#remember when force was like force is a harsh name so in the west i go by mark

[forcebookish]

ok when do i grow up and stop smirking every time i see poon's name

[sasaranomiya]

Koukyuu no Karasu Volume 3 Chapter 3 - The Hand Pulling the Sleeve (Part 1)

A shorter chapter that’s mostly focused on backstory...also shellphone

Translation Notes

1. The word used here is  志怪 which translates to “tales of the miraculous/strange.” They deal with the supernatural, and gods, ghosts and spirits

2. Zensen incense is an incense made from fragrant wood. There is one on display at the Shoso-in.

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There were several archives within the imperial palace that collected books. The Koutou Palace Library was one of them, and it had a particularly valuable collection of books. Some of the books were written for scholars on foreign laws and history, while others were elaborately bound manuscripts and rare editions of strange tale collections. (1)

“Have you ever been to the Western Territory?”

Koushun asked that question to Shiki in a room at Koutou Academy. This country, separated down the center by a mountain range, had long been divided into the Eastern and Western Territory. The capital was located in the Eastern Territory, and Rouko, home to Ishiha’s Hatan tribe, was located in the west.

“I have been in Dou Province and Gei Province. I served as the western chief military secretary in Dou Province and an assistant inspector in Gei Province.”

Even the gentle-faced Shiki’s low voice was mellow and smooth. And just like the shadows on his face, his voice was tinged with a touch of sadness.

“Dou Province, huh. You must have had a difficult time there.”

There was an island of exiles. There were also several other small islands, which were quite difficult to manage and govern. Koushun heard that the waves were rough and the weather was harsh there.

“The winter cold was hard to withstand,” Shiki answered, nodding.

“Crops don’t grow well there because the winds are too strong. Because of that, iron manufacture and crafts flourish there. Since many of the woodturners and foot bellows operators were roughnecks, so bookish government bureaucrats are no match for them. However, it isn’t enough for warriors to simply suppress them with force.”

“Is the regional military governor handling things well?”

“The governor who summoned me at that time was a well-educated military officer. I have heard from others that the current governor is also a man of good reputation.”

“I see,” Koushun nodded. It was he who had appointed the regional military governor. “Rouko is in Gei Province. The Hatan tribe lives there. I have several eunuchs from there around me.”

“That land…isn’t very bountiful,” Shiki dropped his gaze somberly. “They can’t feed their children, so they give them away. But then there will be fewer workers. Their poverty doesn’t go away. It’s a vicious cycle. It isn’t very pleasant to see brokers coming to buy boys to make them into eunuchs.”

After he said that, he looked up, seeming to remember that he was talking to Koushun. “I apologize for going on a tangent.”

“No…”

Koushun recalled Ishiha’s face. He was still a young child, about ten or so. Ei Sei had also been around that age when he entered the inner palace.

“Generally, the western territories are poorer than the eastern territories. I hear the fish used to be so plentiful in the west that a palace could be built just with fishing.”

“Ah, yes. Ishiha also said that the elders used to be nostalgic for that time…”

“I…? Is he from the Hatan tribe?”

It appeared that he could tell from the sound of the name.

“He’s a eunuch from the Hatan tribe. He worked at Gyoukou Hall for a while. He currently works at Yamei Palace.”

“Yamei Palace…”

Shiki, who had just arrived in the imperial palace, might not know anything about the inner palace. Koushun was about to add an explanation, but before he could, Shiki said, “They say that the Raven Consort lives there.”

“You knew that already?”

“No, I learned about it after I came here. When I was in the provinces, I didn’t even know about the existence of the Raven Consort. Is it true that she undertakes everything from searching for lost items to curse killings?”

“Oh, well…”

He had never seen Jusetsu cast a curse, and he didn’t think she would.

“Um—” Just as Shiki was about to say something after careful consideration, Ei Sei came to inform them. “Dajia, the Duck Consort has arrived.”

“Oh, right. Was it today?”

He had given Kajou, who wanted to borrow books, permission to come here.

Kajou entered the room, accompanied by several attendants and eunuchs. She was a refreshing sight in her pale blue robes tinged with light grey. The dangling ornaments of her hairpins clinked together coolly.

“Did you want to borrow the classical poetry book, Kajou?”

“Yes, I have already borrowed it. There is a copy of a Kakami picture scroll in this room, I believe. I would like to borrow it.”

I want to look at it together with the Raven Consort, she said. Kajou was extremely fond of Jusetsu.

“A Kakami picture scroll?” Koushun looked at the lined-up shelves. “It must be somewhere around here.”

“I shall bring it,” Shiki quickly moved. It seemed that he already knew where everything was.

Kajou thanked him, who returned with several picture scrolls. “My, thank you very much. Are you a scholar? It’s my first time seeing you.”

Kajou often visited the academy, so she was familiar with the scholars’ faces.

“I was appointed here as a scholar recently. My name is Reiko Shiki,” Shiki bowed courteously.

“Oh, is that so? Where are you from?”

Koushun, with a start, said, “He’s from Ga Province.”

“I used to be a deputy inspector in Ga Province. I was born in Hosui in Reki Province.”

Kajou’s smile stiffened for just a moment at Shiki’s answer.

“I see. ���I shall look at the contents and choose which one I wish to borrow,” Saying that with a smile, Kajou moved to the long table in the back. The eunuchs holding the picture scrolls and attendants followed. Watching them, Shiki asked Koushun, “Should I not have mentioned Reki Province?”

“Yes. …She lost someone she knew there.”

That was all Koushun said, and he glanced at Shiki. He was shrewder than he thought he would be, showing off his competence in front of a consort and promoting his name.

“——Putting that aside, weren’t you about to say something earlier?”

“Yes…” Shiki lowered his eyes. “Um, will the Raven Consort accept a request from someone like me? Or does she only listen to requests from those in the inner palace?”

“Do you have a request for her?”

Koushun was a little surprised. Somehow, Shiki didn’t look like someone who would rely on such things.

Yes, Shiki answered and rubbed his arms. His expression was dark, a shadow cast over it.

“…I’ll try asking her. By the way, what sort of request do you have for her?”

Shiki moved his gaze as if in hesitation.

“I’m sure you’ll think me a fool, but…” After saying that, Shiki lifted his eyes.

“I can see a hand pulling on my sleeve.”

Jusetsu sat down in a chair and looked at the man kneeling before her. His name was Reiko Shiki. At first glance, he didn’t look like a government official. Jusetsu hadn’t seen that many government officials to the extent that she could conclude that, but he looked very different from the officials she had seen so far. Bureaucrats were generally somewhat cold. It wasn’t that they were cold-hearted. It was an intellectual coldness, like they were sharpening their reason with knowledge.

However, this man named Shiki had no such coldness. His gaze was gentle, and there was a sense of cleanliness radiating from his ruddy skin and dress. He had an affable appearance. But, for some reason, Jusetsu could sense a shadow from him. Like the shade of early spring, there was a sudden chill and loneliness.

Why is this man in the imperial palace?

He didn’t seem to possess the spirit to work for his country or the ambition to make a name for himself. He simply looked terribly lonely.

Men like him are dangerous.

A eunuch offered a bowl of lychees to the frowning Jusetsu. The red skin was peeled in half and placed in a glass bowl for easy eating. Picking up the skin, Jusetsu put the white fruit flesh in her mouth. The sweet juices overflowed.

Jusetsu directed her gaze diagonally. Koushun was sitting there. With an expressionless face, he was leaning slightly against the armrest and sitting calmly. Nobody was saying anything. The rain was so loud that they couldn’t hear each other when they spoke.

This was the Tourin in the imperial palace, the emperor’s villa. It had a garden, a pond, and a beautiful pagoda. Under normal circumstances, she would have enjoyed the view, but the shower that suddenly started made that impossible. It felt as though this gazebo was about to be submerged.

Well, it would probably stop before that happens…

They couldn’t do anything with this kind of rain, so they could only wait for the time to pass. Jusetsu came to Tourin at Koushun’s request to meet with a scholar who had a request for her. That was why she was observing Shiki.

A hand pulling on his sleeve, huh…

She glanced at it and thought, indeed.

There was a white hand holding Shiki’s sleeve. It was a thin, pale woman’s hand. It was neither pulling hard nor gripping it. It was pinching the sleeve between its fingers forlornly. Only a glimpse of a pale yellow sleeve printed with a tiny flower pattern could be seen, and there was nothing beyond that. There was only a hand.

The rain finally let up and showed signs of stopping. Koushun opened his mouth.

“This person says that he can see a hand pulling on his sleeve…”

Jusetsu nodded. “It’s most likely a woman’s hand. She’s wearing a light-yellow upper garment with a pattern of small flowers.”

Shiki suddenly flinched. “You can see it?”

“Even now, it’s pulling on your sleeve. Reservedly.”

Shiki let out a breath. “I can only see it once in a while. It didn’t seem like anyone else could see it…”

He said that he thought that there was something wrong with his eyes because no one else could see it when he asked to confirm it.

“There are those I can see immediately, and those I can’t see no matter what. One might call it compatibility.”

She glanced at Shiki’s sleeve.

“The owner of that hand seems to be very worried about you. If that’s the case, then you must know this person. Someone close to you. And you know why they are worried about you, don’t you? I don’t believe there is much for me to do here.”

Shiki’s eyes widened. “You…can tell that much?”

“I can reveal the ghost with my arts, but is that necessary?”

No, Shiki shook his head. “That person’s sleeve and hand are both familiar to me. In particular, the hand…it is unmistakable. It’s Shoumei. She was my adopted younger sister.”

Adopted sister, Koushun murmured as though in confirmation.

“I only call her my sister, but we are not actually related by blood. I believe that you know that I was an orphan, and so was Shoumei. Orphans like us lived together. We wouldn’t have been able to survive otherwise.”

Shoumei was three years younger than Shiki, and was a helpless child in everything she did, so he took care of her and helped her as if she was his little sister.

“Shoumei also called me ‘Big Brother’ and loved me. In the town where we were born and raised, there was an old teacher who gathered the orphans and taught them how to read and write, and he was partial to me because I did well. Because of that, I was taken in by the current Reiko family. At that time, I asked if they would adopt Shoumei as well. It seemed that the couple wanted a daughter as well as an heir, so they decided to adopt us together.”

“You have good parents,” Koushun said, and Shiki smiled faintly. It was a nostalgic smile filled with affection. That alone made it clear how he thought of his adoptive parents.

“Yes, they are wonderful people. They weren’t well-off, but they said that it would be too pitiful if we were separated from each other. I can never repay my debt to them. And yet…I made them feel sorrow about Shoumei.”

Shiki’s eyes darkened.

“Shoumei married into a family in the neighboring town. There was a wealthy landowning family there, and both the husband and parents were very kind, so we were all overjoyed with such a good match. …It wasn’t until a few years later that something went wrong in the husband’s family. Perhaps their good nature was taken advantage of. They began to believe in the Moon Truth Sect, which was popular at the time. Only Shoumei rejected it. Apparently, they donated a lot of money to the sect… I heard that she reprimanded them many times, but her husband and in-laws didn’t listen to her. My sister would occasionally write to me, asking what should she do, but I was working in another province at the time and couldn’t return right away. I regret not leaving behind everything and going back home back then.”

Shiki furrowed his brows and seemed to be in great pain to say any more.

“…If it’s too painful to talk about, then you don’t have to talk about everything. Just a general outline will do.”

When Jusetsu said this, Shiki nodded slightly. After a moment of silence, he exhaled and continued.

“I still don’t know why her husband and his parents, who were so kind and good-natured, did such a thing. Is that what faith is? One day, Shoumei was encouraged by some men to join the Moon Truth Sect. It had happened many times before, but Shoumei refused each time. However, that wasn’t the only thing that happened that day. There was a quarrel, and eventually they became violent…in the end, Shoumei was beaten to death with sticks by them. I was later told that the men were yelling that by beating Shoumei with sticks, they were going to eradicate the evil things inside her. The men were quickly arrested and executed. By the time I returned, Shoumei was in a coffin, awaiting burial. They were waiting to bury her for my sake. Although it was difficult to tell because of the makeup applied to the dead, her body was covered in wounds. Her face too… That was months before the Moon Truth Sect was destroyed by riots.”

Shiki lowered his head.

“…It was about half a year after Shoumei died that I noticed this hand. The robe with the flower pattern was one I bought for her long ago, and it was her favorite. It wasn’t tailor-made from new materials, but secondhand, so it wasn’t anything much… But even if she wasn’t wearing that robe, I would recognize her immediately. When we were children, Shoumei would always hold onto my sleeve anxiously and follow me. Her way of gently and shyly holding onto my sleeve hadn’t changed at all. It’s like she’s alive, and there are times when I just wanted to grab her hand.”

Shiki smiled sadly.

“But, even though she was helpless and unreliable, Shoumei always seemed to be somewhat worried about me. I used to tell her to worry about herself before she worried about others, but…I guess she had that kind of temperament.”

“…So, are you saying that is why she is still pulling on your sleeve?”

Jusetsu asked, and Shiki lowered his head slightly.

“I suppose so,” he said, nodding as if trying to tell himself that. Jusetsu silently stared at his face.

“I wish to ask if it is possible to send Shoumei to paradise. If things remain this way, it would be too pitiful for Shoumei.”

“If Shoumei’s worries disappeared, she would soon be able to cross over to paradise without me having to do anything. You are the reason why Shoumei is kept here.”

And Shiki probably knows that reason.

Shiki didn’t want to talk about it, so Jusetsu didn’t know what it was.

Shiki hung his head and remained silent. Jusetsu glanced at his waist. There was an ornament hanging from his sash. It had been on her mind ever since they first met here. It was a white coral ornament.

The symbol of the Eight Truths Sect.

“…You said that you were the deputy inspector in Ga Province. Are you an Eight Truths believer?”

“No,” Shiki bluntly denied.

“Then why are you wearing that ornament? It’s the proof that you are a believer of the Eight Truths Sect.”

“This is—” Shiki touched the white coral ornament. “This is something I wear in order to investigate the Eight Truths and the Saname clan.”

“Shiki was poisoned while investigating the relationship between the Eight Truths and the Sanames in Ga Province,” Koushun cut in. Jusetsu glanced at him.

“There’s a possibility that I’m being let go on purpose. There are believers in the imperial palace as well. This is to deceive their eyes.”

There was an unpleasant feeling there, a sizzling sensation like skin being smoked. It was his wariness against the Eight Truths. Hakumyoushi was said to be the Great Sea Turtle God. Was this the same god that was worshipped in ancient times?

Gou-no-Kami is summoning me once more…

They had to be the same. Power had returned to an ancient god… And the Eight Truths, who worshipped that god.

She had a bad feeling about this.

“…You’re still investigating even now?”

“Pardon?”

“Even now, you’re still investigating the Eight Truths and the Saname clan?”

“Yes,” Shiki nodded as though it was natural. “The Eight Truths is something that must not be left alone. They would surely cause a disaster in the future. They must be destroyed.”

His voice felt dim and seemed to echo from the shadows. I see, so that’s where this man’s heart is, Jusetsu thought.

“Do you hate the Eight Truths?”

Shiki stared directly into her eyes. Dark flames dwelled in them.

“I heard that the Eight Truths Sect was derived from the Moon Truth Sect.”

She had heard that from Koushun. “Yes,” Shiki answered.

“…The person who recommended that Shoumei’s husband and in-laws join the Moom Truth Sect is currently the leader of Eight Truths. He is a man named Hakurai,” Shiki spat out the words, his expression unbefitting of his face. “He was the man who taught that people who are possessed with evil spirits can be cured by beating them with sticks.”

He despises that man.

Jusetsu averted her eyes from Shiki and stared at the white hand that was pulling on his sleeve. I think this is what Shoumei is worried about, she thought. She was worried about this hatred. She was worried about his burning hatred intensifying and turning into the beast called revenge and running wild.

Unless Shiki gave up his revenge and let go of his hatred, Shoumei couldn’t cross over to paradise. She couldn’t leave Shiki’s side. She continued to grab his sleeve and tried to hold him back.

Jusetsu looked at Koushun. He was expressionless as ever, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“In any case, there is nothing I can do. I can forcibly tear Shoumei away from you, but that is not the same as sending her to paradise. If you want her to go to Kakurenomiya and turn her into a soul that traverses the river of stars, then you will have to remove her worries.”

The souls of the dead were led to Kakurenomiya in the far eastern end of the sea. After a long time, the souls were swept away on the river that flowed from Kakurenomiya. The river was in the night sky. For the people of the sea, the sky wasn’t what laid above, but something stretched out in the sea. The river was a corridor that connected the sea of beyond to the sea. Souls turned into twinkling stars after flowing from there, and their lights fell onto the earth and became new lives. No one knew if a star would become a fish in the sea, a plant growing from the earth, or a human being.

Every time a star’s light falls to the ground, a life is born.

That was why people feared, respected, and yearned for starlight.

“The wind that blows from the distant sea sounds the flower whistle, and the starlight reminds us of the deceased. If you wish to quietly mourn her, then put Shoumei at ease.”

Shiki bit his lip and bowed his head. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry. It seems…that I still can’t send Shoumei to paradise.”

Jusetsu frowned slightly. She looked at Koushun and saw him staring out the latticed window. The rain had stopped. Droplets of water were dripping from the leaves one by one outside the window.

Ei Sei made tea for Koushun, who had returned to the inner court. As steam rose from the kettle and the scent of tea filled the room, Koushun felt the tension from his shoulders to his back slowly loosening up. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

Ei Sei scooped the boiled tea with a spoon and poured it into a cup. When Koushun accepted it, the scent of fragrant and refreshing tea wafted from the cup even more strongly. He took a sip and found that it was faintly sweet.

“Where did this tea come from?”

“Bu Province.”

“I see. It’s delicious. Your tea is the best, as always.”

“Thank you very much,” Ei Sei smiled a faint, proud smile.

Koushun asked while drinking tea, “How is the tracking of Hou Ichigyou coming along?”

“It doesn’t seem like he left the capital. We are continuing the search for him.”

Koushun nodded at Ei Sei’s reply. Hou Ichigyou was the person who brought Shougetsu to the capital and introduced him to Gyoei. His identity had come to light. He used to serve the previous dynasty as a sorcerer, and was also Ran Hyougetsu’s master. What kind of intentions did such a person have in sending Shougetsu to the inner palace? There were many things they needed to question him about. He must be taken into custody as soon as possible.

Koushun threw another question at him.

“Sei, what do you think of Shiki?”

It was common for the two of them to ask each other questions out of context. That was how it went with Ei Sei.

Ei Sei lowered his long, glossy eyelashes. “He seems dangerous,” he immediately replied.

“Is that so?”

“Dajia…you shouldn’t trust him too much.”

“Does it look like I trust him?”

Ei Sei closed his mouth, and Koushun peered at his expression. He stroked the rim of the teacup, which was painted with flowers and birds.

“…I am wondering what Chouyou is thinking.”

“The Saname…”

“I’ve only met that man three times, but he’s completely unreadable to me. If the Sanames are involved with the Eight Truths, and if they are plotting something no good, he wouldn’t do anything that would arouse suspicion. That’s an absolute fact. He wouldn’t fail to kill Shiki or let him slip through his hands. If Shiki was able to escape from Ga Province, that was because of Chouyou’s will.”

“——Does that mean Shiki is Saname’s pawn?”

No, Koushun put the cup back on the table. “I am not sure about that. Did he only let Shiki go, or did he send him here? Is there a connection between Chouyou and Shiki? What is the relationship between Chouyou and the Eight Truths…?”

Don’t rush. You’ll let him get away.

Koushun folded his hands in front of his body and closed his eyes slightly.

Saname Chouyou…

The head of the Saname clan whose real name was unknown. He wondered where his intentions laid.

“I’m concerned about the Ga Province silk merchants who have been coming and going from the Un estate lately.”

Koushun nodded slightly at Ei Sei’s words.

Tutor Un, don’t pretend to be stupid.

Everything is falling away from between my fingers… In the end, there is nothing left.

He couldn’t get those thoughts out of his mind.

Ei Sei burned incense for Koushun, who had closed his eyes. Clove incense, pipe vine incense, zensen incense (2)…there had always been a variety of incense used here, but recently he had been preferring to burn agarwood incense. That was the incense Jusetsu often used.

As the gentle fragrance filled the air, he felt as if he was in Yamei Palace. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

Jusetsu had told him that the deity worshipped by the Eight Truths was the ancient Sea Turtle God. He had sensed that something was stirring and reaching out to them. He wanted to know just what it was.

“What’s the matter?”

Koushun heard footsteps and opened his eyes. Standing beside Ei Sei was a serving eunuch with a tray in his hands. Ei Sei took the tray and placed it on the table.

