#the kind i simply cannot pull off during finals season | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Unprofessional

as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕

MSBY Black Jackals x female reader

TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)

You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.

In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.

Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present.

“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”

There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.

You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response.

“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises.

And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.

Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not.

“Yes and… no.”

His brows draw together. “No?”

Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming.

And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.

But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.

Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.

The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little.

Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing.

There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye.

At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”

And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.

“Anytime.”

—

You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-

“Bokuto.”

-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.

He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either.

It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.

They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist.

Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it.

There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.

They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line.

And maybe finally they’re realising that.

Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body.

But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out.

Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”

It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”

He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”

Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”

It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.

Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”

—

It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.

“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.

Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.

Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”

The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”

You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”

There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.

“Oh, he did.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”

You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.

“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder.

“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!”

With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”

And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.

He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.

Too close.

“Atsu-”

“We really do care about you - love ya, even - which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”

The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.

His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-

Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you.

“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.

Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch.

“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench.

A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”

It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde.

Hinata and Sakusa.

It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream.

Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.

(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)

When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”

His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him.

Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit.

“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”

There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.

Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”

Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”

It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”

And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises.

He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver.

Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.

It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off.

It’s too much for your brain to take.

Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-

Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him.

There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.

And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.

Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.

“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference.

The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.

And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere atsumu miya #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere hinata shouyo #yandere sakusa kiyoomi #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere hinata x reader #yandere sakusa x reader #tw non con #i honestly don't know how i feel about this one #but it's done #i hope y'all like it anyway #i'm posting it before i can overthink it

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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 23

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Upon closing his eyes, the feelings returned. The earth crumbling above his head. The weight of the walls, thick and solid with stone and mud pressing against him. He couldn’t breathe. No light in sight. No way to even tell which way was up, or if there even was an up.

Tallpaw jolted awake, and the pain returned to his body. His front leg throbbed and he didn’t dare test its movement. His shoulder burned as if vicious claws had raked across his flesh and taken all the skin with it. Someone was gently grooming his fur. Hawkheart's familiar grizzled shape leaned over the muddy form of Woollycloud. Tallpaw's head shot up as he remembered what had happened to him. For a moment he thought Woollycloud might be suddenly dead as well, but his flank rose and fell faintly beneath his gray fur, still dusty with soil.

“Don’t move so fast,” Lilywhisker’s gentle voice came from behind him. She placed a paw softly on his back when he tried to stand. “You’ve had a bad shock. Your wounds need to be cleaned.”

“The tunnels--the tunnel, i-it--”

“I know.” Lilywhisker said gently. “You’re alright. You’re safe now.”

“Did he wake up? How do you feel Tallpaw?” Dawnstripe’s head poked through the entrance. She looked distressed and exhausted.

Tallpaw tried to shake the dizziness from his head. “No--listen to me, my fathers down there, some cat has to go get him. I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“No cat can help Sandstone now,” Hawkheart rumbled. Tallpaw just stared at the medicine cat blankly. That couldn’t be right. They had to go help him, he had to go help him.

“Hawkheart, please,” Lilywhisker hissed.

“It’s the truth, and there’s nothing any cat can do about that. If he really was down there, then he’s gone.”

“No.” Tallpaw snapped.

It wasn’t even shock, it was to him a statement of fact. He was surprised by the force in his voice, as if he said it with enough will behind it it would simply become true. No, It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t, not after what had already happened. He simply refused to accept that that was the case.

Dawnstripe pressed her muzzle against his head. “I’m sorry, Tallpaw.”

“No!” Tallpaw yowled, “he couldn’t have gotten trapped, no one knows the tunnels better than him. It couldn’t have--”

“Tallpaw,” Woollycloud’s mew creaked. “It’s the truth. The other tunnelers checked every other possible entrance. They’ve been looking since sunset. They’re all collapsed.”

Tallpaw ignored the pain and pulled away from Lilywhisker despite her protest, standing on shaking legs. “Didn’t you see him? He was down there, we can’t just give up!!”

Hawkheart hissed and looked like he wanted to push Tallpaw back down into his nest but all he did was give a dismissive gesture to Lilywhisker and Dawnstripe with a curt jerk of his muzzle.

“Thank you for your assistance Lilywhisker, but I think my den will need space for now. Crowding will just add to the stress. I’ll take it from here.”

Lilywhisker nodded sadly. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything. Whatever little help I can offer you, since...I assume you’ll be working alone again for a bit.”

She turned and led Dawnstripe from the den, who looked mournfully once at her apprentice before following. Hawkheart disappeared to the back, leaving Tallpaw with Woollycloud.

Woollycloud put a large paw on Tallpaw’s foreleg while he continued to desperately babble, “if we just dug through it, Woollycloud, if any cat can, you could! there has to be some way, please, I can’t take this. Not after Brackenwing, it’s not fair! Sandstone had to have found some way out, he wouldn’t let himself get trapped! It doesn’t make sense!”

Woollycloud pressed his nose against Tallpaw’s forehead, and his voice was hollow with exhaustion and grief. “I do know the tunnels. I know how unsafe they are. The most skilled tunnelers in the world cannot command the earth, nor can we stop it when it breaks. I promise you, if there was anything I could do...Nothing would stop me from doing it. Your father was a brave cat, but he is a cat as mortal as the rest of us. He is in StarClan’s paws now.”

Tallpaw opened his mouth to argue further, and shut it again. His voice was gone. This was too much. The world itself was snatched out from under his paws, he felt like he was trapped in a worse kind of tunnel again. The force of it pressing on his heart. Stone filling up his stomach and pulling him to the ground. He couldn’t speak. He just lay his head in his paws. How could Sandstone just not exist anymore? He had been alive not a few hours ago. Feeling just as confident and invincible as he always had. The last thing he’d said to Tallpaw was what a disappointment he's been. And now, how could he ever make it up to him? How could anything ever get better?

“It’s not fair, It’s not fair, I never even got to...I couldn’t even say sorry,” was all he could choke out. “Why Sandstone? Why Brackenwing? Why not any other cat?” Why not me? He wanted to say.

“I wish I knew Tallpaw. I really do.” Woollycloud rested his muzzle on Tallpaw’s neck as he lay there.

Outside, there were no voices. It was early dawn, the sky fading into a pale misty gray. To his dismay, out in the center of camp he saw only an empty ring of purple flowers where Brackenwing had been. He had missed her vigil completely. She was already gone.

He hadn’t even had time to properly accept it. All that remained of these cats who had been such a massive part of his life were simply swept away without a trace from his world, and they weren't ever coming back, and that was all there was to it. The bad dream he thought he was having was broken. There was no waking up from this.

No one outside would speak until the sun touched the horizon. He knew it was meant to be a time of reflection and peace as they let go of their clanmate and wished them well on their journey to Silverpelt. Tallpaw didn’t feel at peace. He only felt trapped with the heavy thoughts in his head. Wherever his mother was, however she took the deaths, Tallpaw’s heart couldn’t take seeing her. He wondered numbly how much loss and grief a cat could be struck with before they simply crumbled to pieces where they stood.

They would continue only communicating in signs and gestures until the mourning patrol returned after sunrise. Tallpaw stared into the quiet empty camp, watching daylight slowly creep across the rain soaked ground. On a normal morning, the night patrols would be returning and the clan would be bathing in the first light of sun since the rain clouds had begun to part. It seemed so wrong for the weather to be this cheerful while he felt so dreadful. Had he expected the sun to stay down and the world to remain shadowed in the dark? It would have at least felt more appropriate. But the sun rose anyway, in spite of Tallpaw’s feelings.

At last the patrol returned, filing into camp and sitting below Tall Rock, waiting. Heatherstar made her way through the crowd and leaped up to address them. For a few heartbeats she was still, as if composing herself, before she finally spoke.

“WindClan has been blessed to know so many moons without loss, not since our beloved Badgerstar took her leave of us. Four seasons have now passed and she has watched over us and blessed our clan with time to recover. But with all great blessings, there must be hardships that follow.”

She nodded to the elders who sat at the base of the rock alongside Reedfeather. As the elders of the clan who had served the longest, they would give the final words of remembrance. Fennelpelt stood and dipped his head to the clan, and his old tired voice rang out.

“Remember our sister Brackenwing and our brother Sandstone as we continue to serve our clan in their memory. May StarClan light our path.”

“May StarClan light our path.” the clan echoed back, their silence broken at last.

Heatherstar continued, “as a clan we must go on. I will confer with my elders and deputy about how we will address ShadowClan’s threat. Brackenwing will not die in vain. I assure you we will protect our land.”

With that the crowd began to break apart. Reedfeather gathered the able warriors to him and began to organize the patrols. They would need extra to make sure their territory was clear of threats. Hawkheart had returned to the den.

Woollycloud greeted the medicine cat as he entered. “I’d hoped we would share the morning of remembrance again,” he said. “It has been so long…Surely we can’t let the tradition be gone forever?”

Hawkheart grunted “I’m not sure the clan remembers how. They are too on edge to rest after the attack. Not to mention the younger ones have never even experienced it. They will remember in their own way.”

Woollycloud sighed. “How is Brackenwing’s family?”

Hawkheart shook his head. “As well as one might expect. No one wants the first death a cat experiences to be their own mother. Briarpaw...” he trailed off. “...Briarpaw may be out of commission for me a bit longer. And Shrewpaw shares his father’s temper. Anger is one of the only things louder than grief after all. That cat is living proof of it.”

The ceremony of remembrance that Woollycloud lamented was done seasons ago, where the whole day after a body had been taken away, the clan would sit together and share stories of the fallen, remembering their skills and their gifts to the clan. The tradition had died out sometime during the famine moons before Tallpaw was born, when so much death happened so the stories could not be fit into a day and the clan had no time to spare that wasn’t spent hunting. It was one thing Sandstone once said he was glad of. “If the famine did anything, it taught us to be strong. We do no favor’s for our dead by weeping for them.”

Tallpaw, unlike him, was not used to death. How could this ever feel normal? How could it be over so quickly? But that’s what warriors do, Tallpaw thought, and his father’s voice echoed in his head. Good warriors hold their heads high and march onward. If you can’t do something about it, you just go on. No point in wallowing in your sadness. Even now, despite everything, taking his father's words to heart hurt. He couldn’t imagine ever getting up again, let alone returning to his duties. But then, I've never really been a worthy warrior, have I? Sandstone knew that.

Tallpaw watched blearily as Reedfeather organized and sent off the border and hunting patrols. Just like the sun rising, the day simply...continued. Everyone had to return to their duties to feed and protect the clan, just as they’d had to yesterday. How could everything just go on when nothing was the same at all? It would never be the same again.

***

“Has there been any increased pain? Burning?” Hawkheart asked, sniffing the wound across Tallpaw’s shoulder.

Tallpaw did not reply.

“He has not complained of any,” Woollycloud responded for him.

Hawkheart huffed and turned to the back of his den, mumbling something about marigold.

Dawnstripe was of course the first cat to come see him. Tallpaw managed to turn to touch noses with her when she entered.

“Heatherstar isn’t upset with you, is she?” Tallpaw asked weakly.

Dawnstripe blinked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“About what I did in the battle. How badly I messed up. I don’t want it to be your fault. I couldn’t remember what you taught me.”

Dawnstripe blinked in surprise and then in sympathy as she shook her head. “Of course not Tallpaw. You must remember what I told you about blaming yourself.”

“I want to be better. I will be. I promise. We can start training again as soon as Hawkheart lets me.” Tallpaw said firmly. No matter how much the idea of returning to "normalcy" dragged him down, he had to try.

Dawnstripe sighed and touched her nose to his forehead. “Tallpaw, you must give yourself time. You know I will understand if you need longer to get back on your paws.”

“The rest of the clan keeps going. I can’t do nothing. I have to make it up to them.”

Dawnstripe held his gaze “The fate of the clan is not your burden alone to bear, nor is it any one cat’s. It’s not fair to hold yourself responsible for what happened, or hold yourself responsible for fixing it. Not for what happened to Brackenwing or Sandstone. We are always ready to give our lives for our clan, and sometimes it can’t be prevented.”

Tallpaw curled his lip as he pawed absentmindedly at a stray twig on the ground, to avoid making eye contact with his mentor. “Brackenwing may have died nobly. What happened to my father wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t have happened. It was pointless and stupid and he’s just gone for no reason. If that rogue hadn’t been down there messing around…" Tallpaw sat up suddenly, clearly taking Dawnstripe aback as her gaze flicked to the wound on his shoulder with sudden concern, but Tallpaw couldn’t think about it as a burst of anger flared through his hollow chest. “And where is he anyway!?” he demanded. “Did he just run off again? Will he not even face us after what he caused?”

“What happened was an accident, Tallpaw--” Dawnstripe began, but she stopped, seemingly sensing that the words would likely do no good for him. “The visitors spotted us as we traveled home this morning. They should be here soon to speak with Heatherstar.”

“Good,” Tallpaw said. “I want to be there when they do. And he’d better be there.”

Woollycloud started to protest, but Dawnstripe shook her head at him. Almost on cue, soon after the visitors scent touched the roof of Tallpaw’s mouth, and he stifled a growl as he spotted them. He couldn’t see if Sparrow was there.

Heatherstar came forward to greet Bess, and the molly dipped her head to her respectfully.

“We offer our sincerest condolences. Brackenwing was a kind and wonderful cat. May she rest peacefully.” Bess mewed. There seemed to be genuine sadness in her voice and in the face of her companions. Tallpaw couldn’t help feeling defensive. They barely knew Brackenwing. They didn’t truly know what WindClan had lost, and their words were empty as far as he was concerned.

Heatherstar nodded solemnly. “We thank you for your words. But I’m afraid we must discuss, it is still unclear to us what happened in regards to Sandstone.”

“Sandstone? The big pale ginger tom, yes?” Bess sounded confused, and Tallpaw wanted to scream.

Algernon spoke up “Is it true then? Something did happen to him as well?”

“You don’t know? Sparrow... did not tell you?” Heatherstar questioned.

Tallpaw couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer as he thrust his way out of the den “And where is Sparrow?” he demanded. Shocked eyes that snapped to him, as he hadn’t spoken much or left the den since he returned, but Tallpaw ignored them. “Has he run off again? Is he too ashamed to face what he did?”

“I’m right here.” Tallpaw barely heard the quiet voice. Sparrow had been in the back of the group, blocked from Tallpaw’s view by Mole and Reena. He didn’t try to shift forward to meet Tallpaw’s gaze either. Was he trying to hide from him?

Reena made a small distressed sound at Tallpaw's accusation as everyone’s eyes turned towards her and her companion. “Sparrow said...he didn’t want to talk about it yet. I wanted to give him space. But it’s not fair to say it was his fault!” she protested.

“Reena, what in the stars has happened?” Bess asked.

“It is his fault!” Tallpaw cried. “Sandstone chased him down the tunnels, he wasn’t supposed to be down there! Sandstone never would have gone into those tunnels if it weren’t for him!”

The clan began muttering, Plumclaw got to her feet with fur beginning to bristle. Heatherstar raised her tail for silence, but her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why had you gone down there, Sparrow?”

At last Sparrow came forward. His fur was unruffled to Tallpaw’s surprise. He gazed around him evenly. It’s like he doesn’t even care!

“It was an accident,” Sparrow said simply. “I thought I smelled those ShadowClan cats you warned us about. I wasn’t with the others so I didn’t know there had been an attack that day of course, or I wouldn’t have been on the moor. I ran down what I thought was a rabbit hole to hide, because I remembered what you all said about how important it was for us not to be spotted by them, but the tunnel was longer than I thought. I was only going to hide for a moment, and then leave, but then Sandstone appeared down there. He was furious with me, and I didn’t know why. He demanded that I follow him out, and said he knew a short cut, a different way then where I’d come in. The shortcut went down narrow passageways and when he squeezed through an opening...I don’t know, I think something was knocked loose, and from there, the whole thing started shifting. I turned and ran back the way we came, and by pure luck found the entrance I had come in originally and escaped. I thought Sandstone was behind me but...I guess he wasn’t.”

“That’s fox-dung!” Tallpaw spat. “Why would Sandstone do that if the first entrance was closer? And it doesn’t explain why you just left him behind after he tried to help you!”

Sparrow met his gaze evenly, and Tallpaw fought the urge to leap across the clearing and claw that smug apathetic look off his face. “What could I have done? I don’t know anything about the tunnels. I trusted that he did, that’s why I followed him down those passageways. I didn’t think to question why he did it. It must have just been a mistake.”

Tallpaw looked wildly around at his clanmates. “You can’t possibly believe this! It’s absurd! No cat knew the tunnels better than Sandstone.” He turned his furious gaze back on Sparrow, who looked as unbothered as ever. “How dare you try to blame him for this! You’re not telling the full truth!”

“But…” Hazelnose mewed quietly “it is true Sandstone has been caught in collapses before. It happened not a quarter moon ago when he brought Tallpaw down into those same tunnels.”

Tallpaw stared at him in disbelief. How could one of Sandstone’s own tunnelers say something like that?

“That was my fault.” Tallpaw insisted. “I didn’t listen and dug too fast in the wrong place. Sandstone always knew what he was doing.” “He’d been getting bold and reckless.” Hazelnose continued. “I looked up to Sandstone as much as any tunneler. But we’ve known that tunneling has been getting more dangerous each season. He had too much faith in that tunnel system. These accidents have always happened sometimes and...and this time it caught him. It’s horrible but I have no reason to believe the visitors would lie to us.”

“You have no reason to blindly trust them either! How could you betray Sandstone’s memory like that? P-Plumclaw, what about you?” He turned to the slouching gray molly. Surely Sandstone’s own apprentice wouldn’t take this cowardly rogue's side. Plumclaw stared at her feet. She didn’t seem to know what to say.

Tallpaw felt himself growing desperate.“W-we can’t let him get away with this! He doesn’t care about us! I don’t believe him, I won’t! My father would be alive if it weren’t for him!” his voice rose into a piercing caterwaul, and when he finally stopped to breathe he saw the eyes of his clan mates staring wide. No one spoke up with him. They just stared at him with shocked concern. Tallpaw breathed heavily, his poultice crusted fur bristled. Hawkheart at last came from his den and put a paw on his foreleg.

“You need to stop making a scene,” he growled quietly. “This isn’t how a clan cat behaves--”

“Shut up! I don’t care!”

Tallpaw ignored Hawkheart’s stunned look as he smacked his large paw away. He was sick of being looked down on when he knew he was right. Hawkheart looked as if he was going to cuff him back for talking to him in that way, but Tallpaw turned his back on him. He couldn’t care less about the medicine cat’s temper right now. “Heatherstar, please, you must believe me. We must do something!”

