#please return him to me. I need the real Gong back

[holly-fixation]

Fallen Silver: Ch 4

Summary: Sephiroth is MIA. Second Class Rhapsodos and Third Class Hewley are tasked with locating and finding him. The public does not know of this disappearance. No one was prepared for the truth. 

No one knew SOLDIER hung on by a thread.

Chapter 4: Relief

Inspired by @altocat 's and @rottenpumpkin13 's posts.

Please enjoy.

The heart monitor beeped at the occasional fluctuation of vitals. Oxygen levels remained steady, blood pressure nearly constant, heartbeat a perfect pattern while the patient remained unconscious. Every attempt to waken the man scattered all regulation to complete chaos. For his own safety, Genesis was strapped down before any attempt at a test took place. Some tests purely examined the floating rods in the Crimson Soldier’s eyes. Others proved the lack of connection between actual vision and what he claimed to see. Even a pitch black room held the phantom he critically begged to escape from. 

Twelve hours had passed. The fourth experimental cure was ready. Angeal was the only person allowed in the room as the doctors added the cure to the IV and weaned off the sleep medication. They left as the old friend stood in silence at the side of the bed. 

All Angeal could do was wait, watching the slow progress. 

The small movements of damaged hands, the soft scrunch of eyelids, the adjusting breath. Once beautiful mako blue eyes opened to the stain of dark rods slowly swimming in both scleras. “Angeal…?” The voice was hesitant, careful. 

“Hey Genesis,” He couldn't help the small smile, the small hope, from entering his voice. It was the first time Genesis recognized anyone physically inside the room. “How are you feeling?”

The redhead glanced around the room, every exit, every window, every potential weapon fully taken note of. Then he noticed the restraints and looked up at Angeal desperately. The rods in his eyes jostled with the movement. “You need to run. Get out of here before he comes back.”

“No one's coming after you-”

“He’s going to kill me. You have to save yourself, Angeal. I'll distract him as long as I can-”

“Genesis.”

He stopped. 

Angeal couldn’t be more thankful that his friend could finally respond. “It’s not real. Sephiroth isn’t attacking you. It’s an illusion. It was all an illusion.”

Genesis tried to move. “But my injuries-”

“Weren’t caused by him.” Angeal couldn’t tell his friend the whole truth. Not now. “Wutaians attacked in your confusion. Sephiroth dragged you back to our base.”

Mako blues blinked once. Twice. Thrice. “...I-” the rods stirred again, obscuring both irises. His head snapped to the door and he tensed. “Don't come any closer!”

“Genesis!”

“Leave him out of this! He's done nothing!”

The Third was given no other option, reaching for the closed, unlocked IV. 

“Don't! Stop it! Angeal, don’t listen to him!” 

Drops slowly slipped through the tube. 

He bit his own cheek, drawing blood and whipping his head as if taking a blow. 

“Angeal, please, you know that’s not true! Don’t listen to him! Don’t do this! Please don’t do-... don’t…… please…….” Genesis fell limp, his eyes closing to trap him in quiet darkness once more. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The nurses and scientists returned. The Third Class SOLDIER was sent away. 

Angeal leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly. He was so close to getting through, but Hollander still had no reliable cure. He didn’t think keeping Genesis unconscious for this long was safe, let alone another few days or possibly weeks if no cure at least brought him back to sanity. He should probably update Sephiroth…

Wait. Sephiroth. His head snapped up. He hadn’t seen the First since Genesis was strapped down. Where could he possibly be?

Hojo’s lab, of course. However, all his attempts to enter the highly classified laboratory were completely shut down. 

* * * 

Why wasn’t it working? 

Unbeknownst to Sephiroth, the cure for the toxin hadn’t been touched since the head scientist received the broken gong. He first struck it without any repairs, but the Silver Soldier showed no reaction. Sephiroth was left locked in the exam room as Hojo entered the cold storage containing various cell cultures: bacteria, viruses, and even the preserved Leviathan scales removed from the Hero of Wutai himself. 

The first true attempt was filling the crack in the gong with the scales and the same Wutaian bronze as the rest of the instrument. No effect. Then, after calling in a team of engineers, they attempted to extend the rivets and curves on the surface, matching every wave with scientifically perfect accuracy. Again, no effect. Hojo even requested a proper musician to strike the instrument, and though the resultant sound was exponentially better, Sephiroth showed no reaction, not even a wince. 

What were they missing?

Despite the frustration, a hidden experiment was also taking place. Sephiroth did not speak a single word since the promise of helping his friend. Hojo kept a simple notification ready for if or when the man decided to speak, perhaps even give hints about who or what he was talking to. Yet this experiment was also a failure as Sephiroth never allowed his thoughts to leave his lips again. 

In the days since Rhapsodos’s emergency return, both sections of the lab were useless. 

“I have a task for you,” Hojo stated as he entered the room, the addressed man not even turning his eyes in response. “Return to Wutai and retrieve an undamaged gong.”

Slit pupils met black glasses in bewilderment. 

“This will continue your progress on the front as we continue developing a remedy for Rhapsodos. Though I understand you cannot accomplish this task alone.”

He looked down like a guilty child. A failure. A disappointment. 

“So what will you require?”

After a breath, the Silver Soldier hardened, his eyes flicking ever so slightly as ideas ran through his mind. After a few seconds of silence, he responded, “Four Second Classes with confidential or higher security clearance. And Angeal.”

Hojo nearly groaned. “Him? What can that inferior Third possibly accomplish?

“He is the only one I trust to carry out the mission. We share the same motivation. He is the only logical choice.”

“And if Hewley is captured or gassed, what will you do?”

Another moment of silence. A small shake of mercury. “...I’ll follow my instincts.”

* * * 

The flight back to Wutai was silent. The director of SOLDIER informed all personnel of the First’s immediate return, saying the orders were completely above his rank. Sephiroth was granted the extra reinforcements he required. He had yet to discuss the plan with Angeal who already had dreadful feels about this sudden decision. It was difficult enough to leave Genesis in that lab, especially since both Angeal and Genesis refused to return until Sephiroth recovered. 

On the dawn after arrival, Sephiroth requested Angeal’s presence on a hill half a mile away from the latest claimed fortress. 

“What are you thinking?” Angeal questioned immediately upon reaching the location. 

Sephiroth breathed deeply. “Hollander won’t find a cure. Hojo claimed to aid the effort in return for finding an uncracked gong.”

Mako blue eyes widened.

The head of silver turned away.

“We’re doing this to take one back? Does he know what it did to you last time?”

“For Genesis’s sake, it doesn’t matter. Loathe as it is, I’m confident Hojo will identify a cure when he recreates the compound in his lab. I must personally deliver the gong to him as soon as possible.”

“What does he want it for?”

Sephiroth winced.

The Second glared. “Sephiroth. What does he want it for?”

“He’ll run experiments to find the cause of the feeling. Either I grow a resistance to it or Hojo develops a countermeasure,” His words were cold, detached. He flinched, shaking off another thought. 

“And what about the toxin?” Angeal tried to back the First into a corner, to force him into abandoning this incredibly dangerous plan before allowing it to leave his lips. 

“I’m resistant to it.” His eyes still contained the rods. There was no hiding the simple truth. 

“Not immune.”

“...No.”

“Then with all due respect, you should be nowhere near this mission when it begins.”

“I already have a plan.”

“Sephiroth-”

“I will lead the team of Seconds to the next outpost. They are already aware of the secrecy of the matter. I will distract the Wutaians and tell the Seconds everything they see me do is an act.”

“Our troops know that’s a lie.”

“Which is exactly why the team is new.”

“What will you do if they confront you about it? Or if the cadets let it slip?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Sephiroth’s expression hardened. “When I collapse, I want you and a team of scouts to infiltrate the outpost and retrieve the gong. Anything else you can accomplish will only be permitted if the gong is retrieved undamaged. We then claim the outpost if we can.”

“And what will you do when your ‘act’ ends with you losing consciousness?”

“I’ll tell them I must commit entirely. If Wutai in any way believes I am playing them, they will abandon the post and retreat with the payload.” He suddenly grabbed his head, trying to suppress a noise from escaping. He hunched, blocking his face with his bangs as he turned away.

Angeal’s frustration halted, reverting back to the kind hearted friend they both knew. “What’s happening? Sephiroth, is it the toxin?”

“I don’t care what happens,” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I don’t care what happens to me. This was my fault. I have to do this.” Slowly, hesitantly his posture returned. 

“I don’t like this…” 

“During my capture, how many times did you say that exact phrase to Genesis?”

“That’s different-”

“It’s exactly the same. We’ll make preparations now and leave at dusk. That’s the only way we can help him. It guarantees the payload is present and gives us a solid chance to claim it.”

“Taking risks on the field and torturing yourself are two different things.”

“It’s not that simple…”

“You keep saying that.”

“Angeal-” He cut himself off, turning away and curling in on himself, small, weak, afraid. He didn’t notice his friend whipping around to watch his face. “I have to do something right. I can do this, I swear.”

The Third softly pressed a hand to the black leather arm. He said nothing until Sephiroth relaxed into reality. “You’re not healed. How many times are we going to do this?”

“Until we’re all safe again!” Sephiroth’s snap silenced the discussion. Angeal hugged him, but it felt empty and cold. The silver soldier craved something the friend could never provide, but he did not know what. 

* * * 

The last orange glow of the sky dimmed as Sephiroth and the Second Classes approached the outpost. Though the Silver Soldier could feel the tension, confusion, and hesitation of the team following him, they dared not speak a word. He focused on forcing one foot in front of the other, despite his survival instincts screaming in protest against every wave of the toxin. 

He silently wished the Seconds would speak their mind. At least then something would distract him from the voice.

Even She failed to persuade him. 

Know that I am with you always. Cling to my words to spare yourself and your friends.

The moment the firelight of the outpost shimmered his silver hair, the gong rang and he collapsed instantly. The phantom strings of his heart pulled in every direction, desperately reaching for something to connect with even at the cost of agony. He curled on the ground, rocking and screaming without the comforting, fear awakened voice. His body grasped the needle like threads of desperation tightening around his heart like a noose.

No one remained to comfort his despair. 

Wutaian forces laughed, mocking the hero and raining down magic at the Seconds defending their fallen leader. 

After all, it was just an act, right? He’d get up soon? He’d save them if they were in danger?

On the other side of the outpost, Angeal and the small team of scouts slipped past the guards undetected. Inside, everyone seemed to be enjoying the show. They stayed low and quiet until the gong was in sight. 

The scouts claimed the gong and mallet while Angeal dispatched the enemy soldiers. At the muting of the dreadful instrument and the bright red target on all of their backs, the full force of Shinra’s troop attacked. 

All except the Silver Soldier who laid unmoving with Second Classes sworn to protect him. 

Hours passed before the highest ranking SOLDIER awoke. Only his Third Class friend waited for him. The cadets were scouring the outpost for resources while the scouts called in the payload back at the claimed fortress. 

Inhuman eyes opened, ebony rods finally flushed away. 

Angeal held out a hand. “You need to see this.”

Sephiroth took it and rose to his feet. “Lead the way.”

At the heart of the outpost stood a mausoleum. However, Wutaian culture would not allow a final resting place so far from any public gravesite, so perhaps it was only a front. Sephiroth’s assumption was proven correct as they opened the door, an ornate staircase descended, lined with patterns of silver scales, not a shred of gold in sight. He rushed down the stairs despite his instinct to run away. Stone and marble statues of the Wutaian water god constricted the room. Its scales surrounded them like a victorious snake. Altars, fountains, torches, candles, shackles, ritualistic weapons.

Beyond the silver, it was all the same 

“This was for Genesis…” Sephiroth’s words left breathlessly. 

“Two with one is unpredictable,” Angeal quoted. “They’re trying to take down the top three SOLDIERs.”

“Or all three of us.” Sephiroth met his eyes. “We promote SOLDIER. Even though you haven't made Second yet, if all three of us fall victim to capture or toxin, no one will enlist and the program will be deemed a failure.”

“And the Wutai’s war would finally end.”

Inhuman eyes fell. “Or Shinra creates a new weapon to destroy their entire country without a second thought. At least with the war, some of their people will survive...”

Something hid in that statement, but Angeal chose not to push. “Let’s head back to the fort. Get some real rest before transport arrives.”

Sephiroth nodded. “I’ll call in an excavation team.”

* * * 

The gong cured the toxin. That was what Sephiroth told both scientists when he arrived in HQ with the instrument in hand but lacking the black rods in his eyes. Hollander immediately attempted it without a second thought. Genesis did not react. However, neither did Sephiroth. Again the science department summoned a percussionist. Apparently the reaction required proper technique. 

Sephiroth watched through observation glass at the second attempt. In Genesis’s room, the musician rang the gong. The Silver Soldier fell to his knees, gloved hands clawing at the glass and uncontrollable groans leaving his lips. 

The Crimson Soldier remained perfectly still. One quick look from the scientists proved the instrument was a failure. Sephiroth was told to seal himself in an experimentation chamber before Hojo injected the lab-grown remedy. 

Of course, Hojo’s cure succeeded. Genesis finally came to, surrounded by scientists and nurses, not a single friendly face at his side. Sephiroth was long gone, and to Hojo, the less he knew the better. 

Within The Drum, Sephiroth paced, his arms crossed and his head down. Waiting. Preparing. Fortifying his emotions. Praying they could contain the resonant emotion. 

He glanced up at the observation chamber, some part of him attempting to see through the solid force field of indigo hexagons. He hopes the scientist would at very least reveal the instrument to him before the training began. 

Step by step he begged this to work. 

The chamber blocked out all natural light, adjustable fluorescent bulbs illuminating endless stasis. The pulse of the force field gave the illusion of measurement, subconsciously counted by the Silver Soldier. 

Mid step, the gong rang, and all attempts at resistance shattered as he clung to his own body, his shouts echoing off the walls. Any thought of progress and control collapsed. 

Hojo watched, fascinated and disgusted by the effectiveness. Sephiroth was stronger than some musical instrument. What occurred to cause such a reaction? Despite his desire to immediately take samples, he decided to indulge a different desire. He contacted his assistant and ordered them to find more musicians. 

How long could the First survive on his own?

.

.

.

.

To be continued…

Thanks for reading!

Chapter List

[dividedsingularity]

//Patapon 3 spoilers below and under cut AND in tags//

It devastated me. When that cutscene in Pata3 played before my eyes, when I saw what that Archfiend did with Gong, it made me so mad. At the entire situation, at my own men for releasing the things, at the Archfiend obviously (*kill*), even at Gong for falling for it, a little TT How could such a great person have been reduced to so little. to a pathetic jester whose every word evokes pity and laughter.

I do have hope, obviously, but the animation of how that mask works still absolutely terrified me like you don't just DO that to people what in the world. no

tl;dr under cut in meme format.

[reincarnated70sbaby]

linger

listen before you read!

robert plant xfem!oc

warnings : drug use, swearing, trucklot of angst ;)

word count : 2.1k

an: was listening to ‘linger’ by the cranberries and I couldn’t pass up this angsty idea I got 😎 timeline is off but yolo ig...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sloane leaned down to the table to take an extra line for her pre-performance nerves. She felt a little more nervous today, this particular concert being one of the largest yet. She was the front woman of The CAPs, who were opening for Led Zeppelin for their summer of ‘69 tour. This was exactly the break the band needed, finally getting recognition for all their talent and hard work over the last two years.

She applied a little powder to her face, and patted on her classic red lipstick to her slightly chapped lips. Securing the clasps of her platform red heels, she shook her body in hopes of shaking away her anxious jitters. Once she had finished her body-shaking ritual, she walked out from the wings of the stage.

As she walked across to centre stage, wind blowing through the holes of her white crochet dress. The crowd cheered loudly as the band waved to them.

“How’s everyone doin’ today? It’s so hot today, my boobs are sweating off!” She greeted the crowd with her bubbly nature. Adjusting the mic stand to her height, she continued to address the huge crowd. “Today’s set list will have a slight adjustment to it, we’re starting off with a new song I wrote just last night. It’s a little softer than our other music, so just sit back- or should I say lean back on the person behind you - and relax. This is called ‘Linger’ "

While she was speaking to the crowd, a teenage roadie ran onto the stage and placed a stool, for Sloane to sit on, and disappeared again in a heartbeat. The crowd, didn’t even take notice of the young boy, entranced with the tawny blonde singer as usual.

Sloane sat down, crossed her legs and nodded toward Rory, to begin. Rory started picking a simple guitar melody on his trusty Gibson acoustic, the first guitar he ever picked up. Sloane swayed lightly to the rhythm, eyes on the horizon above the crowd. Soon after, Marshall joined in with quiet, but strong beat on drums. At the same time, Oscar added the baseline to the song.

Taking a deep breath, Sloane began the song.

If you, If you could return, Don’t let it burn, Don’t let it fade, I’m sure I’m not being rude, It’s just your attitude, It’s tearing me apart, It’s ruining every day

I swore, I swore I would be true, But honey so did you, So why were you holding her hand? Is that the way we stand? We’re you lying all the time? Was it just a game to you?

Sloane sang gently, her eyes closed with a pained look on her face. She thought back to the day before, when everything fell apart.

———

“Sloane, honey, please tell me what’s wrong! You’re being so closed off with me today!” Robert pleaded, grabbing her hand while she was walking away. Sloane yanked her hand away and walked towards an empty storeroom in the hotel corridor.

“Don’t get any ideas, we need to talk privately” Sloane commanded as she entered into the storeroom. It had barely enough space for both of them to fit, being crammed full with towels and bedsheets.

“Please, love, jus’ tell me what’s bothering you, I wanna make you happy”

“Oh fuck off Robert, you’re so fake and a liar. These past couple of months have all been a lie!”

“What’re talkin’ about? I have never lied to you once”

“Seriously? ‘I’ve never lied to you’? Are you actually for real right now? Do you know what I just found out Robert? You’re fucking married! And she’s coming here tonight! You didn’t think I would deserve to know that!” She yelled, ignoring her previous statement about keeping this private.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared okay? I have never felt like this before with anyone else. All the groupies were just for sex, but when I met you I had fallen for you Slo, you make me a better person in every way”

“I don’t care how I make you feel, you’re still married! With kids! How would they feel if they found out their father was in a relationship with a woman other than their mother? I can’t believe you did this to me willingly, even after I told you what happened with my parents. That messed me up, seeing my father with another woman, and leaving my mother for her. Never seeing him again, choosing his new family over me and my siblings. That hurts me the most Robert, you knew my history and you ignored it!” Sloane cried out, tears falling freely on her face, running her dark eye makeup.

“I never meant to hurt you love, you mean so much to me. I just didn’t think- I never fuckin think, but I my feelings were so strong for you, I never thought about Maureen, I’m shamed to admit it” Robert plead, guilt weighing on his conscience. He reached out to wipe her tears away, but Sloane turned her head, the same pained look on her face.

“We’re done. I can’t stay with someone who could forget about their own wife and kids, and forget to tell their girlfriend that she’s actually a mistress. Goodbye” Sloane said, pushing her way out of the cramped closet, before running to the elevator at the end of the hall.

———

But I’m in so deep, You know I’m such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to let it linger?

Sloane sang emotionally, a single tear escaped her tear duct. She took the break for guitar solo to take a couple deep breathes, and to calm her heightened emotions down.

Oh, I thought the world of you, I thought nothing could go wrong, But I was wrong, I was wrong

If you, if you could get by, Trying not to lie, Things wouldn’t be so confused, And I wouldn’t feel so used, But you always knew, I just want to be with you

———

Sloane sat at the large round table, sipping her wine. The two bands had just completed all the concerts in France, and were having a celebratory dinner for the night. The lights were dim in the fancy restaurant, but Sloane could still see the heartbreaking sight of Maureen and Robert cozying up to eachother. She longed to be the one Robert was dedicated to, to be his Maureen, to be the one who sipped on his beer instead of her wine for a change, to rest her hand on his knee. She wished to be the one who would sleep with him in bed each night, without a worry of cheating or unfaithfulness. Her heart was also broken for Maureen, she was so inlove with Robert, as was he with her. She was also probably the greatest mother out there, being a single parent for a lot of the year.

Sloane switched her focus from the smitten couple, to Marshall and John Bonham's discussion on gongs, congas and all exotic drums.

Everything had been going so well, the concerts each night going to wonderfully, the bands got on great together. Even all the touring crew and management got on well with eachother. It was like one, big, slightly dysfunctional family.

Sloane wished she could vent to one of her bandmates about her case of ill fated love, but she knew if she told any of the CAP boys, tension would arise between the bands, and she simply couldn't bear to break the harmony.

“I’m sorry everyone, but I feel a bit ill and I think it would be best if I went to my room” Sloane announced, rising from her chair. She briefly locked eyes with Robert, before averting her eyes that threatened to fill with tears.

“Are you sure you’re okay Slo? I can come up and look after you if you feel faint or anything?” Rory asked genuinely, concerned for his little sister, he noticed she had been a little less bubbly than normal today.

“I’m fine Ror, I’ll think being on the go and travelling for the last couple of months has caught up with me. I’ll call you if I need you. Love you” she said, hugging him tightly.

“Love you, stay safe sis”

A chorus of goodbyes were heard as she left the table and walked out of the brassiere restaurant.

As soon as she entered her large room, she decided to clean up her stuff in order to distract herself. She folded all her clothes, tucked all her shoes into her suitcase, and cleaned up her makeup station on the vanity, placing the assortment of beauty products in the black makeup bag she owned.

After she was done cleaning, she ordered a couple bottles of wine, with some croissant from room service, taking advantage of the readily available French delicacies.

Lowering herself into the warm bubble bath she ran while waiting for her room service, her mind wandered to the whole situation, creating lyrics in her head. Luckily she brought her songbook, so there was no need to get out of the bath in search for it. She poured her heart out into the lyrics. After finishing the lyrics up, she soaked for a little longer, until she felt herself pruning and wrapped the fuzzy bath robe around herself.

She was about to turn off her bedside light to sleep, when she heard a light knock on the door. Her head scrambled, trying to figuring out who it was. Must be Rory checking up on me she thought. Opening the door, her heart skipped a beat at the visitor.

“Sloane let me-“

“Robert, please, I told you we were over”

“Will you let me speak, I need to talk to you”

Sloane stepped aside from the door, letting him in. She guided him to the seating area of the room, not wanting to risk being near the bed.

“Uh, d’want tea or something?” Sloane asked the blonde man, the air heavy with awkward tension.

“Yeah sure, love. That’d be great” Robert answered warmly.

“So, what do you want to say” Sloane asked, pushing his tea on front of him.

“Sloane, I’m sorry. I still do love you and I hate that I fucked everything up. I was just so infatuated- I still am, and I regret that I made you feel upset. I just want to say sorry”

“I- I still love you too Robert, it wasn’t just one sided, I really thought you were the one”

“Sloane, I don’t know what to say… If- if you ask me to, I will. I want you. I want to be yours.”

“Robert- I. I can’t do that. As much as I want to love you and be with you, I can’t be a homewrecker. I’ve seen the way you are with Maureen, you love her. I know in my gut that you’re better off with her. She loves you and deserves you 100%” Sloane’s face was wet with tears.

“Uh, okay. I’m sorry love, I really wish I didn’t fuck up our relationship. I really hope that one day we can be friends again, when you’re ready” Robert got up to leave, but was stopped when Sloane grabbed his hand.

“There’s a part of me that will always love you Robert. This was wonderful while it lasted” She spoke with a sad smile on her face.

Robert squeezed her hand in agreement, before exiting the room.

———

And I’m in so deep, You know I’m such a fool for you You got me wrapped around your finger, oh, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to let it linger?

Oh I’m in so deep, You know I still have love for you, My love has wrapped me round your finger, oh, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have? Do you have to let it linger?

The CAPs finished their song, and Sloane stood up to thank the crowd.

“Robert, darling, there you are. Was that singer at the dinner last night?” Maureen asked warmly to her husband, joining him in the wings.

“Uh, yeah, but she left early because of travel sickness y’know the sort” Robert answered absentmindedly, his deep blue eyes trained on the lead singer, who was preparing for the next song in the band’s set list.

“I must have missed her. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? I love that song she just sang, great voice” Maureen mused, admiring Sloane’s confidence , akin to her husbands.

“Yeah, yeah she is. She’s a beautiful person, inside and out”

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my first Robert fic!!! I’m more of a Jimmy girl, but I love the golden god too (Leo men <3)

as always, any criticism/ideas are welcome in my inbox or comments 🤍

tag list : @dreamersdrowse @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey ask me if you would like to be added!!

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 1

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

TW for this chapter: Mentions of suicide

I wanted to provide some ~variety~ so I'm doing another novel. I'll give a warning that the first few chapters are kind of intense and I'll keep the TWs updated as they come and put a TL;DR at the end if there's anything too graphic.

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 - The Beauty in Red

Song Qingshi is dead.

After his death, he came to in a strange space, and in the space, there was a sphere randomly flashing red.

