he steps closer. "What are you saying, baby? What's wrong?"

You look down and lean away from his hands. "You- you laughed. Why?" A million thoughts race in your mind. Did he finally see that you're not competent enough for a hero like him? Is he gonna break up with you? Maybe your coworkers were right about you.

Now, Katsuki's even more confused, trying to recall when he laughed. Finally he recalls the moment right before you stormed off. His gaze softens and he takes your hand in his.

"Honey, no, I wasn't laughing." Your sadness turns into anger at his words. "You're lying! I heard you! You can't gaslight your way out of this. If you have something to say, just say it!" You were shaking at this points. You didn't actually mean it. In fact, you didn't want to hear what he had to say. You weren't sure you could handle it.

"I chuckled." Now it's your turn to look confused. "Yeah, that's the fucking issue, Katsuki."

"No, no, you don't understand. I didn't laugh, i chuckled. Heck, it was even closer to a giggle." You looked at him as if he was talking nonsense. and in your mind, it really didn't make any sense.

"You were so excited, talking about your project. I always love it when you do. You're so damn passionate and determined - it's one of the reasons I liked you in the first place. You were different from the other extras." you can't stop the hint of a smile that appears on your lips which he immediately notices. He visibly relaxes a bit and smirks.

The smirk changes into a smile as he says the following "I was so proud. You were adorable as you work on your dream job. I couldn't help but smile. Apparently not only smile but also chuckle."

"Honey, I wasn't making fun of you. I promise."

Your anger dissipates and your sadness reemerges. Tears stream down your face as you hug Katsuki. You sob while venting about work, and how you feel, the imposter syndrome, just everything. He listens and rocks you back and forth trying to soothe you. He kissed the top of your head. He's never been good with words, so he does what he can do to show that he's here for you. His first instinct was actually to get mad at your coworkers and boss, but he knows now is not the time. His baby needs him. He carries you bridal style to your bedroom as you continue to cry and recount your shitty month. He orders some food and puts on your favorite movie and he hugs and kisses you, offering you a few encouraging words.

Weeks later he tells you to quit your job. He pulled some strings and now you're working on a brand new building. All from scratch. An amazing and high-tech building for the newly formed DynaRiot Agency. You both celebrate and you go to work as soon as you can. After all, DynaMight only settles for the best.

yeah, idk anything abt architecture, im sorry. not proofread. umm, hope you like it! im not rly good with the comfort thing so this is the best i could do haha. weird ending i know.

#i rly like kats calling me honey #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha headcannons #bakugou angst #bnha angst

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threepandas · 7 days ago

Text

Counting Down: 3 [<-Prev][]

My eyes were getting worse. There was nothing the healers could really do. Because, ultimately? There was nothing actually wrong, with my eyes. They were working exactly as nature intended. Exactly as my genetics designed. It was just... badly designed. Poorly suited, unfortunate perhaps, ill optimized in every way, for my environment.

If I had been living alone? Or in a sparsely populated, low growth environment? Subterraneanly? Well, THEN my eyes would have been perfect. Perhaps a bit on the over sensitive side, but otherwise perfect. I would have been a Sage. Elevated to Pathfinder, for my ability to safely lead my tribe through the dark.

But here? On Coruscant? Amongst the constant flow of billions? It is AGONY. A disability of the worst sort. Like two ice picks, slamming light and information into my brain. At the rate I am developing...

At... At the rate I am developing?

I may eventually be as good as BLIND. Be forced to wear a glorifed blindfold. And... and when THAT, inevitably fails? As it WILL fail? There have been... been somber, serious, terrifying talks? On if I wish to first try removing myself to a remote Temple for seclusion (and risk the lack of medical care that comes with it.) or if? O-or if?

Medically, it would be better to just... replace my eyes.

T-They can't even guarantee? That it would work. There are species that see through the Force. My problem may BE that I am somehow one of them and simply not physically built for it. That I developed the needed mutation. I... I could lose my eyes for NOTHING.

Yet...?

The headaches. The LIGHT. I can not take missions anymore. Can not even help in the Crèches. Their unfiltered, unshielded Force presences? Are like staring into search lights. I can not even help with Initiate classes, having grown too fucking sensitive! How will I EVER find a Padawan?!

I... I wanted one. Someone to guide and teach. Someone to watch grow.

Maybe that grief, (that I might never have one, that I KNOW he can do better,) is what makes me so short with Qui-gon. Obi-Wan is a youngling, damn it! Not a crutch for you mental health! Something which? Of course leads me to chasing Yan's Padawan down. REPEATEDLY. (Stop running! Boy! I KNOW YOU CAN SEE ME, QUI-GON! You better STOP RUNNING!! Listen to your Aunty while she SCOLDS YOU!) Because SOMEONE needs to beat that into the stubborn, heart sick, fool's head!

Why not me? I'm stuck on medical leave! Possibly FOREVER.

(Have a treat, Obi-Wan. You're too skinny.)

It's not productive. I KNOW it's not productive. The harder I push, the more Qui-gon digs his heels in. Yan's old Padawan was many things, but weak willed? Even in the depth of his grief? Hardly one of them. The whole LINEAGE was stubbornness made manifest. Literal STONES we more agreeable and subject to change.

I just wished Padawan Kenobi wasn't the one paying for it.

So, I helped. Without judgment. No harrasing him about his weight or his injuries, no demands he explain this or that. Just... there, if he's ready. If he trusts me. Bacta and pain relief, a safe place to sleep, someone to guide a peaceful meditation. And of course, Food. Ration bars by the basket. Take and hoard as many as you need. Here, both rich and mild foods to choose from.

Hugs and safety, I could do that. Be that. Put my emotions aside, for the sake of a child. Did his mere presence hurt? Yes. A LOT. But I would sooner die then let him know that. Bright and beautiful as his soul was, young and growing as he is? There is no pain, that is merely the confusion of crude matter. I am FINE. This... is FINE.

(Dispite the drugs, the meditation, it still HURTS.)

Neither Yan or Sifo like it. In fact, Yan is? Both in turns, heart sick and furious. His old Padawan entirely too good at dodging him. Dispite Yan being on the HIGH COUNCIL. Dispite BOTH Yan and Sifo, being on the High Council. It's genuinely impressive. Alarming, yes, that he uses such skill to avoid any attempts at therapy... but, well....

I've SEEN what the Mind Healers here consider a job "well done", with Sifo. Their definition of "help". So... granted, I understand completely. But he could just as easily take his Padawan on a "healing retreat"! Sneak away to get ACTUAL help from one of the other Sects! Illum perhaps? The Whills?

He KNOWS I'm right. It's why he's avoiding me.

(The little SHIT.)

Breathing in filtered, earth rich air, I tried to breathe out my stress. The Thousand Gardens do not just extend upwards. They went down as well. And they will continue to go upwards if ever another Temple is built upon the current one. Just like the last gardens, in which I sit, the light requiring plants that can be moved will be brought upwards. Those that can't? Get solar lamp systems.

Tiny biodomes, here in the dark. We do not kill our ancient trees, after all. Our plant and gardens. They are precious heirlooms. Living, breathing, friends. And besides? In the places they abandon, for the light up above? NEW gardens can be made! Subterranean ones. Glowing lichen and mushrooms, cave shrubs and parasitic low light trees.

It is peaceful, down here. Glowing plant life and distant lamps, like so many stars in the dark. The sound of running water and quite murmurs of the few who prefer such low light meditations. There are more then a few knights napping, having found gardens that speak to them. Their various light sensitive visual organs, finally having found relief.

Somewhere above me, Sifo is pacing. Erratic. Another vision of death and despair, of clones marching upon us all. It is getting to him. Like the slow eroding of a cliff face. Death by a thousand cuts. Over and over and OVER. Despair. Won't you do something? DESPAIR. Don't you CARE? DESPAIR. I can offer the power to FIX things. Don't you want it? Don't you WANT it~??

The Dark Side is a cruel and insidious thing. A riptide. An undertow, which drags you out to sea, then drowns you. It offers sweetness, safety, freedom. Only to deliver oblivion and pain. Power without control, it corrodes you. Destroys all that you were. Giving voice to your worst impulses, silencing your better nature.

You become a mockery of yourself.

I... I am scared for him. For Yan. I can see the outline of their ends, beginning to line up before them. They are pulling away. Growing frustrated. Their discussions with me are growing less philosophical difference with the Order, and more... dangerously immoral. Heretical. Nothing actionable, of course, but... I wouldn't expect their to be.

Both are High Councilors. They, of all people, know how to toe the line.

What do I DO? I ask the Force. Meditation after meditation, seeking guidance. How can I help them? And yet... I get no reply. No insight. Only nudges towards Obi-Wan. Towards teaching and compassion. Slipping him lessons on how to help slaves cope with the trauma. Philosophical debates on the doctrine of attachments. And, of course? Showing him my completely personal project, that HE will in no way someday need, of creating lesson plans for my hypothetical future Padawn.

How VERY thoughtful of him! To help me get some of those data pads! To help me research and revise my plans. He'll make a great mentor one day~ Amused? Me? No, no, dear. I was just thinking of a funny joke. Have ever given thought to Form Three?