Heatherstar met his gaze evenly. “There is nothing to be done, Tallpaw.”

“No--”

“Enough." Her voice was firm but gentle. "You speak from your grief. We will tear ourselves apart looking for someone or something to blame when tragedy befalls us. What happened was a horrible accident. The visitors have shown kindness during their time with us, and I cannot believe that any of them would bear us ill will. We must move on.”

While Tallpaw had screamed, Sparrow had stayed as still as ever. It wasn’t fair. When Brackenwing was killed because of his misstep, guilt clawed Tallpaw raw, gutting him from the inside out. It still was. Here Sparrow was, having pointlessly and recklessly put a cat in death's path, and he didn’t even care. Sparrow looked away from him and simply went back to sit with Mole and Reena. He would carry nothing with him from this, because he had no reason to care about any cat other than himself. How dare he sit there perfectly fine with his actions while Tallpaw tore himself apart inside. Sparrow was the one who should have been buried. But there was nothing he could do now.

Hawkheart shoved him roughly back and snarled, “I should give you another scar for talking to me like that. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Tallpaw did not speak but he did not flinch away from Hawkheart either. Dawnstripe had come and whispered something to the medicine cat that Tallpaw couldn’t hear. The gruff old tom sniffed and stepped back to his den, hissing over his shoulder. “Your apprentice must be taught to control himself. Trust me, you don’t want me to teach him.”

Growling at Dawnstripe shut Tallpaw up instantly. He hung his head as his mentor sat beside him. Why did he have to be so much trouble for her?

Meanwhile Algernon stepped up to Heatherstar, hanging his head low and mewed, “we’d never wish to cause you or your clan strife, Heatherstar. We swear to you, Sparrow is a good cat, and he’d never mean anyone harm. I’m so sorry for the misfortune we’ve brought with us.”

“I do believe you, Algernon.” Heatherstar said. She sounded tired. “Our clan owes you for how you’ve helped us in the past. But...I regret to admit, I don’t think it is a good idea for you to stay longer. Our territory may only get more dangerous from here and I can’t guarantee protection from our enemies.”

“We understand completely Heatherstar,” Bess said sadly. “We have mourned our dear Hen in this place long enough. It is time for us to move on. We wish all of you the best, and pray for peaceful times to find you soon.”

That was that. Many cats came forward to wish the visitors well. Even Dawnstripe left his side to say farewell to Bess. Tallpaw sat alone in the shadow of the medicine den.

Eventually, Reena hesitantly came over to Tallpaw. “I’m sorry, for everything that’s happened to you Tallpaw,” she said earnestly. “I know your grief. It’s awful to lose family like that. I hope one day you heal from your pain.”

Tallpaw didn’t so much as meet her eyes as rage still rolled in his stomach. He didn’t want her sympathy now, and he didn’t want to forgive her for siding with Sparrow when it was so obvious what he did wrong.

She raised a paw as if to reach to him, to say something else. But she didn’t. She mewed a quiet farewell and returned to her mother, tail dragging behind her. He would have hated to see the warm molly that way just yesterday. Some part of him said maybe he was being unfair. Reena had been kind and trustworthy every day he’d known her. But the anger and grief inside him washed over those feelings like a gust of wind blowing away paw prints in the dust.

The visitors would simply leave. Sparrow would never have to think about or face consequences for what he’d done to them. It didn’t matter what anyone said. If Sparrow wasn’t here, Sandstone would still be here. His father was gone, the cat that caused it would simply leave, and Tallpaw would be stuck drowning. If they had turned the visitors away, this would have been prevented. For all he knew, if they didn’t have outsiders on their territory, ShadowClan wouldn’t have had as quick an excuse to attack. Maybe their small patrol wouldn’t have been so viciously ambushed. If they’d listened to Sandstone and not messed with outsiders, maybe none of this would have happened. But that maybe wasn’t good enough. Everything was done now, and nothing would fix it.

Sparrow’s impassive yellow and blue eyes met his one last time as the group left the camp. Tallpaw hoped Sparrow saw and felt all his burning hatred as he glared back at him.

You can run away now. They’ll let you get away with it. They won’t punish you for what you’ve done. But I know. I know what kind of cat you are. If there’s any justice in the world at all, someone will make you pay for it.

Sparrow quickly flicked his gaze away, and then he was gone.

chapter list / previous / next

#FRU23 #chapter 23

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eralisse · 4 years ago

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Brothers Conflict: Season 1 LN - Ch17, Sec2 & Sec3

*_* I have upgraded to being able to translate the light novels [slowly, very slowly] (and am very proud of myself right now).

Continuing on with my quest to translate materials relating to the Iori/Kaname conflict and their characterizations, I bring to you this translation from Volume 5, where Kaname withdraws from the competition for Ema's heart.

This is not the whole chapter, because that would take too much effort, and the other sections touch on the other conflicts. (If you're looking for the whole thing, there might be someone else who's translated all of it before.)

Comments and discussion at the end of this entry.

Brothers Conflict Translations Index

That day, it was late when I left school.

Because of what happened with Azusa-san, I was completely late for class, so much so that, after school, I had to receive supplementary lessons.

(It’s gotten completely dark.)

Even though it was the end of summer, the sun went down at this time. Conversely, the city lights were starting to illuminate the night sky.

From Hinode High School, until the nearest JR train station, Iidabashi Station, there was a small slope down. I began to walk down that street.

Then, right after that, from behind me, I heard a car horn.

???: “… That’s no good. Having a cute girl walking down the street at night all by herself.”

The car pulled up beside me, and a blond man leaned over from the driver’s seat.

Kaname: “It’ll be too late once something happens. Here, I’ll give you a ride.”

Ema: “Kaname-san.”

I gave a small sigh.

Ema: “I think it’s more likely that something will happen when you’re with someone.”

Kaname: “Haha, as always, Imouto-chan has a good sense for clapbacks.”

Ema: “I should think that Kaname-san would have had plenty of experience by now.”

Kaname: “Well, enough of that. Anyway, get on in.”

Ema: “It’s fine, I can walk.”

Kaname: “... Get in.”

(Ehh?!)

That was in a super serious voice.

Kaname: “It’s not my style to be pushy when inviting women. However, my preferences don’t matter right now.”

Ema: “... Kaname-san?”

Kaname: “This is the last thing I’ll ask of you. Please, get in.”

He said, and then came out from the car.

(Kaname-san…)

Kaname-san had an expression I had never seen until now.

Neither angry nor sad, much less his usual easygoing manner… I had never seen such a face before.

(Th-this is…)

What should I say? I held myself back…

At that moment, the word “determined” came to the front of my mind.

Kaname: “… Here.”

Kaname-san opened the door to the passenger’s seat. I gave a small nod, and got into the car.

---Then, Kaname-san turned the car east and started driving.

It was in the complete opposite direction from Kichijouji, where our apartment was in.

Ema: “Kaname-san, where are we going?”

Kaname: “You have time, right?”

Ema: “Eh?”

Kaname: “... It won’t be long, but it’s impossible to be done within an hour. If you have dinner prep or something like that, please ask Kyou-nii.”

Ema: “Ah, no, I’m good for today.”

It happened to be that, when it was clear that I would be at supplementary lessons after school, I called Ukyo-san during lunch, and got it to be that he would make dinner instead.

That’s why I had time this evening.

Ema: “But, what is this conversation about?”

Kaname: “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Kaname-san said, while continuing to look straight ahead.

Kaname: “I want to go to a place where there’s nobody else. A place where none of our brothers will go… When we get there, we’ll talk.”

Then, Kaname-san glanced over at me for just a second.

Kaname: “Today… Just for now, please trust me.”

Then he looked forward again. After that, Kaname-san continued to drive, and said no more.

---

(......)

Outside the window, Tokyo’s night scenery flowed past.

Eventually, the car began to turn south.

Kaname: “...... Here’s good.”

When Kaname-san opened the passenger seat door, there was the smell of salt and the sound of waves.

Kaname: “Well, come on out.”

Ema: “... Alright.”

Tokyo Bay spread out before me. It appeared to be a place open to the sea, with not much to obstruct the view.

A cool wind that started to blow.

Kaname: “Humans are interesting, aren’t they.”

Kaname-san said, and began walking slowly to the beach.

Kaname: “Even though there are people of all personalities, when it comes to having important conversations, for some reason they will want to go to the ocean. I wonder why that is?”

Ema: “......”

I remained silent, following a little ways behind.

Kaname: “When you look at the ocean, do you feel at ease? Or, do you think that it bestows some special strength?”

Kaname-san stopped and faced me, turning his back to the ocean.

Kaname: “If it has that kind of power, I would really like to have it right now.”

Behind him, I could see the large seawall that protected Tokyo Bay from the waves.

Kaname: “Hikaru came today, you know.”

Ema: “... Yes.”

Kaname: “He said this cheerfully, ‘With this, she’s at 12 wins, 0 losses, and 1 bystander.’”

Ema: “Eh?”

Kaname: “...... Such a terrible thing to say.”

Kaname-san murmured.

Kaname: “However, he’s really perceptive about that sort of thing. He sees through to the most important parts intuitively. That’s why he can be an author, I guess.”

There, Kaname-san smiled bitterly.

Kaname: “However, unfortunately for Hikaru, that score is already outdated. It’s 11 wins, 0 losses, and 1 withdrawal now. And soon, it’ll be 10 wins, 0 losses, and 2 withdrawals.”

Ema: “W-what are you saying?”

Kaname: “Do you love Iori?”

Kaname-san said suddenly.

Ema: “Eh…”

Kaname: “I’ll ask one more time. Do you love Iori?”

Ema: “Uh, um…”

Kaname-san smiled faintly. It was a sad and pained smile.

Kaname: “I want to know if I should apologize or not for what happened at the summer festival.”

Ema: “... Ah.”

I remembered what had happened in that tree grove back then.

Iori-san’s body heat as he touched my cheek. The feeling on my lips. And finally, Kaname-san’s face.

Kaname: “I was the one who invited you there. However, as a result, at the time, at that place, that happened. That’s why I was thinking I had to ask you--”

Kaname-san cut himself off.

The surge of a rather large wave could be heard.

Kaname: “Ask you if you loved Iori, and if that kiss was a lover’s kiss, for instance.”

Ema: “Um, that’s…”

Kaname: “Answer me.”

Kaname-san stared at me intently.

The wave earlier hit the seawall, and a crumbling sound was heard.

Ema: “... I don’t know.”

I answered.

Ema: “That was… It happened so suddenly… And afterwards, I haven’t had a chance to speak with Iori-san properly.”

Kaname: “In other words, it was a one-sided action on Iori’s part?

Ema: “...”

I nodded.

I didn’t feel like I could only deny Kaname-san’s words.

Kaname: “In that case, I’ll say this.”

Kaname-san’s voice got even lower. It was a low, yet distinct… and sad voice.

Kaname: “If you don’t love Iori, stay away from him.”

Kaname-san clenched his fist tightly before his chest.

Kaname: “Iori has not yet returned to being human.”

(Eh!?)

My eyes widened in surprise.

(Hasn’t returned… to being human?)

Kaname: “Iori is… still, unable to love another person. He hasn’t returned back to that stage yet.”

Kaname-san’s each word echoed deeply to my heart.

Kaname: “Iori is struggling desperately right now. To use a metaphor, he is like a drowning man. That’s why, if you heedlessly go to save him, you will be dragged in… and will drown together.”

Then Kaname-san looked straight at me.

Kaname: “I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Kaname-san’s face looked extremely pained.

Kaname: “Loving someone means-”

Kaname-san turned away from me, and looked out at the ocean.

Kaname: “-to understand your partner, recognize them, and then, to accept them. It is not to make you understand, recognize, and accept yourself. …Such a thing cannot be called love.”

Another wave came in. Then the sound of it crashing into the seawall could be heard.

Kaname: “I think you are a very kind and attentive woman. And you won’t be too picky at your partner. I think that’s wonderful. … However.”

Kaname-san turned toward me.

Kaname: “You can’t be that for Iori right now. If you do anything like that with compassion or sympathy, let alone simply good intentions, you will get pulled in and drown.”

A slightly larger wave than before came in. The sound it made crashing was just as loud.

Kaname: “Even so, my job is to listen to people’s souls.”

Kaname-san lowered his gaze slightly.

Kaname: “Since that incident in middle school, I have always watched over Iori. And, protected him. In the hopes that he can become a person who can love another once more.”

Falling silent there, Kaname-san then slowly raised his head, and spoke in a clear voice.

Kaname: “Because… love is mightier than the sword or the pen, mightier than anything else, and is the single most important thing.”

Kaname-san stepped forward. The distance between us narrowed.

Kaname: “However, I need a little more time. It is still too early right now.”

Kaname-san put his hands on my shoulders.

Kaname: “Please leave Iori to me. And, give your kind heart to someone else. That is my wish for you.”

Ema: “Kaname-san…”

Weight and warmth came from the hands on my shoulders.

It felt as if they reached the center of my body.

Kaname: “Iori is my precious little brother. That’s why, I want to protect him. And, you are my precious little sister.… That’s why, I will protect you.”

Kaname-san’s arms dropped from my shoulders, and wrapped around my back and waist.

I felt Kaname-san’s warmth and the strength of his embrace through my whole body.

Kaname: “... With all that I have.”

The loud crashing of waves echoed all around us.

At Kaname-san’s back, I saw the seawall blocking the large waves that rushed from the open sea.

---

Comments:

1. As a novice translator, there's a running metaphor going through this section that I got super excited to notice. Did anyone else see it? Either in the actual text (if you have the light novels) or in a previous translation elsewhere? Anyone? Okay. It's the seawall and the waves. The waves and the sound of the waves change as Kaname speaks, with the loudest impact being at the end. And at the end, Ema is relating Kaname to the seawall, protecting her from waves coming in from all over. In terms of literary analysis, it's a little obvious because there is no description of anything else, but still. I hope I got it translated properly.

2. There are a few lines where I scrapped the literal Japanese wording and rewrote it because the dictionary definition I got didn't make sense at all. I used context to guess at what was meant. This applies to the line Ema says about Kaname's experience with clapbacks, and the sentence Kaname says about being picky at partners.

3. Story-wise, if I'm not mistaken, this is the only time Kaname tells Ema exactly WHY she needs to stay away from Iori. Before, in Vol3, he only tells her she has to stay away. And to anyone who's ever had to ask anyone to do anything, if you don't say why, you run a high risk of your words being ignored because you didn't convey the urgency.

4. If anyone's read the light novels, and would like to correct any of the above, please do so. It's difficult for me to read the text without spending a lot of time with the dictionary, so it's very possible for me to miss something. (In other words, I haven't read every section in the LNs thoroughly yet.)

5. Gahhh, I love Kaname so much.

#brothers conflict #asahina kaname #kaname asahina #translation #season 1 chapter 17 #iori asahina #asahina iori

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ev-pierce-writes · 4 years ago

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The Heir

The Heir Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, masturbation

Notes: I recognize this isn't actually what season 3 will be like but I just need season 3 to come and its not coming fast enough so I'm taking it into my own hands to write whatever I want. I just want the little green alien baby and his space cowboy dad to have a cute reunion is that too much to ask? Self-insert, with reader as "you" but I avoid Y/N stuff. Narrator's perspective refers to Mando as Djarin, Din's perspective is written as Din. Some back and forth with that. I took some liberty with the characterization as well. The rest is my own!

---

The throne room was silent save for your voice echoing from the high ceiling.

"Tell Mon Tarrow that his trade agreement still stands, as long as he keeps up his end of the bargain," you said to the hologram flickering before you. "We get our shipments, he gets his. That is all."

With a swipe of your hand, the hologram disappeared and you leaned back into your seat. This job was difficult, organizing and controlling the most heavily trafficked trade routes in the galaxy. It was not one you had chosen for yourself. But for generations, your family had been in control of the planet Nhora and its lunar outpost, maintaining its status as a neutral party throughout several civil wars, uprisings, revolutions, and revolts. You had inherited that neutrality. Despite attempts from both the Republic and the Empire, your rule had withstood their attacks, keeping peace with your people and ensuring the wealth of successful trade routes.

Turning to your advisor at your elbow, you began to discuss the redistribution of the year's crops when the large doors across the hall opened. It was uncommon for someone to interrupt your daily briefings, though not disallowed. You had an open-door policy when it came to your people; anything that needed your attention should be brought directly to you. It fostered communication and understanding. But the individual who interrupted you was not one of your subjects and was, to put it simply, completely unexpected.

Your advisor immediately silenced, as dumbstruck as you, and the only sounds came from the creature huffing and puffing his way toward you, mumbling some garbled non-language.

Creature was the best way to put it. He was small and green and wore a sack for clothes. Though you couldn't see his legs, they must have been tiny, for he wobbled very slowly towards you. And his ears, good grief those ears, were so large his head teetered back and forth as he walked. The throne room was already large, but it was made even larger by the tiny figure before you, a child, you realized, as he stumbled closer. You eyed the child suspiciously before giving your advisor a look that said, who is this? She only shrugged.

Perhaps this was one of Skywalker's new playthings, you thought. That strange Jedi was always passing through with some oddity or another to trade for supplies. He knew what you liked, gems and stones from other lands, flowers with unique scents, fabrics spun from the thread of ice spiders (very dangerous to come by). In exchange, he had free access to your palace as he pleased before heading off again to who knows where. But this was new. Skywalker never brought you living things that moved of their own accord.

You stood, gathering the long skirts of your robe and stepping off the dais upon which your throne sat. You weren't particularly fond of children, but the sudden appearance of one purposefully crossing the long marble hall and heading straight for you was intriguing. You met the child halfway, stooping over to get a closer look at him, and noticed a fine layer of hair on his wrinkled head.

As you bent over, the child looked up at you and cooed, a little smile on his face. He was admittedly a bit cute, though incredibly ugly.

"Hello, little thing," you said, addressing the child directly. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, of course, just gurgled strangely. A tiny three-fingered hand reached toward you as if asking to be picked up. You ignored him and stood up straight instead, turning to a guard and sending him out to look for the enigmatic Jedi who was sure to be close behind.

Apparently, the child didn't like being ignored. You felt a sudden tugging at your collar as if someone had taken hold of your necklace and was trying to yank it from your neck. Looking down, you could see the child was still at your feet, hand in the air, but now his eyes were half-closed. You realized with a mix of horror and curiosity that the little one was pulling at your necklace, though not with his fingers but rather with his mind. Perhaps you could have tried to stop him, withheld the piece of jewelry from him, but you were too dumbfounded to try. Why he wanted the chain around your neck you were unsure, but the child would have it one way or another.