“This is a gift from Gei Province that arrived the other day.”

“Ah…the large rare conch snell, was it?”

Ei Sei lifted the cloth over the tray. It held a conch shell as big as Koushun’s face. It had a deep, dark color that sparkled in rainbow colors depending on the angle one viewed it from. It was named the “Brilliant Raven Shell. It was believed that large conch snails were the messengers of the gods who created the Peripheral Mirages—the fog at the ends of the sea. What was more, this was a rare raven shell that sparkled in many colors. Because of this, it was presented to the emperor as a symbol of good omens. Apparently, it was picked up a local fisherman after it had washed up on the beach.

“It was a beach in Rouko, right? That’s Ishiha’s hometown. I heard all sorts of things are washed up there.”

Did even corpses wash up there?

He suddenly recalled the myth that this land was created from the corpse of a god who was chopped into pieces. It was said to be a god who was exiled from Kakurenomiya.

“A country born from death. Is ruling it as an emperor the same as turning a corpse into a throne?”

Koushun, who had the shell in his hand and was admiring its iridescent luster, suddenly felt that he heard a faint voice and looked around.

“Is something the matter?”

“Can’t you hear that voice?”

Ei Sei stopped his movements to listen carefully. “No, I don’t hear anything.”

Koushun gestured to the bewildered Ei Sei to stop talking. He could still hear it.

What was this? It was like a whisper, but it wasn’t a distant voice. It sounded from nearby. And yet it was far away.

“Summer King.”

Koushun startled. It was a familiar voice.

A voice that was neither low nor high. A sound like intense waves. This was…

“Shougetsu…no, the Owl?”

Koushun looked down at the shell in his hand. The voice is coming from here. Impossible.

“Summer King—would it better if I called you emperor? Your names are quite complicated.”

“What’s happening? Where are you talking from?”

“Dajia?” Ei Sei was flustered. “What’s wrong?”

“Can’t you hear him?”

Astonished, Koushun looked between Ei Sei and the shell.

“My voice can only be heard by those who wear my mark.”

“Your mark?”

“I injured you. That must have left a bruise.”

Koushun’s hand went to his arm. The scar he had received from the Owl had already disappeared, but the faint bruise that had appeared still remained. It was a brown bruise, shaped like an owl’s feather.

“I can’t move. I can’t even make tsukaibe anymore. All I can do now is send my voice elsewhere.” There was a sound like a sigh. “I’m in prison. I’m completely powerless here.”

“Prison?”

“I told you that interference was forbidden. Didn’t I say that? I don’t know. Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been punished and sent to the goal. That’s why I had this large conch snail act as my messenger.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t make tsukaibe.”

“This isn’t a tsukaibe. Conch snails can only perform simple things. Right now, it’s conveying my voice. The shell is in your hands, and the snail itself is drifting in the sea, relaying my voice. The trouble is that whether or not it reaches you depends on the tides.”

Koushun stared at the shell and frowned.

“Why exactly are you doing this? You can’t kill the Raven Consort with just your voice.”

The Owl’s goal was to kill the Raven Consort—and consequently, the Raven.

“Yes, I can’t kill her. But, once I get involved, I can’t stand just watching. I want to help the Raven.”

The Owl’s tone was aloof, but his desire sounded earnest.

“…But, you can’t do anything anymore, can you?”

“I can’t. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“What?” Koushun was astonished. “Are you telling me to kill the Raven Consort?”

“I’m not. I want you to help the Raven.”

“So, what—”

“You don’t want to kill the Raven Consort. I want to save the Raven. Even I don’t want to kill an innocent maiden. Didn’t I say that before as well? If that’s the case, think about it.”

“…About what?”

“A way to save the Raven without killing the Raven Consort.”

Koushun stared at the shell. The jet-black shell was glossy, and the rainbow sheen was like moonlight shimmering on the surface of a lake.

“There must be a way to save the Raven Consort as well. You want to help her, don’t you?”

He caught his breath faintly. Yes, he wanted to save Jusetsu from her suffering. That was what he wanted to do.

“…But, that…”

Wouldn’t that mean losing the Winter King?

The Raven was imprisoned within the Raven Consort, who was concealed within the inner palace, and that was how the Summer and Winter Kings were just barely kept in existence. If we free the Raven—what will happen? The Raven would probably not be who she used to be. This dynasty wasn’t an era where the Winter and Summer Kings stood side by side.

Chaos is inevitable.

Chaos caused war. Koushun closed his eyes and drooped his head, as though he could see visions of the war-torn land. There’s no way I could make such a choice.

The Owl continued to speak, not minding Koushun’s silence.

“You and I don’t have conflicting wishes. So think about it. Find a way to help both of them.”

“You can’t just…” Koushun pressed his hand against his forehead. “What can I think of and do about it that a god can’t?”

He heard a snort.

“God this, god that—you mortals were the ones who worship us as that on your own, but I don’t understand that concept. We may be able to do some of the things that you cannot do, but you can also do what we cannot. It’s not a bad thing to fear and respect those of a different race, but it’s a problem if you think they can do anything.”

“I didn’t think you could do anything, but…”

Koushun didn’t think they were talking about a mere difference in race.

“Can you mortals match the claws of a bear? Can you fight against the fangs of a wolf? I doubt you can. But, you have wisdom. That’s why you make tools to fight against beasts. That’s the difference between you and us. We have wisdom too, but it’s probably different from yours. After all, we never even dreamed that Koushou would do such a foolish act. Something that benefitted no one—no, it only benefitted one person: Ran Yuu. I don’t understand how you people think.”

Koushou. The first Raven Consort. She was the one who imprisoned the Raven within the Raven Consort.

“But that is precisely why you lot might be able to think of something. And the way to save the Raven is also…”

Was there such a way? If there was——

The Owl’s voice became distant. There was a faint sound like the tides receding. The voice cut off at that point. Silence returned to the room.

Koushun resisted the urge to throw the shell and placed it on the tray instead. He let out a deep sigh.

“…Dajia, is everything okay?”

Ei Sei, who had been holding his breath until then, asked him nervously.

“Ah…”

His body, which had been lightened by Ei Sei’s tea, became heavy again.

“Sorry, but could you give me another cup of tea? Lukewarm is fine.”

“Understood.”

Ei Sei, not looking bothered in the least, happily prepared the tea again. It must be a hassle. He started the fire, boiled the water, and boiled the tea. Koushun felt at ease as he watched him.

Even though the tea leaves were already roasted and ground, it took some skill to get just the right amount of boiled water and extract the flavor. Ei Sei had always been good at getting the hang of things no matter what. He was a clever person.

If he hadn’t been a eunuch, he would have made a good government official.

He had thoughts like that from time to time, but he never said it aloud. That was because it would only be nothing but degrading to Ei Sei to talk about something that was already beyond help.

“…You’ve improved so quickly in both tea and calligraphy as soon as you were taught.”

“Thank you very much. I truly enjoyed learning from you.”

“Is that so?”

“Until you rescued me, Dajia, I had nothing to hope for in my life,” The sound of boiling water resounded in the room. Ei Sei took salt from the salt rack and added it to the kettle. “I have no regrets about becoming a eunuch, because I would have been in a far worser situation if I had stayed where I was born.”

Ei Sei spoke as though he understood Koushun’s feelings. He was smiling. It was a beautiful smile.

“…”

Koushun, who knew what Ei Sei, who was more beautiful than anyone, had gone through after becoming a new eunuch chi’er, remained silent. It was difficult to imagine a far worser situation than that.

I heard he was born in the entertainment district.

He had never pried. That was because Ei Sei didn’t seem to want to be asked about it.

If I remember correctly, Jusetsu was also born in the entertainment district.

He heard snatches of her story some time ago. She had lived there before becoming a house slave, and her mother was a prostitute as well.

Koushun gazed at Ei Sei’s face as he sipped his tea. Although her features were different from his, Jusetsu was also beautiful. Her face somewhat gave off the same air as Ei Sei’s. They possessed beautiful faces, but also an air of coldness and indifference.

“…I have a feeling that you and Jusetsu will get along very well.”

Ei Sei nearly spilled the tea.

“S-Sometimes, Dajia, you remain silent for a long time, and then you suddenly say something out of the ordinary.”

Ei Sei looked as though he wanted to say, “Get along well? Absolutely not.” It was so funny that Koushun let out a laugh and thought to himself, I’ll say the same thing to Jusetsu next time.

Previous || Index || Next

[reneesbooks]

poison for the dragon ask game <3

ask game here!

poison: share a snippet that’s all about relationships (good or bad)

double whammy of vonnie and keelan's friendship(?) and vonnie's relationship with her sister. don't worry about why keelan doesn't live in the castle anymore

It's getting late and Keelan's cheek is pressed to the bar, his eyes fixed on a drop of condensation rolling down the side of his glass of water. Vonnie appears in his line of sight, her forehead wrinkling as her mouth moves. He tries to focus on what she's saying.

“Gods' tits, O'Leyne, quit crying and stand up! Annie's closing up shop.”

“I'm not crying,” he says, sniffling.

“You're fucking drunk. A crying drunk. Shit, Annie, how much did you give him?”

Keelan doesn't pay attention to Annie's answer, pawing clumsily at his face in an effort to hide his tears.

“Keys,” Vonnie says, snapping her fingers in front of his face. More tears slide down his cheeks.

“Maura used to call me that,” he slurs.

“Fucking—your keys! To...wherever it is that you live!”

“Be nice to him!” Annie's voice protests. Vonnie argues again and Keelan stops listening, phantom hands carding through his hair.

“Okay, O'Leyne.” He's not sure when he stood up, but Vonnie has his arm pulled across her shoulders. “I'm taking you home.”

“It's not home.” Keelan stumbles into the doorframe. “It's wrong.” He cries harder. “She's not there.”

“Shit and dammit, O'Leyne, you have to stop crying,” Vonnie hisses. “People are going to stare. Which way?”

“Towards the lake,” he sniffs. “Everything reminds me of her.”

“Oh for fuck's...alright.” She adjusts her hold on his arm. “You remember I wanted to be a bard? The reason I joined the city guard instead is because my parents died and left me to take care of a baby sister so young that they hadn't even had the chance to name her.” She takes a deep breath and Keelan focuses on the lines around her mouth, twenty years of being a soldier compounded and held in one crease. “I had to take care of Baby Mallory and needed money. City guard was easy enough and it kept the two of us safe.”

“You have a sister?” Keelan manages to say, before he leans over and vomits into the gutter next to Vonnie's feet. She grimaces and pats his back.

“Yes, I have a sister. She'll be twenty-two in half a moon.”

“Does she live with you?” He nearly stumbles in front of a carriage and she has to yank him out of the road. “Do you need to get home to her?”

“No,” Vonnie says, shoving him when he collapses against her. He forces his feet to move. “No, Baby ran away when she was seven because she just couldn't stand to live with me anymore.” She barks out a harsh laugh. “She was always a stubborn shit; runs in the family.”

“Did you ever find her?” Keelan grabs a handful of her cloak to steady himself.

“I did,” Vonnie says simply. She glances down at him. “Which way?”

“West. Was she okay?”

“Gods fucking—I swear, O'Leyne, if you remember any of this in the morning, I will knock your head until you don't.” She inhales deeply. “She'd gone to an orphanage. The nuns there wouldn't give her back to me. They said that Baby told them all about me, about my vices and sins.” She spit the words, her nails digging into Keelan's wrist. “I could only get her back when I proved myself worthy. I spent years fighting and bleeding to work my way up to lieutenant. But when I went back for Baby, she wouldn't come. Wouldn't even see me. Said I was a disappointment and a sinner and that she was going to become a nun and pray for my soul.”

They're at Keelan's front door, Vonnie's freckled fingers pushing his keys into the lock. She deposits him on his couch and grabs a bucket, setting it on the floor next to him.

“You're nice,” Keelan mumbles, and she snorts like she doesn't believe him. “I'm sorry your sister would rather be a nun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she says, and leaves.

lacuna taglist (ask to be added <3): @serenanymph @lyssa-ink @oh-no-another-idea @lena-rambles @ashen-crest @tragicbackstoryenjoyer @serpentarii @allianaavelinjackson

[whitepolaris]

The Ghosts of Donner State Park

by Janice Oberding

Indeed if I do not experience something far worse than I have yet done, I shall say the trouble is all in getting started. -Tamsen Donner, June 1846

Tamsen Donner could not have foreseen the horror that awaited her high in the Sierras when she penned those words to a friend. She was among the 87 people who left Independence, Missouri, in the spring of 1846 headed west to California and a better life. They might well have arrived safe and sound, their names unknown to history, if not for a fateful decision that led to tragedy. 

Experienced travelers warned them not to take the advice found in a certain book, but the Donner Party leaders’ minds were made up. They would follow the new route suggested by Lansford Hastings, author of The Emigrants’ Guide to Oregon and California; it would, according to Hastings, shave off several days’ travel time. Anxious to reach California, they led the party onto the Hastings Cut-off that would its way across the treacherous Wasatch Mountains of Utah. It was a costly mistake. Instead of saving time, the route slowed their travel and caused them to lose both livestock and food. 

It was late October, and a storm was brewing off the coast of California as the Donner Party headed west toward the Sierras. By the time they reached present-day Verdi, California, snowflakes were flying. A broken wagon axle slowed down George Donner; and as the snow continued to fall, he and his family were forced to stop and camp in a hastily thrown-together shelter as Alder Creek. 

At Donner’s urging, the rest of the party moved onward. Six miles west, they too were stopped by the heavy snowfall. They huddled in crudely built shelters and planned to wait out the snow. But with each passing day, the snow piled higher. They were trapped; they could not retreat and they could not move forward. They would wait here near the water’s edge at Truckee Lake until a recuse party arrived. 

Weeks passed and the food supplies dwindled. Hunting was all but impossible in the ten-foot snowdrifts, and the travelers had already butchered the livestock. Tempers were short as food was rationed and fought over. In desperation, the men and women boiled shoes and laces were make a soup of sorts. Then came the day when there was nothing left to eat. From this day on, some members of the Donner Party would resort to cannibalizing those who had succumbed to the harsh conditions. 

A Park Visitor’s Story

Each year, thousands of motorists drive past the Donner State Park unaware of the horrendous events that took place there in the winter of 1847. Others come to the park because of their fascination with the Donner story. They came, hike, picnic, and just enjoy the outdoors; a few have had a brush with the supernatural. Such is the case with a computer technician, Don Nelspeth (named changed to protect his privacy), who shared the following story with me during a recent conference. 

“The first time I ever camped at Donner State Park, I was about ten years old. Every summer after that, my family would drive up from the Bay Area to spend a few days in what my dad called ‘peace and quiet in the wilderness.’

“But it isn’t really. The park is so close to Interstate 80 that you can hear cars and trucks speeding past at all hours of the day and night. I remember my dad used to walk us around and point out where the Donner Party’s shelters had stood, the big rock with the plaque that bore all their names, and where the remains are supposedly buried. 

“These childhood memories came rushing back to me when I learned that the company picnic campout was to held at Donner State Park, and I was thrilled. It had been years since I’d been up to the park; this would be like going home, in a way. My wife, who isn’t an outdoors person, didn’t share my enthusiasm.

“‘What a creepy place,’ she said, shuddering. 

“’You’ll change your mind once we get there,’ I assured her. 

“My wife and two daughters and I arrived the day before the scheduled campout day so we could enjoy some family time. As we pulled into the park, I was happy to see that things hadn’t really changed all that much; there were more cars on the interstate and a designated walking trail and picnic areas had been added, but Donner Park remained the same. Nostalgia took hold of me as I pulled my wife and daughters to the monument and explained the Donners’ plight. The girls yawned and my wife nodded sullenly. ‘Can you imagine being up here with snow as tall as this monument, and no feed to eat?’ I asked, trying to generate some enthusiasm for the weekend ahead. 

“My youngest answered, ‘But I saw a Burger King down the street.’

“’That was long before fast food,’ I explained. 

“When she asked if there were any dinosaurs here, I decided she was still too young to appreciate the story. 

“My older daughter shivered and asked, ‘What about ghosts?’

“‘No such thing,’ my wife assured her. 

“There was no point in telling them about Tamsen Donner’s glowing ghost that people say roams this park at night, I thought. My parents and I had always laughed at the story, and we even made up a song about it: I see Tamsen’s ghost up in the tree. I hope she gets you instead of me!

“I doubted my wife and daughters would se any humor in the ghost or the song. We pitched our tent in a clearing near tall pines and watched birds flit about. The sound of water rushing over boulders was soothing, but we could still hear the whir of cars rushing along the interstate. 

“Darkness fell early; it always does in the mountains. Traditionalists, we hoisted our hotdogs on sticks over the fire till they were crisp and blackened. After dinner bundled up and sat around the glowing campfire. 

“My older daughter complained, ‘This place is crawling with bugs’ as she swatted at the air. ‘Looks like those Donners could have eaten them,’ she smirked. 

“‘Except that it was winter,’ I explained. ‘And bugs aren’t generally out, and . . .’ I stopped in mid sentence. Directly across the park was something that looked like the glowing figure of a woman; it hovered slightly above the ground and vanished. 

“‘What is it?’ my wife asked. 

“’I lost my train of thought,’ I lied. 

The Wisp in the Tent

Now Don related the part in the story that gave me cold chills-and still does. 

“Wrapped up in their sleeping bags that night, my family fell asleep quickly. But I couldn’t. I got up, sat outside the tent, and spent the next few hours trying to convince myself that what I had seen earlier was nothing but a reflection from a passing car. Maybe it would come back and I would know for sure. 

“It didn’t return until the next night. We were all sleeping soundly when I was suddenly awakened by something that felt cold and wet on my face. Startled, I sat up; that’s when I saw her. She was yellowish and almost seemed to be see-through. She hovered a few inches off the ground and looked around the tent curiously. I have never been as cold as I was in the icy air that emanated from her. I was scared, all right. But I didn’t want to raise the alarm and frightened anyone else. Assuring myself that this wasn’t a dream, I watched as she slowly floated up to the top of the tent and evaporated right through it. 

“‘Tamsen Donner’s ghost. I’ve just seen Tamsen Donner’s ghost. The stories are true,’ I whispered to myself. 

“I know what I saw was real. It wasn’t lights somehow reflecting through the park. I clearly saw its facial features, and it was a woman’s ghost. I’m not sure what she was looking for, but I am convinced I saw Tamsen Donner’s ghost that night.”

[archived-kin]

words upon the wind

note from kin: i don’t really know how to feel about this one, to be honest - it feels kind of half-baked and messy, but oh well, what can you do?

the basic premise is that, instead of dvalin, it’s you, a dear companion from long ago, that venti finds rampaging through mondstadt after waking up from a long, long sleep

i’m pretty sure adepti are exclusive to liyue, so i guess reader is just the mondstadt equivalent? basically you’re in that grey area between vision-holder and archon - you’re not powerful enough to have received a gnosis and ascend into godhood, but you’re powerful enough to have attained a level of immortality and be able to control the wind to a certain extent!

enjoy!! (or don’t enjoy, it is meant to be angst after all)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, venti

pairing(s): venti/reader

warning(s): memory loss, general manipulation of one’s actions, brief mention of death, sad venti

genre: oh it is angst time baby (i think so anyway, please let me know if this managed to get you In Your Feels or not)

Where am I?

Your eyes burn, the air whipping around you in harsh gales that tear at your clothes and dig into your skin like blades. Your hands move of their own accord in a pattern that you don’t recognise, and the wind seems to move with them, swirling around you in a vortex that obscures the world from view, until all you can see are blurred lights, blurred lines, blurred green.

Green. There is a boy dressed in green, far below, arms braced above his head, staring at you. His mouth opens and shuts, but you cannot hear anything - only the whistle of the wind.

Who is he? Who are you? Why does the air bend to your will? What is this strange land below you, spreading out in grassy fields to the south and a bustling city to the west?

The boy is shouting now, straining so hard that the force of his own yells almost knocks him over. Something lies abandoned in the grass by his feet - a lyre with broken strings. There is something familiar about the sight, something familiar about him - something that you can’t quite place. His face is twisted, as if in pain. Are you hurting him? You don’t want to hurt him.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Wait for me, promise?”

You don’t know this feeling - you don’t know this anger, this sorrow, this anguish that digs its claws deep into you and threatens to rip you apart. Tears sting at your eyes, but why? For who do you so desperately want to cry for?

The boy stands his ground, even as the wind around you swells in rippling masses and threatens to crush him under its sheer power. You want to shout, to scream, to tell him to run, run far away so that I can’t hurt you, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a guttural, inhuman howl of anger as the storm around you swells.