Also! Never trust the Senate intelligence, dear. They are full of shit and couldn't spot a slaver if the sale was happening right in front of them. Do your own research whenever possible and NEVER rush in. NEVER.

(Yan refused to rush the assignment. Was in the Process of contacting the Armorer of Little Keldab for information. A Team was sent behind his back. On the word of the Senate alone. They almost completely DIED and the rightful Ruler of the Mandalorian people? Enslaved. Force knows where. Are you HAPPY now? Was rushing WORTH it? Your "regrets" mean NOTHING to the dead.)

It's building. I can feel it. The darkness is growing, my friends drifting farther and farther from the light. All, while? I am stuck. Disabled by my eyes. By the pain my so call "blessing" gives me.

Giving up on another useless meditation, I rise. Head for the lifts. The hallways down here are... quite. The old temple towers a peace place. Filled with the ancient echos of long dead Masters. There are room down here. Apartments. They are unassigned, yes, but no one truely cares if they are used. Granted, I would have to dust them myself.

I consider it. The light, (or really, the lack there off) is much more comfortable down here. The quite, less stressful. If Sifo didn't have such traumatic associations with darkness? I would honestly suggest moving down here with me. It might do us both some good.

As the lift rises, I tap the side of my lenses. Momentarily blinding myself in preparation for the increasing light. Soon enough, vision returns. The cacophonous press of noise. Oh dear, it's mid-meal. I should have waited. No wonder it's so loud and bright. Gritting my teeth, I keep my expression calm and pleasant. My shoulders relaxed.

It is not the younglings fault, that it hurts to be near them. They should NOT have to carry that guilt nor knowledge. I walk calmly but swiftly. This is fine. This Is Fine. Ow, ow, ow, OW, OW! This Is Fine!

Relief. I get passed them. The healers are right. Damn it. It really IS not just my eyes that are growing more sensitive. I... I so badly wanted them to be wrong. But as days go by? As weeks pass? Everything has slowly gotten... gotten so LOUD. Sharp and shrill, grating and rumbling, barks and squeals. Just? Just ALL of it. Too much.

Loud.

At the rate i'm going? I'm going to end up in a Force damned helmet like some sort of Mandalorian! And... and yes, I know there is no shame in that. That each race has their own specific needs. That it is humanist to think certain traits are somehow BETTER then others. I just... just feel like I am slowly losing myself. My freedom.

I am scared.

My body feels like it's betraying me.

Somewhere, near the High Council's chambers, I can feel Yan seething. How long has it been? Since the three of us coexisted in simple peace? Before Sifo's accident? Their appointments to the Council? Or was it as recent as Xanatos and the disaster of his Fall? How... How long have I been a pillar? For the mental and spiritual strength of others?

It's grinding me to dust. I'm so tired. Just... just want to rest. For just a moment. Without the fear, that my moments weakness? Will condemn a good man. Will irreversibly harm, a growing child. I.. Force, I am so tired.

Sifo is waiting for me, in my apartments. My plan for a moments rest? A fleeting, impossible, dream. He is pacing, pacing, pacing. Lines of tension and darting eyes. Hands clenching and unclenching. Running through his already ruined hairdo, again and again. It was easy to see what someone might think him mad. He certainly looked it.

"I saw them again. Bastards! I don't-! What am I doing wrong?!" He gasped the second he laid eyes on me. Already ranting before the door even closed. "I vow not to step foot on Kamino? They still appear. Avoid Mandalorians? Still! They exsist! But, oh! What if I plan Temple defenses? Surely THEN, right?! No! They somehow get passed them! Is it me? Am I the problem!?"

"TELL ME!"

He spun, eyes wide and manic, arms spread. As though inviting a blow. Inviting his own destruction. Hair falling from his careful hairdo in mad whisps, clothes disheveled, hands faintly trembling... he did not look well. Looked near tears. Teetering on the edge of something ugly.

How long could he hold out? I wondered.

I didn't have a comforting answer for him. No sweet and gentle words. But I could offer a hug. A hand to hold, as he faced down the dark. Sometimes... sometimes there WAS no right answer, Sifo. Sometimes the pieces were all on the board yet. Or the very act of try to stop Fate, made it so. I don't know. Can't know. Neither of us can.

But I can be there WITH you, until the end. And we can do our best.

Have you eaten yet? Had any tea? When was the last time you slept? Terrible things do not become easier to bear, if you burn yourself up, trying to face them. You have to take care of yourself too. I stepped forward, into that desperate stance, and pulled him into my arms.

"You believe me. You BELIEVE me. It's just inevitabe, too you, isnt it? That's what your trying not to say, isn't it? That you've run out of options. " Sifo's arms wrapped around me in a desperate grip. Like a drowning man holding onto the only life raft at sea.

"You're just afraid. Don't want me to break myself, destroy myself, chasing something that can't happen. Because we're Jedi, and you know we have to try. Try and try and TRY! Until it destroys us. Destroys everything. Hoping against all hope that they'll just... just LISTEN! But they WON'T, will they? They won't listen. It's inevitable. A cleansing. Purging of the old, to give rise to something new. The will of the Force itself."

Cleansing? Purging?! Alarm bells started to ring in my head. Nothing good came of talks of "cleansings" or "purgings" of ANYTHING.. NOTHING. I opened my mouth to refute him. Never got the chance. Yan's Force presence slammed into ours. The equivalent of crashing open doors and stomping feet.

Startled and alarmed, I turned just in time to see him sweep into my apartment like a raging, high society, storm cloud. The expression on his face could peel paint.

"Apparently," he snarled, barely holding together. "my Grand-Padawan has SUPPOSEDLY left the Order! Despite showing no prior interest in doing so, sending no missives to friends or fellow Creche-mates, and? Of course? Let us not forget? SUPPOSEDLY doing so? For some TART in the midst of an ACTIVE WARZONE!"

Horrified, I felt the blood drain from my face. No. NO! I thought I had more TIME! Please! Dear FORCE! Tell me, Qui-gon did not LEAVE his Padawan on-!

"Oh yes! CLEARLY, this is but a childish desire to wet his-!" Yan visibly struggled to beat back the surge of incoherent WRATH and fear. The disappointment. They HORROR at a child, in such unimaginable danger. "The Council won't even HEAR that there could be anything amiss! Won't even CHECK. A supposed WASTE of RESOURCES, when already we are stretched too thin! A CHILD, potentially ABANDONED in a WARZONE! And they-!? THEY-!?"

My mind races as I pull away from Sifo's grip to face Yan. The Order won't authorize use of their ships to go check. But... But? Are we not Jedi? We serve the Force. Our mission is to PROTECT. Minimize suffering, bring Light to the universe. Take a sabbatical! NOW! In fact? We ALL will. It will be GOOD for me, to be away from Coruscant's crowded population.

Call your Family, Yan. We need a Serranian Ship. Ask if we can borrow the Senator's, since it's on planet. We aren't slaves. They can't stop us, if we simple decide to GO. Punish us? Perhaps. But not STOP us.

An almost roguish grin settles poorly, under the near manic glint in Yan's eyes. Too expressive. Too unhinged. He has never been anything but composed, he values it too highly. Sifo's answering grin is just as manic. Just as... slightly wrong. Too much. Fitting both too practiced and ill fitting on their faces.

Like they are feeding off each others madness... some part of me hisses in concern. A feedback loop, we aren't strong enough to stop.

I try to ignore it. Focus on the now. There is a child in danger. It's... it's fine. Probably. All I have to do, is keep them away from the Sith! They... they won't Fall. They WON'T.

R-Right?

Yet... watching them plan our trip? Calling in favors and gleefully plotting. Casually threatening. Feeding of each others energy, as they do. I... I am not so certain. Once again, that moment of dissonance strikes true. Like looking around and realizing I am an actor on the stage of a Tragedy, ready line after line, as we march onward to the inevitable End.

Attachments are going to condemn you. Seems to whisper the Force. Like chains that choke and squeeze.

I know, I whisper back. But I am foolish and still want to save them.

Please let me try.

Please.

Let me TRY.

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floret-affini-research · 1 month ago

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RESEARCH LOG 004

RESEARCHER M. Florez

Opening file...

I have now concluded my second day in this vessel. I have gathered much more information to where I am unsure what to do with. It appears that the Affini have a form of immortality called "blooming" where they are able to shed their current form and remove signs of aging and damage. It appears that as long as their "core" remains intact, they are functionally immortal. The affini known as Verdianthos Arum (who from now on shall be known as Ms. Verdi in my reports) seemed quite joyous to share this information with me. I wonder if perhaps she is a researcher like me, exploring the many wonders of the cosmos. I wonder if she'll allow me to accompany her on an expedi- That is besides the point. She was very helpful in giving me the information I asked for.