The necklace broke with a snap and flew toward him, which he caught in one green paw. The astonishment hung in the room; most had never seen the force in action like this. But you knew.

The force was with this one. Now, you were certain he had to be with the Jedi.

"Luke Skywalker," you said with accusation in your voice as he finally entered the throne room, following behind your guard. "I am not taking care of this child for you if that's what you're expecting. And I want my necklace back."

Skywalker smiled as he entered and kneeled to address you. It wasn't necessary to bow before you, but the Jedi had always been a bit of a stickler for tradition. You took it as a sign of friendship.

"Don't worry Your Majesty, Grogu and I will be on our way shortly. He just needs a... special diet that I cannot provide for him."

"Grogu?" The little child looked up at you when you said his name. His mouth was wrapped around the metal ball that had hung from your neck moments before. It had been a gift from your mother, a symbol of the planet you ruled over, to be passed on if you had a child of your own. Now it was covered in baby slobber. And yet, your heart softened at the sight of the green child. Relenting to his pleading eyes, you reached down and picked Grogu up, holding him at arm's length as he played with the metal ball.

"Where did you find him?" you asked Skywalker as you led him from the throne room toward the banquet hall, your advisor trailing behind you, just as curious about the creature as you.

"I did not find him," Skywalker replied. "A Mandalorian did."

A Mandalorian? Your heart rate picked up, curiosity piqued at the thought. You had only heard stories about their kind since their fall from the Council of Neutral Systems. And of course what your grandmother had told you of them. They were a conflicted group but you knew one thing for sure, they were not friends of the Jedi.

"I presume you are to train him now."

"To the best of my ability. He is the same species as my master, surprisingly strong despite his size."

In the banquet hall, you sent for a meal, setting Grogu down on the table and sitting before him. He was fascinating, despite his babyish mannerisms and the ball covered in his spit. But what you really wanted to know more about was this Mandalorian. The rumors had not escaped you, spreading swiftly through the trade routes, reports of the Darksaber's resurfacing, of those who tried to claim it. The planet Mandalore itself was relatively uninhabited, having been ravaged by years of war and conflict. Your trade routes were one of the only ones that extended that far to the outer rim as most didn't find it worth the trouble.

But if the Darksaber was truly back, and someone had claimed it, the Mand'alor may make a recovery. That could mean many things for your people, possibly a surge in trade or a new rival that was willing and able to fight for space. Mandalorians were known to be the greatest killers in the galaxy, after all. But you were getting ahead of yourself.

"The one who found Grogu, are they the one who claimed the saber?"

Concern flickered across Skywalker's face. "Yes, I believe his name is Din Djarin."

The baby's ears perked up at the name, glancing back and forth between the two of you. His giant eyes blinked slowly as he eyed your face.

"Is the Mandolorian worthy?" You were of course talking about the inheritance of the Mand'alor throne.

"He delivered the child. And refused the saber, at first. There is hope for those who are given the chance of ultimate power and deny it."

Refused it? So ruling a creed and a planet had not been his choice. Much like you. Perhaps there was a chance for the Mand'alor after all. You watched as Skywalker traded your necklace for an entire laas fish, which Grogu swallowed whole, fins and all. It was a disturbing sight.

---

Din Djarin could be a man of stealth when necessary. After saying goodbye to his son, he had accepted a ride through hyperspace from Boba Fett and Fennec Shand. But they had only been willing to go so far as Wobani, and he would have to make his way alone.

Though Bo-Katan had let Din leave with the Darksaber in tow, he could tell it had been with reluctance, and Din was sure this wasn't the last he'd see of her. Cara Dune had offered to follow him, but Din declined. This was a trip he had to make on his own.

Wobani was not the most welcoming of planets. The abandoned labor camps that had once been full during the reign of the Empire stood crumbling to dust. Some people had taken root here, making do with what was available.

But this was not where he needed to be. Din needed to keep moving, keep his eyes on the future, keep his mind off of the sad look on the little one's face as he'd been whisked away by a Jedi. Din felt empty without Grogu on his hip, hidden in his satchel or tucked away in his crib. Sure, Din missed having his ship, but he missed the child so much more.

The metal ball at his belt weighed heavy. He should have let him keep it.

But there was no turning back now. Din would allow himself one night of rest before moving on. There were no boarding houses on Wobani, though he'd asked around. And it wasn't like anyone wanted to house a Mandalorian. So Din settled for an empty, abandoned building, one that likely had held prisoners at one time or another. Now, there was nothing but a dirt floor and a wall to lean against. But it was better than nothing.

As the sun set, Din shut his eyes, ready for the next day to begin.

He was awoken not by the sun, but a grunting noise to his left. Din opened his eyes and adjusted his helmet to night vision, locating a massive heat signature through his visor. A large animal, crawling on all fours, appeared across the room. It hadn't yet noticed Din, more preoccupied with sniffing the ground with a large, whiskered nose. But even from this vantage point, Din could tell the creature had many giant sharp teeth, perfect for tearing at his flesh.

Maybe if he stayed absolutely still... Nope. That large nose turned in his direction and had him spotted in an instant. The options lay before him, run or fight, and neither seemed good. Shooting a blaster in this confined space was almost guaranteed to cause a ricochet and at the moment, the beast was blocking the exit.

But not the only exit. The beast began to approach, its long slithering tail making disgusting sounds as it dragged across the floor, sinewy muscles rippling beneath hairless skin. It moved slowly, but that didn't mean much. It probably thought it had found its next meal, a man in a suit of beskar. Din stood slowly, trying not to urge the beast to move any faster.

Last night, when choosing a spot to sleep, Din had noticed the small window above him. When you were constantly on the hunt or being hunted, having multiple escape routes was a necessity. And the window had seemed like a good enough option. Now Din hoped his judgment had been right. The beast was getting closer, giving him only moments to make a decision.

To reach the window, Din would have to turn his back on the beast, which he didn't particularly want to do. He would need a distraction.

The beast paused in its approach and then lunged, as Din aimed his vambrace, spraying it with fire. It reeled back, howling in pain, and he knew that was his chance. He jumped, fingers catching on the ledge and hauling himself through the narrow space. Din barely fit, especially with all his bulking armor and the few possessions he managed to carry. The beast he'd left behind was enraged, clawing angrily at the walls and snapping at his heels.

At last, he was able to swing himself from the window to the roof of the building, finding refuge up high. He laid back with exhaustion, listening to the sounds of the beast as it finally gave up on its query and left. Din wanted nothing more than to sleep, to forget the pain in his heart and calm his rapid breathing. Not much scared the serious Mandalorian, and despite the danger he had just narrowly escaped, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Above him, the stars shone dimly through the dusty clouds of Wobani's atmosphere. Somewhere out there was the kid. Din hoped he was happy.

---

Luke Skywalker and the child did not stay long. You were surprised to find that you actually missed the little bugger as you watched them fly away, a large supply of laas fish in tow. Though you were sure you'd see them again; Grogu's appetite was insatiable.

But there were more pressing matters at hand. If the Mand'alor were to resurface and become strong again, you had to be prepared. You wanted to have the upper hand and hoped that the trade relations that were already established with the desolate Mandalore planet would help in gaining their trust.

Though your advisors had recommended you give up on the planet, even demanded it, you had been unwilling to do so. The few who did live there desperately needed Nhora's help and supplies. They had little to offer in return and tended to be more of a burden than an equal partner, but it felt wrong to abandon that outpost. Now you were glad that you'd stuck to your convictions.

It was time to call a meeting of council members. Little was left of the Council of Neutral Systems since the fall of the Empire, but those who remained were essential to the maintenance of free trade. And if the Mand'lor were to return, the council needed to be prepared.

"We don't even know if this Mandalorian wants his planet back," General Tarrow was saying, his hologram flickering slightly across the table from you.

"It's better to be prepared," your advisor, Zena, replied. "Her Majesty has maintained trade relations with the planet despite their small numbers. We can use this to our advantage and get ahead of any potential military action they are willing to take."

"The fact that they could take military action is exactly why we shouldn't pursue relations with the Mand'alor," Tarrow countered.

Zena sighed, exasperated by the back and forth conversation that had been going on for the last twenty minutes. You could tell she was getting frustrated. "They deserve our respect, don't they? Innocent before proven guilty?"

"They've already proven themselves guilty, or didn't you study Nhora's history?"

The General made a good point, but it was always better to approach with peace than antagonism, you had learned. "I have reason to believe the one who claimed the Darksaber is of a different disposition, worthy, even," you said in Zena's defense.

"From who?" asked another council member.

"Luke Skywalker."

"The Jedi? I don't trust him."

"Well I do," you said, putting your foot down. "There's not much to be done at this time anyway. The reports are only rumors, after all. But we need to be open and prepared for the Mand'alor to return."

The meeting adjourned. Though no conclusions had been reached, you felt a shift coming.

---

When Din awoke next, it was the sun was up. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep again. Move. That was all there was to do.

Scrambling down from the roof that had become his bed, Din headed back toward the port he had come in from, hoping to find someone stupid enough who would accept a ridiculously small amount of credits in exchange for passage to the nearby planet Mandalore. He knew the task was impossible before he even asked the first merchant he found.

Time to change tactics.

Across the shipyard was a small transport ship. Din watched from behind some crates as a couple of droids loaded and unloaded cargo. It appeared the ship was manned entirely by droids and was getting ready to take off again soon. It would be a risk, boarding the ship and hijacking it. But smaller craft like this tended not to be very equipped for battle, and Din hoped he could use that to his advantage.

Keeping low to the ground, Din moved swiftly toward the transporter, staying out of sight of the droids. He hid next to the loading ramp, quickly climbing inside as it began to rise, signaling its imminent departure.

The cargo hold was tiny. The hulking Mandalorian couldn't stand up straight without hitting his head on the ceiling. Tight spaces didn't bother him, but he hoped that the rest of the transporter wasn't this small. Otherwise, this was going to be a long trip.

With the hum of the thrusters, the transporter lifted into the air, leaving the airspace of Wobani's shipyard. Din would wait until just before the ship entered hyperdrive to make his move.

The angle of ascent leveled and the flight smoothed, indicating they had made it out of the atmosphere and were heading swiftly toward their destination. The door leading to the cockpit from the cargo hold was thankfully not locked. With a shove, Din had the door open and the first droid in a headlock before it knew what was happening. One blaster shot to the central processing unit and the droid dropped, though not before making enough noise to signal to its copilot of Din's intrusion. And of course, it had a blaster.

The shot rang out, ricocheting around the tiny space, pinging off the walls and Din's beskar armor. Silently he thanked his laser-proofness, even as the shot knocked him off his feet and hurled him against the door of the cargo hold. His head slammed into the metal wall, blurring his vision. He would definitely have a headache after that one.

Stupid droids.

With a groan, Din heaved himself to his feet. Realizing that a blaster wasn't going to work, the droid stood, preparing itself for hand-to-hand combat. If Din hadn't been fighting for his life he may have found the situation funny, fighting in such cramped quarters. But the clouds hadn't quite cleared from his head and he barely noticed the tell-tale sign of the droid winding up for a punch. The droid swung out and struck Din squarely in the temple, sending reverbs through the beskar.

Dank farrik. This was ridiculous. He needed to focus, not be so distracted, but by what exactly? Din steadied himself and aimed his vambrace, blasting the droid with a shot that vaporized its CPU instantly.

Silence.

Shoving the now unmoving droids as best he could into the cargo hold, Din took control of the ship, rerouting the navigation system. Punching in the coordinates of the planet Mandalore, he shifted quickly into hyperdrive. The trip would take less than a day. But it was several hours of peace and for that Din was thankful, even if it meant no distractions from the big brown eyes that blinked at him every time he closed his own. They were so sad and--

Stop. Sleep. Move on. But they called out, even in his dreams.

Mandalore was even more deserted than Wobani. As the transporter eased out of hyperdrive, Din spotted several round constructions, which turned out to be domes as he got closer. Where was he going to land? There didn't appear to be a shipyard or trading post to accept incoming starships. No one connected to the commlink, requesting his flight information.

The planet was silent and gray.

Of course, it couldn't be that easy. As he prepared for descent, the rear detectors picked up on an approaching x-wing. Damn. Apparently taking out a pair of drones and hijacking their ship wasn't a free pass. Someone wanted their cargo back. And this ship was not equipped for that fight.

All Din could do was dodge as the x-wing rained fire. So much for a smooth landing. With a lurch, the left thruster was rendered useless and the transporter began to fall, rather than sail, toward the gray planet. Hopefully, Din could guide the transporter into a graceful crash and not kill himself on the way down. Seemingly recognizing that the ship was a lost cause and on its way to a crash landing, the x-wing swooped away, at least giving Din one less thing to worry about.

The ship lurched through the atmosphere, speeding too fast toward the ground and threatening to burn up as it went. The temperature inside the cockpit began to rise and Din felt lightheaded, likely due to the sudden force of gravity. He jerked up on the joystick, praying for a miracle.

With a defining blast, the transporter made contact with the ground. Din managed to remain conscious as the ship hit the sand, but only long enough to bring it to a slamming and skidding stop. And then everything went black.

It was hot. Too hot. And his mouth was impossibly dry. Din was barely aware of a pair of arms hooked under his armpits, dragging him away from the wreckage of the transporter, saving his life.

---

A year passed. Grogu and Skywalker visited again several times, though shorter than before. Little changed in the child's size, but he was stronger than before. You didn't even wait for him to steal your necklace, just handed him the small metal ball like a pushover as Skywalker restocked his ship.

And though you asked, pushed even, for details on the Mandalorian, Skywalker had little to say. The warrior seemed to have disappeared into hyperspace.

This lack of news was the exact reason why you were so shocked to find, not many days later, a suit of beskar armor standing in your throne room.

Zena had been explaining the benefits and disadvantages of increasing farming output as you walked to the throne room, but the pair of you stopped short at the door. A tall, gleaming figure stood in the hall, looking out a window, seemingly unaware of your presence. At the sight of him, the guards who had been flanking you drew their weapons, training their blasters to his back and stepping in front of you. It took you a moment to recognize the distinct shape of the helmet and the signet on his shoulder plate but this was unmistakably a Mandalorian, the Mandalorian, who had unwittingly laid claim to the Mand'alor throne. You held up your hand, willing your guards to stand down and let you pass.

"I'll admit, I am surprised to be in your presence, Mandalorian," you said. "Though not surprised that you made it in unseen. You'll have to teach me that one."

The man, Din Djarin you remembered his name to be, turned to face you, his helmet disguising whatever thoughts may have been written on his face. Of course, Din had known you were there, knew when you would arrive, knew exactly how many blasters were trained on him. But when he turned, the serious, threatening woman he expected to find was not there.

When Din had landed on Mandalore, it had been only your ships that he'd seen come and go. There was no official port or trading post, the locals explained, but Nhora's supplies came anyway, finding a way in the inhospitable desert environment that the remaining Mandalorians called home.

Reports of Nhora were mixed. Some were grateful for its help. Other's looked upon it with disdain, taking any acceptance of assistance as a sign of weakness. And rumors about the Nhora queen varied widely. Some claimed she didn't exist, was only a fabricated figurehead to maintain peace. Others described her as fierce and domineering, ruling with an iron fist and cultivating the illusion of order through force.

At first glance, Din knew you were none of these things. You were regal, of course, very obviously the one in charge. But your stance was warm and inviting, the soft features of your face drawn up into a smile. If anything, you felt more like an equal, rather than a royal who demanded authoritative respect. It was difficult for Din to smile, especially since the loss of everything he'd called family. But your smile was contagious. If not for his helmet, Din might have given his whole intimidating facade away. He was drawn to you, to your lack of fear, but he wouldn't let it show.

Djarin, though beneath the helmet he smiled against his will, appeared as the complete opposite to you. His demeanor was quiet and daunting, but he stood stiffly before you, as if unsure how you would receive him. He didn't bow or kneel or even address you by your title. And yet, though he could probably kill you and all the guards that surrounded you in the time it took to say his name, you felt no concern in his presence.

The memory of your grandmother's stories lurched into the forefront of your brain, dashing warriors, powerful and dangerous, yet righteous and honorable at heart. It made your heart beat faster. He made your heart beat faster.

"I heard you were looking for me," was all he said, modulated voice surprisingly calm despite the rush of emotions that flooded him. A man of few words, he got straight to the point. But inside he was wondering why you eyed him like that, with curiosity and diffidence, not afraid of him at all.

You nodded silently and took your place on your throne, unsure of what you would say next. How that news had reached him escaped you, as you hadn't been actively searching him out. Yes, you'd been wondering what had happened to him, what he planned to do. But you hadn't expected to meet him, not so soon. "Din Djarin, rightful heir to the Mand'alor throne. I wasn't anticipating this meeting for quite some time."

Though you couldn't see his eyes, the Mandalorian seemed to squint at you suspiciously through his visor. The sound of his name rolled easily from your tongue as if practiced over and over. "How do you know my name?"

"I know of the child you rescued. The one with the force." The Mandolorian took a step forward as if wanting to hear more. You leaned your elbow on the arm of your throne, one finger twisting nervously at the scarf of your headdress, anticipating his response.

"You've seen him?"

"Yes, a few times now. Skywalker prefers Nhora for restocking supplies. And Grogu is particularly fond of stealing things with his mind and swallowing his meals whole." The comment was meant to be a joke. Djarin did not laugh. He was watching your delicate fingers instead. "He is strong. Capable. A Jedi in the making. And you seem very attached. If I didn't know better I would think you were here for news of the little one."

"I didn't come searching for Grogu."

"I know. The Mandolorian don't simply come when called. They come when they need something. I heard what you did to Moff Gideon. How you refused the saber. I would be very surprised if there weren't some dangerous people after you right now."

Din sighed, knowing you had deciphered his intent without needing it explained to you. You were kind, but you were also sharp and perceptive, not wanting to waste time with small talk. Din liked that.

"I've seen your ships land on Mandalore. Nhora is the only one who still trades with the people there. I figured--" You realized he was asking for help but didn't know how to. Zena shot you a knowing look, recognizing that you had been right when you'd called that council meeting over a year ago. "I figured you could be an ally."

An ally. Perfect. This was exactly what you predicted. You wanted to rub your success in those snobby Neutral System faces, but you held your composure. This was your chance to make a connection, establish a rapport that would benefit you both, and protect your planet at the same time. If he needed an ally, you would offer it.