He fumbles with something on his back - a bow, a bow that trembles in his hands as he raises it and prepares to aim. How can he expect to fight the power of a thousand winds with an arrow? He’ll be killed before his arrow reaches its target, thrown back and forth by the very air around him until his limbs grow limp and his eyes lose their light. He knows this, he must know this - so why does he continue to refuse to relent?

He pulls back the string. You look back, expecting to be staring down the shaft of an arrow, but he isn’t aiming at your head. His face is scrunched in concentration, feet firmly anchored to the ground - and he is deliberately and determinedly pointing his arrow down at your hip. You don’t understand y our wind can easily snap any arrow of his in half, so why waste them on trying to slow you down? Why not go straight for the kill?

You don’t know why, but something tells you that he doesn’t want to kill you. He isn’t aiming an arrow in hopes of eradicating a target. You don’t how you know this, but somehow, against all odds, you’re willing to believe that this boy you do not know would never seek to harm you.

Perhaps that is why you do not intervene when he looses his arrow. Perhaps that is why you do not interrupt its path even as it sails forward, sharp and true. Perhaps that is why, even as the arrow strikes its target and the sound of something shattering rings in your ears, you do not lift even a finger to fight back.

You look down. Something purple and alien is crumbling from your hip, dissolving in the wind as it falls away. Quite suddenly, the wind calms, and you drop to the ground.

The boy stands in shocked silence for a moment, as if he can’t quite believe that his plan actually worked. Then he moves again, running to you, leaving both his bow and the broken lyre behind.

“Stay right there!” You warn as he reaches out a hand, jumping back into a defensive stance. “Don’t touch me!”

He pulls back, and an strange expression of hurt flashes briefly across his face. “But... it’s me. Surely I haven’t slept so long that you’ve forgotten me?”

You ignore the sharp tug in your chest at the sound of his voice, instead narrowing your eyes and glaring at him. The wind continues to swirl around the two of you, tossing the ends of his braided hair about in an almost playful way.

“I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about,” You growl in reply. “What are you doing here?”

He’s silent for a long while before he replies. “I’m here... to free you.”

“Free me?” You scoff. “What on earth would you be freeing me from? I control the very wind! How much freer can I be?”

His eyes are sad - so sad that you can barely stand to look at them. “You haven’t been free in a long time, [Name]. Please… all I want is to help you.”

The silence would be suffocating if not for the breeze rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. You refuse to meet the boy’s gaze. You speak again, but your voice is softer… weaker. “What is there to help?”

Against all best decisions, he chooses to move closer, reaching forward and grasping your right hand. For some reason that you can’t quite fathom, you let him.

“This destruction, this rage… none of this is you. You’re no Stormterror, you never have been. You... you were always just my Starseeker.”

“Who are you to tell me who I am?” You shoot back in reply. You want to pull your hand from his, to push him away and scorn him, but somehow you can’t quite bring yourself to. “I don’t know who this Starseeker you speak of is, but they aren’t me, and I most certainly am not yours.”

“Then who are you?” He asks, and you find yourself at a loss for an answer. “Who are you, if not Starseeker? Why are you attacking this land, if not because of the Abyss Order’s control?”

“I am controlled by no one,” You snap, but there is no real bite in your tone. You raise a hand to your temple, gritting your teeth.

“How many gaps are there in your memory?” He presses further, his voice increasing in intensity and desperation with every word. His grip around your hand is so tight that it almost bursts. “Do you remember how you got here? Do you remember why you’re doing this? Do you remember how your abilities came to be, how you were even created?”

“I…” You pull back, and he releases your hand, gazing at you imploringly as you turn away. “I don’t…”

“They must have manipulated your memories, stolen them even,” His voice breaks slightly, and he rubs furiously at his eyes with one sleeve as he continues, “Anything to keep you under their control, to rip away the person that you were to leave only a weapon for them to use… but please… you have to try to remember!”

“What is there to remember?!” You finally turn to look at him, and your eyes blaze so brightly that he freezes in place. “This is all I’ve known, and as far as I’m concerned, it is all that I want to know. I will let you live, but I don’t want to see your face again.”

“No—!” He reaches for your hand again, but you push him away with ease, and he lands roughly in the grass. “Please, wait!”

You only shake your head in response and turn to leave, the air around you beginning to stir in preparation to lift you. But then the boy cries out once more, and you pause for just long enough for him to leap to his feet and throw himself at you once more - and in one final, reckless movement, he rips the flower from his hat and presses it into your hands.

“The Cecilias, [Name],” he says desperately, closing your fingers around the flower’s delicate petals. “Don’t you remember the Cecilias?”

“The… Cecilias…” You stare at the innocent flower sitting in your palm for a long moment. Something suddenly tugs hard at your chest, and you inhale sharply, almost crushing the flower in your fist. The boy catches you as you stumble forward, and two of you sink to the ground in tandem.

“I brought you to Starsnatch Cliff,” He begins to speak so quickly that the words seem to blur together. It feels as if he wants to say so much more than what he can. “We went to Starsnatch Cliff together, and we sat and watched the sunset, and we talked all night, until the sun came up again. You remember the stars, don’t you?”

“Stars...?” You repeat. The boy gazes at you hopefully, nodding, and, before you realise it, you’re lifting a hand to cup his cheek.

He reaches up and softly places his own hand over yours. He’s trembling, but he smiles nevertheless - he smiles for you, even though you don’t know him, can’t know him. How many memories have you lost? And what is his place in them?

“You were still so young back then,” He murmurs, eyes distant as if reminiscing something that has long since passed. “You didn’t know what stars were. That night, when we sat together beneath the night sky, I sang you a song. Do you remember how it went?”

“Star…” Your words come of their own accord, unfocused and dreamy. “Fly me to the stars in the sky…”

Something deep inside you seems to stir at the way that his eyes soften. There is something so achingly familiar about their colour, somewhere between blue and green, like the ripples out on the open sea where there is no land to disturb its waves, like the vast emptiness of the sky that goes on for longer than you can remember and longer than you will live to see, like the quiet rustle of the trees in a peaceful evening breeze.

“It was our song,” He murmurs, and his eyes slowly fall shut. “I never sang it for anyone else, and I never will.”

You stiffen.

“Did you like it?” The boy asks, his eyes bright against the dark sky behind him as the final notes of his song fade into the night.

“I… think I did,” You reply, unsure. You press your hand to your chest, and your heart thumps loudly against it.

“Come on, no need to sound so unenthusiastic!” He sets down his lyre, leaning forward, so close to you that you can see every flyaway lock of hair scattered messily about his face. “I wrote this song just for you. It’s all yours.”

You ponder over his words for a while. “...but it’s your song.”

“No, no, I’m just the one who sang it,” He shakes his head. He pauses and thinks for a moment, then continues, “And wrote it. And composed it. And named it.”

He pauses again, his face scrunching up slightly. Finally, he decides, “You know what, we’ll share it! It’ll be our song. Ours only. I won’t sing it for anyone else, and I never will. How does that sound?”

Everything is coming back now, bursting the banks and submerging you in its endless flow. You remember nights spent beneath an inky sky filled with stars, you remember the ring of laughter around a forest clearing, you remember hours spent riding a breeze above a city of flickering lights. You remember the rush of excitement as you plummeted from the sky to a rippling lake below, only for a pair of hands to dip down and catch you before you could break the surface. You remember arms wrapped around your shoulders in an warm embrace, spinning the two of you through the air until sky and land became one, until you couldn’t tell where you ended and they began. And the boy in front of you—

You know the curve of his smile and the dip of his frown. You know the way that his hair falls around his face in messy waves. You know the way that he laughs, head thrown back as if expressing his mirth to the very heavens above. You know the quiet melody of his voice, soothing you to sleep when the sea is too deep and the storms too strong. You know this boy!

“Barbatos...?” You whisper.

His eyes fly open. For a single, frozen second, the two of you stare at each other, one in disbelieving wonder and one in quiet realisation.

Then, before you know it, you’re toppling backwards. The boy throws his arms around your neck and hugs you tight, burying his face into the nape of your neck as he sobs, and the only thing you can distinguish among his muffled whimpers is your name, repeated like a mantra or a spell, as if you might disappear at any moment and leave him all alone once more.

Venti holds you close and cries. He cries for the memories that you were forced to forget, for the destruction that you were forced to wreak, for the people that you were forced to forsake. He cries because the centuries that the two of you have lost can never truly be recovered, because even though you are here with him, you are still so lost and the years have been so long and he doesn’t know i how to go on from here. You slowly shift and return his embrace, and he can’t help but sink into your touch, like a stone disappearing under the surface of a river.

It will take time to heal. Wounds as old as yours and his do not stop hurting easily, after all. But, as Venti burrows closer to you still, selfishly revelling in the feeling of your arms around him, he listens to the quiet hum of the breeze around him, and he allows himself to be hopeful.

He won’t be afraid of the storms on the horizon anymore. After all, it was those very winds that brought you back to him.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Five

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Fluff, Injuries, Kinda Angst

Word Count: 2.7K

A/n: Happy New Year to all you beautiful people. I’m writing this and I’m feeling pretty happy right now but I’m also feeling very drained because I’m working so much and there's shit going on, BUT I wanted to post this because it’s been long awaited. It’s shorter because it’s a rare (Kinda) fluffy chapter and It ends off on a good place to have me starting the next part openly. My brain is mush rn so Idk if this is even making sense.

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

~*~

“I need to know exactly what you did to her. She is in there, in pain and agony and you stand here acting as though you are the one who had to endure the hardships.”

James grinds his teeth together, wishing his reunion with his beloved was going better.

“I... I was harsh with her. I told her she would never replace you... that her only purpose was to give me an heir and that she could be easily replaced. She... she angered me and I struck her... I have forced myself upon her in my anger and my haste to consummate the marriage. I know I am wrong for all I have done but I am doing everything in my power to right my wrongs.”

He doesn’t see it coming, only realizes it when his nose crunches beneath Steve's fist.

“You are a coward! A King would not behave like that even if he had lost his entire kingdom! You have treated our wife as though she is a prisoner! And I say our wife because in title that is what she is. However, she is my wife in my heart as well. But anyone can see that she is not your wife in yours. The way you have treated her... you should not be allowed near her.”

He strikes his husband again, his knuckles knocking the side of his cheek as the brunet dodges swiftly.

“I know. I understand that what I have done is wrong but-” “No, James, I don’t think you do! She is terrified of you! She’d sooner seek comfort in me, a stranger, than in you. You are the first face of our kingdom that she met and you...” The blond trails off, beyond furious with his husband.

“You have broken that woman. What can you even say for yourself?”

The brunet backs up a step, his hands raised in surrender as Steve steps closer to him, his hands clenching into fists.

“Nothing will excuse my actions and I realize that. But I will not stop trying to fix the damage I have caused.” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head at the other man.

“I’m not sure if you will be able to fix it.” They’re both quiet for a long moment before Steve speaks again, walking past his husband and towards the door.

“I think it would be best if you gave both (Y/n) and myself some space. Do not come to either of us unless we have directly summoned you.” The brunet nods, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Steve has to focus on his breathing as he walks back to your chambers, wanting to be there when you wake up and wanting to be in a better space as to not scare you.

When the door opens you’re awake, seated on your bed nursing a small cup of tea.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, dismissing Wanda with a nod. You take a deep breath and smile weakly at him.

“Better than yesterday, Your Majesty.” 

A shake of his head at the use of his title.

“Please, (Y/n). You’re my wife. You may address me by my name,” he says while stepping further into the room. 

“Steve,” you test the name, surprised at yourself for liking the way it feels rolling off your tongue.

He smiles warmly at you, sitting at the edge of your bed when you motion to it. You take a moment to really take him in as he sits in front of you.

The second King of Acadia is as gorgeous as his husband. He’s got endless blue eyes that shine with kindness, a kindness that has been shown to you only by Natalia and Wanda since you entered the Kingdom.

His frame is large and muscular, and you find yourself entranced and intimidated by him. Your brows furrow, however, when you see his split knuckles.

“You are hurt?” You ask, looking pointedly at his right hand. He instinctively clenches it into a fist then sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid I let my emotions get the better of me when I learned of what His Majesty did to you.” You frown, looking down at the porcelain cup in your grasp.

Fragile and delicate, just like you.

“My very presence drives a wedge between the two of you. For that, I am sorry.” He shakes his head, fingers coming under your chin and lifting it until you look at him. The way you flinch when he raises his hand has his heart aching.

“It is not you who has created a wedge, nor is it you who drives it between us. James is well aware of his actions and he must face the consequences. He does not get special treatment because he is King. He’s lucky I only struck him for what he’s done to you. He deserves far worse.” You shake your head, grabbing the King’s hand tightly in yours.

“Please do not punish him. I fear he may think his fears are coming true. I do not wish to replace you nor do I wish to replace him. And by punishing him more I fear he may think that that is what is happening.”

Steve’s brows pull together in confusion.

“Do you not wish for him to feel what it is you’ve felt?” You shake your head, a shaky breath leaving you as you choose your words wisely.

“I... I would not wish my treatment upon anyone. But he has made efforts to repair our relationship. I do not wish to anger him with a relationship with you. I fear that us being close may be enough to bring his anger back to the surface.”

Steve is quiet, pondering your words for a long moment before lifting your entwined hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“If he makes one hostile move towards you I will have him thrown in the dungeon. He will not bring you any more pain. I give you my word.” You nod slowly, not used to someone being so protective of you.

“Now I’m sure you need your rest, so I will not deprive you of it any longer.” He goes to stand up but you tug on his hand, not wanting him to leave just yet. His presence is refreshing. Something unlike anything you’ve experienced in years. And you do not want him to leave anytime soon.

“C-could you perhaps stay with me for a while longer? I... I value your presence. I know that I have only just met you, but you... you are a comfort in a kingdom that has brought only pain.” You don’t mean for your words to hurt him, and the sadness on his face nearly makes you regret speaking.

Until he settles back on the bed, a smile on his face as he squeezes your hand gently in both of his.

“I will stay with you until you no longer want me. This place should be a home to you, not a place of pain, and I will do all I can to ensure you feel safe and comfortable in your own Kingdom.”

The new approach has hope sparking in your belly, and you’re cautiously optimistic about your relationship with Steve. You only hope that you’ll be able to repair the one you have with James before he gets angry again.

~*~

“Is she eating?” Wanda nods, smiling at the blond king from her spot in the kitchen.

“Good. She looks ill. I want her to be healthy again. It is my goal to have her happy in her new home. Undo the damage that James caused.” Wanda sighs, shaking her head.

“They were rebuilding their relationship. Slowly but I’m sure they will have grown to love each other,” she says softly, and then it’s Steve’s turn to shake his head at her.

“It would be nothing more than love built on lies and fear. She deserves more than that.” Wanda nods, her heart heavy. She knows you haven’t been treated fairly, but she had hoped you and James would be able to build your relationship.

“Will you forgive His Majesty?” Steve sighs, not truly knowing the answer.

“I want to, but with what he did... it feels wrong to forgive him.” Wanda nods knowingly, gathering things for your lunch.

“Well, I know that the Queen is well on her way to forgiving him. I think it would do you well to forgive him. However, I have already overstepped. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go tend to my lady.”

She pauses at the doorway, looking over at the King and speaking freely for a moment. 

“I think you would do well to speak to the King with a cool head. Consider all that has happened and all that you had planned for your marriage.” She bows her head then leaves the kitchen, having given Steve many things to consider.

He stays in the room for a while longer, gathering his thoughts and trying to figure out what to do.

As he’s leaving, he nearly bumps straight into his husband.

James averts his eyes, although it pains him to do so. He wants nothing more than to devour every inch of the man before him.

He says nothing, instead, bows his head and waits for Steve to do something.

“James.” His eyes snap up, meeting the endless blues of his lover.

“Steve. H-How is she?” Steve grinds his teeth for a moment, Wanda’s words echoing in his mind before he huffs out a deep breath.

“If you would like, I will take you to see her. However, if she requests you leave, you will leave immediately. Do you understand?” James nods, his shoulders lifting slightly.

As they walk towards your chambers Steve takes a moment to take in the appearance of the brunet.

He’s got deep bags under his eyes and a heeling bruise on his cheek branching out across the bridge of his nose.

His skin is pale and almost lifeless, and Steve feels and for a moment. Until he remembers what his husband did to you.

By then they’re already at your door, far too late to turn back, and Steve knocks softly.

“My darling? May I come in?”

Your voice calls out eagerly, allowing him entrance.

In the few days since his return, he’s spent every waking moment with you, and you find yourself missing him in the few moment’s that he is not by your bedside.

He smiles at the sight of you. You’re far livelier than before, a smile on your face as he walks in.

“Good afternoon,” you say softly, your smile fading slightly as you see the man behind him.

“Your Majesty,” you greet him, bowing your head slightly.

“He is your husband, (Y/n). You may address him by his name. We would prefer it if you did.” You look between the two before nodding slowly, scooting back on your bed to make room for the two of them. 

Wanda smiles warmly at you, handing you a fresh cup of tea before excusing herself.

“May we sit?” James asks softly, motioning to your bed. You nod, taking a slow sip of tea while not taking your eyes off of the two men.

“You look well. You are eating more?” You nod, smiling at James softly.

“The same cannot be said for you,” You whisper, frowning at the bruises on his face.

“It is nothing that I do not deserve. I deserve far worse for all I have done. It is only my hope that we can grow together.” You’ve got a sad smile on your face as you look between the two of them, the tension rolling off of them in waves.

“What is it, darling?” Steve asks softly, reaching out to take your hand. You squeeze his warm hand then sigh, struggling for a moment to find the words.

“I have created a wedge between you. That is not something I ever wanted. I never wanted to come between you, nor have I ever wanted to replace either of you. I... I apologize for all that my presence here has caused.”

They both shake their heads, eyes meeting momentarily, Steve's filled with accusation while James’ are filled with guilt.

“You have done nothing wrong. That is something I want you to fully grasp.” You look at James as he speaks, heart thumping in your chest.

It’s been a while since you’ve had him so close to you and you’re not sure how you feel about it.

“Everything that has happened... it is all my doing. You have not done anything wrong. I am the one who has created a wedge between us... the one who has caused such distance. And I will spend every day trying to make up for that. I know you may not trust me or what I say, but I mean every word that I have spoken today.” You look between him and Steve, bottom lip tucked between your teeth for a moment.

“I want to trust you. I want us to be happy and I want us to have a good marriage, however, I will need time. But I do not want the two of you to be at ends with each other because of me. I fear it will cause far more conflict than it is worth.” Steve looks at you for an impossibly long moment before nodding, looking over his shoulder at where his husband is.

“I do not know how you have forgiven him, but I suppose I will try as well. We will forgive, but we will not forget.”

James nods, wanting to feel relieved but something is gnawing at his stomach.

“Your forgiveness is far more than I deserve. I will not, for as long as I live, be able to ever forgive myself for what I have done to you. The pain I have caused.” His eyes flitter down to your stomach, now devoid of the life that was growing. Devoid of the child that would’ve been his. A child that would’ve been the product of pain and of torment.

“How are you feeling, truly? I can only imagine the pain.”

You follow his gaze down to your stomach then swallow hard.

“If I may be honest with you... a small part of me is sad... but a larger part is relieved. I know it is wrong and horrid of me to think, but I am grateful to not be carrying a child that was forced upon me. It is my duty as Queen to give you heirs, and I shall. But not like that. It is too bold of me and I apologize, but if we are to make this marriage work then it is something that you must know.”

He nods easily, understanding what you mean.

“This marriage... we chose you, (Y/n). Specifically you,” Steve says softly, waiting for you to look up at him before speaking.

“We could’ve chosen any woman.” 

Upon seeing the frown on your face, James jumps in. “When he says that, he means that we had been offered wives before but none of them stood out to us. And then we were presented with you...” You look at him, confusion bringing your brows together.

“The princess of Orlen. A woman with kindness and beauty. From the way your father spoke of you, we chose you. If only to save you from a fate that he promised.”

You’re not sure how you feel about this.

“We spoke of you for weeks on end. We spoke of how we would love you, how we would treat you. How we would bed you...” A shiver races down your spine and you glance down, shaking your head.

“I-I do not think I will be ready for that for quite a while. I am sorry, but I just... I cannot. I can hardly walk without being in pain and Doctor Banner thinks that it may take weeks before I can do anything such as that.” Steve’s hand is on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“We will wait. Your body has gone through something that neither one of us could ever imagine. We will not be angry with your healing process and we will not rush it. It is as I said before, your health and happiness mean everything to me.”

