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tokiro07 · 9 days ago

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Undead Unluck ch.235 thoughts

[That's the POWER of LOVE!!!]

(Topics: lore - the Gods, character analysis - the Gods/Union/Soul, thematic analysis - love)

Listen. I know that I used that joke last week, but that was one of the section titles, not the main title. So it's fine. Don't even worry about it

Who Created the Creator

This chapter opens with the answer to one of the longest-standing questions of the series: why did Sun and Luna create the world?

Based on how all of the UMAs have talked about it, we had previously concluded that it was all a matter of entertainment, that they existed in nothingness and needed enrichment. While there may still be some truth to this in the moment-to-moment decisions over the course of their game, the truth is far less arbitrary

Sun and Luna are not, in fact, the first beings to exist, they are simply the first to exist in this plane. They were banished here after losing some kind of conflict, a theomachy with beings presumably comparable to them, and then tasked with raising their own world from scratch as either punishment or a chance at redemption

Based on the dialogue, it would seem that the other Gods had created their own world or worlds, but Sun disagreed with their approach. Sun desires to be worshipped, a world where God is almighty and all of Creation looks to Him for mercy and salvation, but more importantly, he wants to prove that this approach is correct. This implicitly tells us that, from the other Gods' perspectives, Sun's methods were deemed to be wrong, and when push came to shove, he wasn't able to compete with their Creations

What role Luna played in the theomachy is still unclear, and I'm not sure if Tozuka plans to delve into it, but my guess is that she agreed with Sun, at least for a time. Her assumption about their exile is that it's meant to be a learning experience, one that will allow them to grow, demonstrating an openness to change that Sun simply lacks

At first, this conversation implied to me that Sun never actually had any interest in "the Greatest Life Ever," as Luna's line about "reaching a form of strength that neither of us know of" seems to fit with that idea much better than Sun's desire to be worshipped, but looking at it with that perspective, I think I have a better understanding of it now. I think that Sun wants to create a life that surpasses anything the other Gods ever did, to create something that can defeat them and make them suffer the same humiliation that he did

Luna, on the other hand, while she does want to be entertained, seems invested in figuring out what caused her and Sun's downfall. I think her creation of Soul was meant to design their mortals with the capacity to change just like the other Gods intended for her and Sun, giving a new meaning to making life in God's image. Luna understands the ideas behind what the other Gods created, the mechanism of change and the emotion of love, but she doesn't quite understand their purpose or their effect. This is why she gave people the capacity for each: to study those effects specifically

How perfect, then, that this final battle serves as an excellent case study for both

Memory Lane

To charge up The Heart with Fuuko's love, everyone in the Union declares their gratitude to her and how she's changed their lives over the last two Loops

Admittedly, I'm a little unclear on whether that first big blast was from The Heart or from the Xiang family, but given that Andy only comments on the glow and not the blast, I'm inclined to think it's the latter. It doesn't really matter either way, but I prefer the idea that Shen and co. were able to launch that big of a soul blast on their own, especially since everyone else was apparently landing big enough hits to tear up Sun's body, so I think it's more impactful for them to have gotten their own hit in

Regardless, this whole sequence is beautiful; not only is it a heartfelt retrospective of the whole series, the structure is a perfect mirror of the story

Shen

We start with Shen because he was the very first member of the Union that Fuuko met. When we first met Shen, he was a tease and a flirt, as if he was ignoring his feelings for Mui for fear of losing sight of his goal of getting stronger. He was so single-minded in that goal that he was willing to sacrifice his friends, if he even thought of them as friends in the first place. After losing his sister, he desired strength solely for revenge, and was willing to give anything to get it

Now, thanks to Fuuko's influence, strength itself is no longer Shen's goal, but merely a tool to protect what matters most: his family. His sister is alive, he can be honest about his feelings Mui, and he even has a fairly healthy father-son relationship with Feng. All of the love that was denied to him previously is now his primary motivator, a theme that we see in our next group as well

Rip and Latla

Rip and Latla are next as the first major antagonistic Negators while also having a clear narrative throughline with Shen. Though not explicitly motivated by revenge, they were similarly motivated by loss in such a way that they completely abandoned the rest of the world, without a care as to whole lived or died in pursuit of their own goals

In line with Latla's Untrust, their arc is defined by their inability to let anyone else carry the weight of their goal, sometimes not even each other. It's thanks to Fuuko and Andy that not only were they able to save Leila, but also to do so without compromising their own morals and finding the ability to rely on others. Despite being their most persistent rivals, Fuuko allowed them to join the Union, allowing them to rejoin the humanity that they had abandoned. This forgiveness in turn resonates with their former boss

Billy

Believing everyone else to be too weak to fight, Billy created Under specifically to shoulder the weight of the world alone. Instead of finding strength in numbers, Billy tried to concentrate everyone's abilities and roles into himself to become the single strongest Negator

Thanks to Fuuko, Billy learned that not only is the Union stronger than the sum of its parts, but each individual part is far stronger than he ever gave them credit for. Because the Billy of L101 was able to acknowledge the strength of others, Unfair gained the ability to function through respect rather than hatred, allowing Billy to use it as part of a team rather than necessitating him to villainize himself

This change between Loops then becomes the connecting thread for our remaining recollections

Gina and Sean

Gina is the first Negator that Fuuko officially recruited in L101, and both her and Sean are the ones who died so that she may live through L100. This leads to the two of them arguing about which of them grew more between the two Loops: Gina, who changed both times, or Sean, who never really got to see the previous world but ended up becoming an integral part of this one

This gives one more connection for their ongoing dynamic while also highlighting the things that make them both such great characters. Gina's obsession with Fuuko, Sean's need to be the center of attention, and how both of them have found purpose and fulfillment that they were never able to previously

Their bout of oneupmanship then inspires the rest of the Union to chime in to get a word in edgewise, all shouting for Fuuko's attention so that she would know how much they all love her. The woman who once believed herself to be unlovable, now surrounded by love on all sides

And that just makes what's happening all the more confusing for Luna

What is Love?

As I said, Luna knows what love is conceptually, she knows how important it is to humanity, but that makes the idea of sacrificing it incomprehensible to her

From her perspective, the Union is purposefully throwing away their precious friend, joyously betraying the very love that is meant to save them. The sadistic choice that The Heart was meant to represent has instead been embraced with open arms, and Luna just can't wrap her head around it

If only Luna had been paying attention to the series' themes and motifs, she might have reach an understanding of it by now

There wasn't a single person present acting in the interest of their own life

In the fight with Rip, the goal wasn't to heal Fuuko, it was to stop Rip from killing Chikara and any future Negators he would go after in the name of Under. Rip was a greater threat that needed to be stopped, even if it killed those present. Sun is the same way - no one is worried about making it out of this fight, they're only worried about making a world for everyone else they care about to live in

Death, loss, and grief are a natural part of life. It's normal to be saddened by a loss, but acceptance is a natural part of the process. Fuuko has already made up her mind to give all of herself for the world and her friends, so all that's left for anyone to do is see her off with a smile. This moment, the death of the Fuuko we know, is the Greatest Death Ever

But even after that death, it won't be the end. The Fuuko they knew, her soul, will continue to live on in all of them, and the Fuuko they don't know will still be around to make new memories with, as established last week. This is the other factor that Luna never anticipated: as a resource, love is Unlimited

Honestly, I won't even be surprised if Fuuko keeps her memories for this very reason - the memories that everyone charged The Heart with aren't being erased from history. They still happened, and the proof of each event persists in the lives that everyone now lives. Their love is inexhaustible, never-ending...

Undying

Even if Fuuko forgets, I can feel in my bones that something along those lines will help to bring her back by the end, even if it's the very last page of the series

Because Luna can't understand the true nature of love, she couldn't possibly see this coming. She couldn't fathom love making the Union strong enough to best Sun physically, so why should she be able to predict the effect that using The Heart will actually have?

Naturally, because Love as a concept exists independently of God's Rules, Soul can't understand it either

Lonesome Soul

Soul caps off the chapter with the claim that the Rule of Love means nothing to him, that what he's currently experiencing is completely lost on him. The source of the Union's power, the strength of their souls, is a concept that is absolutely foreign to Soul, despite the fact that he's been present for every Rule introduced during the game

This is why he couldn't understand how Julia connected her soul with the rest of the Union: she wasn't using a natural aspect of the Rule of Souls, she was using the Rule of Love. This is why he couldn't get Kururu's Unchaste to overcome Raita's feelings for Kaede: he couldn't understand that relationships aren't born from "chastity," they're born from love

This is why Soul hasn't entered Phase 3: the souls of the other Master Rules, his so-called friends, don't live on through him. He holds them in high regard, but he doesn't love them, and he doesn't believe that memory keeps someone alive. That's not a mechanic of the Rule of Souls, so it's something he simply can't do, as that would require the Rule as it stands to change, an acknowledgment that the Rule itself is imperfect

Changing the Rules is not the purview of the Rules themselves, nor is it even that of the Gods who create new Rules: it is the purview of humanity, who have the power to interpret and wield the Rules

Love is a Rule that humanity created to give purpose to their Souls. Love is what makes Death and loss meaningful. Love is what motivates one to Change. Love is the Luckiest thing a person can find. People have gone to War for Love. They base their visions of Justice on Love, cultivate Love over Time, communicate Love through Language. Love can be given to Beasts, and Love can even heal Sickness

All of the UMAs and Negators control their Rules through the soul, but only the Negators have gained the power to enhance their souls through love. They live by their own Rule, and through love, have found the greatest way to enjoy what life has to offer

Next week will be the end of the battle, and Soul's final chance to learn this lesson. Whether he does or doesn't will certainly be the fuel for my final analysis of his character, though that may come in one of the epilogue chapters depending on how Tozuka chooses to play this climax. Personally, though, I hope he learns to love the other Master Rules when he meets them in Subspace

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

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mannanoo · 1 year ago

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The Crow Father

No Warnings Apply General Audiences Dream SMP Tommyinnit & Phil Watson Word Count: 1,459 Completed

Tommy's brothers had always told him that monsters weren't real.

They also told him that there was a child eating crow monster in the forest which is why he shouldn't take it as a shortcut.

He's never been good at listening to what they tell him.

Or: Tommy finds a father in a forest after a sleepover with Tubbo and Ranboo.

Tommy had been wandering for hours. Or at least, he thought he had. He was hungry and thirsty. He’d run out of water a while ago and he’d rejected Tubbos attempts to give him food. It was dark in the forest and he’d wandering for so long, turning and moving around trees so much he wasn’t exactly sure where he’d started from.

He refused to call Techno though.

Regardless of whether he had his phone on him or not, he absolutely would NOT call his brother. He just knew he’d made fun of as soon as his brother found him and all the way back home. He knew Tubbo would be upset with how long he’d been gone, but he just wasn’t willing to let Techno or Wilbur make fun of him. He refused.

That being said, it was definitely getting darker, and the trees were looking… less than healthy. And it was getting colder, he thought at least. He’d been pulling his cardigan tighter around him as he’d been walking, as the trees started losing their leaves.

He paused. Then sighed. Maybe he could stand some teasing from his brothers if it meant he could get somewhere a bit warmer. He dug his hand into his pocket and grabbed his phone, squinting at the bright screen.

3%. What the actual fuck?

He was sure he put it on charge last night. He made sure to ask Ranboo whether it was charging before he went to sleep.

Wait...

Fucking Ranboo. Damn memory bitch.

Of course his phone wasn't charged. Shit.

He tried to beat it. Sped to his messages and flicked through them, trying to find either of his brothers.

Why did he let Tubbo change his contact names?!

The screen went black just as he found Techno's number. He stared at his reflection in the screen.

He was absolutely fucked.

He sighed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and turning to kick the tree beside him.

"Fucking fuck!" He hit his head forward, pressing it against the bark as a cold wind blew right past him and made him shiver, pulling his cardigan tighter around him.

He breathed out slowly before turning around and leaning up against the tree. As he looked up, he saw the murder of crows, all staring down at him from the bare branches above him.

"The fuck are you all looking at?" He whispered, brows furrowed in annoyance. They just continued staring at him, all their eyes laser focused on him. Tommy huffed out another breath as he glared at the nearest crow. It tilted it's head to the side as it stared back at Tommy.

"He's going to keep watching you if you keep watching him." Tommy startled at the new voice and turned around sharply.

There stood a figure, seeming like he was part of the fog Tommy hadn't noticed rolling in.

He was cloaked in darkness and Tommy wasn't quite sure where his coat? Cape? Ended and where the darkness of the forest began. His belt and cape details glittered every time he moved slightly and breathed. His cape was fogged with a purple haze and seemed to emanate the cold that was surrounded them. Tommy looked up at his face and found it hidden behind the shadows his wide brimmed hat made. His eyes were glowing though. They shined through the shadows and somehow? That wasn't concerning to Tommy. The crows seemed to halo this man, most of them turning to face him more fully while they still stared at Tommy.

"Who the fuck are you?" The question left his lips before he could even begin to stop himself. The man looked at him and smiled, his sharpened teeth shining through the shadows the same way his eyes did.

"You can call me Phil. You seem a little lost." The stranger, Phil, smiled at him, raising a hand to tip his hat upwards a bit and the shadows receded slightly so Tommy could see his face in more detail. His nose was elongated and slightly hooked and his eyes had slits for pupils.

If Tommy didn't know any better, he'd think this guy was some sort of cryptid.

But he did know better. His brothers had drilled into him that monsters weren't real each and every time Tommy had come to them with nightmares about the creatures in the forest, in his closet or under his bed. He knew damn well that monsters and creatures and cryptids were not real. It was just fact. His brothers had said so.

But seeing this man, with his shadowed clothing and crow like appearance in the middle of a forest with dead trees that Tommy was sure weren't dead when he saw them from Tubbo's bedroom window that morning, he began to think that maybe his brothers didn't know exactly everything.

"I'm not lost. I'm just... Taking the scenic route." Tommy said. Regardless of whether this guy was a monster or not, he wasn't just gonna accept help from the weird stranger in the forest. He wasn't that stupid, no matter what Technoblade said.

"Ah, of course. Well, would you like some company on your scenic route? I've often found I get places quicker with a companion." Phil said, the crow on his shoulder cawing softly in his ear. He chuckled quietly, looking at Tommy and waving his hand at the crow. "She can wait a few minutes more, I'm sure. So, what do you say?"

Tommy didn't speak for a moment. His focus was drawn straight to Phil's hand. It had long, pointed fingers that looked more like claws than a human hand. And it seemed to have... Something red on the tips of his fingers. He wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know what it was.

Phil noticed his gaze and chuckled again, bringing the edge of his cloak up to wipe at his fingers. "Nothing to worry about mate. Ian just had a small injury from a thorn." Tommy looked at the man, who was still smiling gently.

"Ian?"

"The crow." Phil shrugged slightly, jostling the crow how in turn squawked and nipped at his slightly pointed ear. He laughed, louder than he had earlier, before reaching up the brush back some of the crows ruffled feathers. "So, about that walk?"

"Are you the Crow Father?" Again, the question left Tommy before he could think about it, but he couldn't find it in himself to take it back. It was a childish question, but he wanted to know. He needed to know whether his brothers were wrong about creatures and monsters and cryptids. Phil paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly looking confused. "You know? The guy in the forest who can control crows? Wilbur and Techno used to tell me stories about how he'd kidnap kids and feed them to his crows but then they told me it was all fake and that he wasn't real."

Phil smiled. "Do you think he's real?"

"Well, apart from the fact you haven't actually kidnapped me yet, you've got everything else going for you." His mouth was running a mile a minute, not letting his brain catch up for even a moment.

"Well, I can safely say I've never kidnapped a child, nor fed or eaten one. And neither have these crows. But, I suppose I was probably the inspiration. It's not exactly easy to make friends with people in town when they think you're a monster now, is it?" His soft laughter brought a smile to Tommy's face. Somehow, he knew Phil wasn't lying.

"So... How do I exactly get out of here?" Phil smiled, and swept his arm upwards and pointed to just to the side of him.

"Right this way. It's a wonder you even made it this far in. Most people end up on the other side of the forest before ever seeing this area."

"Yeah, well I'm just built different, ain't I?" Phil smiled.

"Of course." Tommy moved towards where Phil was pointing but paused, noticing the man hadn't moved beyond pointing Tommy in the right direction. "Are you not coming?"

"Unfortunately not. I have someone to get back to and I'm already late. If you just go in a straight line, you'll get home though. You have my word." Tommy squinted at him with furrowed brows before nodding once.

"I'm gonna tell my brothers you're not a child eating weirdo." Was the last thing Tommy said before he dashed off in the direction Phil had directed him. In his absence, Phil blinked before letting out a loud, sharp laugh.

"I think we'll see him again Chat." Phil smiled, before sweeping away behind him, delving deeper into the fog. "Yeah, we'll see him again."

#ao3 to tumblr #ao3 writer #writing #my fic #dream smp #sbi family dynamic

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nevertheless-moving · 11 months ago

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solidly pleased with glowing and flying!

Also i really couldn't picture how shallan's story wouldn't end tragically, so extreme relief.

didn't cry as much as mistborn but we're still at the start of the series..the scene where kaladin's deciding to turn back in a hopeless attempt to save an army that's not really his...i don't know something about how sanderson writes noble sacrifice just gets to me, i feel it like physical pain.

gasped at the trade for the sword. couple of tears at the thought of saving all the bridgemen. just. i knew that turning back was right, but i was on a knife's edge about how well it would all turn out. just, The Parallels -the desperate charge for a noble banner - a priceless blade after the dust settles...im laying awake at night thinking about it okay?

This author sure likes killing gods, huh

the entire scene of dismissively kicking the shit out of Elhokar just to really, really prove that if he wanted to kill him, he would have, toptier, no notes. mic drop exit with 'btw i'm fucking courting your mom.' unparalleled. no one is doing it like him.

I'm also a sucker for superhero esque identity reveals, so gradual reveal of powers to people so you can get all the reactions and situations is IDEAL, for me personally. first literally unconciously to teft, then panicking a bit to teft and lopen, then aweing to the parshendi, then saving bridge 4, then to delirious dalinar...

(I desperately wanted some group training scenes in the chasms where Kaladin got to fail at running on walls and look stupid but also impressive in front of his men. am cautiously optimistic for such things in book two.)

i know it's not really in the same tone as the first book but i very much would enjoy extended group radiant training hijinks, and they did set things up at the end there...

kaladin shouting while tumbling different directions , his men desperately covering up for odd thumping inside barracks, scrambling to keep him from shooting into the sun. Falling out of the sky and landing in front of a bunch of officers, pretending he was just on a nearby building. sticking bridge 4 crew to the walls, partially as a joke, then practicing training formations with gravity at all angles, (which will come in handy when Szeth arrives). more honor spren arriving. team gaslighting anyone who sees him (them?) glow. 'all dark eyes do this' 'you must have hit your head harder than we thought' 'its called sweat you should try it sometime.'

other future book hopes:

adolin mild jealousy and suspicion of kaladin. ok more than mild jealousy. why is he better at honor? why is he better at fighting? why does father trust him more? Why - did he just fucking glow. possibly losing his shit as he suspects the radiant powers but is subject to above gaslighting.

reveal of radiant powers to kholins then to everyone in KICKASS szeth fight

RADIANT ON RADIANT FIGHT

Amaram losing his cool when he sees kaladin (possibly giving himself away by saying he's lying about winning the shard blade, except kaladin still hadn't mentioned it to anyone.) some sort of direct Amaram conflict.

jasnah and Shallan arriving shattered plains! Shallan pulling out a fucking shard blade?? Implying to other people that they can just get more blades when they feel like in some crazy political manever

some romance! (ideally between jasnah and shallan but i doubt it. regardless i do trust sanderson's heterosexual romance writing)

dalinar casually letting slip that the radiants could heal people and kaladin needs to go sit in a corner for a little bit while he weeps with joy and guilt ALTERNATELY kalinar discovering accidentally he can heal others with stormlight. And then corner weeping time for joy and guilt.

i know it's going to make the payoff all the better, I trust Sanderson enough for that but I'm almost 30 chapters into way of kings and MAN is he putting the protagonists through the ringer. Dalinars in universe credibility and likeability as a character seem inversely linked and I know I know that's the point but this old man keeps getting mad roasted for senile ideas like 'what if there's more to life than fighting over crab gems' and it keeps getting worse. I feel like charlie brown with the football every time kaladin tries to save someone. When do they get to glow and fly. My boys deserve to glow and fly.

#the way of kings #stormlight archive #cosmere #nevertheless cosmere

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redrobin-detective · 3 years ago

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Ben 10 lore that exists in my heart regardless of canon

- Ben’s personality in his mid-late teens is a mix of his Alien Force and Omniverse self. On the surface, he’s very cheerful and kind even if he is a bit of arrogant showoff. He makes jokes and plays around and acts as if he isn’t bothered by the things in his life. Those who know him best understand a good portion of his outward confidence and cockiness is just a facade to cover up his insecurities and to project the ideal, effortless hero. While sometimes seen as immature, most beings know Ben 10 means business as he takes his unofficial job and people’s safety very seriously. He’s clever, adaptable, charismatic and empathetic which makes him a formidable opponent and a loyal friend. Doesn’t open up easily but if you get to him, he become so dearly attached.

- Drinks smoothies so much for several reasons. Comfort food go brrr, reminds him of the good easy times with him Gwen and Kev. It’s also a light but generally nutritous food to give him energy for heroing. Anything too heavy and he’ll be puking (both from physical and emotional stress). Though he jokes about his mom’s health foods, his are a crazy concoction of add in proteins and vitamins/minerals bc he knows he’ll out and out collapse without it. (Still has on occasion bc boy still doesn’t eat right/enough)

- While Fame is exciting for him at first he soon begins to detest it. Not the fans, no, he can’t bring himself to hate the people who look up to him. But he hates the constant attention, that he can’t walk outside without being mobbed. the only place he feels safe is his hometown where most people are so used to him and his weirdness that they don’t react much anymore. Takes to wearing a cape and face shield when going out anywhere so he can actually get things done without being recognized and mobbed.