"Tell me what you need."

Djarin stood momentarily in silence, contemplating the consequences of what he was about to ask for. Was it this easy? Were you this willing to help every poor soul that came along? "I need-- I need a ship. And supplies."

"That's it?" It was suspiciously little if you had any inkling of the position Djarin was in. If he had seemingly disappeared for the past year, what struggles had he endured to make it here, to your planet?

"That's all I can afford. I don't have many credits left."

You laughed. You couldn't help it. "Credits? That's what you're worried about? I don't want your credits, Djarin."

Didn't want your credits? No one of sound mind gave anything away for free. You may have been generous, but there was no way you were that stupid. There had to be something else, he knew. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is that you rebuild a creed that was once my people's allies. And you defend us, the way you used to, from the inevitable. The Empire is still out there. It's naive to think they won't set their sights on us. But you-- you can stop them. So tell me what you need, everything you need, and I will help you. Do we have a deal?"

Zena, who had remained silent during the interaction, now leaned down and spoke into your ear. "Are you sure this is smart, Your Majesty? If the Council hears of your actions, they may not be very pleased."

"Zena, the Council has no control over what I do with my personal resources. So, deal or no deal?"

Djarin stepped forward, approaching you where you sat on your throne. Though you were seated above him, Djarin was tall enough to still stand at your eye level. He reached out a gloved hand, asking for yours to shake, you thought. His beskar glittered in the setting sun filtering in through the windows and sent you spiraling into thoughts of what he looked like beneath it all. But instead of shaking your hand, he simply held it and sunk on one knee before you, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles and bowing his head. Had Djarin not been wearing a helmet, you were sure he would have kissed them. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said softly.

The act was ridiculous. Din knew that. You knew that. But it made your heart flutter even more than before.

"Oh for Maker's sake, this is absurd. Stand up, Djarin," you said, suddenly embarrassed, though you had to admit the sight of a Mandalorian kneeling before you would have made your ancestor's faint on the spot. "Let's find you a ship."

---

You weren't exactly sure what Djarin's rule about his helmet was. Would he take it off? Leave it on? But he needed to eat, so you led him to a private room for dinner, in case that's what he wanted. It would be naive to admit you didn't like the thought of being alone with him. You wanted to know how true your grandmother's stories were.

"I hope it's enough," you said, gesturing at the spread of food before him. "Please let me know if you need anything."

Djarin stood silently for a moment before sitting down heavily into his chair. He seemed exhausted, and though you couldn't tell with all that armor, it wouldn't have surprised you if he was injured somewhere under there.

"Thank you. Your kindness is much appreciated."

"It is per our custom. I'll leave you to eat." You turned to go and leave him in peace, but he stopped you with a gloved hand on your wrist. Though a layer of leather separated your skin from his, Djarin's grip sent a jolt up your arm.

"Why are you being so kind?" It was a genuine question, one you didn't know how to respond to. Tell him the truth? Make something up? But the man before you seemed so earnest that it appeared best to be honest. So you sat, directly across from him, and began your story.

"My grandmother was a fair and just queen," you began, folding your hands in your lap. "Sometimes to a fault. She ruled on her convictions and morals, not tradition or law. In those days, the Mand'alor still controlled much of the outer rim and fought endlessly with the Jedi. Nhora remained neutral, accepting any and all who needed assistance, regardless of creed. A young Jedi took refuge on Nhora, and according to custom, was given full protection. This was something my grandmother believed to her core. Something we still practice today."

"So you're nice because your grandma said you should be?" It wasn't meant as a jab, but suspicion laced Djarin's voice.

You sighed and continued the story. "The young Jedi did not arrive alone. He was followed by a Mandalorian, out for vengeance and retribution. He stormed the palace, the first time in history that our defenses were breached. Fortunately, the Jedi was able to aid our guards in the Mandalorian's detainment. But not before my grandmother fell deeply and madly in love with him."

"In love? With a Mandalorian?" It was hard to tell through the modulation of his voice, but Djarin sounded shocked and more than a little suspicious.

"Perhaps it was all the beskar," you said, trying to make another joke. Djarin still did not laugh though he cracked an invisible smile beneath his helmet. "But yes. Of course, it's only a story, but my grandfather was of Mand'alor, so there must be some truth in it."

"You are a descendant?"

You nodded. You'd never met your grandfather, as fathers didn't matter much to the matriarchal line of rule, but now, here you were, sitting before another Mandalorian, and the cycle continued.

What Djarin did next gave you a shock for the second time that day. With a click and then the hiss of hydraulics, he lifted his helmet from his shoulders, placed it on the table, and began to eat. You barely reined in the expression on your face, narrowly avoiding blanching at the revelation of his face.

Suddenly, it didn't seem so strange that your grandmother had fallen instantly head over heels for your grandfather after all, considering the man you found beneath the helmet.

The Mandalorian that sat before you didn't have the mean, hardened look you expected. His expression was soft, lips smooth and slightly downturned into a natural frown beneath the curve of a prominent nose. He hardly seemed to notice your stares as he dug into his food, his dark eyes staying fixed on his plate.

Djarin's dark hair was tousled and in disarray, likely from being plastered under a helmet for so long. He had a disheveled beard, graying in some places, that made you realize he had probably been traveling for some time without a true place to stay or a real bed to sleep in. It was only then that you noticed the cut on his lip, the gash across his cheek, and the bruise under his eye. What had happened to him? What had he endured to reach Nhora?

Din still wasn't sure what was considered an appropriate or inappropriate time to remove his helmet. But he reasoned that if you were a descendant of Mand'alor, then this was appropriate. And despite his better judgment, he trusted you. Your story had made him think that perhaps your coyness earlier was not a result of his sudden appearance but a mutual attraction the pair of you shared. You were a complete stranger, a queen even, and yet he felt he had known you all along, as if gravity had pulled him toward you. You radiated warmth and acceptance, something he rarely received as a Mandalorian.

Din pretended not to notice your stare, but then you stood abruptly, and he looked up.

"Most people don't recognize me when I take off this whole thing," you said, gesturing to the clothes you wore. Din could tell you were trying to make a comparison to his helmet, all a disguise to maintain a physical and emotional distance from those around you.

You began to pull off your robes, layer after layer of the royal get up you disliked more than you let on. You unwound the intricate scarf from your hair, aware that Djarin was watching the whole time as your hair fell unbound around your shoulders.

It was all ceremonial, he knew, but Din had noticed when he first met you that you didn't seem particularly comfortable in your position. Now you stood in your loose underclothes, arms and shoulders bare, headdress and scarves discarded on the floor, and you relaxed. Your efforts were a mirror to his, showing your vulnerability and gaining his trust. And you did look different, not quite unrecognizable but somehow even smaller and less imposing than before.

You suddenly felt nervous beneath Djarin's gaze and felt it best to keep your hands busy.

Turning toward a cabinet on the wall, you began rummaging through it, looking for the antiseptic. You could feel Djarin's eyes now trained on your back, watching your every move. "I don't have any bacta spray in here, but we should at least clean up that cut."

You pulled your chair closer to his. The proximity was delicious.

"This may sting a bit," you said as you applied a swab to the gash in his cheek, fingers holding his face in place. Din didn't pull away but he did hiss lightly. Your body was so close to his own he could smell the scent of you, light and flowery like your planet.

"So, what else does the Mandalorian need from me?" you asked, trying to distract him from the pain.

Din grunted, though not in discomfort but to regain his focus. "The people-- I'm not sure what they need. I'm a warrior, not a ruler. I didn't ask for this. Mandalore is essentially deserted, those who remain have nothing and I don't know where to begin. The creed is fractured, scattered throughout the galaxy. I don't even think most of them want to be found. Especially not by me."

You placed a gentle hand on his chin to tilt his head closer to yours, giving you access to the cut on this lip. Thin lines creased Djarin's eyes and forehead, marring his golden skin with worry and tension. His eyebrows knitted in constant concern. You wanted to smooth that look from his face but it was more than you thought he'd allow. Instead, you focused on his mouth, not that that helped your erratic pulse and quickening breath either.

The tenderness of the act caught Din off guard. A royal, stooping to his level, rolling up her sleeves to do the dirty work, was surprising. He got the impression that you were a reluctant ruler, though he couldn't tell why. Nhora was obviously a prosperous planet, covered in glittering cities and sprawling trade ports. What he'd seen of the people they seemed happy and healthy. How could you be so successful and yet so averse to the job you performed so well?

"You're a good man, Djarin. I understand your reluctance. I was not meant to be queen either. I didn't want to be queen, and yet the responsibility was thrust upon me. But you are a good father as well, and I've known the best fathers to make the best leaders."

"I'm not a father. Not anymore." The words were spoken with a deep sadness.

"I think the Child would beg to differ. He lights up like a glow frog when he hears your name."

"A glow frog?"

"Native to Nhora. The resemblance is uncanny."

Din chuckled at the image, knowing the kid could probably just swallow one whole. "Has he grown?"

"Perhaps a little, though it's hard to tell." You finished your first aid and leaned away. Djarin's questions made apparent his love for and connection to Grogu. How he'd managed to let him go in the first place was beyond you. You didn't have children and weren't sure if you ever would, yet their bond was enviable. "Somehow I don't think it's a coincidence that we crossed paths, Djarin. You and I and the kid."

Din wasn't sure what that meant. He didn't particularly believe in destiny, nor did he know how to respond, so he turned back to his food. Decades beneath the helmet had given him the luxury of hidden expressions and wordlessness. He didn't know how to act without its protection.

But something else was also forcing his speechlessness. Though your touch had left his skin, the ghost of your fingers remained, leaving him in silence. He was ashamed something so simple could affect him so intensely, and yet he was melting like ice beneath a warm sun.

And while you continued to speak of Grogu, of his obsession with metal balls and being held in the crook of your arm, Din's thoughts swirled not around the child but the soft touch of your fingers on his face. He realized had never been touched like that before, not that gently. And your hands were so smooth, unmarred and flawless from never having worked manual labor or been in a fight. They twisted in your lap, unable to stop moving despite the idle chatter you had fallen into.

You weren't sure why you couldn't stop moving. Was it Djarin's stare, the way he appeared to be listening to you intently though he never responded, or his large presence that filled the room, or just the excitement of meeting the man you had been thinking about for the better part of a year? You realized that you were rambling, filling the silence with your words, your hands wringing in your lap.

All of a sudden, a big hand reached out and covered yours. You silenced instantly. "You're going to twist your fingers off if you keep that up, Your Majesty."

A thrill jolted through your body. Most people addressed you by your title, out of respect. But the way it came from his mouth, in that lilting baritone, sent the world spinning.

"I should leave you, let you sleep," you said finally, needing to get away before your voice betrayed your heart's emotions. "I know you've had a long day. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

Maker, how you hoped he would stay. But Din Djarin would be gone in the morning.

---

The starship you had provided was more than Din could have asked for, large enough to accommodate his size and cargo, small and swift enough to fly fast and steady in whatever direction he required. Inside, his blaster, spear, and a new rifle found their place on the wall. Climbing into the cockpit, Din surveyed the array of buttons and flashing lights.

To the right, the joystick gleamed in the dim light of the shipyard hanger. It was topped with a square knob. A memory floated through Din's mind, the tiny claws of a green hand reaching out to grasp at the knob, the big ears and wide eyes and--

Pulling the metal ball from his pocket, Din unscrewed the square knob and tossed it aside. Miraculously the Razor Crest's hardware fixtures must have been similar enough to this ship's, and the metal ball screwed perfectly into place. He grasped it gently once more, before flicking a few switches and starting up the engine.

Keep moving. Always keep moving.

---

Djarin's touch lingered on your hands even as you fell asleep. You dreamed of him, of his face, tired but handsome, aged by worry and life, yet kind and full of that honor your grandmother claimed every Mandalorian of worth contained.

You dreamed that he stayed, protecting you and your people, the way your grandfather should have done. Perhaps your mother and sister would still be here if he had.

Those nightmares woke you, sweating and sitting straight up in bed in the near darkness. Soft light from Nhora's triplet moons glimmered through the window, bathing your room in a soft glow, easing the pain in your heart, and returning you to the present. You flopped back in bed, rolling onto your stomach to try to get comfortable.

"That kriffing Mandalorian," you sighed into the pillow. He occupied your thoughts as you drifted in and out of sleep, his eyes on yours, the softness of his face under your fingers, the way he'd let you take care of him, his hand steadying yours and bringing you back into your body. It tied a knot in your stomach and you cursed your grandmother for having given you such high expectations of the man. Yet they were expectations met.

And what if he stayed? Would you fall for him? Were you destined to do so, intertwined by some family history that fated you and him together? He must have felt the gravity too, the gravity that pulled you together and bound your lives.

You hadn't seen him without his beskar armor on, but you could only imagine what he might look like underneath it all, shoulders broad, skin smooth, back muscular and strong. Was he taught and wound, always ready for a fight, or soft and supple?

You'd been with men before. Plenty of them, in fact. They tended to fall at your feet, begging for the queen's attention and a chance to sleep in her bed. Nhoran queens never married, simply chose a man to be the one to continue on the line of queens that came before and the line that would come after. But none struck your fancy, none forced their way into your thoughts, none caused you to touch yourself with need when you were without their presence.

None like Djarin. It was a relief to orgasm beneath your hands, his face floating behind your eyelids. You came as the triplet moons set and the sun rose, as somewhere in the distance Djarin's ship was taking off, rumbling powerfully beneath his strong hands. The relief it brought you gave you several more hours of sleep, the best sleep of the past year.

You hadn't realized how starved you were for the Mandalorian until he was in your grasp.

---

The dense quiet of hyperspace allowed for sleep. Or too much thinking.

In this case, Din was doing the overthinking. In the holomessage he'd left you he'd tried to explain where he was going, what he was doing, that he'd be back. He didn't need to justify his actions to you. You'd given him permission to go about his business as he pleased, that you'd always be there for help if he needed it. But he felt he owed you some explanation.

There was so much to do, to plan, to look ahead to. And yet Din's thoughts surrounded only you and what he'd just left behind. Less than a day on Nhora and the planet called out to him, begging for his return. Or perhaps it was just you.

Din closed his eyes, willing sleep to find him, but only visions of you drifted through the darkness, your bare arms, your soft fingers, your face close to his, your scent. It was intoxicating. If he tried hard enough, he might be able to pick up that smell even now, lingering in the ship.

When he'd reached out to touch your hands, it had taken all his willpower to leave them there and not drag his fingers up your arm. It wasn't right, this sudden desire to touch you all over. You were just being kind. It was silly to think any further into it. And yet, the knot in his stomach and tightness in his pants said otherwise.

Din's eyes flew open, trying to rid you from his thoughts. Think about anything else, Maker be damned, anything but wanting to hold you, kiss you, drink in that scent forever and ever.

With a frustrated grunt, he stood and moved to the fresher, splashing cold water onto his face to relieve the tension in his chest. It didn't work.

"I don't even know your name," Din groaned into the silence of the ship, hands balled into fists and rubbing his eyes. It was useless. There was only one thing to do. With fumbling fingers, he undid his belt, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his pants. What would you think if you knew he was touching himself like this? But that only turned him on more, urging him forward to grasp his length with a rough hand. It only took a few pumps to finish, the fingers of his other hand gripping the edge of the sink as he grunted into the echoing silence of the fresher, amplifying the needy sounds.

He'd never let a woman drive him crazy. And yet you were going to do just that, already lightyears away.

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woodstockbtswriter · 5 years ago

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Assurance

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 1.84K

Summary: After a long day, you and Yoongi could both use a little reassurance.

Author’s Note: This story is part of a headcanon of mine where Yoongi meets you during season 4 of Bon Voyage.

GIF Credit: MONOSUGA

Assurance

“You kissed me last night, Yoongi. You kissed me, and then ignored me. You’ve been avoiding me all day. Yesterday, I was sure you liked me. But after today… I have no idea what to think.”

Yoongi’s brow furrowed deeper, his lips forming a pout. He loosened his grip on your fingers just enough to rub his thumb back and forth across the back of your hand.

“I thought you wanted to spend less time together on camera,” He explained, his tone questioning, “because of what the producer said. You were distant with me all day yesterday, yeah? I was just following your lead, trying to make things easier for you… Was I wrong?”

Relief kindled within you. You looked up into Yoongi’s dark eyes as he searched your face, your own eyes full of hope.

“So you didn’t want to ignore me?”

“No.” He scoffed as though surprised you had to ask. “Of course not.”

The corners of your mouth lifted as a smile started spreading across your face.

“So you want me around?”

Yoongi squeezed your hand, but his face was expressionless.

“Yes.”

He said the word so simply, so dispassionately, that if you didn’t know him, you might not have believed him. But you did know him, and you knew he meant it.

Your smile swelled in tandem with your heart.

“So you don’t regret kissing me?”

Yoongi was taken aback, a look of disbelief twisting his features.

“What? No! Why would you even think that?”

“You thought I had a crush on Namjoon,” You reminded him, your smile becoming a smirk, “So can you really blame me?”

“I guess that’s fair.” Yoongi grumbled, the tension leaving his face. “But listen, noona… I never would have kissed you if I wasn’t sure.”

His words awoke a swarm of butterflies in your tummy, but you kept your smirk.

“Sure about what?” You asked innocently as you stepped closer to Yoongi, leaving barely any space between your bodies.

A blush immediately colored his cheeks.

“Yah…” He groaned, but he couldn’t stop his gummy smile from breaking across his face. “Aish, noona,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Don’t make me say it.”

Your heart was throbbing, but you were having too much fun teasing Yoongi. He was never cuter than when he was embarrassed.

“What? Say what?” You played coy. Though you were fairly sure you knew what he meant, you wanted to hear the words from his mouth.

“Aish.” Yoongi groaned again, his annoyance over-exaggerated. “That I like you.” He huffed, actively avoiding your gaze.

You beamed at him until he finally peeked up at you, abashed. Then with a deep breath, he lifted his face, looking you in the eye.

“I like you, yeah?” Yoongi said again, all traces of embarrassment replaced by sincerity. “I can’t remember the last time I liked someone this way.”

Your heart soaring, you didn’t hesitate to respond.

“I like you, too. A lot. But I think you already knew that.”

It was Yoongi’s turn to smirk.

“Are you sure you’re not biased?” He asked, his back teeth flashing.

You chuckled appreciatively, and Yoongi’s smirk became an affectionate gaze, his eyes caressing your face before focusing on your mouth. His tongue ran across his bottom lip as he watched you, and when you noticed, your laughter faded. Swallowing in anticipation, you lifted your chin, offering yourself up to him.

