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vidalsbeloved · 7 months ago

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fly little bird, fly

Warnings: Reader gets injured, (that’s all I can think of lol)

Rio Vidal x Female reader

Words written: 2.2k

Chapter 1 : The Bird Flew Astray

1680

Darting through the woods away from Witch Hunters was the last thing you thought you’d be doing on a day like this, but alas you had to settle for it. You didn’t mean for this to happen, but someone from the village had caught you shapeshifting and reported it.

You had managed to escape your home through the window in your bedroom— but that didn’t last long, being as one of the townspeople had been walking around the outback. It was right there that you bolted, your navy dress rippling in the wind behind you.

You mutated yourself into a deer, your hooves thudding against the earth as you drove deeper and faster. It was an integral choice, better to help you drive further away than to draw back. Gunshots wrung the air around you, your heart pounding in your ears.

Of course, they knew it was you, the only deer out this time and day. There was no going back now, you couldn’t relive the moment, so you drove onward. Hoping that god or satin save your soul. Another gunshot wrung out, this time accompanied by arrows that flung past and overhead— and then, just as you focused your attention back on the path you were taking, a cobblestone wall, could be made out. You took your chance at the last second and before you could do so much as run into it, you shape-shifted into a bird— more specifically, the only bird you could think of at the moment. A swan. And flew upwards, into the sky, your wings working hard and overtime.

You could already feel the drastic change the shifting was taking on your body, the strain in your muscles. The way your wings began to quiver, but you pushed on. Flying higher and higher into the sky, over trees and land.

But still, the hunters pursued you— because you were a witch and they wanted you dead. You had known of the hunters close by, but you had never feared them, not until now. You could hear them from below, shooting up into the sky, calling out ‘Come back here, you devil.’ But you ignored them.

You knew you were a mistake— a mismatch in the very existence. You were never meant to be on earth or anywhere really, but here you were. It had taken you years to understand that, but no less did it ache your heart. Nobody wanted you, because you were everything that wasn’t human and everything that wasn’t human, didn’t want you.

You were not supposed to be here, walking the earth like it owed you when all you did was disguise yourself into something you weren’t. But that’s all you knew, you weren’t made, you were forged. You were a child of the devil, and someone had raised you from the fiery pit of hell.

You swiveled around arrows, dodging bullets and trying everything in your power to survive. One strike and that’s all it took to send you right back to your home away from home, one piercing bullet that would kill you in an instant. You may have been a shapeshifter, but that did not make you immortal. You would die one day just like everyone else, it just may take a little longer than most average human life. Being a shapeshifter meant you outlived your offspring, like you did. You had a sister once, but she had gotten herself killed. She was a witch, not you, but different. The hunters burned her at the stake. You weren’t close to her, so seeing her die didn’t have much of an effect on you.

Though you later mourned her, that was because you realized how utterly alone in the world you were. You got used to the feeling, but still every once in a while you felt an ache. A yearning to be seen, to be wanted. To feel an embrace so warm and welcoming— to understand that being different was okay and not wrong.

A sudden movement from below shooting up at you and piercing your skin grasps your attention. Being all caught up in your head had caused exactly what you feared, and now you were paying the price. Your wings twinged and then you were falling, panic gripped you suddenly and you desperately tried to get a grip and stop yourself from hitting the ground, but your wings wouldn’t budge, the pain shooting a hot shard of white pain down your back.

You heard the sound of cheering a distance away from the hunters and you were met with the sight of trees. The air shifting around you, suddenly to cool and dank. When your body collided with the ground, the pain only seemed to grow and suddenly you heard a tree branch snap and the sound of footprints. You tried to move, but your body hurt all over. You tried again, getting ahold of yourself, still in bird form, and managed to flip up onto your palmates, gripping the ground from falling over and looking around you for a hiding place. A sigh of relief washed over you when your eyes made contact with an underbrush— you bolted for it and tangled yourself with the plants surrounding it— taking advantage of your size to better hide yourself.

The hunters walked down the path and stopped, looking around for you. When they didn’t see any sight of you, they continued walking along. You stayed where you were for a few minutes longer, scared that if you made any noise, they would come back.

You slowly came out but stayed close enough to the underbrush in case the hunters came back. You don’t know how long you stayed there for when you heard a door opening in the distance, you looked up, and a green hooded figure came into view. You scrambled back into the underbrush, but not before her voice boomed out.

“Who’s there?”

Before you could so much as move to hide, the woman rounds a tree and locks eyes with your swan. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the mysterious green-clothed woman. She asses you, then cocks her head to one side, squinting, and looks to your injured wing.

“I know you’re not a sawn,” she says. “So you can turn back.”

You hesitate— how did she know? She rolls her eyes at you. Then adds, “There not going to see you, there’s a rune around this house that makes you invisible to the human eye.”

You ever so slowly allow yourself to come back to your human form and when you do, you realize that you are naked. You go to cover yourself with your arms, only to remember one of your arms is injured. You look down at your injured arm, you have an arrow between your ulna and radius. You feel sick looking at the sight and swallow, looking away and back to the woman.

She’s looking at you with peculiar interest as if she’s trying to figure you out. You look away again, shivering, your dark messy hair coming out of its bun and spilling over your shoulders.

She breaks the silence with an aggravated huff, “Are you mute?”

You shake your head and whisper, “I….” but nothing comes out.

“You’re an interesting, little thing, aren’t you?” she says quietly, then comes closer.

You tense as she nears. She must sense your uneasiness because she’s whispering next, “I won’t hurt you, I just want to see.”

She looks you in the eyes as she squats down in front of you and asks softly again, “Can I?”

She motions her head to your injured arm, you nod and release a shaky breath when her hands gently come to yours, lifting it to inspect the damage, you whimper in pain.

“You took quite the fall back there baby, I’m honestly surprised you’re still alive,” she says, looking back up to your face.

A hand comes up to brush away the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of your bun, her eyes tracing every curve she can find on your face.

“How did this happen?” she asks.

You swallow and stutter, “S— Someone from my village caught me changing form.”

The woman scowls gently, “You’ve got to be careful, sweetheart. These people could kill you.”

“You think?” You snap, then look away, ashamed of your outburst.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Her lips twitch up into a sly grin, “No need. You’ve been through a lot today, how about I take care of your little…” she ponders on her words. “misfortunate run in.”

Your lips quirk up at that— you nod and she pulls back just enough to remove her cape from her body and pull around your shivering form. When her skin makes contact with yours though, a jolt of energy runs down your back, gripping at the very essence of your life. You lock eyes with her and for a second you see her eyes flicker with something that you don’t understand until she moves to help you stand.

You get up onto your feet and wince as the blood rushes down into your toes, every fiber of your being aching from driving yourself too hard. She grips your shoulder tightly, steadying you as you move to take the first step— you feel yourself falling before your brain manages to catch up, but luckily for you, the woman catches you before you can hit the ground.

“Careful,”

You take in a shaking breath, nodding your head, and move to walk again. This time though one of her hands is holding your waist.

She leads you slowly to her little cobblestone house and opens the door— and you are grateful for the heat that clashes with your shivering cold form. You take in your surroundings as she moves to shut the door after getting you inside.

The space is small, the ceiling overhead, whirling with moss, that seems to grow with the exterior of the cobblestone. You bring your head down to look around your surroundings, between the space of her kitchen is a rocking chair by the fire and a bed settling up against the wall in the corner closest to a fireplace.

She leads you to the bed, settling you down before heading for the kitchen. She grabs a basin filled with water and a rag, turns back to you, and walks the distance to you. She settles down and moves to dig the rag into the water.

She looks back up to you and reaches for your arm. You flinch when the cool water touches your skin, but her grip seems to tighten.

“You’re a rare kind of witch, you know?” she says. “I’ve never seen or met a shapeshifter before.”

You swallow, “There aren’t any others out there.”

She locks eyes with yours, “What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one.”

She snorts. “Everyone’s got a story.”

You hesitate and look away. “There’s nothing much about me.”

Sympathy flashes in the woman’s eyes before she diverts her attention to the wound. “Can I at least get a name?”

“It’s Y\N,”

“Hmmmmm…. makes sense for such a pretty girl.” she winks at you.

You blush and look down at your lap, “What’s yours?”

“I’m Rio,” she says.

“Thank you, Rio,” you say softly. “For helping me. Rarely, I’m ever given such attention.”

For a moment, she pauses her work on your arm and looks back up at you. Her eyes squinted, studying you, but there was also a familiarity within them— an understanding. You feel suddenly drawn to her. You think that it’s because you’ve been alone for so long that now, potentially, you could just be desperate. But you then realize it’s something deeper, something so warm and fuzzy, you wish to know what the feeling is, you try to pinpoint it on every map in your head, only to come back empty.

It’s gone just as fast as it appeared, she looks back down to your arm and shifts it to get a better angle, propping it up with some pillows.

“I have an idea, do you trust me?” she asked.

You squinted, but replied wearily, “Yes.”

She smiled softly and lifted her hands. In a circular motion over the arrow, you see it begin to glow a dark green. Though it was still in your skin, you could almost feel as if it was shifting, but oddly enough, it wasn’t hurting.

“It’s a healing spell,” Rio says before you can ask. “Most witches use them with injuries. It mends skin and fights infection. In your case, it’s dissolving the metal.”

Your eyes widen and you look back up at her, “How is that even possible?”

She smirks at you and replies wittily, “Magic, baby.”

When you look back down, the arrow is gone. You turned your arm over and back in pure shock. You glance back up to Rio and she watches you with curiosity.

“You haven’t practiced much magic, haven’t you?”