I have also learned very startling information that explains how these beings were able to defeat the Terrans so easily. It appears that the Affini are able to produce several toxins that can cause many effects in the human body, including increased sense of touch, unconsciousness, paralysis, hypnotic trance, and memory loss. These appear to be distributed both as a form of injection directly from and Affini's many vines or as a aerosol to cover a larger area. They also have strange eyes in thay they appear to give a hypnotic pulse when stared it. They seem to just pull you in without you quite realizing what has happened. While they are terrifyingly large creatures composed of living flora, even I must admit that she- they are fascinating to study.

As for the "floret", it appears to genuinely believe that it is being cared for the the best it can be. It has told me that it feels no hardship and that "everything will be alright with Mistress!" I still am uneasy of these Affini being seen as "owners" of terrans who are inundated with the toxins they produce. However, I cannot deny that the terran does appear to be joyous even without the toxins coursing in its' system. It informed me that it does not remember much about its' life before meeting Ms. Verdi Verdianthos Arum, only that it was "a biiiit of a trouble maker" I shall have to ask the affini more about the domestication progress when the day comes again. I can, at least, conclude so far that the terrans are indeed treated well and taken care of. I have tried the food they prepare it is a remarkable increase in quality from the rations I have been limiting myself to. However, I wil still limit myself primarily to food I can be certain has not been tampered with.

I will conclude today with a log of my current health to ensure I am able to provide at my upmost capacity. I will ensure to provide this for each following report.

Physical health: Optimal, no new concerns or conditions

Mental health: Below average, high levels of stress

Emotional health: Neutral, high levels of stress

Addendum: I know not why I included parts that appear to show a degree of respect for the Affini or why I have started using an abbreviated form of her name. It appears for some reason that I am unable to remove these parts from my report no matter how I try. I am growing worried that perhaps I too am beginning to turn or that perhaps I am being exposed with an aerosol of the toxins. I shall have to make sure I keep my guard up. May the starts protect me from her.

#human domestication guide #hdg #affini #relationship research

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cleargladiatorchild · 24 days ago

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Trump Won the Election. Let’s talk about it.

Now that the election is over and we know who won, I like many many others, am very scared. Yes, I did break down over it, yes it’s okay if you do to, but that will not change the outcome. You will still have to wake up in the morning and go to work or go to school, or do whatever you have doing. I’m not gonna sugar coat it, it’s gonna be a scary time for everybody, and we are likely gonna feel the effects of it for decades. Please, do not give up, this is the time if there ever was one to fight for your rights. Are we kinda screwed? Yeah. But will you as a person live to see tomorrow, will you live to see next week? Yes. So please, if you can help it, do not just tune out the political section of world, because this is the time to stay engaged and fight for yourself and for your people. The next 4 years are not going to be good. The next 8 years probably aren’t gonna be good. I as a trans gay man am particularly scared about future access to medical care and what that looks like for my transition goals, but it’s not just about me, it’s also about my fellow trans people and my fellow gay people, of course I am still not a part of plenty of other groups that will also be horrifically effected by the new administration and I’m worried about them, but worrying ourselves to death isn’t going to change anything. Please stay engaged or at least try to because this is gonna effect EVERYONE yes you too, and I understand that you probably understand that. This isn’t to explore what Trump is gonna do, but to hopefully inspire some optimism without being unrealistic, life will go on, no matter what happens life will go on, we as a human race are going to live.

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lady-of-endless · 1 year ago

Note

Helllloooo if requests are still open could I request reader taking care of RAMATTRA :3? There's alot of reader comfort out there but good gd this dude needs a nap.

Author's Note: Another request, I'm so happy! I agree with you 100%, let him get some rest. Thank you so much for requesting this ❤�� Hope you'll enjoy it

Taking care of Ramattra

Since he left the Shambali Monastery, Ramattra has become more of an overachiever. Humanity's continuous aggression towards omnics forced him to ignore his own needs just to work on plans, strategies, and new machines, all for a better future. He saw no problem with that but, he's not alone anymore, and you're worried for him.

When you propose taking a break for his own good, he simply replies with how he doesn't need it, changing the subject. Of course, he takes note of your worried expression from your face but does not want to bother explaining that you have no reason to be worried for him, at first.

"My system is running in optimal conditions. I do not require rest like humans do." He caved in and explained to you calmly, causing you to sigh in defeat. Even if you knew that it was true, it was his mind that needed rest more than his body. You understand that it will be complicated to get him to relax.

You noticed how he didn't even meditate the way he still used to even after leaving Shambali. It was a part of his routine but not anymore so it seemed. Instead of pointing it out, ask him if he can teach you how to do it. He will look at you over his shoulder in silence, pondering and analyzing your expression. It was his right to be suspicious as you never asked for this before. Right when you think he is going to refuse, the orb from his staff floats toward his right hand. "Follow me, and pay attention." He muttered. Somehow, this one trick to get him to rest went unnoticed.

Maybe you can try a straightforward approach as well. If he is working, walk to him, ask about what he's working on. As he talks, put a hand over his and gently pull him towards you by his hand. "And what is it you think you're doing?" He stops explaining and asks but still lets himself be guided by you. You tell him that you wish to read something to him and he refuses right away. This calls for desperate measures. "Just give it a chance. Like you did with me…" You say with a hopeful look in your eyes when looking at him. With that, consider it done. You knew that you got him with that one. "Fine, but it better not take long." He sighs in frustration as he lays down next to you.

In the first minutes, Ramattra just waits broodingly for this break to end. Gradually, as he listens to your voice and your breathing, he starts to lose track of time and forget about what he had to do later. He finds himself turning his body more towards yours, even maybe placing his head on your chest, hoping that you won't ask why.

That's the time he discovers another way of relaxing. It has even become his favorite. Laying his head on your chest, his sound sensor close to your heart. He is surprised by how pleasant the sound of it is. Listening to the steady beats makes him feel like every circuit from his body slows down and because he's alone with you, he allows it.

He cannot admit that he felt better afterward, but he surely won't let your thoughtful gesture pass without thanking you. "I am grateful for this moment of peace. Perhaps I can…find some time to repeat this in the days to come."

Even so, there's a long way to go if you expect him to take a break freely on his own. You will still have to keep an eye on him.

When he needed to think something over or find a solution to a problem, he usually traveled to Shambali where he watched the monastery alone, from afar. There is something in the scenery that brings him calmness every time. Plan a little trip to Shambali for him. Tell him that you need to go there for something and you need him to guide you. When his steps bring you two to his favorite spot, just stay silent and let him have a moment of peace. Watch how his shoulders drop and how his breathing becomes more deeply. He might remain silent or open up to you. If the latter happens, it usually leads to a deep conversation, and for him, this also counts as a way to relax.

#ramattra #overwatch #overwatch 2 #ramattra x reader #overwatch ramattra #ow2 ramattra #ramattra fanfic #overwatch scenario #overwatch x reader #overwatch requests #ramattra ow #ramattra x you #ramattra x oc #ow 2 #ow ramattra

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theteasetwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 1: Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mentions of blood/gore and violence ❧ Word Count: 5.3k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Duke Richard of House Grimes and his knight, Sir Daryl, arrive at King Ezekiel's court, though they do not know why they've been invited. Meanwhile, things are not well in the kingdom of Alexandria as a new threat begins to terrorize its citizens. Despite this, the princess dreams of seeing the world outside the castle walls by which she is imprisoned. She meets someone who she thinks might be able to help.

❧ A/N: Well, here it is. The first part of this weird ass thing I'm writing. I realize that this is super cringey but do I care? Well, a little, but you know what, I am having so much fun writing this and learning about medieval stuff so I am happy with it. I will link a "Before You Read..." page so that you guys can get a little more background info about what I'm trying to do here. I know this is kind of a weird AU and stuff so I have some disclaimers in that link. I've also included a link to the Merciless Beauty Glossary, which lists definitions for some of the terminology I will be using throughout the series. I recommend having that document open as you read as you can use it to quickly refer to in case you come across a word you are not familiar with.

Beyond gentle slopes of overgrown emerald pastures rose tall, imposing battlements of limestone, with tiny silhouettes of guards poking out of each crenel. From this distance, they looked hardly menacing, but the king’s guards were diligent, and their prowess in battle was not to be underestimated.

The duke raised the blue flag of Alexandria, signaling to the guards that they were no threat. In response, a guard reached over the wall to wave the same flag.

“They see us,” remarked the duke, pulling on the reins of his golden horse. “Here.” He handed back the worn piece of cerulean fabric to the knight who rode by his side. “Strange customs, but I don’t blame them.”

They moved upon their horses in a dignified trot, the knight’s ebony friesian stallion trained to mirror the movements of the steward’s palomino steed.

“They should be afraid,” said the knight. “The world is a dangerous place. Can’t believe they’ve held out this long.”

The duke flashed him a knowing look, that almost seemed to curl into an amused crack of the lips. “Sir Daryl,” he said, “I’ve always admired your optimism.”

The knight adjusted his feet in the heavy iron stirrups. He’d never quite get used to his lord’s jests. “Sorry,” he spoke simply. A man of few words, Richard always said.

“It’s all right, but you’d be advised to put on a cheerful face for the king. Joviality goes a long way with his type.”

“His type?”

“Unlike you, my friend, King Ezekiel is known for his… good humor.”