Touching his free hand to your face, Yoongi gently bent your neck as he tilted his head in the opposite direction, leaning in close. Your eyelids fell shut instinctively, and you felt his warm breath dance across your lips in the brief moment before he kissed them.

You melted against him, what little space there was left between you disappearing as your mouths connected. His smooth lips felt even better than you remembered, and you pressed your own lips more firmly against his in an effort to fully commit the feeling to memory. As you drew in a breath, his familiar scent filled your head, overwhelming you in a way that was both comforting and exhilarating.

You might say you’d been looking forward to this moment since last night, but truthfully, the way the day played out, you’d doubted it would ever come. And the intrusive thought that you might have to endure a similar day tomorrow disrupted your enjoyment of the moment.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from Yoongi, your free hand resting on his chest. His eyes were slits, his lips still puckered as your thoughts spilled out.

“So as relieved as I am to know you feel the same way I do,” You rushed, “We have got to find a happy medium between ignoring each other and being totally obvious in front of the cameras. I mean, you cannot keep kissing me like this and expect me to just act like nothing happened.”

Yoongi smiled faintly, smoothing your hair back from your face.

“What if we pretend the producer never said anything, and go back to how we behaved before? No one ever said we have to avoid each other. I don’t see why you and I can’t spend time together while you’re spending time with the other members.”

You liked the sound of that, but you weren’t sure it was that easy.

“You’re not worried about the crew - or ARMY - noticing we’re… more than friends?”

Yoongi sighed heavily, then tugged your hand, moving towards the bed. You followed him until he sat down, dropping your hand as he scooted back to lean against the headboard.

“Come here.” He said, patting the spot next to him.

The sight of Min Yoongi lounging on your bed as though he owned it made you pause, but you obeyed him, crawling across the comforter to take a seat close by his side. When you were settled, he wove your fingers together again, holding your hand atop his thigh.

“We can be friendly on camera and still keep our private life private.” He gently assured you. “I know this experience may not have given you the best impression, but the film crew are actually very respectful of our privacy. I’ve worked with most of them for years. What they asked of you… They only had the best intentions for the sake of the show. I don’t believe any of them would truly try to keep us apart. Or expose us.”

You frowned contemplatively.

“Okay, so… we’ll just act natural?”

Yoongi nodded. But when your frown didn’t fade, he lifted his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Come here.” He sighed again, pulling you against him.

You fit into Yoongi’s side, your head resting on his chest, beneath his chin, and you could hear his heart beating beneath his ribs. Noticing the rhythm of his breath, you attempted to synch yours to his.

“I don’t want you to worry about it anymore tonight.” Yoongi told you, sliding his fingers through a lock of your hair, stretching it down your back. “I want us to enjoy this time together.”

“Okay, no more worries.” You agreed, relaxing as you savored the softness of his t-shirt beneath your cheek. Idly, you smoothed your fingers over the fabric, letting your hand come to rest on his tummy. He really was so comfortable. If you closed your eyes, you could probably fall asleep in an instant.

Yoongi’s fingers paused, tangled in your hair. You felt him inhale deeply.

“Your hair smells so good.” He murmured, pressing his face to the top of your head. His breath made your scalp tingle.

You sniffed, your face in Yoongi’s shirt.

“You kind of smell like garlic.”

You felt his stomach muscles contract, and knew without having to look up at him that he was holding back a laugh.

Sitting up to see his face alight with amusement, you couldn’t resist stealing a kiss. Yoongi smiled against your lips.

“You know,” He chuckled softly, “I knew I was going to like you before I even met you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“How…?”

“They showed us pictures of you, when we filmed the segment to tell you that you’d won the contest. And they told us a little bit about you.” Yoongi explained, his expression softening.

“Oh? So what was your first impression of me?” You prompted, lying back down and snuggling up to him again.

Yoongi resumed combing his fingers through your hair, his deep voice low and soothing.

“When I heard you did interior design, and saw how beautiful you are, I was intrigued.” He replied. “I was looking forward to meeting you.”

“Tell me all about it.” You said sleepily. Your eyelids were getting heavy, but you weren’t going to waste a moment on sleep. Not while you had Yoongi all to yourself. “Tell me about the night we first met. I want to hear your side of the story.”

Yoongi hummed, recalling the memory, and you felt the sound vibrating in his chest. When he spoke, his voice was softer still, almost as if he was deliberately trying to lull you to sleep.

“I was probably just as nervous as you were that night at the restaurant.” He admitted. “But you were so easy to talk to, so kind and genuine, you put us all at ease. And when you said I was your bias…” He trailed off, and you imagined a grin forming on his face. “I quickly realized after that night that I was attracted to you.”

You smiled to yourself, and your eyes slipped closed without your noticing. Yoongi’s hand finally fell still, resting on the small of your back, but he continued speaking.

“It scared me.” Yoongi confessed, his tone more sober. “I haven’t let anyone get close to me in a long time. And you know I don’t usually open up easily. But the fact that you’re a fan who already knows so much about me… makes it easier somehow. And as I’ve gotten to know you this past month, and spent time with you this week… My feelings have grown faster than I thought possible.”

You opened your eyes, worried you had strayed into a dream. Yoongi was rarely so honest about his emotions. You listened more intently, determined to not miss a word.

“I could fall for you, noona,” Yoongi breathed, his voice a whisper, “And that terrifies me. But I want to trust you.”

Your head was heavy with drowsiness, but you lifted it again to see the vulnerability plain on Yoongi’s face. His eyes widened slightly; he was obviously a little surprised that you were still awake.

“You can trust me.” You promised Yoongi, touching his round cheek.

His eyes fell shut, and he turned his face to press his lips to your palm.

“Then I can be brave. For you.”

Full to the brim, you leaned in towards him. He met you halfway, taking your mouth with his, and you let all of your emotions pour out as you sealed your promise with a kiss.

#bts #bts fanfiction #min yoongi #suganetwork #hyunglinenetwork #bts bon voyage #bts headcanons #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #bts fics #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts suga #bts imagines suga #bts fic #bon voyage season 4

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they-callme-ami · 4 years ago

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Double Dutch. (aka the drunk! Elijah, Aurora, black!MC and Tobias fic)

Note: This story uses lots of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) and is mostly intended for a black audience--you can still read for funsies or whatever, but I better not hear some shit about it not being inclusive or using 'improper grammar'.

Tags: @what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil @tyrils-star @melaninnntae @indescribablybre @prism-goddess

It started innocently enough: you were helping Aurora wrap her hair, pinning it up and tying the scarf around it. Elijah rolled into the living room in his pajamas. You three were the only ones at home since you three had worked later than Jackie, Bryce and Sienna and didn’t feel like going out that night. But y’all weren’t opposed to chillin and talkin’ shit.

It had been a long ass day. Ethan was getting on every damn nerve you had, either talking about his mom and their strained relationship or bugging you about your cases. The man just did not leave you alone, and normally it was cool--but today he needed to back the fuck up and stop talkin shit about Tobias. It was gettin old. Not only that, but you had your own intern to deal with--which is what you were going on about now.

“I’m telling you Elijah--I love Esme but that girl is too fuckin much! She always stay talkin back to the other attendings, nearly started a fight with another intern, and even when she asks for my advice she don’t listen! Thinkin she know everything….fuckin stubborn headass..” You sigh while twisting your hair.

“Uh-huh. Sounds like a familiar head-ass doctor I know. You were on trial last year, stoopid! I know your ass not talkin bout Esme. She’s a breeze compared to Sothy… he barely knows how to do anythin--it's a damn miracle he graduated y’know.”

“And who’s fault is that Elijah--oh, excuse me, Oracle.” Aurora smirked and laughed as Elijah could only sit there, ultimately taking the L.

As y’all were about to go in on each other, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh! Finally, must be the package I ordered. I hope y’all are ready to see me strut the halls in my new---” You open the door, only to see Tobias there in some sweats with some take out food and a paper bag.

“Not a package, but I’d love to see what you plan on struttin in.” He teased and smirked.

“SHIT---Uh---why are you here so late---” You had your bonnet on and a big ass t-shirt with some stains on it and some basketball shorts. It was the first time he'd seen you so casual.

"Easy there firecracker, I didn't expect you to look--what are the kids saying--'beat and snatched' 24/7." He pecked your lips and walked in.

“I invited him Y/N. Tobias, don't ever try and say that shit again and bring me my wings.” Aurora smiled and laughed, seeming to not be phased by her boss seeing her in a scarf and acne cream dotting her face. Was she just so tired from work she didn’t care? Who were you kidding, this girl was a complete trip after a long day and was just sayin ‘fuck it’.

“Elijah, I got Tobias to grab you some of that shrimp scampi from that place downtown, and Y/N--he got you your favorite cause I told him and you his new boo thing.” Aurora smirked with a wing in hand, and Elijah playfully gagged while Tobias handed out takeout containers and handed yours over. Yup, it was your favorite dish from your favorite place.

“Now--I was invited for 3 reasons: A.) I have a car so I could do the food run and get y’all spoiled asses some good food. B.) I live 5 blocks away from the liquor store so--” He held up a bottle from the bag he had--Hennessy, cause of course he’d get the most stereotypical dr--”And C.) I had to pull a double shift so I’m tired and nice enough to share some college Ramsey stories with y’all.”

So there you were, sipping on your glass and laughing as Tobias was explaining how Ethan thought that ‘double dutch’ was some kind of dessert or innuendo for a threesome with exchange students.

“Wait wait---no no you gotta be kiddin me. Fuckin 4.0 Med school GPA Ramsey--future head of Edenbrooks Diagnostics Team--thought double dutch was some kinda play on words? I have to laugh…” Elinah snorts. You couldn’t help but burst into whoops and hollars, laughing and even Aurora couldn’t hide the smile on her face after she almost choked on her drink.

“Uh-huh. Even after I told him what it was, he insisted that he had to see ‘it’. I took him to my old neighborhood, and watched four 9 year old girls school him while he nearly fell flat on his face!” Tobias laughed and smiled as he recalled the memory. “For someone so fuckin smart--I swear to god he’s a dumbass. Arrogant too, he never wanted to jump rope at the gym anymore.”

Something inside you flipped on. You took a sip of Henny and smirked.

“Well, I knew he had the fuckin long-ass neck of a giraffe, but clearly them legs ain’t doin him a favor either.” Tobias nearly spat his drink and crumbled on the floor into laughter, Elijah slamming his hand on the table and laughing with him. It was taking all of Aurora’s willpower to not laugh and act a fool. “I mean, I know he ain’t got any rhythm either! Mothafucka was clappin OFFBEAT during Donahue’s karaoke night, but I’m supposed to trust him to count how many heartbeats a patient has.” You joke again, and Elijah was holding his sides.

“Fuck---he---Y/N shut the hell up!” Tobias laughed and playfully pushed your shoulder. “Pass me the damn bottle….y’all lemme tell you somethin worse than that--his cooking. The man can’t stay on beat let alone beat a fuckin egg. Y/N--tell ‘em bout the chicken.”

“He---He invited me home after work or somethin--and he wanted me to help him with this recipe he saw for chicken. Y’all, it was the BLANDEST ass recipe I ever saw in my life. I was terrified to eat whatever the fuck he was makin, it was so bad his dad even helped out and said how it needed some proper seasoning. I had never seen an old man so disappointed in such an empty spice cabinet. I had to leave.” You snicker as you retell the story. “Even worse? He tried to bring me some leftovers afterwards and by god was that mothafucka dry as HELL---y’know what, lemme calm down cause I am not about to yell over some bland ass chicken.” You chugged down the Henny and grabbed the bottle to pour another glass.

“Y’know….for someone who seemed real eager to stuff a chicken, he cannot seem to tell he got a stick stuffed far up his ass. No wonder he walks around like an emotionally constipated man-baby.” Aurora said with a straight face as she chugged her own drink. You turned away, laughing and doing a spit take as Tobias slammed his fist on the table, snorting while Elijah simply was in awe at Aurora’s words.

“My first week there, I was assigned to Y/N and cause my auntie was makin me give her full on oral essays of every case I had, I missed out on one of ours and nearly let a patient die. Now---his ass knows this. He knows exactly who the fuck I am and who the fuck my aunt is. And what did he do? Chewed me out without a second thought. I was *this* close to curb stomping his ass I swear--He even called Y/N amature after saving someone’s life because it ‘was sloppy’ and ‘wasn’t professional enough’. And another thing--”

You watched Aurora stand up, Henny in her hand, and just goin off on Ethan. She was tearing into him, from him being able to get off the hook for punching Declan, verbally avicerating innocent interns, being all high and mighty--man, she hated his ass. Elijah was just eating his scampi, vibing and Tobias was smiling like a proud parent, eating his burger.

“He gon have the nerve--the audacity--the CAUCASITY to assume that I’M trippin because I told him about Landry being all rude and dismissive of one of his black-female patients. He nearly put ME on probation for helping deliver the baby properly when Landry prescribed her the wrong treatment for something cause neither of them will ever fuckin LISTEN and--” You could not have been any more impressed. You were just soaking it all in. She finally sat back down and ate some of her wings.

Tobias sighs and grins. “Damn. Elijah, you been real quiet...you wanna add your two cents?” he asks while Tobias took a big gulp and sat the glass back down. He took a deep breath.

“No, no….I just want his long-neck-headass, mommy-didn’t-love-me-so-I’m-a-lil-bitch-headass, grudge-holding-grown-ass-man-headass, lemme-insult-my-interns-headass, pompous, privileged, irritating, high and oh so fuckin’ mighty ass to humble himself and learn to get his head and the stick he got outta his ass. It ain’t cute to just bash everyone around you cause yo ass is feelin like Hamilton, ‘smartest in the room’ mofo.” He said, all very calmly while finishing his drink. You, Tobias and Aurora just exchanged a look….and broke out into a fit of laughs and smiling.

A few drinks later and a hella amount of roasts later, you were cuddled up with Tobias while Elijah laid out on Aurora's lap.

"Damn…..we really been up for hours now. Jackie and Sienna still out…" Elijah piped up and checked his phone. "They're at Bryce's place, having a 'girls night' with Keiki and sleepin over…..ooooo, Tobias should sleep over too!" He showed y'all a photo Sienna sent.

"Uh-huh, you should! We can watch movies and... oh Elijah your hair is sooooo soft." Aurora smiled and was playfully twisting it. Seems like the drinks were finally hitting. Tobias could tell too.

He managed to help Elijah back in his wheelchair and followed his directions to his room. He came back out to you helping Aurora to her room.

"Byyyye boss. See ya at work! If you do stay over, y'all better be quiet while he rearrange them guts!" She poked you laughing as you rolled your eyes and got her in bed. You walked back out, feeling tipsy yourself and plopped on the couch...with Tobias.

"Y'know….your friends definitely know how to go all in on a roast session. I found out shit about Ethan I didn't know till now."

"Mhmmmm….Henny is….is a miracle worker…" you slurred and laughed, laying up on him. "And yoooooouuu….are a fine-ass pillow."

Before you succumbed to the exhaustion and hennessy, you felt Tobias's lips peck your cheek gently and his arms hold you tight against him.

The next day at work, you were taking your break and went outside to the courtyard...much to your surprise you found a few children--presumabley patients-- playing double dutch with some jump rope.

"Apples, peaches, pears, and plums

Tell me when your birthday comes! 1! 2! 3! 4!"

They were counting along as you hopped inside the rope, showing off a bit and laughing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan walking towards the building.

"Hey, Ethan, wanna join? It may not be a dessert or two dutch girls--but it'll be fun!" You called out and teased while working the ropes. You could see his face turn red from where you were, and him muttering softly about Tobias. You couldn't help but laugh as you kept skipping and hopping away.

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erazonpo3 · 5 years ago

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Intro to my infodump on Alphecca but also I’m getting more and more shameless about it so I’ll probably dump a lot of other shit too later but back to the point: I never tend to stop mutating characters in my head but for all intents and purposes Alphecca is at a point where I’m satisfied with how fleshed out she is in my mind, so I figured I’d write it down.

SO basically a rundown:

Alphecca’s main purpose is to be the “Season 1” villain, in which her part in the story can be expanded but mostly wraps up in a self-contained plotline, and has relatively low stakes so that there’s room for the narrative to escalate. That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t pose a threat as an antagonist- because she absolutely does- but simply that her behaviour of terrorising people and raising bodies is already the status quo, and she has no grand design or plan of action. Cassandra steps in to change that status quo for the better, but her failing to do so won’t leave anyone any worse off than they already are. Yet with that being said, Alphecca is also built to be Cassandra’s antagonist specifically, so of course there has to be a resolution there.

Alphecca as Cassandra’s antagonist

Alphecca exists to be a foil to Cassandra, so that when you put them together their differences shine brighter. Where Ilione is a foil to Cass in that she’s largely her polar opposite: extraverted, very emotionally sensitive, inexperienced etc, Alphecca is a foil to Cass by being very similar to her but for a few glaring differences. It’s worth noting that while their personalities are pretty different, they share a same jaded perspective on life and struggles with mental health that stem from an ugly ZT origin story.

Both women were approached by Zhan Tiri during a time they felt powerless, and sided with her over loved ones in an attempt to regain control over their life. They were encouraged to embrace malice and sadism, had their faith in their loved ones undermined and had those insecurities stoked, and all this instability created the perfect storm for them to be easily manipulated and betrayed. Zhan Tiri operates as a cult leader does, seeking out vulnerable people and cutting them off from their remaining support networks until they have nowhere left to run, even if they want to.

It’s not to say Cassandra wasn’t making her own choices, but this kind of gaslighting shouldn’t be dismissed either. Some people will forever lack sympathy for her, but that’s exactly the point of Zhan Tiri’s manipulation- if nobody’s willing to help you out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself you’re going to be stuck there to rot, so you may as well keep digging in the hope that you might hit gold eventually.

Alphecca and Cassandra are both victims to Zhan Tiri’s super fun form of control, but the major difference between them was that Rapunzel remained willing to help Cassandra out of that hole. Alphecca didn’t have a Rapunzel, or a Varian, or a Eugene, and instead over time she became twisted and warped into a menace who doesn’t need Zhan Tiri’s encouragement to do terrible things anymore. And that’s what makes these two foils to each other; Alphecca is the monster Cassandra never was but could have easily become if she was never shown compassion.

Thus the only person who can stop Alphecca is someone who can empathise with her, at least to some degree. In fighting terms, Alphecca has a bottomless bag of tricks up her sleeve and the nature of her undeath makes her essentially immortal. She cannot be conquered, only slowed down, and the more pissed off she gets with you the more volatile and dangerous she becomes.