You sigh. “I’ve had nobody to teach me, I’ve only ever had myself.”

“I can teach you.”

Your eyes widen, “Ooh no, you don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

You clamp your mouth shut.

“—But,” Rio started up, “it’ll cost you.”

You furrow your brows and ask, “What?”

“I’ll need something from you, something only you can give me.”

You swallow, your breath catching in your throat. “What do I give?”

“Yourself.”

“What?”

“Be mine.”

You contemplated her offer— you had been alone for years, and now here came Rio asking you to be hers. But at what cost? And why? You suppose it didn’t matter, after all, you were desperate.

She wanted you.

“I give myself to you, Rio.”

She smiles slightly, “Please, call me, Lady Death.”

#agatha all along #rio vidal x reader #claim me rio #rio vidal

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voidcat · 10 months ago

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comparing hand-sizes to hold their hand against the other's and then just holding hands + Laios 😭😭😭💞💞💞💞

I can never write Laios like you king but hope you like this Oxy ilyy<33🫶🫶

wc: 703 ; gn!reader

“Hey, so…” a voice interrupts the silence. “What if all those physical differences we displayed weren’t just an effect of changeling spores, more like revealed by them?” Laios asks, looking at his hand deep in thought.

Few groans and hums raise in their air, Chilchuck for one isn’t happy in the slightest for having his sleep interrupted. At least Marcille seems a little interested, or maybe just trying to end the conversation before Laios’ mind can spiral to depths no one wishes to know about.

“You mean the body shaping accordingly to your life style?”

“Yes! But not exactly.” some faces drop as his voice raises a tone higher, whatever remnants of exhaustion wiped off his body. “What if the occupations we would take and the lives we would live were already predetermined by the bodies we were going to inhabit?”

He sounds excited, the heart in the right place but probably not explaining what’s on his mind as he wished.

“You mean like ‘nature vs nurture’?” your voice rings in the air and immediately you can see Marcille’s face dropping. Probably an option she thought of as well, but chose not to voice for the moment.

Meanwhile Laios, more than happy to have someone else join in on his brainstorming, rushes to your side like a giddy puppy, hands up, palms facing you.

“Like Senshi–” “Hmm, he looked quite slender and fragile, even for elven standards when he was an elf himself…” “And and–”he counts every small detail he has noticed and saved into his memory without taking a breath. Happy and in his element, he looks fascinating.

“Despite all that, I’ve noticed hand sizes to not have gone through a drastic change.”

“Oh, really?” you ask, now a little curious. Has he really paid individual attention to each and everyone’s hands? “Yes! I even compared them with mine for good measure.” he says matter-of-factly, earning a snort from you.

“Well, then in this case,” you draw in, “your research is flawed I’m afraid.” Unfazed by your close proximity, he only looks confused at your claim. The ‘how so’ waits on his tongue but you beat him to it.

“I don’t think you ever compared with mine.” he seems relieved, as if letting out the breath he was holding. Taking your words as an invitation, Laios grabs your hands and brings them up, facing his palms against yours.

First thing he notes is how close they are to his in size. Sure, for a tall-man, he is not exactly the tallest but he was told he has big hands. Your fingertips passing his distal interphalangeals barely, his brows furrow without noticing. At his reaction, you stick your tongue out at him victoriously. Unfazed by your reaction he continues to inspect. Staring at your hands against his with fascination, he moves each finger, grazing against your skin as if to test some sort of parameter only he knows of.

What feels like forever passes.the two of you, enthralled in your own bubble now, everyone else busy with something, their attentions diverted.

Laios realizes then, that he has been staring for a while. With this first moment kicks back in his senses; the world suddenly isn’t drowned out, everything but you isn’t covered by a dark curtain– and how painfully warm, and so nice to the touch your hands are.

As if sensing him snapping back into reality, you let your fingers slide across the gaps between his, clasping his hands in a demeanor that mimicked his observant self a while ago.

“See?” you break the silence for the two of you. “Told ya you were missing out on data.” you say with a grin. Finding himself at ease with you, he brings his right hand to scratch his head reluctantly.

He couldn’t possibly be blushing now, could he?

Laios tries to return the smile and still feels his shyness taking over. A breath let out and he allows himself to sit down more properly, letting his muscles relax. Taking out his little notebook to read, he stays, and his left hand drops to the ground, between the two of you, hand still clasped to yours, not letting go until you do.

#oxy !!#laios touden #dungeon meshi #laios touden x reader #laios touden x you #dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi x you #laios x reader #laios x you #dunmeshi x reader #dunmeshi x you #laios fluff #dunmeshi fanfic #laios dunmeshi #laios drabble #dungeon meshi drabble

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anisespice · 8 months ago

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heyy

can i request hanma w reader who has abandonment issues? if you don’t write for that kind of topic it’s fine!!(:

take care!!<33

of course! thank u for the request anon, sorry for the delay <3 had to do some more research into the topic, and brush up on my hanma lol hope you enjoy :)) !!

pairing: hanma x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, MDI, crude jokes, violence, cringy/cornball behavior lol and hanma gets his own warning, not proof read, sorry for any errors!! and i think that’s it :)

notes: SO SORRY FOR TAKING LITERALLY A WHOLE YEAR TO MAKE THIS ANON, i wanted to do a little bit of research on the topic (ended up learning a little about myself LMAO) but it’s finally done! i’m happy with how it turned out, and i figured this format would work perfectly, so i hope you enjoy!! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow, @captaincyberqueen

I struggled with the idea of how Hanma would be like with someone with abandonment issues/anxious attachment. At first, I figured he’d be the absolute worst in terms of handling someone with such an intense need for validation and reassurance, but after some further contemplation I realized how he’d be the absolute best—To the most unhealthily healthy degree, if that makes sense. Let me explain:

“yo, who’s blowing up your phone?”

“jeez, your s/o again? talk about excessive”

“couldn’t be me, bro. if i was you, i’d set a boundary-”

hanma wouldn’t miss a beat by giving them a dangerous grin and say, “i’ll a set a boundary for your fucking teeth if you say another word about my s/o.”

then, in the same beat, he’ll answer your call with a whole different energy, like, “hey doll, my love, my sweet, my sexy” something corny like that

you’d express that he said he’d be back around 9, and it was pushing 9:30…

he’d chuckle fondly, “aw, you miss me that bad? you’re obsessed, doll, it’s adorable.~”

the guys with him would watch in shock as the usually violent, and quick to annoyance, shuji hanma was…understanding? patient??

i hc hanma to be so so so patient with you whenever you get that intense clingy feeling, or talk yourself into thinking he’s sick of you and your neediness

homie WANTS you to want him

even to an unhealthy attached degree, sign him up, yes ma’am, yes ham, yes turkey

if you do get into those moods of feeling like he’ll leave you, TRUST that he’s gonna feed into it just a little bit (he’s a bit of a sadistic bastard) only to shower you with every possible reassurance until you are drowning in him him HIM

“why you cryin’, hm? i said i’ll be back, what, you think i’ll just up and leave? never come back?”

“hm, maybe i should do that, make you miss me a little more, yeah?”

but, once he sees you’re really torn up about the thought, he’d gather you in his arms with a small, teasing grin, kissing your tears away and telling you how silly you’re being

“baby, i’d rather get shot in both of my legs than ever think of leaving you”

“you couldn’t get rid of me even if you begged”

“no more cryin’, kay? i hate seeing you cry…unless it’s for different reasons” he’d suggest, earning a weak hit to his arm for being a pervert

he’d snigger, holding you up until your legs wrapped around his waist, “how bout you just come with me then, hm?”

he’s not perfect, far from it, but he tries

he’ll tease, and poke, and push but he always has his moments where he takes your situation deathly serious

let someone talk shit about you in anyway, whether it’s about how you need to touch him a lot, or constantly text/call just to hear his voice, or accuse him of this that and the third, just let someone TRY it and he finds out about it

“man, i don’t know how he puts up with them”

“yeah, his s/o clearly has some issues..”

“god forbid he’s gone for more than ten minutes, it’s like they’re some kind of parasite-“

the air in the room shifts DRASTICALLY when they eventually notice hanma standing there, with you at his side looking more than upset

how long he’d been there didn’t matter…the damage was done as soon as those idiots spoke your name

if looks could kill, they’d be playing uno w the devil right about now and losing

hanma looked rather calm. but his eyes told a different story as the gold shined bright with malicious intent

he slowly grinned, tilting his head “oh? don’t stop on our account. keep talkin’. i wanna know what else you think.”

none dared to even blink

you sniffled, embarrassed, ready to bolt out of there, but hanma’s grip on your hand doesn’t falter, merely pulling you closer as he rested his chin on your head

you wiggled for a moment, but hanma wasn’t letting you go anywhere

he called out your name, making you stop as he turned you in his hold to have you look him in the eye

“stay right here. i want you to see just how much i love you. my little parasite.~”

hanma had you stand there and witness what happens whenever someone dares to speak on you and your relationship, solidifying his devotion and loyalty to you and you only

as those guys laid in a pool of their own blood, hanma still took the time to shower you in love and his undivided attention

he’d wipe your tears with bloodstained hands and kiss you hard on the mouth

“you’ll never be too much for me, [_____].”

#🍁wasabi #🍁allspice #tokyorev #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev #hanma #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #tokyo revengers hanma #hanma fluff #hanma shuuji x reader

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zipyolip · 2 months ago

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I’ll Be Talking More About My Actual Shifting Experiences

Well, I already have, but I’d regard those more as ‘manifestation’ experiences. I like to use the word manifestation to describe more common shifts—things that aren’t too different from our past reality but still qualify as both a shift and a manifestation.