- Part of the reason Bellwood isn’t concerned with Ben is partially because ben’s been weird and alien for as long as they can remember but also many don’t realize how famous/powerful he is. Yeah that’s just Ben Tennyson over there, sometimes he turns into funny creatures- wait what do you MEAN he’s the savior of the universe?? He cried over a spilled smoothie the other day.

- Does mostly online schooling by the time he’s 15. At first he tries to do half day things to maintain something of a normal life but it quickly becomes overwhelming and dangerous him/the school. Finishes his GED early but the Plumbers and Azmuth make him take additional college level and alien courses to prepare him for his future role. Ben gripes but really does love learning all these things, especially on his terms (ADHD and stress + the public school system do not always go hand in hand). He’s a quick learner when he deems the information important and is made accessible to his learning needs.

- Ben definitely has ADHD speaking of which, it was nearly uncontrollable as a child bc his free-spirited parents didn’t believe in medicating. Ben convinced them he needed it and after some trial and error, found meds that worked. As he became more involved in heroics/growing up he had to change his medicine regimen (resulting in him being a bit more off the rails in OV) and needed antidepressants and therapy to manage it better. As an adult he has a whole litany of coping mechanisms (good and bad yes) and regularly checks in with his therapist and doctors to keep things under control.

- Has a complicated relationship with his necrofriggian children. Considers himself their mother and worries after them. They too feel a connection to their parent despite this being unusual for their species. A few visit (some more than others) while they grow while others maintain distance. Ben never breathes a word of them to the media for fear of them being targeted. Still he keeps an eye on them and ensures all 14 mature to adulthood (another rarity for the species). Checks in every now and again with the ones who don’t want to see him and those that do. Two join the Plumbers and Ben is both proud and worried. His youngest becomes partners with Rook Ben.

- Just in general loves kids, they’re his favorite fans and while he’ll grumble at pushy adult fans he always smiles and kneels down for the little ones. Not so secretly wanted to have children of his own but knew it was a risk overall and used a lot of that energy with mentoring and teaching. Eventually had Kenny later in life (late 30s-40s) and was over the moon, becoming such a loving and doing parent or as much as he could be with his hectic schedule.

- Omnitrix can’t come off, never has at any point since it first latched onto Ben’s arm. Azmuth tried and failed to get the device off, doesn’t let Ben know for many years as he feared the consequences. The watch loves and protects Ben even beyond it’s programming making him much more durable to damage and releasing energy charges when he’s threatened. Not even removing Ben’s arm would separate them. They’re stuck for life.

- Ben does have Anodite heritage but the Omnitrix actively suppresses it and uses the built up energy to power the transformations which is why ben is mostly unaffected by what should cause a massive energy drain on him. Theoretically if Ben learned to harness and safely use his Mana at an early age like Gwen he would have been fine but letting it build up without safe outlet meant activation would have killed him. Omnitrix Ben, however, went his whole life not knowing of his latent abilities and how the watch saved his life.

- Ben’s eyes get more green and glowy as time passes from the Omnitrix. At first they think its a trick of the light but by the time he’s an adult his eyes are pretty much glow in the dark. His veins light up too after long stretches of using the Omnitrix. Its vaguely unsettling to people who aren’t used to Ben.

- Max and the Earth Plumbers work so, so hard to keep teen Ben on Earth when half the universe is blowing up their comm lines asking for The Ben 10 to help with whatever problem of the day. Ben himself doesn’t quite understand when he’s younger the prestige and expectations on his shoulders. Max throws up a million and one roadblocks so Ben can live as normal a life as possible while he still can. Still, while doing that he Still overloads Ben with expectations and responsibilities on earth and beyond. He becomes a soldier again with Ben as their greatest weapon. He never forgave himself of losing sight of his grandson underneath the hero esp after Ben’s breakdown.

- Rook partnership with Ben ends not long after Omniverse with his promotion to Magister. Ben tries to play it cool but the thought of another loved one/teammate leaving his tears him apart. Max revealing that Ben most likely wouldn’t get a new Plumber assigned partner since he’s almost an adult and won’t need it and Rook accidentally missing their last smoothie run due to a scheduling mishap causes Ben to snap and have the nervous breakdown that had been building for almost a decade. He completely loses it for a little while and needs to take an extended leave of absence from school and heroics that lasts about a year. Spends time recovering both on Earth and Galvan Prime, does some diplomatic training, learns about aliens, actually confronts the stress and loneliness of his life. He comes out the other side stronger but still fragile and exhausted.

- Ben’s above mentioned breakdown brings him closer to all his friends who didn’t quite realize the extent of Ben’s burden. Rook had been under the impression Ben didn’t like him all that much so the knowledge that his departure was the final straw for friend/hero’s collapse was shocking. Ben and Azmuth also become closer, the Galvan becoming fiercely protective of the boy seeing as his Earth family didn’t do well to keep him safe. It takes years for him to get over his anger at Max for putting so much on his grandchild. Ben makes more friends, in and out of the hero business, finally gets a therapist and gets some of his burdens eased a bit. It’s not a sure fire fix and Ben has several smaller breakdowns the rest of his life but its something.

- Azmuth was straight up suicidal before he met Ben for the first time. Ben gave him back hope for the universe and his ability to create items for peace not weapons. The boy infuriates him, frightens him, frustrates him but Azmuth cannot deny in his heart of hearts that he loves Ben dearly. He’s very upset at Ben’s breakdown and doesn’t know how to handle the worst of the initail outbursts. Azmuth talks Ben down from a suicide attempt. He reaches out to Ben that he Too felt overwhelmed by pressure, thought himself only good for war. Ben’s arrival in his life saved him and now he will do the same for Ben. It’s the first positive step forward in Ben’s recovery.

- For no other reason than I like it, Azmuth primarily refers to Ben as Benjamin (mostly to annoy the kid but he likes the way it sounds too) and Ben in softer, more serious moments.

- Professor Paradox continues to flit in and out of Ben’s life. He says its because Ben is the most equipped to handle universal peril (true) but he’s also just very fond of the boy. Ben, existing in so many forms and having such importance also exists a beat outside of normal reality which Paradox identifies with. Ben is naturally attuned to time related problems because of this (instantly IDing Spanner as from the future before being told later deducing him to be his unborn son). Plus Ben named him, way back when. He’s just drawn to Ben.

- Adult Ben, while being seen as an impressively skilled fighter and champion, really has his strength as a universal diplomat of sorts. Based out of Earth, he helps mediate and defuse conflicts, advocate against tyranny and overall preserve peace and balance. He’s not perfect, he makes mistakes and sometimes is forced to become violent (and yes kill) but overall is regarded as a peacekeeper, something younger ben simply couldn’t understand.

- Gwen gets her degree and primarily does work with advocacy and teaching about magic/alien culture. While she and Ben are still close, there’s a bit of a frustrated divide in that she isn’t helping him share the burden of the universe. Gwen never wanted to be a hero and has enough worth to not shackle herself to a job that’ll burn her out. Ben loves heroing but gives too much of himself away trying to fix everything. They get into screaming arguments that it wouldn’t be so bad out there if she just helped him but she refuses to budge and says he shouldn’t make himself do so much. They always make up and thy still are each other’s closest relationships.

- Ben marries Kai in a political move, Kai is Asexual and Ben Aromantic. They didn’t love each other but they got on well enough and Ben was really feeling the stress of carrying the hero burden so Kai also being involved made him feel like he wasn’t alone. Both were also so tired of the universe constantly asking about their love life and said ‘fuck it we’re married leave us alone’. Gwen was always mad about it feeling Ben deserved better but the two of them were happy with it. They had separate rooms, mostly separate lives but they became strong friends and supports with their strictly platonic marriage. They had Ken via Invitro in an incubator and were loving if extremely busy parents.

- Also from the moment he appeared, Ben knew that Spanner was his future son, Kenny. He played ignorant and then was kind of deliberately teasing him in future encounters. He knew the rules of time and didn’t want to disrupt things further even if he was angry and worried as heck about why Ken felt the need to time travel. When future Ben catches up in the timeline, Kenny gets SUCH a lecture.

- Ben isn’t quite immortal but he’s also not entirely human anymore either. The Omnitrix not only keeps him safe from most harm but it lightens the effect of aging. Ben 10 is active many, many years when most humans would have been forced to retire. He’s not sure how long the watch will keep him alive and it terrifies him. Gwen too is functionally immortal however she ages like a normal human, then when her natural death came, shed her skin and became a fulltime Anodite. So in the end, it was her and Ben together wondering which of them will die first. Gwen has trouble retaining her humanity as pure energy and swears she’ll let herself fizzle out when Ben goes. When that’ll be however...

#Ben 10 #this took sooo long whoops #i wanna write about ben's breakdown so mad you have no idea

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helnjk · 4 years ago

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Crazier - F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

This was written for @vivianweasley ‘s 400 writing challenge! I used the song Crazier (by Taylor Swift) from the Hannah Montana movie hihi. Congrats on the milestone lovely ❤️ I hope you enjoy 🧚🏼‍♀️

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: just fluff! and wedding vibes 💗

A/N: ok but this song is ADORABLE ! it makes me so giddy when I listen to it (& i did, A LOT, especially in the process of writing this)

Flashbacks are italicized

---

Feels like I'm falling and I'm lost in your eyes

There was something special about a war time wedding.

The atmosphere surrounding the Burrow seemed to glow in the morning light. The gentle breeze rustled the surrounding fields and the sun was just peaking across the horizon. Champagne colored rays burst from between the clouds littered in the sky, providing warmth for anyone who found themselves outside. Despite the early hour, the residents (and guests) of the Weasley household were already up, busying themselves with tasks that Molly had assigned them.

You found yourself still wrapped in your fluffy dressing gown, nursing a warm cup of tea in your hands as you directed Fred and George. You three were in charge of making sure the flowers, arches, and chairs were all ready for the upcoming ceremony. A smile couldn’t help but inch its way onto your face as you watched Fred jokingly shove George and cause him to lose his footing for a moment.

The soft laugh that escaped your lips caught his attention and your eyes locked. Brown eyes glimmered with mischief and adoration met yours and you couldn’t help the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach.

“Oi! Be nice to your brother, Fred!” You called out as George once again lost his balance, “We don’t want him losing any other body part!”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N.” He retorted, pretending to look like he wasn’t about to send a jelly-legs jinx his brother’s way, “He’s a big boy, he can handle it!”

You made your way towards the boys who couldn’t stop roughhousing with each other now, “Well regardless, we’ve got to get the flowers and arches up and perfect before your mother comes and has a right fit!”

Slightly amused at how much you reminded them of their mother in that moment, the twins stopped horsing around and actually got their wands out to be as efficient as possible. You were able to get back to peacefully sipping on your tea and telling them where they should put certain flowers and which arch belonged where.

The sun was fully risen when the three of you finished, standing side by side admiring your handiwork.

“Great job team!” George announces, patting both you and Fred on the shoulder before turning on his heel, “I’m gonna go check and see if mom’s made some food! I’m starving!”

Before you could follow him, Fred’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you from behind. Your back connected with his chest in a huff, and he placed his head on your shoulder, “Yes, Freddie?” You giggled.

“Nothing love,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Just love you, is all.”

Your heart fluttered at the simple words and you practically melted in his arms, “Where’d that come from?”

“The whole atmosphere of today, of the wedding, I dunno” He hummed, “It just made me think of seeing you walk down the aisle in a white dress in the future.”

Turning around in his grasp and wrapping your arms around his neck, your eyes met and it was the most genuine and sincere you had ever seen Fred look. It made your heart stutter and butterflies fill your stomach.

“You’re such a sap, Fred Weasley,” There was no malice in your voice, just adoration for the wonderful man in front of you.

“Only for you darling.”

Bill and Fleur’s wedding was nothing short of magical.

The moment the blushing bride walked down the aisle, the crowd seemed to freeze in awe of her beauty. But nothing could compare to how she glowed the moment she reached the arms of her loving husband.

As the newlyweds shared a loving kiss, your eyes locked with Fred’s and you were struck with the image of him in his best dress robes, pulling you in for a sweet kiss just like the one happening in front of you. When the redhead sent you a cheeky wink from across the room, you had no doubt in your mind that you wanted to marry him one day.

You couldn’t help but reminisce on the years past and how your relationship with the cheeky mischief maker developed.

I watched from a distance as you made life your own

Laughs rang through the crowded hallway as the Weasley twins rushed to get away from Filch. You rolled your eyes at their antics, but a small smirk graced your lips. Being yearmates and housemates with the rambunctious pair for four years now had allowed you to grow used to their mischievous pranks and their witty ideas.

“Oi, watch it Weasley!” You teased, turning to face the boys who nearly knocked you over in their rush to get away from the cranky caretaker.

“Sorry, Y/L/N!” One of them yelled over his shoulder, before the pair of them rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

Despite being in the same year and house as the twins, that was usually the most interaction you would have with them. Nothing against them, but you had your own group of friends and they had theirs. As much as you admired their mischief and wit, that wasn’t really your thing. You preferred to keep to yourself or your little group of friends, not fading into the shadows but not exactly stepping into the spotlight either.

When you were accidentally on the receiving end of their pranks meant for Snape, though, the twins forced themselves into your life.

You were sat on one of the beds in the hospital wing, waiting while Madam Pomfrey puttered around looking for some bruise cream and muttering under her breath about how dangerous the twins could be. You hid your smile behind your hand, it honestly wasn’t all that bad, you just had a bruise on your cheek and one on your shoulder. They were both sore and aching, but you knew it could be fixed in no time.

Before the mediwitch could apply any salve to your exposed shoulder, the twins burst into the hospital wing.

“Y/N!” One of them, you thought maybe George, yelled.

“Oh Merlin, we’re so sorry!” The other twin said as they reached you.

Madam Pomfrey began to protest the twins’ presence, but you were quick to reply, “It’s fine you guys. Madam Pomfrey’s just about to fix me up and I’ll be good as new!”

The rest of the week, the twins didn’t leave you alone. Constantly opening doors and pulling out chairs for you, the pair of them weaseled their way into your daily routine. You could feel them wriggling their way into your heart too, and you knew that there was no going back now.

Every sky was your own kind of blue

And I wanted to know how that would feel

“Y/N?” You turned around to the source of the voice only to be face to face with none other than Fred Weasley.

“Fred,” You breathed, hitching the books in your arms a little higher and tighter, “What’s up? Do you need something?”

The castle was decorated beautifully for the Christmas hols, and more importantly to impress the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang guests you were hosting that year, but you were in a bit of a rush and you couldn’t really stop and chat. The professors had made sure to assign as much schoolwork as possible before the break began, which meant you were scrambling to finish everything on time.

You noticed Fred rock back on his heels and shove his hands in the pockets of his robes, “Are you alright?” You asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m brilliant really,” He muttered, his eyes shifting around and his ears tinging pink ever so slightly.

“O-kay,” You said, “Sorry, Fred but I’m rushing to get some coursework finished. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.” He mumbled as you turned on your heel and rushed away. His shoulders slumped slightly, “Bloody idiot, couldn’t get a word out of your mouth…”

Unknown to you, Fred walked all the way back to the common room muttering under his breath. The Yule Ball was coming up and the only person he wanted to take was you, he just needed to buck up enough courage to actually ask you. Every time he tried, though, he clammed up and nothing could come out of his mouth.

When you climbed through the portrait hole a while later, he was still sat on one of the couches, staring at the fireplace and brainstorming ideas of how he could gather up some of his Gryffindor courage and ask you a simple question. He actually made it a point to write down a few of them on some parchment, but most of them were crossed out.

Sonorus charm during breakfast

Sending her a letter (? possible)

Ask Hermione to ask her for me

He hadn’t noticed that you came in, so when you plopped down on the couch beside him, he almost jumped out of his seat. He looked right suspicious to you, trying to shove the piece of parchment he was holding back into the pocket of his robes. Knowing the kind of mischief he could cause you, you did what any other sane person would do.

“Accio parchment.” You said, pointing your wand at his robes. The paper flew out and into your open palm.

“No, Y/N-” He protested, but you stood up quickly and got out of his grabbing reach.

“What’s this Fred? Haven’t gotten any good ideas to ask someone to the Yule Ball?” You teased after skimming over his messy notes.

At that moment he thanked Merlin and Morgana that he hadn’t actually written down your name. Still, his ears and neck were pink and he could feel his face grow hot as you read over the dumb ideas he wrote down.

“That’s none of your business, don’t you think?” He mumbled, taking the parchment out of your hands and sticking it back safely in his pocket.

“Oh alright,” You smiled, “Just teasing!”

He nodded quickly then proceeded to make his way to the staircase, wanting to just curl up in bed and scream into his pillow. Something stopped him, though. He paused right at the doorway and turned to face you slowly.

“Y/N?” He said.

“Yeah, Fred?” You asked, busy trying to smooth down the disheveled uniform and hair that came from running away from him so quickly a few minutes before. You weren’t paying as much attention to the redhead as you should’ve, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

His question rang through the empty common room and made you pause what you were doing.

“Sorry, what?” You asked, turning to look at him.

“Erm, I asked if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me,” He mumbled, rocking back on his heels.

A slow smile spread across your face, “Of course! I’d love to.”

“Great!” He nearly yelled, “Great, yeah. I can’t wait!”

You stood at the top of the staircase, your gown swishing gently as you made your way to where the rest of the students were waiting. Fred’s hair could easily be spotted above the crowd, so you weaved your way through to him.

When his eyes found yours the world seemed to stop. Blood rushed to his ears and his breath came out in short puffs. His vision seemed to tunnel and the only thing he could see was you. You looked absolutely stunning.

“Wow,” He breathed once you reached him, “I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven. You look phenomenal, Y/N.”

Your heart stuttered at the compliment, “Thanks, Fred. You look great too.”

Fred was nothing short of the perfect date. He held your waist as the two of you entered the Great Hall, held your seat out for you as you reached your table, and took your hand to lead you to the dance floor when it was time for the waltz. The both of you weren’t great dancers, but you stumbled and giggled through the whole thing with smiles on your faces.

When the two of you grew tired of dancing, he gently whispered in your ear, “D’you wanna get out of here?”

“Sure,” You smiled.

In a moment of bravery, you took his hand in yours as the two of you walked leisurely through the snow filled grounds. Heart still beating in your chest, you stole a glance in his direction. To your surprise, he wore a goofy smile on his face and his ears were slightly tinged pink. Instead of letting go, he squeezed your hand and led you to an empty bench.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, taking in the gorgeous decorations made for the ball, but after a while you asked “Knut for your thoughts?”

Fred turned to face you slightly and let out a small puff of breath, “I’ve actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

Your brows furrowed in concern, “What’s up?”

“I fancy the hell out of you, Y/N.” He breathed nervously, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear and staring at the ground.

“Oh Fred, I really fancy you too.” You grinned giddily, a small laugh leaving your lips.

His eyes widened at your statement and his grin seemed to match yours, “What’s so funny then?”

“Nothing,” You shrugged, snaking your arms around his neck, “I’ve just fancied you for so long, I just didn’t think you’d actually feel the same for me.”

Instead of replying, Fred swooped down and pressed a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped slightly, not expecting his lips to be on yours, but soon you melted into his touch. His arms wrapped around your waist before the two of you broke apart.

“That answer your question?” He breathed, going back in to peck your lips again and again until you were giggling and playfully slapping him on the chest.

“You’re really something else, Weasley.”

You lift my feet off the ground

You spin me around

You make me crazier crazier

“D’you wanna get out of here?” A familiar voice asked in your ear as strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“Now where have I heard that before?” You teased, placing a soft peck on Fred’s lips.

The wedding reception was in full swing now, a crowd of redheads filling the tent. You were standing to the side, taking in just how much happiness this event sparked in your life and in so many others’. It was as if the world stopped to celebrate the love that Bill and Fleur clearly felt for each other.

Without answering you, Fred merely took your hand in his and led you out into the dusk. The breeze cooling down your slightly warm skin.

“Care for a dance?” He grinned at you, holding out his hand when you two had reached a relatively empty area in the surrounding field.

“I thought you’d never ask,” You joked, taking his hand and putting your other one on his shoulder.

Gently, the two of you swayed together as the sun finally set beyond the horizon and as the first few stars appeared above you. No music was playing, nor was it needed, as you were wrapped around the love of your life.

He sighed contentedly, “When all this is over and we’ve won the war, I’m going to marry you.”

“Good,” You said confidently, “Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Fred Weasley.”

#vivianweasley400wc #Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagines #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley fics #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley x y/n

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hongism · 4 years ago

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the little things - j.yunho

↣ pairing: yunho x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.3k ↣ summary: it’s been quite some time since these intrusive thoughts came around, but whenever they do, there’s always one person in particular who comes to brush them away. ↣ warnings: mentions of intrusive thoughts, seasonal depression, and general Sad Feelings

The soft pitter-patter of raindrops drums against the window, filling it with strewn and random patterns of the water that falls from the sky, and you watch the movements with a blank mind. It’s a cold and resigned feeling that blossoms in your gut as you sit by the windowsill, elbow propped up on the wood and chin resting atop your clenched fist. You could sit here for hours just examining each little dragging drop on the glass, maybe even seeing which drop can reach the bottom of the window fastest, but instead, you pull back with a quiet sigh falling from your lips.

Winter.

You aren’t sure how to explain it but the season is simultaneously your favorite and least favorite wrapped into one lovely little bundle. The air outside isn’t quite cold enough to let snow fall and stick to the ground quite yet — hence the rain — but the season brings you as much joy as it does pain and emptiness. You enjoy the snow and seeing what kinds of animals hustle and bustle in their winter coats outside your cottage, and you love seeing the way the sun bounces off the icy lakes and rivers nearby or how the evergreen trees catch hold of little snowflakes. But those are just temporary things that don’t last in the long run because you cannot shake the dismal feeling that begins to enter your gut around autumn.

Living alone in your little cottage has its perks, of course, although they always seem few and far between when it comes time for this seasonal plague to grip your mind. Work is always most busy in the winter as well, which only adds to your despondent mood when you cannot spend more than an hour in the presence of your lovers. So really, it’s one bad thing after another, a myriad of bad to worse that leaves you in tears at the end of the day more often than not.