Cassandra initially sees Alphecca as a chance to prove herself, both as a force for good and as someone who can rid the world of Zhan Tiri’s legacy. However, it quickly becomes apparent that Alphecca cannot be defeated through conventional means, because otherwise warriors like Adira (who has encountered Alphecca before) would have been able to deal with the problem. Considering that Alphecca herself has sought out her phylactery to destroy it- with an extra thousand years of hunting up her sleeve- but failed to do so, makes it apparent that she can only be stopped by being reasoned with. But for a lich who hardly remembers the human experience, that’s pretty difficult.

It ultimately means the only person who can stop her is Cassandra, because the only person who can reason with her is someone who can empathise with her from a place of camaraderie rather than condescension, and recognises that the cycle of violence needs to be broken by compassion and not just violence but harder.

The Storyline

Basic plotline goes like this:

Early on into her journey Cassandra learns about the bone witch that roams the wilderness and terrorises innocent villagers, desecrates the dead, is probably a cryptid because legends have existed about her for generations, et cetera and so on. When evidence appears that this witch is real Cassandra and decides to investigate, because this is a pretty straightforward “good guy stops the bad guy” situation for her to jump into. (By this point Ilione is also tagging along).

Their first encounter with Alphecca is pretty tame. They intercept her at a mausoleum, she does a fancy music number/generally has a good time fucking around with them, but ultimately skulks back into the shadows at the end. It’s sort of all in good spirits and Alphecca isn’t ‘defeated’ by any means but still bows out as a show of good sportsmanship.

Their future encounters are a lot less nice.

The more Cassandra continues to pursue her, the more pissed off Alphecca gets, and when Alphecca gets pissed off she begins to embrace her sadism and her outbursts become more violent and cause more collateral damage. She lowers herself to underhanded tactics like throwing Cass into a nightmare reality a la Tromus and becomes increasingly sinister. The ‘tentpole’ of this plotline probably marks the shift from Alphecca as a trickster figure into a more dangerous one as Cass and Lio learn that she was also a disciple of Zhan Tiri.

The situation ultimately comes to a head by the finale, by which point Alphecca is very much unhinged and out for blood. She becomes fixated on Cassandra and does her best to hit below the belt, sniffing out her insecurities about her past with the moonstone and bludgeoning them with a metaphorical sledgehammer, and basically tries to goad her into a complete spiral.

This is the emotional climax, and the underpinning of Cassandra’s character development in becoming emotionally sound enough to shake it off. It’s at this point she understands what Alphecca is doing; Alphecca is caught in her own eternal maelstrom of emotional torture and latches onto anyone she can drag down with her for the small amount of pleasure it brings. She’s able to recognise those feelings because she can empathise with them and knows exactly what she needs to hear in that moment.

There’s probably some extended backstory revealed by this point too, going into a little more detail about the way in which Alphecca was caught in Zhan Tiri’s web down to becoming a lich, but of course what’s more important is the resolution.

With Cassandra getting through to her, Alphecca is able to pull herself together long enough to ease the situation back down again and have a more honest conversation about hope and humanity and compassion and all those good things. Cassandra admits that she can’t do much to ‘fix’ her, but starts by continuing Rapunzel’s legacy and showing forgiveness and compassion to someone who doesn’t think they deserve it. (Alphecca isn’t entirely regretful of all her actions, but does acknowledge that she ought not project her pain onto others anymore.)

Alphecca Post-S1

Alphecca doesn’t really get a ‘redemption arc’ because honestly I don’t want her to be redeemed. It’s not really a moral stance so much as I believe she’s genuinely disinterested in being a better person, she just has the selfish desire to be able to live happily again. And that’s kind of all she needs. She doesn’t care much about other people, but she’s working on herself and that means squashing the sadism.

I think it also continues to make a good parallel to Cass: Cassandra is trying to do better not only for herself but by others because she sees it as her own social responsibility, whereas Alphecca just wants to do better for herself and if other people benefit from that, that’s just a bonus.

Alphecca doesn’t join Cassandra on her travels either, although she does make appearances as a reoccurring character. Cassandra is upfront about the fact that while she wants to help Alphecca, she needs to help herself first, and the damage Al inflicted on her is slow to heal. They’re both in danger of dragging each other down in their own spirals so it’s best that they give each other space, but it’s also very important that they’re able to share their experiences. It’s a minor struggle between Cassandra and Ilione that Lio doesn’t really understand a lot of Cass’ struggles, although she does try to be sensitive about it. Alphecca provides that alternate perspective: Lio can provide support but little empathy, while Alphecca can provide empathy but little support.

I’ve also got more Alphecca stuff living in my brain regarding her origins, her own foray with Death and her association with lesser and greater deities, her relationships to other ZT cultists, et cetera et cetera but I’ll probably stop here to keep it succinct.

But basically over the course of this plotline Alphecca goes from wacky evil villain to really tragic but still evil villain to not really evil villain but still kind of a jerk neighbour that shows up at your house asking for your wifi password acquaintance.

#basically my build-a-bear guide to making an antagonist #it's fun #of course there's so much more to making characters and villains than just this but basically foils good #alphecca #cta au #my art #cassandra #female villains can have little a homoeroticism as a treat

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sailormoonandme · 4 years ago

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My theory on Usagi's Princess Serenity form+the Silver Crystal

In the anime it always intrigued me that Usagi adopted her Serenity attire in when she was essentially trying to pull off a miracle. Whilst I reserve the right to be corrected on this if there is some official canon to the contrary (it's been awhile since I watched the series), I've always taken this to be essentially another transformation Usagi adopts.

Essentially when the situation is truly, truly dire and she needs to access as much power from the Silver Crystal as possible she turns into Serenity.

If you want to get pseudo-scientific about it I figure the Silver Crystal is an object that essentially enables the user to warp reality to their will, provided they fuel it with enough 'emotional energy', the downside being that this can essentially drain your life force.*

This is why the act of sealing away Metalia and reincarnating everyone thousand of years into the future killed Queen Serenity even though she was a literal Goddess. Equally it is why Usagi could essentially have a wish granted at the end of season 1. In season 2 Wiseman was using essentially an evil counterpart to the Silver Crystal, hence it took 2 Silver Crystals to take him out.

Essentially the Silver Crystal's power when used to its fullest can generate the most positive results the user wants. And Usagi only draws upon the deeper depths of its power as Serenity.

So basically Princess Serenity is her actual most powerful form. Which then raises a few questions

a) Why does she even need her Super Sailor Moon or Eternal Sailor Moon forms for?

b) If she has this kind of power as Serenity why did she beat Pharaoh 90 as Super Sailor Moon

c) By extension I guess what is the big deal about the Holy Grail?

d) If we accept that Super Sailor Moon outclasses princess Serenity (as implied by season 3) why did Usagi use her Serenity form at the end of seasons 4-5?

The first question is relatively easily answered. Not only is her Serenity form a last resort but its also rather overkill for the regular monsters of the week and isn't necessarily optimised for combat. I guess we could argue the same of all her forms, but comparatively speaking she can move more freely as regular Sailor Moon than Serenity.

The answers to the other questions are rather interlinked.

First of all I'd argue that the Holy Grail is ultimately an artefact that simply boosts the user's powers to a massive degree. It's like an 'external battery' if you will. This is why it was bad news for any of the bad guys to get ahold of it but also why Usagi was able to become Super Sailor Moon without it. In SuperS she attains the form using Pegasus' power, so in essence his Golden Crystal is substituting for the Grail as Usagi's 'external battery'.

Super Sailor Moon was always a form she had the potential to reach on her own but the Grail was just a shortcut. Same thing with Eternal Sailor Moon, which is why initially she needed the combined power of the other Senshi to attain that form before being able to do it on her own. During season 3 and the first 6 episodes of season 5 we can clearly see that turning into Super Sailor Moon and Eternal Sailor Moon respectively taxes Usagi; she cannot maintain the forms. But over time she adjusts and they become second nature to her.

Second of all I put to you that the power Usagi wields in her Serenity form is essentially scaled to how naturally powerful she is at that particular time. This is alluded to at the end of season 1 when Beryl/Metalia references Usagi not having full control or mastery over the crystal and arguably why Usagi's 'princess training' was relevant. Essentially as Usagi grows as a person the power she has as Serenity grows in turn.

But in season 3 the Holy Grail, being an external power source, essentially meant her power was temporarily jumping way beyond what her Serenity form would've been naturally capable of at that time. Which is why it was more useful against Pharaoh 90 at the end of season 3. However, by season 4 Super Sailor Moon had become her default Senshi form, she'd in essence 'mastered' it meaning her Serenity form was therefore 'scaling' off of that.

This would then be why transforming from Super Sailor Moon into Serenity enabled her to catch up to the falling Chibi-Usa. Realistically the dress would make that more difficult due to wind resistance but like I said the Silver Crystal warps reality to the user's will, and Usagi willed herself to catch up with Chibi-Usa at that moment. By extension once Eternal Sailor Moon became her default form her Serenity form became way more powerful, making it the best bet against Galaxia who was obviously stronger than Pharaoh 90.

Finally, the idea of Usagi's Serenity form growing in power as Usagi grows as a person addresses why an older Usagi could essentially create paradise on Earth as Neo-Queen Serenity in the future.

tl:dr version: The Silver Crystal is a reality warping artefact fuelled by emotion+Usagi's Serenity form continuously grows more powerful in tandem with her.

*Which is why Usagi doesn't just always bust it out no matter the situation. It's a last, last, last resort. Plus if the bad guys get it it could be disastrous. In the hands of someone ure hearted like Usagi it's relatively benevolent but in the hands of an evil entity the world would be doomed.

#My Essays #Sailor Moon #usagi tsukino #tsukino usagi #Neo-Queen Serenity #princess serenity #pretty soldier sailor moon #pretty guardian sailor moon #bishojo senshi sailor moon #Silver Crystal #Legendary Silver Crystal #Chibi-Usa #Small Lady #Pharaoh 90 #Eternal Sailor Moon #Super Sailor Moon #Queen Serenity #Queen Metalia

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highviewsmoved · 5 years ago

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⁂ shigaraki tomura x reader. (old god shigaraki & female reader) ❝ gods cannot love mortals. ❞

Similar to the seasons, death changes.

There are whispers of an ancient deity that descends when it is someone's time to go. Who appears when men fall in war, in sickness or in their own beds rattling their last breath.

The name of his is unspoken, for he has wandered the earth for years, collecting souls, leaving death and destruction in his wake. An omen of some kind, similar to the caw of a crow. He will exist.

He will be there and he will wait.

Death himself comes for her in early autumn, when the trees are bare, the branches similar to skeletal fingers pushing up from the earth; the leaves stuck wet to the ground after a morning of rain.

She is cleaning, yukata rolled to her legs and sleeves tied in tasuki to keep from getting wet from the splash of water. It was simple, an easy mistake. She suddenly missteps when she goes back to refill the bamboo tub, falling in head first into the freezing stream.

The locals, the people in her village warned her the water is vicious for its current. The current had stolen a child not too long ago, the mother’s wailing echoes could still be heard throughout the mountain. Water fills her lungs, suffocating her, as her head knocks against a rock.

She is now at the mercy of the beast, and she hopes the river deity will spare her. When she resurfaces much later she has blacked out, unknowing what or who had saved her.

She remembers the abyss; white and red.

And the face of a man who crumbles.

Her mother tells her she lived because he had spared her.

“Who, mother?”

“Death,” she says simply. “He can be merciful.”

She listens carefully while the porridge cooks, the smell delicious. She grips the rag between her fists tightly, and she thinks she has seen the face of death. He is very similar to a human.

Curiosity gets the best of her. “Is he always alone?”

Mother is quiet for sometime, she’s not sure she may have heard her. Until she finally responds. “Yes, always.”

She sees death when he takes the soul of an old man in her village, the grieving of the family being heard as others come out of their huts to see the mourning, and she sees him.

Death is there, and he comes with the snow in winter, so unlike when he comes in spring or in summer. The frost creeps into her lungs, as she watches him, holding firewood close to her chest.

The old man by his side as Death looks at her, his spider lily eyes holding hers, as if enchanted; and she feels the tickle of snow on her cheek.

She does not cry, but her heart feels heavy. How many more people will he leave with?

Death stumbles upon her; she is kneeling, gazing up at the old chestnut tree, and when he hears her calling he comes. She has believed in him.

“Do you take away my people?” She asks him, her hands on her thighs, talking to this deity who has been known for so long. The tale whispers about him being the one who appears when death and destruction are at bay. In the middle of battlefields, always by a sea of corpses he steps through. She is not afraid of him, perhaps she should be.

The branches shiver, light splaying through.

He is there and he does not speak.

Her voice shakes, her fists tightening. The feeling of pain gripping her throat. “Where do you take the dead?”

Tomura responds, in a tone crisp like winter. “Home.”

His voice is the hiss of a snake, coiled deep around her throat; a warning. “This is a small mercy.” He had been there when the cliff near her almost swept her away, he had come just in time as she thought of him. He had heard her heart.

She cannot deny him, it is true that all the chances he has given her have been at best, luck. Or maybe it is him saving her. This she does not want to believe. He has saved her many times but has not spared her people. She should despise him.

Her voice is steel and iron, “you have given me many.”

He looks at her, taken aback as if she had slapped him. She exposes him like a wound, she realizes this much too late.

“The last time,” he reminds her, tone poisonous.

She has not seen him since the leaves have changed and at dawn he comes to her, underneath the large chestnuts. The wicker basket has fallen, she cannot bear to look.

“Who have you come for?” Her question is lost in the breeze, tears wet against her cheeks.

She is tired of fighting, of trying to fight off death himself (she has not fought him, she has welcomed him) who has come every time the season changes and for the people in her village. For the people she loves.

He has come anyway. Despite no one believing in him, praying to him; except for her and her mother. She hoped he would listen.

“Do not ask such things if you wish to not know the answer,” his tone is cold but his eyes burn against her back; skin prickling at the heat.

She exhales heavily, breath shuddering. She has cried for hours knowing her mother's time is soon. Deep in her heart she has known he will come anyway.

“Please,” she cries gently, then with much more pain, “please don’t take her away.”

Tomura cannot hold her to that. No more. It is time. “You know already.”

Her chin quivers, trying so hard to be strong. “Then answer me this, when will you take her?”

He thought it was obvious enough, but he will give her what she asks. Only this time; always this time.

“At dawn.” Then with much more promise, “I am coming for her at dawn.” If it is this morning or the next or the next. She does not know.

She remembers the first time she saw his face, covered in a mess of hair, bright and glowing like starlight. His eyes redder than the spider lilies that bloom across the meadows. They say the meaning behind those flowers is rebirth, to say goodbye. He is clad in all black, the fabric wrapping around him tattered from travel.

“What is your name?” Her knees are touching soft grass beneath her, dewy from the morning. Her heart pounds considerably louder when his footsteps have quieted.

“Tomura,” it is said like a breeze, so gentle that it carries.

She swallows, curious about his name, so she speaks it and the tree branches bend against the power it holds. Leaves fall changing to brown. The wind howls quietly, slipping by through her hair and face.

“Why have you come here, Tomura?” The wind swirls above.

He approaches, shadowed by the shade. “I come to know.”

“Know? Of what?” She turns her head in a peculiar way, eyes full of wonder. How odd for a deity to make themselves known to a human. So many times this god of death and destruction has done this. So many times he has hid in the shadows of mourning.

“Of things I seek and do not understand.”

Her heart trills like a songbird.

“Am I something you seek and do not understand?”

It is brave to ask such things, the temperature has dropped considerably and the birds have stopped singing. Everything has grown quiet, even the god near her.

“Yes,” and he is gone, she turns quickly to see and notices the patch of brown earth where he stood, the lush green that surrounded him, had paid the price.

She has prayed to Tomura, the god of death and destruction to protect her people, he has not forsaken them. He has saved them despite the bitter feeling of grief still anew. The loss of her mother, the old man, and so many more. All of it is painful. Living is painful.

Home, he had said. He takes them to a place where they can rest peacefully is what he promised, but she cannot help but wonder if he had created this, or if this was how life always is.

Death is a cycle.

She dreams of a large hand, of a wasteland surrounding her; she wanders the terrain filled with nothing, and she sees him. White hair and dark cloak billowing in a wind she cannot feel.

“Tomura?” She calls, and he does not turn, he stands there. When she reaches him he has slowly become dust, withering in the wind, sweeping past her.

She is suffocating from the particles as it wraps around her. She awakens, the fire put out in her home, smoke rising, the fabric of her bedding stuck to her sweaty body. She knows what her dream is about.

He will soon be gone.

“Will you die?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I fade away.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

She runs to him, closing the distance, her embrace is tight against him, he can feel her heartbeat. Her time ticking slowly away.

She will die of old age. He will die because he loved.

She breathes close; warm breath near his ear, and he sighs. He has dreamed of this. Tomura’s mind goes elsewhere during nights away. He has always dreamed of her.

Her soul he has spared, slowly collecting the surrounding ones. She knew this, yet here she is, with him.

He is feared and known. She is a human.

Gods cannot love mortals.

“Live for me,” she gasps against him. “Fight and live,” she begs, her body shaking with guilt. She has unknowingly brought his end.

“I cannot.”

“What can I give you in exchange? My soul?” He exhales, sounding close to a laugh, a smile cracking his lips.

“I will not allow that exchange.”

She pulls away, eyes filled with bitter tears, and she has never looked more brilliant than ever. She is alive.

He longs to touch her like he has often wished of doing.

So he does. Fingers, crumbling slowly; he touches her cheek, and she is so surprised to find it warm; soothing like the summer sun.

She leans into it, wishing she could have this moment forever.

“Your name—“ she stops, then touches his face, his hair, his lips. Caressing all of him.

“Tomura means to mourn,” he says, eyes glittering.

“I will mourn you, yes,” she promises, his arms wrap around her waist, hands moving towards her shoulder blades. How long has he lived without this? Centuries. Her lips brush close to his temples, “but I will love you always.”

Tomura leans in close, foreheads pressed together, lips breadths apart.

“And I you.”

She awakens in the forest holding nothing but black fabric.

When it is her time to go from this earth, she is old and weary. She had grandchildren, marrying a kind farmer who passed before her. In her seat she stares out where the chestnut trees stand tall, woven in branches.

The blossoms from nearby waft in the wind. It is her time to go, she grips the piece of black fabric she has held onto.

She closes her eyes, and she rests peacefully, her heart stuttering to a halt.