The sphere said that he is a book-transmigrating system from a high-dimensional world. There was a xiania novel called "The Exceptional Furnace", which was about to be plagued by readers' resentment due to the tragic fate of the protagonist, causing problems in that world. It needed to find someone who is familiar with the tropes of these novels and someone with the power to change and repair the body and mind of the protagonist, and fulfill the readers' wishes - change the fate of the protagonist, dote on him, and let him live the happiest and most fulfilling life □□ □□□□□

The information in the system came intermittently, and in the □□ there were incomprehensible, alien-like characters.

Song Qingshi suffered from Lou Gehrig's Disease during his lifetime and devoted himself to studying medicine to try and save himself. He was a medical student who studied and experimented frantically every day and never wasted time reading novels.

In terms of emotions, he is even more obtuse. Although he is very handsome and has an attractive and obedient personality, due to his physical problems, even the school bully treated him like a precious thing. With all the excessive loving care and sympathy, not only did he never have a crush, but he also suffered from a slight fear of talking to strangers.

This was the worst soul for this task.

Song Qingshi didn't know how he was picked up by the system. He had read Marxist philosophy novels in vain. But from his messy information and analysis from the system's explanation, as long as he accepts the task, the system will send him to the virtual book world, give him a healthy body, and he will come back to life.

After Song Qingshi realized this, he was ecstatic. A healthy body is was his biggest desire. Not to mention the fact that the system only asked that he take care of someone. Even if the system had asked him to swim through seas of fire, he would have accepted still.

Because of this, he ignored his conscience, structured his response, and lied for the first time in his life: "I have read tens of thousands of books that I have memorized. I have extensive medical and nursing knowledge, have taken a psychology course as an elective, and I could solve all the physical and mental sufferings of the protagonist. And love. . . I have lots of experience with love, I know how to communicate, absolutely, I. . . can definitely accomplish these tasks!"

If there was any blood that could exist in a soul, he would definitely be flushed.

The system didn't notice his lies. It registered the identity of the task performer, and sent a series of garbled commands, mixed with all kinds of chaotic and disorderly information into Song Qingshi's mind, sending waves of discomfort through his soul.

Suddenly, the system let out a sharp alarm and the data transmission was cut off. Song Qingshi's vision went black, and his soul drifted away towards a bright white light. . .

. . .

When Song Qingshi woke up, he found himself lying in the woods, surrounded by the faint fragrance of various herbs. He squinted his eyes and looked towards the dazzling blue sky. There was a gorgeous golden luan bird dragging its long tail feathers, letting out a loud caw as it flew past, with countless immortal birds following it.

Was this the world from the novel?

It seemed too real. . .

A soft breeze blew across the forest, shaking off the dew on the trees. The dew fell onto his pale fingertips, bringing a slightly cool feeling. Then, all the memories of the original body flooded into his mind like a tidal wave, trying to merge with his own soul - this body was also called Song Qingshi, the master of the Medicine King's Valley, and the most talented medical immortal and pharmaceutical expert in the immortal world. His medical skills could heal the dead and revive bones, and the spirit pills he cultivates were considered treasures by every cultivator.

However, the original body's temperament was extremely troubling. He rarely left Medicine King's Valley at all, never made friends, and had no interest in matters other than medicine and alchemy. When a patient sought him out, he only looks at their temperament and never asked their identity. When he was in a good mood, he treated mortal beggars. When he was in a bad mood, regardless of the identity of the visitor, he would turn them into flower fertilizer for his garden. He often used living people to test medicines. Cruel, but because of his Nascent Soul cultivation base and various skills with poisons, the immortal sects didn't dare provoke him easily, only secretly calling him troubling behind his back.

Cultivators in the immortal world had long life spans, and the knowledge and memory of this original body had for its hundreds of years of cultivation had not arrived yet. Various data fragments of the system rushed in frantically, with countless garbled codes, tearing the original body's memory into a mess, leaving Song Qingshi at a loss. It took a long time before he managed to figure out his current situation.

This was Golden Phoenix Mountain Manor, the most luxurious place in the immortal world, where there are rare and exotic animals and countless immortals and beautiful concubines.

The owner, Jin FeiRen, was also a great Nascent cultivator. He was a true romantic, an excessive spender, and had friends from both the immortal and demonic cultivation world. He was a well-known figure.

The original body had always been cold, obsessed with his work, and never touched either men and women. Today's arrival was accidental. The Manor Lord Jin wanted to give him Ten Thousand Year Snow Ginseng to exchange a batch of medicinal pills for him. The original body had recently been lacking Snow Ginseng to make his medicines, so he agreed to the deal.

Since Snow Ginseng grows in the secret realm of the snow mountains of the Jin family. If you wanted to get the ones with the best medicinal properties, you needed to pick them at night and preserve it with a special refining method. Therefore, the original body came here to pick it personally, and Song Qingshi somehow ended up here.

Then, Song Qingshi was sent here by the system. . .

Where was the protagonist? What does he look like?

Song Qingshi wanted to ask the system to ask for more information, but the system seemed to disappear. The materials it sent not only contained no plot points from the novel, but also very little character information. There were garbled characters everywhere, even though the protagonist hadn't been introduced yet. Song Qingshi got dizzy going through all this information before he found some descriptions in the copywriting introduction: the best physique, unmatched beauty shou X□□□□□ gong, procured by trickery, sadomasochistic, □□, □□, □□ There were only three texts that could be read clearly: Banquet of Bea□□□.

. . .

If this were someone who often read these types of novels, they would immediately recognize that this situation was problematic.

Song Qingshi, however, didn't recognize any of this as problematic. He believed that this was a test given by the system to assess his reasoning skills and ability to do things. Song Qingshi was very accustomed to being assessed like this. Usually, when he and his teacher started developing a new drug, he often didn't have any prior results in his hand. It required some experimentation and to experience many errors and difficulties in order to reach the final result. Most of the time, that result was not what they were hoping for.

Many pharmaceutical companies invest billions or even tens of billions in drug research. Scholars have spent decades trying, right until their hair turned grey, only to fail during their clinical trials.

Therefore, every drug researcher is a strong man who has experienced many battles, repeated defeats and never-ending setbacks.

These questions from Teacher System were not difficult!

Scholar-Tryant Song expressed no fear! He will definitely find the correct answer and live up to the teacher's expectations of him!

Song Qingshi thought about the information he was given, determined the goal of the protagonist, and then quickly understood the key points of the novel: the protagonist will appear at the Banquet of Beauties, it will be a male, homosexual, unmatched beauty, superb body; a pitiful character with a tragic fate. He needs to save the protagonist, give him the greatest care, heal his physical and mental health, and then help him find happiness and joy!

During Song Qingshi's time, respect for sexual orientation was written into the law, and same-sex couples could get married.

He once found a novel lost by a rotten girl classmate, titled "His Evil Majesty's Spoiled Husband". On the cover was a handsome and domineering man in a period costume holding a beautiful woman with long hair with a super flat chest. He didn't understand it, and returned the book. When he asked curiously, his classmates told him what Danmei was, and told him that the beauty on the cover was actually male. The beautiful male was the "shou", and the domineering one was the "gong". So Song Qingshi is confident that he would easily distinguish between the gong and the shou in the novel. He would never mistake the gong as the protagonist.

He had thought it through and the direction of problem-solving has been determined. All that was left was to wait for the Banquet of Beauties to start the exam.

Song Qingshi's spiritual sea gradually became clear. The soul and body were merged and became flexible. He sat up with his hands cautiously, took off his shoes, raised his feet, and tried to stretch the toes that had been stiff for many years. The white and round toes curled happily. Song Qingshi stood up shakily, briefly walking forward a few steps with hands and feet before finally remembered the walking posture of a normal person, and his movements gradually changed from jerky to steady. . .

Under his feet was soft green grass and moist soil.

Outside the forest was a calm river. Song Qingshi stepped into the water and took a handful of cold river water to wash his face, confirming that he was not in a dream.

Tears fell out of extreme joy, and the big tears fell onto his palms. His hands couldn't stop no matter how much he tried. The river calmed down from the slight disturbance, and the reflection of the boy's figure appeared.

Song Qingshi was surprised to find that the body given to him by the system was very similar to his high school appearance; he was not very tall and significantly thinner. He wore a Daoist cultivator outfit made of many layers of snow-coloured cloud brocade, wrapped tightly around his body. At first glance, all the layers of clothing gave the illusion of a frail man.

His thin hair was simply tied up with some loose hair dangling freely. His appearance may be related to immortal cultivation. He is a bit more refined than his original body, with a cold, pale complexion and clear eyes. Because he often blocks out the world and focuses on his study, he feels a bit dull and extremely gullible, leading many unlucky ghosts to think that the original was harmless and would become the fertilizer or poison tester.

. . .

After Song Qingshi vented his emotions and saw the red-rimmed eyes in the reflection, he was a little embarrassed. He hurriedly lowered his head and fetched water, trying to wash away the tears on his face, but behind him came the sound of fine bells and ridicule.

"It's useless to commit suicide. It will only cause you needless pain. If you are still not reconciled, you can try and sink slowly to see if you can succeed."

Surprised, Song Qingshi turned around and saw the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his life.

There were trees full of peach blossoms, and under the tree was a beautiful young boy in red. Who knows how long he was watching Song Qingshi stupidly crying. The young man's appearance was blooming, like a scroll of rich colours and ink, painted with all the romantic colours of the world. The warm jade-like skin, the most beautiful thing about him were the dark golden phoenix eyes under the crow-feather-like eyelashes. He resembled a noble and dignified phoenix in the sky, but there was an extremely gorgeous red tear-shared mole under the corner of his left eye, desecrating his nobleness. The dignity of his appearance was crushed, and the phoenix rejoined the mortal world, turning into a creature stained with flattery and seductiveness which made people feel unbearable tempted.

His long hair was untied and hung casually around his waist. The ends of his hair were slightly curled, his feet were bare, and he was only wearing a red dress made of shark silk. The shark silk was as smooth as water, clinging to his body, covering all the desirables underneath.

Song Qingshi did not think anything blasphemous, but because he was caught crying, his social anxiety became more intense. After a long pause of building courage, he stumbled and said: "I, I just..."

His hesitation became reluctant approval in the eyes of the beauty in red.

There are dangerous monsters and birds everywhere in the immortal world. Cultivators were equipped with spiritual auras and keen senses, and can easily detect the wind and grass around them. Even the minor cultivators in the time they were establishing their cultivation base would not miss the sound of mortal footsteps with bells, let alone the Nascent Soul cultivators. If they release their spiritual thoughts, the smallest creatures on the mountain would not escape their attention. Except for Song Qingshi, a newly-born soul who had just arrived in this world, and was still very unused to spiritual power and these world conditions. . .

The beauty in red had completely misunderstood, thinking that Song Qingshi was also a mortal. There was only one use for such a beautiful mortal in Golden Phoenix Manor. He clarified: "A new slave?"

Song Qingshi looked up in amazement. He wanted to ask questions, but his eyes fell on the beauty of the red dress. There seemed to be some strange bruises on his neck as if it had been bitten by a mosquito, but it seemed that it might be something else. He took a few more secretive glances, trying to determine what they were.

The beauty in red noticed his curious glances and his heart grew upset. With growing malicious intent, a very gentle smile appeared on his face, and he said in a sincerely blessed tone: "Don't stare, you will have them soon, too."

Song Qingshi was very sheltered before transmigrating. He had never encountered malice and did not understand the mystery behind these words. Although he thought this blessing was a bit strange, he still answered politely: "Thank you."

The beauty in red choked hearing this answer. He was stunned for a moment. He looked at Song Qingshi up and down like a fool, and found that the person in front of him was clean and his skin was free of any injuries. He had never experienced the ravages of hell in his eyes. He was pure.

This discovery made him feel pity for the heart that had been tempered by suffering. He retracted his sharp malice and said softly, "After tonight, you will know that death is a luxury." He turned slightly to his side, looking at the river's flow. He warned, "When I first came here, I tried to commit suicide many times, but it was useless. We are slaves who are branded with the Acacia Seal. Our spirits belong to our master. So long as the master doesn't allow it, we cannot die, even by our own hands. . .

The beauty in red was silent for a long time. He slowly stretched out his hand and stroked Song Qing's hair that was soft as the fur of a small animal.

Song Qingshi saw several red rope marks on his pale wrists. He realized that this was pain that the beauty wouldn't want to be questioned about, so he pushed down his curiosity.

The fingertips of the red-dressed beauty slipped from his hair to Song Qingshi's delicate face, watching his innocent expression. He held his hand there for a moment before putting it down, conflicted. He didn't want to say any more. Since he didn't know those nightmarish experiences, it was useless to say anything more. Being able to preserve this kind of innocence, it was one more moment of happiness for him. Finally, he sighed, "You look good, but unfortunately the more your looks improve as you grow, the longer it will be until you're freed. . ."

Song Qingshi was puzzled: "What do you mean by 'freed'?"

"You'll know soon." The beauty in red's expression suddenly relaxed. He glanced around carefully, then stretched out his index finger and tapped his lips lightly. With a voice so light that he could barely hear it, he said ambiguously, "Tonight I will be freed. . ."

The beauty in red turned around with a smile and, with a crisp ring of the bells, turned to leave. His steps were a bit unstable, and each step was strenuous, like a mermaid walking on the tip of a knife in pain.

A pair of exquisite gold shackles were exposed on the beauty's ankles under the red clothes. Each of the shackles was decorated with an exquisite bell. The middle was connected by a slender golden chain. When walking, the bell shook slightly and made a clear and sweet sound, just like a tethered bird.

The golden chain dragged across the grass, and a few drops of blood dropped onto the green leaves.

Song Qingshi mustered up the courage to overcome his social anxiety, and shouted to the beauty who was about to leave: "Are you. . .injured? I, I know medical skills. . . Do you need me to treat you?"

The beauty in red turned back, looked at him for a few seconds, and he couldn't help but smile. This time the smile finally reached his eyes, like a ray of golden sunlight breaking through the clouds, dazzlingly beautiful. He shook his head towards Song Qingshi, and gave himself a sincere blessing: "I hope you have better luck tonight."

He turned his head, and the sunlight in his eyes disappeared in a flash, as if it had never existed, only the dark clouds that would not retreat.

Having endured these nightmares for years, he has long learned not to remember the kindness of others, and not to care about being offered charity from others.

He walked alone in this prison without stopping, step after step, wearing those painful shackles.

[theimpossiblehologramtree]

Making Queen members flower crowns would include

Pairing: Queen members x reader

Word count: (altogether) 1800+

Warnings: some sickening fluff, oh and swearing but that’s a standard, some slightly suggestive themes in john’s (implied sex) but nothing accually happens except a kiss

A/N: Hello you beautiful people! I’m back (don’t get used to that tho lol) I thought of this two years ago when i first saw Bohemian Rhapsody (SO 2 FUCKING YEARS AGO). Freddie’s is gender neutral. I tried to add a “keep reading” button but I’m not sure it works tbh because this hell of a side never cooperates.

Please keep in mind that English is not my first language.

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Gifs aren’t mine. Credits to the owners.

Brian May

You were laying on Brian's lap, the sun hitting your face pleasantly. This week the weather was nice and warm, which was something extremely unusual in England, so the two of you decided to head out to the country and have a little picnic.

After what felt like hours spent in the car ("Brian, for Christ's sake, would you open the bloody window, I can't breathe!" and "Bri, I love you, but if we don't get there in five minutes, I'm going to murder you, I swear") you finally found a nice clearing, where you could relax and forget about the stresses of city life.

Brian put down a blanket on the grass, near a small stream that flew through the forest. He brought the bag with food and drinks (you didn't have a basket, so you had to improvise). 

You quickly put some sunscreen on your face and laid down, keeping your head propped on Brian's lap. He put a hat over his face and fell asleep, his chest rising steadily. 

After some time (that fucking wasp didn't let you sit in one place), you stood up and noticed many beautiful flowers, growing on a nearby bush. You got lost in picking up the most beautiful ones, admiring each one carefully. When you got enough, you sat back down and started tying the stems together.

Suddenly you got an idea. Careful not to wake him up, you began sticking the flowers in Brian's dark curls. 

Your now decorated boyfriend woke up and stretched, not noticing the colourful addition to his hair. This made you chuckle softly, but you decided to see how long it would take him to realize.

+"What is it, babe? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, Bri, I just remembered a funny joke, that's all."

"Oh tell me, then."

"What’s the difference between a lawnmower and an electric guitar?"

"Hm?"

"You can tune a lawnmower!"

You both enjoyed the rest of the day swimming in the stream, sunbathing and eating the snack you brought. And Brian somehow still didn't notice.

Until it was time for you to get home.

You got in the car ("Open the window now, it's like in the oven in here!") and Brian looked into the rear-view mirror.

+"Hey, (Y/N), what the fuck is that? I love it."

Roger Taylor

So honestly it would probably happen during one of his concerts.

You were backstage watching the show, enjoying every second of it. Freddie was in the middle of shouting some (very inappropriate) compliments to Brian's ass, slapping his buttcheeks. The crowd immediately went wild hundreds of fans screamed in unison. You chuckled under your breath, flashing a white smile at your beloved boyfriend Roger and his bandmates. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. Surprised, you turned around, your eyes meeting Mary's.

+"What's up, kiddo?" she smirked and patted your back.

"Oh, nothing much. Just Freddie being Freddie," you replied, making both of you erupt with laughter.

Suddenly you felt a familiar feeling form in the pit of your stomach. Out of nowhere, your hands became shaky, your breath shallow and quick. Feeling like you need some fresh air, you excused yourself.

+"Are you sure you're okay, (Y/N)?" Mary watched you carefully, her hand supporting you in case you fainted.

"Yes, Mary, I just need some fresh air. I'm extremely tired, and I haven't eaten anything since this morning" you reassured your friend. "I'm just gonna sit outside for a while."

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked, still not convinced about your well-being.

"Yes, I wouldn't want to spoil the gig for you. I'll be back before you know it" you squeezed her hand and, after promising her to be careful, you headed outside.

You took a walk alongside the small patch of lawn beside the exit. After taking a couple of deep breaths, you noticed some daisies grow in the green grass. Without thinking much, you sat down and started picking them up and tying their stems together.

Your fingers worked quickly, making a beautiful flower crown, mindlessly.

Meanwhile, on stage, the boys were singing She makes me - a song that reminded Roger of you. He quickly glanced to his right, expecting to see your beautiful figure standing with Mary. But, much to his surprise, he couldn't see you anywhere. It was no secret that his eyesight was shit but, bloody hell, it wasn't that bad. His blue eyes were searching for you, frantically.

When the song ended, he quickly motioned to Freddie to take a quick break, while he went to check up on you. He practically sprinted to Mary, almost knocking down his drumkit and John.

+"You dumb fuck, watch where you're going, Rog!"

Usually, Roger would reply with some snarky comment, but at that moment he really didn't care. When he reached Mary, he didn't even need to ask her about you. 

+"She's outside. Needed some fresh air" the girl shooked her head towards the exit. 

Roger quickly walked outside, knowing that he couldn't stall the audience for too long. But at the same time, he must have made sure you were all right.  

He got out of the building and searched for you. He spotted to sitting on a small patch of grass, holding a pretty flower crown in your hands. His heart ached at this sight. 

+"Hello, love" he whispered, kneeling next to you. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am, Rog" you kissed his cheek. "I just felt a bit off, that's all." 

You felt your boyfriend press a kiss to your hair. You smiled at the feeling, leaning into his touch. 

You finally placed the finished flower crown on his head, brushing away loose strands of sweaty hair from his face, your hand gently brushing his temple. He took your tiny hands in his and kissed your fingers.

+"Do you wanna go back in there, sweetheart?" he asked sweetly, looking deeply into your eyes.

You nodded and pecked his lips, "Of course, Rog, I wouldn't want to miss any more of your show."

He smiled and lead you inside, placing his hand on the small of your back. You returned to Mary and wished your boyfriend good luck. 

Roger kept the flowers on his head throughout the whole gig, sending you a dashing smile and winking at you every now and again.

I just think Roger would look sososo pretty in a flower crown.

John Deacon

It was a lovely afternoon in London. You and your fiancé John decided to take a walk after the whole day in the studio, recording songs.

Taking a walk in a nearby park was a great way to destress and release the tension accumulated during the day. It was something John realized pretty early on in your relationship and took full advantage of it. He loved wandering along the pebbled pathways that swirled around beautiful trees and bushes full of colourful flowers. Being in the presence of nature made him feel at ease and helped him relax.

But the real reason why he enjoyed your walks so much was you. He adored seeing your face light up with joy when you saw a squirrel run up a branch of an old oak or when you spotted a particularly beautiful fish in the small pond. He could watch you pick up fallen leaves for ages and hear you talk to little kids in a playground, showing them the shiny rocks you collected along the way.

To be honest, he always dreamt about starting a family with you and seeing you get along with kids so well only increased that desire.

Often after a walk, he was in the mood™, which, considering his shy nature, always took you by surprise.

Oh man, he just loved taking a walk in the park.

And today was no different.

You were walking hand in hand, admiring the blossoming flowers. Occasionally, you would stop and pick them up, making a small bouquet in the process. White daisies, pink clovers and blue forget-me-nots accumulated with every step you took.

John was telling you about the new idea he had for a song, kissing your cheek every now and again.

Listening to him, you started to fiddle with the flowers, tying them in knots. After a while ("And then, I think, we could include a gong, you know?") you were done with your creation.

You put the flowers on John's head and kissed his temple.

+"What's that, darling?" he asked you, surprised.

"Nothing, but I think you look sensational, my love" you replied, smiling innocently.

You felt John's hand bring you closer to him. He kissed you, entangling his long and incredibly skilled fingers in your hair. The kiss soon turned into more heated one.

+"I'll show you how sensational I really am, pretty girl."

Freddie Mercury

So with Freddie, it was probably at one of his parties.

He invited you along to have a drink with him and his bandmates.

You usually weren't the one for big and loud parties, but he kept asking you and you gave in.

+"Oh okay, Fred, I'll do it," you said after the twentieth time he had asked you.

"Fantastic, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed, loudly clapping his hands. "Just remember to wear a costume."

But you didn't really want to dress up in fancy dresses or costumes from different eras. Calling Mary, you asked her for advice and she told you to just wear some accessories.

So before the party, you went to a small flower shop and bought a small bouquet of purple lilacs. At home, you made a flower crown, hoping that dressing up as a nymph would be enough.

When you got to Freddie's house, you were greeted by a crowd of people in colourful skirts and suits with fashionable patterns. That's when you found Freddie, Roger, Brian and John, chilling on a couch with their dates.

+"Oh, (Y/N), you look marvellous, darling!" exclaimed Freddie dressed as a king, while he stood up to embrace you in a warm hug.

"Thank you, Fred, I made it myself" you smiled shyly.

You got some champagne and joined the conversation.

Suddenly, you felt a pat on your shoulder, and, when you turned around, you saw Freddie holding out a hand to you, asking you to dance with him. You gladly accepted and got up. 

+"I really meant it, darling. You do look marvellous tonight" he whispered in your ear.

"Thank you, Freddie, you can have it if you'd like" you sent him a warm smile.

You took off his golden crown and set it aside. Gently taking off the flower crown from your head, you placed it on top of Fred's. He beamed at you and put his own crown on top of your head.

+"Now you rule here, darling."

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[dudeandduchess]

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: We and Us (Fluff, Time Travel AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: (Y/n) takes a vacation to Japan with her best friend and prays to meet her soulmate, only fate gives her a mile instead of an inch and she meets Rengoku Kyōjurō— the Flame Hashira in the manga that she had been reading. Right before his last mission, no less, so it’s up to her to save him.

Note: This is a mix of an isekai, soulmate, and time travel AU. I’ll try to explain things as best as I can within the story, but please take everything at face value. But if y’all have questions, please let me know. Enjoy, bbys!

(Y/n) will be the usual, but (F/n) will stand for Friend’s Name.

Also, a HUGE thank you to Biz for helping me out so much with this. Like seriously. I’ve hit so many blunders with writing this one out.

Warning: Mild Angst with Happy Ending, Manga/Movie Spoilers, Language

Word Count: 11,007

***

It was the same dream again; the very same one that had kept on plaguing (Y/n) ever since she had landed in Tokyo with her best friend.

She had only ever seen the scene in the Kimetsu no Yaiba manga, but it all looked so vivid in her mind. Too vivid, in fact, that it had unsettled her enough to have her sitting up in the double bed in the hotel room, that she and (F/n) shared.

For the third night in a row, the dream— no, the nightmare— had managed to reduce her to tears again.

Maybe she was crazy for feeling so much for someone who wasn’t real, but she couldn’t help her reaction. When she had opened her eyes, her face was already wet with tears— and no matter how hard she tried to wipe them away, they wouldn’t cease falling.

And, for once, she wanted to wake (F/n) up so she could get one of her comforting hugs— but she didn’t want to put a damper on such a momentous vacation for them. After all, they had saved up so much money just to afford going to Tokyo in the first place.

She wouldn’t ruin the next day with something that would fade away into nothingness later on.