You should probably be working now, at least filling next week’s orders or double-checking the ones you finished bottling earlier today. There is hardly any energy in you right now though, so the best you can do is blink a few times and stare out the window again.

It’s in times like these when you truly consider Seonghwa’s never-ending offer. The season wouldn’t be nearly so difficult if you lived with the rest of them in the coven’s home. Yet it is near impossible for you to entertain the thought while in this state. Your mind prefers to be less than kind and give you endless scenarios that have you biting back tears and crying yourself to sleep.

Maybe they don’t really want you. They have each other. Why would they need you on top of that? Seonghwa just pities you because you act so pathetic. You would just be a burden if you lived with them. You aren’t a witch like they are, you don’t have any magical abilities in you, what could you provide? They can do all the things you do in half the time surely. You are, quite literally, useless in their eyes.

Sometimes the thoughts become more cruel and harsh than that, all following the same theme of not being needed or wanted. And as much as you want to rely on them for comfort and support, you lose the internal battles more often so you resign yourself to sitting in a bed of your own tears and heartbreak. Fall asleep eventually, wake up, work until you cannot stand anymore, then repeat the process.

This week alone has seemed to pack more of a punch than any of the previous years of this seasonal plague, but that could be because you haven’t been through a winter alone like this since before your relationship with the coven started. Last year, Wooyoung and Jongho took to living in your cottage throughout the whole season just to keep you company. Perhaps the reason they are not here this year is because you’ve become too much, too burdensome, too emotionally draining to be around. Logic tells you that is not the case. That melancholy black dog residing in your mind does not.

Someone will surely be by to visit soon given how quiet you’ve been these last few days. You’re shocked that no one has come by sooner, but the second you begin to think about it, the black dog returns to barking loudly where he sits in your thoughts. The noise in your head is so loud and overwhelming that you actually have to push away from the window, shaking your head fervently and jerking out of your chair in a desperate attempt to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

The voice intrudes on your ugly thoughts, and it fills you with panic before anything else. You whip around in your little window seat, eyes immediately looking towards the door to your bedroom which is now cracked open. You can’t see anyone behind the door or in the room, and merely hearing your name did not give you enough clues as to who could possibly be in your home at this time.

“Baby, are you in here?” The noise resounds again, and this time you recognize it better.

Yunho. Why is Yunho here? A shadowy figure pushes past the doorframe, and your lover slips through the opening with his shoulder. You try to hide your signs of panic, furiously blinking away the tears that begin to spring to your eyes. Why is he here? Did someone send him? Maybe they sent him to tell you that the relationship is over. He is best at handling emotionally charged conversations since he’s a fae and can influence thoughts and emotions. Maybe Hongjoong and Seonghwa decided that he would be best for delivering the news or—

“Hi, love, I didn’t know if you were home because you didn’t answer the door.” Yunho pushes a soft smile onto his lips, and as he fully steps into view, you catch sight of the two mugs in his hands. You can’t see the contents in them, but there are small wisps of steam curling up from both as Yunho comes closer to where you’re sitting. “I saw the kettle boiling away though so I figured you wouldn’t up and leave with it still running.”

Yunho doesn’t stop moving until he reaches the window seat, and he extends one of the mugs towards you. The inside of a mix of green of brown, no doubt some type of tea that he’s brewed for you. You take it with a slight nod and restrained smile.

“I know Hongjoong said you didn’t want to be bothered without notice but…” Yunho trails off, cheeks glowing a bit red. “I was worried about you since this time of year is always hard for you.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, but your tone is too clipped and noncommittal to be normal. Yunho surely knows that it is more than a simple white lie. “Did one of them send you?” He most likely knows who you’re talking about, but he shows more confusion than anything else.

“Why would one of them send me?” He asks as he eases down in front of you on the window seat. You blink back with a bit of dazed wonder to your stare, half-expecting Yunho to explain further, but he just sits and waits patiently for you to speak again.

“To – to make the conversation easier?”

“What conversation?” Yunho leans across the space between your bodies, and his free hand spreads forward to tangle with yours. You let him interlock your fingers. It’s a small comfort that sends shockwaves through your body. It hasn’t even been that long since you last saw one of the witches, but you’re still somehow so desperately touch-starved that just the slight touch has tears springing to your eyes. “Oh, my baby, sweet angel, what’s wrong?”

Yunho pushes forward until he’s all but in your lap at this point, hand tugging the mug free from your hands, and he sets it down beside his own on the windowsill before returning his full attention to you. He tugs you into his embrace, arms folding around your body until he can loop his hands about your waist.

“Why did you think I came, baby?” He asks once you’re fully secured in his lap.

“I just — when I saw you — I-I don’t know. M-My mind said that it had to be – that you were here to end things or something. I don’t know, I’m just rambling, I don’t know what I’m saying or what I was thinking. I’m s-sorry, I—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Y/n,” Yunho interjects, drawing a hand up from your waist to brush over your scalp. “Don’t ever apologize for something you can’t control. Those thoughts are not your fault. Did you want to have them?”

“N-No, of course not, why would I ever want that?” You mumble against Yunho’s shoulder. He hums into your hair, lips pressing a soft kiss to the same spot, then he lifts his chin a bit to rest it atop your head.

“Then it isn’t something you need to apologize for, baby. Not now, not ever.” You cling tighter to Yunho’s body out of sheer instinct, and he picks up on your grip in less than a second. “Our minds… regardless of how strong and resilient we are, they can be cruel. They can lie to us, tell us awful and heartbreaking things, lead us to believe the impossible with ease. Sometimes it is easier to cave in and listen to those demons rather than reason, but that doesn’t mean you are weak. The strongest person in the universe can be broken by his own mind because that is all part of human nature.”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff out as a few tears begin to soak through Yunho’s tunic. “You aren’t human.” Yunho laughs a bit at your quip, not at all offended by it. Perhaps it’s a bit childish for you to pull that card, but Wooyoung pulls it out every time the pair have a disagreement without fail, so what’s the harm in you using it just this once?

“Perhaps not, but I still understand emotions and thoughts better than any human could. And having lived for so long, I think—”

“You don’t need to pull the age card,” you whine.

“If you’re going to act like Wooyoung, then I’ll treat you just like him too.”

Admittedly, your mind is still elsewhere and you aren’t fully engaged in the conversation now, head propped on Yunho’s shoulder in such a way so that you can stare out the window and watch the rainfall again. He doesn’t comment on your silence and merely eases the both of you back until he’s leaning against the wall with you neatly draped over his larger form.

“Do you love me?” You ask after some time passes. It catches Yunho a bit off-guard, and his breath hitches sharply, hand pausing in its rhythmic drags over the small of your back.

“Always and forever, baby,” he says once he recovers a bit. He pauses, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out what to say next. “We all love you. We would never lead you on or toy with your feelings. You are more than enough, but never too much. While it’s easy to lose yourself in these feelings of loneliness, we would never blame you for feeling them.”

“Isn’t it hard on you too though?” You ask, balling your fist around the material of his shirt.

“It’s hard for all of us, darling. Seeing you in pain and hurting is never easy. There are some things we cannot fix though. We can ease the pain for a time, but certain things never go away. Sure, we can make them easier to manage and handle, we can provide methods that will help support you and help you not feel so alone, we can do everything in our power to help you. We cannot pretend to be able to fix you. You have the strength to overcome it; we support you when times are tough and help you up when you fall. Because we love you, care about you, cherish you, and want the best for you. That… that doesn’t make it easy, but it is never easy to work through these sorts of things.”

“How can you be so patient with me?”

“Why would I ever want to rush something that takes time? I don’t need to put a time limit on you, and we certainly don’t have a time limit on our relationship. Thus we are willing to wait as long as it takes even if it just means making winters easier to handle and manage.” Yunho’s hands trace patterns over your skin, slipping under the hem of your shirt to have more contact with you. The sudden chill of his fingers sends goosebumps over you. He cracks a small smile as you shiver in his grasp and tucks you closer to his body without saying anything for several minutes.

It’s comfortable and needed right now, easing the dull and aching pain in your chest, but as Yunho said, it doesn’t completely take it away. Makes it manageable and easier to breathe. It’s enough, more than you could have asked for, and what you were wanting so desperately. It was just too hard to admit it and voice it to them.

“I did talk with Hongjoong before coming,” Yunho says after letting the silence drag into something warm and comfortable. You hum in acknowledgment, too content in his arms to move in the slightest. “Asked him if we could prepare the guest room.”

“Is someone coming into town?” You mumble through the sudden wave of drowsiness washing over your bones.

“No, I — we... we were hoping that you could come live with us, at least through the end of winter.”

That causes you to perk up, and you sit up, hands firmly planted on Yunho’s chest so you can better look him in the eye.

“What?”

“I know last year Wooyoung and Jongho came to live in with you, but we were thinking that perhaps it would be easier on you if you just came to live with us. It doesn’t have to be permanent if you don’t want it to be. Don’t – it isn’t meant to pressure you or anything like that. Merely an offer. Something we can do to help you. I figured having a room to yourself would give you an opportunity to have a space on your own for when you need it. The goal isn’t to eliminate all your alone time, as that is just as important as spending time with others, but a fresher perspective might help. Or even just having the option to sleep beside someone every night could help with the loneliness.”

Your heart swells with emotion, and the gentle smile pulling at Yunho’s lips only makes you want to sob from how touched you are. Yunho sees the sudden twist in your expression. His hands dart up to cradle your face, eyes falling into soft crescents as a more bashful smile overtakes his features.

“Are those happy tears or sad ones?”

“I d-don’t know how to respond,” you whisper through a small sob, and Yunho tugs you down to his chest again. He rocks your form back and forth as best he can with the awkward angle, but it provides the right amount of comfort for you to settle against him once more.

“Think about you, baby. You don’t need to answer right away. Seonghwa won’t mind extra time to clean, of course.”

“Or I could just sleep with you until it’s cleaned to his liking.” You smother the words in his clothes to keep him from hearing them, but that is to no avail because he huffs out a loud laugh at your comment nonetheless.

“Or I could stay with you here until you’re ready to make a decision.”

You twist in his grasp to look him in the eye again, searching his dark gaze for… something you aren’t wholly aware of. The light from outside — a dull and grey-toned white light — reflects off his eyes and shows off those pretty purple flecks in them. The allure of his features hits in that moment, the dastardly effect of staring too long at a fae, but Yunho blinks his eyes shut before you fall into a daze.

“Don’t let me influence your decision. It’s up to you as always. I am content to do whatever is more comfortable to you, so you—”

You cut him short with a swift peck pressed to the tip of his nose, and Yunho scrunches up his face at the suddenness of the action. His eyes flutter open once more but this time you don’t stare directly into them.

“You’re the devil,” he grumbles, but the smile on his lips betrays how flustered he really is.

“Don’t laugh too hard, I’m comfortable here.”

“Is that a smile I see?”

“I love you,” you murmur, ignoring the question for the time being. Yunho doesn’t seem to mind all too much. “Thank you. Both for being here and for helping me think clearer.”

“Always, darling. I may not be human like you, but I do love you and want the best for you. And I know the other would do the same whenever you need it.” You respond with another quick kiss to the tip of his nose, but this time Yunho catches you when you pull back and he plants a kiss on your lips before you can duck completely away. “As comfortable as this is, I am quickly losing feeling in my ass, so maybe we could resituate or go to the bed?”

“I don’t know, you make for a rather nice cushion.”

“I wonder if this is how Yeosang felt when I accidentally sat on him,” Yunho whines, slumping further back against the wall. You slap his chest with a bit of force as he complains.

“He was in his cat form and you put the full weight of your ass on him!‌ That’s completely different!”

“He survived, didn’t he?”

“Then you’ll survive having a numb ass for a little while.”

“I hate when you’re right. It’s too sexy and makes me think of inappropriate things.”

“So you’re still a man, after all, fae or not.” You land another quick jab to the side of Yunho’s head as he laughs. He doesn’t complain any longer though, even as you force him to lie completely flat on the window sill with your body still draped over his like a blanket.

“Wooyoung is downstairs, by the way.” Yunho distracts you from the sudden revelation by pressing a line of kisses down the side of your face.

“What?”

“He’s cooking dinner for us, I believe. And drawing a bath for you. We wanted to treat you.” He layers the words with more kisses, pausing over your lips to say one more thing. “Shit, wait, I think I was supposed to be in charge of the bath actually.”

“Yunho!”

“I’ll make Wooyoung do it after dinner so I can cuddle you some more.”

...

a/n: this one feels rather weak compared to the others but i was trying not to be too heavy handed with all the emotions and such in it so that’s why it might feel a little ~awkward~

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

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DATING GOT7 HEADCANON A⇴Z ⇴ Mark Tuan

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Mark is incredibly shy with his affection, he loves to wrap his arms around you or offer you a kiss, but he’ll always do it with a red glow to his cheeks. You can always tell when he’s getting coy as you’ll hear his giggle in your ear.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

It takes him a long time to build up the confidence to really talk to someone, and you were no different. You were the first to say hello on your third time of meeting at the studio, Mark was so relieved that you’d made his job easier. It surprised him more than anything how comfortable he quickly felt talking to you, trying to know as much about you as possible.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

An impulse came over him one night as the two of you met up for drinks, he wasn’t sure what suddenly prompted him to tell you how he felt, but if he didn’t follow the impulse, he never knew when he’d find the confidence to tell you again. It definitely took you by surprise, completely out of the blue, but you were more than pleased to hear how he felt. As his cheeks blushed at the end of his speech, you happily let him know how you felt too.

D ⇴ DATES

He works hard on making every date night special for you both, he’ll often greet you at your door with flowers or something to eat. He loves to do something active, he’s not one for sitting around in a fancy restaurant and talking. Your dates usually consist of something sporty, ice skating, rollerblading, anything that Mark can show off to you doing is a good thing with him. You can’t lie, you love seeing how athletic and sporty he is, even if he’s not super competitive, he’ll hate when he loses to you at anything.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

There had been a couple of dates in school whilst he was in America, but since he came to Korea, he’d never been phased about dating, and instead wanted to focus on his career. He knew he was starting to reach an age where he had to think about the future, and that was something he really started to consider whilst with you. He had goals in his life that he wanted to achieve, he’d achieved a lot with his music, but also, he wanted to be married within the decade. He’d never focussed on anything but his career, but when he met you, he really began to consider a little more about his long-term future too.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

His temper definitely isn’t what it once was, but that still doesn’t stop the two of you squabbling from time to time. He’s become a lot more sensitive and understanding in recent years, and that definitely shows with you. He hates arguing with you, especially when he’s supposed to be the one that loves and supports you. If the two of you argue, he’ll usually take himself away from the situation to calm himself down, and then when he feels relaxed again, he’ll come back and talk things through with you, and quickly forget about the argument.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

You knew how close he was to his family, but they quickly took a liking to you despite that. Seeing that Mark had someone with him whilst he was thousands of miles away was a huge comfort for them, each time he arranged to head home they pleaded with him to take you too so that they could get to know you better.

H ⇴ HOME

He was quite keen on moving you into his place quickly, he enjoyed the company of having someone around too, even if the two of you were sat in silence. Milo also bonded with you as well, seeing the two of you curled up on the sofa when he’d come home late at night was his favourite sight, one that he knew he wanted to be able to see forever.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

Mark was the first to say, ‘I love you,’ at the end of one of your dates. You were convinced you’d be able to beat him on the air hockey table, but when you didn’t, and started to whine, he was quick to try and make you smile. Like his confession, it was a bit of an impulse, but he knew how he felt, even if he wanted to admit it in a more romantic setting.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

There are definitely times where Mark can get jealous, he’s very protective of you and your relationship. It’s usually when someone around you gets loud and he begins to feel pushed aside, he has a lot of pride, and if someone is capturing your attention more than he does he’ll definitely feel sensitive about it. If Mark gets jealous, he’ll get quiet, which you’ll quickly catch onto. You’re very quick to reassure him and shut out whoever else is around you so that you can go back to focussing on Mark instead.

K ⇴ KIDS

He was very open about wanting children in the future, with his three nieces already, he was keen on adding to the family. Mark wanted to do things the traditional way, once he was married, then he’d consider a family. His family loved to tease him about when he’d start settling down with you, as they could see how happy you both were, but also, he knew they were desperate to have more grandchildren running around the house.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Mark’s laugh was one of your favourite things about him from the moment that you met; it was the sweetest sound that always brought a smile to your face. At times he was quite quiet, so his laughter was reassuring to you to know that he was alright. He found himself laughing a lot more when he was around you, he loved to tease you and tickle you, which also brought plenty of laughter out of you. You could hear his laughter often, especially when he was playing games with Joey which would always make your heart very happy.

M ⇴ MISSING

He’d had no choice for many years but to get used to being away from his family but being away from you made him feel sixteen again. He really struggled being away from you, he hated the lonely feeling of not having someone constantly around to laugh and joke with. It was hard on him, he’d try and call his family often, but also make time for you too, he never wanted to upset anyone when he was on tour. You’d send him Milo updates as often as you could to try and make sure he was happy, but he’d only smile properly when he came back from tour and went back to lazing around the apartment with the two of you.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

Neither of you ever really settled on a nickname for each other, you tended to just speak whatever came to mind. Both of you had tendencies to use, ‘love’ more than anything else which others loved to tease you about.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He was obsessed with your smile, he loved being able to physically see that he was making you happy, especially when he’d be able to hear you laughing away too.

P ⇴ PDA

PDA wasn’t something Mark was huge on, he’d often hold your hand or keep a hand against your waist in public, but that was usually about it. He loved to care for you though, he’d often offer you a sip of his drink or a bit of his meal, and he’d always try and make sure he was opening doors for you and keeping you safe.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

The question Mark often asks is to see if you and Milo are alright. He often feels like he burdens you by caring for Milo, even though you always remind you love to look after him, but if anything ever is wrong, he’ll be straight home in a heartbeat.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Whenever he’s streaming or playing a game, he’ll write down all the comments he sees written about you. Once his stream ends, he’ll sit down with you and let you know all the things that the fans said about you. Not only does it make you feel more comfortable around the fans, but it also makes him feel a lot happier that the fans are so accepting of you both.

S ⇴ SEX

It very much depends on the mood who takes control of these moments, Mark loves to assert his dominance sometimes, but other times he’ll be more than happy to sit back and let you do the work. Regardless of who’s in charge, sex will always be a very affectionate affair. You both like to take your time, and make sure nothing gets rushed, which often leaves the two of you with blushed cheeks by the end.

T ⇴ TEXTS

He’ll text you often throughout the day, so it feels like you’re there with him. He likes his own mind sometimes, but he doesn’t necessarily like enjoying that alone, so if he can receive a text from you whilst he’s lost in his head, it’ll always make him feel better.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

Not many people truly appreciated how amazing his personality was because he was so quiet, but no one valued it more than you did. You made him feel special every time he was with you, because best of all, you understood him.

V ⇴ VACATION

Since he began dating you, he loved to try and use his holiday time for you both, but you had other ideas. Whilst he was talking to you about a trip to China, you were busy organising a trip back to LA for you both. Not only did it mean the world to his family, but also him, knowing you were willing to make such a huge effort for him.

W ⇴ WHINING

The only time you’d ever hear him moan was when he was playing games, if he ever lost, you definitely knew about it, even from the other side of the apartment.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Kisses are definitely frequent from Mark, whenever the two of you are laid together, he’ll love to kiss you, whether it be the top of your head, the back of your hand, or against your cheek. You can always feel his smile whenever he kisses you, whenever his eyes meet yours, he’ll always end up with a horrendous blush which you’ll definitely tease him for. He’ll never stop kissing you though, he’ll just hide his face whilst he does.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his rock, no one was there for him like you were.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

It was a battle most nights for Mark’s attention against Milo, you’d often roll over to feel Milo’s paw resting up against you. When you’d wake up the following morning and complain to Mark that Milo stole you, all he’d ever do was laugh.

---

Masterlist

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nemycchi · 4 years ago

Text

Among the Stars

A Childe X Lumine Fanfiction

General Rating

Angst, Love, Family, Betrayal, New Beginnings

Maybe, in another life, this was not how things would have ended.

Lumine likes to think that that is the case. That somewhere out there—across the stars she once traversed, across the worlds she once explored, a version of herself is living contentedly. Maybe in a quaint house filled with various trinkets from her adventures, maybe even in a big mansion overflowing with memories of her conquers—the details do not matter, as long as it is a home.

As long as it is with him. As long as it is with them.

She pulls at her crimson scarf—worn-out from years of use, both from her and its previous owner, as the winds of Snezhnaya blows harder, sharper and colder against her skin. She should be well-acquainted by now to this harsh weather seemingly ever-present in this region of Teyvat from constant visits but she shrugs it off as the lack of warmth reminds her of the years that went by.

Ah, there it is again. That fleeting feeling—like a thief in the night, sneakily closing in when your guards are lowest. Kind of like how he easily slid into her life unabashedly, taking her world by storm—

And apparently leaving with a destruction of the same magnitude.

But she guesses that she should be thankful—for he left something to remember him by. Far more important than anything she has right now, far more important than she is and will ever be.

Lumine sighs deeply. It seems like her old friend—a ghost of tantalizing blue eyes and soft touches, is back again to prompt her to spiral back down into the abyss—into the void she so desperately avoids recalling lest she forgets the present, which is far more important now that she is not on her own anymore.

So, despite the turn her thoughts took, she smiles. Though she thinks he would be disappointed at its bitterness as she trudges on the snow-covered cobblestone walkway, steps slowly but surely taking her back to him.

For a second, she has the half-thought to turn around and start walking away, but no, she has been steeling her resolve for the last four years already, and she knows that it is time to face him once more. Maybe for the last time. Not to fight again, but to let him go. For her sake, for their sake.

At last, with finality in her eyes, she stops before him. Her hand reaches out to touch the polished marble and its coldness seeps into her core, even through the fabric of her glove.

“Hey. I’m here.” she whispers into the thin air reverently, silently praying to Barbatos that he carries her words to him.

And as tears start tracking down her eyes, she promises herself that this would be the last time she weeps for him.

For her sake. For their sake.