James nods his agreement but can’t help feeling left out of the tender moment being shared. As much as he may try, he knows he will not be welcomed with open arms. And he doesn’t expect to be. However, it doesn’t lessen the pain. If anything, it amplifies it.

Jealousy and anger simmer deep in his core, and he has to take careful breaths to make sure he doesn’t let them show. The last thing he needs is to scare you further. And although he truly does wish to be on good terms with you, seeing you with his husband the way you are... it brings something monstrous to the front of his mind.

Something he’s only ever taken out on the battlefield.

The good part if him is afraid for your safety if he cannot reel in the beast. But the beast roars beneath the surface, ready to claw its way out and reclaim what is his.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Lullaby for the Gods

You have two options

"Stories brought on to the wind will bloom into legends in due time; An ancient tale comes whisked into the wind; In time it will grow and sprout once again." The Weaver and Nurturer of Tales, how they came to be and how they have gone.

Pairings -> Venti x God of Time (Ambiguous, Can be Reader)

Word Count -> 1976

Themes -> SCENARIOS, Background, Timeline, It's sad kinda

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event) Special slot from a special someone : not sure if they want to be tagged

Warnings -> This is my interpretation on the God of Time based on the Sacrificial Weapons Series. And since the prompt only mentions Venti, I won't focus much on their relationship with Decarabian.

Winds of the North are migrating through the crown of the continent once again. The clouds and breezes shift at the peak of day and the grass, the trees, the flowers they all sway. This was the first encounter, as one of the threads of the thousand migrating winds that is Venti, he had always been fascinated by the strong gales that covers a vast land beyond his reach. The city of Mondstadt protected by raging winds far stronger than he.

"Come now, little guy, are you not straying from your stream?" Such beaded eyes of the little sprite detaches from the crown of the North, with its giggles accompanies a sound reminiscent of bells as he nuzzles at the outstretched hand, fair and smooth. A finger consoles his little cheek as the God of Time echoes his snicker. As the sprite settles on their hand, they both spare a minute to watch the God of Storm's dominion. And then they turn to guide Venti back to his current, to his family of winds.

And the little sprite will not witness them until the second cycle of wind passes the cold land of Mondstadt.

So when the time came, several weeks after, Venti once again strays from the winds to venture to his own current. Where are the satin robes that flows with the breeze, that witnesses the rage of another God? The sprite follows tinkling of tin carried by the thousand winds, harmonizing to produce a soft and sleepy melody that lulls those to sleep.

In a distant island he finds himself upon a huge sundial atop a mostly quiet temple. And there stood again the God of Time, with a distant look over the ocean horizon, eyes clouded yet sparkling from the stars that bounced from the surface of the water. Their skin never frails nor wrinkles, hair lustrous and thick, yet their eyes carry a thousand yard stare of shrouded sadness.

"Little wind..." the sprite nuzzles against the cheek of the God, vibrating in worry as he urges them to smile. And they did, even if did not reach their eyes. "You've strayed again, your achon is far from here," cradling the elf to their neck, they turn away from the horizon to the west.

Yet when they urge him to go back, he stubbornly stays.

A stubborn wind playing around the wielder of Time itself. His courage was admirable, and he is lucky that this God is benevolent to his advances.

So they entertain Venti, and the wind begins his stories. Tales of those he'd witnessed when the wind ventures through the continent; and in every word he spills the God of Time is attentive, for when his accounts finally come to their end, Time puts into their memory for keeping. You weave the tales and I treasure them for that is my duty, they spoke with melancholy.

Decarabian is a God that loves his people more than others would know, more than the people would know. And he is also a lonely God. Perhaps it is this distance and disconnection from the world and his people that had made him naive to what he has forced upon his subjects.

The first prayer was heard beyond the wall of storms, only befalling to the ears of the God of Time and the wind spirit who were enjoying a leisurely stroll through the frozen land Andrius had covered in his territory. A man's woe for salvation of the city beyond the gales first reaches the God.

Yet they are unmoving and silent as they watch from afar the Gunnhildr.

But the wind spirit was not that, he was curious and as always he is carried away to his own feat. So without warning he strays from Time and listens to the crying one ever so patiently, and there he receives a glimpse of power that shall manifest one day to greater good.

God of Time offers a smile in the forests where they hid. But only that. For despite being the God of Time, they are solely there to protect its flow. To maintain balance and what should be.

There is nothing they can do to help the people of Mond.

"Little wind." The moniker carried a hard edge of worry unlike the other instances it was used. "The land of Decarabian is... treacherous and suffocating. You are but a tiny wind against his storms." Yet they knew such words will not remove the resolve in the tiny spirit. "Come back to me in one piece, alright? Remember your tales."

Venti softly bumped his hooded head to the God's cheek in reassurance, before he too disappears past the walls of gale front.

And so the God of Time can only do nothing but stand in wait. Like they had always been. Like they had always done. For Decarabian then, for Venti now.

"Bring forth the freedom we all desire."

Many of those that dwell the King of the North's cold wasteland once talked of an ethereal being of satin and silk, of flowing sands, that which overlooked the land of the storms with a somber look. Perhaps it was the waiting and the hoping, but many felt great semblance with the deity. Of the longing look for a distant freedom.

"Little wind," immediately after was a chorus of laughter at the irony brought upon by habits. Venti, now Barbatos with his great wings loom over the God of Time, hands outstretched to feel upon their smooth hands. "I always knew there was more to you."

"My muse," he tastes the new name with his newfound voice, and with his there was a chorus of angelic echoes. "There are festivities upon us, for the city of Mond trapped that was. The people had prepared a grand temple, for just us two Gods it is already ample."

Yet the God of Time smiled only with their lips at the mention of a shrine. You told them about me, they mused as the archon carried them both with the wind where the temple by the east cliff resides.

Give yourself some credit, the new Anemo Archon responds in light banter.

But the God of Time does not.

And so days of reenactments and performances were all that they were driwned upon. For daily, between the peak of the moon and the glimpses of the sun, devoted subjects would appease to the two Gods of Mondstadt through retelling and theatrics of their hard-earned journey to freedom.

Although they cannot glimpse upon the forms of the deities, the light giggles reminiscent of bells that comes from amusement and the flow of draping satin are enough reassurance that their important audience still lingers and listens to their offerings.

This dwelling became their place of rendezvous. And whenever the amphitheater was not crowded by devotees, a lyre plays with a melodic voice, weaving tales of Mondstadt's anew. The God of Time would be there to treasure every story that is weaved, but their subjects remember such moments in a different light: the strum of the strings and the lilt of Barbatos carries with it a hint of serenades.

It seems as tho the faceless God enjoys the Anemo Archon's tales the most.

Whenever it is the Gunnhildr's clan that performs their tale of courage in honor of defending Mondstadt, life and freedom, Barbatos' happiness was the most extraordinaire. The winds breeze by to caress everyone with comfort.

The Imunlaukr receives praise from the God of Time when they are the one on stage. Of courage and bravery, with their desire to not only protect the city of Mond but to appease the Gods, time slows when they follow their script. As if honored by time to stay and linger for the amusement.

And finally, the Lawrence clan holds with them a different reaction, for when their time has come it is quiet. Other clans would comment that perhaps the Gods do not favor their performance but they continued regardless, and they carry with them the essence of wisdom and strength, from the frozen lands to the new city. And only after they perform are they graced by the softest winds and the kisses of youngness that they carry with them even after.

This clan's performance sings with expertly woven symphonies and journeys of hardships through the cold, not harsh but comforting, soft melodies and that of longing. During their performance unbeknownst to their eyes is when the wind embraces the passage of time, where it is in its calmest moments, cradled between his arms and resting against his chest.

The bloodline of the Lawrence always ends the rituals for the morning, for the God of Time had finally found themself free from the shackles of the storms, peacefully resting in the arms of freedom. And it is in these moments that the people appreciate the lessened harshness of time.

Time is harsh and unrelenting, and should always be moving.

The God of Time protects time, nurtures time, and urges time. No force or law shall break the equilibrium of time nor tip its balance. And this unbreakable rule applies to them.

For this reason they ask one day, to the Anemo Archon, why they praise Time. What do they expect from time. And there Barbatos finally sees the burden of a thousand years, of the constraints of that whom is held down by prayers, held down by incapability.

Time only knows harshness. And they cried to the winds without restraints, for not once will they be able to gift the people that so desperately long for their blessings.

And for once, the wind was silent.

For once, the winds... understands the insanity of being one with time. A force made to be unmoved and unrelenting, to be shackled to a single tale when you are burdened with the pleas of many others.

Time is harsh, because they are meant to be.

So when the Anemo Archon finally desired rest and detachment to procure the essence of freedom, they too felt the chance to finally breathe. "Can you set up my awakening five hundred years from now?" Venti laid his head upon the lap of Time, teal eyes and smile somber yet gentle and reassuring. "Preferably at the peak of Ludi Harpastum, if you would allow." An hour glass manifests next to him, allowing his wish.

"When you wake, I will be here," they mumbled as the archon lets his eyelids rest, feeling a soft kiss to his forehead that lulls him to sleep.

"Tell me the tales like a balladeer." And he slumbers away the years.

"When I came to be, the Lawrence ruled over Mondstadt, governing with the most disgusting aristocracy. It was only right that they lost the blessings of thy winds, after all it is only for those who fought to be free," Venti sighed with pure disappointment, "Honestly."

"What happened to your Time friend, then? Did they tell you what happened during your sleep?"

The windborne bard looks at Paimon with a wide yet steeled gaze so daunting it made her squeak and hide behind the traveler. Who silently watches as Venti once again sighed and resigned to strumming his lyre.

"They're gone." No rhyme, no smiles, no cryptics.

Barbatos sought out the help of the winds of Teyvat to tell tale on the dwellings of the God of Time yet came out empty handed. And his only salvation, the oldest of the Seven, can only shake his head as he too does not know of the whereabouts of the God.

The fragments of time lingers in cursed windswept ballads and stories. And as the years go by, all worshipers and records had forgotten about the deity.

They only sing praise to the wind shrine now.

Now who shall nurture the stories brought by the winds?

I seem to have a knack for hurting Venti.

@creation-magician @boxofteenageideas @zelos-simp @ellitx @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

[smolstarthief]

Persona 5/Persona 5 Strikers: Pro-Police or Anti-Police?

Hoo boy... So this honestly has been a LONG time coming on my end because I have seen so much of that debate on social media (Twitter namely) and I can see the points of BOTH sides but there have been moments where it just got out of hand... Especially whenever people tried to put in a more grey/nuanced take only to be slammed and taken out of context. Even repeatedly mentioning the interrogation at the beginning of P5 which, I will admit has gotten tiresome. At least for me, I do still feel for Joker and I wished the game acknowledged his trauma more but there's a thing called, "beating a dead horse" and this is one along with "Haru says ACAB" in Strikers (which was done THREE TIMES in the same arc and it got annoying fast, like shut up already! We get it!). So, let's dive in a little bit:

MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!

Persona 5/Persona 5 Royal

Now let me just say I know! Police in Japan are just as bad if not worse than the West and I STILL hate the idea of Makoto wanting to become a cop for such naive reasons (especially with what happened to Sae, her own sister!)... But there are at least some of form of nuances sometimes and by that I mean, I can see what they were trying to do? I do agree that P5/P5S backpedaled SEVERELY by deciding to sweep issues under the rug after addressing them and not continuing from such. In fact I feel like it could have been a hell of a lot better. But P5 did something different compared to previous games and addresses the issues DIRECTLY right at the beginning of said game! It was tense and horrifying, but needed. Of course... They then sweep it under the rug and act like nothing traumatic happened to our protag which is NOT a good look at all and I'm still pissed off about it. In the main game's case, it's portrayed as more black and white with only a SMALL amount of nuance like that cop that was trying to help Futaba when she went out by herself and got lost (which people ignore entirely by the way). So I CAN see where people got the "anti-police" message from... But that's only the tip of the iceberg as it's ACTUALLY more about Systematic Corruption, not exactly or JUST police corruption. Namely in politics with Shido and the Conspiracy (which is apparently still somewhat around in Strikers until Owada's downfall) controlling everything all the way to law enforcement. The force had been basically under his payroll (including the corrupt SIU Director before his death) whether by force or not (mostly not in this case though). Now honestly, the police depicted there are undoubtedly rotten to the core save for a VERY SMALL handful (the cop that was trying to help Futaba which, again, gets ignored by several). Look at the interrogators who ruthlessly beat and drug a minor without any second thought or remorse for example. But again, the black and white narrative the game kept unwittingly doing ended up being to its detriment in a way. I'm not defending those assholes AT ALL! They deserved every punishment given to them! But for a game that goes on about grey morality... It doesn't quite deliver on that. Still though, it does emphasize that it's more of the fault of the whole corrupt system, not just one part of it. There needs to be change and reform which is what our MCs were trying to do in a way (more like inspiring change but still). In the end, it's all about the following:

Corruption and abuse of power.

Again the police depicted in this game were incompetent at best, corrupt at worse with very few silver linings. But it's not just them but rather the one person responsible for the whole mess. Who had them under his payroll? Who controlled them and by extension all of Tokyo? Who was willing to dispose of anyone who "outlives their usefulness" or is perceived as a threat to what he wants (including his own family)?

SHIDO AND BY EXTENSION THE CONSPIRACY

Bottom line: They are definitely a problem but it's not just them.

"But, Joker and his trauma?"

I definitely understand that and still do. I fully believe he has and still has trauma with the police. Easy! But... I do feel like people go too far with it sometimes. It's hard to explain but there have been moments where people either use it as a justification/argument against someone trying to provide a more nuanced view of things or... Dare I say, depict him like a "uwu soft traumatized boi." Like I said, it's hard to explain on my end so feel free to ignore it. Everyone deals with trauma differently so there is STRONG chance that I'm overanalyzing it. I just remember moments where I just feel a little, I guess annoyed? I'm not sure exactly but final thing: I understand what he went through and I can't imagine how long it would take to recover but I hope he DOES overcome it.

"Sae? Akechi?"

Yep, even though their jobs are different, they are by and large members of law enforcement no matter how you spin it. Both were broken in a way. Akechi is pretty easy to explain with how Shido negatively impacted his life but not much about Sae, who dealt with sexism/misogyny at her workplace along with the trauma of her father's (also a cop) death. She no doubt had some idealism only to be hit with the fact that she's gonna have to use underhanded/downright illegal tactics to get by and even rise up the ranks. She, therefore ended up (well, nearly) corrupted herself before coming to her senses. That's honestly one of the BIGGEST REASONS why I felt like Makoto joining the force to become a police commissioner isn't a good, even a downright naïve, idea. I honestly would have been somewhat fine with it if it weren't for that fact among other things. Regardless of her willpower, it will go south fast.

Now... Onto Strikers!

Persona 5 Strikers

Since the game came out and I started playing it, I still feel like the system is still beyond saving, especially when attempting to do it from the inside. But I don't mind the added nuances that P5 didn't do much of. It's still continuing the critiques, just shows more of what does happen within said system and even has an ACTUAL officer (Zenkichi) say, "Yeah, my job sucks, everyone's corrupt, there are much better ways to do things and make a change but not this. I'm only staying because I have a daughter to take care of and it's all I know. I'm no different from them." Was it all handled well? I wouldn't say "yes" (Joker's trauma is BARELY addressed at all of course) but a little better than what P5's narrative did which only addressed the issues but not exactly follow up on them. Now to be fair... In the system, regardless of where you live, any one within it who remotely tries to do something or speak against it either lose their jobs or even go "missing" irl. Those have happened and it's more proof that yeah, it's rotten to the core. There's no denying it but regardless, that's NOT what the game is about at all. At least that's what I feel about it as it's only PART of the narrative. I think Zenkichi puts it best here:

Speaking of Zenkichi... Oh boy... Now I definitely understand some of the criticisms with him but honestly, he was the best written (PT) character I've ever encountered! He was honestly the perfect representation of those that genuinely want to help and do good, only to be held back by an extremely harsh reality. It was already hinted at with Sae but here? It 100 percent confirms just how harsh and even cutthroat it can be if it could break someone's idealism so badly. Even Kaburagi of all people thinks the same thing Zenkichi said:

Then there's his past and it's a tragic one! But let's look more at the decisions he ended up making:

While it was no doubt done to protect his daughter, he ended making a selfish decision along with a selfless one (which was brilliant!) with not only allowing the cover up of his wife's death and denying justice for her, but also ruining an innocent person and their family's lives.

It's horrible, but also... There's a grey area/nuance as with the rest of his character. It was both understandable, but also wrong as he, as Akane's Shadow puts it:

He sacrificed his values, his morals, all for the sake of having a peace of mind. Speaking of Akane, she's also an interesting case in a way that she more or less perfectly represents the more "black and white" views on justice in general. Namely the more toxic/biased kind. Her reasons are also understandable but she was also acting selfishly by only focusing on how SHE was effected by Aoi's death and not even considering those that were also grieving her death and/or that people grieve/handle grief differently than her. But back on topic.

Her own views and beliefs that law enforcement basically SHOULD be dismantled (mostly out of said childish bias and black & white views) and it's framed as WRONG and it's very much correct on that. Chaos and order are two sides of the same coin, one can't exist without the other. When I say ACAB, I'm calling for reform, defund, have the corrupt held accountable for EVERYTHING and even face jail time for their crimes! Defund the police, have the ones that arrest, harm, and even murder out of bias (race, gender, etc.), lose their badges/jobs and locked up, make improvements! It's saying that there IS still corruption out there and there's no denying it. But fully eliminating the law in general will just lead to more problems. Now granted, she's young and clearly doesn't fully understand why those views are ultimately wrong but still... It was a very interesting subject to tackle and I feel like they handled it well.

Now back to Zenkichi, he was at first in denial about his decisions ultimately being the wrong ones too and even tries to justify it. Of course, his Shadow said otherwise and that was when he finally admitted that he really did act no different from the criminals he despised. But it also doesn't mean he can't redeem himself and that's what ultimately leads to his new resolve:

That right there along with everything else! There's the nuance! And ultimately despite some hiccups, Strikers handled the grey morality and nuance beautifully! Especially regarding law enforcement! Dare I say, even better than the base game! It continues the critiques with no problem but also showing different sides and areas of it! There is good and evil, but what about in-between? What about the more greyer area? It still says that there IS corruption, sometimes even beyond saving but... Sometimes a small silver lining is hidden somewhere.

Now, the ultimate question:

Is P5 & P5S (namely the latter) Pro-Police or Anti-Police?

Personally, my answer is this: Neither.

Why? What theme do they both have in common?

JUSTICE

Someone puts it best on Twitter that the games are more pro-justice and I fully agree!

P5/P5S gives the idea about following your OWN justice, your OWN moral code and rules, paving your OWN path and not let others dictate it! That's what the MCs ultimately start to learn in both games. Therefore it's pro-justice. Again, do I agree that the system is beyond saving? Yeah. Do I at least acknowledge and understand what the narratives are trying to say and nuances regardless even if I don't agree with some writing decisions (ex: Makoto wanting to become a commissioner despite everything)? Also yes. But at the same time, don't judge a book by its cover for other people (not just law enforcement and politics mind you). Especially some that genuinely DO want to help at best. That there is nuance and greyness, just have to look closely. Some of the MCs are still TERRIBLY written and executed (even annoying) but the message was still somewhat there.

Final Thoughts

Now I fully understand how you all feel of course! I still believe in ACAB and even I agree that maybe I'm one to talk and have a lot more to learn about the world... This is just my own attempt at putting my own two cents in. If you disagree, that's fine! This is just what I've felt should be at least talked about more often. And I tried to phrase it as best as I can without coming off as insensitive or ignorant and if I did, I sincerely apologize for that! I'm not trying to say, come off as a "bootlicker" or any of the sort. I'm just trying show discuss more of the grey areas and nuances that are, more often than not, constantly overlooked. How one interprets both games is ultimately up to them. You, the player. And this is my own interpretation. Simple as that. I hope you all have a good day/afternoon/evening!

[venusdeus]

Court of Kings - Chapter 3

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut?

Word count: 2380

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: This is Part 3. To start from the prologue, you can use this link. This chapter finally ties into the events of the prologue.

Masterlist

Part 2 <…> Part 4

“Do you play cards your Highness?” the Mistress of the House, Countess of Webstier asked a few hours into the journey.

After a strenuous fifteen day ride up north you have finally arrived at the border that separated the two kingdoms, yours and Seijoh, at the first light of dawn.

When Tooru left two weeks into his arrival you were not given sufficient time to stomach the idea of your upcoming union with the rude prince before you were cast into a carriage with two of your ladies in waiting, chosen by the trusted council to spy on you no doubt, and sent on your marry way, followed by countless guards and staff.