Daryl scoffed from the corner of his crooked smirk. “Thanks… What does the king want with you, anyway?”

Richard’s brows knit together in another amused expression of faux offense. “You think I’m not able to acquire a king’s favor? Careful, knight, you’re a free man now, but you could be downgraded to villein if necessary.”

Of course, the serious knight knew that such a threat was meant in good humor. Ten years of loyal servitude to the duke was more than enough reassurance.

The men continued onward, their horses plodding through moors that seemed to stretch on forever. The castle couldn’t come closer for Sir Daryl. He was dreading it, the pomp and circumstance of it all. But then, he knew that when he became a knight. It wasn’t the typical story, in fact. He wasn’t of any kind of good birth, his parents being poor and rather unsuccessful merchants in some other kingdom he’d purposefully forgotten the name of.

No, he wasn’t a nobleman’s son or a squire. He’d earned his title almost reluctantly, through his triumphs and battle prowess in the First War. That is, the war that preceded the Scourge.

A knight’s duty was to protect a lord, of course. He’d managed a position as the protector of Duke Richard’s land, just outside of Alexandria. In exchange for his protection, the knight had a place to live, and not a bad place at all. It was better than any decrepit wooden shack he’d lived in before, and, as far as nobility went, the duke was not a bad man. In fact, he was a good man, and that was hard to come by in times like these.

“But it’s odd,” Richard continued, “I don’t know what the king wants with me. I know he wants me to join his court, but I’ve heard he hasn’t invited anyone to court in ten years, since it broke out.” It, of course, was always understood as a reference to the plague that killed ordinary men with a gruesome fever, then brought them back as snarling, rotting walking dead men that feasted on the flesh of those who were unlucky enough to still be alive.

No one knew where it came from, but many thought the curse was nothing short of the wrath of God Himself. It was the only explanation in a world completely devoid of comfort. Though the idea that a supposedly benevolent god bestowing such a pestilence upon his so-called beloved children was hardly comforting. In these times, people took what they could get.

“Maybe he just wants your wonderful company,” Daryl replied, sure to speak with a sarcastic lilt to his gruff voice.

“No, no,” Richard said. “It doesn’t make sense. Ezekiel and I have only spoken a few times… You know, there’s a princess.”

Oh, yes, everyone knew of the princess, of course, though no one had seen her in years. The gatehouse of that castle hadn’t opened in ten years. No one had come in, and no one had gone out. Until now, of course.

“There’s always a princess,” Daryl huffed. “What does that have to do with anythin’?”

“Well, she’s got to be a woman now… I’m sure the king is looking to wed her to someone.”

Daryl flashed a suspicious glance at the curly-haired man, who returned the look with a steady shake of his head.

“You think he wants you to court her?”

“I don’t know, but if what they say is true, the princess is the most beautiful woman in Alexandria. Some say beyond Alexandria, too.”

It was odd for a man of Richard’s age and status to be unmarried. His wife had died six years ago in childbirth, along with the child. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it was a great tragedy in the duke’s life. The knight couldn’t see him remarrying at all after that, but if the king was going to offer his daughter to him, he would be a fool not to accept.

“Women with that kind of beauty are hard to come by,” continued Richard. “And royal, too. Hell, the princess is the king’s only child. That means… I could become king when he dies.”

“Gettin’ ahead of yourself,” chided Daryl. “We’re not even at the gatehouse yet.”

“Welcome, my friends!”

The king extended his arms wide, about as wide as the grin upon his countenance. He crossed the great hall, the steps of his pointed poulaines echoing off the grand high ceilings. The king’s hand clasped jovially upon the duke’s shoulder, but the gesture quickly turned into a hearty embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” said the king. “It’s been too long, Richard.”

“It has.”

The duke raised his eyes to gaze upon the magnificence of the hall. Though the exterior of the castle may have appeared quite imposing, the great hall was warm, welcoming, even. Elaborate arrangements of strong wooden arches upheld the roof, complete with intricately designed corbels to support them. Draped from the high stone walls were long blue banners bearing the royal family’s crest, no doubt made from the finest threads. Tapestries depicting mythical creatures and romantic scenes of knights going to battle or courting ladies were on full display, too. The hall was illuminated by the gilded light of what seemed to be a hundred or so candles, some upon sconces, others upon tables and in iron chain chandeliers. The pungent aroma of honey and elderflower tickled at the uninitiated noses of the two travelers, and, sure enough, in the king’s hand was a fine pewter goblet, which no doubt must’ve been brimming with a particularly pungent, sweet smelling mead.

“Come!” exclaimed the king. “Have a drink! This is cause for celebration.”

The loud bravado in the king’s voice must’ve alerted the court as finely dressed nobles began to pour in from the arches and the upstairs landing. As the duke and his knight followed the king to his banquet table, just in front of his imposing bronze throne, the court gathered in greater globs. Murmurs began to permeate the great hall, and the knight could just feel an army of eyes laid upon him and his lord. It wasn’t a feeling he reveled in.

“We’ve already had our feast,” said the king, sitting himself comfortably at the head of the long wooden table. “But I can have a servant bring you something. Only the finest dining here.”

“We’ve already eaten. Just a drink is fine for now, your majesty,” said the duke. As he sat, the loyal knight followed.

Daryl felt bear, having been made rid of his greatsword and his cloak by the guards at the entrance to the keep. There were few places outside of his home that he felt safe enough without either.

“Ah, libations!” exclaimed the emphatic king. He held his goblet high for emphasis. “This is the finest mead in Alexandria and her surrounding kingdoms. It comes from a monastery, I’ve been told. They raise bees there, isn’t that fantastic?”

The knight and the duke exchanged a glance. They had no idea what to make of the king. He was so full of merry, the likes of which they hadn’t seen in years. Perhaps it was the mead, but Richard knew the man was jovial. Still, it was a kind of shock.

The servants arrived with intricately detailed pewter pitchers full of the honey wine, filling their goblets to the brim. The excesses of wealth and royalty were foreign to the knight. Duke Richard was wealthy, yes, but not like this.

“So,” spoke the king, “I trust your journey through my kingdom was pleasant? No dead ones crossed your path?”

“Not at all,” said Richard. “Your kingdom is quite safe, it seems. Those tall walls will keep anything out.”

“Hm, yes,” agreed Ezekiel. “But you can never be too careful. No one’s left the castle in ten years, I’m sure you know. It’s better to be safe.”

That reminded the duke. He intended to ask why the king had invited him to court, but before he could speak again, the boisterous king looked to Sir Daryl with an enthusiastic curiosity.

“This is your knight?”

“Yes, this is Sir Daryl.”

The king settled back in his chair, stroking the gray corkscrew hairs upon his noble chin. “Ah, I’ve heard of your gallantry in battle, how you earned your title. My father knighted you, didn’t he?”

Daryl looked to his steward, wordlessly asking for permission to speak. Richard nodded. “Yes, your majesty,” spoke the knight. His voice was raspier than usual, having been silent for so long since arriving at the castle. After all, what could a knight possibly have to say? His only duty was to protect his lord, as a vassal. He was of lower rank than Richard, and, though he never much cared for the details of hierarchy, it was in his best interest to know his place.

“How grand! Well, gentlemen, I do hope you find this court to be a fount of merriment in these dark times.” He gestured to the surrounding great hall, and the people who watched with bated breath as they clung to the monarch’s every word. “Everyone has been so eager to meet you. This is a momentous occasion. A toast!” The king stood to his feet, raising his goblet high. Others followed suit, of course, as the two newcomers sat overwhelmed at the king’s table. “To Duke Richard and his knight, the first additions to court in a decade of strife.”

“Huzzah!”

With a long drink of his mead, the king met the duke with wide eyes, then removed the cup in a near panic, though it was a jolly panic. “I almost forgot! How could I forget? My daughter, (Y/N). Elizabeth! Fetch my daughter!”

“Yes, your majesty.” The mousy young maid with flaxen hair frantically ascended the staircase with great haste.

Richard straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. The knight could tell he was nervous, but he couldn’t understand why. A princess was hardly anything to be nervous about. It was the king the duke needed to impress, he thought.

“Minstrels!” the king exclaimed, gesturing towards the troupe of musicians across the great hall. There were three, each dressed in colorful garb and feathered caps. One held a lute, the other, a flute, and the third, a tambour. “Play something for the princess’s entrance. Something… delicate, but dignified, like her.”

“Yes, your majesty!” one of the minstrels replied.

Yes, your majesty, seemed a rather common phrase around here.

Then, from atop the stairs appeared a young woman.

You heard the musicians begin to play their little tune—a soft, simple tune that seemed to evolve with each step you took. Each step was calculated and precise, partly because that was how you were trained to walk, and partly because you were careful not to trip over your gown. Your father had instructed you to wear your best clothes the last few days, though you weren’t sure why. You’d heard of a duke coming to court, but it was hardly of any interest to you. Why should you care? Why should you welcome an outsider when you haven’t been able to leave this dusty old castle in years?

“That must be the duke,” whispered Margaret. She followed your every move, as a lady-in-waiting was supposed to.