---☆☆☆---

Four years ago, she found herself and Childe tucked away in an open cave, not too far from the Harbinger’s headquarters in Snezhnaya. There, under the dark of the night and the guidance of the stars—he succumbed to his feelings.

“I love you, Lumine.”

And she cried. She never knew that she was capable of such fickle thing that mortals of Teyvat do in distress or in utter elation. In her case, she would attribute it to relief—to the consolation that through her seemingly never-ending journey in this world that persisted for years, her love would be returned.

No, scratch that. Despite the lack of utterance, she believed that it was not her who fell first. Rather, it was him. Though from the hesitance in his eyes and the hint of reticence in his voice, she figured it was a fact that was hard to swallow. Especially for him—a footman of the opposing side.

And so even in that moment, regardless of the warmth coursing through her veins, she found herself asking why now.

“But, Childe—”

Before she could continue, he stopped her by pressing a finger on her lips.

“Sshhh. Come now, ojou-chan. Let’s not think of trivial matters such as allegiance and all that, okay? I can practically see the gears in your pretty little head turning at an alarming rate!” the playfulness in the way he spoke was not lost on her.

Fresh tears still streaming down her eyes, she thought about what this could mean. At the end of the day, it was useless. He was still a Harbinger and she an outlander bound to oppose them. They were destined to face one another, especially then when war is literally on their doorstep—with the Tsaritsa pledging allegiance to the Abyss Order and the knights of the rest of Teyvat on their way to Snezhnaya.

A war is brewing, and their love would be nothing but a thorn on each other’s side.

Yet, even with that knowledge, she chose not to say a word anymore for she knew that he knew as well.

A flash in his usually cold stare and she was brought back to that surreal moment. His finger slid from her lips to her jaw, slightly tracing its curve before cupping it in his hand.

“Just for tonight, let’s forget that. Just for tonight, can I be… Ajax and you—Lumine?” he whispered, pain evident in the shift of his tone.

Gold met the pleading ocean and she realized the weight of her answer. It’s now or never.

And so, allowing herself that moment of weakness, she surrendered. Just like how he did. They will be honest. To each other. Just this time. Just for tonight.

As she raised herself up on her toes, hands reaching out to him, she promised that she will never forget this. The warmth of his arms around her, the sound of his voice as he called out her name in reverence, and the latter satisfaction as their love burned hotter than the brightest star in the sky. She wished upon its luminance that she could keep him like this, with her.

Forever.

---☆☆☆---

The time of judgment was not kind for it decided to show itself the day after that fateful night. The cold of Snezhnaya never seeped into her bones deeper than it did that moment, with her still standing and four of the Harbingers down the ground.

It was a battle she could not afford to lose. She cannot allow herself to waiver, even with blood coating her arms and one leg clearly limping. She cannot lose—she must buy time until her allies arrive. The outlander trudged on and dread churned in her gut at the inevitable fate that lies ahead of her.

And there it really was. A scene she never wanted to see.

The rest of the Harbingers stood on her way, including him.

She watched the brief flash of pain across his eyes before he looked away.

No, Ajax. You knew the consequences. You cannot hesitate now.

Lumine smiled bitterly at the reminder. She knew this yet at that moment, she genuinely wished she never came down in Teyvat, or that she was just a normal mortal in this world instead. Maybe she would not have to swallow down her tears as she gripped her sword harder in one hand, anemo energy already collecting on her other.

She knows that she is a breath away from losing, with their sheer number against her sole prowess, yet she fought on. She jumped at elemental strikes of varying colors to her best ability, she dashed to evade a multitude of physical attacks on her person with agility she did not know she still possess.

It went on and on, like a game of cat and mouse—with her being hunted down and one slip-up could mean her end. However, no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she cannot help but notice the lack of enthusiasm in the chase of hydro spears coming after her as she twisted between pillars. He was clearly trying not to hit her and she hated it somehow.

Though it seemed that that moment of distraction as she observed was the perfect opportunity for her other opponents to send her flying across the platform. She gasped loudly as she landed on her broken arm and leg.

It hurts.

Her eyes glazed over, unfocused, as she spotted icicles rushing towards her from all direction. Maybe this was the end. Maybe it would be better this way for her. Maybe she bought enough time already. Maybe she was enough.

She closed her eyes, awaiting her demise as she laid broken on the ground. But it never came. Instead, she found herself covered in a bubble of hydro magic frozen in patches. Through the gaps between the ice, she spied the man she came to love standing in front of her.

No, it can’t be!

But it was apparently the reality as she watched his former allies charge at him for this act of treason. Before another burst of ice covered the bubble, she remembered hearing a faint whisper.

“I’m sorry, ojou-chan.”

---☆☆☆---

Jean and Barbara arrived, along with other knights which prompted the remaining Harbingers to flee. Three additional to the first four they came across with of the Tsaritsa’s strongest footmen lied unconscious and another one was barely breathing a few steps from the bubble they found her in. As the familiar pulse of healing thrummed in Lumine’s veins, she did not waste time and she scrambled to reach him.

His mask lay useless and cracked beside him, his bow beyond repair. His clothes were in tatters except his scarf, which somehow remained intact. All these were duly noted but at the sight of his eyes, she crumbles—presence of the Knights of Favonius be damned.

She cried her heart out, as his breath slowly stuttered even more—as the almost non-existent glow in the blue depths darkened even more.

The acting grandmaster of the knights was somehow moved and she sat next to her, placing her hand on the fallen’s chest to attempt to heal him. But from the way she took her hand back abruptly, and the manner with which she looked away, Lumine realized the cold and harsh truth.

Right then, the unforgiving wind of Snezhnaya breezed through them. It was not strong at all, yet she felt faint—as if it took her life away. And as the coldness settled deep in the recesses of her heart, she swore she heard the faintest of a wish as a whisper in the gust.

“Keep living, ojou-chan.”

---☆☆☆---

Back in the present, Lumine kneels on the ground in front of the marble stone depicting his name. It has been four years since that day yet she remembers each and every detail of their parting clearly. She recalls with bitterness the moment when they won for it certainly did not go without its costs.

Aether is safe and is now back in their realm. As for her, she is left down here in Teyvat—for she has found herself something to tie her existence on. She does not just live for herself now. She lives in honor of his name—in honor of what they created, of what he left behind. And she swears that she will continue to do so until the end of her days.

But sometimes, as loath as she is to admit, she finds herself unable to forget his eyes, his touch, his everything without pain. It hurts. And it still hurts to this day.

So, she resolves that maybe, it is not something she has to carry anymore. That maybe, she must let go to be able to feel again. Not in that manner—for she knows that she will never love again the same way, but for her to be free once more.

Lumine tightens her hold on the scarf as she pries it away from herself. Tears continue to fall down her golden eyes as she folds it neatly and places it atop the stone.

“You’re free now, Ajax.” she sobs, acknowledging the conclusiveness of her words.

Just like that day, the winds blow gently and she looks up to the night sky filled with a multitude of bright stars.

It is over.

Done.

It is time to move on.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she stands up and turns her back from him. One last time, she reminds herself not to look back anymore—for her sake, for his sake. She walks away, with finality—allowing the comforting familiarity of the darkness of the night to embrace her in place of the warmth that will never be there anymore.

---☆☆☆---

“Careful now—”

Upon opening the door of her past lover’s family house, Lumine feels the landing of a soft body on hers before she heard the last of the warning.

“—Big Sis. I was going to warn you, but she got to you first!” Teucer sheepishly chuckles from the distance.

She laughs a little at his antics before setting the small girl currently taking up residence on top of her on her lap instead as she sits down on the wooden floor.

Deep blue eyes seemingly filled with tears stared back at her with such an intensity reminiscent of the person she got it from.

Ajax.

“Mhm, did my little angel miss me that much?” she pulls the girl into her arms and she nuzzles her hair affectionately.

She felt more than heard her affirmation when Alyona—her daughter, their treasure—buried her head deeper into her chest. She cards her fingers through her sunshine’s golden locks and slowly rocks her back and forth.

Lumine sighs as her earlier thoughts come back again.

Maybe, in another life, this is not how things would have ended. Maybe, things would have been different.

But there is no reason to dwell on trivial matters such as what-ifs and what-nots anymore. She will be happy, she will be contented. She will be home—as long as she is with her—Alyona, her new beginning.

“Say, little angel. Would you like to hear about a new story? Of the brave knight named Ajax?”

#genshin impact fanfiction #chilumi #childe x lumine

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years ago

Text

How Do I Love Thee? | Knight!Weaver x Princess!Reader | Medieval AU | Chpt. 1

Summary:

The day has finally come. Your bodyguard, the man you've trusted with your life since the day you were born, has reached the age of retirement. Being the only child of your royal parents, the King and Queen are quite keen on keeping you safe, so naturally a new one must be selected. When the dust of the tournament settles, a champion is chosen, one far younger and stronger then the last...

In an age full of tales of handsome men in shining armor and chivalrous heroes of great courage and honor, could you be in for a forbiden love story of your own?

Tags: Slow burn

Warnings: None, except for a small fight scene involving mentions of blood

“Goodnight my Lady”, your lady in waiting bows her head politely as she exits your chambers, closing the heavy wooden doors behind her with a soft thump. Her footsteps recede off into the night down through the thick stone corridors as you lay awake in your downy bed. Two sconces glow faintly in the night, providing just enough light for you to navigate the large, dark room.

Once you’re sure you’re alone, you grab your small candle and pad across the cool stone floor to steal some light. It catches quickly and you’re off once more to your desk. You pull out your poetry books and studies to retrieve a small leather bound notebook. It contains all sorts of things like sketches and sonnets that you've penned, but most of all it’s filled with your musings of the day.

You tap your quill on the edge of the inkwell and set its point to the parchment.

Today has been a rather sad one indeed. Your old guardsman has retired from your father’s service, the very same man who’s protected you and your person since you were but a little girl. He’s much like a grandfather to you in a way, and it pains you very deeply to see him leave you. Your father has tried to comfort you with the promise that a tournament will be held the very next day to get you a new guard as soon as possible, but the absence of a knight isn’t what troubles you.

You sniffle, a tear threatening fall from your eyes as you pause, recalling a lifetime of memories and yet being forced to let them go. Gathering your strength with a deep breath, you write the final words you old guard left you with:

“Be brave, my little Princess. I know you can”

At last you write that you are not looking forward to tomorrow and that you expect to be quite beside yourself. It’s all you can write before the despondency overcomes you again.

Being the Lady that you are, you retrieve one of your ever present nearby handkerchiefs and dry your eyes. You set your journal back into it’s hidden home and restore your books to keep it safe. With the desk returned just as it was, you tiptoe back to bed and blow out your candle. Moving aside the velvet drape, you think one last time on your faithful old guard, remembering all the memories of your childhood you shared as you climb back under the sheets.

Tomorrow is a new chapter for the both of you, you suppose. You hope his story ends sweetly.

---

The tournament begins with much fanfare and ado as the festivities kick things off. You’re sitting pretty in a lovely silk gown between your mother and father, both equally dressed up. There’s games and feasting and music and dancing… All the things something of this magnitude should include.

And, as you predicted, you’re quite bored indeed.

As yet another jaunty reel plays from the minstrels, you can’t help but roll your eyes and look onwards. Past the castle grounds, past the village, past the fields and farm lands… Way, way out in the distance to the forest and mountains.

That’s where your soul lies.

Being the Princess is all well and good, but in truth, your heart yearns for nothing more than to simply be free. Even if all that’s out there is more grass and trees, just as there is all around you, oh what you’d give for the chance to see it. To touch the grass and leaves you’ve never seen before. To feel and smell the wind in it’s wild, untamed stomping grounds. Some days you dream of just running away, but…

Well, your guard would never allow it. And, here you are, getting assigned yet another figure to keep an eye on you in the name of your father.

A blast of trumpets shatters your daydream as your attention is called back to present. The royal scribe stands on a podium, announcing the main attraction at last. He reads off a long, tiresome list of names “Sir this and that”, “Lord ho hum”, ugh… At least the fighting should be entertaining, you suppose.

There are several rounds and three main competitions: Jousting, Dueling, and Archery. Score will be kept and knights slowly eliminated until a final two are left, at which point, the two will engage in a duel and may the best man win.

Admittedly, you tune out for the first several rounds until the riff raff and washed up old timers are sorted out. Not as though you have any say in the matter, but you pick a few favorites and follow their progress through the competition. Although in all honesty, you pick said favorites by their horses and the colors and patterns of their coat of arms.

However… One knight in particular has caught your eye both in skill and trappings.

His coat of arms features a fierce looking tiger and swords, the style of which tells you his family hails from somewhere out east, and his horse is a lovely dusty grey. Even you must admit, his skills so far aren’t bad either. He’s coasting through the competition with little difficulty and, even with the few close calls here and there, by the time he’s made it up to the final rounds you would almost dare to say you have your heart set on him.

Silently you root him on as he tiredly batters through opponent after opponent, somehow maintaining strength and endurance up until the very last man. A few breaks have been called in between rounds up until this point, but now the last two will be taking a long recession before the final fight.

Food and drink and dance is had once more for peasants and nobility alike while each knight gathers their strength, but you can’t keep your mind off the excitement of the final duel...

When at last, the time has come, you’re on the edge of your seat.

Once more the scribe’s voice rings out over the silent crowd as the two men ready themselves in opposing corners of the muddy sparring ring, “Fighting for the honor of being named the new protectorate of the Princess, Sir Weaver and Lord Fletcher will face each other in armed combat! The rules are as follows-”

The scribe's voice fades away, and immediatly your mind begins to wander.

Sir Weaver…

The name rolls off your tongue as you watch him pace and stretch in his corner of the ring. He’s armed with a sword and shield, classic weapons of the heroes of old, just like in your books and sonnets… His shield is tall and rectangular, with that very same tiger proudly emblazoned on its front. He gives his sword a few test swings and even from here you can hear the ringing of razor sharp steel.

His opponent wields a smaller shield and a rather nasty looking mace, a classic for smashing heads and armor alike. Thankfully you won’t have to bear witness to such violence should Sir Weaver lose, but you don’t much fancy the idea of such a savage weapon anyway. It may have its place in battle, but it doesn’t seem very… Heroic.

After far too much more courtly addresses, a trumpet sounds to begin the fight.

The Lord charges the Knight, mace raised to strike, as Sir Weaver stands his ground like a tower of strength. He deflects the blow easily, as well as the few more that come after it. A smart tactic, you observe, letting the opponent come to him and tire himself out. Lord Fletcher seems to believe that he can smash right through the great steel shield as that’s where most of his strikes end up landing. Sir Weaver’s tiger is quite battered, but holds out well.

All the overhead motions of the mace swings prove to be a disservice soon enough though, as the knight stabs his way through chinks in the armor here and there as the Lord slowly grows more and more weary. His movements become sluggish and desperate, a lethal combo, and before long the mud is mixed red with the wounds of the mace wielding Lord.

To his credit, he fights to the bitter end, but the duel is called before too much blood is shed.

A roar of approval goes up from the crowd. Amidst the cheering and the fanfare, Sir Weaver bows politely before the royal family and makes to exit the arena. You cock an eyebrow. Curious, you would’ve expected more of a show given the grand odds he just overcame.

Regardless, you clap politely and watch the two men exit the ring. It’s nearly night by now and there’s still more to do. Tomorrow your new knight will be sworn in and given his orders and hours and so forth… But for now, you have many things to tell your journal tonight.

---

The next day begins as it always does. You wake up at sunrise. Your chamber maid helps you dress, pick out your outfit for the day, and style your hair. Finally, you’re ready to join your family and the court for breakfast. A few questions come your way asking about whether or not you’re excited to meet your new knight and what you thought of the tourney yesterday, but otherwise you’re ignored as usual.

When breakfast passes, the court moves on to the throne room. It’s easily the most illustrious room in the palace, save for perhaps a few that suit your particular tastes. Small windows sit high above near the vaulted ceiling, raining in sunlight and fresh air from far above. Giant chandeliers hang proudly, holding a dizzying host of candles. The walls are blanketed in gorgeous tapestries, some of which you’ve had the honor of assisting in the weaving of. They’re laced with threads of gold and silk, and when they catch the light just right, they give off an ethereal glow, bringing the stagnant scenes to life.

The typical court proceedings will begin shortly, but first the matter of your new bodyguard is to be addressed. Soon enough, Sir Grigori Weaver of, so on and so forth… is announced to the court. Finally, something interesting for the day. You sit up properly in your throne and take in the sight.

He’s dressed in an appropriately fancy set of gambeson and hose, clearly his armor is off to be under repairs. His one arm hangs freely, the other rests on the pommel of his sword, and he takes a brief look at his surroundings. He carries himself with purpose and a serious air which could almost take a turn for intimidating given a closer look. His face is rough with prickly stubble contrasted by a long, smooth mustache and hair combo. Between the two lies no feature of note aside from a grizzly scar running across a cloudy white, useless eye.

Sir Weaver nods towards you and your mother, then offers your father a proper bow, “My liege”

Your father smiles, and you can already tell you’re about to be stuck with this man whether you like it or not. He tells the knight to rise and after a brief exchange of greeting, Sir Weaver is sworn into your service complete with the whole ceremonial nonsense.

You rise and come forward, standing just a few steps above him on the throne platform. He hands you his sword and kneels before you. Without the help of any prompting, you lead him through the oath phrase by phrase and at last you tap either of his shoulders with the flat of the blade. To seal it all, you extend your hand with your signet ring.

“Thank you, my lady”, he takes your hand softly and kisses your knuckle, “I am yours”

He rises and accepts back his blade while you return to your throne. Your father makes arrangements for a whole new suit of armor to be commissioned for your knight, after all, his safety is your safety, and so forth. But for once, you don’t mind the droning on of court business.

It gives you some time to hide your blush.

#call of duty #black ops cold war #grigori weaver x reader

47 notes · View notes

kitkat1003 · 4 years ago

Text

Where the Ice Crushes the Wave

Warning, this fic contains instances of:

Dubious Consent Possession Emotional Manipulation Abuse Minor Character Death Hurt No Comfort Blood and Gore

Summary:

I don't know if you've heard of Possessed Tang, but it's everywhere on tumblr, and it's basically an excuse to hurt Pigsy. I decided to go ham. The warnings I put are real. Viewer Discretion is advised.

AO3 Link

Pigsy notices something is wrong immediately.

It’s not hard. He’s been watching Tang for years, knows him like the back of his hand. He knows that Tang is always there when he opens, at least for a few minutes. They’ll banter, then Tang will disappear for a few hours before arriving at lunch to steal some noodles. At some point, Pigsy will yell, chase him out but not really, and Tang will laugh all the while.

On a good day, Pigsy will invite Tang upstairs, and they eat dinner in Pigsy’s apartment. They’ll sit in front of the TV for hours, making fun of idiots in cooking shows, and Pigsy will deliberate over and over on the idea of moving his hand to hold Tang’s. He never does, because he’s afraid to push, afraid to ask for too much and lose what he already has.

Pigsy can feel the power he has, vibrating in his skin, hidden because the person he used to be is not who he wants to be now, ever. He knows that if he let that loose, if he grew tall and strong and dangerous, everyone around him would suffer; he holds it all in.

He just waits for Tang. He can be patient. He has spent a thousand years learning to be, and he thanks his master for teaching him, because if he was to wait for anything it would be this.

He’d spend an eternity and a day waiting for that.

For four days, though, Tang doesn’t come to the shop at all.

Pigsy texts him, calls him, and gets nothing. He shouts more, is biting and sharp for those four days, wracked with worry and desperate for answers.

He searches even the town once. Twice. He waits, because that’s what he’s good at, but at the same time he wants to grow large and take charge, to roar into the night and shake the world until it tells him where his Tang is.

Four days of waiting before Tang appears in the shop in the morning. He smiles and waves, as if he hadn’t blown Pigsy off for four days, as if he hadn’t worried Pigsy sick.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Pigsy grabs Tang by his scarf and pulls, too angry and worried and hurt to stop himself.

Tang starts but gives him an easygoing smile in return. That’s what tips Pigsy off first. The curve of the lips is wrong, more cunning than kind.

“Sorry-family emergency.” Easy deflection. Tang shrugs. “I kept meaning to text you back, but stuff kept coming up.”

Pigsy could almost accept that, except Tang has never brought up his family before. To talk about them now, it seems too...convenient. And regardless of that, Tang has never left Pigsy in the lurch like this. It’s too out of character. A quick text to say ‘I’m okay’ would take but a minute. Tang is kind enough to give Pigsy a minute of his time, he wouldn’t just let Pigsy sit worried.

Right?

He stares at Tang, squinting a little, and almost lets him go. But then.

“You changed your glasses,” he notes.

The rims are blue. He can see traces of snowflakes on the lenses.

Tang smiles, eyes shut and head tilted to one side. Pigsy is suddenly aware of something dangerous, sitting beneath his friend’s skin. The hairs on his arm stand up straight, and it is so, so obvious now that this isn’t Tang at all.

“Yes,” Not Tang says, and his smile is all teeth. “Do you like them?”

Pigsy knows a challenge when he sees one, and he takes a breath.

“Prefer your old ones, actually,” he grunts out. “Blue isn’t your color.”

Not Tang laughs. It sends a shiver down Pigsy’s spine. But it isn’t just fear, no, his cheeks color.

“On that, Pigsy, we will have to disagree.” His name out of Not Tang’s mouth sounds foreign, but it’s Tang’s voice, and Not Tang curls something soft and sweet around Pigsy’s name like it knows.

Pigsy goes to work, and firmly refuses to look over his shoulder.

He can feel Not Tang’s eyes on him anyway.

MK doesn’t notice anything wrong with Tang. Mei doesn’t either. Not Tang tells MK a story, talks animatedly with Mei about her next race and promises to be there. Pigsy makes a bowl of noodles on autopilot and hands it to Not Tang. Not Tang holds the chopsticks differently. Not Tang doesn’t slurp up the noodles and fails to give Pigsy a smirk when he finishes the bowl, like Tang would have.

Pigsy is tense the whole day, and he waits until MK heads upstairs and the shop is closed to do anything.

“Can I walk you home? Figure we should talk. Haven’t seen ya in four days,” he jerks a thumb towards the door. Not Tang tilts his head to the side, and his glasses flash in a way that is so familiar, and yet makes Pigsy shiver again.