You did not confide in them of course, for you could not. If you were to even say anything negative about the smallest thing, you knew they would carry it back. They already disliked you enough as it was, as to them you were a spoiled princess that did not appreciate her status and her wonderous fate. Oh, how they wished they were betrothed to such a fine man, the most desired bachelor in this part of the world no doubt, and they could not seem to stop talking about it.

The talks bordered on being completely inappropriate most the time, comments on his looks and his skills in different ways thrown out constantly, followed with giggles. So, you sat there silently, looking out the window and occasionally tasting the wine that seemed to be never ending.

The only time you had some peace and quite was when the others were asleep, but then again you gave up your own rest to be able to listen to your thoughts for a short while.

So, when the carriage doors opened at the border for your official handover you were quick to follow. And when they told you that your ladies could not come with you any further, you did not feel disappointed. They were never really your friends anyway.

You thought with the short time between your leave and your fiancé’s, you would have arrived at Seijoh around the same time, or maybe even caught up halfway. Against your expectations however, you were told that the Prince arrived at the kingdom a few days ago but travelled west to pay his respects to his late uncle who passed away three weeks prior when he was visiting your court, while you still had half a month to go.

It was because you traveled heavy with gifts and all the staff that accompanied you, the Countess said once you were introduced. She was an older woman with a stern tone and frown that never left her face. Her thin eyes looked as cold as the harsh winters that her nation was famous for. It was evident that she or any other woman that was assigned to accompany you to the palace did not approve of you. It was not their place to comment on it of course, but you could see it in their manners.

See that they thought you were a child when they took away your dark red dress that they said was behind the current style before dressing you in light blues inside a tent that was fashioned in the middle of the woods where the handover took place. You could see it when they put your hair in a tight bun that sat awkwardly against your face. When they tightened the corset to the point of taking your breath away. And you could see it when they put countless pearls and diamonds against your neck.

You thought you resembled one of your dolls that sat in your room back home with all the unnecessary display of wealth that were thrown on you.

“I’m afraid not.” You lied meeting her eyes “I prefer chess.”

“You must learn soon than. It is quite popular among the ladies at court.” She smiled cockily.

Just as you have crafted your false persona that of a naïve child back at your old home, you thought to continue the act in your new one. It also helped that when you robbed all of them on the card table from their money, they blamed it on luck. The first few times of course, as they would get used to it in no time just like they did in the past.

“Once we arrive you will be presented to the King first. You will not meet his Highness Prince Tooru for another week until the official ball to celebrate your engagement.” She said when you were two days away from your arrival at the palace.

They were using his first name, you pondered. You always made it a point to call him with his title, or simply as Oikawa, but his subjects did not deem it inappropriate to use his first name.

You knew there would be a difference between the cultures of two nations but the people at the Seijoh court seemed to be too unrestrained in their escapades as well as their morals. Although, it was a stark contrast to how they behaved towards you. This cleared the doubts that clouded your mind over the two-week journey from the border to the capital. They were cold to you because you were a foreigner.

This did not dampen your mood in the slightest. On the contrary, suddenly you were excited to be introduced to the court, a sly smirk forming on your face. You wanted to see the reaction the ladies would have when they learnt their beloved bachelor prince was now betrothed to an ignorant foreign girl. Would they be appalled? Angry? It made you giddy to anticipate their reaction.

On the last day of the ride however, right after the outskirts of the capital became visible to you, a plan formed in your head.

You would simply leave.

Bid your time until all the official appearances were over and done with and just leave. They certainly would not expect you to make an escape alone in a foreign land so you would use this as an opportunity. You had a week to learn your way around the palace.

Of course, it was never your intention to be gone forever. You knew better than trying your chances as a woman in the outside world all alone. It was to stall enough time until the wedding arrangement would be delayed. Where you would go however, was a topic that you needed to reflect more upon.

The solution though, came to your feet without you even trying, in the form of a ditzy little thing called Lady Alisa.

She was introduced to you at your arrival to the palace to accompany you till you were to be presented to your fiancé once more, this time formally. You were yet to be given your own ladies in waiting so they opted to bring a temporary solution with this tall and beautiful blonde.

“I live in our estate two-hour ride away from here towards the east, with my mother and my younger brother. Father passed away not long ago you see.” She rattled on as you walked through the corridors “My brother inherited the title after him. Now he goes by Earl Lev, I hope I can introduce you at the ball. But of course, you could visit our estate whenever you wanted to your Highness!”

You did not sense any malicious intent or lies behind her words. She simply was an innocent woman that did not understand that a Princess that were to be married in a weeks’ notice to the Crown Prince would never be able to visit her.

But you were thankful, as her innocence gave you the perfect escape. They would believe that you, a credulous girl, decided to pay a last-minute visit to her newfound friend who was as gullible as she was, to sooth the excitement that was to come. So, you played the part of a good friend.

When they found you, surely the wedding day would almost be over, and with all the guests on their way back home they would be forced to delay it for another month or two. They would never say that the princess was gone of course. Probably they would make up an excuse that would save them face. And you did not care for their reputation.

Just like how Oikawa did not care for yours when he insisted on being alone at the greenhouse.

You would leave the palace the night before your wedding by hiding from the watchful eye of the guards and take the carriage to the estate of Lady Alisa. Or at least that was the plan you made in haste.

You spent a week as a mere guest before your engagement was announced in a feast given in your honor on the seventh day, followed by a ball in which everyone who was anyone attended. That is when you were formally presented to Oikawa where you walked hand in hand to the floor where you had the first dance of the night.

“I remember you telling me that you would never marry me.” You whispered in his ear when you were sure no one else could hear “How sure you were of yourself.”

“The night is still young dear.” He replied, “Anything could happen.”

His answer sent a shiver down your spine, fearing he might have figured your scheme. But how could he when you never told anyone.

You were right about the reaction of others of course. Some ladies were left in tears when they were supposed to smile and clap right after the announcement. One even swooned! Although it was entertaining to watch you thought, tomorrow they could rejoice.

You were quite lucky to be given a room on third floor, not too high from the ground, and what is more right above the road that led to the stables. You waited until what you thought was a time that all the guests and the royal family went to bed to start your mischief.

You refused the maids that wanted to help you change out of your dress to your nightgown, saying you wanted to be left alone, after all when you appeared on Lady Alisa’s doorstep you had to look presentable.

Tying the linens around your bed together, once the palace engulfed in silence, you swung them over the open window in a desperate attempt. It was the only way to leave your room without the guards that were situated behind your door noticing.

Just when you wobbled your way down to the second floor, your arms shaking from carrying your weight, you were startled from a noise coming above you where others resided. It did not take long before a lengthy rope was tossed to the garden below. Shocked to silence over the possibility of being caught by palace guards you seized your movements.

Nothing, however, could prepare you for the eyes you caught as the person responsible for your concern made his way down to your level. He looked as terrified as you were when you came face to face, momentarily losing his balance before quickly gaining his posture by placing his feet on the walls, his hands gripping your sheets.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he hissed.

Apparently not only did Oikawa have similar feelings towards his soon to be wife as you did to him, but he also had the same idea on how to escape his current position, as he was trying to leave the castle in his nightgown by dangling himself out the windows of the tower to reach the stables.

Even though you wanted to answer him with a question of your own you could feel the strength leaving your body.

He must have seen your torment however as he started climbing down quickly.

“Try to come down slowly, I will catch you at the end.” He whispered as you tried to balance yourself over the wall.

“Bend your knees and let go.” He said once you were close enough “Do it now Princess.”

Silenced into submission over his kind voice you let go of the sheets only to be caught by strong arms followed by a grunting sound.

You took a deep breath when your feet touched the ground. Your newfound relief did not last long however as Oikawa caught your wrist in a bear like grip and turned your body around to face his.

“Now tell me you insufferable woman what do you think you are doing?” he spat lifting both your hands over your head, practically pinning you to the palace walls.

“What were you doing you bear of a man?” you gritted your teeth “Let me go you are hurting me!”

He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted as both of your heads snapped right, towards the sound of a loud gasp that came just next to you, his hands quickly letting you go.

And there stood a group of twenty to thirty guests that were in attendance that day laughing and jeering while coming down the gardens, most probably from a walk to sober up.

“Love birds couldn’t wait till tomorrow evening!” a man yelled behind the group making you and Oikawa jump away from each other “To be young and in love!”

And that is how to both your horror, your entire plan crumbled to the pieces and the rumor that the naïve foreign Princess and the insatiable rake Prince Tooru were a love match started in a single night.

Reblogs are appreciated! English is not my first language so if you see any mistakes let me know.

I would love it if you could give me feedback! Thank you!

Disclaimer: No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want me to tag you. If your name is in bold it means I can’t tag you.

@sassyglassesbunny @triskoof @m-a-r-i-a-s-b-l-o-g @heroesfan101​ 

[ongaku-ato-kakikomi]

Hello! Could you write jade x fem reader where the reader’s parents are homophobic (christian,conservative) and find out you’re dating when she is over? sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, if it does please ignore me!!

(A/N): Hello, dear! Sorry for how long this took me to write. I hope you’ll like this little angst I created for you nonetheless. Enjoy! <3

Pairing: Jade West x Fem! Reader

You should have known that the dinner wasn’t going to end well.

Your parents have always shown their disappointment in your ‘friendship’ with Jade, both not liking her preferred style of clothes nor her ‘bad girl takes no crap from anyone’ attitude. They thought she was too violent, too disrespectful, but most importantly, too much of a bad influence on you. They couldn’t stop you from seeing her at school and hang out with her out of class, especially when you were all in the same group of friends, but it didn’t stop them from bad-mouthing her every single time she would leave your house or they would randomly meet her in town. However, they had somehow started to become more open to getting to know her for the past few weeks, your mother saying things like “Maybe we should give her a chance” and your father replying stuff like “I wanna make sure that this girl isn’t a bad influence for my daughter”. They ended up asking you if she could come for dinner one time to have a meaningful conversation, and that gave you enough hope to think that maybe they would accept the fact that she was your friend. 

She was way more than your friend, of course. You two had secretly been dating for months now, your friends always covering up for you two by ‘pretending’ to go on a large group hangout only to leave you alone for your date. And though your parents were starting to accept her in your life, you were pretty sure that they would become more radical and violent with you than simply bitter if they were to learn that she was your girlfriend.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Jade absolutely despised your parents, and she never tried to hide from you or from anyone else. She hated how conservative they were in every single aspect of their lives, forcing you to enter the typical mold instead of letting you shine your own way. She knew that they weren’t totally proud of you entering Hollywood Arts, even if only the most talented people can enter that school. But she loved you too much to ruin your only chance for her to let your parents hang out with her more, and so she tried her best to grind her teeth and fake smiles during dinner instead of saying what she thinks. 

You couldn’t hold her hand while you were eating, it would have been too obvious that something was going on, but you did your best to let her know that you appreciated her efforts simply by linking your leg with hers. It helped ease down her anger when your father made awful comments about people your age, and it definitely helped get rid of her irritation when your mother made a not-so-subtle comment about how you needed to bring her out for shopping.

She made it through dinner wonderfully, and you were so hopeful about the future for the two of you: Your parents will let her hang out with you as much as you want without so much saying a ‘mean’ comment, at least not as much as they already do. And then, after a few more years of hiding your relationship from them, you’ll be able to get out of here peacefully and move in with Jade in a little apartment while you'll live your dreams in LA. Maybe you’ll never see them again once get there, but why stay close to people who wouldn’t even accept you for who you are anyway?

Of course, everything crashed down because of a tiny mistake. It was a slip of the tongue, something Jade didn’t even intend to say in front of your parents. She wanted the pepper across the table from where you were and accidentally called you ‘babe’ when she asked you for it. Something very simple, really. Something that you didn’t even realize that had happened until you saw your father’s face turning to a boiling red.

You remember him screaming, but cannot quite remember what he said. All you know is that Jade didn’t let him get the upper hand and started screaming back, the two of them standing up at some point to scream even louder at each other’s face. You think your mother started to cry at some point, asking God what she’s done wrong for you to ‘turn our like this’. You remember how that was the thing that made you snap yourself, harsh words thrown out of your mouth towards your mother for all the bullshit emotions she and your father made you feel because of their Middle Age way of thinking. 

After your mother slapped you in the face, Jade tried to throw herself at her, screaming bloody murder to try and protect you from her. It didn’t take long before your father threw her out of the house, screaming at her that she will never ever see you again and that you’ll be transferred out of Hollywood Arts the very next week. 

She couldn’t do anything to stop it, and you couldn't do anything to stop it.

You ended being locked up into your room upstairs while your parents discuss what they were going to do with you, your mother confiscating your phone, and throwing out the idea of sending you to a ‘converting camp’ if you ever talked to her harshly again. Those words only made your tears grow faster as you hid under your bed covers to try to deny this whole situation, not quite believing that your parents would prefer to torture you in becoming straight instead of simply accepting you for who you are. 

You only wanted one thing right here and there: to get out of that place, to find your way back into Jade’s arms, and maybe start your little dream earlier than you wanted, but would you even be able to do it? You didn’t know if you were strong enough.

Toc toc toc.

The sound of something hitting glass makes your head look out from the covers, a confused frown on your red teary face. It’s another few seconds before you realize that someone may have just knocked on your window, your confusion only increasing seeing as your room is on the second floor. You don’t wait to stand up from your bed though, walking towards the origin of the sound only for your eyes to widen once you see Jade waiting for you to open the window.

“Jade!” You whisper her name as you open the window, not wanting your parents to hear you talk. “What are you doing here?”

You feel your tears come back when she throws her arms around you, holding you as close as you possibly can. “I came to pick you up.”

“What?” 

“I called Beck. He’s waiting for us in his car a few streets away.” She frees you enough to look into your eyes, anger and worry both mixing together on her features. “You’re gonna make your bags and come with me, okay? You can either stay at my house or in Beck’s trailer, I don’t care. All I know is that I love you and that there is no way that I’m gonna let you stay with these assholes.”

You give out a small giggle, your eyes sweetening despite the pain staying inside your chest. “You really came back for me?”

“Of course I did.” She gently holds your head before she kisses your lips passionately, your eyes closing for a moment to take it in before she parts away. “Now go get your stuff, babe. Then we’ll go kick ass.”

You don’t wait any other second before you rummage through your room to make your bags as quietly as possible, Jade helping you the best that she can. It only takes around ten minutes to get about everything that you can get in this one tiny place, your girlfriend promising that you’ll get the rest of your stuff back eventually, then you both fled out of your window and into the night.

You should have known. With Jade by your side, you’re strong enough to do anything.

[i-cant-type-help]

One hand One heart

(Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Summary: Draco and Y/N recite their vows whilst they still have the chance. Based off of ‘One hand One heart’ from West Side Story

Warnings: Angst, death, reference to love making hehe

Word Count: 2600

A/N: I am a theatre major, a musical fic was bound to come eventually. I was listening to west side story and I noticed how sad this song was and how well it would work with a character dying in their loves arms and bam this came. I proof read this at 4 in the morning so if there is an error you know why.

Draco ran through the destroyed halls of Hogwarts, calling your name frantically. He dodged oncoming spells and waded his way through the debris that was collapsing around him. All he could focus on was finding you, he didn't have time to look at the dead bodies at his feet or the people fighting around him.

He was becoming panicked now, finding it hard to breath as his chest tightened continuously. Draco called out your name again, screaming it so desperately that his throat burned. When you didn't reply once again, he broke down into sobs, clutching desperately at his chest in defeat.

"Draco." A female voice said softly behind him. Draco didn't have the energy to look up, "I think I saw her on the third floor."

"Don't talk to him, Hermione, we need to go." Another voice said, full of panic and a slither of disgust.

Draco stood up immediately and ran to the third floor, feeling adrenaline rush through him as he anxiously awaited seeing you again after so long. He prayed to Merlin that you were okay, that he would get there to see you healthy with bruises or grazes at the very most. After that he would be able to protect you, he would make sure you didn't get hurt and when this was all over he would make sure that he would never leave you again in his life, not like he had before this.

But of course, when Draco saw you lying there, your face scrunched up in pain, he knew he had been much too optimistic. It seemed you had been caught up in the destruction of one of the walls, as your legs were trapped under piles of debris. He also noticed there was blood gushing violently out of your right leg as there was a large piece of glass wedged into the skin.

You weren't even crying. You just lay there, face pale and growing paler by the second and body covered in dust. You barley moved except from the little rise and fall of your chest as you took in harsh and faltering breaths. Draco froze for the first few moments, his mind unable to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. He noticed his hands were shaking slightly first and then his whole body began to shake, rapidly. His heart plummeted through his stomach and his body moved to your side automatically.

You didn't notice him until he let out a painful whimper of your name, "Y/N". You snapped your head to the side quickly in disbelief, causing your body to twist violently. Instantly you cried out in pain, causing Draco to drop down to his knees and pull your body onto his bended knees.

"Draco" You gasped, gazing up at his face lovingly. It had been so long. Too long. But you were so glad he had found you. You scanned his face a few times, taking it in his stunning features that you had missed. You stared into his eyes, watching as small tears fell from them.

"Stop frowning, baby. You know you'll get wrinkles" You breathed with a small smile on your face. You lifted your hand to his face and stroked his cheek softly with your thumb. Draco sighed and nuzzled himself into your hand for a few moments of content before panic set into his eyes again.

"Y/N.W-What happened?" He stuttered, cupping your face into his hands and caressing your cheekbones, "I-I don't know what to do. I lost my mother's wand and I can't lift the rubble by myself I- "

You shushed Draco by lifting a finger to his lips, "Don't say anything, Draco. Please, just hold me. I've missed you so much". You nuzzled yourself closer to him to provoke him. Draco responded to this the way you wanted as he used his arms to scoop your upper body and pull you close to him in a cradle position. You rested your lower back on his legs and pressed your head on his chest.

The pain was unbearable, but with Draco holding you tight and the both of you looking intently into each other's eyes, you knew it was okay. As long as he was there.

"Y/N" He sighed, "What am I going to do now?". More tears slipped from his eyes and you raised your arm to stroke them away, but a sudden rush of pain hit you and your body convulsed in response. Draco felt you move in his arms and he squeezed you tighter, watching helplessly as you breathed through the pain.

"Do you remember what the last thing you said to me was?" You smiled, gazing up at him through hazy eyes. Draco thought for a few moments, his brows creasing in concentration before realisation hit him. He laughed for a few seconds before he began to cry again, sobs falling from his mouth as he remembered the last time he saw you. You looked so good, so beautiful, so healthy. And here you were now, quivering and bleeding out in his arms.

You frowned at his reaction and used your energy to stroke his hair for a few seconds whilst he cried. You arm soon became too heavy though and you lowered it back down again before speaking, "You said to me, 'I'm going to marry you someday'". You paused and Draco looked down to see you were lying in his arms with your eyes closed with content.

"Tell me what it would have been like, Draco" You whispered.

Draco paused for a few seconds before speaking, "What it is going to be like, Y/N. I am going to marry one day". You simply hummed in response before Draco let out a shaky breath, continuing on.

"It's going to be amazing, Y/N." Draco breathed, his voice gentle, "We'll get married in Paris, because I know you've wanted to visit since you were seven and I'll buy you whatever dress you want, I won't care about the cost. And then you'll probably shout at me for not caring about the cost but that won't matter on the day. What will matter is when I first see you walking down the isle with your dad, and I'll just know that I am the luckiest man alive. And I'll know that I love you so much, just like I do now and will forever. And then we'll be married, finally. Then I will make love to you of course" He said the last part with a laugh which you returned.

"I trust there will be lots of love making from that point on?" You giggled.

"Why, of course." He grinned, stroking your arm as he continued, "Then that will lead to lots of mini Dracos and Y/Ns with my hair, obviously. We both know I have the best hair out of the two of us, although yours is a strong contender. And we'll spend every single moment together, I'll never leave you alone again. I'll take you everywhere you've ever wanted and spoil you like a princess. And it still won't even come close to what you deserve".

"I can't wait, Draco" You cooed, staring into his pale eyes. He smiled for a few more moments before his face dropped again. He looked down your body and his body froze when he saw how much more blood you had lost since he had found you. You quickly turned his head towards you again with your palm and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm dying, Draco" You muttered sadly, although a smile still rested on your lips.

"Don't say that Y/N, please" Draco begged, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you closer into his chest and stroked your hair lightly.

"I want you to do something for me" You questioned.

"Anything for you, doll, anything" He nodded frantically.

"You remember those vows, right? The ones in that book from when we were younger" You asked, and Draco smiled sadly in response. Of course he remembered, reading was his favourite part of the day when he was younger, he got to spend it with you.