The way it is painless, as it wraps around her; darkness is not as the stories say; it is not unforgiving. The tunnel of light she moves through as she is back in the wasteland from a dream she had years ago.

Tomura stands tall, cape billowing in a windless desert. She gasps, tears streaming down her face as he is turned to her. Not like the dream of where he seemed so far, but now he is so close.

She goes to him, embracing him once more.

“Welcome back,” she says against his chest, he holds her tightly, no longer crumbling.

“I have been here and I have waited,” his voice is still rough like wood being scraped.

He wraps her close, his hands still warm like sunlight, hair bright and eyes similar to spider lilies.

“You are human?” She asks, pulling away to look at him, eyes searching his features, he still looks the same since the last time she saw him all those years ago.

“Deities are born from humans,” he states, “we are one and the same.”

Her tears are wiped gently with his thumb, fingers gliding across her neck and collarbone. This closeness he has missed.

She grabs his hand and presses her lips to each finger. Tomura no longer takes, he has given and given until her soul found his. They were born for this moment, she no longer hears the sorrowful noise of cicadas in the summer sun, silence has never felt more welcoming.

It is not harsh or lonesome, they have one another.

“I kept a part of you with me,” she confesses against his cheek, and his hands glide down her back, the feeling of her he has craved for years since he left.

He keeps her so close that they could become one. “And you can continue to do so, as long as you stay with me,” he murmurs.

Her breath fans his hair as she brushes her fingers through the locks. “Always and forever.” She is finally home with him.

The promise between god and human has been made, and they stay like this for eternity.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha imagines

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zrtranscripts · 4 years ago

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Season 9, Mission 13: Dig Your Own Hole

Green Route

[helicopter takes off and flies away]

SAM YAO: Well, that was incredibly cool! All my Airwolf fantasies come true. Besides, that chopper was a lot more comfortable than Skull-Kicker's little plane. Although can people have dropped us off at Red Scorpion Base instead of way out in the desert?

JANINE DE LUCA: They would have been shot down. Red Scorpion Base is protected by automated surface-to-air defense systems, highly sophisticated. It must contain something valuable indeed.

MARYAM ABANI: Hmm. Oh, a deadly secret.

JANINE DE LUCA: Red fungus run rampant, perhaps.

PETER LYNNE: Or one of Van Ark's little experiments.

JANINE DE LUCA: Whatever it is, Bakari's message said that getting it out of Red Scorpion Base would prevent countless deaths, and we must proceed on that basis. Now, we're approaching the checkpoint. I trust you have all prepared your cover identities. I am Steel Fist. Peter, you are Visage. And Five, Vampire Squid. Dr. Abani, your alias is Doctor Death. And Mr. Yao, yours is Sven "Psycho" Mountback. It is imperative that we remain in character at all times.

SAM YAO: Why are you looking at me?

[footsteps rustle through sand, a tap on a glass window, window opens]

GUARD: Papers.

SAM YAO: Here you go, officer.

GUARD: Put your feet in the prints. Looking at the cameras. Keep still.

[camera whirs]

SAM YAO: So how's your day going? Gets a bit boring out here, I'd imagine. Not much I Spy material, is there? Also, there's only one of you. [whispers] Ow! Why are you kicking me?

GUARD: Done. You guys are running pretty late. Gets a bit spicy this time of day. Still, you'll be all right, long as you stick to the green route.

SAM YAO: What's the green route?

GUARD: Brad, raise the gates.

BRAD: Copy that.

[gates raise]

GUARD: Okay, you can go. Do not deviate from the green route. Better run.

SAM YAO: Oh wow. Surprises me every time I see it, the color of the sand. Sort of burnt orange, like it soaked up the sunset. Not seeing much green, though. Where's this route?

PETER LYNNE: You know it's not literally green, Sam. It's green as in safe, I'd imagine. As opposed to, you know, red for painfully fatal. They must have sent the route to the real Death's Hand, and we'll just have to guess.

JANINE DE LUCA: According to Mr. Boujettif's sources, the principal threat en route to Red Scorpion Base is zombies. We have sight lines for miles in every direction, we should be fine. The principal threat when we reach the base would appear to be Mr. Yao.

SAM YAO: Me? Why?

MARYAM ABANI: Uh, your behavior at the checkpoint wasn't very... assassin-y.

SAM YAO: Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. You should have seen me at immigration. You know that bit where they used to look down at your passport and then up at you like 20 times? Just had to fill in that silence.

JANINE DE LUCA: But Sven Mountback would not. If he is famed for one thing other than prowess with illicit software and garrotting wires, it is taciturnity.

PETER LYNNE: Yes. We're sort of looking for um, gruff monosyllables rather than this whole sweaty, needy thing, charming though it is, obviously. But you've got it easy. I mean, Five's identity is Vampire Squid, and that's all anyone knows. I will say, I am highly impressed with your interpretation, Five.

MARYAM ABANI: [giggles] Yes. I wish I had your imagination. I had to base Doctor Death on the villain from a Nigerian children's television show.

SAM YAO: Ooh... oh, was that the one with the child detectives? Because Frances was talking about that the other day. Her grandmother used to put it on and -

JANINE DE LUCA: Don't get distracted. There are a number of bones in the sand, human bones. The desert may not be as empty as it appears. We must cross before darkness falls. Let's run.

MARYAM ABANI: I don't see any zombies. Maybe we found the green route?

JANINE DE LUCA: Perhaps, though the human remains are troubling. Hard to tell if they are old or recently picked clean by vultures.

PETER LYNNE: So uh, speaking of uh, bones to pick, we have some... reunions coming up. Van Ark, for instance. We've all got a few things we'd like to say to him. And um, Bakari might remind us of certain things, people. Raw nerves, maybe.

JANINE DE LUCA: Yes, Peter. Tom has been much on my mind.

PETER LYNNE: Oh. Uh, right.

JANINE DE LUCA: I've been allowing myself to dwell on... such matters, to work through them perhaps, as you have all encouraged me to do.

PETER LYNNE: Oh. And uh, are you... okay?

JANINE DE LUCA: It has been... a difficult time. Bakari... his betrayal was unforgivable, of course. But the thought of him... it has brought back memories. When Tom and I moved in with him, that wasn't an easy time, either. We'd just lost our parents, but we were together. That closeness... it has been years since I felt that. But... well, I feel it now. I feel it with you, P- on the horizon, to the east. What is that?

PETER LYNNE: Hmm? Oh. Uh, uh, well, I think that's a camel.

JANINE DE LUCA: Then there may be people. Perhaps they're following the green route. Runner Five, binoculars please. [bag rustles] The camel is laden with packs, but no one is leading it. What happened to... the camel would appear to have been sucked into the sand.

SAM YAO: Crap.

PETER LYNNE: Hooray, a monosyllable!

JANINE DE LUCA: I fear that was not a natural phenomenon. Quicksand does not claim its victims that fast. We must redouble our pace to reach Red Scorpion Base before it claims us. Run.

SAM YAO: These dunes are bigger than they looked, aren't they?

MARYAM ABANI: It's because they're featureless, no scale. During my training, I provided medical support to ultramarathon runners in the Namib Desert and they found it very difficult to pace themselves on the dunes.

SAM YAO: Yeah, what are these ridge things criss-crossing all over the sand? Looks like there's tubes underneath. Maybe they deliver water to Red Scorpion Base.

PETER LYNNE: Yeah, I reckon Sod's Law is that they're actually just something really, really horrible.

JANINE DE LUCA: Let us not conjure threats because we have seen something unusual. Perhaps we've simply witnessed a camel falling down a hole.

MARYAM ABANI: There was sucking, too. I-I definitely heard -

[zombie screams]

SAM YAO: Screamer, top of the dune! [gunshot] Nice shooting, Five.

[zombies scream]

MARYAM ABANI: Looks like the screams attracted more zombies.

JANINE DE LUCA: We may be able to use this to our advantage. I will position myself atop the large dune to the east. The screamers will be drawn towards you, and I will have a clear shot. Steel Fist's weapon is an M82 rifle. I will dispatch the zombies long before they reach you. Continue on your current heading. I'll rejoin you once the threat is eliminated. Run.

[zombies scream]

SAM YAO: Okay Janine, we're between two pretty steep dunes. Don't fancy scrabbling up those with zombies screaming at my heels. Oh God, look at that one. I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream. Also, my skull's gone and there's maggots in my brain. They're close enough to make out the maggots, Janine. You all set up to shoot them? Janine?

JANINE DE LUCA: I... I cannot remember how to assemble the rifle.

PETER LYNNE: Hey hey hey, that's-that's okay. Just-just relax, Janine. You let your hands just do their thing. It's muscle memory.

JANINE DE LUCA: The memory has gone, lost when the nanites rebooted me. I... I can't do it.

SAM YAO: Right. Well, we're gonna need a new plan, like now! Those zoms are getting really close -

VERONICA MCSHELL: Janine, it's Veronica. I will guide you. First, remove two pins from the lower half of the rifle. One is at the front of the body. Pull it out. Good. The second is located approximately four inches from the grip. Draw back the bolt, remove the pin, and replace the bolt. You're doing well.

PETER LYNNE: Ooh boy, they are close now. I can smell the rot. Um, no pressure. Running out of time a bit.

VERONICA MCSHELL: Remove the barrel from the case, locate the spring, and attach it to the bolt.

PETER LYNNE: They're coming from both sides.

VERONICA MCSHELL: Draw back the bolt, slide the barrel onto the body. Finally, replace the pins.

PETER LYNNE: Janine? Did you do it? Um, Janine?

[gunfire]

SAM YAO: Thanks, Veronica.

PETER LYNNE: Uh, Maryam, uh, the sand by your feet is, it's crumbling. I think that it might cave in. [MARYAM screams] Maryam! Maryam, are you all right down there?

MARYAM ABANI: Not really. I'm in some kind of tunnel. There's scratch marks on the walls, like they've been dug with hands. I think something's living down here.

JANINE DE LUCA: Runner Five, extract Dr. Abani from the tunnel immediately.

MARYAM ABANI: Thanks, Five.

JANINE DE LUCA: More screamers have our location, and I do not want to find out what lives in the tunnels. We must leave this unstable ground immediately. There are rocky outcrops to the northwest. Run.

PETER LYNNE: Uh, give me a hand up to that rock, would you, Five? Cheers. Are you all right, Janine?

JANINE DE LUCA: It is disconcerting to lose a memory. I'll be sure to discuss it with Dr. Myers. For now, we have more pressing concerns.

SAM YAO: Yeah. like that rumbling noise.

MARYAM ABANI: And whatever lives in those tunnels. The tunnels were person-sized, Janine, some bigger. And something made them. But what kind of person would dig a tunnel like that with their hands?

JANINE DE LUCA: Nothing lives in the tunnels. They and the rumbling sound are the result of tectonic activity.

PETER LYNNE: Um, Janine?

JANINE DE LUCA: We're on top of a fault line - what was that?

PETER LYNNE: Oh, that. Well, that was a bit of a camel. See, the desert just spat it out miles from where it got sucked down.

SAM YAO: Oh God, that's a hump. Something definitely does live in those tunnels. It hunts camels. Camels are big. Oh crap!

PETER LYNNE: Yeah, it doesn't just hunt them, it uh, also dismembers them, of course. It's um, ripped that camel to pieces and then chosen to lob it at us across half a desert. So in short, guys, I don't think this is the green route!

SAM YAO: Oh my God. Look, Five, new tunnels! Over there. Oh, and there. Oh bloody hell, everywhere! They're burrowing towards us!

JANINE DE LUCA: The tunnels form a web. We are at its center, and the predator can sense our movements like a spider does a fly. At the rate the tunnels are approaching, we will need to run as fast as we can if we're to reach Red Scorpion Base before they reach us. Go now, run!

JANINE DE LUCA: The tunneling has stopped. The ground feels firmer here by Red Scorpion's entrance. Metal must have been sunk beneath the ground to prevent the... borrowing entities from reaching the entrance. We have found the green route at last.

SAM YAO: Yeah, and the uh, entities aren't happy about it.

JANINE DE LUCA: Their presence complicates our exit strategy, but we have a more immediate problem: me. What happened with the rifle may happen inside the base. I may be unable to recall the details of my cover. I might put you all in danger. Perhaps I should return to New Agadir.

[alarm blares, gates raise]

MARYAM ABANI: Too late.

JANINE DE LUCA: We must compose ourselves. We've been running hard and the guards will look askance at our exhaustion. Mr. Yao, dab your forehead.

GUARD: Welcome to FOB Red Scorpion. You're late and sweaty.

SAM YAO: [deep gruff voice] Zoms.

GUARD: You must be Mountback. Heard you killed 10 men with nothing but dental floss. And I guess you're Vampire – [radio beeps] Sir? Roger that. General Bakari has some pressing matters to attend to. He will see you later.

JANINE DE LUCA: Fine. Please show us to our bunks.

GUARD: Of course. Follow me. The cells are this way.

PETER LYNNE: [whispers] Come on then, Five. Into the dragon's den we go, and there is absolutely nothing to worry about. Except for, you know, deadly red fungus, Van Ark, oh, and the fact that we're all lying through our teeth and could get caught at any time. Yay!

Thanks to @mrs-elijah-wood for help on this one!

#zombies run #zrs9 #zrs9m13 #dig your own hole #zr transcript #zrs9 spoilers

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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OPINION: How Umineko Changed My Entire Approach to Fictional Media

All screenshots captured on Playstation 3 by author

The following article contains a discussion of thematic elements and motives that appear during the second half of Umineko When They Cry. While no actual plot details will be revealed, some might still consider it spoilery. So if you want to experience one of the greatest pieces of fiction ever completely untainted, you should check it out on Steam right now.

The internet is pretty rad, isn't it? You can follow your favorite creators, watch tons of awesome shows, and talk about your favorite things with other people. How about we do that right now? Well, too bad, because YOUR FAVORITE THING IS BAD, ACTUALLY! You made the mistake of posting about it online, so prepare to be sent lots of negative comments linking to 5-hour video essays pointing out every single flaw about your favorite story and why you are wrong for enjoying it!

It's a situation I'm sure many of us have experienced at least a couple of times online. While the internet can be fantastic for finding like-minded people to chat with about things you deeply love, it can also be a gamble and sometimes you end up in a discussion where your conversational partner seems more interested in showing off their intellectual superiority over a work instead of openly discussing its merits or flaws. I certainly know — I used to be one of them.

"As I've eaten my way through countless tales to escape boredom, I haven't really been eating them. I've just been killing them." - Hachijo Tohya

The rise of social media has opened the gates for some incredible in-depth discussion and has changed the way I experience things over the years. But there is also a dark side to the discussions on the internet and that is the trap of wanting to feel intelligent in how you approach stories, which is often accompanied by not really being emotionally earnest. I myself tried to come off as perceptive by pointing out so many mistakes and bad things about media which led to exactly one thing: me becoming absolutely miserable. All I cared about was consuming as many things as possible (FOMO's also one of the many downsides of social media) and appearing as "smart" about them as I could. Until one fateful 10-month stretch in which I played a certain visual novel known as Umineko When They Cry.

Umineko really is tailor-made for catching people with that mindset: It depicts a mystery story about how mystery stories are told and consumed — and what genre would be more fitting to challenge someone concerned with intellectual superiority than one that is all about the clash of Author vs Reader?

"Books aren't a competition. It's not about who's read the most. But boasting that you've read all your ever need to read is just as wrong-headed" - Battler Ushiromiya

Umineko starts off with a well-known mystery trope: A family meets up in a mansion on a distant island, gets cut off by a storm, and then slowly gets murdered one after the other until everyone is dead. And just as in Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None (which served as one of Umineko's main inspirations), a bottle detailing the events of the incident to the public eventually washes ashore. But this only serves as Umineko's prologue, as its main character Battler quickly finds himself facing off against a self-proclaimed Golden Witch known as Beatrice on a meta-narrative level where he must prove these gruesome killings could have been committed by a human culprit, or be forced to acknowledge her existence and allow her to fully revive.

Thus begins a game of chess filled with exceedingly preposterous murders in which our protagonist's family gets killed by demons, giant goat butlers, and sharpshooting bunny girls — all supplemented by the so-called Red Truth, a truth-revealing tell not unlike Martha's vomiting in Knives Out. Battler must use these authorial proclamations and find a loophole that enables him to explain the murders in a way that does not frame any of his beloved family members as the killer and still allows him to deny the existence of the gruesome and torturous witch.

Umineko's all about how stories are perceived and told by both their creator and their audience. It explores how remarks by the author in every situation — no matter how off-hand they might be — can be used, applied, and twisted to shed a completely different light on a story regardless of its original intent. It shows how adding meaning to a narrative that wasn't meant to be there can both add to or subtract from its most important element: The heart its creator wanted to convey.

"If I had found meaning in only exposing the truth, I would have sunk to the level of a truth-revealing witch and fallen into ruin, spreading only hatred, [...], crushing and refusing to acknowledge anything but the particular truth I seek, unable to escape the cycle of misery." - Ange Ushiromiya

Umineko goes through many different angles of how we create, share, and discuss the tales that fuel our discourse. It ponders the importance of rules when creating storylines and tackles how easy it is to overlook major themes and motives by just focussing on minute details that are open to misinterpretation and irrelevant to a story's soul. It even includes the typical misanthropic yet oh so intelligent detective that usually gets idolized in most media (think BBC's Sherlock or House, M.D.) and puts them at odds with every other character because who would really want to cooperate with someone that completely disregards you as an equal human being and merely perceives you as an amalgation of hints, motives and alibis?

"Sheesh! Just one more step and I'd have been able to take a heart as innocent as the smooth sand just after a wave had pulled back and tear it to bits. What a shame. This isn't fun anymore." - Erika Furudo

And just when you start to really get into Umineko, it moves away from its main conflict, providing you important hints for its solution which most readers ignore as they aren't presented with facts and logic but on an emotional level distanced from the characters we long to get back to. But most importantly, it conveys how one single element is so indispensable to enjoying the narrative odysseys we embark on in our lives, to cherishing the characters that are presented to us in these tales, and to truly understand a story's message behind things like story developments, plot twists, and narrative tricks. I, of course, am talking about love.

Be it the love you feel for characters, for certain staging elements, phrasings of prose, orchestrations of music, design of sound effects, implementations of themes and motives, or cinematographic puzzle pieces — the one thing that is indispensable to truly enjoy all kinds of media, is love. Or, to quote Umineko directly, "Without love, it cannot be seen."