“He’s handsome,” Michonne whispered back.

You shushed the ladies out of the corner of your mouth. They were much too excited for their own good, much more excited than you.

At the base of the staircase, your father held his hand out to you, beaming at your beauty. Tonight, you wore your favorite champagne-colored surcote, made from a heavy silk, with long, flowing sleeves that split at the elbow to reveal the pure white lace-front gown. The décolletage was modest, but deep enough to reveal just the beginning of your cleavage, formed by the tight lacing that held your chest in place. It wasn’t quite in vogue these days, but then again, nothing was in vogue these days.

As you took his hand, you realized that the duke and his knight were standing for you. Of course they were, but their new faces caught you off guard. You knew everyone in court so well, it was strange to see two strangers standing for you.

Your father lifted his hand, in turn raising your arm to show you off like a prized mare. With knitted brows and a quivering lip, you flashed him a confused expression. He’d never introduced you like this before, but then again, he never introduced you to anyone before.

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning his attention to the duke and his knight. “I present to you my daughter, (Y/N), Crown Princess of Alexandria.”

The men each bent over to bow before you, and you took in their appearance with great interest. It wasn’t often you had new faces to study.

The duke was well-dressed, wearing a damask scarlet doublet that must’ve cost a fortune, with tight-fitting wool hose to accentuate his lean legs. It would be remiss not to note how handsome he was, with a head of lush curls and a short, well-trimmed beard to frame his salmon-colored lips. If it weren’t for his title and his clothing, you could tell the man was a noble just by looking at the shape of his nose, aquiline and strong. Yes, he was handsome.

But just beyond his shoulder, your eyes were pulled like magnets to the knight. His clothes were more muted, but made from a fine material. A plain black wool tabard draped over his broad shoulders, his waist cinched with a fine leather belt, strapped to which was a lone misericorde, the dagger which you knew from your studies to be what knights used to deliver the final death blow to an enemy. The sharp tip sent a shiver down your spine as you wondered briefly if he’d ever had to use it.

Though his coloring was similar to the duke, both having hair of brown and eyes of blue, their similarities ended there. The knight had a much more tired face, world-weary. It was difficult to see clearly, given the shadows created by the long wavy locks of hair shrouding his visage, but he appeared to have a reddened scar trailing from his brow to his cheek, crossing over his left eye.

From what you could see, he looked nothing like any man you’d seen before. He was weather-worn and hardened by the world, at least, that’s how he looked. He must’ve seen such terrible things, you thought. In the fine lines of his face, you could begin to make out an image of the world outside. Here was a man who must’ve known its ins and outs like the back of his hand, must’ve been so brave to have survived this long outside the walls, fighting the Dead.

Though your face was softened by curiosity, the knight’s was stoic and cold. He seemed somehow both distant and alert, aware of his surroundings despite his reluctance to be surrounded by them. The duke’s kind face was much more welcoming, but, for a moment, you were held hostage by the knight’s narrowed, serious gaze.

“Your highness,” said the duke. “I am Duke Richard of House Grimes.” He turned to gesture towards the knight. “And this is my knight, Sir Daryl.”

A curious name for a curious face, you thought. Still, you tried to maintain your focus on the nobleman.

“It is an honor to meet you, milord,” you replied. “The court has been anticipating your arrival.” Though I haven’t. “Oh, these are my ladies-in-waiting, Lady Margaret and Lady Michonne.”

You brought the ladies forth, each of them curtseying before the duke. It gave you a moment to look upon the knight again.

“Pleasure,” the duke said to your ladies. “And… may I say, princess, you’re just as radiant as they say.”

You looked wide-eyed at the king, who smiled bigger than he had in years. The blush that blossomed upon your cheeks was not one of flattery, necessarily, but slight embarrassment. “Oh… They speak of me?”

“Yes. Common people often praise your beauty. Many would sell their land or their livestock for the chance just to get a glimpse of you. I must admit, it would be worth it.”

A whirlpool of emotions formed in your belly, mostly confusion. You’d never been complimented quite like this before. “Well… Thank you, milord. That’s very kind of you to say.” Swallowing hard, you turned to your father, who seemingly expected you to return with an equal compliment. “Father, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the evening.” You turned back to face the duke. “Goodnight, Richard. I hope your stay in court is pleasant.”

Your father’s smile faded with your announcement, but he nodded as he tried to offset his disappointment. “Of course, my dear. Goodnight.”

At length, you sat before your vanity to remove your jewels while Elizabeth prepared your bed as usual. She hummed to herself the same little tune the musicians had played earlier for your grand entrance to meet the duke. Removing your translucent veil, you got to work undoing the circles of elaborate braids and removing the genuine pearls laced throughout when a rapping came at the door of your chamber.

“My dear, it’s me,” said your father. “May I come in?”

Oh, for pity's sake.

You turned on your stool to gesture towards Elizabeth. “Let him in,” you said. “I can undress myself tonight. Goodnight, Beth.”

The young girl nodded before opening the door for the king. He thanked her as she left, while you straightened up to no doubt receive a tongue lashing for your less than friendly reception of the newcomers.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, sitting at the foot of your bed as he adjusted his gold trimmed velvet robe. “My dear… I must say I am a bit disappointed that you didn’t sit and speak with the duke tonight.”

“Well, father, I… It’s hard to be excited about these new guests when I myself haven’t been outside the castle since I was a girl. And now, all of a sudden, you’re letting in some nobleman and his knight? Why?”

To the king, it was obvious, but to you, it was totally unclear. There was much about the world you still didn’t know, and though you were knowledgeable, on account of your royal tutoring, you were still naïve in many ways.

Your father stood as he sighed, piecing a long, gray-black dread lock behind his ear. “Well, I was hoping…” He shook his head, then crossed over to you, taking your hands in his as he looked at you with that adventurous sparkle in his eyes. “You liked Richard, didn’t you? He was charming?”

You were caught off guard by the question, but you shrugged and nodded with a half-smile. “Why, yes. He’s charming.”

“And handsome?”

“Well… Of course. He’s very handsome, any woman would think so.”

“So…”

“Father, are you… trying to ask me if I want to court the duke?”

“Yes,” he laughed in relief that you caught on without him having to explain. “Richard is a good man, one of the best nobles left. He’s wealthy, too. Though I was always hoping for a political marriage for you, as long as the man is at least a noble and a suitable husband, I think this kind of match would be good for you. In fact, we could move Richard here, that way you never have to leave the castle, and—”

“Father!” you exclaimed, shocked by how excited he was at this idea without even hearing your thoughts, of which you had many. “I’m not ready to marry!”

“But you’re twenty-six, my dear.”

Standing to your feet, you shook your head and pulled out the remaining braids in your hair. “I’m just not ready. The duke is… He’s perfect, but I’m not interested. I can’t explain it, it’s just not a match.”

“But you’ve hardly spoken to him!”

You didn’t need to speak to him to know, you just knew. It was impossible to explain. All you knew was that it wouldn’t work, and that marriage was simply not in your near future. You had other priorities, other… curiosities. Love was not one of them, except in your fairytales and love poems. You had a hard time believing love could be any better than that.

“Father, please. I’ve told you how I felt, and I’m sorry if you brought this man here just for me, but I can’t force myself to try with someone who doesn’t interest me in that way.”

He crossed the room with a soft step, his face morphing into an understanding smile. “I know, darling. I’m sorry to have upset you. I would never force you into a marriage that didn’t please you, I just… I just want you to marry a good man. Well, so long as he’s a noble, at least.”

Your father was never a traditional king, but he still insisted on some things, and one of them was that you would marry well. Well meaning high status. Some things were sacred.

“But if the duke isn’t to your liking,” he continued, “I won’t force it.”

“Thank you, father. That means a great deal to me.”

“Good.” His hand cradled the back of your head to bring you forward, allowing him to bestow a fatherly kiss upon your forehead. “Someday, you will make a great queen. A better ruler than me, I am sure.”

“Father,” you laughed. “You are a great ruler. The people love you. Everyone loves you. That’s what matters.”

“My sweet girl,” he said, now holding your cheeks to admire your pretty, delicate features. You were truly a princess through and through. “You’re the most precious jewel in my crown.” An old phrase he’d said to you since you were a little girl. The man was so sentimental, a trait you admired greatly. “I bid you goodnight.”

As he headed back towards the door, you began to think freely, with your mind returning to the knight beside Richard. Daryl, you recalled his name. You’d never heard a name like that, nor seen a face like that.

“Father?” you called out to him just before he could leave.

“Yes, my dear?”

Looking down, you toyed with the fine silk fabric of your surcote, prefering to study the rich champagne color than to face your father as you asked, “Tell me about Richard’s knight.”

The king’s brows furrowed, his head tilting to the side in a display of curiosity and confusion. “The knight? Sir… Daryl, I believe?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, still nervously rubbing the garment between your fingers. To clarify, you lifted your gaze to your father. “Well, I mean… I was just curious. You know how I have a fascination with knights and things of that sort.”

The king shook his head with a warm, deep chuckle. “Oh, daughter. Well, I don’t know much of him, other than that he is brave, loyal… He was knighted by your grandfather, you know. Just a few years before he passed.”