"Do them with me" You choked, tears starting to fall down your face now as the pain became worse; almost unbearable and Draco's face was becoming paler by the minute. He breathed in for a few seconds and closed his eyes. This was gruelling for Draco. His love was bleeding out in his arms and all she wanted was to hear the wedding vows that she would never get the chance to live out. It was too much to bear for him, his emotions were mumbled, and his brain felt dead, all he could think about was you and how surreal this was to him. But he had to do this, for you. So, with a shaky voice, he began.

"I, Draco, take thee, Y/N." You smiled at his response and he sent you a forced smile in response, stroking the top of your head.

"I, Y/N, take thee, Draco" You continued as one of Draco's tears damp tears fell onto the creases in your forehead.

"For richer, for poorer"

"In sickness and in health"

"To love and to honour "

"To hold and to keep"

"From each sun to each moon"

"From tomorrow to tomorrow"

"From now to forever"

You paused, a hesitant breath leaving your mouth to steady yourself.

"Till death do us part" You said finally, a shiver running through you. Draco gulped a dry lump in his throat and  slipped his ring off of his finger with a struggle, before sliding it down your finger. You smiled at the sight of his family ring on your shaking hand. It was much too big enough for you and it rested loosely on your finger but you didn't much care, you couldn't think of a better wedding ring.

"With this ring, I thee wed" Draco gently, bringing you closer to his chest and placing a small kiss on your head.

"With this ring, I thee wed" You finished, a warm swelling feeling growing in you. You had married your best friend, your love, your Draco. It wasn't what either of you had dreamed, but it was more than enough for the two of you. You began to take off Draco's ring, moving to place it back onto his hand, but Draco stopped you. He gently pulled your right hand away and slid the ring back down onto your finger. He then lifted your hand to his mouth and lovingly pressed slow kisses along your knuckles and traced his lips along your fingertips.

Draco clasped your hand around his own and interlaced your fingers together, relishing the feeling of your soft skin stroking his hand. You shivering hand relaxed in his as you felt his thumb stroke your palm.

"Make of our hands one hand" Draco breathed, continuing to recite the story. You squeezed his hand and watched intently as he continued to speak lovingly to you, your eyes never breaking contact. "Make of our heart one heart. Make of our vows one last vow."

He closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again and gazing into your watery but still beautiful eyes, "Only death will part us now". His voice cracked, and his shoulders began to shake again.

"Make of our lives one life" You whispered caringly, hoping to ease his mind again with the story, "Day after day, one life".

"Now it begins, now it starts" You beamed confidently, your voice becoming louder as you became more excited with the idea of a life shared between the two of you, "One hand one heart". A sudden sharp pain shot through your body and immediately your voice faltered once again and your back arched to help the pain.

Draco opted to drop your hand and instead wrapped his spare arm around your front, holding you down making sure you didn't hurt yourself in further as he shushed you quietly. He watched with panicked eyes as your hissing stopped and you slumped back into his cradling arms. You noticed the worried look on his face and caressed his hair for a few seconds before it became too tiresome.

"Even death won't part us now" You said reassuringly, correcting his phrase from earlier.

"I love you" Draco puled.

"I love you" You whimpered back, lifting your head to place a light kiss onto his lips. Draco pressed his hand to the back of your neck for support, before pulling you back in for a longer kiss.

You savoured it all, the way his hand stroked the back of your head, the way his lips felt against your own; they were warm and soft and moulded perfectly to yours and the way he twisted his head slightly to deepen the kiss when he let out a low groan. But, most importantly, you savoured him. How it felt to have him hold you, touch you, kiss you so gently and carefully. The way little little gusts of air hit your face as he breathed through his nose and the way his hair tickled your forehead when he shifted slightly. Merlin, you would miss it so much.

You pulled away eventually, feeling heavier and weaker than when you had first started kissing. You kept your head lifted for a few more seconds to allow Draco to press loving kisses along your jawline, before finally slumping your head against his chest once again.

You spoke the last part in unison, both of you holding each other tightly for the last time and running your eyes over each other's flush faces whilst you still could, "Make of our lives one life. Day after day, one life".

"Now it begins, now we start" You both smiled weakly, but your voice was becoming a lot quieter and your eyes began to flutter closed every few seconds as you felt yourself grow heavier. Draco felt it too, as he shook you lightly and pressed you even closer to him. He carried on to speak the words loudly, encouraging you to do the same.  

"One hand, one heart" Draco spoke quietly, feeling his heart skip and fresh tears spring to his eyes as he watched you only mouth along, not having the energy to speak anymore. You instead focused your energy on lifting your head up slowly and inching your face towards his own. Draco watched helplessly as your face met his and your lips ghosted his lips, you were so close to kissing him goodnight. You moved inwards slightly, your lips touching for less than a second before you slumped back into his arms and your breath stopped. You lay dead in Draco's arms.

Draco shook you for a few seconds before letting out a pained scream of desperation, bringing your slumped body completely into his chest and clawing at you for help. He let out a few more wails, overcome with mourning and anger. He wept over your body for a time, he couldn't say how long. Draco refused to leave you, he had made that mistake before and he wouldn't do it again. He knew his family would be looking for him and he knew there was a war happening a few miles away from him but he couldn't care about anything but you. He would gladly get killed in the raging war around him if it meant he got to stay with your body.  

After a while, he bowed his head and pressed a kiss onto your forehead. Draco leaned down to your ear and whispered through his tears,

"Even death won't part us now"

[that-lieutenant]

Of the relationship between Mairon and the orcs

An assortment of various of my HCs in one shot format i guess

[This is my first time writing fanfic (whaaat) and i sadly don‘t have an ao3 account yet (but i‘ll get to it once my personal life isn‘t hell anymore) so please consider giving this some love :) ]

Also: this is heavily influenced by @lemurious writing (because all my silm interpretations nowadays are, i just love their content ahh)

His people.

His headstrong, steadfast, steel hard, loyal, ingenious, beautiful people.

When he first came upon them, their bodies had already adapted perfectly to the cold northern tundra of their homeland. Thick grey skin, heavy hair, stocky build.

The wars would add countless scars and burns and limbs of metal.

But that was later.

When he first met his people what was war to them? To him? Who knew then about the horrors they would be forced to face at the hands of the other species of Arda? At a time when they did not even know there were other species.

When he first came upon his people he thought they were the firstborn children Eru had shown the Ainur in their vision. He thought he had been successful in discovering them first, before the other Valar could. He had been so relieved that they would be spared a life in the stifling superficial horror that was Valinor.

And they really are the firstborn. These other, warm skinned, bright eyed, spindly thin creatures that came pouring back from west a couple centuries later, who were they but Valarin lackeys, transformed beyond recognition? And then they demanded land and loyalty and called their primogenitors disfigured and corrupted.

He knows now that he should not have been so surprised back then that these usurpers had shown themselves to have come with the blessing of Illuvatar. After all what were firstborn to Eru? Truly, what had been He Who Arises In Might, the firstborn of the Ainur, what had been his people, the firstborn of his children, to Eru?

The actions of this absentee god would speak clear words in the following millennia, they would come to learn.

When he first came to meet the true firstborn, when he lived among them, when he learned their customs, their language, their love and he found connections so deep they would fuel him for ages to come, that was when he knew he had found his people. And together with their leaders and his own brethren they were able to lay the foundations for a culture that would thrive in spite of its creator and the eternal war this creator perpetuated.

In merely a few centuries, together they were able to develop technologies that would not be seen again the following age.

And then?

The wrath and unquestioned self-righteousness of their enemies erupts over Beleriand and the years of intense warfare lead to brutal massacres. On both sides – he is nowhere close to being without fault; that fierce love of his people has lead him to commit some of the most heinous acts of violence over and over again – but even now he remembers climbing down into the ruins of their underground cities after their defeat. He remembers the protective bunkers filled with civilian bodies and standing in their spilled blood.

The ones that got out in time were mostly soldiers because they had been evacuatable once the defeat was imminent. But the workers, the engineers, the caretakers, the children, those who they had wanted to keep safe in the bunkers? It was too late for them by the time they realises that nothing they could do would stop the fortress from being taken. And then the Valar went on and slaughtered them all.

It is his fault. And at the time it seemed like the worst one he would ever make.

As a nuclear firestorm destroys Beleriand, as the remnants of an entire continent drown in the sea behind them, and he and what is left of his people loose everything, the only thing he can do is lead them away, further and further east. Until he can‘t even do that anymore.

Because at that point everything just collapses in on him. His work has been shattered to pieces, all his brethren and most of his trusted generals killed, his lord, his partner, his lover, his pillar was taken and with that he just stops functioning.

In their hour of greatest need he abandons his people. After all, the only thing he ever seems to bring to them is war and death.

For a millennium he just… There is no purpose, no responsibility. Distantly he hears of the hardships his people are facing now in the East. How slow civilisations develop without the energy of a Vala or three radiating stones to power them. But he shuts it all out. He becomes numb to it.

And strangely, when he stumbles upon the new settlements of the second firstborn he isn‘t filled with unadulterated unstoppable rage. He is just tired. After all, what, truly, are these creatures but the Valar‘s playball in their game of who-is-the-most-despicable-without-realising? And strangely, these Eldar do not recognise who he is.

So why not, he thinks. Why not live in easy expedients for once, why not push away the past and continue to abdicate any responsibility he has to his that people? He crafts a name and a lie to start his new life of ignorance is bliss.

Oh, sweet Tyelpe. How easy it is to share the discoveries they had made in the first age with this ellon when the reward is all eyes big of wonder and desperation to discover more of this „Valinorian“ technology. It is so much like in the old days when he and his brethren and the best scientist of his people would find new methods and formulas to describe the world around them that he can‘t help but loose himself in the intelligent conversations of their workshop, the peaceful thriving of their city, the warm tenderness of their embrace.

They work to create better methods of gaining and storing energy then until they eventually develop the rings that can provide enough power to sustain entire cities.

They plan to make rings for the strongholds of dwarves and men and Eldar. But what about his people, he finds himself thinking. These technologies that are now used in the elvish kingdoms, they are only a small part of what was developed by and for him and his people in the first place. So what about his people?

He feels restless now. Old anger at injustice and blind self-righteousness arise in him again. In secret he starts travelling to the settlements his people have made in a country they call Mordor. The conditions there are rough and the technology now primitive compared to their glorious past but he sees a lot of recent progress.

All of the generals and leaders of old are long dead now and it takes a lot of time and effort to convince his people to trust him again, that he can and will help and that he won‘t abandon them again. They start building an underground city and a fortress once more, Barad-dûr, where the energy will be harvested. He creates a ring more powerful than any of the ones before. It has to supply the entire population after all.

When he returns to Eregion something has changed.

He can feel a strange charge in the air. Are the Eldar suspecting something? They all seem very worried at the sudden surge of activity in Mordor and he is starkly reminded that these Eldar, at the end of the day they still view his people as an ultimate but also undignified threat.

He knows something is wrong when Tyelpe suggests that their rings might also be used as a weapon. One of mass destruction. Mass destruction of his people that is. Tyelpe leaves that unsaid but it is clear as day what he means.

He doesn‘t need to worry about the rings for the elven cities anymore, Tyelpe tells him then and smiles.

A primordial fear settles into his bones. The horror at what is to come turns his stomach. What has he done? How could he have given all this help, all this power to the Eldar when they would only turn around and use it against his people?

He remembers sitting outside on some steps, pulling at his hair, his entire body shaking, growing increasingly mad at all the options that seem to slip out his hands one by one. And when Tyelpe comes to meet him there the only thing left for him to do is to push the ellon against a pillar, knife to his eye and demand the elvish rings he devised in secret. But Tyelpe laughs bitterly and spits in his face.

So it is truly you, the abhorred one, the dark foe‘s torturer, his whore.

This time it is his own wrath that razes cities to the ground. His people are ready for war. They have to be. And the next centuries are dictated by mindless destruction and production lines of battle machinery being the first thing that is re-introduced into the city of his people.

But still the population grows again, the conditions improve, their underground civilisation expands and he finds that he can make alliances with some of the human tribes and kingdoms that they had given rings of power to.

He and his people once again find ways to live in perfect symbiosis with the harsh climate of their land. Volcanic soil is fertile, air and water can be filtered and the ring offers them enough power to sustain artificial lights for growing crops underground and more.

It‘s progress but one that they keep secret. Because just like he is fuelled by the fear of elvish development, the Eldar would surely bring about another war of wrath if they knew about the advancements of his people.

The whole Numenorean ordeal that followed some centuries later was a mess. When that conquerer-king and his armies march upon Mordor he has no choice but to give in quickly. They cannot risk being invaded. Luckily these men are self-complacent enough to take their smugness and their ‚victory‘ and leave again. Though they also feel the need to drag him to that forsaken island of theirs.

Ar-Pharazon truly was a conquerer. He stretched his hands further and further for more colonies on the continent while his nation corroded away with by civil war. The golden king took and took from everyone around him and the displays of subjugation he was continually forced to perform to this king were manifold and in all kinds of ways.

Of course the wrath of the Valar that they unleashed upon the island as soon as they felt slightly threatened in their superiority was in the end blamed on him. He only ever indulged the Numenoreans‘ fantasies. When they brought him to their island it was already on the brink of collapse with conflict and misanthropic ideologies. Sure he, too, lost himself a bit in that collective insanity; he was complicit, so was everyone else. And then Eru felt they could cast judgement upon all these individuals and drowned yet another continent.

He laughs in the face of such insolence. It‘s hysterical, maybe more so a scream.

Then the water hits his body. It presses all the air out, breaks his ribs, crushes his lungs.

When he awakes again he is floating on a piece of driftwood, endless blue stretches around him. His body is raw and for some reason he finds himself unable to shift form anymore. He starts to panic, tries to force his particles to regroup in a way that forms a bird, a fish, something, he needs to get out of this blue emptiness now, he needs to – what is happening??

There is another war at the end of that age, but by that time his memory has turned into an indecipherable blur. It leads to yet more massacre. But worst of all, they take the ring.

For him it is as if all the tissue that holds him together suddenly loosens. He falls to his knees, sacks into himself. He can feel his spirit oozing out of the leaks that now penetrate his form. He stumbles back.

In the underground city the lights go dark, the industrial production comes to a standstill, the water and air filters turn off. His people pour out of their homes once they start to starve, once they realise that their military has lost the war and that their government has no way of dealing with the catastrophe.

They are in need but once again he is abandoning them. He is just so tired.

In the tower there is a large tank with cooling liquid for the energy production of the ring that he now lies in. In the pitch-black darkness his bones have started to shine with a dim fluorescent green. His body has started to disintegrate.

Outside he can feel the remnants of his peoples civilisation fall to ruin a second time. It takes only a few decades for them to return to the primitive conditions of their life without a secure energy supply.

And then suddenly it‘s not only his body that disintegrates anymore but the heavy elements in him too. At a faster rate than is normally used to power an Ainu‘s body that is. The heat of the nuclear fission that has set in brings the coolant to the boil and he had just barely enough mind and willpower left to set off the steam turbine. With a thudding noise the whole energy plant slowly comes to life again.

And for the next millennia Mairon lies submerged in the coolant tank, his body glowing and radiating and falling apart, his atoms splitting and powering a city that has been abandoned and he can only hope that his people will come back and reclaim what is theirs by right and rebuild their lives, their culture, their technology with the last energy that he has to give.

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 8 - Torrent

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong  enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much  rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 3739

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: I got excited and decided to post the next chapter early. This fic is still going to be Red Son-centric, but I do want to focus a lot on MK. I think it'd be fun to explore some of his issues, including the darker parts of him. He's a good and kind-hearted kid, but at times has been shown to be a bit petty, impatient, and selfish. And like Red Son, I find it interesting to see what he'd do if pushed. I'd also like to point out that some of this chapter includes semi-competent JTTW lore (thanks again, Lem, for your help with that)!

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much  about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

Wind flows from MK in angry waves as he lands in between the Monkey King and DBK. If the stakes weren’t so dire, he’d think about how cool of a superhero landing that was. The blue fire has spread around the area, and though his landing pushed some of it back, none of it was extinguished. Fear flutters in his chest at coming face to face with the same power that had seemingly consumed his mentor, and it flares even more so to realize that this time it was DBK who seemed to be wielding the fire, and not Red Son. He glances on either side of his enemy to see Princess Iron Fan trying to put out some flames that had caught on her dress, and Red Son lying unconscious farther away. DBK seems off. It reminds him of when he was possessed by that weird white ghost before. An unhinged Demon Bull King wielding the very fire that could kill the Monkey king? Not good.

“Kid?!” calls a weak voice from behind him.

“Monkey King!” All thought and focus leaves him as he looks to the voice of his injured mentor. He’s still alive! The Monkey King looks angry. Or in pain?

“Look out, Kid!” he rasps.

MK turns around to see DBK charging at him, eyes ablaze. Before he can react, a giant, metallic fist slams into DBK, throwing him out of the way of MK.

“I got your back, MK!” Mei calls from the cockpit of the Monkey Mech that had entered the scene.

MK smiles up at her and waves. “Thanks Mei!”

“You check on the Monkey King! I’ll hold DBK off!” she says with a salute and takes giant leaps meeting DBK as he resumes his charge.

MK nods and rushes to his mentor’s side. He doesn’t look good. His fur is singed and parts of his clothes are blackened and ripped. Not only that, but there’s a flare of blue fire coming from his left side and right hand. MK reaches out to him. He doesn’t know what he can do, but he wants to help.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Monkey King shouts in a strained snarl.

MK flinches at the harsh command and his hands pause midair. He looks on helplessly as Monkey King wheezes and coughs, as if his yell took all his energy. MK brings his hands to his chest and tugs at his shirt as anxiety tugs at his heart.

The Monkey King’s expression turns to something softer and more sympathetic, and he corrects quickly, “No, no, kid.” He pants trying to catch his breath. “Y-you can’t touch me. You might catch on fire, too. You-- you need to go--” he says before devolving into wheezing coughs.

MK lets go of his shirt and clenches his fists. He wouldn’t let his mentor get in trouble trying to protect him again. “No, I need to help! I’m- I’m the hero guy now! I can do this!” He locks eyes with the Monkey King giving him a fierce and determined look.

The Monkey King stares back, steadily reading his student’s expression, before closing them and giving a nod. He looks up at MK with a strained, but proud smile and trusting eyes.

MK smiles back. Though it worries him that the Monkey King seems to be having trouble even talking right now, having his mentor’s affirmation means everything to him.

Suddenly a metallic screech blares behind him, so grating that he has to hold his hands to his ears. Turning around he sees DBK latching onto the Monkey Mech’s fist, twisting its metal, and grappling the giant mech to the ground. Flames twist around the fist and travel upward to the face of the mech, blooming into a fiery explosion.

“MEI!” MK screams as worry fills his heart. For a second he can’t breathe as he sees blue flames envelop the cockpit area, obscuring any sight of his best friend.

A streak of blue flies upward out of the head of the mech and for a moment MK thinks that it’s the flames flying even higher, until he realizes that it’s humanoid shaped. As the streak arcs downward he recognizes that it’s Sandy! With Pigsy and Mr. Tang hanging on his shoulders! And Mei held protectively in his arms!

He lands next to MK with a smile, a hearty laugh, and smoke trailing behind him. “Hello, MK! I brought some friends!”

Pigsy and Mr. Tang jump off quickly and rush to his side. He lets Mei down gently, who wobbles slightly and holds onto his arm for some support. Small blue flames start blackening her jacket sleeve. “Let me just take your jacket for you, Mei,” Sandy says, quickly, but carefully, pulling it off her shoulders in a practiced motion and flinging it to the side.

“Mei!” MK exclaims, rushing over to her and giving her a big hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit dizzy,” she says with slightly unfocused eyes. “I think I breathed in too much smoke.” She winces and holds her head.

MK looks over her, worriedly, and then a flicker of light catches his eye.

“Sandy! You’re on fire!” Pigsy exclaims.

“Well, I do think that was an exciting last-minute save, thank you!” Sandy says cheerily.

At everyone’s pause he looks to his shoulder to see a small blue flame burning there. “Oh you mean that!” he says, cheery voice not faltering in the slightest.

“SANDY!” Pigsy yells angrily.

Sandy laughs sheepishly. “Ah hah, I must’ve got singed a bit when rescuing Mei. But don’t worry, we’re here to deal with that problem. MK, you can stop DBK while Tang tries to find a possible cure in that book of his.”

Mr. Tang pushes his glasses up his nose. “Yes, I will research on how to extinguish the True Fire of Samadhi…” he says calmly, before his voice raises into a fearful shriek, “just as it iS COMING RIGHT AT US!”