By the time, I was nearing the end of Umineko's eight main chapters, it had transformed from an intellectual battle between author and reader to an all-out war of a story against its community of readers who simply wanted to tear it down to cold, hard "facts." I had spent ten months and over 100 hours. The first half took eight of those months to get through (owing to a few lengths in Episodes 2 and 4), I finished the second half in less than two despite my busy schedule. I even dedicated a whole 15-hour marathon to the final episode as I was too glued to the grand finale to move away from it.

A new me came out the end. I no longer had an interest in tearing apart media for minor missteps. I enjoyed them much more deeply and honestly and began taking my time with the things I consumed. Instead of filling my plate at the buffet of stories as much as I could, I gave each dish its own course on the menu so I could appreciate its flavor in a different way — one bite at a time and not stuffed up simply to give the outward appearance of a seasoned gourmet. And for that, I will never be able to thank Ryukishi07 and his co-creators at 07thExpansion enough.

"The point of theory-making is not to create a culprit or to trample the truths that lie in the hearts of those who have not sinned. If you want to play detective, don't neglect the heart. Otherwise, we're just intellectual rapists. Don't forget it!!" - Willard H. Wright

If you are interested in reading Umineko When They Cry, you can find both its Question Arcs and its Answer Arcs on Steam, GOG, and MangaGamer. You can also read the manga adaptation digitally on Bookwalker (though I personally recommend the visual novel for its award-worthy soundtrack alone).

What work of fiction has touched your life in a profound way? Tell us in the comments!

René Kayser works for Crunchyroll as a PR and Social Media Manager in Germany. You can find him on Twitter @kayserlein where he tries to get people into Umineko every single day.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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whiskeyworen · 4 years ago

Photo

“...it sounds like blood. And something else. Dunno how to describe the other thing. But it gives me shivers.” She told Cyrus as plainly as she could. It was a little hard to focus, looking at this ‘costume’ of his. Novni didn’t know what a ‘costume’ was. Without another word, she went somewhere else. There was a wall in her way, but she fixed that. She made sure not to remove it, of course. They had all asked very nicely for her not to ‘erase’ walls. And to use doors. Oh. Whoops. She glanced back as the rift she walked through closed, the squealing, screaming blackness fading away to reveal the bulkhead behind her. Novni realized she’d forgotten to find a door and use it. She had just done the usual and did the thing and walked from one room to another. Oh well. She would remember for next time. She had made a promise to her friends she would try. Novni didn’t recognize the room, but it was full of different clothes and stuff. Some of it was ornate. Some was ragged. Was this a storage room or a closet? Is this where the ‘shipment’ for the ‘theater group’ was? Whatever both those things were? Her friends used so many strange terms. She just didn’t care for them. Without debating whether she should or not, she took a few items. She traded her top for a sleeker one, with sleeve-y things. In exchange, she left her old top. That’s how it worked, right? You traded things for other things? She was about to leave when she saw a hood on a hanger. It was....cute. Yes, that was the word. Cute. Had little kitty ears, like Cyrus’s pet. Or that big Verula person. With a wave of her hand, a spectral claw brought it from across the room to her. The color was wrong; too bright. Another wave of her hand changed the color; she pulled the bright out of it, leaving a nice, quiet purple. She liked purple. The room felt empty now, so she left it, stepping into a new rift in the floor and reappearing in the Grove below. For some reason, the Aspect was parked there, instead of Lion’s Arch -- where Cyrus had said he was going ‘to have fun’ or something like that. Novni wanted to go to Lion’s Arch. She had been told she wasn’t supposed to go out alone, for reasons the others never explained and that she never cared to ask. But.... Cyrus was in Lion’s Arch, so if she went there, she wouldn’t be ‘alone’, right? He’d be in the city, and she’d be in the city, so it’d be like he was right there with her... right? The logic made sense, at least to her. She knew where the portal to Lion’s Arch was, and headed for it, ignoring the stares of the other sylvari; Wardens recognizing her, while most of the others did double-takes, since they couldn’t sense her through the connection to the Dream. Novni had heard Moryggan refer to it as ‘feeling like a ghost just went by’ when referring to her, and that was oddly pleasant to her. She didn’t mind.

Lion’s Arch was big. Very big. But it was also very open. It wasn’t tightly packed like Skrittsburg. Or all curvy and plant-y like the Grove was. It was...neat. There were pumpkins everywhere. She was going to ask someone about it, when she saw a weird man carving faces into one. He’d noticed her, and grinning broadly, slid a tall, thin pumpkin across his little table towards her. “Go ahead, little one! Carve into their flesh! Make the fears and demons within appear within the gourd! I’ll even lend you my flensing knife!” “I have a knife.” She said, pulling her long, razor-edged blade off her side. With surgical precision, she carved. For long minutes, she carved, and carved, and carved. Rind and pumpkin flesh fell from her victim in swirls and paper-thin layers. Finally, she finished, and stepped back. “There. Is that good?” The man with the grin reached over and gave the pumpkin a spin, until the section she carved faced him. He looked at her work... and stared. The grin, that manic grin, began to slide off his face. He leaned closer, his eyes wide and bright, darting back and forth over the carving. Without looking, he reached out and plucked a lit candle from the small mass of lit candles on the edge of the table. In one move, he opened the top of the pumpkin with his knife and stuck the candle inside, and then stared at what she’d made. Both hands, shaking, carefully and reverently held the pumpkin. It was a good while before he turned his gaze over to her, looking upon this petite, eerie sylvari with a look that mingled absolute terror -- and gratified elation. “.....This is the most wonderous thing I have ever seen. May I have it?” Novni shrugged, more interested in the change that had come over him than in keeping the pumpkin. “When my Mad King shows up, I shall present it to him.” The man said, his voice shuddering with terror. “I cannot possibly describe this....etching... but my dear child, I think you understand Halloween deeper than anyone I have ever encountered...” She tipped her head to the side. “....I don’t know Halloween. What is it?” That left him dumbstruck. All he could do was point to the big, boiling green cauldron across the plaza, and watch as she left, her bare feet making almost no sound against the courtyard tiles.

“Halloween. What is it?” Novni asked the strange woman by the cauldron. She was the only one people seemed to be avoiding. Perhaps it was because of the fresh, dripping blood coating her mouth and chin? Or was it her black eyes? “Oh, how lovely! A first timer!” Acreni crooned, leaning down to examine the pale sylvari. She grinned, revealling a set of familiar fangs. “Are you perhaps interested in joining the Lunatic Court, little one? I don’t believe we’ve had a Sylvari join our kind yet!” She rubbed her chin, the blood seeping into her gloves. “...on the off chance, do you have an aversion to blood? Gore? Violence? How mentally stable are you, child? I won’t endorse anyone who claims to be Sane.” “I don’t care.” Novni replied with a mild shrug. “I think I’m sane, but can I actually say that and be sane?” Acreni’s smile came back. “Very true! To be sane, you must be judged sane by those around you! To be insane....is to be of the Court!” She laughed, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She leaned in, so close that Novni could smell the coppery scent on her breath and coming from her clothes. “Tell me... are you by chance alone? It’s not safe to be alone during my King’s season.” Novni’s nose crinkled at the smell of the blood. Not because it was blood. Just because it was so strong. Gross. “I’m not alone. I’m here with Cyrus. He’s... in the Labyrinth.” The Lunatic noble blinked her black eyes, straightening up. “Cyrus? As in ‘Cyrus; Tenna’s friend’? Lovely little Tenna? You’re one of her friends?” Novni nodded simply, her cat hoodie wobbling. Acreni’s expression shifted to something almost soft, and she gently turned the sylvari girl around, guiding her through the crowds. “Any friend of Tenna’s is a friend of the Court. It truly is not safe for novices, here, child. But let us go to the Labyrinth, and find your friends. We shall have ‘fun’ there, and between the three of us we will teach you of the wonders of Halloween, and the glory of the Mad King Thorn.” And with that, Novni’s first Halloween truly began.

#gw2 #gw2 screenshots #My characters #Novni Ffion #Lunatic Noble Acreni #Pumpkin carver guy #implied horrors #Halloween #Cyrus Sigismund #Tenna Danae #Mad King's Labyrinth #Lion's Arch

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shijiujun · 5 years ago

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[3/14/20] History2: Crossing the Line | Right or Wrong - White Day Extras

So it was White Day yesterday and Lin Peiyu, the screenwriter for CTL and Right or Wrong, released some scenes she wrote in the past for both on her Facebook page. I translated it quickly (even though I’m not really in the CTL fandom BUT!!!) so enjoy guys!!!

Her message: “I suddenly realised it was White Day today, so here’s a small little gift~ This is a small little epilogue I wrote a long, long time ago.”

Read below for more goodness on Yu Hao/Zi Xuan, Yi Jie/Sheng Zhe, and even Zhen Wen/Zhen Wu *screams*

---

A season of blooming phoenix flowers - To the boys in their youthful days

It’s the peak of summer in June when phoenix flowers bloom, and the bright rays of sun light are as vibrant as the flowers, heating up the air. This cannot, however, hide the passion of those attending the graduation ceremony.

On this day, some people are here but have other motives in mind, and to be frank, these people are here simply to create trouble. One such person is Shi Yi Jie, who has grown into a middle-aged, jealous man.

“I already told you that it was my junior’s graduation ceremony…”

“I know, he just wanted to thank you for taking care of him during your school years.”

“I did spend a bit more effort on him…”

“Xiao Fei xuezhang!*” He Cheng En’s voice interrupts their conversation.

The both of them look towards the person speaking just in time to see a man with a buzz cut and a sunny disposition running towards them, an expression of warmth on his face.

Shi Yi Jie appraises the other subtly with a few looks, then secretly clenches his fist in victory. He wins! As to what he won… that’s something that probably only he knows.

This is the first time in a long while the two are meeting, and the first thing that Fei Sheng Zhe says when he sees He Cheng En is: “Why is your second button missing?”

“Of course I have to reserve such an important thing and make a booking** for my girlfriend,” He Cheng En says, smug.

“Booking? Why’s that?”

“Xuezhang~ If you’re this unromantic, how are you going to live the rest of your life?”

This young man has a bright future ahead of him, Shi Yi Jie thinks. He looks at his young lover and says, “Did you hear that?”

Fei Sheng Zhe rolls his eyes at him.

He Cheng En doesn’t see their interaction and little moves, and instead points at the spot where his second button should be, that is now empty and left only with some thread.

“The second button has to be given to someone you like!”

“Why is it the second button?” Shi Yi Jie asks, curious.

Unlike Fei Sheng Zhe who just can’t be bothered with traditions like this, Shi Yi Jie is an old man who simply doesn’t understand the teeming world of the youth and the small little romantic gestures that come in these budding relationships.

“It’s nearest to the heart, what did you think it was for?”

“I see…”

Shi Yi Jie, with a stoic expression, looks idly towards Fei Sheng Zhe who’s standing next to him, and zooms in on the buttons on his light blue shirt without saying another word.

===

Outside the assembly hall, Xia Yu Hao jogs over, his eyes scanning through the mass of people leaving the hall as he looks for the person he loves.

“Qiu Zi Xuan!” Xia Yu Hao finds his target and speeds towards Qiu Zi Xuan, who has his back faced towards him, “Give me your second button…”

At the last three words, he turns Qiu Zi Xuan over, and the moment they’re facing each other, Xia Yu Hao shouts and accuses, “Where’s the button!”

He glares at a uniform-clad Qiu Zi Xuan in disbelief, because on his white shirt, there’s not even a single button left!

Qiu Zi Xuan’s handsome face flushes pink, as if someone has done something to him***.

“You… your shirt…”

Before Qiu Zi Xuan can even say anything, the girls and boys surrounding them help him to answer.

“I’ll treasure your button, I love you~”

“Thank you for your lucky button~”

“Xuezhang, I’ll take your button and bring it to the finals! Wait for me!”

Xia Yu Hao glares at the bunch of robbers running off with their prizes, and inside he hears voices mocking him, continuously spitting at him.

Fuck- Xia Yu Hao is pissed, jealousy burning through his mind when he usually doesn’t have much rationality left, and he moves to go after what belongs to him.

“Don’t cause any trouble,” Qiu Zi Xuan finally speaks, and these simple four words are just like tight reins, keeping his junior rooted to the spot.

“They snatched away what belongs to me!”

Qiu Zi Xuan frowns, “Those belong to me.”

“They stole your things!” Xia Yu Hao obediently corrects.

“Those are just buttons.”

“Those are your graduation buttons!”

Xia Yu Hao angrily bites are his lips, he knows that Qiu Zi Xuan doesn’t have any penchant for romantic gestures, but he does! The second graduation button should be left for the person you like! He’s pissed!

Qiu Zi Xuan considers Xia Yu Hao’s furious expression, sighs, then caresses at his junior’s hair (which is a little hard), and in the end, he cannot bear to tease him for too long. “Here.”

As he says that, he pulls Xia Yu Hao’s hand to him, “The second one.”

A small white button is placed into Xia Yu Hao’s palm that is flushed red from anger.

Xia Yu Hao freezes, staring at the button in his palm incredulously, then looks at Qiu Zi Xuan.

Qiu Zi Xuan pushes at his glasses, a little uncomfortable with all the staring, and lies, “My sister wanted me to take it down first.”

“You…. sister complex!”

Qiu Zi Xuan frowns, “Is that a problem, you mommy’s boy!”

The both of them glare at each other and can’t hep but recall that day in the infirmary. There was a time long ago when they would insult each other like this, and then they walked into each other’s worlds, and after… they crossed that invisible line between them.

The wind gently rustles the leaves of the phoenix flower tree. The both of them smile, as if they are the only ones left in the whole world.

===

Somewhere not far away from the hall, Wang Zhen Wen looks at the crowd milling about and changes his mind on joining in the fun and cheer.

Turning around, he says to Wang Zhen Wu, “We should go back to the club and wait for them.”

“Hnn,” Wang Zhen Wu nods in reply.

“Today the xuezhangs are graduating, later during the celebration remember that you have to say something.”

“Say what?” Wang Zhen Wu questions, confused.

“Just things like… they’ve got a bright future ahead of them, that they’ve got limitless possibilities in their futures, that kind of thing.”

“Then… congratulations on graduating?”

“…. that works too,” Wang Zhen Wen suddenly thinks of something, and looks at him, serious. “You should really practice saying more. You’re so awkward like this, not talking much… Dad is very concerned.”

He brings his hand up to his face, and dramatically tries to wipe at his tearless eyes. However, Wang Zhen Wu catches his hand and says, “You’re my younger brother, not my dad!”

“… I was just joking.”

The brothers descend into awkward silence at their lack of chemistry.

Wang Zhen Wu caresses gently at the hand gripped in his palm and says, “Not funny.”

Wang Zhen Wen shivers slightly at the feeling of being soothed, and says, “Ge…”****

The moment is interrupted by some female students giggling as they walk past them, “You got his second button?”

“Hnn…”

“He must like you then, otherwise why would he give it to you?”

“Do you think so too?”

“Yeah, the second button has to be given to the person you like…”

Their laughter fades as they leave, but their conversation piques Wang Zhen Wen’s interest and his eyes follow the two girls as they move away. Suddenly, his jaw throbs in pain as Wang Zhen Wu turns his face back to look at him.

“What?” He looks at Wang Zhen Wu in confusion, and in the next moment, his eyes widen in shock, “You… What are you doing?”

Wang Zhen Wu is picking Wang Zhen Wen’s shirt buttons off like he would grapes.

Wang Zhen Wen quickly presses at his hand, “We’ve still got another year to graduation!”

Isn’t he too impatient? Wang Zhen Wu then locks both of Wang Zhen Wen’s hands behind him, and with his free hand, he continues to pluck off Wang Zhen Wen’s shirt buttons.

“First come first serve,” Wang Zhen Wu says evenly with determination, his hand movements not stopping.

“The second button is enough-“

He’s interrupted again as Wang Zhen Wu takes off all his buttons, and looks at Wang Zhen Wen, “Mine. They’re all mine.”

Wang Zheng Wen looks at him in astonishment, and a moment later, the ends of his lips curve, and he ends up laughing loudly. Wang Zhen Wu frowns, not understanding why his younger brother is laughing. He’s very frustrated, very angry now, can’t his brother tell?

===

Fei Sheng Zhe serves the last dish and shouts in the direction of the living room and bedroom, “You You, Shi Yi Jie, it’s time for dinner~”

“I’m here!” You You jumps onto the her chair happily, and when she doesn’t see Shi Yi Jie, she shouts towards the bedroom, “Daddy! It’s time for dinner!”

“You guys eat first,” comes Shi Yi Jie’s muffled reply from the room.

Fei Sheng Zhe doesn’t understand why this man has been stuck in the bedroom looking for something ever since they both returned from his junior’s graduation ceremony. Unable to resist, Fei Sheng Zhe reminds You You not to be fussy about her food, then walks into the room, only to see Shi Yi Jie messing up the closet.

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing, you eat first.”

“I can help you…”

Before he can finish his sentence, Fei Sheng Zhe is interrupted by a kiss.

“You go eat first, be good,” Shi Yi Jie lightly caresses at his sensitive ears, “Unless… you want to eat me first?”

“… I’m going to eat dinner.”

Fei Sheng Zhe is a bit more experienced now, but he still cannot compare to a seasoned flirter like Shi Yi Jie, and so he decides to follow what he saw in the Battle of Dunkirk, and retreats.

Shi Yi Jie heaves a sigh of relief, and now that he’s dealt with his lover, he suddenly thinks of something. He closes the door and takes his phone out, making a call.

“Juan-jie, did you happen to keep Sheng Zhe’s high school uniform?”

“Not only high school, but elementary, middle schools and even kindergarten uniforms I still have, they’re all memories…” Juan-jie’s voice is gentle and warm as she reminisces on how cute her son was when he was younger, then she squints, and asks with suspicion, “Why’re you asking this?”

“Nothing… this weekend we’ll go over, You You misses you,” Shi Yi Jie says, his expression like that of a predator seeing his prey, revealing the edge of someone who’s determined to get what he wants.

---

Notes:

*xuezhang - senior **booking - she used the word her in english, and it’s kind of like a chinese/english way of saying ‘reserve’ ***this is literally translated, i myself have no idea what she means by someone did something to him but i suppose it’s in idk a flirty way ****ge - older brother

#history 2: ctl #history2: right or wrong #crossing the line #right or wrong #history2 #translation #xia yu hao #qiu zi xuan #fei sheng zhe #shi yi jie #wang zhen wu #wang zhen wen #white day extras!#ooooh this was quite cute

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