For example, breathing and walking are shifts in reality, but they’re so ingrained that I wouldn’t even call them manifestations.

However, ‘shifts’ like getting out of jury duty, extending a deadline, randomly getting bought an Uber at a bus stop, or receiving a higher pay rate after already being told it was capped—those are things I’d classify as manifestations.

I use the term shifting for way more dramatic changes. For example, shifting into a timeline where Trump never existed/was never elected, xenophobia doesn’t exist, waking up in an entirely different place, bringing people back from the dead, or traveling to a universe where magic is more advanced. You know, things that would change society and reality so drastically that you couldn’t help but notice how everything is different.

Anyhow, Time for Some Shifting Storytimes.

So, I cracked the code for lucid dreaming to shifting, and now I totally get how people have been shifting accidentally. 😭

Hi, I’m Zip Yo Lip. I’ve talked about my experiences with lucid dreaming before. I’m a master lucid dreamer and master reality shifter who, up until recently, could not shift through dreams. I said I’d learn it soon, and lo and behold… I actually did end up learning how to shift through dreams!

For me, it was more about realizing, “Okay, well. Obviously, I’m dreaming, but I’m so powerful that I can easily just make this my reality and stay here for a loooong time.” Shifting like that was super trippy—it was like realizing we’re just a dream inside a dream inside a dream. Especially when you shift straight from your dream into a new reality, it makes you wonder, “Damn… was that past timeline even real?” And to you, it really isn’t anymore.

But! It was at some point.

Your past reality doesn’t really exist anymore because you’re not there to experience it—you can only recall it through memories. Crazy stuff.

It was extra trippy because I’ve been lucid dreaming for so long that I got used to my symptoms. A while back, my dreams caught on to the method I was using to recognize I was dreaming, and it actually became harder for me to lucid dream. My dreams started giving me phantom senses. I remember getting stabbed in a dream once and waking up feeling the shadow of where I’d been stabbed.

The Dream That Helped Me Shift

In the dream I used to shift, I could literally feel people physically touching me. That was the spark that reminded me about shifting while I was still in that state of almost getting swept away by the dream.

Because if you don’t control your dreams, they control you—and they’ll take the flow wherever the hell they want.

When I first started lucid dreaming, I had no physical senses in my dreams. That hasn’t been the case for a long time, though—I at least have a phantom limb-like sense of touch now.

So in this dream, I felt somebody touch my shoulder. Since I was aware I was dreaming, I was shook.

“What the fuck? How are you doing that? How can I feel you? It’s not like I shifted—Oh my god, wait, I can totally shift right now! Okay… boom.”

I grounded myself completely in that dream reality. Just focusing my awareness on my physical senses was enough to shift me completely.

It was a random shift, and I hadn’t planned it at all. That’s why I ended up shifting back. Also, I wanted to document the experience here.

The fact that I was able to turn my dream into reality makes me think dreams have always just been a form of getting lost in your imagination.

Looking Back on My Old Fears

Kinda sucks thinking about it like that, though, because most of my childhood dreams were nightmares. Then again, I was also incredibly paranoid and constantly convinced there was a monster in my closet out to get me. Definitely explains why. Accidentally set myself up with that one.

I suppose that was a bad way of thinking—especially for my past self, who was always imagining the worst and believing those fears had a real possibility of happening. No matter how monstrous or unlikely they seemed in this reality, my younger self still thought, "What if?"

But honestly? I’m way past the point of caring. I’m not even scared of the things I used to be scared of.

If anything, I see it as a victory.

Like, Yeah… I overcame my fear. What did you do?

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teddypickrwritings · 10 months ago

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*exciting noises* how do you think of a scenario about morning star!Ithaqua x simp!reader (feel free to skip if it is not in your liking) (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Anything for You - Night Watch (Morningstar) x Reader

A/N: Is it even possible not to simp for Morningstar? I could be biased, but that skin is one of the coolest limiteds. Sorry that this ended up being so short, and if Helel is a little OOC.

“What is it about me that makes you so devoted?” Helel asked you one day. He had a teasing lilt to his voice that masked his genuine curiosity.

You smiled a bit bashfully and broke your gaze from him. “You couldn’t have known it at the time, but…you saved me,” you said quietly. “I was an indentured servant at the time of the rebellion. Things got out of hand one day, and…well, my boss died in an accident caused by one of your followers. That was the happiest day of my life.”

Helel was taken aback from your honesty. He hadn’t expected you to open up like that. But now that he knew your story, your behavior towards him made more sense. Something akin to pride welled up in his chest. “Is that all?” he murmured, half to himself.

“Do you really want to know?” you asked.

“Enlighten me.”

In a bold move, you took his hands into your own. How tiny yours seemed, even though his were average-sized. Perhaps it was the claws that gave the illusion of them appearing bigger.

“Aside from you saving me, you’re just…beautiful,” you said, face reddening a bit and then contorting with regret. “Ah, that was foolish of me to say. You’ve never taken off your mask completely, so how would I know…”

Helel’s pale red lips curled into a smile. It occurred to him how much more praises you would sing for him if he took it off…no, what was he thinking?! Your foolish devotion was nice, yet you shouldn’t be so captivating to him. “So if I’m understanding correctly,” he said slowly, “you’d do anything for me?”

“Yes, my king,” you replied immediately.

“You would jump off a bridge if I told you to?”

“If it made you amused, yes.”

The king was perplexed now. “I don’t understand you. Your former life was all about following orders, yet you’re re-living it by being under my rule…”

You smiled. “There’s a difference. It was my choice to follow you. I didn’t have a choice before,” you explained.

Helel still didn’t really understand. But it was at that moment that he realized you were still holding his hands. Instead of pulling them away, he surprised you by holding yours. “You do realize that I could turn out to be just as awful, right?” he asked.

“Perhaps. But I believe you wouldn’t do anything drastic,” you said bravely. “You don’t seem like that kind of person.”

The room was quiet for a while as Helel processed your words. Once he did, he started laughing. Was it at your naivety? Or that you were probably right? He was a dangerous man, but certainly not as cruel as his brother.

“A-Are you okay, my king?” you fretted. Only now did you feel some semblance of embarrassment at your words.

Helel’s laughter died down and he looked at you with a wide smile. “You are truly something,” he said, a little breathless. He lifted your hands towards his face and kissed the tops of them very lightly. “Aren’t I lucky to have someone like you…”

It was your turn to be confused now, though you felt more flattered and excited than anything. “I take it that means that I’m allowed to be by your side?” you inquired with a cheeky little grin.

“If that is what you wish,” Helel said as nonchalantly as he could. Really, he was just as happy as you. It was a weird feeling for him.

But if it meant that he could receive your unrelenting adoration, see your cute face and hear your cute voice everyday, then so be it.

#identity v #identity v ithaqua #identity v night watch #identity v x reader #identity v x you #idv ithaqua #idv night watch #idv x you #ithaqua x reader #idv night watch x reader

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the-100-days-of-junkan · 4 months ago

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Day 98

What’s better than this, girls havin fun by Oxidize

That’s right our final piece in the fanfic marathon is once again from Oxidize! A fact that surprised the fuck out of me when I found it out, given the drastic difference in tone between this and Burning Lungs.

It’s also a Chatfic! Which like, how the fuck do I draw that?? I’ll tell ya! I didn’t! What I actually did was I made art inspired by the fic rather than actually based off of it. Does that sentence make sense? No fucking idea!

But you all know what this is. It is THE fic, the one that started everything off. Until I found this story my connection was Junkan was thinking it was a no good, toxic as hell ship, but also something that could be pretty funny if you played it as “Junko derails her entire plan because she thinks Mikan is hot.” And when I say prior to this fic I’m talking like, 2017-2018. Since that joke was based on a convo that was had in a server I’m no longer apart of and have no plans of returning too, which I left in 2019. 2019 was a real blank year for me and Junkan from what I remember.

Anyway, there is just a little build up to this fic, but it isn’t Junkan related so I’ll try to keep it short.

So once upon a time I had just gotten into Danganronpa, conveniently I also discovered AO3, a treasure trove of stories about girls kissing. This was at first used for me to read as much Tokomaru as possible, something which would totally have no massively scaled effects on me as a person such as say, my egg cracking and me realizing I’d be happier as a woman. But we all run out of fics eventually, and it didn’t take many insomnia fueled binge reads of the Tokomaru tag for me to run out of stories. So what did I do? Get addicted to Chat Fics!! What the fuck else would I do, right? I just looked up Danganronpa and Chatfic and went to town, I initially avoided them on my Tokomaru binge because when it comes to ships, I’m pretty much always going to prioritize a fic where they’re the focus rather than a fic where they have like, 5 paragraphs of screentime. I would see a Fic, check the tags to see if it had Tokomaru, and if it didn’t, I moved on. And funny enough given current events, if it had a ship like Junkan, I also skipped forward. Oh how the fucking times change.

I got addicted to these for like, a month or two I think. I would find one, start reading, and couldn’t fucking stop reading until it was finished. I just loved seeing the stupid antics the different classes would get up to, moreso when they interacted with eachother. I vividly remember laughing my ass off at one storyline where a few of the characters get lost in either an ikea or a costco? Hard to remember but god it was funny. These fics could change tone rapidly, had their own series of tropes and plotlines that’d recur throughout different ones, one fic got really fucking dark out of nowhere and it was jarring as hell, they were amazing. I kinda miss the days when I read them in such excess, I always kind of wanted to make one but also god no I could never.