“Sure. I missed you.” And Pigsy is taken aback, because it sounds like Not Tang means it. Maybe he—no, he knows this isn’t Tang.

But how much is it not Tang?

They walk out of the store, and down a block or two. Pigsy doesn’t know where Tang lives, though he suspects somewhere near the library, but Not Tang is following his lead. Looks like Not Tang doesn’t know, either.

He grabs Not Tang by the scarf, and drags him into an alley. He slams Not Tang against the wall, hard but not too hard because Not Tang is still Tang’s body. Tang is still mortal.

“I don’t know who the hell you are,” he starts, and he lets his tusks out, baring his sharp teeth like a challenge, a growl in his throat. His eyes glow ocean blue, his nostrils flare. “But you better get the fuck out of my friend or—”

The words die in his throat as Not Tang laughs, cold and dark, and as he looks up and sees his own gaze met with something sharp and blue and icy.

“Or what, Bajie?”

His voice has an undercurrent of something familiar, another voice Pigsy recognizes. He wracks his brain.

“What, don’t recognize me? Not surprising, when only one of your troupe ever could.”

That has Pigsy stumbling back, because he knows, now, he knows what that means. It’s a stain on his pride, one of his many regrets, it’s—

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and she laughs.

“In the flesh, so to speak. Does he suit me?” she asks, tugging on Tang’s skin and hair like one might with clothes.

She frowns, tilts his head to the side at an unnatural angle. “I’m not a fan of red,” she tells him. Then Tang changes, hair black to white from the roots. It travels down, red to blue, silver to gold. His skin gains a blue tint, as well. The air around them drops in temperature, and Pigsy can see his breath.

She brushes herself off, takes a little bow, and all Pigsy can see is Tang who isn’t—this isn’t—how did she—

She takes a confident step forward, and Pigsy, in all his rage, still only sees blue.

“You get out of him right now, or—”

In a flash, she pulls out a knife and presses it against Tang’s throat. Pigsy sees a few spots of red from where she’s pressing the blade, and cool terror sinks down his spine. She wouldn’t, would she? He can’t be sure, with how she’s wielding the weapon like a promise. He takes a step forward out of panic, and stops when she raises a brow.

“You do anything but what I say, and I stain this new outfit.” She smiles, and it’s Tang’s smile, the one that Pigsy melts under the sight of every time.

But here, now, he’s ice. Fear roots him to the spot and Pigsy swallows the lump in his throat.

“And if I tell the others about ya when you aren’t looking at me?” he grinds out between gritted teeth.

She tilts her head to the side. “Why would they believe you? After all, you wouldn’t believe your own brother,” Pigsy flinches, remembering how easy it was to get Triptaka to banish Wukong, because Bajie never would pass up an opportunity to call his brother a liar, to hurt him. “Turnabout’s fair play, and you’re on the losing side.”

Pigsy clenches his fists. He can feel the desire to get big, to roar, to tear her out of him, rise in his chest. But this can’t be solved with violence, as easy as he wants it to be. Pigsy has never been good at diplomacy.

“What do you want,” he spits out.

She brushes Tang’s hair out of her eyes. They glow in the evening light, bright and malicious.

“I have a few errands, and while this mortal is useful, he is a bit...weak.” She flexes Tang’s fingers experimentally. “You’re quite the muscle. I think you’d be quite useful, hmm?”

Pigsy does know a challenge when he sees one, but this time, he’s backed into a corner, with no way out, so he slumps his shoulders.

“Alright. Just….just don’t hurt him.” It comes out a tired plea. “And stop-don’t ruin him like that.” He gestures to her getup. He’s sure she’s only showing him this to hurt him, because he wants Tang. Not whatever this abomination is. Just practically, it would give her away if she didn’t change back. Though he’s not sure how much of a choice he gets, regardless.

She sighs, but after a moment the pleasant red and gold return, and Tang’s hair is black again.

“Fine. Picky, though,” she places Tang’s hand on his cheek, cupping the side of his face, and Pigsy’s cheeks warm. When he looks up, everything about Tang looks normal, except the blue rims on the glasses. He looks away.

“Tomorrow,” he tells her. “We’ll start tomorrow. And once-once I’m done, you’re out of him, got it?”

He glares, and she smiles, Tang’s mouth curving into something more unhinged. Brown eyes glow light blue.

“It’s a date.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tang doesn’t remember the few days that he disappears. He doesn’t even remember disappearing, to be honest. He just walks to the noodle shop as if nothing is wrong, because to him, nothing is.

He can tell that something off, though. Not wrong, but off, because when he walks the feeling of his feet against the ground is muted. Everything is a little muted, like all of his senses are muffled by something. He shakes his head a few times, to try and break through the fog. It doesn’t work.

He waves at Pigsy when he walks in, and then nearly jumps when he’s grabbed. He tries to open his mouth to say something, but suddenly everything goes cold, and he’s pushed back into his own head. Someone else takes the reins, Something Else moves his lips.

Family emergency, he hears himself say. He sees the reflection of himself in Pigsy’s eyes. His glasses are different. Pigsy notices.

He watches the Something Else make Pigsy very aware that the Something Else exists, and then he is thrown into the passenger’s seat. When MK comes over to ask for a story, Tang is allowed to tell him one. When Mei talks about her next race, Tang can avidly respond.

He keeps trying to explain that something’s wrong, to them, but when he opens his mouth to try and say the words nothing comes out, or the Something Else will say something. A joke, or a fact, or nothing at all, and doesn’t silence sometimes speak the loudest.

It knows too much about him and the longer he knows it’s in his head, the more he can feel it, cool tendrils poking into memories he’d rather have private. It searches, it pries, and it leaves no stone left unturned, leaving Tang feeling vulnerable, invaded.

The day ends. Pigsy asks to walk him home and Tang finds himself agreeing before he can stop himself, before it can. He wonders if it even tried.

They walk, and it’s only a matter of time before Pigsy snaps. Tang is honestly surprised it hasn’t happened sooner, when he’s unceremoniously thrown against the wall. It hurts, but much like his other senses, the pain is muted. He knows Pigsy isn’t using his full strength though. Pigsy can throw people five times his size out the door with ease.

He follows the conversation with bated breath, and then he sees something like recognition flicker in Pigsy’s eyes, and he hears Baigujing, and it says Bajie, and—

Oh.

There’s a knife to his throat.

He sees his reflection in Pigsy’s wide eyes. His hair is white. His eyes are a startling, glowing blue, and he can feel blood welling up where the knife pierces his skin.

Pigsy buckles. Tang watches him leave.

“What do you want?” he asks, to the Something Else.

He gets farther and farther away from control with each step she takes in his skin, every moment he isn’t allowed to speak. He can feel cool shackles on his wrists, thick as steel.

“You like him very much, don’t you?” A voice, chilling and cruel, rings in his ears. Tang doesn’t need her to specify who she’s referencing. They pass by a window, a storefront. She stops, and turns to it, so Tang can see her smile with his mouth in the reflection.

Tang’s blood turns to ice, and he wonders if it’s because she’s the one in his body or if it’s just his fear, in the end. She grins wider, and Tang’s helplessness and terror grow.

“I am going to break him, and you are going to watch.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day Pigsy is quiet. He doesn’t say much besides telling MK to take out the orders placed on the counter. His eyes occasionally flick to her, to Tang, to the thing sitting on the counter that looks familiar in looks alone.

Pigsy knows he has to remember. He can’t forget that this isn’t Tang. Even when he sees her sitting on the same barstool with that same smile, when she learns how Tang holds his chopsticks and learns how Tang eats, even when she is already perfecting something that everyone else sees is perfect.

This isn’t Tang. Pigsy can’t forget that.

That night, she gestures for Pigsy to follow her. He does, walking step by step with her, waiting for her to tell him what to do. She takes him toward the marketplace, where Pigsy goes to get his ingredients a few times a month.

“You remember that Spider Queen, don’t you? Quite the adventure we had,” she says, and Pigsy bristles at the implication.

“You weren’t there,” he growls out.

She places a hand on Tang’s chest, expression one of mock offense. “How could I not have been? I mean, you were there with me. Is this not the skin?” she tugs on the fleshy part of Tang’s wrist, hard enough that the skin goes red.

Pigsy says nothing, and shrugs.

“Regardless, the Spider Queen will get in my way if she isn’t handled, so you’ll take care of her. Better to squash a bug before it grows.” She points to the Spider Queen’s stall.

“I don’t kill anymore,” Pigsy grunts.

He hasn’t for years. He took that part of himself and locked it away, made himself small because he wanted people to feel safe around him without being scared of what he could do. He doesn’t kill. He makes people food, he doesn’t harm them more than any other mortal could.

The knife is back out, and Pigsy knows where she’ll imply it going.

“I do,” she purrs. “And you’re mine, so you do too.”

Pigsy clenches his fists, and shifts.

He’d imagined showing Tang his demon form. Imagined preparing for months, carefully explaining. Imagined going someplace remote, someplace theirs, and revealing himself. Imagined scenarios where Tang ran, imagined scenarios where Tang stayed.

He grows tall, and burly, and looming and powerful. He’s about eight feet tall, here, with the muscles to match the height. His rake appears in his hand, prongs sharp. It’s as tall as he is, and the prongs are longer than his forearm. She looks up at him with an impressed expression that looks wrong on Tang’s face, yet makes Pigsy’s cheeks burn anyway.

“Magnificent,” she breathes, and he shivers at the sound.

He holds his rake tight, setting it on his shoulder and glancing over to the stall. He tries to stop his hands from shaking, as she leads him to the entrance.

“Give me a lift, won’t you dear?” she asks and Pigsy grits his teeth.

He lifts Tang up, gentle with his body because even if Tang isn’t the one asking Pigsy will be damned if he hurts him like this, and they descend.

The Spider Queen’s lair is as eerie as he remembers it, though it seems to have been upgraded. There are pods of glowing green liquid everywhere, and a computer as well. He catches what looks like a human bent over it, tapping at keys and sighing to himself.

“Is it done yet? The world needs its Queen to return.” He hears her voice from the right, and shifts a little to hide as she comes in. The man at the computer stiffens, and turns around at perfect attention, bowing.

“U-Unfortunately, such a complex undertaking is going to take more time, my Queen,” the man trembles out.

“What are you waiting for?” Tang’s voice slithers into his ear, and Pigsy fights back the urge to growl, letting out a huff of a breath and narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

“An opening,” he replies.

“This has to be done by New Years! I want to start the Year of the Spider on time,” she growls the last part out.

“Y-Yes, my Queen,” The scientist replies.

She turns away, and that’s when Pigsy jumps down. She just barely dodges his rake and Tang jumps off of his shoulder to settle in the shadows. Fine. Now Pigsy doesn’t have to worry about him getting caught in the crossfire.

The Spider Queen recovers quickly, getting into a battle stance. She gives him a once over, and then smirks.

“So the pig is back to fight, hmm? I would have liked to see you in this form last time,” She purrs out the words, chuckling to herself.

Pigsy charges without response. He swings his rake, she ducks, throwing out a sharp leg. He blocks with his arm and grunts when the blade edge of her leg digs in. He lifts a leg and kicks her, no holds barred where her humanesque body and her spider body meet. A weak point.

She lets out a shout of rage as she’s knocked back. He slices to the right, knocking off her helmet. Long, messy black hair tumbles down in front of her face. She pushes it back, darts forward, throwing out some webs.

He dodges the first few, but one catches him by the foot, trapping him to the floor. He twists and dodges as best he can when he can’t move, but she’s closing in.

He throws out the rake, in a last ditch attempt as she goes in for the killing blow, and catches her neck between two of the prongs, following through with the swing, bringing her crashing down onto her side.

“Fool!” she grits out, twisting her legs to try and stand. “I am the Queen of this world! I will feed you to my subjects, you—”

Pigsy twists the rake in one sharp motion.

Crack.

She goes very silent, and very still. Pigsy breathes, as her body slumps down on itself.

Okay.

Pigsy slowly, carefully, pulls away the rake.

He waits for movement. He finds none.

Okay.

“Do try and make sure she stays dead.”

He jumps at the sound, turning around to see Tang.

Tang is watching. Tang. Tang watched—

Not Tang. He has to remember that.

Her eyes glitter in the low light.

“A broken neck can be fixed. Make sure she can’t come back. Wouldn’t want to have to deal with a vengeful Queen, right?” She gestures to the corpse.

Pigsy grips his rake tightly.

The prongs go through flesh far too easily.

He thinks they’re about done, but then she points to the computer. More specifically, to the man cowering beneath the control panel of the computer.

“No witnesses,” she says. “Get rid of him.”

Pigsy is frozen in his spot.

“Please,” the man begs. “I didn’t want to help, I had no choice! She was going to kill me-I-I’ll destroy everything I did! I’ll delete the code. Everything!”

“You misunderstand.” Tang-she-walks carefully towards the cowering mortal. “We didn’t do this to save the world. We did this to get her out of my way.”

Dawning horror flashes on the man’s face.

Pigsy hesitates. A demon is one thing, this is just a mortal. A human. Pigsy glances at the man, and imagines her pointing him at MK. Or Mei. He couldn’t. He can’t.

“Would you rather I do this?” She pulls out the knife, pointing it at the man. “I know you prefer him in red, though I hear blood is difficult to get off clothes.”

At the thought of Tang, who could be still in there, having to watch himself kill, Pigsy moves.

The man hedges his bets and runs. He ducks under the knife and Pigsy’s outstretched arm, sprints toward the exit, but Pigsy’s arm swings around after him. He can’t take more than a step forward because his foot is still stuck by the webs, but his legs are long and his arms much the same. He reaches over in a panic, and grabs the man by the head, aiming to muffle his shouting, stop him from doing anything while Pigsy tries to negotiate, when—

There’s a sickening crunch, and squelch, and the man goes limp.

Pigsy is very, very aware of the liquid dripping from between the spaces of his fingers. He’s afraid to open his hand.

She claps, then is at his side, cutting him free of the webs.

“Good work.” She pats him on the side.

Pigsy trembles. Slowly, he opens his hand.

All of his body falls but the head. The head.

Pieces drop, clattering or squishing or dripping. Pigsy’s hand is covered in it. Hair clings to his fingers. Skin folds in on itself on the ground, with nothing solid to hold it taut.

Pigsy feels like he’s going to be sick. He didn’t mean….he hasn’t taken this form in years, decades, he isn’t used to the power it holds. He didn’t mean to, he was panicked, he just, he needed the man to stop. That was it, it wasn’t on purpose, he didn’t mean—

“Feels good,” she whispers in his ear, somehow. “Doesn’t it?”

Pigsy stumbles away, trying to shake the pieces, the blood, the person off of his hand. He trips over the Spider Queen’s body and crashes into the computer, destroying it. His knees pull toward his chest as he tries to breathe.

It takes a good minute for him to realize that she’s rubbing a hand up and down his back in a comforting manner. He looks down at her, because even sitting he’s taller, and her smile is—that’s not hers.

“Tang?” his voice is hoarse. His tusks always get in the way of speaking.

Tang smiles. It’s soft, pitying, almost sympathetic.

Pigsy feels himself melt, a little. It’s almost familiar.

“It’s okay,” Tang says, but is it him? Pigsy doesn’t know if he wants it to be. A part of him craves the comfort of something familiar, another doesn’t want Tang to see him at his worst, covered in blood, with a body count.

“That’s enough for tonight,” Tang says, she says, Pigsy can’t tell. His head is already trying to process what he’s done. “Let’s go. C’mon.”

Pigsy lets himself be helped up. He lifts Tang onto his shoulder and climbs out of the cave, shivering when the chilly night air whips past him. He still has a few hours before he has to get up for work. He sets Tang down on the ground, shifts back to his smaller form.

Tang looms over him like this. Pigsy regrets becoming small.

“Shall we?” Tang gestures towards Pigsy’s apartment.

Pigsy nods, and they walk home. Once they arrive, Tang heads to the couch, and Pigsy to the bathroom. He scrubs and scrubs at his hands, until the water stops turning pink and then some. His palms burn, skin scraping against skin, but he can see the pieces that can’t fit in the drain.

He vomits, finally, in the toilet. He coughs, wiping his mouth, and hunches over the sink, glancing at himself in the mirror. Deep breaths. He just needs to remember that this will be over, eventually.

“I’m going to bed,” he calls, as he leaves the bathroom.

His hands are still shaking. His throat burns, and he lets it, maybe as a punishment. He doesn’t know.

“Goodnight!” Comes a voice that sounds too much like the real thing. Pigsy takes in a shuddering breath and vanishes into his bedroom.

He curls underneath the blankets and tries to get the cold feeling to escape his bones. It seems to settle in, regardless.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Whatever Tang had imagined she’d make Pigsy do, it wasn’t this. He watches as they head to the market, and then as Pigsy changes, per her request.

He wonders if Pigsy would have ever shown him this form otherwise. As is, Tang is terrified, but not of Pigsy. He’s worried for Pigsy. Because he knows the power Zhu Bajie can wield. here He knows that she knows, too.

Watching Pigsy fight and kill is as impressive as it is heartbreaking. He can see the shock, the horror, as Pigsy grapples with his actions. Tang can’t fight the revulsion when he sees Pigsy kill the poor bystander but at the same time he can’t hate him for it.

He could never hate Pigsy foremost, but in this instance, he can’t hold this carnage against him. Not when Pigsy curls in on himself, his bigger form trying to be as small as possible. Not when he won’t look at his own blood-stained hands.

He moves to take a step, stumbles as she throws him the controls. The longer he isn’t allowed to do anything, to speak, to move, the harder it is to get used to doing it when he has control. He wonders if he’ll forget how to walk eventually. He wonders if he’ll forget how to breathe.

He tries to comfort. He’s not allowed to tell Pigsy that it’s him, because she won’t let him, but he can comfort, because she needs Pigsy functioning for this to work. Maybe Tang should be offended that she’s using him, but truthfully, he just wants to do something to help Pigsy. He can’t just stand aside to watch. It’s almost worth being used if he’s used to help.

Pigsy looks at him, then. Tang wants to apologize. To beg for Pigsy to stop. He doesn’t know if Pigsy can recognize that it’s him, either. The words don’t make it to his throat and she throws him into the backseat again.

When they get home, Pigsy stays in the bathroom for too long. Tang hears the sound of retching and winces. He wishes he could do something, say something.

As he falls asleep, he still wishes he could apologize. For something. Anything. Everything.

He can’t feel his legs.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Pigsy gets up and heads to work. Tang is sitting upright on the couch. Pigsy pointedly doesn’t look at him, quick while making breakfast, eating, and grabbing his chef’s coat before heading to the shop. He typically starts two hours before opening, setting up the dough, stringing out noodles.

He’s slow, today. His hands shake as he tries to work, he’s halfway to where he’s supposed to be when MK comes down, on time for once. He forces himself to speed up because he knows calls will be coming in soon.

He sets the broth to boil, stirring once, glancing down at it to check its progress, and—

It’s red.

It’s red and it’s spilling from his fingers, sticky and thick as it falls into the broth, the stench of it has him trembling violently enough that the spoon slips from his fingers. Pieces of hair and bone bubble up from the bottom, and Pigsy sees an empty eye socket, staring at him in terror, pleading horror, begging for mercy.

He grabs the pot and pours it into the sink, he can’t let anyone see it, can’t let anyone know what he’s done, the stains settling deep into his skin with no way out, no way to make it disappear. A man is dead. A man is dead and Pigsy killed him and it’s everywhere and everyone is going to know and he has to get rid of it.

When he pours it into the drain, there’s not a spot of red in it. He watches his half an hour’s worth of work disappear with an unsteady breath, setting the pot back on the stove and washing his hands. The water boils his fingers.

“Uh...Pigsy?” MK calls.

Pigsy turns and does not look in the direction where he knows Tang will be. He catches MK’s expression, brow is pinched in concern.

“What?” He doesn’t mean to growl the words out as he does.

“Um, why’d you do that? It looked almost ready,” MK points to the now empty pot.

Pigsy hides his shaking hands by clenching them into fists. “Bad batch,” He replies, succinct.

When he glances MK’s way, he imagines how easy it would be for him to repeat last night. Would it sound the same, the skull crunching in his grip quick, or would MK’s Monkey King powers offer enough resistance so that it’d be slow?

Pigsy remembers his old name, his old title, his old desires. He would fight with Sun Wukong and enjoy it. He is powerful, then and now.

He promised himself he wouldn’t be that person again, that he’d be better. But looking back at that journey, is it any wonder that he’s so quickly fallen back into the same bad habits? Zhu Bajie was rude, cruel, a liar.

Why’d Pigsy expect that he could change?

“A shame.”

He nearly jumps, at the sound of her voice, his voice. He glances at the blue rimmed glasses, brown eyes. Warm and cold.

“It looked delicious, at least,” Tang says, head resting on his palm. He smiles, soft.

Pigsy looks away.

He gets back to work.

Some of her jobs are simple. Break something, find an artifact. Pigsy learns not to ask questions, because none of the answers give him much comfort. Occasionally, Pigsy will get his hands messy, stained with the blood of demons. Those nights he barely sleeps, too busy trying to scrape the dried liquid from beneath his fingernails.

He justifies it, even though there is no true justification for the carnage. Thankfully, there haven’t been any more mortal deaths. The demons he fights are bad, he thinks, as he watches them bleed out on the floor. The demons he fights would be going after MK if he didn’t get rid of them first.

MK mentions offhandedly that there haven’t been as many demon fights recently. Pigsy horrifies himself with the sick satisfaction he feels, the pride that swells in his chest.

He’s able to justify his actions, but it doesn’t fix the gaping hole in his chest with every swing of his rake. The worst part, he thinks, is that it’s becoming easier to do. There’s a certain familiar numbness that comes with a higher and higher body count. He went through it thousands of years ago, when he first began fighting, and he goes through it now.

It settles in faster this time. Must be his experience.

He stays in the kitchen more often during the day. Ignores the banter between MK and Mei when they barrel in, only half hears the stories shared. He tries to lose himself in the motions of cooking, something that’s his, safe. He can still do this. So he’s fine.