“And he is of noble birth, like Richard?”

“No, no,” he replied. “Not at all. His parents were lower gentry. He earned his title in battle, a rare feat for a knight, as you know.”

Indeed, most knights were born to nobility, becoming pageboys before the age of ten, then promoting to squire in their youth. After years of studying under an established knight, the squire would then undergo the dubbing ceremony. He’d learn the code of chivalry, and he’d pledge allegiance to a lord, offering military services in exchange for a fief, or land. It seemed that Sir Daryl must’ve met many of these requirements, but he certainly wasn’t a noble.

“That’s quite interesting,” you said. “I knew he seemed different. Well, goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, my sweet.”

When the candlelight was extinguished, and the only sound left in the dead of night was that of the crickets chirping and the toads ribbeting, you were left in solitude with your thoughts. These thoughts were not new, of course. They were visions of the outside world, beyond the castle walls and the walls of the kingdom. They hung somewhere between consciousness and dream, but your thoughts were intentional, purposeful. You thought of the trees, the flowers, the little streams. You thought of the deer and the birds and the butterflies, every beautiful thing you hadn’t seen since the Scourge began. That plague had taken everything from you, your mother, your freedom, your peace of mind.

Others had it much worse, of course, and you knew that, but that didn’t ease your heartache. There were many nights you cried yourself to sleep, hoping your father couldn’t hear, for he did what he did for good reason—he was terrified of losing you, his only child.

But tonight, you didn’t cry at all. In fact, there was a strange sense of hope nestled in your heart, something you hadn’t felt in so many years. At first, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but as your head and your heart began to work together, you realized—it was the knight.

Not only was the knight a new addition to the court, but he was brave, a fighter. He would surely help you escape.

Escape was something you’d thought of before, but now, it seemed within reach. Of course, you wouldn’t leave forever, just a day. Just a day outside the walls, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the soft grass underfoot. There wasn’t anyone else. The guards all pledged such strong allegiance to the king, they would surely inform him of your plans if you asked. The others weren’t skilled in combat, couldn’t keep you safe. No, the only solution was the knight. He would help you. Surely, he would help you.

In your alone time, you often walked the corridors of the keep, as there wasn’t much else to do when you weren’t occupied by your books or your needlepoint. Today was no different, though the court was still excitable over the arrival of the duke last night.

You tried to ignore that, instead keeping yourself in your thoughts as you wandered aimlessly, until your father’s panicked voice resounded from inside his cabinet, adjacent to his bedchamber. What you made out were the words, “How could this happen?!”

Curiosity overcame you, your boredom having been relentless. You looked around the corridor for a moment, ensuring no passersby would see you. The guards were at the other end of the hall, facing away from you. If you were quiet, no one would see you pressing your ear to the ornate wooden door.

“Constable,” your father huffed, “are you quite sure?”

“Yes, your majesty,” spoke Lord Constable Aaron. “There have been reports of mysterious cloaked knights extorting citizens throughout the kingdom. They demand crops, livestock, women… They threaten murder if they don’t get their way, my liege. We had some isolated incidents in the past, but this past month, they’ve been happening more frequently.”

“And you didn’t think it of import to tell the king?” questioned Lord Chancellor Gerald. “There hasn’t been crime like this in Alexandria since we closed our gates.”

“I didn’t want to worry his majesty with incidents of petty crime,” responded the constable. “But now… Well, a boy has been killed.”

“What?!” your father exclaimed. “Who?”

“Thomas Webb, son of the innkeeper, James. He was only sixteen… I’ve been told it was…”

The constable trailed off, his voice becoming shaky as he spoke.

“Speak, Aaron,” demanded the king.

The constable cleared his throat, then lowered his voice. You pressed your ear harder against the wood of the door, so much so that you feared a splinter.

“Apologies, milord… It—it was a gruesome death, the likes of which we haven’t seen in Alexandria since the Dead breached our walls. But this wasn’t a dead man, it was a knight in black armor, their leader. We could hardly identify the boy, his head was… Well, your majesty, his head was obliterated.”

A small gasp escaped your lips, your hand quickly reaching up to catch it before it alerted the guards.

“By God,” uttered the chancellor. “What kind of knight are we dealing with?”

“A knight wouldn’t commit a crime like that,” spoke an at first unfamiliar voice, but you quickly identified it as that of the duke. “No, not any kind of true knight. A dishonored one, maybe.”

“It’s of no concern to me what this man’s status is,” said the king. “All I care about is protecting my people. Constable, I need strengthened security across the kingdom, especially in the merchant district. Something tells me these marauders are targeting the middle and lower classes. I also want tighter security at the outer curtain. No one should be entering or leaving the kingdom without my permission, and if they’re entering clandestinely, there must be a blind spot or a chink in our armor. If the living can get in, the Dead can, too. Get it sorted. There will be no more of this… obliterating in my kingdom, understand?”

“Absolutely, your majesty. We’ll double up our defenses. This won’t happen again… Oh, and… There is one more thing.”

“What is it?” asked the king. “I have very little time for idle conversation today, constable.”

“Yes, yes, of course, your majesty, but… Well, this is quite important. The knight in black armor left a message with one of our guards, just before he… chopped off his arm.”

Your lips trembled with fear. How could a man do such a thing? And this man was in your kingdom, hurting your people. It was horrifying. That poor guard, you thought. That poor boy… Oh, that poor, poor boy.

“Good lord!” huffed the king. “All right, what is it?”

The constable cleared his throat as you heard a crinkling of paper. “Your majesty,” the constable read from the letter, “let this be a first warning, an introduction of sorts. My name is Sir Negan of House Smith, my people are the Saviors. If you cooperate with me, there will be no more bloodshed, but if you go against me, I will plunder and pillage this pretty kingdom until the streets are soaked red. I ask, or demand, rather, for one thing: your daughter.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

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lia404 · 2 months ago

Note

I'll give you Yusaku for "Send me a Yugioh character" owo

AH. Ahaha. Oh my god, okay. So for context, your ask landed in my inbox exactly when I was struggling with formatting my "Yusaku birthday post." Which means it caught me at a point when I had even MORE feelings than I usually do for this boy. I apologise in advance: the answer about Kaiba may have been a wall of text, but I'm afraid this one will become a full skyscraper of text. So go grab some tea, coffee, biscuits, whatever makes you feel good for a break, then sit back and relax while I scream at you about how much I CARE for Yusaku Fujiki.

(Whatever happens remember that you asked for it.) (Thank you so much for this, too, even if I've spent a good part of my afternoon and all my evening and part of my night on it.) (By the way at this point I really won't feel insulted if no one reads it to the end, I think I mostly need to get it all out of my system.)

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD, in the form of headcanons and personal analyses of Yusaku's character and his relationships, along with multiple screenshots, gif, videos, all hidden behind the excuse of an ask meme (so it's still superficial in many parts, but I feel like it's a good overview.) I'm putting it all behind a cut since I know how to use them now. (Or do I? It's the 4th time I edit to put the cut back to the place it's meant to be at.)

----------- Also, keeping track so I stop getting lost in my own blog: The original Ask meme Seto Kaiba Spectre Aoi Zaizen I still answer for other characters so long as they're from DM or Vrains!

Why I like him/why I don’t

I think it's Yusaku's resilience that I like the most. He can be no-nonsense and harsh, but he's always honest, and he always stands up. It's striking, actually, how he always manages to keep standing.

He's thrown to the ground by life, by his enemies (interestingly, many declare they are his enemies when he's not even TRYING to alienate them, and just doesn't really care.) Even his allies are the reason why he ends up beaten up sometimes. And yet, he always get back up. It's very rare to see him fully crash, which makes it even more impactful when he does.

I'm just fascinated at how even at his lowest, at the biggest blows he receives, he stands up. His strive for life is remarkable, so much so that it sometimes almost feels like a curse. Just the same way he keeps winning and winning, because he's good, of course, but also because losing is not an option. He has to stand up and he keeps doing it for himself, for others, and still manages to feel guilty for not doing enough.

(I'm afraid you'll have to do with my French subtitles, I am NOT trying to find other streams just to make screencaps, these ones were hard enough to find.)

"Sorry, Kusanagi, your brother Jin has been taken and Lightning is menacing humanity and all of this is because I'm not strong enough."

Yusaku, FFS.

This is all heavily linked to the other aspect of his character I love most: Yusaku is so human. He's filled with hope. In one of the episodes of season 3, Revolver tells him to "stop thinking with his naive optimism".

And Playmaker clearly doesn't like it, look at this face.

But he still holds onto it until the end. He's not giving up until he's forced to (and even when it's done, he takes off and tries to find solutions.)

And Yusaku cares, he cares so much. He may seem heinous and gratuitously savage with the way he shuns Shima or Ai, but you have to go beyond the words. When Shima is captured, he literally runs to his rescue, barely waiting for the van to stop before he jumps out of it to check on his classmate. Shima and other people around, no matter how annoying, will also give occasional encouragements (often hidden behind a layer of backhanded compliments, because that's how Yusaku rolls.)