But she would be lying if she said that it didn’t hurt to watch Rengoku Kyōjurō die over and over again— even if it was only in her dreams.

All she could do, however, was lay back down and curl into a ball to clutch one of her pillows close to her chest; burrowing her face into the fresh-smelling linen and trying to will away the haunting images that kept playing in her mind.

Her heart felt like it was breaking a million times over, yet she couldn’t exactly explain why that was. So, she closed her eyes and started counting— if only to get her racing mind to calm down.

Thankfully, sleep finally caught up to her; albeit restless and unfulfilling.

‘Don’t worry about me dying here.’

***

“You seem really off today, is something wrong, (Y/n)?” (F/n) asked as she nudged her best friend with her elbow, sending the other woman jumping a little in surprise; as if she had been suddenly shaken from some deep and all-consuming thought.

In response, (Y/n) forced a smile on her face and shook her head. She really did feel so drained, especially with a constant heaviness weighing down on her shoulders. Especially when she had stepped onto the small tram that would lead them to Setagaya; it was as if her chest had gotten so tight at some unknown factor that plagued her every waking move.

Not even the pretty hydrangeas that lined either side of the tracks were enough to make her feel better. And it felt like such a waste to be there, as the hydrangeas were what she had wanted to see the most.

“I just had a really weird dream last night. It was of Kyō dying…” (Y/n) admitted with a slight huff of a laugh, trying to make light of the situation with some humor— but she couldn’t say anything more as she felt her best friend’s arms wrap around her tightly.

(Y/n) had to admit that it was a little surprising, but she wasn’t entirely opposed to it; as it felt so warm and comforting, especially with the light drizzle of rain outside making the world look dreary and cold.

And slowly, she found herself grinning as she tried to push (F/n) off; before bursting out into a tiny fit of giggles when the arms around her only got tighter.

“Okay, okay, I feel better now. You can let go of me.”

With a laugh, (F/n) stepped back and patted the top of (Y/n)’s head, making the latter curl her upper lip at how playfully condescending that was. But it did its job in taking her mind off of her nightmare, which was all that mattered.

And so, with much a brighter mood, (Y/n) looked out of the tram window and giddily waited for their stop— so she could get a feel of what Kyōjurō’s hometown would have been like. After all, the databook had mentioned him living in Setagaya; so it was ticking off two nocks in one move, with her hydrangea sightseeing, as well as touring Setagaya.

When they got to their station, both women wasted no time in walking to the nearby temple— Tsurumaki Jisso-in. It was a really quaint place, but it felt so tranquil to step into; as if they were being transported through time.

Every step that (Y/n) took, she could feel her emotions beginning to bubble to the surface— feeling so light and heavy at the same time, like some part of her was being welcomed back to the place.

But that wasn’t the most unsettling instance for her; that was when she was deep in prayer already— thanking the gods for bringing her to Japan with her best friend, and for giving her such good fortune up to that day.

After all, she knew that she was luckier than most for just having the opportunity to have a roof above her head and three (or more) meals a day. Let alone the fact that she could have saved up to afford a very expensive trip.

If that wasn’t worth thanking the gods for, then she didn’t know what was.

“All I’m asking for now… is someone to spend the rest of my life with. Someone who’s the other half of my soul…” She prayed under her breath, bowing her head even further as a sign of humility, before adding, “Someone who will love me wholeheartedly forever.”

Shivers raced up her spine as soon as she uttered her wish, with some unseen force beckoning her to look up. And when she gave in to the urge to do so, the sight of a blond waiting a few paces away from her— with his hand stretched out towards her— made her absolutely breathless.

The vision didn’t last more than a couple of seconds, but she was sure that she just saw Rengoku Kyōjurō in front of her.

“It can’t be. I’m going crazy,” The young woman whispered to herself; bowing down once more, before strolling off to the side to admire the little stone statues that dotted the vicinity.

However, the heavy feeling on her shoulders had returned along with a headache. So, she decided that a short stroll around the area would do her some good.

With one last look behind her— to see that (F/n) was still engrossed in whatever prayer she had— (Y/n) deigned to just send her a text to let her know that she was going for a walk before finally taking the first few steps to get her around the place.

She couldn’t even hear the buzz of the town around them. No horns, or car engines, or even the sound of people filled the gaps of silence between the short gusts of wind that rustled the leaves of the plants around her.

If she were to be honest, she would say that it was relaxing; enough for a nap, even.

But she couldn’t do that when she and (F/n) still had so many places to go for the rest of the day. And, figuring that she’d been gone for long enough, she circled back to the pagoda— where, lo and behold, her best friend was nowhere to be found.

“I told her to wait for me here, tsk,” She uttered under her breath, huffing a little as she tried to fight back the heaviness and the headache that were only getting worse. “(F/n), you dumbass.”

She must have circled the entire vicinity of the temple thrice already, but her best friend was still nowhere to be found. And, around the second time that she had gotten back to the pagoda, she had pulled her phone out to call her— only to curse under her breath when she saw that it was dead.

It wouldn’t have been a problem at all, since she had her backpack with her— but when she checked the contents of it, she didn’t find the power bank that she was sure that she had packed in there that morning.

So, she circled the area once more— getting more frustrated at the pseudo cat and mouse game that she assumed (F/n) was playing with her— until she decided to check outside the temple gates.

Only, she couldn’t quite believe her eyes when an entirely different scene greeted her.

Instead of the asphalt road that she had walked on earlier, there was only a dirt road; which had her chest tightening with panic. Because she couldn’t have been on one of those prank shows she always watched.

But that was the only answer that she was coming up with, as her eyes took in the sight of the busy road in front of her. People were even wearing much older clothes; as opposed to the jeans, button down, and ankle boots combo that she was wearing.

“No, I swear to everything holy… (F/n), if you signed me up for a prank…” She hissed under her breath, swallowing thickly as she frantically looked at all of the people who were going on about their day.

A few gazes were aimed at her, but no one dared to approach her. And it wasn’t like she could simply stroll up to someone and ask them what had happened to the road— because, as it was, she only knew the basics of basic Japanese.

She would sooner make a mistake and ask someone where a gong was, instead of where the road had gone.

It was also at that moment that she realized that she shouldn’t have goofed off while learning Japanese; instead of telling (F/n) that she sucks tiny dicks, she could have used that time to learn some more useful sentences.

Panic was steadily beginning to set in, causing tears to spring up in her eyes as she clutched her useless phone in one hand. She couldn’t even muster up the strength to move from where she stood— the need to cry getting stronger with every passing second.

(Y/n) swore that she would wring her best friend’s neck if all of that ended up as a really unfunny prank. But it seemed that it wasn’t a prank at all, as no one yelled ‘cut’ and not one camera person stepped out to capture the sight of her tears beginning to fall down her face.

Slowly, her panic began to really set in, as she gripped her phone even tighter in her hand— pushing herself to turn on her heel to march back into the temple and try to look for (F/n) in every shrub possible; only, the breath was knocked out of her when she ran smack dab into something.

Or rather, someone.

Red-tinted irises flickered down at the peculiar woman, lingering on her tear-stained face, before they took in the strange clothes that she was wearing.

The strange woman’s clothes weren’t what had the Flame Hashira’s curiosity piquing, however…

It was when her eyes widened with what seemed like fear and genuine shock, before she whispered, “Kyōjurō?”

All that, before promptly passing out— thankfully, in his arms. Otherwise, she would have suffered a painful bump to the head.

“Ani-ue? Do you know her?” Kyōjurō readjusted his hold on the woman in his arms, then looked down at his side to answer his brother with a smile.

“I don’t, Senjurō, but she knows me.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Take her home,” The Hashira’s answer sounded so simple, as if it didn’t have to do with taking a virtual stranger home— one that looked so weird, with a glossy and flat brick at her feet. Because really, his curiosity was extremely piqued; especially with how he felt his heart skip a beat when she mentioned his name.

He wanted to know why exactly that was, when he had never felt something so… unexplainably warm and pleasant in his entire life.

As if he had just begun to really live.

***

“Is she awake yet?” Kyōjurō asked as he slid the shoji open and poked his head inside the guest room. He had been training beforehand, but had practically breezed through the rest of his shadow sparring routines because his curiosity got the better of him.

All throughout the afternoon, he couldn’t quite get his mind off of the strange woman who was sleeping in his home; and it wasn’t even the fact that she knew him that baffled him.

It was how he felt so attached to her already— as if, by some invisible force, something tethered him to her.

And that was how he found himself padding through the house; pacing up and down the halls at first, weighing the merits of seeing her already— without washing all of the sweat off of him first— as opposed to just making a beeline for her room and checking up on her.

However, he went with the former choice: bathing first, before going to see her. After all, he wanted to make a good impression, and he couldn’t do that when he smelled like the sun and lots of sweat.

“Not yet, ani-ue,” Senjurō answered softly, sending his older brother a smile, before reaching up to feel the unknown woman’s forehead with the palm of his hand.

She didn’t have a fever, but she was still unconscious, which worried the younger Rengoku a lot. He may not have known her, but he was so naturally kindhearted that he didn’t want anyone getting hurt— especially when they were under his care.

Kyōjurō sighed quietly— more out of disappointment than anything else— as he padded into the room; closing the door behind him, as he let his gaze fall to the unconscious woman on the futon.

And that was when the foreign feeling of his stomach feeling so empty yet full at the same time— as his heart began to pound faster in his chest— fell on him. He barely even managed to restrain the urge to reach up and rub at the spot where his heart was.

Though, slowly, he walked towards her and sat down next to where his brother sat— not once looking at anywhere but her and her sleeping face.

Kyōjurō had to admit that she was quite beautiful, even with that slight furrow in her brows. But, before he could stop himself, he reached out and gently smoothed the crease down with the pads of his fingers.

Unbeknownst to him, a small and warm smile had tugged up at the corners of his lips; which had Senjurō looking between the Flame Hashira and the stranger.

He didn’t want to make assumptions, but he could feel that there was something divine at play with their situation. Especially since the woman looked like she didn’t belong in their country, nor did she belong in their time.

It wasn’t until night had fallen that the brothers saw her stir awake, and they immediately waited with baited breath for her to open her eyes. But when she did open them, they immediately widened as she bolted upright on the futon— scooting away from the Rengokus and dragging the blanket closer towards her chest.

As if that would protect her from a Hashira.

“I have to be dreaming,” (Y/n) whispered frantically, curling her fingers around the blanket and bringing it up to shield her face from the pair in front of her; then brought it back down after a few seconds, to check if they were still there.

Lo and behold, Kyōjurō and Senjurō were still looking at her; which prompted her to do it twice more, until the older of the two tugged the blanket out of her hands and scooted closer to her.

(Y/n) wanted nothing more than to scream at that moment— both with fear and various other overwhelming emotions— but she bit down on her tongue and held it in. On the off chance that it was all some elaborate prank, she didn’t want to make even more of a fool of herself.

“Your name,” Kyōjurō began, letting his curiosity get the better of him as he gave in and jumped into interrogating her already. After all, he had been waiting all afternoon for her to wake up. “What’s your name?”

Hell, he had even pushed back the time for his nightly patrols in case she woke up. Because he wanted to be there when she opened those breathtaking eyes of hers; ones that widened in surprise at his question.

Thankfully, (Y/n) caught his words with very little difficulty.

“(Y/n)…” The young woman breathed out, completely enamored by how close those fiery eyes were to her face. She had only seen them in her dreams, and to have them look so real… it was a dream come true; even if she was sure that she was only hallucinating.

Since there was no way that a manga character could be real.

“I… I mean… (L/n) (Y/n),” She stammered out in the choppiest-sounding Japanese that she had ever uttered. It was even worse than when she had asked someone for directions in the street the day before; making her want to snatch the blanket back and hide under it until the burning in her cheeks subsided.

“(L/n) (Y/n),” Kyōjurō whispered under his breath, feeling his lips tingle as a smile tugged up at the corners of his lips— for some unknown reason. The name was so foreign on his tongue, and he had pronounced it differently than she had, but it still had his heart fluttering inside his chest. “Earlier, you mentioned my name. How do you know me?”

That had all of (Y/n)’s thoughts coming to a standstill inside her head, stumping her until she could feel her right eye twitching with her discomfort. After all, she couldn’t very well tell him that he was a fictional character in a manga— one that she cared for immensely.

But she also knew that she wouldn’t be able to explain why she was there in the first place, if she lied to him. That, and something told her that Kyōjurō would willingly hear her out, and even accept what she was going to say.

He would be a little skeptical about it, but she knew as much as he did that no one would be able to explain exactly what had happened.

So, to the best of her ability, she wracked her brain for all of the Japanese words that she had learned, and began to explain in choppy sentences. “I’m not from here. I’m from the future… and this is a manga.”

The Hashira’s eyebrows furrowed at that, and he was about to open his mouth to speak, when Senjurō reached out to lay a hand on his forearm.

“Maybe we should hear her out first, ani-ue?”

Those words prompted Kyōjurō to look over at Senjurō, before scooting back to sit next to his brother, and letting go of the blanket that he had unceremoniously snatched from their guest. Part of him had his defenses raised, and wanted nothing more than to get things over with— but another, much bigger part, had him wanting to sit there and listen to what she had to say.

All night long, if he had the leisure of doing so.

And so, with her choppy Japanese, (Y/n) went on to tell the Rengoku brothers everything that had happened since she had arrived at the temple in Setagaya, and everything that happened between that and fainting in his arms; with the last bit making her blush profusely, while she looked away.

Surprisingly, Kyōjurō found the flustered expression cute on her… but what threw the young man even more for a loop was his reaction: stifling a smile, as his cheeks also warmed up with a blush identical to hers.

Never in his life had he been flustered like that; which was made even more intense with the butterflies fluttering around inside his stomach. It was a foreign feeling, but something that he welcomed… because it was something nice and warm.

Something that he knew he had been missing all along.

“And that’s how I ended up here. I was just looking for my friend...” (Y/n) implored softly, letting her gaze flicker between the two blonds in front of her. “Do you believe me?”

She then waited with baited breath for Kyōjurō’s answer, staring intently at him, and sighing when he minutely nodded his head. “Parts of your story explain things, so I’ll believe you… for now.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll take that.” (Y/n) smiled at him, feeling extremely comfortable under his gaze for once— only to feel her breath catch in her throat when the Hashira returned it with a much brighter one than hers.

If he kept smiling at her like that, she might just traverse time and space again— what with how surreal it looked.

Both of them seemed to be stuck at a standstill then, with their eyes not once flickering away from the other— as their smiles tapered down into smaller ones.

All the while, Senjurō could only look on with a hint of a smile tugging up on his cheeks; because he had never seen his brother ever look so interested in a woman before. And maybe, just maybe, he’d finally found the one who was going to take care of his heart.

“Ani-ue, I think it’s time for your patrols now,” The younger Rengoku began with a mirthful tone, popping the invisible bubble that ensconced the pair with him.

That had the Hashira sitting upright even more, shoulders stiffening as he picked his sword up from beside him and immediately got up. He had completely forgotten that he had to do a patrol of the area, just so everyone under his jurisdiction could stay safe.

However, he felt a little reluctant to leave his guest just like that.

“Let’s talk more tomorrow, (L/n)-san,” He bid then, biting down unsurely on his bottom lip when he realized just how forward he sounded— but not doing anything to retract the statement.

Because he had to admit, he wanted to talk to her more; get to know her. All of her.

To his utter shock— and pleasure— he saw the young woman nod at him, before uttering words that had his heart practically jumping out of his chest and gracing all of them with its presence.

“Stay safe, Kyōjurō… I mean, Rengoku-san.”

It was safe to say that all throughout his patrol, Kyōjurō’s mind always drifted back to the intriguing woman that had literally and figuratively fallen into his arms.

***

When morning finally came, it was to hear nothing but tranquil silence within the Rengoku household. There was the telltale chirping of birds outside, and the soft din of people chattering as they passed by the house— but it seemed that everyone was still asleep within the estate itself.

But (Y/n) was proven wrong when she heard three soft knocks outside of her room. “(L/n)-san? Are you awake?”

It was Senjurō, to whom she answered that she was awake and that she could come in— in the most chipper voice possible. She couldn’t help it, there was just something about the youngest Rengoku that made her all smiley and happy; like he was a bright ray of light in a dark and dreary world.

Much like how Kyōjurō was.

“Good morning, Senjurō-kun,” She greeted with a smile, quietly taking note of the change of clothes that was in his arms. They looked extremely nice; red, with black and gold embroidery, from her vantage point.

“Ani-ue got these for you earlier this morning… as soon as the shop opened,” Senjurō admitted with a soft, and teasing, smile; one that had (Y/n)’s cheeks flaring red at how sweet the gesture was, and how she just knew that a little boy was poking fun at her for making it so obvious that she liked his older brother.

Because, really, from how she had made moony eyes at him last night— there was no denying that Senjurō knew just how attracted she really was to Kyōjurō.

Thankfully, the younger Rengoku didn’t push his teasing more than that— opting instead to hand her the clothes, so she could get ready for the day.

It had taken a while for her to get herself done up in the kimono, but she eventually padded over to the shoji and poked her head outside, calling out softly, “Senjurō-kun? I’m done.”

When there was no answer, (Y/n) waited unsurely by the door for a little longer, until she felt awkward just standing there. So, she closed it once more, then padded over to her futon— folding everything up like she had seen in all the Japanese dramas that she had seen— and then moving towards her bag, that had been left a few ways away from where she had been sleeping.

She then rifled through the contents, sighing in relief when she found her passport and her wallet still in there— along with her phone, which had a few cracks on the screen.

“Fuck, that’s gonna be a bitch to use,” The young woman muttered in her native tongue, clicking her tongue in mild irritation as she tried to turning it on again.

No luck, however, which had her throwing it back in her bag and setting it back down on the floor. After all, she sincerely doubted that she would be able to use her paper bills and card to pay for anything in that era.

She was basically nothing more than a sitting duck, unless she stuck close to the Rengokus until she could figure out how and why she was even there in the first place. But those thoughts were put to a halt when she heard Kyōjurō’s telltale laughter from outside the house.

And, before she could stop her feet, she had already padded over to the shoji that led to the yard and had slid it open a tiny bit— peering outside with one eye, before opening the door a little bit wider to poke her head out.

“Kyō- Rengoku-san?” Tiptoeing out onto the engawa, (Y/n) looked left and right to see where his voice was coming from; and it wasn’t until she was standing at the end of the platform, while holding on to a beam, that she saw the familiar head of blond hair that she had been looking for.

Just in time, as well, because Kyōjurō saw her during pretty much the same moment— and the brighter and warmer smile that played at his lips was close to inevitable.

The Hashira felt his heart skip another beat in his chest, as he halfheartedly excused himself from the Kakushi that he had been talking to. And with a few quick strides, as well as a little vault up onto the engawa— to show off a little for the object of his affections— he greeted, “Good morning, (L/n)-san. Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you… for your hospitality. For the kimono, and for believing me too…” Her words were choppy at best, but the Hashira picked up on all of that she wanted to tell him— making his grin widen even more, until it was so bright that it was even more breathtaking than before.

Truly, no one could say that Rengoku Kyōjurō wasn’t quite the looker. Because he was.

“I just… saw it at the shop and thought of you,” The young man chuckled bashfully, even going as far as to lift a hand up to the back of his neck and scratch at it in such an adorable manner. “It looks really, really good on you.”

Partnered with the blush on his cheeks, (Y/n) was sure then that her heart was going to get tired sooner rather than later from beating so fast and hard in her chest. “Thank you, Rengoku-san.”

“Kyōjurō.” That had (Y/n)’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but even the man himself wasn’t sure what had come over him at that moment. All that he knew was that he wanted to hear her keep saying his name; his given name, like she had before. “You can call me Kyōjurō.”

Her answering smile was so beautiful that the Hashira had to resist the urge to cup her cheeks in his hands and… he didn’t even want to think about what he would have done to those alluring lips of hers.

“Okay, Kyōjurō,” The sound of his given name rolling off of her pretty lips had those butterflies fluttering around inside his stomach again, which only intensified when she added, “You can call me (Y/n).”

Meanwhile, Senjurō was looking at the couple from inside (Y/n)’s room; as he had just come back to get her to have breakfast with him. But the development that he had come across had him stifling a giggle, because the pair looked absolutely adorable out on the engawa.

Both of them flustered, barely a few feet away from each other, and making such moony gazes at each other— which they were oblivious to. It confirmed the younger Rengoku’s hunch that his brother might have finally found the woman for him.

Someone that he would love and cherish forever, and vice versa.

He almost didn’t want to cut in their little moment. “Ani-ue? (L/n)-san? I made breakfast for all of us.”

At the sound of Senjurō’s voice, both Kyōjurō and (Y/n) stepped away from each other; like the spell around them was broken, much like what had happened last night. And the younger Rengoku regretted having done so because, if he were to be honest, he would say that he just wanted his brother to be happy.

***

“What should we do today? Should we ask around if anyone knows anything about traversing time?” Kyōjurō offered as he set down his cup of water, looking over at (Y/n) and automatically smiling at her— a small one, but a smile all the same.

“Wouldn’t that be too… weird?”

“You have a point,” The Hashira laughed then, crossing his arms over his chest and wracking through his head to see what solutions he could offer to his cute guest.

And that had nothing to do with wanting to impress her even more. Nothing at all.

With that, however, both of them settled with retracing (Y/n)’s steps before she had jumped through time and space— going back to the temple near Kyōjurō’s house, and trying to look for any indicators that there had been something awry at play.

But there was none; not even a suspicious looking crack in the ground or any trees that could have served as some portal to another reality.

There was, however, a headache coming on for (Y/n). Especially when she came closer to the pagoda in the middle of the sacred grounds. It was as if it was the source of her affliction— which wouldn’t be far off from her own guess that what she was doing there was somehow tied to the wish she’d made to the gods.

The wish where she’d asked to meet her soulmate; someone who would love her wholeheartedly forever. And she couldn’t think of anyone else that she wanted to fit the bill more, than Rengoku Kyōjurō.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

Kyōjurō’s words had her snapping out of her reverie; shaking her head a little, as if to shake off all of those thoughts, before turning to him. “I just… headache.”

Her words had absolutely escaped her then, since the sight of him reaching out to her was reminiscent of the vision that had flashed in her mind yesterday; just before she had been transported to his time and reality.

And to her absolute surprise, he pressed his fingers to the middle of her forehead and gently smoothed out the space between her eyebrows. She hadn’t even realized that she had been furrowing them in the first place, and that action had her blushing beet red; all the way up to the tips of her ears.

“You don’t need to frown that much, you look prettier with a smile,” The young man complimented quietly; for once abiding by the tranquil atmosphere at the temple.

That, and maybe because he wanted her to be the only one who heard those words; as they were specifically for her alone.

Slowly, he retracted his hand from (Y/n)’s forehead, and steadily tamped down the urge to pull her in and finally have a taste of those lips of hers. It wouldn’t have been a polite thing to do in such sacred grounds, in public— no less.

“Why don’t we talk a walk around the town instead? To give you some reprieve,” The Hashira offered with a smile. “And then we can come back here tomorrow to look for more information…”

Part of him wanted to jump the gun and tell her that she could stay with him forever, but even he knew that that was too forward. They had just met yesterday, after all; and she had told him that his reality only existed in a manga.

If that wasn’t the premise for something tragic, he didn’t know what was. And even though he was so tempted to give in to his budding feelings, he couldn’t put that much pressure on her.

It was true that she made him feel so much— so many good things that he didn’t even think he could feel about someone— but he also had a feeling that, sooner or later, she would want to go back to where she came from.

He didn’t want to be the cause of tethering her down there; especially not when demons were running rampant around the country.

But damn if he didn’t want to keep her with him forever.

Just a day and he was already in so deep; he was both excited and apprehensive of how much deeper his feelings would get for her the longer she stayed there.

Little did he know just how much she would come to mean to him.

***

“Kyōjurō? It’s time for breakfast!” (Y/n) called aloud, before banging the wooden spoon against the pot in her hand— letting the Flame Hashira know, in not so many words, that he should get out of his room then.

It had already been a few months since she had arrived in the Taisho era, and she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t worried about what was happening in her own timeline and reality— but there was realistically nothing that she could do about things.

So, she slowly started to accept the fact that she was stuck there. Not without worrying nightly about how her best friend was doing, and how her family was faring along. She still thought about them and constantly thought about ways that she could possibly get back home, but her efforts weren’t as valiant as before.

Especially since things with Kyōjurō had taken a more… romantic turn.

They had never said anything to confirm their feelings, but it was evident in the way that Kyōjurō would cup her face and hold her hand in private, that he felt the same way that (Y/n) felt for him.

It had been really surprising when he had first taken her hand, mostly because he had done so abruptly during the rare dinner when it was only the two of them eating. Hell, she had almost spilled her food when Kyōjurō just reached out and practically slapped his hand down on hers.

Thankfully, he had gotten gentler over the months, and he had learned to slowly slip her hand into his instead; which never failed to make (Y/n)’s heart flutter— each and every time.