If there was one perk to these Chatfics, aside from more Tokomaru, it was that it definitely broadened my horizons for what ships I was interested. Prior to this I liked Tenmiko and Tokomaru, that was about it. But through these chatfics I got into stuff like Irumatsu, Celesgiri (Fell off of that though), and most importantly and relevantly, Ikuzono.

So I of course, would eventually go on a quest throughout the Mukuro x Sayaka tag on AO3, sometime during early 2020. And unfortunately that was a significantly rarer pair to find fics for, especially for me at the time who was a lot pickier and only looked for Fluff on most days.

So of course, I see this fic, and I almost skipped forward when seeing the Junkan Tag. But then I read the rest of the tags, emphasizing that it wasn’t gonna be abusive. So I thought “Fuck it” and went for it.

And thus the second domino fell.

Ironically while reading it I wasn’t focusing on the Ikuzono parts, helped partially by the fact that the relationship wasn’t established yet. But the Junkan? It wasn’t the deepest thing I had ever read at that point. It was like most Chatfics, silly, goofy, probably a little out of character, the usual stuff. But this felt different, it was something I had no experience with, and why would I? Up till now I was under the impression that Junkan was one of the most bottom of the barrel ships available in Danganronpa. Y’know cause I was like, only 2 years past my teens so my brain was still made of soup.

But this was god damn adorable. Mikan was sweet and adorable, Junko was silly and showed nothing but support and love for Mikan. She calls her a Cinnamon Apple! And the fact that I’ve never stolen that nickname is a fucking crime!

There isn’t really a lot to talk about in terms of what actually happens. Junko does cute stuff with Mikan, Junko dropkicks Hiyoko in the head because she’s bullying Mikan, and Junko gets in detention, resulting in antics. It is just a really cute, pleasant fic that makes me really happy to read.

As you can tell that makes doing art based on this, as chatfics don’t lend themselves super easily to visuals. The best I could do is the aforementioned Junko dropkicking Hiyoko while Mikan watches, but it’s been a few years and I don’t have hatred in my soul for Hiyoko anymore.

So I opted to make something inspired by the vibe of the fic instead! And also add in some 2000s energy! Because I have an obsession with the 2000s aesthetic, and it has as much of a violent grip on me as Junkan.

To capture that 2000s energy I tried to make this look like an ancient, shitty photo taken off of a flip phone. Cause I love flip phones, and hate Smart Phones. Which is why there’s a third version of this art that was purely an excuse for me to draw a Flip Phone. I don’t care if a chatroom like this realistically wouldn’t exist on them at this point in time, I hate Smartphones and I will be petty about it.

Adding to the attempt at making the photo feel aged as shit I also tried to recreate the red eye that could be sometimes found in old photos from this era. As for the designs, ya’ll probably noticed by now that I drew Mikan similar to how I did for the Burning Lungs art. That’s because ever since I found out this fic was made by the same author, I’ve just kind of headcanonned that this fic is takes place sometime after where Burning Lungs would have ended, which I assume would have involved the two getting together.

Now, the keen eyed reader will probably realize that wouldn’t make sense because Mukuro and Sayaka were already together in Burning Lungs. Whereas in this fic they aren’t together at all. And you’re right, that is in fact a big flaw with me considering these to take place in the same timeline.

But also. Look at the past 97 fuckin days. And all the other shit I drew while these were posted. It is safe to assume that when it comes to details that conflict with something I’m really into, I am just a little willing to ignore those details.

So Mikan gets her cute little bandaids, her itchy sweater which I imagine Junko would really enjoy cuddling into by this point, and a small detail that was only noted for a moment during Burning Lungs, but a chipped tooth as well. It was really nice gettin’ to draw this version of the characters again! Even if I still lack a lot to talk about with this piece, I simply hope ya’ll enjoy it!

And with that I think I’ve told all there is to tell in terms of how I got into this ship. Only took me 98 fucking days to explain it all properly, and backwards no less! Almost like this wasn’t thought out super far in advance or something! I feel like I should have more to say here but really, I kinda just, don’t? Hope ya’ll have enjoyed the Fanfic Marathon! As I’ve said before I really wanna show more love to the writing community for Junkan in the future, both for currently available fics, and the fics that have yet to be written!

For now though, there are only 2 days left. And I have hopefully saved the best for laugh in terms of my own personal contributions. Ya’ll ready for another comic?

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

#danganronpa #junkan #junko enoshima #mikan tsumiki #junko x mikan #tsumiki mikan #shipping #junkomikan #enomiki #enoshima junko

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princeblue · 4 months ago

Note

Do you think Ubuyashiki is well liked by the fandom without people realizing how he literally employed children into battles making use of their trauma?

Hmm, interesting question because I feel like if I say yes I’m basically inferring that the entirety of the kny and/or kagaya Stan’s are stupid people, which is not a fair or valid generalization to make.

But, I do not often see people critiquing Kagaya, so I feel like it may be due to something along the “not realizing” lines.

Because at the end of the day? Kagaya isn’t really better than Muzan. He and Muzan are not parallels, they are mirrors. On one side of the mirror, you see a leader rule with fear, on the other side of the mirror, you see the leader rule with… grace, let’s put it like that.

And when you really look into Muzan’s character, he doesn’t plainly state that he wants to turn everyone to demons, or to rule the world. I’m sure it’s in the back of his mind, but it’s not something he establishes as what he wants, what he Does establish is wanting the blue spider Lilly to walk into the sun again. To be this perfect, healthy, ultimate lifeform.

And similarly enough? Kagaya is not saying he wants to rid the world of demons like other characters, he’s not saying hes wanting to save the world, he is not saying he wants to purge the world of demons for the greater good.

He wants to break the curse on his family, for himself.

And I don’t blame him for it! I would too! But Kagaya is seen as giving runaways a home, as giving orphans somewhere warm to be. Giving the lost a path. And he really, and truthfully does not do that. Sure, for Gyomei he does. But everyone else is brought in through another corps member that is not Kagaya.

So I don’t really understand why he’s regarded so highly by the hashira (excluding Gyomei and the Rengoku family as generational hashira) because he truthfully does not do anything of value.

Which, interestingly enough, Tanjirou himself states that he feels like he’s been placed under a magical spell in his presence. Which leads me to think he had some very thin remaining demon blood, but that’s besides the point.

The point is Muzan & Kagaya are self serving, everything they want is “my, me, mine.”

Muzan makes this known in a much more crude way, while Kagaya is playing this valiant front. He more than likely knows the system he has in place is flawed, that it is critically endangering the strength of the core, but he’s driven by desperation and hatred deep down inside. Which clouds his judgment or, makes him not care as deeply as he should.

There are multiple different ways which would more than likely have a higher success rate at not only strengthening and doubling their members, but decreasing the amount of dead children at his doorstep. (And I’d be happy to ramble about this in a different ask because I love world building.)

He could have placed demon slayers around the Tokitou residence to ensure their safety as Amane tried to coax them away and to the warrior life.

But he doesn’t and he didn’t, perfectly breaking Muichirou and molding him to be this lifeless puppet who is fueled by rage when he can remember and then taking the children who survive final selection who’s trauma is now doubled and worsened, making them reckless and drastic in battle, with only the rare few surviving long enough to either become experienced or a hashira.

But, the thing is, Kagaya sympathizes with them.

“I’ve been hurt by demons too, I’ve lost my loved ones to demon too, I hate demons too, I want demons gone too.”

Which turns into: “give your life for the cause, save those you couldn’t save before, fight for it all to be ended, fight for me.”

And the process repeats with Kagaya showing characters a molecule of sympathy and kindness and feeding into their trauma fueled ambition.

Tldr: I think it’s very easy to fall under this assumption that Kagaya is a good character because that’s the point, he’s supposed to be written in a way that makes you sympathize with him, to make you understand his want’s and needs, especially as he deteriorates in health. But again, that is the point because that’s exactly hah the hashira + corps member also believe.

But also, sometimes people just like morally gray characters, and that’s okay too! I personally am a big fan of morally gray characters. And I think Kagaya is an excellent example of that, because he can fool you too.

—

This was a bit of a messy response, I’ve had a rough day and I’m trying to distract myself. But I hope that you and everyone else were still able to follow along, thanks for the ask anon<3

#demon slayer #kny #blue rambles #anon #kagaya ubuyashiki #himejima gyomei

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merbear25 · 1 month ago

Text

Twisted Roads of Belonging (Caesar)

a/n: This is my first time posting my oc or s/i, so I thought it’d be a good idea to give some kind of introduction to her and her place in OP and give some interactions with characters before getting to the birthday part of this. I have a bunch of other ideas for her, maybe I’ll write about them too. The breaks signal a time skip (some longer than others but no time specified) @vividly-vermillion 😈

Casted to the shadows for what deemed her a danger to the public, Salem couldn’t allow her wings to be trimmed any longer. There had to have been a place for her over the horizon where she could let her true nature flourish.

CW: NSFW! MDNI! Female OC x Caesar, s/i, some fluff, vaginal sex, descriptions of animal and human death, experimentation, toxic fumes, rough sex, multiple creampies, daddy kink

“I’m sorry, my dear… I had to think of something else, something more drastic.” The shakiness in Salem’s voice only came after she realized what she’d done. The mildew smell and different shades of stone gray were a backdrop to the final chapter of many of these men’s lives.

A Marine whom she couldn’t save the old-fashioned way and was now better off dead due to her extreme measures. Such things couldn’t be helped—that was what her superiors told her, though she doubted they saw her as a do-gooder who simply made a mistake. She was past that point, and she was sure they knew that too. Keeping her around even after the gossip of ill intentions colored her in a bleak light, there was more than what met the eye when it came to the government; anyone with a brain could see that.