Yusaku makes sure that people around him are feeling alright. He comforts them. He may not use the nicest words, he has the sensitivity of an elephant let loose in a fine china shop, but his words usually strike right where they should. He helps. He gives a lot of himself for this, apparently not caring what other people think of it.

Goddamnit, Yusaku. Why are you trying to make me cry.

And this, actually, paradoxically, might be the only thing I dislike for him. It's not even about HIM per se (he may not be perfect but I am able to admit I'm too biased to not have a hard time finding him any flaws.) It's the way he gives so much of himself for everyone leads not only to people relying on him a lot, they also tend to take him for granted. And it pisses me off. Yusaku doesn't really fight against it, which, understandable considering his character, his backstory, everything. But sometimes I wish he could stop being the hero of Link VRAINS, because he's spreading himself too thin, and he had to break at some point. Or multiple times.

What I like about his appearance

I am trying SO hard to stop myself from waxing all kinds of poetics on him, so for this once I'll go with the most obvious: his EYES.

(Yes this was all a shameless excuse to flood you with close-ups of Yusaku and Playmaker's beautiful, vibrant eyes.)

The colour is striking, of course, especially in contrast with his or Playmaker's hair. But also, for someone meant to be aloof and stoic, Yusaku's eyes are hella expressive. His eyebrows only emphasise it, and actually, this is another trait I really like: Playmaker's eyebrows are orange. Playmaker is a real red-head! It makes me irrationally happy. It's the little details, folks, and Yusaku definitely pays more attention to them than most would expect.

And the second aspect of his appearance I just can't omiss...

...Well, that's his smile, of course! If only he had reasons to smile more often. Look at him; no matter how terrible the situation, he manages to smile.

This one is from when he says goodbye to Kusanagi before the final duel agains Ai. It's honestly quite tragic, but here he is. Smiling. Why is no one in this series protecting this smile. What are they all DOING.

Anyway, I've been writing for way too long already and I still have TOO MUCH to say so that's it for the appearance. He's adorable, he's beautiful, he's gorgeous.

Do I prefer his dub names or original names?

You'd think the question is not relevant since his name is the same in both, BUT. There's actually a massive difference. I can't take the dub version's stressed Yu'SAku seriously when in Japanese it's very clearly 'YUUsaku. Also, watching parts of the dub has been very amusing once I accepted that it was a parody, but there's not much to keep. Not even the pronunciation of a name. So I'm going with original, no hesitation.

OTP

Okay, another obvious one. If you've been following me you have noticed the ridiculous amount of Datastormshipping I put in your feed.

Evil smile besties ftw.

And YET.

It's so hard to ship them seriously. There's so much to repair. I can't see them all lovey-dovey, they have to work for it, and work HARD. Because Playmaker is just... so completely defanged when he's in front of Revolver. And Revolver, while actually acting in the shadow to support Playmaker so many times in the course of 120 episodes, never spares him a kind word, a nice face, except when he thinks he's dying.

I suspect he's not doing it consciously, but the way Revolver behaves makes me feel like he takes Playmaker for granted. It makes sense, considering their backstory: Revolver has obsessed over Playmaker and endangered people he cared about because of it. He has also proved multiple times that he is very intent to shoulder the full blame for an incident he had not much to do about, so he'd rather keep Playmaker and his "stupid faith in him" at a distance. But Revolver is also Playmaker's saviour, which makes it so Playmaker trusts him and can follow him blindly no matter what.

Eloquent: everyone is wary to follow, but Playmaker is first in line, not a hint of hesitation in spite of having no idea of what lies behind the portal.

For this reason, I'm actually happy with the Revolver event in Duel Links, in spite of all its writing flaws.

In the event, Playmaker feels Revolver with his Link Sense even before he arrives, which shows that he's still VERY attuned to Revolver. And in spite of this clear bond, Playmaker really stands against Revolver and asserts his beliefs with no room for negociation, something he hasn't done since the Tower of Hanoi (...and even then, arguably, he was trying to negociate.) He is not yielding no matter how important Revolver might be for him. And, at the end of the event, Revolver seems to be relieved to have met such resistance. He even sounds sort of supportive? It's open to interpretation, but my feeling was that he actually approved of Playmaker's doing and encouraged him. The Ghost Gal and Spectre events that followed emphasised it for me. They're clearly not fighting anymore, but they also don't have this weird blind spot for each other anymore.

With this approach, I feel like they'd have better roots for a relationship that would not lean towards codependence or other unhealthy bases.

Don't get me wrong, I adore the fluff, and Datastormshipping really is the obvious end goal for me, but for this ship what I love most is them having to work for it. Because even if they clearly trust each other, Yusaku will have to learn to NOT give all of himself blindly, and Ryoken will need to learn to actively LISTEN to Yusaku, and even make him speak.

(As a quick parenthesis, because I'll get back to this topic later and I'd rather not leave any ambiguity: as much as I resent him for his treatment of Yusaku, I absolutely adore Revolver, in this terrible love/hate dynamic that makes me hate to love him and love to hate him. In spite of everything, or maybe DUE to all of this, I really like his character. I'm not sure I'll ever write deep meta about him, though, because he's already had a lot written about him and I doubt I have much more to bring to discussions that happened years ago. But who know what time will bring? Anyway, Datastormshipping FTW.)

NOTP

BEWARE: unpopular opinion ahead. I actually can't see Aiballshipping.

Again, don't get me wrong: I see where the shippers come from, and I really don't hate the ship! I've read multiple doujin and fanfictions, I enjoy the content, I enjoy the art, I love the analyses of the ship... But I can't see it, because for me, it goes beyond a romantic relationship. Ai is literally a part of Yusaku. Him and Yusaku are a package, in a way: if someone wants to be with Yusaku, they'll also have to be with Ai. If someone says Yusaku "It's Ai or me", they'd better not expect to be chosen. I understand Aiballshipping. I like reading takes on it, I like reading stories about it. But to me, what Ai and Yusaku have is not romantic. It's something obvious, a given, almost fusional. They don't kiss; they can communicate without saying a word. (Even if they spend their time throwing jabs at each other out loud.) Any other romantic relationship will come in addition to it, without being replaced by it. So I don't "ship" it. It's very much not an OTP. I have no idea which verb I could use for it, though, because I'm not really sure it can be considered queerplatonic either.

OT3

Di-sas-ter-ship-ping! It's actually my main ship, even if there's not a lot of content. Sure, if we want to make it work in a nice healthy way, it's going to be quite the challenge. BUT not everything has to be serious and reasonable or even believable (I have datastormshipping for this) and seriously, the dynamic between these three has so much potential for wholesomeness, stupid arguments and general chaos. It's called disastershipping for a reason. (Not only this, I know, but still.)

Look at them, their smug poses and their stupidly form-fitting costumes. What could go wrong, right? <3

Favourite card he uses

Contrary to my answer re: Kaiba's deck, this time I am familiar with Playmaker's deck, because I play it AND I actually watched his duels multiple times to understand how he uses it. The fact is that even if there's the usual "I magically draw the exact card I need and use if without even looking at it" effect that is characteristic to Yu-Gi-Oh animes, his deck is solid and it really allows different kind of combos to always find workaround. (Doesn't mean I don't brick often, but not everyone can be Playmaker.)

So I actually have TWO favourite cards. The first one is my little love, usually one of the first to join the field: Backup Secretary.

She's beauty, she's grace, she's always here to help me link summon my ace. She's easy to use. She may not be the best one, but I'm so happy to have her in my deck—three times. I have multiple other cards that allow me to bring her in my hand. She never stays long on the field, since her specialty is to help summoning various types of Code Talkers, but she's a life saver. And seriously her design is awesome.

And the second one is, in my amateur point of view (I need to write the disclaimer that while I'm not BAD at duelling, I'm not exactly GOOD either and I miss a lot, lot, lot of subtleties) one of the best cards in Playmaker's deck: Recoded Alive.

This card is a lifesaver. It has multiple effects for different situations. It helps me avoid having an empty field when my opponent's field is filled with monsters. It's a trap, and allows me to switch monsters when attacked if I use it during the opponent's turn. It allows me to bring another monster to the field and have another attacking monster if I play it during my own battle phase.

And even if we want to remain focused on Playmaker's storyline, it's one of the most important ones Yusaku plays in the anime. It's always here for him since the beginning, and it has allowed him to bring back so many monsters. I mean, it basically wins him a duel against Revolver. It saves him against Ai. It's just... I love this card. It took me forever to understand how it works, but now it's hard to imagine a Playmaker deck without it.

Favourite moment(s) he was in

And here I thought I had already written enough. Well, we're here for a few more hours. I hope your tea has not gone cold.

I dare hope that you KNEW you shouldn't expect me to choose only ONE moment. There are so many. I can't satisfy myself with only one, I must bring up a few more, but not too many because this post is overwhelming enough as it is.