True to his shout, a blast of fire is headed their way. MK isn’t going to let it get advantage of them this time. He quickly summons his staff. Though he doesn’t know the fire repellant wards that Monkey King does, he can at least deflect the flames with the staff. He twirls the staff catching up the fire with it, and whips it around sending it back the Bull King’s way. DBK absorbs the fire back into his chest and growls angrily.

“MK, go and deal with the Demon Bull King!” Pigsy says. “I’ll keep an eye on these guys while Tang tries to find a solution in that book of his!”

MK nods and rushes to battle the new commander of the flames that took down his mentor.

DBK breathes out a couple of fire blasts, which MK swats out of the way with his staff. He closes in on DBK and swings a third swipe right at his head. DBK catches the attack with one of his horns and flicks it backwards. He swings a punch at MK’s midsection, which MK blocks with his staff. He retaliates with a few quick jabs of his staff, forcing DBK to take some steps back to dodge. The demon stamps one of his hooves to the ground, emitting sparks as if they were a flint hitting stone, causing fire to flare around him. MK is forced to do an impromptu jig to dodge the sparks. Doing so leaves an opening for DBK to thrust his head forward in an attempt to gouge him with his horns.

MK hears his shirt tear and feels a sharp point slash across his skin. He squints his eyes shut at the pain that is sure to come, but before he can even think, DBK has thrown another punch his way, ramming into his chest and flinging him across the battlefield.

Wind whips past his ears and he feels his body hit a wall, debris scattering about him. Dust surrounds him and obscures his vision. He hears a ringing in his ears and the shouting of his friends’ worried voices, calling his name. His feet land on the ground and he stumbles a few steps forward, but does not fall. There is surprisingly little pain. The dust clears and he blinks his eyes, looking down at himself. He is… fine…? His shirt is torn, and there is a clear indication that he was thrown several yards, what with a furrow in the ground and a crater in the wall behind him. But there are no apparent injuries on him. He remembers to breathe and huffs out a surprised cough.

“..What?” he asks to no one.

He looks up and everyone, including DBK, looks just as confused as MK feels. Except for the Monkey King. Who he can see looking at him, with half lidded eyes and a contented smile. He recalls the moment back at Flower Fruit Mountain, when Monkey King sent him away. That hit to the chest!

“Monkey King...” he breathes. “You-- you undid the seal on my powers!?” he yells.

His mentor smiles wide enough that his eyes squint shut.

“So, you’re invincible again?!” Mei says excitedly.

“Yeah!” MK can’t help but mirror his friend’s smile as he pulls at the tear in his shirt. “I guess so!”

An angry snarl comes from DBK’s direction as does a stream of blue fire.

MK yelps and leaps out of the way. “Well… invincible except for the fire!” He runs away from the trail of fire following him, dodging around in a serpentine motion. He shouts over to where Pigsy and Mr. Tang are hovering by the Monkey King. “Mr.Tang! You got a solution to the fire problem yet?!”

Mr. Tang’s expression belies boredom, but his jaw is tight and his speech is sharp and hurried. He flips through his book and responds, “According to my research, the Samadhi Fire can only be sent away by the creator of the fire, held at bay by a fire repellent ward, or extinguished by a drop of sweet dew from the Bodhisattva Guanyin's vase.” He readjusts his glasses as a bead of sweat drips down his temple. “And unfortunately,” he gestures at DBK, “the creator of the fire doesn’t seem to be in the mood to stop shooting fire at us…” He gestures at the Monkey King, “...the only one who knows fire repellent wards is having trouble breathing, much less is able to form seals…” MK grimaces at this remark, but listens to Mr. Tang as he continues. “...And I don’t think we have any Bodhisattva’s present and willing to provide us with a drop of dew.”

That’s not good. The Monkey King’s state is getting worse and worse. The fire has already gotten on Sandy, and despite the big guy’s grin, he can tell the spreading burn is weighing on him. What can MK do? Keep fighting the Demon Bull King, and wait until each of his friends, including himself, accidentally catch on fire? He’s not sure he can dodge DBK forever, and even if he tires him out or defeats him, that’s not going to put the fire out. The flames from their battle are even beginning to overtake the surrounding area. Even if stopping DBK stops the flames, he’s not sure if he’d be able to do it in time to prevent more destruction or to save Monkey King!

He dodges another blast of fire. He squints his eyes shut in frustration. What can he do?!

Upon opening his eyes, everything is golden. True sight! He looks around and everything appears as if in slow-motion. Or rather, it’s all going at normal speeds, but it’s like he can see how everything moves and every single detail. He sees the flames curl around him, and which fiery hoops to dodge through. He can see the flames flare at DBK’s center and the pained squint around his eyes as if even the Demon Bull King is at the fire’s mercy. He can see Princess Iron Fan’s attempts to put out the fire only causing it to spread more, and Red Son’s still body. He can see Mei look between them all worriedly and how that causes her to become even dizzier. He hopes she didn’t get a concussion. He can see the corner of Sandy’s eyes squint in pain despite his smile, and Pigsy’s spittle as he yells at Mr. Tang to hurry up. He can see the cool expression on the scholar start to break as he flips through his book. He can see an illustration in the book of a drop of dew being poured from a heavenly looking vase. Somehow he sees the dew drip down the page and onto the ground. Except that the ground suddenly becomes an ocean, as if an entire body of water was held within that one drop of heavenly dew, and he is completely enveloped in its vastness.

He blinks. The ocean is gone and the golden view is receding. But before it leaves completely it focuses on the Monkey King. The fire has crept up to his chest and shoulder. He is no longer breathing. As if the flames have claimed the air in his lungs.

MK has no more time.

He thinks of the ocean.

He knows what he must do.

MK leaps through another twist of flame, but instead of landing he thrusts his staff to the ground, and extends it to hurl himself high up into the air. He looks out, across the city, to the bay and finds what he is looking for.

“Picking up an entire ocean can’t be too much harder than picking up a mountain. Right?” he jokes in an attempt to alleviate his worries. It doesn’t really.

He hopes this works. It will work. It has to work!

He enlarges the staff further and extends it over to the waters. He’s in the air, but does what his mentor taught him as best he can. “Step into the strike.”

He swings the now gigantic staff, thrusting the end into the ocean, and putting his entire body into the motion. He strains his muscles, and even for an invincible and powerful being, this is hard. Slowly, but surely, the staff moves. And the ocean with it. The force of the strike pulls the ocean right out of the bay, out of the earth, and a near infinite wall of water seizes up behind him.

MK swoops the staff around, and brings it, and the entire ocean crashing down. He doesn’t do so carelessly, no. He wills the waters to drench the area, the buildings, his friends with a strong enough flow to extinguish the flames, but not to harm. But as for the demons who caused this mess, he lets the full weight of the water slam into them. Angrily. Mercilessly.

Like the torrents currently surrounding him, anger and hatred swirl around MK. He pushes the water down onto his enemies. He forces the water to seep into the tech on DBK’s chest, making sure that he extinguishes every last bit of that blue fire. He throws it down on Red Son and Princess Iron Fan, as well. They all deserve this, right? They tricked him! They used him to bring them to the Monkey King. They hurt him! They hurt his friends! They tried to kill his friends! They almost killed his mentor! Had they killed his mentor? Is he still alive? Is this even helping?

He looks to his friends. The fire had gone out. But his friends look distressed. He sees Mei strain to look up at him through the streaming waters whipping around her. She looks shocked and worried. MK notices his face is scrunched up and his brows are furrowed harshly. What must he look like right now?

He looks over to his enemies, the water is pushing them back, threatening to force them into the bay and be lost at sea once the waters return there. Red Son started this, but he had been out the entire fight, injured and unable to defend himself. DBK had attacked, but was obviously overcome with the power. And Princess Iron Fan hadn’t even lifted a finger to him or his friends here. What’s the point of hurting them further?

MK looks at the Monkey King. The way the water flows around him, MK could pretend that it is as if his mentor is moving. But he’s not. MK knows he’s not. He had stopped the fire. Isn’t that enough?

He hopes it is enough, because if it isn’t, he doesn’t know what he’d do. He just wants his friends to be safe. He just wants his mentor to wake up and keep teaching him. He shouldn’t have this much power right now. Not yet. He can’t handle it yet. He needs his teacher.

And like the weight of the ocean, the weight of his emotions come crashing down. A sob bubbles out of his throat and he bursts into tears. The wave of water he’s controlling suddenly breaks apart, expanding over the area and covering it in a torrential downpour of salty rain.

MK floats down to the ground and stands there listlessly as equally salty tears slide down his face. He wobbles and is caught by the sudden embrace of his best friend. Mei holds him close, and MK sinks into the hug. His legs give out underneath him, and she follows him gently to the ground, kneeling beside him. He buries his face just below her shoulder and cries heavily into her shirt. She holds him tightly as if helping to hold back the sobs that are racking his body. The rain pouring around them forms white noise in MK’s ears, and he is reminded of the comfort she gave him before. Despite this he can just barely hear her calming whispers reach him, and he holds on tighter still.

Much larger arms surround them both. It’s Sandy. MK can tell from the tint of blue at the corner of his vision and the scent of tea and baked goods that seem to surround the large man. Sandy picks them both up and holds them protectively. The love and comfort he feels from his friends is enough to help him quiet his crying. He tries to dry his tears, but with the rain drenching everything, the act is useless. Still he looks up at them with grateful, watery eyes, and says, “Thanks guys.”

“Of course, MK,” Mei says like she helped him beat a level in a video game and not like her support means the world to him.

“You did it, MK!” Sandy says jovially!

MK winces a bit at his booming voice, but gives a slight smile. It fades immediately at the thought of his mentor. “The Monkey King! Is he all right?!”

The two of them look over in that direction. Pigsy and Mr. Tang are on either side of the Monkey King. Mr. Tang looks like he is making jabbing motions with his fingers at the Monkey King while Pigsy is flailing his arms wildly and yelling.

“What do ya think you’re doing?!” MK can hear Pigsy yell as Sandy brings him and Mei closer.

“I’m trying to hit his chakra points to help him start breathing again!” Mr. Tang exclaims, all attempts at remaining calm completely lost.

“Can ya even do that?!” Pigsy says, trying to sound sarcastic, but the rising tone of his voice gives away his panic.

“I’m following the book’s instructions!”

“Well do it better!”

“I’m trying!”

“Listen ta me, Tang! That’s not even tha way to do it! Ta make someone breathe again, ya just gotta slap ‘em like this!” Pigsy exclaims winding up an arm.

Mr. Tang flails his own arms and says, “Pigsy, I don’t think you should act rashly and--”

But it’s no good as Pigsy lands a couple of harsh blows to the Monkey King’s back. Everyone else flinches slightly and lets out variations of yelps and “No’s”, but they’re all surprised when a wheezing cough comes out of the Monkey King’s mouth.

“Monkey King!” MK exclaims and scrambles out of Sandy and Mei’s grip to sit next to his mentor.

The Monkey King makes a few more dry coughs and pants heavily. With obvious effort, he opens his eyes and looks up at his student. A wobbly smile spreads on MK’s face and once again tears threaten to spill over. “You’re okay!”

The Monkey King smiles as well and takes a few more steadying breaths before attempting to speak. “Thanks to you, kid! Good hero work!”

MK’s smile wobbles back into a frown and he leans over and hugs the Monkey King, careful to avoid any overly singed fur. He buries his face in his fur and shudders with no help from the cold rain.

“I’m okay, kid. I’m okay!” the Monkey King reassures his shivering student. He doesn’t move, but the shallow, yet now steady, breathing and the whispers of reassurance let MK know that he was right, and everything would be okay.

After a moment of calm silence, Pigsy speaks up. “Well, we better get ‘im someplace where we can take care of his wounds. Let’s head back to the noodle shop, I got some first aid kits in there.”

“Do you even know how to take care of an immortal?” Mr. Tang says.

“Hey, I helped revive him, didn’t I? I'll figure it out when we get there! Sandy, your arm good enough to carry him? I can patch you up as well!”

“I should be good enough to get to the noodle shop,” Sandy says.

MK allows Sandy to pick up the Monkey King, who seems to be slipping in and out of consciousness now, but still breathing steadily.

MK allows himself one last look at the now empty battlefield.

“The DBK family is gone…” Mei says as if to echo his very thoughts.

“Maybe they got taken away by the water…?” Sandy says, looking out to the direction of the sea.

“Ah good riddance, is what I say!” says Pigsy with a wave of his hand. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

With one last look out to sea, MK turns around and hurries to keep pace with Sandy, and keeps an eye on the steady rise and fall of The Monkey King's chest the whole way home.

start || <– previous // next –>  

[captain-yeet]

It’s A Little Awkward (Demetri Volturi x Fem Vampire!Reader)

Requested by @like-rain-or-confetti

Summary: You met your mate the moment you opened your eyes to your new immortal un-life. He wasn’t what you expected, and with pent up frustration at a life you didn’t ask for exploding you ran from him. Circumstances cause the two of you to reunite unexpectedly.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: call me Avatar A A N G S T, baby. And repressed romantic feelings.

Life sucked and then you died, and woke up again. New. Strong. Too strong. Everything grated your senses and all you knew was fear.

Soaked from head to toe from a heavy flow of rain from above, you remember laying in a damp alleyway feeling... blank. It took a moment to even remember your name. The next thing you remembered were teeth in your shoulder. Fear clouded all your senses until someone hovered over you.

A man whose face brought you a sense of comfort unknown to you.

He helped you to your feet and shortly after you left with him. The calmness he brought to you was almost unnerving, with how foreign it was to your new body. You learned his name was Demetri, and when he whisked you away from the scary alleyway to the city of Volterra to his masters you learned another thing; soulmates existed. Or rather, the vampire equivalent of soulmates.

Joy filled your being at the prospect - a life partner! Someone to be there for you always. And Demetri was perfect.

Come your first feeding time, however, the joy turned into horror, and horror led to punishment by your new master’s orders via a piercing stare from a young blonde teen and even more crushing, disappointment from your mate. So what did you do?

Panic, and smash through one of the Volturi castle’s many windows in the dead of night, sprinting through the streets and to the countryside as fast as you could.

You’d been a nomad for six months now, travelling aimlessly around the world, going wherever you wanted. The Eiffel Tower? You climbed it for fun at 3 am once. The Grand Canyon? Been there, saw that, ate a tourist who catcalled you.

Nothing held you back anymore. 

Your new immortal life would be one that didn’t feel fear ever again. If you wanted to explore? You would do so. If you wanted to run away from crazy Italian vampires who liked to mind torture you? You sure as shit did just that.

One thing stayed on your mind though; Demetri.

God, you hated how things left off with him. After Jane’s punishment session was over you stormed up to your shared quarters with Demetri and the row you two had practically shook the castle walls. He couldn’t understand why you were so adverse to feeding the way he did, you couldn’t understand why he would see it as horrible.

 “You’re literally rounding up innocent people to die, Dem,” you had hissed, baring your teeth as you did so, anger fueled by your newborn instincts.

 “People no one would miss,” he snapped back dismissively, rolling his eyes at your reaction. “We do our homework, cara mia.”

 “Oh my god!?” You walked away from him to stare out the window, hands in your hair gripping the roots in frustration. “That does not make it okay? And don’t get me started on the pit where you dispose of the bodes...”

Demetri sighed from behind you. “You’re a vampire now Y/N. Feeling bad for your diet is a habit you can’t afford to have anymore. It’s how you will survive.”

A violent snarl ripped through your throat, startling yourself and him. “It’s not that! I don’t mind the whole hunting humans thing. It’s your coven’s methods that I find completely messed up.”

 “Our coven,” he corrected you.

You stared at each other in silence. After a few minutes went by, Demetri shook his head. 

 “I have to go sort some things now, collect yourself before I return, love.”

That. That response triggered your furious, panicked escape from Volterra. And here you were, standing on some random cliff in the wilderness of the Pacific North-West, regretting ever speaking to him that way.

Granted, you felt justified in your feelings. And he was being insensitive. Regardless, the mate’s pull still held strong and you wondered as you stared off at the rising sun if it felt as strong still for him too.

 “Hey, there you are,” a silky sweet voice called to you from behind.

Turning around, your dark red eyes locked with the golden ones of Rosalie Hale. A newfound friend of yours. 

She waltz forward and took your hand in hers, a comforting grip. “Come now, training is about to begin.”

Training, right. With a huff, you let the blonde lead you through the forest.

You found yourself allied with Rosalie and her coven for a bizarre reason. Apparently, some Romanian vampires had lost the plot and wanted to claim one of their own as their shared mate. A hybrid. And they wanted to make their own with her.

And they had gathered an army to do so.

At first you thought it was a load of steaming horse shit. When you entered the area, Rosalie and the patriarch of her coven, Carlisle, confronted you, asking you who you were. After proving you were just a random passing through they told you of their situation and asked a favour of you; “Come and see why we want to protect this particular coven member. I assure you, once you meet her, you’ll understand.”

You agreed. You followed. And then you saw her.

A pretty young teenager, with red cheeks and soft chocolate brown eyes who barely spoke apart from her strange form of thought projection and excited hand flapping when she goofed off with her family.

She was just a kid. A fucking kid.

And now, here you were, gathered with the Cullens, some smelly shapeshifter folks from a local rez and many strange vampires. You were willing to fight for what you felt was right - and hey, if a couple of creepy Romanians had to die, then so be it.

 Jasper and Carlisle stood before the group with serious expressions.

 “We have some news,” Carlisle began, “and while we know this will no doubt upset you all, we ask that you keep calm.”

 “The Volturi are coming,” Jasper deadpanned.

Your heart, if it could beat still, jumped. Your old coven, your mate, were coming. A question burst to your lips before you could stop it. “How soon?” 

Jasper eyed you with a curious glint in his eye, sensing your emotions. “Within the next couple of hours.”

So soon! You began to feel panic rise in your chest.

A hand clamped itself firmly on your shoulder. You looked and saw Emmett and Rosalie has flitted to your side, expressions of concern on their faces. It surprised you to no end just how kind they were to you even after they found out you were mated to a Volturi guard. From what you’d heard they had every right to not like you, but instead they welcomed you. Accepted you.

 “We know Y/N,” Emmett said softly, “we have your back, no need to worry about your ex.”

 “If he has any brains he’ll come to his senses when he sees you,” Rosalie added, leaning into Emmett’s side. “Or the time apart will have given him much time to think on his actions.”

It pained you to watch the two lovebirds find comfort in each other’s touch. Your mind traveled back to when you and Demetri first began to get to know each other; he was a great comfort to you. Gentle, none of his touches were rough or hurt you. Just the pure, sweet feeling of feeling safe and loved.

The hours droned on for you, and sure enough, your old coven appeared in full force.

The masters led a group of what looked like their best fighters, just from the colours of their cloaks. You vaguely understood the colour-coding of the ranks of guards in the coven. Two black cloaks stood out to you; the tall hulking mass that was Felix on one side of the masters, who caught you in his sight. His eyes widened and he looked to his right, where on the opposite side of the masters was your mate.

Demetri stared at you looking like a bus has slammed into him, lips parting in shock.

 “Welcome!” Carlisle called out to the Volturi.

 “Ah, Carlisle,” came Aro’s smooth reply. He floated to Carlisle and took his hand in his, reading the memories greedily. “What an interesting time for us all. Fighting on the same side!”

 “They harbour traitors in their midst!” Caius snapped, his eyes locked on you with a death glare.

You shrank as everyone’s eyes came onto you. You didn’t know where to look so you simply kept your eyes to the ground.

 “Y/N, what a surprise!” Aro cooed, ignoring his fellow leader’s cry of annoyance at his response. “I’m sure you and Demetri have much to catch up on.”

Lifting your head, your gaze shifted to your mate, whose stare had not let up at all. No, he stared at you with such an intensity that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Luckily for you, the attention on you and Demetri faded as Jasper began going over battle plans against the Romanians. The day went on quickly yet somehow slowly at the same time; sparring training took place and that went smoothly. But Demetri’s presence made the day drone on longer.

You needed to speak with him.

As the sun began to set, a day’s worth of training and going over battle plans done and dusted, you seeked out the cliff Rosalie had found you at earlier. The scenery up there was beautiful and it gave you some peace of mind. 

You sat at the edge with your hand raised, watching your skin glitter and shine luminously as you turned your wrist. You didn’t flinch when the wind whipped your face as someone appeared at your side, standing next to you.

 “It’s a nice view up here,” Demetri said quietly.

You hummed in agreement. “It really is.”

He shifted, and took a seat beside you. You turned your head to look at him. Your love had not ceased to look utterly handsome in the time you’d been apart. A sadness lingered in his eyes, the kind of sadness that had implanted itself into one’s being after a time of great grief. But he gave you a small smile. “I want to apologise to you, Y/N.”