The mere memory of his warm and rough hand enveloping hers had her smiling and blushing, as she set the bowls of food down on the dining table set for three people. Shinjurō never ate with them, and it wasn’t that he didn’t know of her existence— he knew, yet he preferred to stay in his room instead.

So (Y/n) had no idea what the Rengoku patriarch thought about her, or her relationship with his son.

She had been so deep in thought that she didn’t even feel the Hashira’s presence in the room; not until Kyōjurō sat down beside her.

Kyōjurō’s eyes zoned in on the young woman’s left cheek, as he had been doing since he had entered the room a few minutes before. He had been planning on kissing her for a long time, yet he always chickened out at the last minute— so he resolved that day, that he was going to do it.

Or he was going to double his morning exercise routine, as a form of punishment.

“Good morning, (Y/n).” He had been doing so well with his efforts too, what with him leaning in to try and brush his lips against her soft cheek— only for her to turn towards him when he had placed his hand on her back.

And, in a turn of events that he could have only dreamt of until that point, his lips slanted against her in a faint kiss.

Immediately, both their eyes widened in surprise, yet they remained frozen in place; both of them not knowing where things were going next. Not until the Flame Hashira decided to jump in and pull her in further against him, all while pressing his lips harder against her own.

She was so warm, his lips were tingling slightly at the feeling of kissing her, and he wished that the feeling would never end— as he fought off the urge to completely melt against her; along with tamping down the voice in his head that told him to pull her onto his lap and claim her lips thoroughly.

But, at the very last second, he slowly pulled back from her and took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse. He didn’t want to rush her into things; that wasn’t how he was raised.

After all, he wanted to marry her first.

The thought of marriage didn’t even faze him, since he had been considering it a few months after knowing (Y/n). Kyōjurō wanted nothing more than to ask for her hand in marriage, to show her that he really would cherish her forever if she chose to stay with him, but there was still the matter of her not being from that timeline that held him back from doing so.

When before he hadn’t wanted to hold her back from wanting to return to her own reality, he was beginning to succumb to the selfishness that brewed within him.

If given the chance to keep her forever, he would take it in a heartbeat.

“I…” (Y/n) whispered, face completely red and a little bit winded, as she lifted a hand and gently pressed her fingers against her lips.

Finding her shyness extremely cute, the Hashira’s lips pulled up at the corners into a grin— as he pulled a little bit away from her; if only to see more of her adorable expression. “You’re so beautiful.”

Those words only served to shock the young woman even further; eyes widening in surprise, as they flickered up and stared into those piercing red and yellow irises that she had come to love even more.

Much more than she did, than when she had thought he was nothing but a character in a manga. And so much more than she had loved any other person.

It was almost scary how much she loved and cared for Kyōjurō.

So, it absolutely tore her heart when she heard that he had been called to Oyakata-sama’s estate later that afternoon, which had her heart sinking to her stomach. It never boded well for her whenever Kyōjurō went away on missions, but to know that what she had been dreading was unfolding right before her eyes once more— for real, that time— had her feeling weak in the knees as she waited for Kyōjurō at home.

Only, instead of seeing her beloved walking through the gates, she saw his crow flying overhead— with a letter tied to one of its feet.

Her heart sank at the mere sight of it, and even more when she unfurled the parchment to see a letter that told her that he would be back in a few days.

That he just had to deal with a demon, and that he had to take the long-haul train to find it.

“No, no, no, no,” Her breaths came in shallow bursts, and her heart had felt like it had stopped inside her chest. Still, with her entire body awash with a cold and crippling kind of fear, she forced her legs to take her to the room that she had been given within the estate.

Once there, she fished out the pouch where she kept the money that Kyōjurō had been giving her— so she could buy things that she wanted— and didn’t even bother to check in with Senjurō before she left.

(Y/n) couldn’t tell him, because she would make sure that he had nothing to worry about. She would make sure that Kyōjurō lived, because she couldn’t take losing him again— and on a scale that was real, that time.

Reading about it was a different kind of pain, but experiencing it would make her crazy.

He had become such an important person to her, that to lose him would equal to her losing herself. So, that was how she found herself setting off to follow him to the train station.

Unfortunately, she had no clue where it was; nor could she ask anyone for directions— as most people shied away from her. With her being a foreigner and all, most of the locals had taken to simply ignoring her because of Kyōjurō; and it pissed her off to no end that she they wouldn’t even look her in the eye.

Kyōjurō and Senjurō had been the only ones to accept her wholeheartedly into their home, and she couldn’t be more thankful for that. Albeit a little suspicious about the gods once more playing a hand with how she had come across them, because there was no way that it was pure coincidence that she had traversed realities the same day that he decided to visit the temple on a whim.

Had she not come across them that day, she didn’t even know where she would have ended up.

And with that last thought swimming in her head, she straightened her shoulders out and took in a deep breath before soldiering on to where she had once had Senjurō mention the train station.

If memory served her right, and if she understood him correctly, then she would get there with about twenty minutes of walking.

“Why isn’t Uber a thing here?” She whispered under her breath, huffing as she fanned herself with her hand and started power walking towards where she guessed the station was.

Only, she had made a wrong turn at one point— and had to retrace her steps to the main road; where she then tried her hardest to make out the characters from ‘station’ on the sign boards and flyers that she had passed by.

And after an extra half hour, she had finally arrived at the station; met with so many people falling in line to get tickets for the first and only train that was leaving for the day. She almost wanted to tell people not to buy any of the tickets, and tell them to go home, yet she was but a tiny speck in a sea of people.

A foreigner, no less; so, the chances of anyone taking her seriously were nil.

Part of her was tempted to tell Kyōjurō about it, but she didn’t want to alert the lower moon demon controlling the train about her knowledge of things; as that would only put her at the forefront of his kill list, and would most likely put more people in danger.

She had to be smart about things, so she hatched a quick— and half-cocked— plan to hide in the last train car until she was sure that the train conductor was back out towards the first train car, before she snuck in to save Kyōjurō and the others.

“Oh thank all the gods that I took this part to heart,” The young woman whispered once more, as she looked down at her ticket and conveniently threw it in the trash bin.

She wanted to hop in the train car that her beloved was on, if only to see him safe and sound— and eating his mountain of bento box meals— but bypassed that car quickly as she hastened to the last one.

And, with one look behind herself as the train whistle blew, to see if the coast was clear, she hopped on the platform to the cargo hold and quickly snuck inside the dark and stifling car.

As nervous as she was, her heart pounding wildly in her chest was something she expected; what was weird was the tightness that came with it. It was suffocating, and beginning to weigh down on her shoulders, yet she shook the feeling off in favor of finding a trunk that wasn’t stacked up to sit on.

Once she was situated nicely— just in time too, as the train began to lurch forward— she began to run through all of the manga panels in her head. She could only vividly remember the part where Akaza appeared, as that part was such a painfully memorable one, but the few flashes of the train panels helped her gauge the timeline.

Plus, it also helped her bide her time; calming her racing thoughts a little, since she knew that Kyōjurō and the others would be able to handle the demon with little to no problems.

Once she heard the train’s whistle, she took that as a signal to get up from her perch on one of the trunks— making her way towards the steel door that led to the other cars.

Only, when she tried to turn the knob, it was to find that it was chained from the outside.

“Fuck. Fuck,” The young woman whispered under her breath, trying desperately to push the door open— on the off chance that the porter had been lazy and didn’t latch the padlock on the chains. But, as her luck would have it, the padlock was firmly in place, keeping the door firmly shut.

Instantly, her eyes darted around the dim room, trying to look for a way to get out of there before things went to hell inside the train. But she found no other exits except the main doors, as the windows had metal screens on them to keep thieves out.

The train lurched beneath her at that moment, making her cry out as she got jostled against the door. And it wouldn’t have been bad, had the mountain of luggage behind her not come falling down; essentially trapping her right where she stood.

Just when she thought that things could get worse for her, they did when the heaviness that had been brewing inside her since she had boarded the train began to bubble up. It had her fighting back the migraine that practically split her head, all while resisting the urge to reach up and clutch at her tightening chest. She was left like a sitting duck, barely holding herself back from crying and screaming out her beloved’s name.

That was, until she remembered that Kyōjurō would be protecting the last five car trains; which most likely included the passenger car right across the car that she was in.

“Kyōjurō! Kyōjurō!” She whisper-yelled, wishing to all the gods that the demon on top of the train wouldn’t pay much attention to the ruckus that she was causing.

(Y/n) then began banging on the door with her open hand; heavy and frantic taps that she was sure the Flame Hashira would hear the moment that he came darting to the last passenger car.

Her hunch was right, thankfully, as Kyōjurō picked up on her faint calls through the noise of the train and the ruckus that the demon was making. And hearing her voice above all of that felt akin to having a bucket of ice-cold water being thrown at him; as icy fear gripped his chest.

“(Y/n)?!” The Hashira called out, kicking down the door that the demon had sealed shut with its flesh, eyes wide with panic and his heart racing in his chest the more that he heard her banging against the door and calling out his name.

Not wasting anymore time, Kyōjurō threw a quick glance over his shoulder and huffed out a frustrated sigh as he was torn between doing another mad dash to the front of all the carriages that he was protecting.

But it was a no brainer what his choice was: it was to save (Y/n) first, because she would always be his top priority.

And so, with a small leap to get to the cargo hold, he swung down the hilt of his sword and broke the lock that held the chains together; wrenching the door open and opening his arms just in time for his beloved to jump into them.

Tears marred her cheeks, but it didn’t appear that she had noticed that she had been crying in the first place, as she made no move to wipe them away. That made him feel even worse, but he brought his left hand up to cup the back of her head as he pressed her cheek to the crook of his neck.

“I’m here, shh, you’re okay. I’m here, my love.” In any other time, the effortless use of the nickname would have made him blush so hard but, at that moment, it only brought him relief. “I have you. You’re okay.”

He didn’t know why she was even there in the first place, but it really wasn’t the time or the place to ask her that. So, he decided to just ask her later.

(Y/n)’s arms automatically wrapped themselves around Kyōjurō’s middle, as she held herself as close to him as possible. The pain she felt was beginning to intensify, and the tightness in her chest began to double— and all she could do was cry; no matter how much she forced herself to numb herself down from all the negative sensations assaulting her.

She clung as tightly as she could to the back of the Hashira’s uniform, being selfish enough to not want him to part from her— because parting from her would mean certain death for him.

There was nothing more that (Y/n) wanted than for her beloved man to stay alive— so they could make all of her wishes for their future a reality. A family with him— the house in the mountains that she wanted, all the kids that she’d only seen him looking at with a sad longing in his eyes; she wanted to make him the happiest man in the world.

But she also knew that she couldn’t let it cost anyone’s life.

“(Y/n), I have to go.” Reluctantly, the blond pulled the young woman away from him; looking down at her tear-stained face before leaning down so he could brush his lips against her. “I’ll come back for you, just stay here.”

And with that, he untangled himself from his beloved (Y/n)’s arms dived back into the foray with the demon; making as quick work of it as possible; all while protecting the rest of the passengers on the train.

It was his duty, after all.

But he would be lying if he said that he didn’t want things to get over and done with as quickly as possible. Which had him really thankful— yet slightly fearful for (Y/n)’s safety— when the train derailed; sending people flying, and carriages falling to the wayside of the tracks.

Kyōjurō didn’t even wait another second to see the demon start to disintegrate, because his feet carried him towards the object of his affections; his future wife.

She had been tossed back within the luggage car, making his heart sink to his stomach as he hurriedly pushed away all of the trunks and luggage bags that were blocking her from coming to him.

Her sobs were soft and muffled as she bit down on her bottom lip, but they still felt like tiny pinpricks of ice to the Flame Hashira’s heart; especially when he saw how battered she had gotten in the fiasco.

The bruise forming on her cheek was minor, but he still found himself hugging her as tight as he could— burying his face in her hair, as she clung to him once more.

In the distance, Kyōjurō picked up another presence— one that had him looking up and surveying the area. And he found himself pulling away from (Y/n) to have his hand ready at the hilt of his sword. Whatever had come was powerful, and he wanted her nowhere near it.

“Stay here, and don’t go anywhere.”

The young woman’s eyes widened at that implication, knowing what was to come; getting her stuck in a moral dilemma, that had her pinned between a rock and another hard place. Yet, she would be damned if she didn’t admit that it hurt so much. “No, no, no, you can’t go. Please. Please, Kyōjurō. Please.”

If only she could help him, then she would have. She would have done everything in her power to help him.

Her hands tried to hold him where he was, but Kyōjurō still pulled away from her again, feeling something in his gut telling him to stay put. But he wasn’t doing that; not when he had so many people to protect— especially the person whom he was going to ask to marry him after all that had happened.

“Don’t worry about me dying here,” And so, with a reassuring smile at her, the blond whispered, “I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

Those words didn’t reassure (Y/n) one bit but, before she could reach out and hold him again, the pain bearing down on her had her clutching her chest and gritting her teeth; unbeknownst to Kyōjurō, whom had just darted towards where he was sensing the newcomer’s dangerous aura.

It was as if there was a vise wrapped around (Y/n)’s neck; making her breaths come out in ragged pants, and her muscles seize up with the overall agony that coursed through her body.

And it was at that moment that she realized that, little by little, she was starting to disappear; her fingertips turning into golden dust at first, and slowly extending up to her knuckles.

“No. Not now, please. Not now,” She whimpered, completely helpless, as she stared at her shaking hands. “Fuck.”

A loud bang had her looking up from her own dilemma, making her see the bigger picture and urging her to move before she thought about it. Her legs began to carry her as fast as they could to where the cloud of dust had formed, with her being completely uncaring about how she felt and how she would end up.

What mattered to her was getting to Kyōjurō, and saving him, even if it cost her life.

Just up ahead, she could see only flashes of Akaza effortlessly fighting off Kyōjurō’s attacks, which had her pushing her legs even faster— all while more and more tears rolled down her cheeks.

“KYŌJURŌ!” She cried in a broken and hoarse tone, which fell on deaf ears as he was too engrossed in fighting off the Upper Moon demon.

It had only been a mere few minutes, but the Flame Hashira was already battered and bruised; his ribs were broken, and he was sure that he was bleeding internally at that point, yet he still pushed forward.

Only stopping when he had missed and Akaza had managed to land a painful blow to his left eye. It put him at such a hard spot, yet he didn’t want to give up.

He couldn’t give up.

His breath was also coming in shaky bursts at that moment, and his entire body ached, but he was thankful for the little reprieve that he received as he geared up for one more blow; adjusting his hold on the hilt of his sword and concentrating all of his efforts into the tenth form.

However, just as he and Akaza charged forward, (Y/n)’s voice cut through Akaza’s nonsensical chatter; and it felt like the world had come to a standstill as both of them looked over to where she was.

And it was to feel his entire body go numb when he saw her starting to disintegrate; golden dust emanating from every part of her that all the fight in him almost leaving his body. Had it not been for his last-minute thinking, he wouldn’t have taken the little window that (Y/n)’s distraction provided to swing his sword and cut off the Upper Moon demon’s head.

It fell to the ground with a muffled thud, but he couldn’t care less about it then— thinking that his job was done— as he raced towards (Y/n) and caught her just in time as she collapsed to the ground.

He hadn’t even realized that he was also crying, not until he had (Y/n) cradled in his arms as she cupped his cheeks with her half-disintegrated hands. “(Y/n), what’s wrong? What’s happening? What should I do?”

Kyōjurō’s mind was racing with so many thoughts at once, yet he could only manage to speak in broken fragments— as his sobs cut through his sentences. He sounded every inch of the broken man that he felt.

It was as if someone had just ripped his heart out right in front of him.

“I’ll… I’ll find you in your reality. I promise. You won’t ever be alone ever again, (Y/n); you mean everything to me.” His confession poured from his lips, frantic and garbled, but still legible to everyone’s ears. But what had everyone looking away was when the Flame Hashira dipped his head and claimed his beloved’s lips as the sun rose over the horizon.

Holding himself against her, all while he devolved into such loud and heartbroken sobs as he promised over and over that he would find her in her own time and reality.

After all, he was never one to back down from promises; especially when it came to the one and only love of his life.

***

When (Y/n) came to, it was to the sight of her best friend hovering above her— with her face stained with tears, and her eyes looking completely panicked. “What are you even doing here? I’ve been looking for you for almost an hour now! I thought you got kidnapped!”

Slowly, the young woman looked around her and noted that she was back at the temple in Setagaya; with her back flush against the stone pavement just behind the pagoda.

Thankfully, no one else was there to see her in such an embarrassing predicament.

“And when did you get a kimono as nice as that? Did you leave me behind just to get that? Christ, (Y/n)!” (F/n) rambled through her tears, roughly picking her best friend up by the shoulders and holding her close as she called her a dumbass over and over.

“I…” She couldn’t even answer straight, as what had transpired in the Taishō era flashed in her mind. It had her thinking if it had all been a hallucination, but when she looked down at the kimono she wore, she could tell that it wasn’t.

Because there was no other explanation for the fiery red kimono she donned, other than her traversing time and spending almost a year with Rengoku Kyōjurō. It seemed to her that time flowed differently in both realities, because she was sure that ten months had already passed.

“You what?”

“I was with him… with Kyōjurō,” (Y/n) whispered, feeling her own tears well up in her eyes, before they began falling down her cheeks. “I… he fought Akaza, and he lived… but I disappeared.”

“You’re not making any sense, (Y/n). Did you hit your head hard?” With those words, (F/n) reached up and felt for any bumps to the back of her friend’s head— only to find none. “And where’s your bag? Did you leave it somewhere?”

The young woman sat there instead of answering, completely frozen as her silent tears gradually turned into sobs. All the while, her arms wrapped themselves around her friend, and she cried her heart out— for all the things that had been, and all of the things that could have been between her and her beloved Hashira.

She didn’t even know how long they sat there on the ground but, once she was all cried out, (F/n) transferred her to one of the benches that were strewn around the temple; letting her get her bearings, before she set off to try and help her friend find her bag.

With every minute that passed, the pain in (Y/n)’s heart grew harder and harder to deal with— and she wanted nothing more than to go home at that moment, if only to curl up into a ball and try to remember the way that Kyōjurō’s lips felt against hers.

“You look so sad, my love…” The familiar voice had the aforementioned woman looking up, especially when she felt a warm and gentle hand cup her cheek and tilt her face up.

Slowly, tears that she didn’t know she could still produce welled up in her eyes— as she took in the glorious sight that Kyōjurō made in his own black kimono. He had a scar on his closed left eye, but it gave him such a rugged edge that— dare she say— was not unattractive at all. And partnered with the tears, her lips pulled up at the corners in a disbelieving yet relieved smile; something that was all for him as she sprung up and wrapped her arms around him.

“You’re here! How?” Her hands clung tightly to him, curling into the material of his clothes as she buried her face in the crook of his neck— taking in the scent that was so intoxicating and entirely Kyōjurō.

“Well, I had to return your bag…” The blond chuckled, as he ensconced his beloved in his arms— brushing his lips against the crown of her head, and smiling when he felt her lips brush against his skin. “That, and I wanted to ask if you would marry me.”

“Yes! Yes, but… how?” (Y/n) answered with a slight laugh, pulling back and cupping Kyōjurō’s cheeks in her hands; as if to make sure that he really was there.

The young man grinned then, taking hold of one of her hands and turning his head to press his lips against the inside of her wrist. “It took a while to arrange everything with Oyakata-sama, and to figure out how to get here, but I’m sure that one of his descendants from this time and reality would have my identification papers for me.”

Silence passed between the couple then, as (Y/n) tossed and turned his words in her head, before giving in and wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his— in a much-anticipated kiss.

She had so many questions left unanswered, and she was extremely tempted to face the gods once more and ask them what exactly was happening, but she reckoned that it was best not to challenge them anymore.

After all, she had gotten her wish: someone who would love and cherish her forever; and that man was Rengoku Kyōjurō.

BONUS:

(F/n) huffed irately as she stepped back from a thicket of bushes within the temple grounds, still feeling cross with her best friend for disappearing just like that— but not understanding what she was getting at with her explanation of meeting a manga character.

And, finally feeling defeated in her search for (Y/n)’s bag, she circled back to where she left the other woman— only to see her pulling away from a kiss with a weird looking man; someone that looked eerily similar to Rengoku from the Demon Slayer manga.

Instantly, her hackles were raised, as she let out a barking cry, “Hey, you cool cosplay bitch, get away from her!”

Kyōjurō’s eyebrows furrowed at that, as he didn’t understand a lick of what the other woman had said— but he turned back to his future wife and asked, “Is that the friend that you’d mentioned before? She seems protective. You’ve been in really good hands, then.”

“Didn’t you hear me, you weirdo? Get your hands off of (Y/n)!”

“She has my thanks for protecting you all this time.”

[chalkrevelations]

Ep 27 of Word of Honor, and that was … Well. That was definitely the unicorn chaser to spending so much time and hugging with Awful Yifu in the last episode.

(Spoilers, as ever, so scroll away and come back later, if you’re still planning to watch unspoiled.)

I mean, what is there to say?

Ha, no, really, I can find plenty to say. Buckle up, I guess.

Clearly, I’m going to talk about The Scene, and there’s a lot going on here, besides the obvious cake frosting of everyone coming to everyone else’s rescue and the fighting and the crying and the declarations, and then once it’s all over, when everybody’s still hopped up on adrenaline, before the crash hits, the shouting and the laughing. At the end of it, we’re not even 20 minutes into the ep, and I feel like that should have been the climax (har), but they probably knew nobody would be able to concentrate on anything else that came before it. I’ve seen a couple of interviews now where Zhang Zhehan said he wanted to play Wen Kexing, and given the chance, he would probably still pick that role, and then everyone involved in the interview rambles on about the complexity of the Wen Kexing character, and it makes me worry that Zhang Zhehan isn’t giving himself or Zhou Zishu enough credit for the depth and range that he pulled out of the character. There’s a lot of various people yelling at various other people in many different places in this show, but there’s not been a scene yet that I felt it like I did when ZZS shouts at WKX after Ye Baiyi finally goes away, wanting to know what the fuck he was thinking. That felt real, and it felt layered – like, there’s a bone-deep fear that’s giving that anger extra strength, fear about the fact that WKX could be so self-destructive. Which also may force ZZS to confront for the first time the idea that WKX could die and leave him alone, just like all his other shidi died and left him alone. I’d have to go back and rummage around in previous eps, but I feel like this could be the first time ZZS really has to confront the idea that could happen, and he’s probably not at all prepared for it, because he’s understandably expecting to be the first to go. But this idea that WKX could just disappear, and get himself killed (because let’s face it, Ye Baiyi tossed them both around like toys), and ZZS would never see him again – that he would abandon ZZS like that, just to hide his secrets – I think that might be part of the anger, here. (You don’t fail me … and Zhou Zishou’s expectations for what constitutes not being failed are a pretty low bar, consisting mainly of not getting yourself killed like a fucking dumbass, and even that bar suddenly seems to be too high for Wen Kexing to clear.)

There’s also a clear parallel here, need I say, to the scene in a previous ep when Gu Xiang (WKX) begs Shen Shen (Ye Baiyi) that even after Shen Shen (Ye Baiyi) kills her (him), could he just for god’s sake not tell her (his) boyfriend who she (he) really was. Wen Kexing’s supposedly thought-out plan was basically just going to be what A-Xiang came up with on the fly, and stupid babies need the most love, I remind myself grimly, particularly when all this is about something Zhou Zishu already knew anyway, because he’s a brilliant former merciless assassin, not a good-hearted self-deprecating cinnamon roll who thinks he’s the least talented person in his sect like Cao Weining. We’ve also got some tasty philosophical stuff in this whole confrontation, including competing responsibilities – loyalty vs. justice vs. integrity – along with ideas of retributive vs. restorative justice. This is another good Zhang Zhehan acting moment, because that whole bit about how, actually, Grandpa, his shifu would have been about guiding his shidi toward kindness and making up for the mistakes he made – I actually believe he’s wholly thinking about Wen Kexing when he pulls out this philosophical rapier, and not at all about how restorative justice benefits ZZS, himself, considering how much blood he has on his own hands and that earlier conversation about frying in oil for 80 vs. 100 years. Good job, my friend. The one thing that makes me sad about this scene is that I’ve seen That Extra, and I hate we were robbed of not only Zhou Zishu actually laying his head on Wen Kexing’s shoulder but of Gong Jun’s single crystalline tear spilling down his cheek. Zhang Zehan’s right, that was a better take.

Anyway, Ye Baiyi proceeds to put WKX under house arrest, which, just. So he has to live with ZZS for the rest of his life? Please don’t throw him into the briar patch, right?

Also, yes, WKX. He’d die for you, dumbass. God.