She’s always there, either at the counter during the day or by his side at night. Pigsy makes a few valiant attempts to text someone, to tell them what’s happening, but she steals his phone and Pigsy isn’t allowed to touch it. She nearly cut off Tang’s finger when he attempted to take it back. He stops trying.

She follows him when he goes out, whether it be to the market or just on walks. No one raises an eyebrow at this—Pigsy has always stuck close to Tang, and vice versa. To the outside world, this is normal. She can tease and cloy and claw her way close to him and it’s just the silly antics everyone else expects. Any reaction Pigsy has is normal too, when he shouts and rages and pushes Tang away, because that’s just how he reacts. He’s loud and he’s mad.

He’s being played and he’s playing right into her clutches, but he doesn’t know what he can do.

Pigsy is so tired. Some days, he manages to convince himself that things will be fine, soon. He has to think it will be. If the demons were stronger than him, he thinks, maybe they’d deserve to live.

If they were stronger than him, maybe he’d get to stop.

Another development, one he can’t wrestle his feelings together on, is how Tang, how she, acts during their expeditions. There are lingering touches across his back, fingers trailing on his neck, a palm cupping his cheek. Sweet smiles thrown his way, gentle words whispered into his ear, arms curling around his form as he’s pressed against Tang’s body.

Every time he freezes, caught between revulsion and want, because he loves. Desperately.

That’s why he’s doing this after all. That’s why he even bothers. Sleepless nights, reopened wounds, returns to bad habits—it’s all for a man Pigsy cares just a little too much for.

She gets bolder with each passing night. Interlaces their fingers when he sets his hand on the counter during the day. Sends him compliments that make him weak in the knees. He knows that it’s not Tang, but sometimes he wonders. Maybe hopes.

Because she’ll smile at him, but it'll be Tang’s smile, soft and almost a smirk but never quite there. He doesn’t know if that means Tang is still in there or if she’s just getting better at pretending to be him.

He doesn’t know which is worse.

It’s a little over a month later, one night after a job that leaves Pigsy’s hands bloody and his eyes weary, that he gives way, collapses in on himself. He grabs Tang’s scarf in shaky hands and trembles, because he’s so tired. He misses his best friend. He misses the person he’d do anything for, the person he’s doing the unspeakable for.

“Please,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Take me-just-I’m stronger than him-I won’t fight back, you can do all the damage you want just—” he chokes on the words. “Give him back to me. You can have me, just give him back.”

He takes a shuddering breath, blinking away tears. They fall down his face anyway.

“Please.”

He trembles against Tang, something familiar made foreign because she’s stolen it from him, against something as silence fills the space.

Soft hands lift his chin and he hears a chuckle so familiar. He hates that doesn’t know who is laughing.

“Oh, Pigsy,” And it’s her, and it’s Tang, and Pigsy searches for understanding as a thumb brushes away his tears. She, Tang, leans down until their eyes are level.

Pigsy searches for something familiar in them.

His favorite color is the color of Tang’s eyes, brown with a hint of red, soft and warm.

“Why would I need you, when you’re already giving yourself to me?”

And then Tang-she-his lips collide with Pigsy’s and-and-and—

Pigsy’s eyes are wide. This is-he’s wanted this for years, it’s everything, nothing, all at once.

He shouldn’t like this. This isn’t-it isn’t Tang. But Pigsy is pressed against the wall as Tang’s body leans forward, like everything Pigsy has ever wanted, and Pigsy closes his eyes. He closes his eyes and forgets, just for a moment, where he is and what’s happening, decides to be selfish.

When his eyes are closed, he can’t see anything. He can only feel Tang’s hands on the sides of his face, holding him so tenderly, Pigsy’s hands still bunched up in that scarf. He can’t see the glowing blue eyes, or the smirk, he can only feel the smile against his lips.

Tang pulls away first. Pigsy drops his hands and nearly trips over himself, eyes wide open again to blue eyes and a wide smile and a laugh that is cruel and knowing.

“My, my, that sure was something! You really are desperate, aren’t you?” she says.

Pigsy wipes his mouth, trembling. He feels sick, not because he didn’t like it, but because he did. Does.

“You-I—” he tries to explain himself, but she tuts and walks forward with a small smile on her face, patting him on the head like one would a dog.

“It’s alright, I understand. For a mortal, he is attractive.” She fiddles with Tang’s hair.

Pigsy wants to throw up. He wants to scream. He wants to throttle her, but he can’t hurt Tang.

He might have already.

How much does Tang see, does Tang feel? Did he see this, feel this? Did he watch Pigsy use him, like the monster he is, because Pigsy is selfish? The thoughts spiral deeper and deeper into something self destructive and Pigsy bites on his thumb hard enough to make it bleed.

“If it’s any consolation, he loves you too,” she says, and Pigsy freezes. “Do you think he never noticed how your hand would twitch toward his? You’re terribly obvious, but he’s a coward as well.”

Pigsy feels his breathing pick up.

Tang, he, he love-loved? Past tense, did Pigsy ruin it? Did he break something he never even had? Might not ever have, now?

A hand trails across his back and Pigsy shudders.

“No need to worry.” She leans in close, until Pigsy can feel her cool breath against his ear. “If you’re good, I think I can make this happen again.”

And then she walks away, leaving him in the wreckage. Pigsy breathes, clenches and unclenches his fists, fighting back the urge to cry because he doesn’t have the energy for more tears. He moves to leave, when—

“It seems you do have a bit of control left,” he hears, right before she’s out of earshot.

Everything goes cold.

What does that mean? Was the kiss...was that Tang? Or was it-what does that mean?

The more he thinks about it, the more his head goes through loops. Tang is in there. Tang has control-some, a bit, no specifics. Pigsy isn’t a thinker, he doesn’t know how possession works. Maybe-maybe Pigsy isn’t as terrible as he thinks he is. Maybe that means, maybe, it wasn’t all a lie?

His walk home takes ten minutes longer than it should. He keeps bringing up his fingers to his mouth, tracing the spaces where Tang’s lips slotted into, like a perfect puzzle. Every part of him she touched tingles like static, and Pigsy can’t think, can’t find a single thought. If it wasn’t Tang, if it was just her...

He doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that he doesn’t want this. Not like this.

He doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that deep down, he does. Regardless.

What kind of monster does that make him?

Is it worse than the one he already is?

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Tang is quiet when she kisses Pigsy. He doesn’t feel anything, touch long lost to his senses, floating in empty space. Some days, he doesn’t know where he ends and she begins but he knows that he has no weight to himself, not anymore.

He’s quiet, an ache in his chest growing ever painful as Pigsy gives in, and he wonders if it would have been like this if it were him. Something in the heat of the moment, passionate, real.

He wonders and grieves a life he isn’t having. She uses his mouth and whispers sickly sweet nothings and turns Pigsy around so that Tang isn’t sure that Pigsy knows what’s up and what’s down. She walks away and leaves Pigsy to try and collect himself, and all Tang wants to do is say sorry.

For what, he isn’t sure. This isn’t his doing. But that was him all the same.

Tang bows his head and sniffles. He watches her wipe his eyes.

“It seems you do have a bit of control left,” she says, staring down at the tears in his palm. She flicks the water away. “Get over yourself. If you wanted this, you should have made it happen. You had plenty of time.”

And the worst part, Tang thinks, is that with the years he’s known Pigsy, he knows she’s right.

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Pigsy tries to keep some semblance of normalcy after that, though it’s hard. He can feel Tang’s eyes on him, gaze lingering as Pigsy moves, day after day. He tries to keep his cheeks from flushing, tries from reacting at all, when Tang looks his way. He forces himself to remember that the kiss wasn’t right, wasn’t Tang.

But at the same time he can’t forget what he heard. What it could mean. Pigsy has mired himself in despair so deeply that the scrap of hope he feels is enough to keep him teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something selfish.

There’s a change in the air between them, he knows. MK and Mei notice too, as much as he tries to keep this from them, keep them safe. He doesn’t want them trapped, like he is. He couldn’t handle it if they were.

“You guys have been acting weird.” Mei hops up to the counter as she speaks, glancing between Tang and Pigsy with squinted eyes.

“Oh?” Tang asks, leaning his head on his hand.

Not Tang.

“Yeah, you guys have been real clingy,” MK slings an arm around Mei’s shoulders, rubbing his chin with his hand.

Mei brightens.

“You guys have finally gotten together, haven’t you!” She points an accusatory finger at the both of them.

Pigsy freezes. Flushes from his feet all the way up to the tips of his ears, and Tang laughs, a soft, sweet, bell of a laugh.

“Were we that obvious?” Tang chuckles into his sleeve.

Mei bounces in her seat, and MK looks away, a little flustered himself at the idea.

“Uh, totally! We, uh, we both saw this coming. Yeah.” Pigsy would laugh at MK’s poor attempt at a lie if he wasn’t frozen in place, stuck between horror and something else he can’t acknowledge.

Some part of him wants to pretend this is real. Some part of him, growing with every passing second, wants to play along until he forgets it’s a game. Because he’s been fed emptiness and sadness and helplessness and, suddenly, there’s this hope—maybe false, maybe real, dangling in front of him.

There’s something good, and something kind, and something Pigsy needs. Something so cold it becomes warm and Pigsy would like to be warm.

“How’d it happen! I want details!” Mei leans forward, face a few inches away from Tang’s, and Pigsy fights the urge to pull her away from him. He doesn’t know if it’s because he wants to keep her safe or him.

Tang goes into a story, dipping into the tone he would with Monkey King tales, and Pigsy feels the edges of static crawling up his neck, a high pitched tone drowning out the noise of conversation as he tries to make sense of the situation he’s in.

How did he even get to this point? He traces back memory after memory, but nothing makes sense. The pieces don’t fall into place, even as he finds each and every one to try and put it all together. It’s like someone has sanded the edges down, or covered them in ice, so they slip and scrape against each other. Pigsy stands still, and slowly swivels his head to glance at his family, Mei and MK and Tang, all situated at his counter, like they’ve always belonged.

He keeps reminding himself that it isn’t Tang, not really. But is it so terrible to pretend? When he’s already worse than he’s ever been?

“It was really special. Right, Pigsy?” Tang turns to him with an expectant grin, and Pigsy flushes again, a color Tang once told him was a dusty rose.

He doesn’t snap. He bends, because when you bend, the cracks are slow to break. And Pigsy has always taken things slow, hasn’t he?

“Right.” He steps forward, his hand beneath Tang’s chin. Tang has always been the most handsome person Pigsy has ever seen, and how could that change, even with blue rims?

Tang’s lips brush against the side of his face, for the effect of MK and Mei’s groans, and Pigsy smiles.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tang trusts Pigsy with his life

That goes without saying. As he forgets what it feels like to move his fingers, as he forgets what taste is, he knows above all else that he can trust Pigsy with his life.

After all, Pigsy is why he’s alive at all. Anyone else would have buckled under the pressure by now, being the slave of the Baigujing. Anyone else would have made a mistake that would have left Tang a bleeding corpse on the ground.

Pigsy shoulders on, regardless of everything, because he values Tang’s life above all else. Tang knows this. That’s why he trusts Pigsy.

But things are changing, just a little. Pigsy’s desperation for something real, for Tang as he’s meant to be, is dying. Somehow, she’s bewitched the love of his life into something that is becoming unrecognizable. And Tang, though he is losing the memory of touch, of taste, of movement, finds this somehow more terrifying, more horrifying.

To see Pigsy vanish, just as Tang did, with no one making him disappear but himself.

Pigsy leans into her false touches. He melts into the kisses she forces upon him. His resistance falls slow and Tang can do nothing but watch and wonder quietly, as numbness threatens to swallow him whole.

He trusts Pigsy with his life.

But he doesn’t know which life Pigsy is trying to save.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It keeps happening.

At night, when he gets moments of clarity, when he remembers how awful everything is, Tang will be there with honeyed words and precious touches to sweep Pigsy off of his feet and forget. Pigsy will be horrified by the sight of death in one moment and locked in an embrace in the next, kissed with a passion he can’t help but return.

“You’re so strong,” Tang will say, with reverence to his tone. “It’s incredible.”

Not Tang.

Pigsy will fight against the pride that comes from the compliment, then fail every time to stifle it. Because he is strong, incredibly so, and he is powerful, and he can swipe through any demon with ease.

Nevermind the brothers, crying out for each other when he’d separated them, the way one had gone pale and quiet when the other went still, because they were a pair made one. You can’t kill a pair at the same time, unfortunately.

Pigsy knows he should feel guilty, should fight more. Knows that this isn’t right, it isn’t real. It’s so easy to forget, though, so easy to cling to something good when everything else hurts.

It’s so easy to set aside the memories of how wrong it all is. So easy to hide it all away, focus on the elation, the kind smiles, the gentle touches. Tang washes blood off of Pigsy’s hands when they get home—it’s their home, how could he forget—and curls up with Pigsy in the night, holding him close, and Pigsy clings, because he needs this. Needs something that makes him feel like things are okay.

The thoughts reminding him that this isn’t Tang start to slip through Pigsy’s fingers. He finds himself relaxing around the shop, smiling when he sees Tang at his seat, squeezing back when Tang interlocks their fingers.

Why fight it? Sometimes it hurts, and god does it, but there’s something so lovely about it now, everything he ever wanted with a price he’s fine paying.

When you take a pig out of its domestic environment, it easily turns wild. Hair, tusks, a penchant for violence. And Pigsy hasn’t been out of his domestic environment in years, but he’s a pig, in the end, lost in the wilderness of an icy forest and blue eyes.

“Hey, Pigsy?” MK’s voice comes from behind him.

Pigsy turns from his work to see his boy at the counter, wiping it down as he waits for orders to come in.

“What?” He glances between the pot and MK, deciding the pot will be fine for a few seconds.

“Are you doing okay? You, uh, you’ve been kind of quiet,” MK rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly.

Pigsy opens his mouth and closes it. He glances to the empty seat. Tang’s empty seat.

He doesn’t actually know where Tang has gone, but it’s so rare for it to happen. Pigsy tries to remember the last time Tang wasn’t in his spot during the day, but tracing memories that far back is like poking at the wreckage of a shattered pot; you’re bound to draw blood.

The tiny vestiges of resistance crawl from ash and leave burning fingerprints on the forefront of his mind.

Tell him, he hears himself think. Tell him! This is your chance!

But the truth is so, so painful, and Pigsy doesn’t have it in himself to shatter this equilibrium. Isn’t it so much kinder to let it settle beneath the surface, to hide the pain and make it so no one knows at all? He doesn’t want MK to look at him with horror and disgust. He doesn’t want to have to try to fix something that might be broken beyond repair.

This is nice. This is okay. He’s happy like this. Why ruin it?

He reaches over and ruffles MK’s hair. MK playfully smacks his hands away, and Pigsy chuckles.

“It’s my job to worry about you, kid,” he tells him. “I’m fine. Orders will be out in a minute.”

He waves MK off, and goes back to cooking.

Tang appears a minute later, in his seat.

“Hey,” Pigsy hears, and he turns, leaning on the little divider between the kitchen and the dining area.

“Hey, yourself,” he replies, and Tang smiles and kisses him soundly. Pigsy’s brain short circuits.

“What was that for?” He asks, something like incredulous elation in his voice as he laughs.

Tang’s face screams victory. Pigsy wonders what he’s won.

“Oh, I just felt like it.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He supposes he has his answer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s finishing up another job at the end of the month when Tang claps his hands together.

“Well, I think that’s it,” he says and Pigsy freezes, realizing what may come. “I don’t really have any other errands to run, and you’ve done your end of the bargain. I’ll be out by morning.”

No, Tang can’t go, he can’t. If Tang leaves, then what will Pigsy be? He needs this. Tang, Tang’s good for him.

He whirls around, and a hand reaches over to rest on Tang’s shoulder. Tang. Tang is good.

“I-wait-but,” Pigsy finds it so hard to articulate his thoughts nowadays.

He’s always been the muscle, Tang is the smart one. Pigsy is good at doing, not talking. He shouldn’t speak when everything comes out scrambled anyway.

“Use your words, now, dear,” Tang says, and Pigsy melts, like he always does. How can he not, when Tang is looking at him like that? Like Pigsy is his?

“I want to-you can stay-can you? I need you to stay. Please?”

Because Tang makes Pigsy feel whole, makes Pigsy feel loved. He can do whatever Tang wants him to do, whatever Tang needs, Pigsy will make it happen.

Tang’s fingers trail down Pigsy’s face. Pigsy leans into the touch, even though Tang’s fingers are cold. Tang feels cold, but that’s okay. Pigsy doesn’t mind.

“Oh, Pigsy,” and it’s Tang. Pigsy searches for understanding, as a thumb brushes away his fears, soft. Tang leans down until their eyes are level. Pigsy finds familiarity in them, like he’s known them for an eternity.

His favorite color is the color of Tang’s eyes, blue with a hint of white, hard and cold.

“All you had to do is ask,” Tang leans forward, and his lips brush against Pigsy’s, and Pigsy leans in.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When ice touches the ocean, there is no crash. The ocean fights back against the shift in form at first, but eventually is quieted by the power ice wields. The ice smothers, the ice settles on top as a slate, and the sea goes still, everything hidden beneath, never to reach the surface.

Tang watches, from the prison in his mind, and the cuffs on his wrists are so much tighter. He can't feel where the cuffs end and his arms begin. He can’t feel his hands. He can’t feel anything. All he has left is his vision, which is more a cruelty than a blessing.

When ice meets the earth it fills in the crevices left by time and expands, cracking stones apart and leaving it crumbling in its wake.

Tang curls in on himself as she shows him a kiss he never got to give, as Pigsy leans in with no hesitation, lost in something Tang can’t save him from. He curls away from the sight and tries to pretend that things can get better, that they can be saved, but he doesn’t know. Not when it hurts this much. Not when he’s lost this much.

Something like betrayal rests bitterly in his stomach. Pigsy left him. For an imitation, Pigsy left him, and Tang knows there’s more there, knows there has to be, has seen it unravel, but it doesn’t change the fact.

Pigsy made his choice, and Tang is the one suffering the consequences.

Tang crumbles quietly. He doesn’t even know, here, if he has eyes to cry from. It feels like he’s crying.

It feels like he’s screaming. No one hears. Even him.

If the water is still, it does not crash against the earth. There is no tide, and the earth remains unchanging. Except, even without the waves, time erodes it all.

Tang has nothing but himself and time.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #monkie kid tang #monkie kid pigsy #freenoodleshipping #dark freenoodleshipping #kitkat1003 #this iis fucked

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hrtiu · 4 years ago

Text

Chaotic Good

“This for the 501st,” Hardcase said, solemn for once in his brief existence. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Hardcase! No!” Fives yelled.

Hardcase pulled his ship’s detached missile pod towards a maintenance shaft to the side of the ray shield, turning around for one last look before crossing the point of no return.

“You’ve disobeyed enough orders today, sir. Follow this one, get out of here!” he said, waving Jesse and Fives away.

He dragged the missile pod to the other side of the ray shield, running as fast as the awkwardly-sized pod would allow. He threw the floating pod into the energy core, and the pod made its way with sluggish but unstoppable force towards the highly-flammable containers. Job done, Hardcase turned around to his no-longer visible brothers.

“Live to fight another day, boys,” he said. “Live to fight another day.”

The world exploded in an angry ball of fire and heat around him .

---

Hardcase opened his eyes and immediately knew he wasn’t dead. He knew this because, though he wasn’t sure what the afterlife might bring, he was pretty sure it didn’t involve being pinned beneath a durasteel beam in the wreckage of a Separist supply ship.

He pushed vainly against the massive beam, his well-toned arms useless in the face of its weight, then collapsed backwards, letting his eyes rest.

An ominous groan emanated from somewhere above and Hardcase’s eyes flew open, looking up just in time to see the support strut ten meters over his head give way with a massive crack. It was just Hardcase’s luck to miraculously survive a spaceship crash only to die ten seconds later. He shouted uselessly, raising his hands in front of his face as if that would do anything. And then-

And then...nothing. Nothing happened.

That’s strange. Maybe this is the afterlife, Hardcase thought. He cautiously opened his eyes, and the support strut was only a meter from his face, floating in the thick Umbaran air.

Eyes widening, Hardcase looked at his hands, still outstretched towards the beam. Slowly, carefully, he moved his arms to the side. The beam floated off to Hardcase’s right, following his arms like an omnibox player might a bandleader. Once it was well clear of him, he let his arms drop. The strut immediately fell to the ground with a thunderous crash.

Huh, Hardcase thought. That’s new.

AO3 link.

---

Getting out of the crashed ship was significantly easier after Hardcase discovered he could move objects with his mind. ...Or his hands? Or his soul? Honestly, the mechanics of it weren’t very clear to him, but the point was he could suddenly lift the durasteel flotsam and jetsam blocking his way.

Hardcase hopped down from the busted-out wall of the Separatist ship, his boots crunching on the rocky earth below him. He could hardly see anything, but at least he could breathe. The Separatist ship had been so eerily empty and quiet, a graveyard that had never housed living beings even before its catastrophic crash.

The misty darkness swirled around him, with only a few distant bioluminescent plants visible in the distance. Hardcase had absolutely no idea where he was.

Luck had been on his side when he’d found his helmet lying in a pile of scrap metal not too far from his initial landing site, but luck had its limits. Hardcase shoved the helmet on his head, testing the comms once again just in case something about the innards of the melted ship had interfered with his signal, but still no luck. He was on his own.

He picked a direction at random and started walking, careful not to step on any carnivorous plants. As he made his way through the endless haze, every so often he would take a turn in a different direction. He couldn’t articulate any particular reason for it, but it felt right, and Hardcase had always trusted his gut.

As he walked he practiced pushing and pulling things. He knew that Jedi had other powers besides just that, but it wasn’t really clear to him what they were. He did know he was Jedi, though. Only the Jedi could manipulate the Force, and Hardcase knew that was what he was doing. There was no other explanation.