Dispose of what you could not salvage—she understood that to be loosely phrased on purpose, for she assumed her morbid curiosity was not exactly a mystery to those she worked with. Cutting through the skulls of those destined to die horrible deaths made the aftermath that much more palpable. Deep in thought, her hands worked on their own, severing the sections she needed to examine more closely. It was all for the greater good when it came with a noble sacrifice, and yet she often caught herself wondering if this so-called greater good was really as it seemed.

Glancing down at the drained body of the man who’d been sent to her for help, she wasn’t ready to admit her cruel nature to herself. Ashamed but unwilling to stop the many more that would meet their untimely death at her hands, she could only face the fact that she was selfish in her pursuits, nothing more sinister quite yet. That side of her still hid in her closet, peaking between the clothes resembling body bags.

Salem pushed that grim reality back into the corners of her mind, while she concentrated on examining the samples. “Death’s hands had already claimed you.” Her solemn hum was diluted with a twitching smirk.

She took a moment to recall the man’s appearance and shook her head. There would’ve been no saving him regardless of what she tried. As if out of habit, she took a blood sample for herself. The immorality that came with playing with leftovers should have left an unsavory taste in her mouth, but Salem developed the bad habit many moons ago. Shaking her head, she tried to rattle out that little voice.

You shouldn’t do that. Others won’t understand why you’ve done what you’ve done.

“I shouldn’t care what others think.” She gritted her teeth at the constant battle within her. Everyone wanted to be accepted for who they were, but it seemed most could only be accepted for what they ought to be. Forced to hide their true selves—that was the place she’d found herself, although she fought it tooth and nail.

But you do care.

She frowned at that. There was a part of her that was fearful of letting go of that yearn for acceptance from those who simply didn’t and would never understand her. Perhaps it was merely a community she had at one point wanted to be involved in, seeing as she wasn’t able to find her own sense of companionship.

Side projects of hers were in abundance, and expanding upon a viral blood disorder was the new addition. Salem gazed up fondly at the shelf dedicated to those that needed that perfect time to flourish. Swirling murky water in a jar was a favorite of hers. The critters within stayed hidden to the naked eye; a charm that didn’t seem to sit right with others.

Her eyes fell. “What am I still doing here?”

Placing her hands on the desk, she leaned back in the chair. She sighed while taking in her surroundings—banished to the basement to carry out unspeakable projects, only kept around for the advancements they wanted, that they classified as worthy. Her brow furrowed. Everything she wanted to accomplish had to be done in secret, her higher-ups bearing too much shame to admit they were tied to her, stringing her along for the “good” she was capable of.

What did it mean to be good or bad in a world where they mixed into shades of grey anyway? The lines were blurred. The ones who refused to acknowledge that were the same who clipped her wings. Floodgates of emotion washed away any shreds of loyalty she’d been clinging onto. Tattered trust from the years of perceived mistreatment disintegrated in her hands, finally pushing her to cut ties.

“I don’t deserve this.” Muttering to herself, the rash decision to find a place to spread her bandaged wings guided her. The dampness of the cement walls was unsavory as they wept at the sight of the long-term tenant up and leaving.

There was something more for her, and it was just out of reach of the suppressing grip of the World Government.

--------------------

A journey to find the place she could be herself was a tall order. Quick judgement casted people like her into the shadows for daring to push the boundaries. The glimmer of hope that there was someone like her who craved that bittersweet bite of death was persistent, albeit flimsy. Head held high, the hope of finding others like her was her beacon.

Twisting roads that seemed to coil tighter and tighter around her made her wonder how much longer she would have to travel.

No one will come to answer your prayers.

Even though the voice in her head continuously casted doubt, it wasn’t enough to shake her confidence. Why shouldn’t I find where I belong when so many others have? They’re not any more special than me, and I’m not any less deserving.

Self-assurance played on repeat to shout over what may hold her back from succeeding. Lost in her own thoughts, a mere glance was given to the shifting surroundings.

Wanted posters littered the walls more freely in the area she found herself in. Miles worth of weather-worn faces watched her. The repeating offenders didn’t phase her until there was a pair of eyes void of everything she was hesitant to abandon that found her—buried between the newer papers. Peeling them off one by one, her eyes scanned over the man with horns.

The oil street lamps began to flicker when she pulled it off the cold stones. She brought it closer, feeling an eerie recognition. His name was illegible, making her nibble her lip trying to recall it. Ripping off the many layers, posters of him were few and far between.

The breeze made her shiver. Each one of his wanted posters had his name either torn or damaged. There had to be one. Another grasp at a layer tore them off to reveal his identity.

“Caesar Clown.”

The flames lighting the street were sucked away with the sudden gust of wind, bringing a darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

---------------------

“A new arrival, you say?” He tapped his chin, mulling over what Monet had informed him. A sly grin stretched his purple lips. “I suppose I should give my final say if you think she’s worth the time.” Chuckling to himself, he took his time coming over to meet the newcomer Monet was telling him about.

Entering the room, he watched her from a distance. The doe-eyed expression she had while looking around made him snort to himself. A smirk played on his lips as he had a hard time understanding why someone as close to him as Monet thought she was worth anything to him. Before he had the chance to sneak up on her, she turned to greet him.

Her sweet blush spread on her cheeks from the flustered encounter, and the little smile she gave was unbecoming for the work she did. “It’s nice to meet you,” she squeaked out. “My name’s—”

“Salem, yes. Monet has told me a lot about you, actually.” Caesar loomed over her, as if inspecting her closely. “Perhaps you’ll enlighten me as to why that is.”

In spite of the heat prickling on her face, she’d never felt so close to the life she’d envisioned for herself, which gave her every reason to push forward. The confidence exuding from her made his grin reappear, eager to know what exactly his assistant saw in her.

“Well, I did manage to save my personal projects when leaving the navy base.” Caesar took a mental note to circle back to that later. “This one,” Salem said with glee, “is my favorite.” She hugged the jar close to her, smiling down at it like it was her own child.

The swirling mass shimmered faintly in the light. Parasites. How intriguing. Before he had the chance to ask, she offered to give him a demonstration.

“If you’d like, I can show you just why I adore them so much. However, it would be better to test them on someone you don’t particularly favor…” Her voice trailed into an eerie delight. The smile on her face twisted the innocence he’d mistaken her for.

“I have many guinea pigs we can use, don’t you worry,” he hummed. The excitement sparkling in her eyes made him cackle.

“I just need a glass from them to drink from. We shouldn’t have to wait long afterwards.” She was petting the jar, clearly out of affection. His eyes looked her over again, making him wonder about this peculiar little thing that found her way to Punk Hazard.

“Say no more.” He instructed Monet to gather refreshments for the workers.

They were too simple minded to sniff out any of his tricks, especially when it was handed to them by the woman they fawned over. A little drop was all that was necessary for the unfortunate soul to succumb to what was needed for Salem to earn her place.

The giddiness in her as she looked on gave a vibrancy that was hard to come by in such grim work. She glanced up at him, meeting those yellow eyes that bathed her in speculation. A disgruntled groan came from the group, breaking Caesar’s focus. Turning on his heels, he nodded for Monet to bring the man in so as not to ruse a panic. Even without having seen Salem’s work unfold entirely, he was sure it wasn’t anything new. However, there was a sliver of him that hoped this wouldn’t turn out to be a massive disappointment.

When the man was brought in, he was already riddled with agony. He was laid down on a table, crying of severe stomach pain.

“How would you describe this pain? One being none and ten being the worst pain of your life.”

“Ten,” he choked out.

Caesar threw a glance at Salem before returning to the henchman with a reassuring tone. “Don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can to help you.” Lying through his teeth, he was simply biding time.

Each groan reached a new level of severity, while he helplessly thrashed upon the table to the empty words that were no longer soothing his worries. Sweat broke out over him and his pale expression quickly turned to a beet red as the veins in his neck and face throbbed. His hand tore at the bulge scurrying up under the side of his neck.

Eyes rolling back, body seizing, nails nowhere near sharp enough to dig the torment out: the onlookers were a mix of cruel fascination and hesitant glee. A sudden splatter of blood painted across the table as the newly freed isopod made its escape, but it was soon imprisoned by another glass jar. Salem held her grip on the top tightly, slowly getting down to eye level.

“Without strict measures, they could cause quite the fuss.” Her face softened from the mere thought of chaos running rampant through the various species the world had to offer. “Isn't it vial?” The romantic tone to her voice was paired with a dreamy sigh.

Caesar smirked at the admiration she had not just towards her creation but towards the disorderly terror that it could cause. With a deep breath he gazed back down at the man. Before even examining him, the sight the critter had created from the open wound on his neck was grotesque within itself.

Monet cut open the clothes to a seemingly unscathed torso. Her eyes locked with Caesar's for a moment before he sliced down the abdomen. Caving in almost entirely, the skin collapsed around the half eaten organs scattered within the carcass. A clear pathway could be traced to where the creature made its way out, sparking even more interest in what Salem had showcased.

“Well, that was a productive introduction.” His laugh carried throughout the room. “Maybe I will have use for your creativity after all.” Gingerly, his fingers danced along the recently deceased specimen, taking in the view of the patterns at which their little friend feasted.

Her eyes flickered up at him, appearing warped from the jar's thick glass. Smiling at her in satisfaction, his attention then turned back to his assistant. The nod was a silent understanding to take the demonstration away for further inspection at a later time. When the heavy doors slammed shut, he clasped his gloved hands together.