Just to drive home the point of how the Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishou and Gu Xiang/Cao Weining relationships are the same relationship, we then go to a scene … well, we then go directly to a scene where Cao Weining is just sitting there, chin in hand, gazing adoringly at Gu Xiang, much the way Wen Kexing has been gazing adoringly at Zhou Zishu since about Ep 3 2 1 …  but that also leads into a scene where Cao Weining is interrogated about Gu Xiang by his shixiong in a milder, miniature version of the grilling ZZS just took from his elder. “Do you know who she is?” Whoever she is, he’s going to continue to respect her boundaries. “I promised her, so I won’t betray or distrust her.” “We’ve been through so much together.” (“We’re in the same boat anyway, we might as well stay together.”) I won’t fail you. Nobody in this scene has actually made the Ghost Valley connection, yet, and Cao Weining is not as canny as Zhou Zishu, so we’re not yet going to get any kind of resolution on the issue in this relationship - but given the way these relationships are running on parallel tracks, I have positive feelings about how Cao Weining is going to meet this challenge (not that I didn’t, anyway) once the info finally does come out.

What else, what else? We do go back to Xie Wang and Awful Yifu in this ep, and oh boy.

Xie’er: Ghost Valley Master’s faithful minion Heartless Amethyst Fiend has been sent by her master to sneakily follow Cao Weining and infiltrate the Gentle Wind Sword Sect where the Glazed Armor is being held.

A-Xiang, chillin’ outside the gated community in a rustic cabin with her fiancé, doing some mending and waiting for her wedding day: Never speak of my former master again, I have utterly left that life behind me. Also, what should we have for dinner?

I can see how you would come to the conclusion you did, Xie’er, but wow, the only time you’ve been more wrong in your life is about your Awful Yifu. Speaking of which, it appears the cat Awful Yifu is out of the bag. Xie Wang is still all, “Since you saved me, you can take my life back if you want,” and here we are in Zhou Zishu-Prince Jin territory again, shades of ZZS in Ep 1 not even blinking as he offers himself to Prince Jin and takes the gamble that he won’t just get his head cut off for his troubles. ALSO, I distinctly remember telling you, Xie’er, that you were empathizing (although not sympathizing) a bit much with the women of the Department of the Unfaithful, and here we do in fact get an explicit comparison, looking back to the conversation with Beauty Ghost about her loser boyfriend, when you refer to yourself as “also a gambler” as you take your leave of Zhao JIng. You need some Water of Lethe, buddy. Or do you think – to return to that conversation and the parallels with Beauty Ghost – that if you remember all this, you’ll stop making the same mistakes?

A last few random things:

lol, let’s all take a minute to giggle over the fact that ZZS has, in Ye Baiyi’s words, associated with this dude. Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Sorry, but I had to pause the show at that point to snicker like a 12-year-old.

Chengling: “How dare those ruffians beat my two dads! Let’s burn down their house.” Wow. OK. Xiang-jie has been … some kind of influence on her didi.

Last scene of ZZS and WKX, oh my god:

ZZS: You’re feeling bad for keeping a secret from a kid? What about me? How are you going to make it up to me?

WKX: Oh, my goodness, look at the time. I’m feeling so … sleepy. Yes, that’s it. I must go to bed. You also must be so … sleepy. You should. You know. Go to bed. Too. Also. To cure your … sleepiness. As you do, in a bed. Where I will also be.

Me, to the screen: He’s going to make it up to you on his back.

Also me: :facepalm: You are a pair of merciless killers. How are you this adorable?

[studiousmusings]

What if Dream Won?

AU Fan Fic of the Dream SMP final showdown between Tommy & Tubbo vs Dream 

Warnings: Angst / Major Character Death / All the heart break

Words:  2619

A/N - I just binge watched all of tommyinnit’s vods and am in love with the lore and story line of the Dream SMP (just starting to get into Ranboo’s Arc). I had this stuck in my head and just needed to get it out there. Hope you enjoy! 

__________________________________________Tommy's heart was pounding in his chest. Lungs burning for air as he hid behind the pile of dirt, a half eaten golden apple in hand. 

 "Tommy." 

 Dream's voice echoed over the mountain top, ringing in Tommy’s ears and sending a shiver down his spine. Every moment he could ever remember the green clad man saying his name overlapped in his mind. Never had his tone been as ice cold as it was now. 

 “T-tommy…” Tubbo. enemy   traitor YOU EXILED ME  NO! His friend, his best friend. His first friend ever since he arrived on the SMP. This was just Dream getting into his head again. Tommy shook clear the haze and memories and froze as a cry came from the other side of the mountain's summit. Tubbo was sprawled across the grass, trapped under Dream's boot, sword tip resting against his friend's throat. 

The disc burned in his pocket, the weight of it was like a thousand pounds. Everything he and Tubbo worked for. Every war, every skirmish, every death. Wilbur...  L'Manburg. BURNT TO THE GROUND . The smell of sulfur and smoke filled his nostrils, the blasts of TNT and the Wither's cries ringing in his ears. 

 Dream sighed, "Come out Tommy" his sword moved, stabbing into Tubbo's shoulder as the teen pleads. 

 "Please, NO! DREAM! STOP. You're killing me! TOMMY!!" 

 "STOP!" Tommy stood, dropping the apple as he gripped Techo's axe his axe. The worn leather cutting into the skin of his palm "just stop." 

 "Tommy. Tommy. Tommy" He could hear the crazed smile behind the blank white mask. the soulless eyes and smile mocking him. "You're nothing! I haven't even gotten started yet! Look at you, your armor is falling apart and I haven't even brought out my potions. I had our poor Mr. President crying within three hits!” 

 “I have one of the discs Dream” Tommy can hear his own voice wavering. 

 Tubbo yelped as Dream withdrew the sword, bright red blood coating the glowing metal and slowly dripping onto the grass. “Give me the disc Tommy. Or I’ll kill Tubbo. I’ll even count you down”

 “Ten” 

 “Don’t give it to him Tommy!” Tubbo tried to surge forward, hand gripping the wound as blood continued to spill past his fingers but Dream just kicked him down again. 

 “Nine” 

 “I… Tubbo….” 

 “Eight” 

 What does he do? What does he do? What does he DO! 

 “Seven… Six”

 Thousands of thoughts rushed through Tommy’s mind. Heat building behind his eyes, as his free hand wrapped around the circular bit of metal. The memories behind it, the history… Then he looks into Tubbo’s watery gaze. The strength behind them, telling him it’s ok. BUT IT’LL NEVER BE OK! 

 “Five.” 

 Tubbo flinched as the sword cut into his cheek, leaving a small trickle of blood to run down his chin. “Four.” 

 Tommy’s heart stuttered, moving before he could even think the disc soared through the air and clattered at Dream’s feet. He could feel the man’s surprise as he stepped away from Tubbo, letting the teen scramble to Tommy’s side. Bending down he picked up the disc, a manic laugh bubbles past his lips. “I- I didn’t think it’d be that easy. No, I should have known. You’re such an idiot Tommy.” the thin metal shattered in his grasp. 

 Tubbo gasped “wha- no!” and Tommy felt like the world had disappeared beneath his feet. 

 “They were FAKE TOMMY!” Dream threw down the other disc, Mellohi and stomped on it, the thin metal shards cutting into the earth. “Did you really think I would bring the real discs with me!? Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think this is a game! It’s not!” he laughed, high and crazed. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He cocked his chin, the green glow of his eyes just barely peeking out from behind the mask. 

 “Drop your armor and items Tommy.” 

 The familiar phrase made Tommy freeze. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding, the pain lancing through him. The rush of emotions almost sending him to his knees, this was it. 

 “You too Tubbo” He raised his sword, nearly slicing the teen’s other arm. 

 “OK! Ok…” Tubbo moved quickly, tearing at the leather straps with shaking hands and dropping his apples and potions. “Tommy...” he looked between them nervously. 

 “Now Tommy.” 

 He moved like a man on strings, a movement that was well oiled and familiar. How many times had Dream made him do this while in exile? He had lost count truly. He dropped everything, even the seeds he had no idea why he had grabbed in the panic of battle. Ghostbur’s crossbow and pickaxe… all the pearls and potions. Dream picked up the Axe of Peace before tossing the dynamite down, letting all the items go up in flames. Hours upon hours of work, mining… farming… all of it gone. Left in only his clothes, still slightly singed from Doomsday as the sun began to set, the freezing wind burning his skin as it whipped around them. 

 “You’re a bastard Dream.” 

 “I know. And now, we’re going to take a trip. I’ll even show you the real discs.” 

 Held at sword point, Tommy gripped Tubbo’s wrist as Dream marched them towards the edge of the summit, the waterfall they had used to climb the sheer cliffs was now their trip down, death hung above the two teen’s heads.  

 “Go” Dream shoved Tommy’s back, nearly making him tumble over. 

 “Ok! Ok!” he helped Tubbo into the water, with his shoulder useless he would need help to safely get down. At least the spring water would somewhat clean out the wound. 

 Dream stops them at the mountain’s base, a stretch of rock too flat and uniform to be anything but suspicious. “I’ve been one step ahead of you two the entire time. Tubbo thought I was his friend Tommy. You thought I was your friend.” He laughed and knocked Tommy up against the wall, pushing Tubbo aside.  “What an idiot, right Tommy?” he whispered, sword waving dangerously in Tubbo’s direction. 

 “You’re evil Dream… do you know that? I gotta wonder how you sleep at night.” Tommy couldn’t help the words flowing from his mouth even as the back of his head stung from knocking against the stone. The white mask darkened for a moment, the taller man stilling, his frame rising to block out the moon and cast an angry shadow. 

 “I sleep just fine. L’Manburg’s gone, I have the discs, I have you two at my mercy.”  The glee returned, and Tommy’s heart nearly stopped when the pickaxe came swinging at his head, the metal breezing past his cheek, as it smashed into the stone behind him. A warm trickle of blood drips down his cheek a matching pair to Tubbo's. 

 “Go in Tommy,” Dream bent over to whisper into his ear. 

 “What the fu-” the cavern had torches haphazardly scattered along the walls, the dim light just barely illuminating a section of the floor made of obsidian. 

 “Get on the platform.” 

 Tubbo’s fingers intertwined with Tommy’s, helping pull him to the black stone. His eyes were pleading as he whispers, “just do as he says Tommy, we might still get out of this.”  

 The sounds of pistons filled the room as Dream hits a button, and with an almighty lurch the platform began to lower.  There’s a moment of tense silence in the dark, only the glow of Dream’s armor reflecting off of his manic mask to see from. “Listen Tommy,” from all the thick stone it sounds like Dream’s voice is coming from every direction. “Ever since you arrived here, you’ve been a headache! You’ve brought war… terrorism. And above all else, you’ve brought the reason for all the violence, you brought attachment. Your attachment to the discs, to friends, to pets, lands, countries, items.” he laughed short and loud as the platform finally lowered into a huge underground cavern. 

 The walls made of thick, black obsidian towered high over them as they slowly lowered to the floor of bedrock. On the other side of the room, illuminated by glow-stone lamps the discs sat on pedestals on either side of a Nether portal. 

 “What the fuc-” 

 “You brought attachment Tommy.” Dream continued, even as the platform stops at the bottom and an eerie gong rings throughout the room. “It took me a long time to realize just how important attachment could be. But when I did, it made me stronger. And I realized you- you’re important. Come see, come see you’re discs. They’re right there… you could take them.. Run through the portal… but then I’ll just kill Tubbo. See, they don’t matter anymore.” he looks at Tubbo, “because I know what your real attachment is. 

I’ve cut my attachment, I became free. I lost my friends, blew up my house… my crossbow… everything that was important to me. I cut everything because that’s what gave people power over each other, attachments. I had to lose everything, to gain control.”  The manic tint to his words made Tommy shiver, Dream was becoming more and more twisted with each word. Or maybe he was always like that and Tommy just never noticed. 

 “You’re a sick bastard!” 

 “If I can control the things people are attached to... then I can control the world again." He laughs gleefully, scowling "This isn’t Tommy SMP or Tubbo SMP. it’s DREAM’S SMP! I can control it all if I have everything anyone’s ever cared about. I’ve already started my collection.” a wide sweep of his arm drew Tommy’s attention to the other pedestals around the edges of the room, and signs labeling them. Dream put Techo’s Axe on one with a glass case. Another podium had a bucket with a little clown fish in it, the label said Beckerson.

 “LOOK! LOOK TOMMYINNIT!” Dream spun on his toes, green glow all but erupting from behind the mask. “I have a spot for everything, and room for more! I will take it all and no one will be able to go against me again.” 

 “You’re a terrible man!” Tubbo spat, “wha- what have you done…” 

 Tommy could feel himself shaking, looking over the few items Dream had already collected. Ghostbur’s friend… Henry for god sake. He thought Henry was DEAD!  “You are sick Dream! A fucking psycho!” 

 Tommy pulled Tubbo behind him as Dream marched into his space, towering over the teens all while still glowing that ghostly green. “Everything I’ve done is for a reason!” he snarled. “To take back control of the world!” he lent back, a smile growing in his tone again, “and it’s all thanks to you Tommy.” 

 “Just kill us already!” Tommy screamed, behind him Tubbo was shaking. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the panic or because he was feeling the same anger that burned in Tommy’s stomach. 

 “You’re the KEY Tommy!” Dream scoffed, “You bring the attachment, so no… I can’t kill you. I can’t let you free either. Your exile was perfect! People could visit you, not that I didn’t do my best to stop them. But you were out of the way… just how I wanted, and then you left. You disappeared and wrecked EVERYTHING.”  

 Dream spun, sword back in hand it’s cold metal caressing Tommy’s chin, making him look up into the mask’s painted eyes. “So I made a prison.” He tilted his head, letting the mask focus on Tubbo. “I’M GOING TO LOCK TOMMY AWAY FOREVER TUBBO. I need him, but I don’t need you. You’re just a pawn, a follower who has lost his usefulness” 

 Tommy shoved the man back, not that it moved him much. Pure fear ran through his system, at the anger that was directed at Tubbo, at the blatant threat. “Tubbo isn’t a follower! You’re a monster Dream, evil… just pure evil!” 

 “Evil…” Dream laughed, dark and gritty that echoed around the vault. “Evil is in the eye of the beholder. So if I’m the evil in your story, that means you’re the hero Tommy. And every hero needs and origin story.”

 “NO!” the fear that soaked Tommy to the bone gripped at his throat, his voice breaking and wheezing. Even as Tubbo grasped at his hand, clammy skin with a heartbeat fluttering fast under his touch. “Absolutely fucking not! NO! What do you mean.” Tommy desperately looked around the hall, they were trapped, Dream stood between them and the portal. The platform had long risen back to the surface. They had no tools, no supplies, no way to break through the impossibly strong obsidian. 

 “Tommy. I want to give you your chance to say good-bye. I’m not the monster you think I am.” Dream said lightly, like he was giving a present on Christmas day, “It’s Tubbo’s time to go, so say your good-byes, because after this… you’ll never see him again.” 

 “Keep the discs!” Tommy panicked. “I don’t care about them, let Tubbo and I go.” 

 “I don’t give a shit about the discs Tommy. I care about power, and Tubbo is the power over you that needs to go. Say you’re good-byes.”

 “FUCK YOU BITCH! NO! Wha-what the h-hell…” Tommy resisted the urge to pace, to move so he could think, try and come up with something that could get Tubbo out of here. But the small hand clutched in his kept him rooted in one spot. 

Dream tilted his head, like Tommy was some sort of interesting painting “You’ll miss out on your chance to say good-bye to your best friend? I’m not kidding, I am going to kill him!” The anger was back, the flip flopping of emotions coming from the older man was like two sides of a coin, one moment blistering anger, the other a child filled with excitement. 

 “Tommy…” 

 “NO!” 

 “Tommy!” Blood soaked fingers grasped onto his shirt and spun them so Tubbo stood in between Tommy and the green man.

 Tommy’s muttering continued in full force, “if we run, if we get to my old base, we could make it Tubbo, we could make it…” He gripped Tubbo's sleeves, anything to ground himself.

 “It’s alright. This is it…” Tears streaked down the slightly chubby cheeks of his best friend. 

 “Don’t just accept this Tubbo! We- we- you can’t….” 

 “Tommy, it’s over” the smaller teen pulls Tommy into a hug, arms wrapping around him like a lifeline. “All good things must come to an end. We had a good run” he mutters into the fabric of his shirt, tears soaking through, “I didn’t think this would be the end for me, but we had some fun times.” 

 “...What am I without you?”

  “Yourself. Your amazing, funny, and brave self. I believe you’ll get out of this on your own, it won’t be the end for you Tommy.” Tubbo pulled back, eyes roaming over Tommy like he was trying to memorize everything about him. 

 “Tubbo...even though, ever since I met you, I've always regarded you as my sidekick.” Tommy ignored the hot tears stinging the scratches across his cheek. “But really Tubbo I was your sidekick.” 

 Tubbo takes a step back smiling, arms dropping to his sides. “You’ll always be my best friend Tommyinnit” 

 The sword erupts from Tubbo’s chest with a wet sound of singing metal. Blood bubbling up past pale lips. Face still stupidly stuck in that small smile, eyes never leaving Tommy’s even as he watches the light fade from them.  

 “NO!” Tommy feels his world fall apart. Catching Tubbo as he falls, like a puppet with its string’s cut. Dream stands over him, blood dripping onto the stone as he wipes the blade clean. Clinical and oppressive.  

 “Time to go Tommy.” 

  Hands still stained, and blood soaked shirt and jeans sticking to his skin, barely dry unlike the cold body of his friend.  Tommy feels the rage fester and build as he looks up at the maniac, the murderer. Even as the lava slowly falls over the cell’s doors, blocking his view and locking him in the obsidian room with only empty books for company. Tommy makes a promise, a declaration. Whatever it takes, Dream is going to pay.

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Young Sirius Black

Author note: I may Or may not make a second part- depending if anyone wants it lol 😂 And personally Young Sirius and young Remus are HOT! If only they acturally played them..

Did I Proof read: 😂 i love how you all think I might one day do that... Today is not that day!

Rating: PG 13

Fandom: Harry Potter

Twisting your hair Thur your fingers you were freezing. The small motion didn’t make your fingers warm up. You were unprepared for the cold you weren’t expecting the warm spring day too turn so bitter. Leaving your gloves in your Room. However you weren’t prepared for the cold. You weren’t expecting for Severus too Be late.. and over an hour late. You were fingers were turning red from the last bit of Jack frosts Bitter wind blowing. You wore a pink warm tuke, and your Gryffindor scarf with your plaid shirt and jeans. Not exactly warm winter gear. It was Warm when you left Hogwarts too GO to Hogmead too shop- Sev said he would be ten minutes behind you and would meet you at your spot. Right outside the bookshop. Where you were gong too spend way too much money on a book about muggle odd objects Thur history. And Newt Scandanders new Book on wondrous Creatures across Great Britain you were hoping Nessie was in the book.

There hasn’t been a confirmed Sighting Yet. But a magical creature that even the muggles see and tourist flaunt to see. It was a mystery and So far.. No confirmed cases proving it’s real or Not you were hopping Newt Scamander had a take on it. You wrote him last year asking about he’ import he is you’re favourite author and wizard in All of the magical world. Everyone was a Dumbledore fan you were a Newt. Fan. What he did alone in New york was worthy of your devotion.

What held you back from Getting your copy that you found thru the window was your promise too Severus that you wouldn’t go into the bookstore without him. But that was Before the weather turned cold And you were turning into a popsicles.

“What the Hell are you doing out here?” Turning your head seeing Sirius, Remus and peter walking back towards school but Sirius caught sight of you freezing hear the bookstore. He dashed over too you as you spoke, ‘oh Hey guys..”

They were fellow Gryffindor with you. You known them since year one. You and Remus have spent hours debuting on different’ creatures and Sirius who was Far too cool too geek out over creatures or anything fun. Always ignored you. But he quickly pulled his coat off wrapping it around you, ‘where the hell is your coat?”

“In my room it wasn’t suppose too get so cold! I wasn’t expecting too be in Hogmead that long..”

“Why are you out here freezing?” Remus questioned. He’s hair was floppy as he stared at you curiously. He always stunned you. You shook your head at his question answering honestly.

“I was suppose too meet up with Sev- we were going too too book shopping he said he was only ten minutes behind me..”

“How long was that? You left before us!’ Sirius snapped as you wrapped yourself in his leather jacket. Rubbing you’re arms. ‘“An hour- and a bit ago..”

“Jesus Y/N! Why didn’t you go inside and wait?” Sirius Snapped as you snapped back, “I promised i would meet right here! I didn’t- I should of left sooner- but i was- where’s James?”

It. Blurted out. It. was rare too see the four friends far from each other. Peter said he was at Honeydukes. With Lily.”

If James and Lily were in Honeydukes you knew. Sev couldn’t be far away.. and probably was in Honeydukes spying on the bubbling couple. Your freezing body was overflown with Anger and you chest got Hot. You turned going Into the bookstore. Ou cannot believe you stupidly and foolishly decided too wait outside too freeze while that Foul. Twisted Git!

you reached over too the book you came for when Sirius spoke up, “you really need too give up on Snivellus” looking up at Sirius you were surprised he followed you inside the bookstore. Books and Sirius. Don’t match sometimes you wonder If he can read. 99% of the time he copy’s he’s homework off Remus.

“Severus-“ you corrected him before grabbing the last copy of Newt scandmanders book when Sirius quickly grabbed It looking at you. “your freezing! You Are far better off without him.”

Rolling your eyes. Ignoring his soft brown eyes staring at you worried. You’re anger disappeared and you were once again cold.

“Don’t worry- he’s Far too deeply In love with Lily too Notice me-“

Sirius Rolled his eyes as you grabbed the book from. Him turning too too the till too pay. He followed you as he spoke, “Let’s go back- and get you a nice warm butterbeer your making me cold just by looking at you.”

That was one of Sirius Blacks Many charms he can easily. Switch the conversation and make you forget moments ago he made you want too hit his head.

“Yea- that be nice actually.”

Returning too Hogwarts you got into the great hall with Sirius as you both got a warm drink as he stared at you. Having Sirius Black stare at you with those deep intense eyes. Even made the smartest. Girls like yourself turn into putty.

“what?” You asked flustered at him. Solid four minutes of just staring at you. While you tried too pay attention too your book. “ Coming up with a list of guys better then Snivellus for you.” That made you chock on Air.

“excuse me?”

“Don’t worry Remus is top five.”

You closed your book hearing that leaning forward towards SIrius hitting his arm, “Stop it! I don’t need your help in my love life! Those.. Please tell me you are on the lower end of that list.” He grinned as he leaned forward, “Top three.”

groaning you shuffled too your feet. Sirius always got under your skin in one way or another. It was his joy and happiness too torment you. In any way possible. always in good fun. And you never had a problem with tormenting him back. you have countless times ruined his dates with a random Ravenclaw girl. It was just your friendship with Sirius.

Getting too our feet too leave. you couldn’t help but turn too look at him as you spoke, “Top three.”

he chuckled as he spoke, “Remus first , Me second, James third.. Arthur Wesley Fourth.”

“But- James is with Lily.”

“hence why he’s third.” Rolling your eyes. he’s logical caused headaches. You went too leave until you caught sight of Sirius tense up. He stared behind you as you turned seeing why. Severus.

“you weren’t at our spot.’- you bought the book already?’

Grabbing your book you Hit Severus hard in the arm. Snapping” you left me freezing outside In the cold for an hour! GRR!” It came out. as you stormed off. You got several feet before turning back grabbing your drink and Severus noticed you were wearing Sirius jacket. As you stormed off again.

‘“Tough luck mate.”

Sirius spoke up crossing his arms at ease seeing the large nose Severus standing there turning too face him, “ “leave Y/N alone. She doesn’t need too get Involved in someone like you.”

he started too leave too chase after you till Sirius Spoke up, “i don’t suggest you Run off after Y/N. She’s feisty and is freezing, perhaps Instead of Running around trying too catch Lily’s attention you look at the Only girl who could love you.”

with that statement Sirius walked off.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “ER”

Short story for Krill this morning. Hope you guys enjoy. 

Dr. Krill was back on Earth. He had no idea why he always seemed to end up in this insane hellscape, but here he was…. again. only the other day he had been caught out in an electrical storm while trying to commute his way to work, which he hadn’t particularly appreciated, especially not when massive balls of frozen ice came pelting from the sky with enough power to tear open skin.

Even the humans had been running for cover, and that was saying something.

He would very much have preferred a job where he wasn’t in constant danger of getting murdered by the elements on a regular basis.

But this was earth, one day he could be enjoying the sun, the next he was risking heat death, the next he was almost blown away by the wind, and the day after that he was almost whisked away by minor flooding.

Of course, it was either walking to work or taking public transit which was probably even more dangerous considering that it had humans on board. Humans who were half asleep, humans who were strung out on drugs, humans with children, humans with dangerous pets. Then of course there were the more than mildly xenophobic humans, who were, somehow, under the impression that Krill was there to still earthling jobs, which was not the case at all considering that he had volunteered him time for free.

Krill had no need of monetary compensation, to him, the work was the reward.

He leaned something new every day.

And now, with his current stint working in a human hospital, he was becoming even more acquainted with humanity… not entirely sure if that was in a good way or not.