Tilting your head to the side, you shifted your body toward him, showing him you were listening.

 “I was harsh on you. You had just been turned and you weren’t comfortable with how we - how I fed. And I tried to force my beliefs on you, which I should not have. And the thing with Jane -”

Sighing, you squeezed your eyes shut, flinching at the memory.

 “I am so sorry I stood by and let that happen to you.” You felt his hand encase itself around one of yours with the lightest of touches, hesitant. “What happened between us hasn’t changed how I feel about you in the slightest.”

That made you open your eyes. Snapping your head back up with hopeful, wide eyes, you scanned his face for any sign of a lie; there wasn’t any. “It’s been so painful being apart,” you whimpered. “I don’t regret leaving the Volturi at all but shit, I hate how we left things. How I left you, the one person who made me feel safe and secure.”

Raising your hand to his face, you hovered over his cheek, the hunger you had for him growing rapidly. Would he still let you touch him in such a way?

Answering your doubtful thoughts, he brought your hand to his face, holding it there. Turning his head slightly he pressed his lips to your hand. “I miss you. Let us work something out, please. I’ll buy us a house away from the Volturi, I’ll do anything.” A shaky sob made his body shudder and his gaze turned pleading, begging you. “I can’t live without you.”

That was all it took. Your body moved before you could respond with words and you took his face in your hands and kissed him desperately, sealing your fates together. You’d fought against your feelings long enough; the months apart hurt more than anything you’d ever experienced - even rivaling the thirst of blood - and now you needed Demetri more than anything.

He grinned against your lips, laughing breathlessly. “I’ll take that as a good sign?”

Giggling, you pulled back to smile at him. “I have never felt more sure about anything.”

His hand intertwining with your, you nestled into his side and watched the sun set. For the first time in a while, you felt secure again. As long as you had Demetri by your side, you were ready to finally make something of your second life.

[veritied]

ϟ  ━  was  that  WI  “WILKES”  KI-SUN  around  the  leaky  cauldron  ?  they  disapparated  before  i  could  approach  them  !  what  a  pity,  for  they  are  cerebral  and  poised,  but  maybe  it's  best  to  keep  my  distance  because  they  are  also  minacious  and  rancorous.  i  remember  that  they  were  a  SLYTHERIN  back  in  school  but  have  since  made  a  name  for  themselves  as  an  unspeakable.  if  this  alleged  war  came  knocking  on  their  door,  it  is  supposed  that  they  would  FIGHT  FOR  THE  DARK  LORD.  (  demi  woman  &  they  +  them,  she  +  her /  moon  ga - young  /  twenty  four  /  pureblood  ).

hi,  all!  i’m  cc  and  i’m  excited  to  be  here  and  writing  wilkes,  who  is  a  demon  –  but  a  dramatic,  sexy  demon.  i’ll  be  reaching  out  to  plot  with  everyone  eventually  and  again,  i’m  just  super  happy  to  be  here  <3  beneath  is  a  bare  bones  biography  +  some  wanted  plots  i’d  love  to  write  !

extra  links:  pinterest,  task  one  (  stats  ),  application

trigger  warning:  blood  mention.

women  like  you  don’t  have  the  privilege  of  heroism.  you  are  not  carved  from  sea  foam  and  rose  petals,  you  are  instead  made  of  every  thorn  and  blazing  fire  that  brings  as  much  punishment  as  it  does  freedom.  your  mother  brushes  your  hair  when  you  are  as  young  as  five  and  she  teaches  you  of  your  duties  in  this  world.  not  only  are  you  an  heiress,  you  are  made  of  magic  and  prowess  that  your  family  has  always  held.  you  will  always  tip  toward  the  side  of  magic,  but  if  you  choose  to  turn  your  back  on  your  true  heritage,  you  are  still  saddled  with  the  responsibility  of  being  your  father’s  daughter.  some  women  are  born  into  silk  and  delicacy,  you  are  taught  from  the  moment  you  claw  your  way  into  world  how  to  land  on  your  feet.  you  are  not  given  the  opportunity  to  grow  into  a  rose  ––  and  in  the  grand  scheme  of  life  and  death,  your  only  role  is  terror.

with  that  knowledge,  you  are  torn  away  from  your  family  before  you  can  ever  be  given  the  same  opportunities  as  your  cousins.  you  are  better  than  that  school,  settled  into  enemy  land,  filled  with  peers  that  won’t  challenge  you.  pushed  out  of  the  arms  of  safety  and  love  (  cold,  harsh  love  from  your  mother  –  warm,  enveloping  love  from  your  mother  ),  you  land  in  the  palms  of  a  woman  with  eyes  so  blue  they  scare  you  in  the  dead  of  night.  you  are  to  attend  hogwarts,  instead,  the  finest  institute  in  the  world.  in  korean  script,  you  write  to  your  parents  and  stain  parchment  with  tears  that  you  shouldn’t  cry  and  you  beg  them  to  bring  you  home  –  or  at  least,  send  you  north.  what’s  so  wrong  with  durmstrang?  you  write.  what’s  so  terrible  about  the  beauxbatons  academy?  you  ask.  you  aren’t  given  an  answer  that  you  can  understand  at  your  young  age,  but  one  day  you  will  understand  that  the  people  here  fight  the  same  battles  as  you  do  back  home.  their  views  align  with  yours  and  it  is  better  for  you  to  be  knee  deep  in  war,  it  will  only  prepare  you  for  what  will  await  you  at  home.

hogwarts  knows  you  as  an  english  name  that  your  parents  refuse  to  learn.  i  chose  this  name  for  you,  do  you  not  want  it?  your  father  writes  and  you  send  a  letter  back  with  a  sneer  ––  this  is  the  name  i  choose  for  myself,  do  you  not  appreciate  how  i  carved  myself  anew?  you  take  most  after  your  mother,  though  they  do  not  know  her.  they  only  know  you  –  cruel,  caught  in  a  continuous  lament,  always  lurking  behind  a  barbaric  event.  you  are  an  omen  of  a  girl,  a  terror  of  a  beast  and  you  are  only  known  for  what  you  do  and  what  you  lack  (  empathy,  sympathy,  kindness  ).  but,  you  are  the  sole  result  of  sovereignty  –  your  veins  are  pure  and  filled  with  magic  that  serves  you  well.  women  like  you  don’t  have  the  privilege  of  a  choice,  after  all,  and  when  you  are  swayed  to  sides,  it  is  obvious  which  you  will  fall  under.  beauty  is  cruel,  purity  is  evil.

you  struggle  after  your  graduation  –  you  teeter  between  east  and  west.  in  the  east,  your  family  awaits  your  return.  there  is  a  life  for  you  in  the  budding  city,  in  the  elegance  and  luxury  of  your  family’s  fortune.  but  here,  there  is  a  cause  that  you  have  already  pledged  yourself  to.  it  is  a  battle  that  occupies  your  mind  and  your  heart  and  your  lungs  as  you  start  a  new  life  among  your  peers  and  fellow  wixes.  you  write  home  a  year  after  your  graduation  and  announce  that  you  won’t  return.  yet.  in  the  script  that  you  have  memorized  most,  you  promise  that  you  will  come  home  some  day,  but  not  before  this  war  is  fought.  you  tell  your  parents  not  to  be  ashamed,  to  be  proud  of  who  you  have  grown  into  and  to  watch  with  pride  as  you  do  what  they  would  have,  had  they  come  instead  of  you.  and,  you  live.  you  are  a  wicked  girl,  but  it  is  who  you  are.

wanted  connections:

unrequited  love  ––  i’m  just  a  sucker  for  it  –  the  kind  that  she  didn’t  even  see  coming,  the  kind  that  made  them  wake  up  in  a  cold  sweat  and  scream  into  their  pillow.  wilkes  doesn’t  –  get  attached.  ever.  yet,  they  still  sneak  glances  at  you  when  they  think  you’re  not  looking.  she  laughs  a  little  too  hard  at  your  jokes.  she  isn’t  as  mean  to  you  as  she  used  to  be.  they’ve  watched  you  move  on  without  them  and  there’s  nothing  they  can  do  about  it.

finest  friend(s)  ––  the  very  people  that  they  met  during  their  first  year  at  hogwarts  and  never  moved  on  from.  attached  at  the  hip,  she  is  always  showing  up  with  gifts  and  stories  of  her  life,  memories  of  the  old  days,  everything  in  between.  there  is  nobody  else  that  wilkes  would  really  stand  up  for  in  the  way  that  they  do  for  you  and  you  can  always  feel  her  loyalty.

wilkes  assigner  ––  in  my  app  i  said  it  was  a  boy  but  ignore  it.  the  wix  that  she  first  introduced  herself  to  and  you  said  “wilkes?”  and  she  was  like  “yeah.”  i  just  think  it’d  be  a  fun  connection  to  have  and  maybe  you  never  let  them  forget  it  and  they  always  roll  their  eyes,  but  they  don’t  actually  mind  it  as  much  as  they  claim  to.

unlikely  friends  ––  as  in,  the  nice  wix  to  ...  the  wilkes.  you’re  a  bit  on  the  softer  side,  a  kinder  soul  that  doesn’t  seem  to  mind  the  faults  and  terror  of  wilkes  and  they  are  entirely  grateful  for  it  –  even  if  they  don’t  show  it.  you  balance  each  other  out  in  a  way  that  just  feels  natural,  nothing  is  forced  and  she  is  (  a  little  bit  of  )  a  better  person  from  it.

anti(s)  ––  i.e.  full  time  haters  <3  maybe  you’re  too  much  like  wilkes,  maybe  you’re  too  different,  maybe  you’re  just  good  and  you  know  that  she’s  not.  either  way,  you  see  each  other  in  public  and  you  glare  at  each  other  across  the  room  before  getting  into  an  embarrassingly  dramatic  argument.  could  also  be  a  significant  annoyance.

actual  enemies  ––  as  in  much  worse  than  a  hater,  you  cannot  stand  wilkes  one  single  bit  and  your  arguments  are  less  dramatic  and  more  intense.  there  is  real  hatred  between  the  two  of  you  and  a  simple  ‘sorry’  isn’t  going  to  fix  it.

[zecretsanta]

FIC: Four Times Hazuki Kashiwabara Almost Lost Her Kids (and One Time After They Found Her)

To: @mortellanarts​

From: @grumpsterkitty​

For mortellanarts for Zecretsanta 2020 – “Lotus and her kids on Christmas”. This story mentions a near miscarriage.

AO3 LINK

(1)

It was an accident.

An honest accident.  Not like the ones that would happen at home.

She asked to watch the surveillance tape, after, once she had seen the doctor and she had reassured her that everything was fine.  Even in black and white, she could see the horror on Wendy’s face as she tripped over the electrical cord.  She replayed the moment when Wendy stumbled into her, knocking her into the copier.  Watching as her pregnant belly seemed to compress to an impossibly small size.

If she had lost the girls, she probably wouldn’t have been able to forgive Wendy.

To be honest, she hadn’t forgiven Wendy.

Which wasn’t entirely fair; perhaps the bulk of the blame was on the repair technician, or whoever decided to put the copier against the west wall, which had fewer power outlets, or whoever built and wired the building to begin with.

The blood - her blood - looked dark grey on the video.  It looked innocuous, like spilled soda.

She left the job three months after the twins were born, when she was sure they’d all be able to transfer to her husband’s insurance.

(2)

She cursed under her breath as she dropped the first aid kit.  The alcohol wasn’t even in here, she remembered, as she saw the band-aids scattered across the ground.  A tiny drop of blood slid down her ear and onto the Ace bandage.

The doorbell rang just as she managed to find the alcohol in the clutter under the sink.  She sloppily splashed some on a cotton and glanced at herself in the mirror.  The blood hadn’t gotten on her outfit, at least.  The doorbell rang again, and again, and again, as she barreled down the stairs.

“Dammit, when did you get so impatient?  Girls, Liz is early, are you done with -?”

She was cut short when she entered the dining room and saw their dinner plates still on the table, barely touched, and her daughters nowhere to be found.

“Girls?”

The doorbell ringing continued, but she ignored it.  She went through the rest of the house, picking up the pace as each one was empty.  She was only upstairs for what, ten, fifteen minutes?  Just long enough to change and put on her damn earrings. She called out their names as their babysitter kept pressing on the doorbell.

In panic and rage, she stormed to the front door and flung it open, ready to scream.  But it wasn’t Liz, just Nona and Ennea standing there with popsicles in their hands.

“We didn’t realize the door would lock behind us,” Ennea explained.  The grating music from the ice cream truck got louder as it came down their street.

Hazuki allowed herself a sigh of relief before she chastised them.  “You left, without even asking, to get dessert, before you finished dinner?”

Nona just shrugged while Ennea at least had the decency to look embarrassed.  “Mom, come on.  You know they’re the only one who have the blueberry ones we like.  We’ll still eat our dinner.  We promise.”

“We promise,” Nona reiterated.  “Even the carrots.”

“Maybe half the carrots?” Ennea said, a grimace on her face.  “I read if you eat too many, you can turn orange.”

“You eat too many blueberry popsicles, you’re going to turn blue.  You have a perfectly reasonable portion of carrots on your plate and I expect them to be all gone when I’m done.”

Her daughter’s expression changed, from disgust to worry. “Mama, what happened to your ear?  Daddy … he didn’t come by, did he?”

“No.”  Hazuki kneeled in front of them.  “Remember that paper I told you about?  He can’t come here or he’ll get in a lot of trouble.  It’s just been a little while since I wore earrings and my holes must have closed up.  I tried to force it through and I shouldn’t have.  Now finish up your dessert and eat your dinner.”

Her twins exchanged a glance before heading to the dining room.  She took a deep breath and went back upstairs to finish getting ready.  As much as she had wanted to wear her new jewelry, she could see the earlobe swelling up.

There would be time for wearing earrings, later.  Now that she didn’t have to worry about her husband ripping them out of her ear.

(3)

It started to drizzle, but she stayed on the bench. She could see Deanna about to cross the street into the park.  She had her hand on the stack of hundreds in her purse.  Deanna waved at her and Hazuki clenched her teeth.

It was silly.  Nobody had tailed her, she was certain.

Deanna sat next to her, seemingly uncaring that the bench was wet. Hazuki handed over the envelope of cash without a word.

“It’s definitely done?” Deanna asked.

“I think he could appeal, but he probably won’t.  He didn’t actually want the girls.  He just wanted to hurt me.”

“I hate men.”  Hazuki must have made a face, because Deanna laughed.  “I can hate men and still be a hooker.”

“I thought women in your price range called yourselves ‘escorts’.”

“We’re all the same.  Just because I don’t stand on a street doesn’t make me better.”

“Well.  Thank you.”

The smile faded off Deanna's face.  "I've done this before. That wife wanted to get out of a prenup and take his money. Which I could respect. Guy was an asshole. Do you have a picture of your kids?"

The sudden shift in topic left her mental gears spinning for a moment. She supposed there was no danger in it; she had researched Deanna thoroughly before emailing her.  She dug into her bag and pulled out her keys, with the keychain the girls made for her last year.  The picture inside the heart-shaped frame was of the three of them, the girls flanking her on either side, all of them smiling.

As she handed it to Deanna, the other woman looked like she might cry.

"I see my boy a few times a year, and that's it," she said finally.  “My ex didn’t have a problem with what I did when he got to benefit from the money I made.  Then I found out he was having an affair and he needed to tell the court I was an unfit mother so I wouldn’t get custody and he wouldn’t have to pay child support.”

“System is biased against women.”  She took her keys back and tucked them back into her purse.  “I work hard, take belly dancing lessons, and already started dating again.  That was enough to make the judge question if I was a good mom.  If you hadn’t been willing to –”

“Nobody’s going to protect us.  We have to do it ourselves.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments as the rain started to taper off.

“What does your ex do, exactly?”

Deanna snorted.  “He works for a health insurance company.”

“Any idea how good their firewall is?”

(4)

“Excuse me? Hello? Does anyone work in this hospital?!”

The nurse who came over looked exhausted, with dark bags under her eyes; any other day, Hazuki would have felt bad being so harsh, but she had been there for almost ten minutes and hadn’t gotten a single answer.

“Which kid is yours?” the nurse asked in a near monotone.

“Nona and Ennea Kashiwabara. I got a call they were brought here.”

“Ah, the twins.  Yes.  I’ll find their doctor.”

“Wait, are they okay?”  The nurse seemed to ignore her as she walked down the hallway.  “Can someone just tell me if they’re okay?  What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and almost took the man’s head off when she turned around.  He was entirely too tall, with a well-chewed pen stuck behind his ear.

“I’m Detective Lynch.  Can I help you?”

“I just want to find my damn kids!”

“Kashiwabara, right?  The staff here are a little overwhelmed, but your kids are in good hands.  And your girls are okay.  Nona has a scrape on her knee, but that’s the worst of it.”

“Did you interrogate them?  They’re minors. You can’t –”

He held up a hand.  “I met the detective who rescued them at the pier.  I rode with one of your girls here.”

“Did you say the ‘pier’?  The – but – I was told they were found in a building in Nevada.  Where – what the hell happened to them?  They were missing for days!”

Lynch opened his mouth as if to respond, but suddenly seemed distracted by something just off to her left.  She turned to see what he was staring at, but he reached out and took her hand.

“We’re looking into it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “When the nurse comes back, go be with your daughters.  Take them home.  I’ll give you my card.”

He barely took his eyes off her as he pulled out a business card and scribbled something on the back.  He handed it to her and walked off without another word.  His cursive was sloppy, but she could clearly read the message – not safe, text me, I’ll call you.

“Mrs. Kashiwabara?  Your girls are in room 407.”

When she turned around, there was no one there but the tired-looking nurse.

“The … the policeman who found the kids, where is he?  Is he still here?  Can I talk to him?”

“No, ma’am.  I think he went back to the station.  407 is this way.”

She realized she was clenching her fists and had crumbled up Lynch’s card.  But the writing was still legible.

(+1)

“Are you really sure you’re both okay with this?”

Nona cracked open the oven and clucked her tongue.  “Not quite.  And yes, mom, although it’s a little late to ask again now.  And stop eating all the deviled eggs, or you won’t have room for dinner.”

Hazuki rolled her eyes; before she could grab another egg, Ennea swiped the plate out from under her hand.

“Need me to help with anything?”

“Sure mom, you can make the cranberry sauce.”  Nona handed her can and an opener.  Hazuki sighed heavily as she cut the lid off and schlorped the dark red jelly tube into the bowl.

“There, sauce is made.”

“It’ll be good to see Mamoru again.” Ennea told her.

“Oh, you’re on a first name basis now?”  Nona teased.  “What happened to Detective Watanabe?”

“He hates formality and you know it.  Did you know he shares a name with a porn director?”

“Seriously?”

“Girls.”

“It’s true, though,” Ennea insisted.  “The guy did a film called Virgin Rope Makeover.”

“Did Mamoru tell you that?”

“No, mom, the internet is a thing.”  Nona peeked in the oven again. “Ah, finally.”

Hazuki tamped down the urge to remind her daughter that the turkey pan would be hot and heavy and to be careful.  She had never been one of those mothers while her girls were growing up, but ever since … ever since, it was hard not to be overprotective.  As soon as Nona had the turkey out, Ennea put in the pie.  And then the doorbell rang.

“Okay, please no mention of porn directors,” she told her daughters.

Ennea rolled her eyes as she set a timer and followed Nona out to the living room.  When Mamoru came in, he had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the doorjamb.  He inexplicably had a large cardboard box in his hands.

“Hey, so, uh, hi.  I brought wine, but then I realized I didn’t know if you liked red or white, to I got both, but the girls couldn’t drink it, so I got grape juice, but then I realized I didn’t know if they liked red or white, so I just got both of those, too.”

Nona took the box from him and grimaced as if she hadn’t anticipated how heavy it was.  “No worries.”

He shrugged out of his coat and Ennea giggled as she took it from him and put it on herself.  It was so big on her it was practically a dress, and when she held up her arms, it was clear her hands were where his forearms were supposed to be.

“I call it … Three and a Half,” she declared.  Hazuki smiled and Nona chuckled, but Mamoru looked puzzled.

“Oh,” he said finally.  “’Cause I was Seven.”  With that, he let loose a loud guffaw.

“Go on,” Ennea told him.  “Dinner is basically ready.  Do you feel like carving the turkey?  Mom and I usually butcher it when we try.”

“Uh, sure.”  He followed Nona as she hauled the box of beverages into the dining room.

As Hazuki put her arm around Ennea, she heard Nona ask, “Is it true you share a name with a Japanese porn director?”

(fin.)