“So you mentioned the navy.” His smile bore into her. Seeing her cling onto the jar with the enlarged parasite tapping around made his eyes narrow wickedly.

“Yes, I worked for them, although there was hardly anything worth working for in a place like that.” She trailed her finger up and down the glass jar, recalling the shut-in they forced her to be.

“They’re known for stomping out anything they don’t understand.” Watching her tease the bug through the glass got him feeling a type of discomfort that was completely foreign to him, not anything along the lines of disgust, and yet sickening all the same.

Clearing his throat to snag her attention from what she was doing, he then extended his hand with a friendly offer. “If I may, I'd like to take a look at what you've created. It's a fine specimen that I promise to keep safe.”

Salem's eyes fell to the carnivorous bug, feeling a prickling pain at the thought of giving it up.

“I won't do anything to it without your permission. You have my word.” He placed his right hand over his chest and raised his left, solemnly swearing in order to earn her trust. Her hesitation spoke volumes. She was unwilling to part with it? How intriguing.

With a long sigh, she said, “I’m only willing if that means you’ll take me on your team.”

“But of course! So much potential shouldn’t be casted out onto the streets.” His eyes soaked in every inch of her, the gears already turning on how best to capitalize on her talents. “You know, I’ve always wanted an apprentice of some sort.” He hummed and nodded at his own remark. “Yes, and I believe you fit the bill nicely. So, what do you say?” A hand was extended to her once more, this time offering her something she was only dreaming of up until this point.

A place that actually wanted her for who she was and with other like-minded individuals: it almost seemed too good to be true. “What’s the catch?”

He exhaled deeply to steady himself. “Not so much a catch as much as a condition. Just to make sure I don’t have any…problems, I’ll need you to lend me your heart.” The shock at the request was understandable, seeing as she wasn’t aware of how such a thing was going to be conducted. “Don’t worry, it’ll be painless. There’s someone here who can swap it from you without you even feeling a thing!” Caesar giggled at the concern blanketing her face.

“If that’s what it takes, then fine.” Her mind was already made up. Someone else like her wasn’t going to come along any time soon. With her heart beating fast, she stared him in the face and nodded in agreement.

His laugh settled and became faint with desire to uncover more about her. “Alright then.” Promptly sitting down on the sofa, he called the assumed colleague of his while keeping his gaze on hers.

Salem wasn’t short by any means. However, being around people like Caesar and Monet dwarfed her in comparison, sitting on the couch opposite to him made it that much more obvious. Her feet dangled above the ground, so she could sit comfortably. The embarrassment from feeling child-sized by a mere piece of furniture was desperately shoved down.

Don’t give him any leverage.

Sh-Shut up, not now. She was already fighting with that voice in her head. A seed of doubt had yet to be planted, but knowing her, it was only a matter of time. Her eyes flickered up at him, without even noticing he’d already finished his call and was just watching her now. Absent-mindedly playing with her skirt, the attempt to self-soothe wasn’t working well with her new boss staring at her.

Leaning across the table, his lower half turned to gas to allow more comfort. He propped himself on his laced fingers and smiled at her. “Tell me, Salem. What other personal projects did you have while working for the World Government? Don’t tell me you’re a one hit wonder.” He chuckled at his own joke, though she got the impression he’d dispose of her if she were to ever disappoint him.

“Truth be told, I wasn’t working for them for very long. That being said, I was inspired to create a flesh eating disease and a viral blood disorder, but I should confess the blood disorder is nowhere near finished. I left the base just after starting it.”

“You specialize in biological warfare, I see…” He closed his eyes and gently turned his head from side to side, as if rolling around an idea he had in store for her. “Those ideas of yours, are they always as catastrophically grisly?” His eyes shot open and his face became grim.

Not sure what kind of answer he was looking for, she gave one that was honest. “Well, yes, I suppose they are. I find a lot of beauty in the horrors of our world and adore bringing them to light. Maybe it’s distasteful to some to have such a passion, but it gives me this feeling of being… whole.” Salem’s eyes shimmered with a devotion to the craft she was describing, already envisioning herself pursuing more.

There was something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that plucked admiration in him but that also called upon a disquiet deep within him. “You’d do right by yourself if you just cut those naysayers out of your life.”

Approaching footsteps took Caesar’s attention from her. Taking his advice to heart, she smiled at him all without him noticing the awe-struck gratitude he’d helped flourish. Throwing his arm over the backrest, he spread his legs to accommodate his large size.

“What took you so long?” He called to the figure who was hiding his face under a large hat.

“It takes time to walk through here. We can’t all fly like you.” His icey tone made Caesar scoff.

“Whatever! Law, this is our new addition to the team Salem. She’s also my apprentice.” His delivery exuded a pride in himself for being able to carry another title of superiority.

Even if the occasion was in high spirits for both her and Caesar, Law’s glare at that ‘apprentice’ title he’d given her was a threat to her good mood more than Caesar’s.

After babbling about himself and how perfect he was for Salem to learn from, Caesar instructed Law to carry out the conditions. He waited a moment. When the stare-off between the both of them wasn’t ending, Caesar clicked his tongue in annoyance and snapped his fingers at Law impatiently.

“Don’t get distracted by the new pretty girl. I need you to take her heart!”

His demand was carried out. Before she could blink, a swift hand movement placed her heart in Caesar’s palm. The heart murmur set hers apart, making it more vulnerable than the others in more ways than one.

“What a unique characteristic to a unique woman.” He played his cards well, already gathering what he would need to do to keep her under his thumb.

He’s playing you.

I know that! She collected herself, sometimes that voice had a point. “It takes a keen eye to appreciate such a thing.” A soft tone that carried her words far, the effect ignited a tingling of butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

His grin returned, completely ignoring the grimace from Law on his way out. The cold shoulder Law gave both of them made her shiver. He was a stick in the mud—that was what she tried to convince herself of to make this transition easier. She wasn’t the odd one… Law had to have been.

“Don’t pay him any mind.” He tucked her heart into his robe for how he put it ‘safe keeping’. “How about you and I discuss your projects in more detail.” The lengthening clouds of gas spread to her as he moved from the sofa posing as soft gestures urging her to follow him into the lab.

“There are some kinks we need to work out with the creatures, of course, but I must say I like the way you think.” He lazily gestured towards Salem, chuckling to himself as they neared the doors.

“Maybe I’m a bit too partial to the ��all or nothing’ mentality,” she mentioned modestly. “I figured if there’s a chance I could die, then why not take the rest of the world with me?”

Stopping in his tracks, those words struck a chord with him. “And what an outlook to have.” The quiet voice was enough to send shivers down her spine, but there was a deep acceptance in his eyes.

The smile on her face couldn’t be helped. That look he gave her, whether it was intentional or not, it felt like home. His eyes lingered on her a bit longer. Although he turned away without returning her smile, his lips twitched at the corner once he knew she would not be able to see. He let out a deep sigh as the lab door opened.

---------------------

Intimidation piqued more than curiosity between them. Minds that perceived the world around them differently, and still came to gruesome outcomes, some being a toss up between the most nightmarish. Two forces of chaos: his being a silent killer while hers was a raging fire. Completely opposite to their outer appearances, they complimented these attributes uniquely.

Beyond the title he bore, so little was truly known about the man that’d caught her eye. Salem thought back to what led her here—chance. While she injected the virus into the rat’s bloodstream, the squirming from it was a soothing drum to the reminiscence of the past. Humming to herself, her eyes fluttered over to him. His hair was tied up as he squeezed out each drop of solution carefully.

The tip of his tongue always parted his lips slightly when he was deep in thought. As the final drop signaled a perfect result, his concentrated expression stretched to one of boast. His eyes met hers, letting his personality shine like hyper beams.

“You see? Just as I thought! Only three drops, not the five you were drowning the poor thing in.”

A giggle passed her lips at the pride he took in the littlest things. Clearing his throat, he couldn’t suppress the smile curling in the corners of his mouth.

Bubbling beakers and hazardous liquids being handled: this was hardly the place for an office romance. He was a smooth operator when he wanted to be, but such a facade was short-lived when he came to realize she was more than just a pretty face.

Peering over at the rat under her hand, he saw the spasms were dying down. “Looks like your little friend isn’t going to make it.” Feigned heartbreak came with a played up pout when he rolled over to her side.

Salem lifted her hand and was greeted with the flesh decaying at an accelerated rate. The heartbeat was frantically working alongside the dissolving lungs, not dead yet but praying to be soon. “Poor little thing, born to die.”

His hand snaked under hers to gather the ill-fated animal. “I never tire of that sweet smell of death,” he purred while holding it up by its tail and just above her head like a macabre mistletoe.

Diving forward, she crashed her lips into his. A hunger that only grew the longer her lips were on his. Returning her ravenous kiss was the least he could do. While their tongues sloppily swirled around each other, the rat slowly rotated on its decaying tail. The snap of it was followed by the soft thud. Neither acknowledged nor mourned, the only instance following the onset of death was Caesar's now freed hand pulling her closer.

He can't love. You've seen his heartlessness with your own eyes.

Her moans trailed into his mouth, trying to drain it out; that voice was a constant reminder of the weight she carried around. She deepened the kiss, desperately drowning the voice inside her head. Caesar’s hands gripped her tighter.

“That’s right… Show me how much you want me.” He panted softly as the need for more rose within him.

How do you get a man whose heart is wrapped in barbed wire to care about you?