OF course, Krill more than missed the simple life aboard the harbinger where most humans were relatively educated and competent, where most stupid injuries came about by overly idiotic actions rather than ignorance -- a point could be argued to which one of those things was worse, but, for the moment, Krill was under the impression that willful idiocy was still better than ignorance because at least they knew why they were stupid, and generally openly admitted it to krill whereas working with the general populace forced him to have to be patient and understanding towards people who just didn’t know any better.

Apparently telling people they are stupid to their faces is seen as off-color in the human medical world even though that is probably exactly what some of the people needed to hear.

Again, he found himself wishing for the harbinger, and for the return of the captain – the biggest idiot of them all.

He idly wondered how he was doing on his little trip across the universe.

He wondered how Sunny was doing exploring the human world on her own two feet/

He wished he knew when they would be back together.

The UNSC had given them extended shore leave, but they had never specified how long it was going to be seeming to hint that it was contingent on how the captain felt. Well Krill was under the impression the captain needed to get his ass back here so krill would stop having to pull things out of people’s butts.

 Speaking of pulling things out of people’s butts’ he was on ER rotation today. He found that the ER could be the most interesting, or the most infuriating part of a hospital. Just the other day he had led the surgical team that reattached someone’s arm, but then the day before that he had been in the ER to inform a woman that yes your shortness of breath likely comes from the run you just went on after years of never having exercised.

He took his clipboard and walked into the human waiting room.

He could write a paper on what sort of things it was important for a medical professional to keep in mind when treating humans. But here was an example of his typical day.

·         Isn’t this the second time I have seen little Jimmy in here for sticking something up his nose? I understand that he really loves playing with those toys, but you have to understand there is a reason the label says five and up. Yes, it would probably be best if you did not allow him around things he could get stuck in his face.

·         Your pregnant. Yes of course I am sure. I can do a blood test if you like. I know you said you are not sexually active, but I have looked at this blood test twice and a stick test twice and it says you are pregnant. Well what do you consider sexually active…. mmhmmm…. Mmmhmmm…. well I think it is probably my job to inform you that it is still sex even if the woman is on top.

·         You just…. fell on it huh? So, you were doing household chores…. Naked…. And you just so happened to slip and as you were slipping this item was magically vacuumed up into your colon. Mmmmm hmmm, quick question where was this potato located for you to have fallen on it like that? Well no sir, I am afraid that we probably won’t be able to get it out manually you are going to need a gastrointestinal specialist for that.

·         Yes sir, your chest pain probably has something to do with all the cocaine you have been snorting. Cocaine tends to do that to people.

·         Ok you are a diabetic trying to control your blood sugar. Ok, I am glad to hear that you have worked on toning down your sugar consumption, that’s good, but I am still very concerned about your sugar levels. This is far to high and I am extremely concerned. Let’s go through your diet and see what you have been eating. Have you cut back on soft drinks? Yes, and now you drink a lot of fruit juice…. ahh… I see. Well ma’am fruit juice just so happens to contain a lot of sugar which might be why your blood sugar is so high. Might I suggest drinking some water.

·         Ah finally, a real emergency. Yes, your grandmother’s breathing problems worry me greatly. Let’s get her back in to do an EKG, make sure nothing is gong on with her heart. I am glad you brought her in when you did.

·         Yes, little Susie is going to be fine. I am glad she knew how to use her epi-pen, excellent work Susie.

·         No, I don’t care that you have been waiting four hours to se the doctor. Your child has a mild stomach ache, their child is having intermittent seizures. No, I will not be calling the medical director in to see you about this.

·         Well that’s probably why it hurts so much. The condom is not supposed to cover the balls too.

·         No matter how much you deny your use of opiates, when you came in here you weren’t breathing and when I gave you Narcan you started breathing again, so I know where my vote is. Please try not to deny these things to your medical professional next time. It is not my job to call the cops. No, I am not going to rat you out. Yes, you could die if you don’t tell me about past drug use no matter what it is.

·         You got a WHAT in your WHERE. Why would you stick a toothpick in there? No sir generally most people are not ailed with an itchy urethra, in fact I am pretty sure that is not a thing. Look, I am not judging you sir, but please stop sticking pointy things up into places where they do not belong because you could cause permanent damage.

·         Ouch… now remind me again why you were trying o ride your skateboard down the stairs. And you openly admit that you are not good at skating…. Because you saw a video. I am very glad you know it was a dumb idea because at least I don’t have to say it.

·         Ma’am this says analgesic not anal-gesic, the pills are taken orally not as a suppository.

·         You have been bleeding once a month for ten years and you are just now coming in about that? I am sorry, but how old are you again. Yes, ma’am this is very normal, here let me get you a pamphlet to read, and if you have any questions feel free to ask one of the nurses.

·         So you don’t have any medical history. Well are you taking any medications. That sure is a lot of medications for someone who does not have any medical history. This one looks like it is for high blood pressure. Sir just because the medication is helping you manage your high blood pressure does not meant that your high blood pressure is cured.

·         When I say clear liquids that does not include vodka

·         I know vodka does have alcohol in it, but pouring it on your open soar sure did not help anything, and now you are probably going to need a plastic surgeon to fix this.

·         No ma’am you have to put ear drops in both ears. No, the ears are not connected. Yes, your eardrums and you know… your brain are kind of in the way. No there is not a tube that just goes straight through.

·         Please stop licking your wound.

·         Um no, those bumps on your tongue are not cancer…. They are taste buds.

·         Yes, that it a uvula…. Yes, it is supposed to be there.

·         What made you think sticking ice cubes up your anus would help with your fever. Well it will not and now you have frost bite in your rectum.

·         So it was the smell that got you to come in and not the…. Maggots?

 Krill groaned in relief as he went to clock out.

‘Tough day?” Someone asked

“I think something needs to be done about medical education on your planet.”

The human laughs, “We have been trying for more than two thousand years. Good lucky making it any better than it already is.”

 Please, Adam finish your journey of self-discovery soon because if I have to explain how to use a condom one more time, I might just loose it.

[writerforfun]

Underwing Challenge Day 5

What’s your favorite excerpt from this WIP so far?

Making the whole plot really.

Collection: I enjoyed collecting the different sources where I could gain my plot from, things that could inspire me. But gosh did I love writing up each character's outline.

But I really love writing this part for my first tale in this series.

The gloomy atmosphere greeted Mark as he sat alone in the dark. An hour, an hour is all it would take for him to be there, for him to see her one last time, to see her in the being placed beneath the dirt, to say goodbye.

He leaned back, his back gentle hitting the sheets of the bed, giving him comfort, maybe just maybe if he could go to sleep, he would not have to go there at least not to bury her. If only that were possible.

The sheet pulled him with the darkness, the drawn curtains made sure no light entered, his dark black suit of sorrow and the gloomy welcoming care of the atmosphere called him to sleep, with gentle hands of a caring mother, sleepy, that's how he felt, sleepy.

At that moment he wondered 'Is that how she felt too?' His eyes shut at the thought, a single tear fell from his eyes. He could have saved her. He could have saved him. He could have saved both. If John was here then so would she. She would be here along with him but he was not here and now nor was she.

"Hush little baby don't say a word. And never mind the noise you heard. It's just the beast under your bed. In your closet, in your head."

His eyes flew open at the lovely melody. A melody so depressing, so sad. He searched for the source, desperately. His hair covering his eyes shielding him from seeing the truth.

"Hush little baby you're almost dead. Lay down your struggle and rest your head. Calm your mind. Let yourself go. You won't be missed, no one will know"

His eyes looked into the mirror, eyes widening in shock. The mirror stared back, smiling with gleaming joy. The dark image he saw yesterday vanished. A cloud of dark rain pouring blood, of thunder roaring in the mirror. He stared at himself, finally, he saw his reflection if only that would have brought him joy, if only. Smiling his reflection sang.

"Hush little baby it's time to die. Time to scream an unheard goodbye. Your broken song will go unsung. It's sad to lose a life so young."

He rose something shining in the mirror, his hair drenched in blood, thunder crackling at him, his reflection raised the knife. Waving it in front of the real Mark, smiling as tears dripped from his eyes, looking at Mark and then at the knife. Mark knew what it meant, who wouldn't know of it.

Maybe next time it would be him joining his mother and brother.

Only for me to go ahead and do this shit in the next chapter.

"Great job, Mark. You can rest."

Honey eyes glared back through the thick glass, breathing deep into the mask supplying him with life. His head ached and his eyes hurt. God knows, how the dark liquid didn't burn his sight. Lifting his hand up, with great effort he tapped the glass.

His vision blurred, his body ready to collapse. He gazed through towards the darkness, as the distant figure approached him. The speaker boomed

"Subject R, thank you for your cooperation."

Breathing heavily, he nodded, head heavy, eyes dull.

"Your session has expired. Please return."

As the green light emitted above with a loud gong, he watched.

Watched as the liquid drained, his glass cage sucking it away.

Watched at he was lowered down, leaving him on his shaky legs to fall.

Watched as the mask was sucked away from him, leaving him gasping for air.

And watched as the glass lifted, slowly letting the cold air grace his soaked form.

Saw him step through the shadows, his white coat lifting as he came.

"Your control needs work." the man said, as Mark felt his eyes grow heavy.

"Sleep and we shall begin tests again."

"Yes," he said, voice groggy, "Professor Mcherzt" Darkness took him.

But the voice echoed.

Experiment 1034:

4 hours 30 minutes.

The subject seems to be getting better, however, his control is still limited.

Conclusion: Progress.

The experiment is on hiatus.

For now.

To Find the Truth: I started it just I think maybe a day ago and gosh am I loving the process of short stories I will add. I feel really happy with this one. Although it is quite an effort to start if off right now. I have many of the stories down. 14 so far and still looking for more.

Here is what the first story with feature:

The main character (who is a detective) randomly gets a package one day with some numbers and a pair of rusty old glasses.

Upon careful research, she learns what the numbers are. After locating the exact location she finds an empty piece of land until she wears the glasses.

I can't really tell the exact, plot or much more than this but I'm so excited to write this one. And I really hope I can get done with the instruction for this book and get started on the short tales.

Also, please do not use the exact plot prompt if you like it.

Oh, and to keep the two who showed interest updated:

@writerthatcantspell1 @hellishhin

hop you don't mind I tagged you

[writing-frenzy]

Airplane Crossing Over Plots~

Like it says on the tin, these were ideas I had for crossovers involving our fav writer~ (EDIT: Thank you @guiltycorp for inspiring this a bit XD)

Now, I’ve mentioned before, with Airplane choosing the go home option, he ends up still with a golden core in all this mess but he needs to cultivate his body really carefully because of it. (come on, he put in all the time and effort to be an immortal master, he should be able to still have his bad ass skills; not to mention with it being a soul thing, because a golden core is just as spiritual as it is physical, so he will definitely still have it.)

So, sealing his core and having his Nascent Soul outside his body to relieve some of the pressure on it, (having it look like a little chibi SQH that usually hangs out in hoodie pockets or hiding in Airplane’s hair with an aura of disguise around it), Airplane has to go and actually work out, which isn’t too much of a hardship for him at least, seeing as he’s had years to get into a routine and survival instincts kicking in to help him out there.

And, he may have actually started taking school seriously again, actually applying himself, maybe even getting an online accounting job to help supply his income. When he’s steady with that, he finishes PIDW the way he had been leading up to, the ending that makes the most sense and satisfices the writer the most (and if it gives him some closure, he isn’t saying anything about that.) Now that he is finally free from PIDW, and has college and work to worry about, he writes whenever he damn well pleases, and whatever he wants to fuck what anyone says.

(He might or might not write some absolutely filthy porn whenever the mood hits him, and cackles how his fans both greedily read it and cry because his newer works are so tragic, even if they have happy endings at times. Yes, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky is a porn writer, but first and foremost is he an angst writer more~ His fan’s tears and cries just make him stronger kind of writer~)

(I just honestly want Airplane to write what he wants to now, that is one of the biggest motives behind all this honestly)

So, we have the set up :D let’s get to what we can cross over here~

First Up: ~Cutivation Group Chat~

Come on, how can one resist this? Plopping good old Airplane into this wild ride is one of the few things that makes me so happy in life. The thought of it makes me grin, especially since it can go two ways in my opinion~

First way: Airplane replaces Song Shuhang; like, just seeing Airplane, who was an Immortal Master and Teacher in those situations would be so funny, yet intriguing as well to see how he handles it, because you know he’ll be able to, just in ways no one ever expects. (Besides, that werid luck of Shuhang’s would be perfect for him, tho he won’t seek death like the other would~ :D Airplane still has a lovely sense of self-preservation~)

Second way: Airplane is one of Song Shuhang’s roommates. (for this, I’m going to say their Dorm was big enough for five peeps, because I want Airplane to have more friends damn-it.) Just... the imagery of the two neutral disasters getting into so much mayhem and hijinxs together, giving Song Shuhang not only a friend/brother in arms he can always depend and rely on, but also a steady source for learning and cultivation as well :D

(Also, Airplane and Gou Moumou being writer friends, the two of them able to bounce ideas on to each other (oh god, now you have inspired me, how dare you make me write this./hahahaha, you know you want too/ bitch turnabout is fair play/ ah fuck.) also: just the image of Airplane meeting Senior White and being completely unaffected because not only is his survival instincts going in overdrive, but also:

Airplane: ? He’s not my type.

Everyone: *jaws dropped*

:D Anyways~

Second Idea: Card Room (Rebirth)

Now First, for those who don’t know Card Room (Rebirth), this is an action/survival/mystery thriller BL Unlimited Flow type of novel; it follows one Xiao Lou, a medical professor who specializes with examining the dead, and his journeys through multiple rooms after having died in reality, the difficulty of each of these rooms measured with Playing Cards from 2 to K and with different types of rooms being sorted by their suits of Hearts (Mystery), Diamonds (Puzzle), Spade (Survival), Club (Luck/Money). The Goal of the story is to beat all the rooms and return back to the world of the living once more. To aid in this, people can get special cards to help them fight/ take care of their health/ or even just daily life essentials to be able to actually get through places. 

So... this means after getting all used to living once more and getting into his grove in the modern world... Airplane unfortunately kicks the bucket, yet again! Thing is, this time it happened after he played a card game with some of his roommates, I’m going to say poker, and they were betting who would do what chores. Aiplane managed to make out pretty well, and was pleased with it, so was very much bummed when he ended up dying yet again.  He goes through the room, some by the skin of his teeth, but with his cultivation abilities still usable (can’t stop something on a soul level here) he gets by okay. Though, all his cards either deal with writing, supplies, and the rare cultivation one at times.

He gets by at least.

Now, because this series gives me some emotions, here is one thing I will say: Airplane and Liu Ying end up partnering up and break through together, because damn it, Liu Qiao and her sis deserve some damn happiness ;-; Maybe Airplane and Liu Ying meet by chance, Airplane impressed by the young woman’s intelligence and Liu Ying can in turn be grateful for Airplane’s resourcefulness. Maybe even include the original girl that Liu Ying teamed up with, So we have three people already in your team to survive! (because surviving the rooms 2-4 is already damn amazing considering how hellish they get :D ) 

This is a fun crossover for me to imagine honestly, because it would be perfect to showcase Airplane’s skills in logic, reasoning, and pure survival our boy is known for; let that resourceful and logistic riddled mind out to play as he fights to get the fuck out of this world, even if The City of the Moon is beautiful and all.

:D So, those were the ideas I would like to really see, but here is some more for anyone curious:

Honorable Mentions: These are ones I would love to see Airplane accidently going into, and just going yikes, or nope! or even ‘Really?’

Lord of End of World:

... This story, it concerns me greatly; I like the worldbuilding, even has a few really cool girls in it, and I find the protagonist rather curious (to an extent, blackened Gary Stu that he is...) but does it make me cringe at times with the underage theme to it; it’s part of their cultivation and all, but god damn does the way this story push some of it really sqink me out, I had to drop it because it made me so uncomfortable, so just a heads up there. this is one of those stories that makes me want to write spite fiction, but also make me cringe at the thought of remembering it at times.

Anyways, so, how it boils down to it is that this poor guy, known as the Young Master of the Unground Palace, was abused in all the ways one can practically be abused, just so their Master can get stronger themselves by forming the perfect cauldron to absorb, but who manages to kill their master only to die as well. He ends up transmigrating into Gong Lixin, a 16 year old wealthy young master about a year (I believe) before the apocalypse happens... (Like I said, I have so many damn issues with this damn story, I cry.)

Just, on one hand, imagining Airplane in this world also makes me laugh (and maybe hope), because maybe here Gong Lixin could actually learn a cultivation style thats not only suited to him, but also doesn’t need him to dual cultivate all the time and rely on cauldrons (maybe get some needed therapy as well, Airplane knows some peeps; I can dream~), he can have a stable, reliable teacher here who will have no lust or attraction to him, Airplane helping the kid out at first because they look like they’re recovered from a really bad Qi-Devitation and the teacher in him can’t leave that alone. Airplane can also relate with the youth about transmigrating, maybe even telling him about his own time with that. (And Airplane can use his own cultivation to smack around any bitch looking sideways at his student, because fuck that shit, he is only seventeen and traumatized.) Just, turning this story into a cute mentor and discipleship and emotional healing would make me so happy.

Monster Inn Rectification Report

So, this is another Transmigration story~ MC transmigrates as a poor canon fodder son, who would have ended up in a vegetable state after being neglected in favor of the super amazing awesome adopted son. He then goes on to accidently inheriting a supernatural end for Monsters~

Like, this idea makes me grin evilly; though things will change up a bit, since both of Airplane’s parents have already split up and have their own families? Just, the Former An Ding Peak Lord running an Inn? :D Building it from ground up from bascially nothing? :D Oh, man, this man has run worse things, and even a Demon Kingdom, he got you~

Supernatural Movie Actor App

Its a BL about a guy with a split personality who does realistic (as in for real) horror movies through an app, to get his wish to come true.

This actually goes really good with my idea of Airplane wanting to be an actor and all, only to have his dreams crushed :D He doesn’t at first realize what he is getting into when he gets the app, thinking it might be a chance for him to still be able to do his dream, only, surprise, surprise, he ends up entering a real life Horror movie environment~ I’m really curious about what he would dream about~

I Have Medicine

:D Airplane and Gu Zuo interactions make me smile~ these two would be so fun, seeing them bounce off each other would be a treat.

So What if You’re Reborn

.... hahahahahaha, oh, the chaos that could be unleashed in this timeline would be glorious~

Running Away From the Hero

:)

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 51.01 - King’s College, London vs Glasgow

In preparation for tonight’s episode I replaced the flat tyre on my bike, which, if you are like me and refuse to actually take in any information when watching ‘How-To...’ videos, and instead opt to try and wing it, becoming incredibly riled in the process, is one of the only things in the world which has the potential to be infuriating and rewarding in equal measure. 

The maddening moment you realise that you have put the tyre on with the arrows facing in the wrong direction (because who knew that you could put a tyre on backwards) is matched only by the sweaty and oil-stained sense of accomplishment when the machine is finally back in one piece and all pumped up.

Likewise, the watching of an episode of University Challenge ebbs and flows in a similar way, with crushing troughs as you squint with your brain to try and figure out in which language Paxman has asked a question, followed by immense peaks as you pull an answer out of the bag before any of the contestants on the show. The same could probably be said of watching the England national team over the past month and a bit, with the rewarding part coming as a massive surprise to most in this country. 

Anyway, that particular campaign featured a tense 0-0 draw between England and Scotland, and tonight’s series of University Challenge opens with another such encounter, as King’s College, London take on the University of Glasgow (if you’re new around here, you’ll note that I am excellent at segues). 

Glasgow have an odd record of appearing in the opening match of a series, with this being their third consecutive curtain-raiser! The series before that they were on the second episode, and they also opened the batting in 2015. I don’t know what this means, and it probably doesn’t mean anything, but of their previous three such matches, they have a 2-1 record (although they did make it through to the play-offs in their one loss).

Their side this year is comprised of quizzers called Fairbairn and Cairns, whose names surely contain the highest number of consecutive rhyming syllables in the history of adjacent University Challenge contestants. If anyone can beat that please let me know. They also have a massive frog as their mascot. Make of that what you will. King’s are mascotted by a small lion, and have a member called Beard, though he does not have a beard. 

King’s Rashid gets the first starter of the series, recognising three clues relating to the word orange, and the Londoners take two bonuses on historical quotes. Glasgow’s Thomson hits back with Sylvia Plath, but they can only manage one bonus on sportspeople. No matter, Thomson buzzes in with another and they have the lead anyway. 

Neither team recognise the British netball league table for the first picture round, but Fairbairn picks up the bonuses with the next starter on Andre Geim, the first person to have one both an ig Nobel and Nobel prize.

Rashid stops Glasgow’s little run with a brilliant early buzz, and they close back within five points with two bonuses on the actor Lakeith Stanfield. Glasgow captain Cairns hits back with Dave Brubeck (Cairns looks like the kind of guy who would relish a bit of Dave Brubeck, so this is not all that surprising). 

He gets the next starter too, and Thomson recognises Johnny Cash for the music round (in one of the easiest music questions of all time, imo). They then struggled with Alicia Keys (’is that Emile Sande, it would be so embarrasing if we didn’t get Emile Sande’) and Common (’name a modern rapper, please’), before knocking Jay-Z (’is that Jay-Z? Yes, that’s Jay-Z’) out of the park.

A neg from Darulis lets King’s in for the first time in a while, but he makes up for it with Thus Spoke Zarathustra to take the next one. Glasgow are forty five points clear going into the second picture round, but this goes to King’s. The painting in question is A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte which is one of the only paintings I can ever remember the name of, although I was still beaten to the punch by Bedwin, who takes a second ten pointer in a row to put some real pressure on the Scots. 

There is then a neg from King’s, but Glasgow can’t pick it up and Bedwin takes her hat-trick with Helvellyn (she beat me to the punch again on this, despite the fact I climbed Helvellyn on Friday!). All of a sudden there are only five points in it! They could have tied it had they not gone with socialism instead of fascism for one of the previous bonus set, but it didn’t matter in the end because Beard takes the next starter with Tournament of the Field of the Cloth of Gold (although Paxman tells him he would have only needed The Field of the Cloth of Gold part) and there are five points in it the other way. 

They get another ten points with a few bonuses on marine ecosystems and there sounds the gong.

Final Score: King’s College, London 115 - 100 Glasgow

A very low-scoring game that, but entertaining nonetheless. Glasgow seemed very likeable, so its unfortunate that they have to go home, but you can’t be scoring 100 in a series opener and hoping to go through. Congratulations to King’s, who reach the second round for the second year in a row. 

Its good to be back, isn’t it! Thanks for returning if you are returning, and thanks for popping in if its your first time. I do this every week, so I’ll be back soon for UCL vs St Hilda’s College, Oxford

[jamiedc-they-them]

Control Z (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: “Agents of shield x reader where the reader went with Bobbi and the rest of the agents to the safe house to try and take Skye back to HQ and when Skye quakes the bullet away they all fly back; maybe the reader’s leg gets impaled by part of a tree?”

You felt the pain, but you also felt hazy. To you, the world was like a blur, with dark spots dotting around your vision as the sound seemed to be muffled. The main thing you registered was strong arms pulling you back.

You were then placed down on the harsh and cold floor of the Quinjet, as you were you saw something come into your vision; blinking, you saw it was none other than Bobbi Morse.

You had seen the woman worried before, hell you all were going in when you went to get Skye; but now that concern had been paled to you as you were sure you didn’t look the best.

“Y/N? I need you to focus, keep your eyes on me and keep them open.” Was all she asked.

You did your best to oblige and give her into her demand.

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

Grant Ward was someone you had once called a best friend. However, when you met Skye, he had competition about the best friend name. You knew you could have more than one, but this was the position of top best friend.

After Grant Ward betrayed you all, that spot went to Skye in a heartbeat. Despite that, his betrayal had hurt you both more than anyone else.

If anything, it had made you look out for the girl more. Now, you had no ill will towards her old partner, Miles. But…Ward was another thing.

“What is it with you and your choice in men?” You asked, not in a hurting manner; but you still had to ask.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” She said with a small chuckle, “But, if it helps, I’ve changed that…or am trying to,” She thought about her next words; but ultimately decided to say them, “I appreciate this Y/N, really I do. I love you for it….but, my choices are my choices. I just need you to do something for me,” You nodded, “Let me make them, just have my back if they backfire, ok?”

You got the want, “You’d do the same for me,” but you still made that argument, “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Skye looked like she wanted to say something, but ultimately just nodded; knowing that the oncoming fight would be a pointless one.

She knew you would, with how you offered to go instead of Simmons to the HYDRA base, pretty much begging Coulson to let you go.

He, however, denied you; reasoning it as pointless revenge for what had happened to your father. Skye knew he had hit a spot with those words; she had seen the hurt in your eyes and the way his one softened to your figure.

Your father had been killed by HYDRA during the takeover. He knew it wouldn’t heal over night; but he also saw how it made you around the team; even more protective and willing to do anything to help them with their own issues.

 Simmons was outed, and Skye wanted to save her friend. You wanted too as well; however, you kept your eye on your best friend to assess what her next move was going to be. She looked to you in a pleading fashion.