The exploration of his newfound abilities absorbed nearly all of Hardcase’s attention, and he found himself losing track of time. It was fascinating, figuring out how to push versus pull, how to adjust the power behind his movements, and what his maximum range was. He couldn’t say exactly what he was doing was. He just sort of thought, and it happened. Or maybe willed was more accurate? He didn’t know, but after hours of undivided attention, he felt like he was getting the hang of it. His laser-focused attention span helped with that. Hardcase couldn’t always control what caught his attention, but once it was caught it stayed caught.

The distant boom of mortar fire jolted Hardcase from his near-trance, and he looked up. A tall, inorganic cliff of duracrete became visible through the fog. It was the airbase. Hardcase had no idea if he’d been walking hours or days, but he was relieved to see the base he hoped the GAR still held.

“Thank the Force I landed so close to the boys,” Hardcase said to no one in particular.

He started off in the direction of the airbase, watching for enemy combatants as he scrambled across a narrow outcrop towards the shining beacon of the airbase. Then, he stopped. His feet were pulling him in a different direction. Or maybe not his feet? Maybe his stomach. Regardless, something wouldn’t let him keep going along the outcrop, so he followed his instincts and climbed down the ridge, heading towards a narrow gorge off to the side.

The gorge opened up onto a clearing of sorts, and Hardcase instantly recognized the innocent-looking pods dotting the landscape. It was those creatures—those many-toothed plants that too many unwitting clones had stumbled onto to their doom.

He turned around to find another way, but the tugging at his feet became more insistent. This way, that something urged him. This way.

Narrowing his eyes, Hardcase turned back around and took a cautious step towards the field of man-eating plants, his arms held up daintily as if letting them swing might alert the creatures to his presence. He took another step. Then another. Then another. Soon, he was only a few meters away from the first creature. The mysterious urging stopped.

“Well…” Hardcase whispered into the ether. “I’m here. Now what?”

The pod closest to him burst open, its long tentacles flailing wildly and its sharp-toothed mouth opening and snapping shut. Hardcase dove away, rolling across the dusty earth to create as much distance between him and the murderous plant as possible. A tentacle grabbed onto his leg, but he reached out with the Force and threw the tentacle off of him. He scrambled further away, heart racing and head pounding with adrenaline, and then he was out of reach.

The tentacles reached blindly towards him in the dark, but they couldn’t quite close the distance. Hardcase caught his breath, pulling in huge gasps of breath for his greedy lungs.

“What,” he said through gasps of air, “the kriff am I doing here?”

The plant only flailed in response, and Hardcase threw it a rude gesture for good measure. Then the plant’s tentacle retracted and it let out a hearty belch, throwing something small and shiny from its mouth before pulling back into its pod. The unidentified object sailed through the air, then landed at Hardcase’s feet.

Leaning forward on his knees, Hardcase picked it up. It was a lightsaber—or rather half of one. It looked like one of those double-sided lighsabers, but it had been ripped in half. Hardcase was pretty sure it was General Krell’s lightsaber. Hardcase looked around him, only now noticing the singes of blaster fire and the chipped bits of plastoid—telltale signs of a fight.

“What happened here…” he said, eyes falling back to the lightsaber.

One end of the hilt ended in a mess of exposed wires and torn metal, but something about the lightsaber felt right in his hand. With a sudden certainty, Hardcase knew it was the lightsaber that had called him here. He ignited the lightsaber and a blue beam of light extended from the hilt with a whoosh. It was beautiful. And it was right.

A slow smile crept up Hardcase’s face, he switched off the ‘saber and got to his feet, holding the it confidently off to the side. He turned his face back to the airbase, ready to go home.

---

“Hardcase! You’re alive!” Fives charged towards Hardcase, grinning like a fool.

“Yeah,” Hardcase said, barely managing to get the words out as Fives pulled him into a tight hug and squeezed the breath out of him. “I survived the crash landing.”

Jesse joined them, hot on Fives’ heals. “The Force is really on your side, brother. We thought we wouldn’t see you again.”

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” Hardcase said with a smirk. He extricated himself from Fives’ arms and unhooked his newfound lightsaber from his belt, igniting it and letting its blue glow wash over his speechless brothers’ faces.

Fives was the first to pick his jaw up off the ground. “Hardcase… Where did you…?”

“That’s not even the good part. Look!”

Hardcase held a hand out in front of him and lifted Fives off the ground. Nothing too drastic—only a meter or two.

“Well karking hell,” Jesse whispered.

Fives’ smirk turned into a beaming smile. “Tell me about it.”

---

A ring of low, opulent chairs circled Hardcase, boxing him in like a squad of clankers coming in on both flanks. General Yoda stared at him from his rounded, plush seat, his clawed fingers clicking as he drummed them against the top of his staff.

“Trooper Hardcase. What brings you before the Jedi Council today?” General Yoda said.

“Well, General, err, Master Yoda,” Hardcase quickly corrected. “I’d like to join the Jedi Order.”

Master Yoda’s eyebrows rose and another member—Ki-Adi-Mundi, Hardcase thought—choked.

“Join the Jedi Order, say you?” Master Yoda said.

“Well, yes. I am a Jedi, after all.”

“Hardcase,” Master Windu said, leaning forward across his knees. “You understand that a person must be Force sensitive to become a Jedi, correct?”

“Yeah. I got that part,” Hardcase said, reaching a hand out and floating his helmet from where he held it at his hip to the center of the room, then pulling it back to him.

They’d all heard his claims before he’d arrived, and still every member of the Council, without exception, wore those stupid faces of shock at the sight. Hardcase almost laughed. Who’d have imagined the all-powerful Jedi could be caught off guard like that?

“Even so,” Master Windu said, the first to regain his composure, “Jedi are trained from infancy to join the Order. It’s not something you can just wake up one day and decide you want to do.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Master Windu. The lightsaber thought I was enough of a Jedi to call to me.”

The clicking of Yoda’s fingers against his staff stopped. “Call to you, it did?”

Hardcase unclipped the lightsaber from his hip and ignited it, a smile rising to his lips as its familiar glow illuminated his face. “Yeah. It spoke to me.”

“What did it say?” Master Windu said.

“I mean, it wasn’t exactly talking. It was more of a feeling. Like, ‘Hey, you! Come over here! Pick me!’”

“Huh.” Master Windu said, and Hardcase couldn’t help but be tickled to see the unflappable Jedi stymied.

“Master Windu, untrained Hardcase may be, but some skill he already has. Afford to let this opportunity go, we cannot. Wills it, the Force does.”

The other Council members murmured amongst themselves, and Hardcase caught a few nods of assent.

“Well who’s going to train him, then?”

Master Yoda smiled. “Master Windu, a Padawan, you have not.”

Master Windu’s face fell, and he looked to Hardcase with a raised eyebrow.

“It’d be an honor, sir,” Hardcase said.

---

Hardcase followed Master Windu as he strode purposefully into Chancellor Palpatine’s office. Windu hadn’t invited Hardcase along as such, but Hardcase was his Padawan. What else was he supposed to do?

Masters Fisto, Kolar, and Tiin were there, too, each of them wearing their serious, “Jedi business” faces. And this was serious business. It wasn’t every day you went to arrest the Chancellor of the Republic for potentially being a Sith lord.

They entered the office and the Chancellor’s chair twirled around, revealing the Chancellor’s too-mild face and too-soft smile.

“Master Windu! I take it General Grievous has been destroyed, then. I must say you’re here sooner than expected.”

Master Windu drew his lightsaber. “In the name of the Galactic Senate, you are under arrest, Chancellor.”

Hardcase and the others drew their lightsabers as well, the blue and green light reflecting off of the Chancellor’s massive window.

“Are you threatening me, Master-?”

Hardcase lunged for Palpatine, stabbing him right through the gut. The Chancellor gasped, his eyes going wide in shock, but not pain. Hardcase imagined he couldn’t really feel anything at that point. He knew from experience the funny way shock could mask agony.

“Wh-what?” the malicious old man croaked, his hand fumbling at his waist.

“Hardcase! What have you done?” Windu said.

Palpatine grabbed a lightsaber hidden under his robes, igniting its red beam and stabbing weakly in Hardcase’s direction. Hardcase easily deflected the blow.

“Your reign is over, Sith,” he spat.

Palpatine looked up at Hardcase with hate in his eyes, the irises turning yellow as his strength failed. “A dirty clone thinks he can best me?”

Hardcase grabbed the Chancellor’s lightsaber by the hilt and tossed it away. He crouched down and got right in Palpatine’s face, looking him hard in the eye. “Oh, I think I just did, sir.”

Palpatine gasped out one final breath, then slumped to the ground. Master Windu rushed to his side, checking his neck for a pulse with two fingers.

“He’s dead,” he said, looking up at Hardcase with a furrowed brow. “Why did you do that? He was supposed to stand trial.”

Hardcase held his lightsaber up, the pulsing energy from the crystal hidden inside vibrating with reassurance. “He was going to kill us, Master. I could feel it.”

“We can’t just tell the Senate we killed the Chancellor on a hunch.”

Hardcase met his Master’s gaze, his jaw set with determination. “I’ll bear responsibility for my actions. But I knew I had to stop him. He had that feeling—the same one that Krell had. I think that’s why his lightsaber called to me. To make things right.”

Master Fisto walked to the far side of the room and picked up the Sith lightsaber. He ignited it and admired the sanguine blade with a morbid sort of fascination. “Well, he certainly was a Sith. That might make our case easier to make to the Senate.”

“Come,” Master Windu said, getting to his feet. “We need to inform the Council and the Senate.”

Hardcase followed after him without an ounce of doubt in his being. He knew he might be imprisoned or even executed for this, but it was right. Chancellor Palpatine had been playing the Republic and the Separatists against each other this entire time, and his brothers had paid the price. He would be proud to sacrifice himself to stop it. He closed his eyes. Live to fight another day.

---

In the end, Hardcase had Padme Amidala to thank for his freedom. He’s a clone, ordered and programmed to be unquestioningly loyal to the Jedi and the Republic, she’d argued. He deemed, correctly, that Chancellor Palpatine posed an existential threat to the Republic, and he acted per his training, she’d said. All the evidence collected after the fact of Palpatine’s double-dealing and manipulations hadn’t hurt, either. When the true depth of Palpatine’s machinations had been revealed, it had been clear that the man could weasel his way out of any situation if given half a minute to talk.

Senator Amidala’s compelling arguments had also forced the Senate to grapple with the questionable morals of the clones’ training and conscription, an outcome that made Hardcase even happier than his own acquittal. Things were moving much more slowly than he would like, but they were moving. One day, he wouldn’t be the only clone free to move about as he chose.

These thoughts buoyed Hardcase’s steps as he made his way into the Jedi Council chambers, his knees bouncing when he came to a halt in the ornate circle at the center of the room.

“Padawan Hardcase, proposed, it has been, that you be elevated to Knighthood in the Jedi Order,” Master Yoda said.

Master Windu got to his feet and ignited his purple lightsaber. “Kneel.”

Hardcase obediently bowed before Master Windu, closing his eyes and thinking of his brothers as he let the reality of his situation sink in.

“By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force. Hardcase. Rise, Jedi Knight.”

The whirr of Master Windu’s lightsabers sang across Hardcase’s ears, and his chest swelled with pride. Pride in himself, pride in the GAR, pride in his brothers. He got to his feet, head held high.

“Congratulations, Knight Hardcase.”

Hardcase beamed, shoving Master Windu affectionately in the arm. “Thank you! Er, thank you, Master.”

Master Windu rubbed his arm with that annoyed expression on his face, but he gave Hardcase a long-suffering smile.

“I’d like to go see my brothers to celebrate,” Hardcase said.

“Go,” Master Windu said, shooing him away. “Before you break anything.”

“Thank you, Master!”

He dashed off down the hall, so eager to rub his promotion in Jesse’s face that he missed the looks Master Yoda and Master Windu exchanged as he left.

---

“Wrong we were, I think,” Master Yoda said.

“About what? Unfortunately I’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately.”

“The Chosen One, Skywalker never was.”

Master Windu’s gaze followed his overeager apprentice as he clattered through the tranquil halls of the Jedi Temple. He thought of Ponds’ steady presence at his side for so many long campaigns. He thought of the courage in Ponds’ eyes in the face of death. He thought of the thousands of shiny troopers who’d marched into battle with only thoughts of the Republic and each other pushing them forward.

“I think you may be right. I think there may have been many.”

#hardcase #the clone wars #force-sensitive hardcase #force-sensitive clone #revisionist history #clones deserved better #tcw #star wars #fanfic #hardcase is the chosen one no i will not be taking questions

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johannstutt413 · 3 years ago

Text

(requested by mathmaticalknight) TOURNAMENT ARC

Nearl was in her room, tending to her equipment, when there was a knock on her door. “I wonder who that might be...Maria?”

“Sister!” Blemishine wrapped her arms around Margaret’s neck and pulled her in for a close and loud hug (armor plates). “It took me forever to find someone who knew the way to your place, but you’re actually here!”

“When did you get her, Maria? I thought you and Zofia were still working out the details.”

The other Nearl simply beamed at her. “She said she’d be here soon and that I could go ahead. It’s a good thing I did, too - there are posters all over saying you’re fighting someone today. Is that true?”

“I am, yes,” she confirmed. “The Doctor organized a tourney for Operators in all positions to prove themselves, if they so desire.”

“Are you gonna go easy on them, or is the Radiant Knight going to be fighting in a new venue?” The look on Maria’s face was a blend of concern and excitement - after all, it’s not every day she got to see her sister fight.

The older Nearl thought about it for a moment before going for another hug. “My opponent is my sparring partner, and I know she will be giving this fight her all. It would be a dishonor not to do the same.”

“Then I’ll be watching you from the stands.” She sighed. “Next time I see you, though, can we hug without all this metal in the way?”

“If you’d like, you can come to dinner with me.” Margaret hadn’t had the chance to ‘properly’ introduce her to her girlfriends, after all.

Blemishine nodded. “That sounds good to me...Alright, you need to finish preparing for your fight, so I’m going to find the Doctor. I heard there’s an Engineering Department here, and I want to go talk to them before the match. Good luck!”

“Thank you, Maria.” As the shining knight left, the Radiant Knight returned to her maintenance. “Tonight, however, luck will not be a factor.”

TOURNAMENT ARC: NEARL VS HOSHIGUMA (continuing...sort of from this [I keep forgetting which ships are already established in some of this multiverse soup going on; can’t make it a direct continuation because of the first fic in that two-part series, but Tourney!RI still has a horse triumvirate nonetheless. ANYWAY.])

——–

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, Operators, Staff, and Esteemed Guests! Welcome one and all to the Top Operator Tourney!!! *crowd cheers*

“Thanks, Hung! I love how consistent he is with that...Anyways, hi! You’re probably wondering why we’re here-”

“We should introduce ourselves first, Swire.”

“Good point, good point. Well, I’m Swire, aka Hoshi’s biggest fan, and here with me in the commentator’s booth is Meteor. You’re Nearl’s girlfriend, right?”

“That is why I’m here, yes. I appreciate the Doctor allowing us to do this, especially since you and I don’t talk very often. Do you have the statistics in front of you? My tablet and I are having a fight.”

“Yeah, I’ve got ‘em. *clears throat* So, looking at the numbers, my girl’s got the advantage when it comes to size, experience and stamina, but Nearl is faster, more tactical, AND she’s got some serious Arts at her disposal. Hoshi’s got an uphill battle ahead of her, I say.”

“It’s important to note that Margaret Nearl and Hoshiguma both are in the top three seeds for the Defender bracket - first and third respectively - which means regardless of the apparent discrepancy, both are incredibly skilled combatants. Accounting for the amount of time they spend dueling each other to keep their skills sharp, and I suspect this fight will be much closer than the numbers would imply.”

“I certainly hope so! No offense, but I do want Hoshi to win this - if Nearl loses, you’re still in the tourney, after all.”

“That is true...But we’ll simply have to agree to disagree.”

“Yeah. Well, let’s get to the action!...Also, why did you say her actual name rather than her codename?”

——–

Hoshiguma and Nearl walked into the coliseum, fully prepared for the fight ahead of them. The Oni took up a defensive stance, holding her shield just above the ground and planting her feet. “Well, Marge, today’s the day. Promise you’re not gonna hold back on me?”

“I swear by my honor as a knight: today, I will not stay my hand.” The Kuranta unsheathed her blade, already glowing beneath the bright lights above. “I entrust your life to the Medics of Rhodes Island. Ready?”

“It’s your time, not mine.”

A curious turn of phrase...With that, the fight was on.

Nearl’s first goal was knocking out that shield arm. Fixing amputations was something the Medics could do (at least, Aak and Warfarin could), but ideally she wouldn’t have to do that much damage. She charged forward, feinted going one direction but bounded the opposite way, and swung for her opponent’s arm, lighting up her blade as she did with a dazzling gleam-

-only for Hoshi to pull her arm towards her body, forcing the Knight to clip the shield instead and feel the sting of her opponent’s Thorns. “You’re taking this seriously. Good.”

“Of course I am.” The Kuranta had lost all her forward momentum thanks to the deflection, but that didn’t stop her from spinning around; her next attack was an attempt to knock the Oni’s shield out of the way with her own before landing a sword stroke, once again lighting it up before the attack would land. “Hyah!”

“Good try.” Rather than block the swing, Hoshiguma punched Nearl’s sword arm, taking the blade to her forearm but nevertheless crippling her opponent in the process. The counterattack sent the disarmed warrior backward and left Lungmen’s strongest with a choice: charge forward, get Hannya spinning, and go on the warpath? Stand her ground and do the same?

The Kuranta got to experience the answer firsthand as her opponent began to simultaneously spin her shield and run forward. ‘I can’t let her hit me with that attack, whatever it takes...’ Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough time to get to her feet and get out of the way. There was only one option she could see...

——–

“Alright, she’s getting to her feet; she’s not done yet, but damn Hoshi’s spinning Hannya as fast as she can.”

“Margaret, what are you doing?! Get out of the way!”

“She’s holding her shield up with both hands- wait, that light-”

“Glasses on!” *flash* “...No!”

“There’s no way she’s getting up after that...Aak and Warfarin are making their way out. Hoshi’s tossed Hannya to the side and seems to be trying to help.”

“She’s done enough.”

“Meteor, you’ve seen some of the other fights-”

“They didn’t have my Marg’ret in them...We’re done here, right?”

“Yeah, that’s all she wrote. Everyone at home, have a good night, and we should have FEater and Click back up here next time. Thanks for tuning in!...I’m gonna make sure my co-host doesn’t do something she regrets.”

——–

By the time Meteor had made it to Medical, there was a small group in the waiting room. Platinum and Blemishine were talking cordially, Swire was talking to Ptilopsis at the desk, and Hoshiguma...Hoshiguma was there, in a chair, as stoic as she’d ever seen her.

That stoicism didn’t change when the huntress walked over to her and slapped her across the face.

“Miss Meteor,” Ptilopsis observed from her post; Swire had already turned around after hearing the sound, “violence is not tolerated in the waiting room.”

“It’s alright, Tilly. I deserved it.” The Oni cracked her neck as she looked up at her attacker.

The Kuranta sat down next to her. “At least you agree.”

“I didn’t expect her to try and block me like that,” she continued with a sigh. “The flash actually made it worse for her.”

“Why did she do that? It makes no sense.”

At this point the other two Kuranta in the room walked over; Platinum immediately sat in Meteor’s lap for a chair-hug. “We got here before she did, and they rolled her past us...” There was now a silver-haired puddle in the Sniper’s lap.

“Are all the fights in this tourney like this?” Maria shuddered. “The sport is the same everywhere, I guess.”

“Well, the good news is, Nearl’s Arts were enough to stabilize herself,” Swire reported, joining the group and sitting on the opposite side of Hoshiguma, who immediately set her head on her shoulder.

The huntress, stroking her assassin-girlfriend’s hair, nodded. “Thank you, Swire. I’m sorry we’re meeting like this, Maria.”

“We’ll have a second chance at it when my sister’s back on her-” At that moment, there was the distinctive sound of armor jangling from down the hall. “Eh? One second.”

“It hasn’t been five minutes,” Hoshi muttered as everyone, including herself, stood up.

Sure enough, Blemishine walked around the corner with Nearl’s arm around her shoulder, gear beaten to shit but otherwise okay. “I’m taking her back to her room for a change of clothes, but she and the doctors both said she’s good.”

“Maggie!” Platinum practically became her jacket with that hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright! Even Hoshiguma was worried.”

“I’m not surprised. My training partner proved herself the better fighter today.” The smile the Radiant Knight sent the Oni’s way literally made her take a step back.

Meteor continued the original thread. “You’re feeling alright, though? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“The soreness will remain for a few days, but no lasting damage, certainly.” She looked down at her armor. “Not to my body, at least. Maria, could you help me fix this later this week?”

“Of course I will!” Her sister already had some thoughts on how to stop something like the Spinning Shield of Death from doing so much damage again.

The Feline in the room, glad to hear the all-clear straight from the horse’s mouth, nudged her girlfriend. “Go on, I know you want to say something.”

“I’ll talk to her later.” The Oni picked up her girlfriend. “Let’s go home.”

“Hoshi?” Nearl called out to her, and she froze.

The moneycat in her arms answered for her. “Yes, Nearl? Margaret, more specifically?”

“Either is fine.” Another warm smile. “That was a good fight. Good luck in the rest of the tournament.”

“...Thank you, Maggie. Goodnight, everyone.”

New destination: the bar.

#arknights #arknights fic #TOURNAMENT ARC!!!#nearl (arknights)#hoshiguma (arknights)#swire (arknights)#meteor (arknights)#blemishine (arknights)#platinum (arknights)#i understand why comics do reboots every now and again :D #also dunno why this took the turn it did #glad Nearl's alright tho

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bubbletimestories · 4 years ago

Note

could you do a sebastian fic where sebby is dating his s/o only to get information out of them but they know he's manipulating them ? and then at one point he starts developing feelings for them but they were planning on breaking up with him :(

So....do you know the story of the girl who wanted to answer a quick prompt but finished with 5 pages ? 😅

I hope you’ll like it (I tried to write as gender neutral as possible) and thank you for the request, it’s highly appreciated 💞 💞

The lies on your lips

The sun illuminates the white facades of the mansion and gives the flowers in the gardens hues almost too rich for a painter's brush. The end of summer is still mild and the atmosphere is charged with the sweet scents of cupcakes and lemonade that we love to enjoy in the shade. However, not everyone takes advantage of summer idleness to relax under a tree while reading a novel. Two figures move by whirling in the courtyard, raising with each step a small cloud of dust which whitens their legs. Of the two duettists, only one is out of breath and, as usual, it's you. Your legs are stiff with fatigue, your chest heaves far too quickly but your hand does not shake, you refuse to give up. A few steps away, your fencing master does not even seem to be sweating and is patiently waiting for you to catch your breath, as he always does. His amused gaze could be infuriating if you didn't also perceive a touch of lust in it, as if the shock of your blades were only a preliminary before a more intimate and sensual melee.