Thorns that once pricked the fingers when she came too close, the sting went as quickly as it had come. Salem looked at the small beads of blood, crimson pearls that held a beauty so few cherished and a taste that sent the senses ablaze. Tongue swirling on the tip of her finger and her eyes meeting his: those orbs followed her wherever she went, even when his presence was just the goosebumps coming with a gust of wind.

You can't.

His hands ran up and down her thighs, teasing the lace on her thigh-high tights. Her face furrowed in an attempt at strangling that damn voice. Labored breaths and shaky moans, his fingers coaxed each delicious response from her.

Unbuttoning her own top, her chest rose and fell in the sheer lace bra. A low groan came from him before his mouth ravished her neck and alluring breasts. His tongue dragged over the faint, delicate dips of her top ribs, his fingers pulled the dainty cups below her breasts, and his teeth tenderly bit her nipples.

A mutual understanding that shifted and led them into a tango among the desolate land. Silence as dead as the ground and those underneath it, and yet they never felt more alive. The scent of death lingered wherever he went. A natural musk in a sense that quickly became her perfume. To be enveloped entirely by him—a desire that could lead to one being six feet under like the rest of them.

Her fingers tangled in his raven hair, and her eyes rolled back when they traced over his horns.

You lost to him.

“Take me,” she begged.

Squeezing her ass tightly, he thrusted into. Aggressive and animalistic, the passion burned more intensely the more time they spent together. Grunts of unbridled desire were driven into her, earning him those honeyed moans he had become addicted to. Dragging her nails down his back made him push her to those sweet, blissful limits. He gripped her long hair and yanked her head back, forcing her body to arch. That beautiful milky-white skin, her soft pink nipples, freckles kissing her body:

“You're mine.” Lost in her and the pleasure that exceeded the physical, coming undone at the seams was as natural as breathing.

Rendering her helpless, he plowed into her. Her slick pussy splattered against his hips, soaking his pubic hair and dripping down his balls. Caesar's pace remained vigorous, giving them the fix they'd be back craving soon enough. Streams of cum shot inside her, leaving flushed faces of unabashed ecstasy with each pump. His tongue fell out from his open mouthed smile. Panting over her, he got every last drop deep inside her.

Each time Salem laid with him, it was like she was being placed on a bed of roses. The thorns pricked her skin, only heightening the pleasure. The fragrance of the sweet petals mixing with the rusty scent of blood made their pupils dilate. Tantalizing erotica that had them licking the cuts left behind from their lovemaking. Each lick spread the blood across the tongue, enticing moans and heavy groping.

He buried his face between her breasts, squeezing them against his cheeks. As his spent cock softened and eased out of her, his thick cum left a trail down her slit and ass. Taking one of her nipples in his mouth, he flicked it teasingly with this tongue. Caesar cradled her in his arms, enjoying the taste of every inch of her honeydew skin.

“You’ll be the death of me.” His whisper bathed her sensitive skin.

“And what a spectacular death that would be.” Her mind was hazy as they came down from their shared high.

Minute details not gone unnoticed, neither of them were a stranger to assuming the worst, and yet over time those walls lowered. Peaking over the barrier hesitantly, assuming even, never confirmed the suspicions they kept under lock and key.

Caesar smiled against her skin, placing a soft kiss on the reddened breast. Pulling back, he looked down at the afterglow on her. The state he left her in set those butterflies free in the pit of his stomach. A feeling that he hadn’t begun to fully accept, though he obsessed over it nonetheless.

His fingers played with her wavy hair, curling the chestnut color around the long digit. “How are you going to top this for my special day?”

“Are you doubting my creativity?” Salem teased. Her cheeks flushed from the gentle touch contrasting the harshness from earlier.

“No, of course not,” he chuckled. His eyes were glued to her face, loving the effect he had on her. “But, a little kick in the rear never hurt anyone.” A firm spank was planted on her backside. That little yelp that came with it was quickly swallowed by another kiss, although his lips held onto her with a rare tenderness this time.

Salem’s lips ghosted his. “I’ll make you feel like the king you are.” It was a promise she would keep, no matter how many times that little voice nagged her.

---------------------

Your plan will only disappoint him.

You don’t know that. Crossing out some and revising others, she scribbled her ideas down as fast as they were coming; the door sliding open didn’t pull her attention away. The slow steps coming up behind her were from someone she wasn’t particularly close with. She turned around to face the one who’d taken her heart.

“Can I help you?” Her question wasn’t venomous by any means, although the suspicion was obvious.

He sat down in the chair off to the side, crossing his arms. Salem tapped her pencil and stared at him, her patience running thinner and thinner with each interaction they had.

“Fine. Don’t talk to me, just glare at me like you always do.”

Law’s icy demeanor was unscathed, though the irritation was mutual. “Why are you even here?”

She snapped her head towards him. “Excuse me?”

Biting his tongue, the cool tone was enough to get his feelings across. “You aren’t like them.”

He’s right.

“And what do you know? This is the first time we’ve even talked, so how can you know anything about me?” Her words flowed as all the doubts she thought she’d rid herself of bubbled out of her like stage three rabies.

The sorrow in her words left a bite that was one to pity than to wince at. Intently, his eyes flickered over the emotion flushing her cheeks and tearing up in her eyes. Even if he wanted to drive his point home, there was no need. There was something she had been holding onto long before arriving at Punk Hazard.

Law’s eyes scanned her face one more time before getting up. “That little voice in your head you keep ignoring? Most would call that a conscience.”

You don’t belong anywhere, even he can see that.

“You don’t know anything,” she shouted as he left her alone to sulk. Both that incorrectly titled conscience and Law couldn’t have been more wrong. She knew that. “I’ll show you, both of you. I belong somewhere… I belong here.”

Motivated now more than ever, she planned out the perfect birthday to spend with the man whom she was more fond of than anyone else.

---------------------

Sparks of interest lit the dim halls, illuminating the path leading to his lab. Seemingly as light as a feather, Salem was dragged towards him, the toes of her shoes ghosting along the floor the closer she got. Saturated shades of blues, pinks, and purples dizzied the mind. Rhythmic beats stirred the colors the closer she got. Her breath was being dragged out with each pull. Hot flashes of metal being sliced showed an outline of the man pulling the rope once she got to the entrance.

Salem’s heart fluttered at the sight of him perfecting one of his many feats in weaponry. His smile stretched across his pale face. “I’d know that presence anywhere.” Turning around, he lifted his goggles to get a good look at her entranced by him.

“I thought I’d come and collect the special man to celebrate his big day,” she hummed and draped her arms over his chest. “If you can manage to take a break from such genius unfolding, that is.” Her flirtatious giggle was infectious.

“Oh, you know true talent never falters.” His words wrapped around her like a constrictor, squeezing and releasing around her most sensitive areas.

She nipped his earlobe and lightly ran the tip of her tongue up the shell of his ear. “Then why don’t you come with me, my sweet billy goat?” Salem giggled softly at how that nickname made him blush.

He didn’t need much convincing, since he put faith in her and how well she knew him. Following her across the building to a room she renovated for the special occasion, he purposefully lagged behind a little to allow himself something extra to enjoy; Salem’s hips swayed gently, making the skirt of her dress show off the curves that drove him wild.

Upon reaching the entrance, she twirled around. Her dress flared up, showing a glimpse of her scantily thought out lingerie. “This is probably a little different than you were expecting, but I think you’ll really love it.” The excitement in her voice made his sly grin more devilish than usual.

“Oh? Then I guess you should go on and show me.” His smile bore into her, while she opened up the doors to an all white room. Eyebrow cocked and that slyness falling, he stepped in without quite seeing where she was going with this.

Salem ran off to get the last part to the surprise. When he saw her rolling out the paint cans, his arms uncrossed and were placed on his hips. There was a vibrant array of shades, some resembling the most toxic colors from their very own creations.

“There’s a lot of thought that goes behind all the chaos you bring to this unsuspecting world, so I thought it’d be a nice change if we could let go completely.”

Caesar watched her dip her hands into the fluorescent yellow paint, cupping them as it overflowed. With a sudden grunt of force, Salem threw the paint against the white walls as hard as she could. The subtle pants coming from her and the soft smile were endearing. Turning to him, her eyes sparkled with elation. “Now, you!” He tried to fight off a smile, but with her being so eager to please, he gave in.

Dipping his hand neon purple, he had to admit the feel of the chilled paint on his skin offered a refreshing sensation. A large amount of it remained in his hand before he whipped it across the yellow. Droplets splattered across a large portion of the wall, creating something that could only be managed once. A smirk played on his lips as he took it in.

“Look how much better this dull room already is!” His laugh was amplified in the barren space and grew louder with each force that carried a new handful of paint. The grunts behind the throws were mixing with the snickers of the crazed patterns they were creating.

A next flick of her wrists barely gave the amount of color she wanted, making the majority of it plop on the floor.

“Aw, how cute!” Teasing teetered on mocking, although it was one of the only ways he knew how to flirt. “Little hands like that can’t do anything! Shirororo!” He easily covered the acid green she added with a quick toss of hot pink.

A fire was lit under her, letting her competitive spirit shine through. Taking a full can of acid green, she ran up to the wall. “Oh, yeah? Watch this!” The grunt she gave while throwing the paint fell into a shriek when she slipped on globs of paint. Most of the acid green fell straight on her, plastering her to the white marbled floor.

Caesar’s laughter grew closer as he came over to inspect her. Salem’s entire torso was covered in a thick layer, and droplets were scattered up her neck, cheeks, and across her thighs. His roaring laughs soon died down to chuckles, while he wiped away the tears.

“Look at you, huh? You sure showed me!” Seeing that pure enjoyment on his face made Salem laugh along with him.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty to go around!” She took a handful of paint off her stomach and threw it at him.