May would not let her go, but she knew you would back her up with her choice, “Skye.” You said, trying to make her reassess her options.

“Look, Y/N, Simmons has been outed...I know May said there’s a plan; but I need one of my own. I could meet my father, Y/N….I need to check.” She argued to you. You sighed, but softened a little and nodded, knowing it would be wrong to try and keep her from at least trying.

“Ok.” Was all you said.

 You both held up flashlights as Skye led you down the alleyway, your lights showed you a number, “450”; then you moved your lights to another door, “451” you both drew your weapons as you slowly approached it.

Skye went on one side, you on the other; she looked at you and you both silently counted to three before opening the door and sweeping the area together.

It was empty, at least for now anyway. There was nothing but your own tense breathing and blue lights that lit up the area. It was run down, very run down by the looks of things.

“Hello?” Skye called out.

“Oh yeah, let’s just announce herself.” You whispered to your friend.

“Shh!” She reprimanded you as you both continued towards a slightly opened door, “Anyone here? You wanted to meet. Well, here I am.” She said you both got closer and closer to the door.

You were there, you were at the door. You and Skye both shared a look, but you took a step back as you let her count herself down before kicking the door in. She went in first, then you followed her. You both checked for anything; only to find nothing instead.

“Where did you go?” Skye asked out loud. You both holstered your weapons as you continued looking around. Instead of being in action mode, now it was sleuthing mode.

However, it didn’t take long for Skye’s flashlight to go over something that made her call out your name. You turned to your friend, before following where her flashlight was pointing; it was pointing to a picture on the floor of a man holding a child.

She picked it up and looked at it, with you looking at it too over her shoulder. The man looked so innocent, as did the child in the picture.

A hand on your shoulder spun you around, with Skye turning with you in case it was a threat. It wasn’t, it was only Coulson.

He looked from the picture to you both, “So he was here?” He asked.

Unshed tears appeared in Skye’s eyes, “Yeah,” She said softly, her voice slightly cracking as she said the words, “I just wanted a glimpse.” She knew that she wasn’t in any real trouble; neither of you were, but she still felt that she needed to try and justify why you had come along with her.

“You’re having one hell of a day, huh?” He asked in a sympathetic tone. The tone made some tears fall as the two shared a hug. Coulson looked to you over Skye’s shoulder, he held out an arm for you as well. You quickly filled that with your own body.

Skye was in the middle of a hug that told her that she wasn’t alone on this, “We’ll find him.” He told her.

“We’ve got you.” You added as you tightened your hold on the two, “We’ll find him, Skye. We’ve got your back all the way.”

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

Jemma was home, you had ran and hugged your friend instantly and tightly; she returned the hug, having missed these a lot.

“Bobbi?” You asked, pulling back from Jemma; you old friend chuckled a bit as she was ready for your hug. You jumped and tackled her into said hug.

“Hey, Y/nn.” She greeted as she pulled away first.

“You saved Jemma?” You asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“She was sent in to be a lookout for me, I wouldn’t have made it without her.” Jemma told you; you, however, just looked between them both happily. Now you had your new friends and your old ones.

“Still running around fixing other people’s problems I see.” Bobbi noted, you looked between the two; as if accusing Jemma of having talked. Bobbi quickly continued, “I’d like to say I knew you, but I know you, Y/nn….I’m just glad you’re alive.”

You knew that there was something in her words; not malice….but something. You, however, looked past it in your elation at seeing both of your friends safe and sound, “You too, Bobbi.”

 Ward was going to be moved, his brother was gong to pick him up. Coulson, knowing it before you would ask, let you go with Skye to talk to Ward.

“Y/N, long time no see.” Ward greeted, smile more disturbing than you’d let on.

“You only speak to them if spoken to; you speak to them out of line or break that rule, and I will walk, just like last time.” She threatened him with a mostly apathetic voice, but you heard the anger that boiled under the surface.

“Which one?” He asked.

“Your older brother, the Senator.” Skye clarified for him.

“Christian. Why? What happened?” He asked as he ran a hand down his face as if he’d been through this before.

“We just need basic information: Habits, places he frequently visits, stuff like that.” She listed off for him.

“He’s not what he seems. He always has an angle. And if he thinks that you can lead him to me…” He said in slight fear of his brother.

“Says the man that had another angle the whole time I knew him for.” You said, letting your own hurt of his betrayal being known.

“This isn’t about you.” Skye said, wanting to get Ward back on track.

“Isn’t it? Don’t you remember what happened at the well, what he made me do? He gets joy from one thing. Hurting people.” For a moment, it looked like Skye as going along with it; so, you kept an extra eye on him, “So tell me, please, does he know I’m here?” He asked one more time.

“Not how it works, Ward. You answer our questions, remember?” She said that moment being forgotten.

“And I always do. I always tell you the truth. But if Christian knows that I’m here –” Skye cut him off.

“You always tell me the truth?”

“Yes.” Skye scoffed at his answer, “I promised you I’d never lie to you. And I haven’t.” He said; the next moment however, he seemed to change tactics, “What’s this really about?”

“I need information about your brother: People, connections –”

“Is this about your father? Because I wasn’t lying about him. He’s alive, and he’s –”

“A monster.” You spoke up, not allowing him to talk in a manipulative way to your friend, again.

“You forgot to mention that detail.” Skye said, in a quieter voice.

“You found him.” Ward said, as if proud of himself.

The next moment, the screen appeared over his cell, you both turning back to see Coulson looking at you both with an unreadable expression.

Coulson told you both that Ward had, in fact, given you something; before berating you both for slipping off track.

As he walked away, Skye looked to you, “I’m sorry that I –”

“No, no. Not your fault. If my old man was still here, I’d probably do the same in your shoes.”

 The next time you saw Grant Ward, he was being led by the guards; yourself and Jemma stood in front of Skye in a protective manner. As he passed you, he looked to Skye, “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” Jemma threatened.

Grant then looked to you, softening slightly at your years of friendship, “See you in hell, asshole.” Was all you said.

 Bobbi had returned later, finding you saw in the main lounge, drinking a drink late at night. She looked at the sight a little fondly, remembering to when you would do that with your father.

Then she remembered what had happened to him.

She entered, taking a seat next to you and just watching you for a few moments before she spoke, “Heard you and Skye spoke to Ward today.” She said, testing the waters.

“Yeah, went great.” You drank a large gulp as you responded.

Bobbi took a moment, thinking about whether or not she should say her next words; however, she eventually went with them, “You know his death wasn’t your fault, right?” the words were blunt; the words were harsh; the words were the last thing you wanted to hear.

You slammed your bottle onto the table as you stood up, pushing yourself up and moving to the other side of the table, putting your hands on your hip as you paced a little before looking at your friend with misty eyes.

“Then whose was it?” You asked, “If not mine, then whose? I wasn’t there, Bobbi! I should’ve been, but I wasn’t. I – I can’t let the others down like that.” You said, voice quivering slightly as you said your words. You quickly wiped at your eyes, as if your friend wasn’t watching you like a hawk during this moment.

“They don’t need you to play overwatch.” Bobbi said, sitting against the table now, closer to you.

“Who else is gonna?”

“Look, what happened to your dad –” You moved to her as she started to talk, pointing a finger at her in anger.

“What happened to him should’ve of! Skye has the chance to see her father, to find some fucking family! I’m gonna get her to them, she deserves that.” You softened your voice as you continued to talk, seeing that you had lost control.

“Agent Y/N,” You both and saw Coulson looking between you both, “I need you.”

 Turned out, he needed you for a lot things, as things spiralled from there; with Ward getting out and Skye’s father making plays. To say you had your hands full would be an understatement.

For yourself, Bobbi and Hunter, it led to you all tailing HYDRA agents while the others tried to find your find, “HYDRA’s here in a bag way. Some abandoned theatre the, “Ponce de Leon.”” Bobbi said as she called Coulson to let him know, “No. And there’s no easy way in. There are at least a dozen HYDRA soldiers inside.” Bobbi said, after a bit more on Coulson’s end, she hung up.

“Ok, they’re on their way to back us up,” She informed you both as she saw your still tense posture, “Y/N,” You looked at her, “We’ll get her back. Skye’s a smart one, she’ll make it.” She assured you.

 The others arrived and you came up with a plan; to stop HYDRA’s drill and then to find Skye. You followed them, taking down any and all HYDRA members in the area. As you continued, you had the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you should be helping in the search for Skye; but here you were instead.

It was right at the end, at the seeming victory that you got the call, “Skye’s still down there.”

 You didn’t talk on the way home; you only ran to find your best friend asleep in a glass cage; basically quarantine.

“Y/N.” Bobbi called out as you stood, staring at Skye; she looked broken in the cell, “Y/N, look at me,” You complied, “Look, this was out of your control –”

“So was my father, Bobbi.” You snapped.

“It was,” You didn’t expect such a blunt statement, “But that, like this, is not your fault. You are not responsible for this.” For once, you listened to her words; you seemed to have some understanding of them.

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You were all in new territory, now just flying in the dark; Jemma was terrified of what had killed Trip and feared that Skye had been infected with some sort of parasite. So, in a way, she was patient zero.

You, however, did all you could to try and visit Skye as much as you could as Coulson would keep sending you on missions to get you away and try and help you not worry about her and this new situation. He knew you would, they all were worried; he just thought that this would be the best way to help you deal with it.

That led to a confrontation with Skye’s father; the guy wasn’t exactly what you wanted him to be for your friend. Right at the current moment, you were with the others and going to confront him and his goons, while using Skye as (sadly) bait to draw him out.

He took it, meeting you all on an abandoned football field; part of it made sense with the different sides and all.

However, this game would be anything but clean. As, while you only had one powered person on your team, they had a few.

You were with Bobbi, fighting against your opponent a woman who had sharp claws as fingers. You had tried to talk her down, however the woman didn’t want to come with you. She swung at you, you ducked as Bobbi used her batons against your assailant. You managed to get a punch in, before you leaned back to dodge another attack.

As you fell back, Bobbi covered for you, sliding over the table and grabbing a towel that she then wrapped around Karla’s hands and threw her into a wall.

“Get back!” Bobbi warned you as she used her batons to hit the table and raise it up, the other end sending Karla back and making her finally fall unconscious.

It was after that when you had felt the vibrations on the floor. Bobbi looked to you and opened her mouth to advice against your next actions, but you were already running out before she could.

“SKYE!” you yelled as the vibrations stopped and your friend started to collapse, you didn’t make it in time, however. Instead, she hit the cold grass with a thud.

 Simmons had made gloves to help suppress her power, to try and help mitigate any further damage to herself.

Bobbi, meanwhile, had vanished for a small time. However, before she had left, she had seemed to ask Andrew to give you a therapy session. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to get out of this one, so you knew you had to go.

So, now you sat with Andrew opposite you, with one of his arms swung over the sofa his on to try and get himself comfortable; you, meanwhile, were tense.

“Y/N, I know you don’t want to be here. But I do appreciate it.” Andrew said, his words sounded honest; but he could tell you were still thinking about other things other than this moment.

“Yeah, well, you get more money for this and Bobbi gets to do whatever she wants to do without my constant badgering so, you know.” You said.

Andrew laughed a little, “I know you’re worried about Skye, but you have no need to be –” He tried to assure you of that; but you spoke over him.

“Of course, I am, I’m her friend and she’s going through something right now and no one is there to help her.” You said in a defensive manner.

“Everyone is doing their best for her –” Again, you stopped him; but he didn’t seem to mind.

“They’re shit terrified of her.” He caught onto your wording.

“And you aren’t?”

“For her, sure; but not of her.” You clarified.

“I see, so your own issues don’t really matter?” He asked, seeming to fin something to bring it full circle, back to you.

“I know what you’re trying to do. And I’m onto you.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“And what is that?” He asked in a slightly playful voice; maybe he did enjoy his job after all.

“Trying to get me to open up about my issues rather than think about my friends’. It’s cute. But, out of them, Bobbi and I are the oldest, so I’ll do what I need to for them.”

“Ah, so it’s a big sibling motivation driving you.” He said. Now he was getting somewhere.

“I guess, even if I didn’t have one.” You said, having never really looked at it that way before; you had to give him that.

“Maybe it’s more a of an almost parental thing. After what happened with your dad –”

“….He was always involved in my life for as long as I could remember,” You said, deciding to just come out with it, “I mean, I guess I got lucky there,” You let out a humourless laugh, thoughts going back to your friend who was locked up, “And he….he never let me in on his – So – So when HYDRA….” You trailed off, feeling yourself feel the guilt and pain.

However, for once, you felt the comforting presence that your friend had ordered to be by your side; seemed Bobbi knew you better than you gave her credit for, “I just….One minute he was there, then he was gone. I just want Skye to have a moment with her father.” You admitted, more tears appearing in your eyes as you pretty much laid yourself bare.

“I know Coulson’s trying to fill that void, and I appreciate it. But I can’t control my own shit. But, maybe by doing this for Skye, I can.” Although, part of you knew how flimsy the justification was. How flimsy and how many holes that answer actually had.

You still stuck with it, however.

“Did you ever get to say goodbye to him?” He asked. As he did, you finally let out a sob. As that happened, however, your best friend just happened to be walking past the room, she looked in and saw you breaking down.

She wanted nothing more than to go and comfort you, but she then remembered what Coulson had told her; about how she needed to be moved.

“Goodbye Y/N, see you in a little while, hopefully.” She said under her breath as she continued to watch you talk to Andrew about your father.

She was happy for you, she was, that you were starting to try and heal. But, then again, she also knew that she’d miss you and knew how you’d most likely react.

 After your talk with Andrew, you had felt a little better. But now you were being attacked by someone else.

“Y/N,” May called out your name as they both approached you, “Come one.” Was all she said simply.

You, her and Fitz met up with Coulson as May revealed what was going on, “It’s Bobbi. She’s set off some kind of EMP. She’s gone.” You looked between the older pair with wide eyes.

“What?” You asked.

 Now you had two people you called friends stabbing you in the back; and just to add to that, Skye was gone. You tried to find a place to hide, but you then came face to face with the woman herself.

“You fucking bitch!” You cried out as you swung for her, she dodged and then grabbed both of your arms to restrain you; as other agent’s pulled out their weapons.

“Y/N, Y/N calm down! Calm down!” She ordered you as you still struggled against her.

“We’ve found where Skye is, she’s in trouble.” Those words made you stop; but you still glared at your friend.

“Oh god, now we’re bringing them with us?” The bald one said. You already didn’t like him.

“Where is she?”

 She was being hounded by SHIELD like she was a threat, you all ran as quickly as your legs could take you to find her. You had, heart racing as you saw her holding a gun to a downed agent.

However, a gun click then made you look at the bold one, “SKYE!” You cried out, she turned to you as the bullet went off. However, the next moment, a pulse knocked you all back and onto the ground.

You were hazy, but you felt a slight pain in your leg.

Skye looked at the destruction she caused, but then she saw the piece of bark that was impaled in your leg. You had only tried to help her, and she had hurt you in the process.

So, she did the only thing she could to keep you safe; she called Gordan and ran.

 Bobbi had pulled you onto the Quinjet, the thing immediately took off as she made damn sure to keep you breathing and alive. You were her friend, but you were also Skye’s; and she knew that her other friend would feel mountains of guilt if you bled out because of her own actions.

As soon as it landed, Bobbi called out for Simmons; not a medic, but Simmons. She knew that your friend would be the only one you’d trust in the state you were in.

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Jemma said in one breath as she ran to you and helped get you into a bed, “Clear the room!” She ordered everyone else; when they didn’t move, she turned to them, “I said out!”

“Come on you guys.” Bobbi said, helping clear the area. Then it was just you and Jemma.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jemma said in a quivering voice; she never liked to see anyone hurt, but especially not any of her friends.

“Just….just pull the damn bark out.” You told her; she took your hand for a moment before she nodded.

“Alright, you’ll need something to –”

“I can be here; I can hold their hand.” Bobbi offered, knowing she was on uneven ground with Jemma as a friend; but right now, you were a common goal they both shared, to save you.

“Fine.” The British woman conceded; Bobbi moved and grabbed your hand, squeezing it to try and prepare you.

Finally, the bark was removed, and you let out your own scream. Your own bark of pain.

You finally laid back down in your bed as Jemma tied a bandage around said wound.  As she did so, Bobbi only kept your eyes on you.

“Did you speak to Andrew?” She asked, trying to keep you distracted; you nodded before grimacing in discomfort for a moment.

“Yeah, guy’s good.” You admitted as Jemma finished and moved to stand next to Bobbi so you wouldn’t have to strain yourself.

“Knew it.” Bobbi said with a smile, one that shook as she was worried about damaging your friendship.

“So, REAL SHIELD, huh?” You asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, long story.” She said.

“Well, I’m sure you can catch me up for as long as I’ll be in here for.” She now looked at you a bit confused, “What you did was shitty; but I’m not going to be going anywhere until this is done healing and until doctor Simmons lets me out,” Simmons gave you a caring smile, despite the tense situation SHIELD was currently in, “Besides, what’s Skye is going through is something I can’t help her with. At least, not on my own. So, we’ve got time until we find her.”

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Your leg had healed just as they were about to go on a mission to try and find Mike Peterson and another Inhuman that had been with Skye. You, of course, volunteered to go, both to save Mike/Inhuman, but also for Skye.

However, the catch as that you needed to work with Ward, so an old friend was coming back into your life one more time.

As you did, one person on your list show up to look at you all from above, “Hey guys.” She said, leaving you all elated.

You hugged your friend, but not tightly; it was still a comforting hug to you both. She hugged you back, taking this as a moment of forgiveness for her. She had better control of your power, but she still worried about whether or not you made it out.

This showed her that you had made it, and that you harboured no ill will towards her for what had happened.

“So, new guy….?” You said in a suggestive voice; Skye rolled her eyes but knew that you could always read her easily.

“There’s nothing thee….not yet anyway.” She said, you chuckled at her words.

 Ward was then in the room, seemingly confused as to why you had all stopped talking and only looked at him with death glares. So, he tried to address the elephant in the room; his betrayal.

“Y/N….I’m sorry about what I did to your father.” He said, you only kept a firm look at him; but Skye moved her hand into yours.

“You don’t talk to her about that.” She said, defending you; she squeezed your hand in a sisterly, loving fashion.

“Ok, ok.” Ward said, raising his hands up in the air, getting the message.

 He led you to the HYDRA facility to find the guy (Lincoln) and Mike. You followed Skye, making sure to keep him apart from Skye as you all walked and followed Ward. The door opened, and you all instantly got hit by gunfire.

Getting behind cover, you fired a few shots, before ducking back down again on your bad leg. While it had healed, the pain was still there.

Skye noticed your shift on you leg, she knew she had to take care of them quickly. She ran out of cover and held her hand out, the next moment, the HYDRA agents flew backwards.

“Thanks.” You said as she helped you up.

“What are friends for?” She responded with as she helped you up and you all continued on your way.

 As you went with Skye, you both came across a few agents; together, you both made your way through them, both working in sync as all the HYDRA guards went to none. Finally, you both shared a nod as you made your way into the room that held Lincoln.

However, the flatline was the only thing you heard, “Hey, hey, hey.” You said, Skye looked up at you, “You can rumble shit, right?” She nodded, “You can save him. You got this.” You told her. She held her hands over his chest and pushed down.

After she did, the machine beeped.

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Skye….Daisy’s mother was gone, as was her father via amnesia. She had gone to her room when she got back, but you heard the crying on the other side.

“Daisy?” You asked, knocking on the door. You waited a moment before the door opened, with a tear-stricken Daisy Johnson on the other side, “Oh, honey.” You said sympathetically as you hugged her and closed the door behind you as she broke down in your arms.

“They’re gone Y/N! They’re gone! It’s not fair!” She cried into your shirt as you ran a hand up and down her back as you pressed your lips onto her head.

“I know it’s not, Daisy. Death never is,” You pulled away and waited until she met your eyes, “But you know what helps?” You asked.

“What?” She asked as she sniffled.

You smiled softly at her, “Talking about it, as it turns out.” You said, sitting on the bed with her.

You knew you couldn’t solve it for her, and that was just a truth you had to live with. But there was something you did know; and that was that you could do the one thing you should’ve been doing in the first place; supporting her.

So, here you were, doing just that

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 10: Premonitions]

Several weeks and depressive episodes later...I’m BACK! 😃

And guess what: we’re officially approximately halfway done with BYCNL! (There will probably be nineteen chapters total.)  

The Queen/BoRhap fandom is feeling extra quiet lately, so if you’re still out there I’d LOVE it if you dropped me a comment/message/etc to let me know! I appreciate you all so much and hope you are finding things that bring you happiness, fulfillment, and peace. 💜

Chapter summary: Roger makes a purchase, Freddie makes a friend, Y/N makes an unsettling discovery, John makes a bewildering request.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, babies (but not your babies...or are they?!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 😊

“Roger, this is too much.” Your sandals click on the marble tile floor, a sandy gold like the beaches of Ostia. You peer up at the winding staircase, the Tudor-style diamond windows, the chandelier dripping with crystals. “This is way, way, way too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much,” he parries merrily. “And look!” He pulls back an armful of sheer white curtains that had obscured the backyard. “The pool has a slide!”

You smile because you have to; he’s so elated, so young. “Roger, baby, unless you’re planning to acquire a literal harem of women we will never have a use for six bedrooms.”

“Sure we will!” He counts on his rugged fingers. “There’s one for us, and one can be the guest bedroom for when my mother or your parents visit, and then there’s one for if Chrissie ever wises up and leaves that wanker Brian and requires a place to stay between husbands, and one for when John needs an escape from that mind-numbing domestic purgatory of his, and one for Freddie’s overflow cats...” Roger trails off. He’s lost track.  

“That still leaves one unnecessary bedroom.”

He grins. “One for Roger Junior.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s a wonderful home for children,” the real estate agent chimes, flitting around rearranging pillows and dusting off tabletops. “Plenty of space to spread out in, lots of bedrooms, fenced-in yard, security gate, spectacular school district...and such a lovely garden to explore! Does your wife garden?” she asks Roger.

“Girlfriend,” he corrects. “And no, she’s thoroughly useless in the agricultural department.”

You laugh and shove him away. “I have other talents.”

“You certainly do.” He growls as he grips your waist, inhales you, bites playfully down your neck and collarbones. The real estate agent raises her eyebrows, but politely averts her gaze and pretends to check if an artificial fern needs watering.

It’s the downturn of August, 1976. The sun is glaring and hot and spills in through the windows, setting the metallic flecks in the marble floor alight. It makes you think of the Yellow Brick Road, of fantasies built piece by piece into truth. John and Veronica bought a house in Putney, Brian and Chrissie a far larger one in Chelsea, Freddie and Mary a posh flat in West Kensington. Roger has his heart set on nothing less than a Surrey mansion. On the rare occasion that Queen has been home since the start of the A Night At The Opera Tour, you and Roger stay in his shabby—dodgy, you remind yourself—old apartment and pack boxes late into the evening, giggling over all the random and ancient relics you stumble across, sticks of Freddie’s eyeliner and dust bunnies tangled in strands of Brian’s spiraled hair, crumpled up spheres of paper with excerpts of songs scrawled on them, fossilized crusts of grilled cheese sandwiches beneath the couch. Queen is preparing for a brief UK tour at the start of September, including a free concert in Hyde Park organized by entrepreneur Richard Branson. Then it’ll be back to the studio to record their next album, a highly anticipated album, an album that will make millions regardless of what’s on it; and what’s on it, in your humble and musically unlearned opinion, is pretty goddamn great.

“Seriously,” Roger prompts, quietly now. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it. I love it. I just don’t need it.”

He grins. “I know you don’t need it. But I do.”

“That list of yours is getting awfully long.”

“You have no idea. We haven’t even started on the exotic pet collection yet.”

“There’s a marvelous koi pond out in the backyard,” the real estate agent says. “You could add turtles, and frogs, and all different types of fish. I can recommend sturgeon, they have such an alluring primeval sort of look to them, and the shimmer on shubunkins is just delightful...”

“You heard the lady.” Rog stretches his right hand like he does when his arm bothers him, when the bone that will never fully heal aches like something ancient and irredeemable, like hunger, like unrequited love: fingertips sprayed outwards, then folded into his palm, then outwards again.

“Rog...I don’t know.”

“Come on, baby! It has everything. Roman-style master bath. Bedrooms with mirrors on the ceiling. Space for my own studio. Land. Enormous refrigerators. You’ll have abundant room for John’s drawings.”

“Ohhh, now that’s true.” John is always adding to your collection, slipping you sketches as the boys scurry around getting ready before a show, during songwriting sessions that last long after midnight, when the band and its expanding circle of friends and family gather for birthdays and holidays. You don’t ask him about You’re My Best Friend, or, come to think of it, any of his other songs. You don’t ask him how he feels about his new life as a husband and father. And in return, John doesn’t ask whether you’re ever going to marry Roger, if you even want to, if you worry about what the future holds. It’s a loaded peace, but a comfortable one. A safe one.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Roger asks suddenly. “The girlfriend thing. The not-wife thing.”