1. Season 1, when Playmaker goes against Akira to recover files in SOL's massive datbase. I can't begin to express how angry I was with the way Akira treats Yusaku. I know it was done in good faith, but having Akira tell Yusaku "go have a normal life, go out with your friends, enjoy your life as a teenager and prepare for your future, it's important" is just horribly condescending. It's SO satisfying to see Playmaker put the Zaizen, who always seem to think they know what he feels, or what is best for him, in their place. There's something incredibly satisfying in having Yusaku say "It is MY story and it is MINE to tell".

"I don't want the story of my past to be told by someone else."

Having Playmaker defend his story like this, and not let others take it or misinterpret it (especially when they feel like they "understand"), is, to me, a very powerful moment. And as if this wasn't enough, Yusaku adds a power move to it, adding a step in his final turn that he didn't have to do to win the duel: returning the two Tindangle cards representing Akira and Aoi to the hand rather than winning by leaving them both in the graveyard. When confronted about it, he answers that he doesn't want the siblings to be in the darkness of the graveyard, that his revenge should not implicate them and that they should walk towards the light. It is incredibly heartful, AND an amazing way to show Zaizen that he will never manage to "understand" Yusaku considering the mindset he keeps displaying. That was so badass, seriously. I wish the Zaizen had learnt more from it.

2. Season 2, after the duel against Kusanagi. Playmaker won and collapsed, not waking up. The second moment I like most is there, in Yusaku's head. It's intimidating... and slightly tragic.

"I have done enough. I'm tired."

Oh. It's been building up for so many episodes, they've been straining him so much, and finally, it happens. The quietest mental breakdown, the hint of depression. It makes him so human, so relatable suddenly, and yet it's so painful. I love this moment because it really brought me back to who he is: a 16 year old kid with a trauma bigger than himself and the expectations of a whole city (world?) on his shoulders. I'm glad he gets up again, but I'm also really glad that we get to see this part of him, so tragically realistic. Now let's wrap him in a blanket and hug him, okay?

3. Season 3: The "last nice moments in the real world". I wish we had had more of those in the whole course of the series, there was SO MUCH potential for it! Look at them being teenagers. Yusaku, so happy, confident and carefree as he is working for Kusanagi (and this apron makes him look so cute.) Yusaku, being pestered by Shima who wants to know where Playmaker is (WHY would Yusaku know? Shima has weird leaps of logic.) And Aoi and Yusaku having the most AWKWARD handshake, that instantly relieved me from the fear that Aoi might be a love interest.

"This is what high schoolers do I guess. Okay, we tried, we're done, completely uninteresting, let's move on now. When's our next trauma-session already?"

That's three moments I love, but I can't resist adding a last Painful Bonus: another moment of "let's make Playmaker suffer". I'm so sorry, Yusaku.

4. Season 3: Roboppi's death; the flashback to a younger Yusaku who has just built his cleaning robot and is SO proud, so happy and welcoming, and then Playmaker, broken, begging Soulburner to strike one last time and finish Roboppi.

I feel like his eyes, at that moment, are another reminder of his age. It's one of the most terrible scenes of the whole anime (I'd say ex-aequo with Ai's final words), it's masterfully executed, the pacing is amazing, the work on the expressions is amazing, the voice acting is incredible. But really, these eyes.

Least favourite moment

Two moments come to mind, and both are in the third season. You'll see there's a recurring theme, and more importantly, the fact that I really don't like these moments barely comes from Yusaku's role in them. Even if his personality encourages it.

1. The scene at the pier. It's REALLY, REALLY not Yusaku's fault, but he's still one of the two major protagonists so it counts as a "least favourite moment." Yusaku is going for the final fight, and Ryoken catches him, sends him and almost kills him with the card that will help him win the duel against Ai. I know this scene is considered one of the cornerstones of Datastormshipping, but all I can see is... Yusaku getting rejected, again, after saying goodbye to Kusanagi with a brave and grateful smile on his face, and just before having to destroy someone that is essentially a part of him. He calls Ryoken's name, and Ryoken keeps the most distance possible. I think it may have been one of the worst things Ryoken could have done, and even the fact that the Borrel dragon is actually a symbol of how much Ryoken believes in Yusaku,.. well, it would still be not enough to recover from the blatant, cold rejection Yusaku received at that moment. Ryoken, I know you couldn't find it in you to encourage him, but you only had to say his first name. Acknowledge him more than by coldly stating his complete name. And maybe NOT use the word "farewell" this time, because twice in the few first minutes of an episode is way too much. GOD FORBID Yusaku has any sort of support from Ryoken, that would encourage him to feel like they have a bond, the horreur. (Ugh.) With Playmaker knowing that Takeru would leave, Aoi would have Miyu, Kusanagi would have his brother, having Ryoken just... coldly ignoring all tentative of closeness, and leaving without looking back, WELL. It's no wonder Yusaku disappeared solo at the end. From his perspective, he had no one left.

2. Mission begin: everyone is ready to try and stop Ai, the plan is set and Playmaker is not part of any team since he's not even here. Except...

"We can't begin without Playmaker."

It annoys me so much, because the thing is, yes, yes you really can begin without Playmaker. And you should, Heaven's sake!

Many characters at this point have told him that they would understand if he didn't want to take part in this fight, that they would shoulder some of his burden and that he could rest and stay away for his health and sanity.

The thing is, Yusaku is not this kind of person. He will take responsbility and let no one else do the job in his stead. And he comes back, in a rather flashy way, EXACTLY when they're all expecting him. And barely anyone is surprised, they all look so relieved. They were waiting for this.

This moment leaves such a bitter taste in my mouth, because here is the problem with Playmaker: he's so good and reliable that people just... lean on him and wait for him to do the hard work. No matter how traumatising. I took screenshots of the many, many times people said "I leave it into your hands, Playmaker". "I know you"ll complete the job well, Playmaker." "I'm counting on you, Playmaker." I am not putting all of them here, but I have an album of these.

In doing so, they only enable his rather destructive hero-complex.

Destructive because, consider: he had a huge trauma when he was a kid and never fully recovered. When he finally learns and fights the truth behind this trauma, he feels like his revenge is over, but the person he'd spent years and years looking for is gone after treating him quite awfully. Additionally, he releases his new "hostage/friend" and goes back to being alone. He's been a hero, and all he got was: being alone again. Come Takeru, and somehow he acquires a sort of social circle. He's not really good at it, but it exists, and he even looks quite comfortable with it, if a bit awkward. Then he's forced to watch, powerless, as all his newfound friends/trusted persons get erased one after another, all of them with parting words expressing how much they trusted him to fix this. Way to make him feel like it's great to have friends and allies, uh. Then the humans come back, but the Ignis are dead, and he feels like he has failed his self-imposed mission to find a way to coexist. Ai is gone, Ryoken sort of gloats (I understand it's probably not what he intended, but it still feels awfully like it.) He's been a hero, and all he got was: more trauma about losing people, more responsibilities he shouldn't have to shoulder, and likely no one who understands the pain he's in because the world is safe now.

And then Ai comes back and everything goes upside down, and Yusaku lives in denial all beginning of season 3.

That's what makes it a self-destructive complex, for me. Every time he plays hero, Yusaku exposes himself to the things that hurt him most. He's never rewarded. And yet, he keeps doing it, and giving people what they want from him/taking responsibility for things that should NEVER be considered his responsibility. It drives me crazy.

Note: I have a similar beef with the "epilogue", in which they all have something nice to say about Playmaker, and they're all so certain that he's amazing, that he'll be back... And yet. No one is looking. Not even Revolver, who should have it easy since he's working from the inside. Arguably, Kusanagi keeps the foodtruck parked in the same place so he has a home to go back to if he wishes

"He would be sad if he didn't have a place to come back to sometimes": I am convinced that Kusanagi is aware of how fragile the notion of "home" is for Yusaku.

So there's this at least. Arguably #2, I guess we could say they all know he doesn't want to communicate and they respect it. But the way they talk about him, it doesn't feel like its the case.

And this is why I keep saying that they don't deserve him; are they friends, or are they fans? Is any of them even really trying to do something for him, beyond "understanding his feelings" (Aoi, sigh), or rooting for him in the typical "Good old Playmaker, always knows what to do!" way (Takeru, sigh.)

Oh, Yusaku. The way they treat you upsets me so much. It's absolutely not what they're aiming for, but it's like they're encouraging you to develop new traumas instead of really helping you, and it makes me so angry.

So, yeah. I hate these moments, and these dynamics.

Would I fuck, marry or kill him

WHY IS THERE NO "ADOPT" OPTION. Well, the choice is quite easy by elimination. I would NOT kill him (in case you had not gathered already) I would very much NOT fuck him (I really doubt he'd be interested in it either, so that works well for both of us.) Soooo... marry, I guess? That would be hella awkward, but eh, if I can't adopt him, might as well use the option that would vaguely allow to, you know, protect and cherish. Even so, it's hard imagining Yusaku settling like this.

Aaaaand I'm done and off to bed, three hours later than planned. Honestly, kudos if you've read until here. Before I sign off, please receive the cutest gif of Yusaku to thank you for bearing with me for the past 2k+ words of crying over this incredible boy who deserves better.

You know, maybe my OTP is actually Yusaku/hotdog. They do deserve each other.

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