“Your movement is good, Milord/Milady, but you are still resting too much on your left side. A Lisbon boot would disarm you in no time."

Comfortably installed in an armchair stretched with white and blue fabric, your mother observes you from a distance, waving her fan of feathers. She absolutely does not believe that her child, with such an unathletic physique, can do much with a foil, but she readily acknowledges your progress since the arrival of the new teacher. If your father weren't on a trip to the wilderness of Scotland (a grim business of murder, alas, mixed up with occult), he'd probably be very surprised to see you so quick and determined.

With a discreet movement of the wrist, your teacher invites you to take a break but you don't want to, you want to draw on your last strength to carry a few more assaults before your limbs become soft like those of a puppet. Without reaching, you put yourself back on guard and attack with even greater vigor and speed, hoping deep down that you could pull even a grimace from the man in black. Your blades clash with a loud bang, you continue to waltz, gauging each other like two predators until at last you see a rift in your opponent's guard. Exhausted and excited, you rush into it and realize too late that this is a trap. The next moment you are lying on the ground, your foil a few feet from your hand.

"Looks like you've lost again but your last streak, albeit a bit rushed, almost cost me the win. Hope you didn't hurt yourself while falling. "

Gloved hands glide over your limbs to make sure you've got nothing, and you suppress a delicious thrill as you cross the eyes of an exquisite red. As expected since he won, you will have to resist the urge to scream while he satisfies you tonight, while his hands will hold your delicate wrists, his mouth will give you a thousand tortures without you being able to let your passion escape. One day it’s him who will lose his head, his body sweaty and your name on his lips. The delicious flavor of the forbidden only makes this relationship all the more incredible, those moments stolen from the time when the owl howls, just a few steps from the mother's bedroom. You get up with his help, dusting your dust-covered outfit while your mother congratulates the fencing master.

- Well done, Mr Michaelis, you really are an outstanding fencer.

- It’s too much honor, Milady, I’m just one hell of a teacher.

Sebastian bowed respectfully, always so modest under all circumstances, so detached. His calm sometimes makes you think of a snake, a magnificent black viper that ripples in the grass, but that would be forgetting the burning heat of his body against yours, his kisses sometimes tender sometimes disarming at the most incongruous moments. Breathing still choppy, you take time off to go to your room and clean yourself up properly, removing the thick gray layer that covers your limbs, stuck with sweat. The bath prepared by the maid does you a lot of good and you let her clean your hair and nails, anxious to appear to your advantage. Then you ask to be left alone to get dressed, pacing the room, naked. Every corner of the room seems to you to be inhabited by the presence of the fencing master, in one place he devoured your lips, in another he healed your swollen ankle although it was not his role. You who had always refused the suitors around you, it didn't take long for you to succumb to the charm of the man in black, his soft voice, his elegance. Your affair has lasted for several weeks and no one suspects anything thanks to the young man's discretion. Your fingers stroke the glove you managed to steal from him after a night of love, you bring it to your lips, feel the grain of the fabric against your mouth. Then your smile subsides.

Liar

Such a perfect being, so mysterious, could not but arouse your curiosity but also your suspicions. When you have a father who investigates the cults of Britain, you learn to beware of what sounds too good to be true. And then there's this young boy you sometimes see, puny, a long lock in front of his eye. His almost ghostly allure has stuck on your retina and if you don't know exactly what to think, one thing is certain in your mind: Sebastian is lying to you, he is manipulating you like a vulgar doll. Deep down, it doesn't shock you, he wouldn't be the first to want to make an obedient toy out of you, but it's the first time you've let someone pull your strings. In the mirror, you meet a frozen gaze, filled with anger even if you don't really know which of him or of you deserves your hatred the most. Your hands angrily take the clothes on the bed, the satin slides over your flesh like an icy wave, so different from the softness of gloved hands. No need to lie to yourself, you realized a long time ago that Mr. Michaelis had wrapped his chains all around you, not just around your body but also around your heart. You want him, you love him and you hate him. However, you are aware that crying scandal would be pointless. The beautiful man is too meticulous, too well-liked to arouse any suspicion. And then, in this affair, who has the most to lose? That’s why you keep quiet, you don’t intend to chase him away or prevent him from carrying out his plans. No doubt he will achieve his ends and disappear without leaving a trace. But that doesn't mean you have to remain his puppet. Tonight you will end your relationship.

***

The moon is high in the sky as you leave the mansion to enter the gardens under the pretext of wanting to enjoy the starry night. The knots of your outfit flutter gently in the light breeze and you walk between the thickets to get away from the lights, the music, the rest of the world. No need to watch for a rustle, crackle or noise, you know Sebastian will arrive as quietly as a feather in the wind, as if he were emerging from the darkness. With a few glances, a purely aristocratic authoritarian chin movement which he adores, you have made a date with your lover in the secret gardens. Strangely, you don't feel any pain at the thought of breaking your bond, only a great void and a certain weariness. He gave you what you didn't think you wanted: the feeling of being desirable and lovable, and for that you are grateful to him. But it has to stop and quickly, before it gets too hard.

"Did I tell you how much that color highlights your mouth, Y/N? Tonight you looked like you could devour the world with just one bite, with the movement of your lips."

In the half-light, his pupils shine with a glow more reminiscent of amethyst than ruby, you have learned to recognize this change as a sign of interest, when his excitement is strong. Unless it's just a comedy, a subtle acting game. This is not the first time he compliments your mouth rather than your eyes like everyone else does, he says he loves the way you talk, curl your lips, consume like a voracious and greedy animal. Behind the delicate and elegant facade, he alone knows your insatiable appetites, the violence of your desires. You smile before picking up one of the swords you took care to take tonight. The bare blade captures the moon's rays and makes it shine with a silvery sheen.

“We're going to play a game, Mr. Michaelis. We will face each other now, in the stillness of the night, until one of us bleeds. During this time, you will have to answer my questions honestly, without lying."

Your vibrant voice informs the young man about your intentions, it is not a parade of seduction but a declaration of war. Regardless, both situations will bring him equal pleasure and he stares at you with a smirk, picking up the other sword without taking his eyes off you.

- This is a dangerous game, my love, what will I gain from it?

- You never refused a good fight seems to me.

To support your point, you raise your sword with an innocent smile, knowing in advance that the pleasure of the game will outweigh anything else in the fencing master. You see it in the crease of his mouth, in the movement of his eyebrow, you've caught his attention. With feline grace, Sebastian begins to circle around the yard as before, shedding his jacket and exposing his thin muscles under the snowy fabric of his shirt. He can feel all the anger pulsing through your veins, you must have discovered something incriminating him, but that's okay. His mission is coming to an end and he will soon have to return to his little master, even if the prospect does not enchant him too much. He loves your company, your light shoulder movement when you concentrate, the tension in your muscles when you hold back from sighing, the twinkle of your eyes revealing the fire that burns under the fine varnish of appearances.

- Let's start with something easy: is Sebastian Michaelis your real name?

- That’s the name I have agreed to bear on this earth.

Your blades cross, you study each other with your eyes as you vainly search his face for signs of deception. You have never detected one before, you will not pierce his mask tonight. Fighting in your evening clothes is much more complex than in your fencing ones, the fabric stretches and hinders you in your movements but it only reinforces your rage. And then you have this strange thought that wounds will look better on pretty fabric than on dull cotton. As for Sebastian, he ditched the black of his suit tonight to let blood show with every scratch.

- Did you come here to spy or to gather information ?

- Yes.

His answer is simple, spoken in a clear voice without any emotion, shame, regret or even mockery. Would you have liked him to be more cruel? At least that confirms your suspicions even though you now feel a thousand questions on your tongue ready to pop out. You have to stay focused, parrying an attack to respond better. You feel stronger, faster than ever before, it's an exhilarating feeling but one that you can't appreciate because what's at stake in this fight is your heart.

- Did you seduce me on purpose?

- Yes.

Once again, he responds calmly as if you asked him if the weather would be nice tomorrow. The detachment with which he says "yes", while continuing to parry your attacks effortlessly ... it's almost painful. Sebastian executes a movement as fast as an arrow, his sword biting the fabric of your sleeve but not cutting into your skin. You're sure he did it on purpose, he doesn't want the game to end and you know full well he's too good to be hurt. His speed and agility are almost… inhuman. In a flash, you think back to the ghost you saw, to certain stories circulating about the queen's hound ...

- Would you have kill me on the orders of your master?

- Yes.

The attacks are faster, you waltz at a frantic pace, moving forward, backward, constantly avoiding to better face each other again and you feel the anger rising more and more at the risk of blind you and getting lost your concentration. Still, the young man does not seem to be trying to take advantage of it, just pushing your boots aside without trying anything further. On the contrary, he slows down the movement gradually, detailing your rapid breathing, the sweat that pearls on your forehead, the red of your cheeks. You are exhausted and even if you are enduring, you maintain an aristocratic health, you have to be careful. That's why he lets himself be disarmed, your sword under his chin while looking at you intently without even trying to wipe the thin scarlet line that crosses his cheekbone, signaling the end of the fight.

"Do I have the right to add one last truth before we go our separate ways? "

You should say no, you would like to refuse, tell him to disappear from your sight, that you never want to hear his voice again, his sweet but empty words, his exquisite and bewitching lies. But you nod your head without lowering your blade, in anticipation. Perhaps he will explain more precisely why he used you. After all, he's only telling the truth tonight, cruel as it is. Sebastian plunges his shifting eyes deep inside yours, running his tongue over his lips before speaking the most shocking, infamous truth a demon can ever articulate.

" I love you."

#ask #sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

Text

starry eyed (dear universe).

❄️💤 mikage hisoka

summary: one thousand stars, that’s all he needed to make one wish

dedication: julia ♡ i love you, thank you for being my bff~ ☆★

warnings: angst, crying, gods, graphic descriptions of physical pain, blindness, memory loss, star tears, unrequited love

author’s note: based on the concept of “star tears”! similar to hanahaki, but the unrequited love instead causes the person to cry bright, twinkling stars. over time, the person could become blind or in extreme cases, lose their memory if the pain becomes unbearable :)

word count: 2,498

music: first love – bts (yoongi), 134340 – bts

All Hisoka needed was one thousand lucky stars to make one wish. One wish, one simple request for the galaxy to make come true—for you to love him back.

He had no reason to believe in the unexplainable, but Hisoka trusted the stars to grant him a new chance. Yet, every hopeful, silent plea to any passing shooting star was unheard. Why did the gods peer down on Earth, then? To glance in curiousity, to listen to mortal grievances and suffering, only to turn a blind eye towards the pitiful. Hisoka cursed the gods that one night, then he collected his first star out of many.

Perhaps, they were listening. Or, they knew all along, because Mikage Hisoka was fated to die by the hands of unrequited love. But, all he needed was one thousand lucky stars, that’s it. One thousand would change Hisoka’s life, give him an opportunity to save himself before the night took him into the darkness.

But maybe, just maybe, you were worth going blind for.

You were the moon, glowing and ever present in his life. A source of infinite comfort that was unwavering, gentle, and a figment of the most desperate parts of his imagination. It was odd how the universe worked in your favor, how the gods seemed to bend his will to fit yours. Giving him the curse of crying stars when you were a divine god, it was a punishment for falling in love with someone so out of his reach.

As Hisoka thought of you, you and the way the sun became jealous over your beaming smile, he closed his eyes to avoid the light. It was too bright, too blinding, too breathtaking despite the consequences he’d have to face later on. Regardless, Hisoka reached up and held the fragment within his shaking hand. It was ethereal, you would’ve liked it. Yet, he pocketed it for safe keeping, for later to continue his destiny.

You couldn’t know of his star tears, Hisoka thought with a quiet sigh. This was a secret between him and the gods of the night sky.

☆★☆★☆

Hisoka didn’t like to, but he remembered the moment he realized he was in love with you.

It was night, as expected. You were outside, dragging Hisoka with you despite his reluctuance. Hushed background noise faded into nothing when you two reached the edge of the forest. The college party left behind consisted of your friends who gathered for the spectacle tonight, but you wanted a front row seat in your childhood spot. You two were the loudest of them all. Your laughter disturbed the way of Mother Earth, but even she couldn’t be mad at an angel like you.

Settling onto a tree stump with both your names carved into the base from a long, long time ago, you grinned and it felt like the start of a new day. It wasn’t even past midnight yet, but being with you felt like a sunrise was near. Hisoka fell into routine easily and rested next to you despite the wet grass, intending to always be by your side as you excitedly rambled about the supernatural phenomenon tonight. Old habits die hard, and ever since Hisoka knew you, you were in love with the stars.

There was a meteor shower tonight, apparently the first of many decades, nearly a century since. It was a sight to behold, an occurrence that would never happen again in both your lifetimes. You two comfortably talked amongst yourself, though the conversation was inaudible in his memory. Hisoka always had a rather blurry take on his past, but that night was something he’d never forget.

When the first meteor passed, you went silent with awe and stared at the sky. Hisoka didn’t look, at least not for a while, as he took in the way you shined. You were the event of the century for him, someone that would never happen again for this lifetime at least. You were so happy, the stars in the sky, the reflection in your eyes.

“Hisoka, look! Make a wish!”

Hisoka saw a sembelance of a shooting star and you quickly made a wish under your breath. He couldn’t remember what yours was, but he recalled his without a doubt.

Dear universe, I wish they would love me.

(When Hisoka was left by his lonesome after you went to find your friends, he cried his first star. You loved the stars so much, that he had them in his tears now.)

☆★☆★☆

Hisoka often wondered what it would be like to be in the void. To see nothing but black, surrounded by the absence of nothing constantly. It crossed his mind whenever the twinkling of the stars weren’t enough to distract him, or when you were illuminated by the cascading moonlight in such a way that made his breath hitch. Either way, the threat was present. In the far future, but a concern nonetheless.

These days, you seemed fascinated by it all ever since you noticed Hisoka started needing glasses. The concept of blindness, being unable to visualize anything anymore. You called it rebirth, though that was an optimistic way of seeing it. Starting over again, like how before you entered the world. Hisoka didn’t exactly disagree, though he didn’t exactly remember what it was like before his first breath.

“Do you think you’ll go blind?” You intended to jokingly ask but it came out as a whisper, as if you were afraid to break the silence between you two. As you leaned back, Hisoka noticed the stars were reflected in your eyes again as you looked up. How cruel of the universe, to taunt him this way as he gulped, pretending to think it over. He already knew the answer.

“Maybe so.” For you, I would, was left unsaid. You slowly nodded concerned, as if finding truth in his statement after a bit of consideration. Pushing your knees up, you rested your chin upon them and hugged your legs close. You were so radiant despite the late hour, much more eye–catching than the constellations in his own. Sitting beside you, Hisoka watched you carefully with the quiet, suppressed love of a man who knew it would never be enough. Despite his internal dilemma, you turned your smile at him like nothing was wrong. As if Hisoka wasn’t going from blind from directly staring at the sun named you.

“Take care of your sight, okay? You have the galaxy in your eyes.”

When you placed your fingers against the bridge of his glasses to adjust them, it took all his prayers to the gods to not cry. Hisoka turned his attention back to the sky and out of the corner of his eye, caught a a gleam. Maybe it was shooting star, maybe not.

If only you knew who the stars in his eyes were for. Hisoka closed them and put his hands together, making a wish. He knew you were doing the same and wondered what you wanted so desperately in this world. Was it so naive of him to hope his name was in your thoughts? Nevertheless, Hisoka wished.

Dear universe, if I am reborn, please let me be the love of their life.

☆★☆★☆

Hisoka’s vision was getting worse and he knew, he was running out of time. For some unexplainable reason, his right eye seemed to be blurrier than the other. It was beginning to become a struggle to explain why his eyes were different shades, something you picked up on the day it became painfully obvious.

“Hisoka, your eyes! Who did this to you—?” You started, moving in closer to stare directly at his eyes. Hisoka flinched, stumbling back quickly just as your fingertips grazed his cheek. You were clearly shocked, not used to such a violent reaction. How could you not be? Everything you graced shined, glowed in a heavenly manner as if you had the touch of golden life. While Hisoka was made of glittering cosmos from your presence, he was slowly losing the light in his eyes at the same time.

“It’s okay. I won’t go blind.” Not until I collect one thousand stars, not until I make my wish, unspoken and ignored once again. Hisoka turned away, his hands in his pockets and hair long enough to cover his mismatched eye. It was a nice style, perhaps he’d keep it, curse or not. The silence between you two was foreign, contemplative, questionable, but charged with intense energy. You had something to say, and so did he, but neither had the blessing to share their thoughts aloud. Then, you sighed.

“Promise?” You held your pinky out after a while, to which Hisoka finally caught your gaze. You looked scared, as if you knew, but it was impossible. You couldn’t have... he’d never let you until the sky fell and the world ended. So Hisoka looped his pinky around yours with the guilt of a liar, forcing a thin smile to ease your conscious. It didn’t, but you appreciated the effort.

“Next time, I’ll make a wish for you to see normally.” You promised, letting go and glancing at the moon. You didn’t ask what was wrong or why he was everchanging, privacy a strong factor between you two. Yet, he knew curiousity was building inside of you as you snuck a peek at his green eyes again. Regardless, Hisoka nodded, the quiet comfortable this time around as he closed his eyes to make a wish even if there was nothing that would hear him.

Dear universe, I wish to have one thousand stars soon.

☆★☆★☆

Hisoka believed, if you cried when missing the sun, you also wept for the stars. Maybe you were his deadly sun during the day, and his mystical and dazzling moon at night. As always, Hisoka centered around you, the far away stars adorning the crescent of your lunar being. Even if you weren’t always with him, he’d be with you until the end as fragments of the galaxy.

Yet, being with you was painful. Stumbling home with harsh, raging pain splitting his eye, his hand over the right with multiple swears at the gods again only made it worse. Crashing into nearby tables with the inability to see, doing everything under the sun to lessen the torture of crying so prettily, eventually giving up to land on his floor and scream in frustration became a cycle.

Star tears came at a cost. It felt like asteroids were bursting through his sight, exploding violently and waking him up in the middle of night just to cry. Sometimes if it got too much, Hisoka would speak to the moon and hope someone, anyone, would have mercy on his mortal state and grant him relief from agony. But how many times did he have to accept that the gods didn’t listen? They didn’t care and never will, they’re present and fading all at once.

Unfortunately, tonight was one of those nights.

Hisoka gritted his teeth, gripping the ledge of his window as he repeatedly hit his head against the wall. Anything to distract him from the immense pain of such a severe disease. Hisoka was so exhausted; it was a particularly hard day, the lack of control was eating him alive. Hisoka pushed himself up, wobbling as he tried to gaze upon the full moon that night. The wretched strain upon his right eye making his vision blurry, but the glowing moon was as elegant as ever. Hisoka wondered if you two were sharing the same sky.

Another star from his eyes and then another. He was so close, just a hundred more, and he’d be set for one wish. So despite the torment, Hisoka thought about you more, thus setting off the meteor shower. At least it got him closer and closer to his goal, love was pain, after all.

When you unexpectedly called him that night, he barely heard his ringtone before hurriedly opening it to seek the comfort of your voice. His tears settled down once Hisoka used all his energy to focus on your tone, speech, and anything that indicated it was you. With the moon as his witness, Hisoka gathered the star pieces to his jar and tallied them with your voice besides him.

When Hisoka counted nine hundred ninety nine, he gripped the phone tighter. He didn’t remember if you mentioned the subtle twinkling in the background on his side, but Hisoka could pick up on one last chime as he prayed to anyone.

Dear universe, please let me cry one more star.

(When you ended the call, insisting on seeing the constellations tomorrow night, Hisoka cried. It was the most painful tear of them all, but he did it. He had one thousand lucky stars.)

(But, as he tried to make a wish, he ran out of time.)

☆★☆★☆

Hisoka woke up to a soft, barely audible twinkling sound right beneath his hands. Slowly lifting his head from his position on the floor, Hisoka opened his tight fist to see a sharp glowing fragment within his palm. What was that? Hisoka noticed the spilled jar near his window, the container broken and even more shining pieces spread out around him. Why were there so many?

Counting them, Hisoka noticed there were nearly a thousand scattered about. Yet, he had no memory of why he would want so much. Something inside him was hurt, pained, it was difficult to even bear the sight of the fragments. His soul was graviating towards them, as if his existence was meant to orbit around these very stars. How was this possible? Stars belonged in the sky, not at the floor of his own home.

But, there was no need to dwell on it further. He must’ve dreamed everything. A scene of a meteor shower, someone’s infectious laughter, and his name carved into a tree went as soon as it came, and Hisoka disregarded it. He moved to pick everything up, carefully placing it in a draw before shutting it tight. It was strange, how it felt like something was missing, how much he wanted to put them all together. How great of a star would it be? To build one star out of a thousand parts? Before he could act on his impulse, Hisoka noticed a slip of paper tucked in the corner of the previously cracked jar.

Bending down to pick it up, Hisoka recognized his own handwriting. But the words were unfamiliar, unheard of and something that made Hisoka feel like he was forgetting something.

Dear universe, I wish they would love me.

(Hisoka looked into the mirror and stared at his reflection curiously. One eye was lighter than the other... he never remembered having such bad vision before. He put on a pair of glasses, anyways.)

Maybe, a better wish for one thousand stars would be to wish back Hisoka’s lost memories. But, no one, not even the gods, were listening.

#mikage hisoka #hisoka mikage #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #hisoka x reader #a3! hisoka #a3 hisoka

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