“No,” you reply, smiling. “Of course not.” Roger isn’t someone who pens love letters, recites all the reasons why he cannot live without you, sings love songs. He rarely speaks of love at all. Roger is as he always is: all action, all energy, eyes forever looking forward. But he does love you; you’re sure he does. Everything he does bleeds with love.

“Good. Because there’s no one I’d rather acquire a harem and zoological park with.”

“Okay,” you relent. “But no lions or tigers or bears. I’m quite attached to your limbs, and you’ve come close enough to ruining them already.”

“Deal.” He taps the Canon that hangs from your shoulder by its strap. “We should document this momentous juncture. One day we can pull out the photo album and show Roger Junior. ‘Hey look kid, this was the day Mum and Dad bought the house you were conceived in.’”

You laugh, almost positive that Roger isn’t serious. “I can guarantee you that precisely zero percent of children would ever want to hear that.” Nevertheless, you ready the camera and hold it as far away as you can, the lens aimed towards you.

“Don’t forget to smile!” Roger trills in his high, victorious voice as he rests his chin in the dip of your collarbone.

You snap the photo. The flash bursts through the kitchen of the Surrey mansion, blinding you both. The artificial bluish light dissipates like smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~

His name is Laszlo, and he’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen...even when he’s not especially well-mannered.

Currently, Laszlo—an Eastern European moniker from somewhere in his mother’s comically vast family tree—is whimpering and squirming against Veronica’s chest as she pats his tiny back and sighs wearily. Veronica, ever the good Polish Catholic wife, is already pregnant again. Chrissie smirks triumphantly and puffs on a cigarette, her rings glimmering on her left hand, her dress violet and new and very expensive. Brian is lost in some deep intellectual conversation with Richard Branson, gesturing with his long nimble hands and nodding empathetically, his dark curls rustling in the breeze like the lithe branches of a willow tree.

“Thank god you’re here,” John calls as you and Roger approach. “Freddie is about to get this concert cancelled.”

“I’m about to make this concert fabulous, darling,” Freddie objects. “We need pyrotechnics, we need sparklers and explosions and fireworks!”

Mr. Branson shakes his head. “Can’t do it, Fred. The embers could travel and set the trees on fire.”

Freddie groans. “Tell him, Roger!”

Roger shrugs, grinning, resting his elbow on John’s shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t burn down Hyde Park.”

“You’ll be under a huge orange canopy, right over there.” Mr. Branson motions with a sweep of his arm. “You can’t do anything aerial. Flashing lights, sure. Fog, sure. But no fire. No explosions. Oh, and there’s technically a noise ordinance, but we’re working out a deal so the city won’t enforce it on the day of the show.”

“Orange?!” Freddie squeals.

“How will the acoustics be in a tent?” Brian asks, troubled.

John smiles mischievously. “Yes, how dreadful if no one could hear the extraneous guitar solos.”

“I have a gong, Rich,” Roger says. “Everyone will be able to hear my gong, right?”

“Your gong?” Freddie whines. “What about my voice?!”

“I miss stadiums,” Roger grumbles. You exchange a knowing glance with Mary and Chris and Veronica, who is imploring Laszlo to take a bottle. Our boys are difficult, aren’t they?

“The acoustics will be fine,” Mr. Branson snaps. “The tent color will be fine. Everything will be fine. You don’t need any fucking fireworks. Please for the love of god just tell me what kind of sandwiches you want.”

“That’ll be an ordeal as well,” Chrissie quips, and you all laugh; even Laszlo perks up, stops wriggling, glimpses around the open green space with curious greyish eyes like John’s.

Some teenage employee carrying a tangle of cables trots over, sweat dripping down his flushed freckled cheeks. “Mr. Branson? There’s someone from the city here to see you.”

Richard Branson smacks his forehead. “Jesus christ. Okay, I’ll be right there. Hey, Steve, hey, have you seen Dom? Go find Dom and tell her to come over here, okay? Thanks.”

The teenage employee nods and disappears into a sea of bustling people ferrying equipment, fliers, chairs, messages.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Mr. Branson says. “These city bastards are out to crucify me. You’d think they’d be a little more grateful that Queen of all bands is willing to put on a free concert in their backyard, but alas. Hey, Dom, over here!”

He waves to a petite young woman with a glossy shock of black hair and olive Mediterranean skin. She’s wearing all yellow: shorts patterned with daffodils, a tank top the color of butter, a headband like a sunbeam. One of her trim arms is cradling a notebook; the other reaches out so she can shake hands with everyone. The gesture is courteous but somewhat unnatural.

“This,” Mr. Branson begins, “is my personal assistant Dominique. She’s wonderful, she’ll listen to all your pretentious tales of woe and do it with a smile, because she’s a true professional. Better yet, she’s going to ask you the tedious questions I was supposed to so you don’t have to wait for me to finish sparring with the city council. Okay? Okay. Have fun. I’ll be back.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Dom says placidly in a heavy French accent. So that’s why her handshake was off somehow, stilted and weak; the French usually kiss as a greeting. You choke back a snort as you imagine Veronica’s reaction to that. Mr. Branson stalks away muttering about litigious twats.

“Oh, aren’t you just darling!” Freddie circles Dom, admiring her outfit, her hair, her gold hoop earrings. He wafts his cigarette around flamboyantly, completely forgetting to smoke it. “The French are so tasteful, aren’t they? You simply must connect me with your stylist.”

“I would be happy to, Mr. Mercury. But regrettably, I am my own stylist.”

“Ahh!” Freddie exhales, enamored. Mary lifts Laszlo from Veronica’s tired arms and cradles him, tickles his nose, beams down into his fresh and inquisitive face.

Dom pulls a pen from her shirt pocket. “May I ask your sandwich preferences for the day of the show?”

She immediately receives four very different answers, and she raises an eyebrow, her pen hovering over the lined paper of her notebook.

“I’m so sorry about them,” Chrissie says, and Dom chuckles civilly.

“Ham and cheddar,” Freddie tells her, synthesizing the responses. “Bacon, fried fish, steak and onion jam...and something for Brian. Cucumber maybe. Could we get some cucumber sandwiches, dear?”

“You’re a vegetarian?” Dom asks Brian, jotting down notes.

“He’s morally superior to us in every way,” John sighs dreamily, and Rog and Freddie cackle.

“I’m not a strict vegetarian,” Bri clarifies. “But for the sake of the animals and the planet, I try to limit meat when I can.”

Roger adds: “And I order twice as much of it, just to spite him.”

Dominique leads Queen around the portion of Hyde Park where the concert will be held, runs through the itinerary, fields a litany of questions and complaints. And you decide that you like Dom; she’s professional and reserved, yes, but she’s also patient with Freddie, smiles at his jokes, compliments his black-and-yellow striped shirt (“We match, and you remind me of a...oh, what’s the word in English? That bug...it flies around buzzing...buzz buzz...a bee!”), asks him what he’s planning to wear to the show. She assuages Brian, listens to John, takes the time to chat with the women about children, makeup, homes, what it’s like to be in love with rock stars. But Dom mostly ignores Roger, dodges his grins, remains staunchly undazzled. And that would worry you—because Roger loves the chase, you know that firsthand—if he hadn’t already taught you how to trust him, how addictively flawless and exhilarating life with Roger Taylor could be.

When Laszlo begins to fuss in Mary’s grasp, you take your turn holding him; and he blinks up at you with eyes that are wide and clear and seeking, and you find yourself feeling like you always do when you’re around your godson: like maybe you have a stronger opinion about wanting children than you thought you did, like you can’t stop envisioning a baby with Roger’s eyes instead of John’s.

That evening—after leaving Hyde Park, after dinner, after drinks mixed out by the koi pond—as you doze in a sweltering bubble bath and steam curls through the air, you hear Roger’s voice floating from the kitchen downstairs. You rise out of the tub, towel yourself off, slip into a white silk robe as rivulets of bathwater slink down the back of your neck. You tread gingerly towards the kitchen, keep silent so you can hear, lurk in the shadows of the hallway with your palms pressed flat against the wallpaper.

“Hello, is Dominique Beyrand in?” Roger says into the kitchen phone. “I’ve been trying to track her down. Sure, I’ll wait. Thanks.” After a pause, he continues. “Hi, Dom! It’s Roger Taylor, from Queen. The irritating blond one. I was just wondering if you’d happened to stumble across my wallet since this afternoon, I seem to have misplaced it. Oh, you haven’t? Bloody hell. Well, thank you for taking my call. Aw, that’s so kind of you, I’m sure I’ll locate it eventually. I’ve got a terrible habit of losing things. Okay, thanks so much. Goodnight to you too. See you soon. Cheers.” He hangs the phone up as you step into the kitchen. His smile is bright and innocuous. “Hey, baby!”

“Who was that?” Your tone is similarly casual; or so you hope.

“Just Richard Branson’s assistant. That French woman Dominique. I can’t find my wallet and thought I might have left it at Hyde Park, but no dice. Oh well.”

Roger begins rummaging through the drawer full of business cards and address books, tapping his foot, humming to himself. And surely he isn’t trying to avoid my eyes. Your gaze skates over the marble countertop. There, by the refrigerator, just a few feet—a meter, you correct yourself to be properly British—from where Roger stands, is his black leather wallet.

“It’s right there, Rog,” you say, pointing. And now your voice isn’t so nonchalant.

Roger spins to check. “Oh my god, I completely missed it!” He snatches up the wallet with a celebratory chuckle. “I’m such a twit sometimes. You’re too fucking smart, you know that? You’re making me look bad.”

He rushes to you, takes your left hand, bites your knuckles lightly like he did outside Massachusetts General Hospital under dawn skies over two years ago. And then Roger whispers to you, nuzzling your neck scented with lavender soap and doubt.

“Let’s go to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a knock at the door. John is standing on the front porch of the Surrey house with his hands in his pockets and a vague sort of smile on his face. He’s in a black suit.

“Get ready,” he says. “Do your hair, throw on some earrings. Maybe the pearls Roger got you last Christmas. We’re going shopping.”

“Why do I need to look fancy to go shopping?”

John shrugs, feigning indifference; but the puckish glint in his eyes gives him away. Yet there’s something a little sad and weighty in them too, isn’t there?

Your own eyes narrow. “I’m onto you, bassist.”

He laughs as you tug teasingly at a lock of his downy hair. “You always are.”

John takes you to a dress shop on Bond Street where the corsets trickle with gemstones and the designers all have Italian names: Armani, Prada, Abate, Cerruti, Valentino, Biagiotti. He sinks into a leather chair just outside the fitting room and lights a cigarette, takes a long drag, points to you with the lit end.

“Go ahead. Go wild. It’s a blank check.”

“Really?!” You glance around the shop, your pulse racing. “But I don’t know the occasion. I don’t want to be underdressed or overdressed or whatever. Although I don’t think I’ve ever been overdressed in my life.”

“Yes, you can’t seem to shake those pragmatic service industry roots, can you?” Another drag. “You need a dress and matching shoes. Formal, but not too formal. Think a record company party. Elegant but exciting. Lots of sparkle. Slightly slutty, if you’re so inclined.”

“This is an unconventional bonding activity,” you tell John, trying to conceal your nerves.

“Love, this isn’t something you can fail at,” he says, gently now. “You’re going to look amazing no matter what. So just have fun with it. This isn’t a test. This is one of those adventures you’re always searching for.”

I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage; that’s what Roger once told you. But maybe you don’t always want to be quite so free, so unmoored. “Okay. But you have to swear to give honest opinions. I don’t want to show up looking like a wombat because you were too nice to say anything.”

John just chuckles to himself, shakes his head, devours cigarette after cigarette.

With the assistance of one of the shop employees, you climb into a pastel pink dress with a full ruffled skirt, an emerald green dress with an empire waist and loose sheer sleeves, a shimmering metallic silvery dress with a form-fitting silhouette. John nods at all of them, wholeheartedly approves, defers to your judgment. He periodically consults his wristwatch as he taps his cigarettes on the rim of an ashtray, and deflects your questions when you ask him why. Then you step out of the fitting room—balanced on gold heels—in a white dress with a hem that hits just above your knees, a halter neckline, a slim keyhole down the center of your chest; and John’s cigarette tumbles out of his fingers.

“That’s the one,” he breathes, soaking it in. Then he asks the employee to cut off all the tags and whips out his wallet. “Toss your old clothes and shoes in a bag. We gotta catch a cab.”

“We’re going straight to the party?”

“We certainly are.”

“What the hell kind of ridiculously lame party starts at 3 p.m.?”

John smirks craftily. “The kind of party we’re going to. Let’s rock and roll, Florence Nightingale.”

John gives the taxi driver an address and you sail through the streets of London, splashing through shallow evaporating puddles, squinting when sunlight ricochets glaringly off the slick pavement. The taxi rolls to a stop outside of a grand stone building with columns and intricate carvings of leaves and flowers. The sign outside reads: Kensington and Chelsea Register Office.

You turn to John. “Who’s getting married?!”

He just smiles, a deep harbor of secrets.

“It’s Fred and Mary, right? Jesus christ, John, you can’t wear white to someone else’s wedding, Mary’s going to strangle me—”

“It’s not Mary’s wedding.”

Slowly, your jaw falls open. “No,” you whisper in disbelief.

John darts out of the taxi, jogs around to your side, and opens the door for you. You gape up at him senselessly, struggling to remember how to form sentences.

“John...this...this is some bizarre and elaborate joke, right?”

“Nope.” He offers his hand, helps you out of the taxi, leads you up the front steps of the Register Office. Inside, everyone is waiting: Freddie and Mary, Brian and Chrissie, Veronica with babbling baby Laszlo, Roger’s mother and sister...and Roger, of course, in his best black suit and bleached blond hair and trademark guaranteed-to-dazzle (unless of course you’re Dominique Beyrand) grin. He flies to you and takes your hands in his.

“You look incredible, baby.”

“Roger, what’s going on...?”

“Don’t freak out,” he commands, and instantly your panic vanishes. There’s a pink rose pinned to his lapel. “I know we don’t feel like we need to get married. I know we agree it doesn’t mean anything.” Is that still true? “So don’t think that this is about trying to trap you or control you or bullshit white picket fences or anything. And of course you can say no, I won’t be mad, no one will hold that against you, we can find some other reason to party. But the simple facts are that I’m a British national with a mansion and a plethora of perpetual royalties and you’re an American here on a work visa, and the law gets a bit thorny in this situation. And I want to make sure you’re taken care of if something happens to me. That you can carry out my wishes. That you can stay here with the band as long as you want to. So, I’ve got your passport and birth certificate and everything else we need...and some overly-enthusiastic witnesses. Are you cool with signing a piece of paper today?”

“Of course she bloody well is!” Freddie exclaims, and everyone laughs. Mary is carrying a basket full of champagne flutes, Chrissie several bottles of pink champagne, Roger’s sister a tub of ice. Brian has been entrusted to chronicle the event with your Canon. Veronica is more giddy than you’ve ever seen her, even more animated than she was at her own wedding. Well, I suppose she doesn’t have to worry about any illicit pregnancies or condemnatory great aunts this time around.

“Okay,” you tell Roger. And you wish you weren’t beaming so broadly your cheeks ache, because it feels a little pathetic to be this happy about an admittedly meaningless wedding. But it does make you happy, your general aversion towards conventionality be damned.

You sign papers and you toast glasses and you giggle uproariously in the lobby of the Register Office with the best friends you’ve ever had, guzzle pink champagne, pose for photos, take your turn holding Laszlo, kiss Roger beneath the stone arch of the centuries-old building.

It doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, suddenly very aware of the missing weight of a ring on your left hand. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.

But you catch a few furtive glances between Chrissie and Bri, the twist of a frown on Freddie’s face when he thinks no one is watching, the distance in John’s shadowy eyes as he inhales champagne like air.

It doesn’t mean anything.

[dudeandduchess]

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: We and Us [TEASER] (Fluff, Time Travel AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: (Y/n) takes a vacation to Japan with her best friend and prays to meet her soulmate, only fate gives her a mile instead of an inch and she meets Rengoku Kyōjurō— the Flame Hashira in the manga that she had been reading. Right before his last mission, no less, so it’s up to her to save him.

Note: This is a mix of isekai and time travel. I’ll try to explain things as best as I can within the story, but please take everything at face value. Enjoy, bbys!

(Y/n) will be the usual, but (F/n) will stand for Friend’s Name.

Also, please let me know if y’all like it so far and if I should continue writing it. 😂 Thank you, bbys.

***

It was the same dream again; the very same one that had kept on plaguing (Y/n) ever since she had landed in Tokyo with her best friend.

She had only ever seen the scene in the Kimetsu no Yaiba manga, but it all looked so vivid in her mind. Too vivid, in fact, that it had unsettled her enough to have her sitting up in the double bed in the hotel room that she and (F/n) shared.

For the third night in a row, the dream— no, the nightmare— had managed to reduce her to tears again.

Maybe she was crazy for feeling so much for someone who wasn’t real, but she couldn’t help her reaction. When she had opened her eyes, her face was already wet with tears— and no matter how hard she tried to wipe them away, they wouldn’t cease falling.

And, for once, she wanted to wake (F/n) up so she could get one of her comforting hugs— but she didn’t want to put a damper on such a momentous vacation for them. After all, they had saved up so much money just to afford going to Tokyo in the first place.

She wouldn’t ruin the next day with something that would fade away into nothingness later on.

But she would be lying if she said that it didn’t hurt to watch Rengoku Kyōjurō die over and over again— even if it was only in her dreams.

All she could do, however, was lay back down and curl into a ball to clutch one of her pillows close to her chest; burrowing her face into the fresh-smelling linen and trying to will away the haunting images that kept playing in her mind.

Her heart felt like it was breaking a million times over, yet she couldn’t exactly explain why that was. So, she closed her eyes and started counting— if only to get her racing mind to calm down.

Thankfully, sleep finally caught up to her; albeit restless and unfulfilling.

‘Don’t worry about me dying here.’

***

“You seem really off today, is something wrong, (Y/n)?” (F/n) asked as she nudged her best friend with her elbow, sending the other woman jumping a little in surprise; as if she had been suddenly shaken from some deep and all-consuming thought.

In response, (Y/n) forced a smile on her face and shook her head. She really did feel so drained, especially with a constant heaviness weighing down on her shoulders. Especially when she had stepped onto the small tram that would lead them to Setagaya; it was as if her chest had gotten so tight at some unknown factor that plagued her every waking move.

Not even the pretty hydrangeas that lined either side of the tracks were enough to make her feel better. And it felt like such a waste to be there, as the hydrangeas were what she had wanted to see the most.

“I just had a really weird dream last night. It was of Kyō dying…” (Y/n) admitted with a slight huff of a laugh, trying to make light of the situation with some humor— but she couldn’t say anything more as she felt her best friend’s arms wrap around her tightly.

(Y/n) had to admit that it was a little surprising, but she wasn’t entirely opposed to it; as it felt so warm and comforting, especially with rain outside making the world look dreary and cold.

And slowly, she found herself grinning as she tried to push (F/n) off; before bursting out into a tiny fit of giggles when the arms around her only got tighter.

“Okay, okay, I feel better now. You can let go of me.”

With a laugh, (F/n) stepped back and patted the top of (Y/n)’s head, making the latter curl her upper lip at how playfully condescending that was. But it did its job in taking her mind off of her nightmare, which was all that mattered.

And so, with much a brighter mood, (Y/n) looked out of the tram window and giddily waited for their stop— so she could get a feel of what Kyōjurō’s hometown would have been like. After all, the databook had mentioned him living in Setagawa; so it was ticking off two nocks in one move, with her hydrangea sightseeing, as well as touring Setagawa.

When they got to their station, both women wasted no time in walking to the nearby temple— Tsurumaki Jisso-in. It was a really quaint place, but it felt so tranquil to step into; as if they were being transported through time.

Every step that (Y/n) took, she could feel her emotions beginning to bubble to the surface— feeling so light and heavy at the same time, like some part of her was being welcomed back to the place.

But that wasn’t the most unsettling instance for her; that was when she was deep in prayer already— thanking the gods for bringing her to Japan with her best friend, and for giving her such good fortune up to that day.

After all, she knew that she was luckier than most for just having the opportunity to have a roof above her head and three (or more) meals a day. Let alone the fact that she could have saved up to afford a very expensive trip.

If that wasn’t worth thanking the gods for, then she didn’t know what was.

“All I’m asking for now… is someone to spend the rest of my life with. Someone who’s the other half of my soul…” She prayed under her breath, bowing her head even further as a sign of humility, before adding, “Someone who will love me wholeheartedly forever.”

Shivers raced up her spine as soon as she uttered her wish, with some unseen force beckoning her to look up. And when she gave in to the urge to do so, the sight of a blond waiting a few paces away from her— with his hand stretched out towards her— made her absolutely breathless.

The vision didn’t last more than a couple of seconds, but she was sure that she just saw Rengoku Kyōjurō in front of her.

“It can’t be. I’m going crazy,” The young woman whispered to herself; bowing down once more, before strolling off to the side to admire the little stone statues that dotted the vicinity.

However, the heavy feeling on her shoulders had returned along with a headache. So, she decided that a short stroll around the area would do her some good.

With one last look behind her— to see that (F/n) was still engrossed in whatever prayer she had— (Y/n) deigned to just send her a text to let her know that she was going for a walk before finally taking the first few steps to get her around the place.

She couldn’t even hear the buzz of the town around them. No horns, or car engines, or even the sound of people filled the gaps of silence between the short gusts of wind that rustled the leaves of the plants around her.

If she were to be honest, she would say that it was relaxing; enough for a nap, even.

But she couldn’t do that when she and (F/n) still had so many places to go for the rest of the day. And, figuring that she’d been gone for long enough, she circled back to the pagoda— where, lo and behold, her best friend was nowhere to be found.

“I told her to wait for me here, tsk,” She uttered under her breath, huffing a little as she tried to fight back the heaviness and the headache that were only getting worse. “(F/n), you dumbass.”

She must have circled the entire vicinity of the temple thrice already, but her best friend was still nowhere to be found. And, around the second time that she had gotten back to the pagoda, she had pulled her phone out to call her— only to curse under her breath when she saw that it was dead.

It wouldn’t have been a problem at all, since she had her backpack with her— but when she checked the contents of it, she didn’t find the power bank that she was sure that she had packed in there that morning.

So, she circled the area once more— getting more frustrated at the pseudo cat and mouse game that she assumed (F/n) was playing with her— until she decided to check outside the temple gates.

Only, she couldn’t quite believe her eyes when an entirely different scene greeted her.

Instead of the asphalt road that she had walked on earlier, there was only a dirt road; which had her chest tightening with panic. Because she couldn’t have been on one of those prank shows she always watched.

But that was the only answer that she was coming up with, as her eyes took in the sight of the busy road in front of her. People were even wearing much older clothes; as opposed to the jeans, button down, and ankle boots combo that she was wearing.

“No, I swear to everything holy… (F/n), if you signed me up for a prank…” She hissed under her breath, swallowing thickly as she frantically looked at all of the people who were going on about their day.

A few gazes were aimed at her, but no one dared to approach her. And it wasn’t like she could simply stroll up to someone and ask them what had happened to the road— because, as it was, she only knew the basics of basic Japanese.

She would sooner make a mistake and ask someone where a gong was, instead of where the road had gone.

It was also at that moment that she realized that she shouldn’t have goofed off while learning Japanese; instead of telling (F/n) that she sucks tiny dicks, she could have used that time to learn some more useful sentences.

Panic was steadily beginning to set in, causing tears to spring up in her eyes as she clutched her useless phone in one hand. She couldn’t even muster up the strength to move from where she stood— the need to cry getting stronger with every passing second.

(Y/n) swore that she would wring her best friend’s neck if all of that ended up as a really unfunny prank. But it seemed that it wasn’t a prank at all, as no one yelled ‘cut’ and not one camera person stepped out to capture the sight of her tears beginning to fall down her face.

Slowly, her panic began to really set in, as she gripped her phone even tighter in her hand— pushing herself to turn on her heel to march back into the temple and try to look for (F/n) in every shrub possible; only, the breath was knocked out of her when she ran smack dab into something.

Or rather, someone.

Red-tinted irises flickered down at the peculiar woman, lingering on her tear-stained face, before they took in the strange clothes that she was wearing.

The strange woman’s clothes weren’t what had the Flame Hashira’s curiosity piquing, however…

It was when her eyes widened with what seemed like fear and genuine shock, before she whispered, “Kyōjurō?”

All that, before promptly passing out— thankfully, in his arms. Otherwise, she would have suffered a painful bump to the head.

“Ani-ue? Do you know her?” Kyōjurō readjusted his hold on the woman in his arms, then looked down at his side to answer his brother with a smile.

“I don’t, Senjurō, but she knows me.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Take her home,” The Hashira’s answer sounded so simple, as if it didn’t have to do with taking a virtual stranger home— one that looked so weird, with a glossy and flat brick at her feet. Because really, his curiosity was really piqued; especially with how he felt his heart skip a beat when she mentioned his name.