He pulled at his clothes and then looked at her with a mischievous glint. Seeing how that paint made her clothes cling to her body got something stirring in him. “You want to play dirty? I’ll make a mess out of you, darling.”

His hand wrapped around her calf and he tugged her closer effortlessly. Her dress pulled up around her waist, showing off her lace hipsters. Hair already covered in paint, her cheeks being dusted a soft pink, and the unadulterated lust in her eyes: swiftly, he flipped her over on her shins and shoved her face against the floor.

Caesar spanked her ass, growling at the yelps she gave. The fumes in the room were making her dizzy and weak. “My head is spinning.” Being surrounded by vibrant colors was making the effects that much more intense: swirling and mixing shapes, feeling his hands grip her hips roughly.

He cooed at her. “Just let the fumes take you to new heights of euphoria.” His voice had a sadistic lust that echoed in her head. Peeling down her panties, he never tired of the sight of her sweet body.

She was so willing to give herself to him. Even if the ways he wanted her were perverse, she wanted him with the same level of fervor.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

Its judgment echoed, but it sounded so far that Salem couldn’t register it clearly. “Fuck me…” She panted. “Fuck me, daddy.”

Hearing her call him that made him feral. “You want to be a good girl and let daddy have his way with you?” The tip of his cock slid up and down between her folds, making her shudder. Her weakened pleas for more were music to his ears.

Pushing into her, he put one of his hands on the back of her neck to keep her in place. She whined and trembled, feeling trapped under his massive body but not wanting any means of escape. Caesar’s other hand was placed on her hip as he leaned forward. His entire body covered hers easily. Being tucked between his thighs, she was already stuffed to the brim with him—such a pretty little thing.

Salem could feel so much more of him in this position, causing her moans to become louder and needier. The room was spinning, the colors were swirling, it was all making the thrusts hit every inch of her physically and mentally.

Forceful movements against her g-spot caused a ripple effect, the psychedelic colors and patterns sharing the rhythmic beat. Desperately, she clawed at the floor, creating streaks of paint on the tiles.

So helpless to the pleasure he was giving her, he groaned at the sight underneath him. “Not trying to escape from daddy, are you? Sweet girl…” His laughter twisted with sadism and bliss. As he got rougher, his grip on the back of her neck and hip got more controlling.

Her eyes rolled back and her breathing became labored. The paint smeared across her chest and face the faster his pacing got. Eyes fluttering, body shaking, moans dripping with saccharine: she couldn’t hold back any longer. Creaming on Caesar’s length with her sweet release, her pussy spasmed and clenched around him.

“Call me ‘daddy’ again, wanna hear you say it…” His grunts and faltering thrusts alluded to his approaching release. He needed that sweet voice of hers to give him what he wanted. “Tell me you belong to me.” There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

“I-I belong to you! Oh, daddy… I love you so much…” It just slipped out, but it felt so right.

He fell forward, shoving himself even deeper at the sound of her confession. Moaning her name on repeat, he cursed at the surge of release passing through him. Forcing her against him, he pumped every last bit of ecstasy into her womb. There was no care put into the consequences; any that reared their head would be taken care of. The selfish moment of pure and utter lust raptured them, leaving them in a panting and completely satisfied mess.

After catching his breath, he pulled out of her. A groan escaped him as his sperm ran down past her clit. He leaned back to get a better look at her. There was an ache in his heart that resurfaced when she confessed to him, but it was something he wasn’t entirely sure if he was ready to face.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up…” He sighed. There was affection in his tone, although the depth to it was well hidden.

---------------------

Freshly bathed and wrapped in a fluffy towel, Salem hurried out of the bathroom. Leaving Caesar to finish drying himself off. He huffed out of amusement, while her feet pitter-pattered across the tiles.

Wrapping his hair in a towel, he slowly followed her. Barely catching a glimpse before she tugged on a new dress, he at least got to watch her pulling up a clean pair of panties. The snap of the elastic sent a wave of pleasure in him. He couldn’t help smiling at her in appreciation, while she rushed out the door.

Not thinking too much of her erratic behavior, he took his time getting dressed. Humming to himself, the tune playing in his heart brought on that ache again—this time feeling much less frightening.

The light song carried him down the halls in search of her without even realizing it. A glow from below caught his eye. He couldn’t resist checking it out. If anything, catching one of his henchmen doing something they shouldn’t be doing would be the cherry on top to his birthday. However, the dark room with candles illuminating the void surrounding it was all that greeted him.

When he flipped the switch, the three he was working the closest with popped into view. Salem sprung up from behind the cake, Monet dropped from the ceiling, and Law lazily stood up from the flood. As the women cheered a jolly ‘Happy Birthday,” in unison, Law blew on his party whistle.

With Law taking a couple steps towards Salem, Caesar happily accepted the lengths they went to and quickly passed by Monet to plant himself firmly between Law and Salem. Physically being the wall between the two of them, Caesar wanted all the attention from her on him. It was his day after all.

“Did you make this yourself?” He grinned at her.

“I baked it but Monet did the decorating.” The pride Salem took in the team effort made the gesture that much more precious.

His grin widened at the both of them before calling over his shoulder. “And what did you contribute, Law?”

“Moral support.” Law blew on the cheap whistle again, getting some kind of kick out of seeing Caesar’s eye twitch.

Caesar tapped his finger on the counter. “How generous.”

“Maybe Salem and I can enjoy this cake while you two fight?” Monet’s gentle nudge for them to stop whatever feud they had worked.

Law rolled his eyes and moved to the front of the room, while Caesar crossed his arms and pouted a little.

“Aren’t you going to make a wish?” Salem’s voice drew his attention back to the celebration.

“Of course, I will.” Smiling at her, he placed his hands on either side of her. Caging her between him and the counter, he leaned over her side to blow out the flames. His wish was carried in the synthetic-scented smoke.

His eyes glanced up at Law, and narrowed at how he was staring at Salem. It made his stomach churn in a way he’d never experienced. Smirking to himself, he swiftly took her in his arms and planted a kiss on her lips that was burning with passion.

When he pulled away, he leaned on the counter feeling quite pleased with himself. “A memorable birthday to say the very least.” He flattered Salem as he took a swipe of the icing and sucked it off his finger. “Looks like next year has some big shoes to fill.” His chuckle filled the room, putting only the slightest bit of pressure on Salem’s shoulders.

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penvisions · 1 year ago

Text

of beskar and kyber {chapter 18}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) ; brief Force Sensitive! Reader and M!OC

Summary: There are restrictions for entering the main city, some of them Din could agree to and one he absolutely could not. His helmet would need to be left behind, but isn't removing it what caused this entire situation to begin with? Meanwhile, you wake to a new environment, cautious of the things around you and the words of your mother.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, we meet readers betrothed and he needs his own warning, reader's mother also gets her own warning, kidnapping, reader is being kept against her will, hostage situation, use of narcotics, use of drugs, sedatives, self-depreciating thoughts, thoughts of self-harm, ptsd symptoms, medical trauma, past medical trauma, feelings of inadequacy, sexual themes, sexual content (not detailed), there are a few more but they will spoil the chapter!

A/N: more din pov! because it's so much fun and there are some things y'all need to see through his eyes before some explanations are given c;

all of you were right to think din is gonna need a disguise! but i don't want anyone to think that the desert environment and the choice of clothing is ignorant on my part in light of what is going on in palestine. i've had this original arc planned before the first chapter was even published. here are some resources for aiding those that need help. i've also provided a link to the moodboard for this particular arc, which does include a visual for din's new attire

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Maker, your mother was really doing her best to keep you to herself. It was smart to warn the protection around you of him, to anticipate that he would make an attempt to take you back. But he loathed how much harder it was going to make even just getting into the city.

The weapons he could forgo, but his armor? She knew from her past experience with Akiz that it was a punishable offense for a Mandalorian to remove their helmet. And it was frustrating that she was using his religion, his Creed, his culture, his way of life to keep him at bay and to keep you under her control.

It was an injustice he couldn’t wrap his head around. It was just so conniving, and it was hard to believe how you had turned out so drastically different when being surrounded by someone capable of such extremes. He only hoped that your mother hadn’t done anything drastic to you, caused you to take matters into your own hands. He only hoped that you knew he had spent the last several weeks tearing through the galaxy in search for signs of what had happened to you. That he had rushed toward the planet you were taken to the second he had found it out.

Din needed you to know that he was trying, that he was searching for you, that he missed your presence by his side and aboard his ship. And not simply for the fact that you were a strong, capable fighter. But because the things he had whispered and promised you before he ruined it all were true. He did care for you. He had begun to care for you alarmingly fast after that first encounter.

And maybe it should’ve scared him, been a warning he heeded, the way his heart had lightened and opened up to you. Even despite the circumstances and the breaking of his contract with the Guild. He had been willing to change the circumstances, to do away with the contract he took on when his fingers closed around your offered tracking fob. Because it had felt right to do so, despite the inherent break of what he stood for in that moment. His willingness to do so, it only made him realize that this was real, because he had never felt like this with anyone before. Had never wanted to provide for anyone aside from those that made up his covert before. He had meant it when he had choked out those words back on Nevarro.

“I can’t wear that.” Din had been cautious as he looked out the cockpit viewpoint and down into the hangar space. The looming racetrack just beyond it, offset from the main city. Crowds and clusters of people swathed in billowing layers and a severe lack of weaponry was a worrisome observation. Upon her return from the markets, offset from the other side of the city, Cara had held out a bundle of clothing to him.

“I did enough recon to know the guards are the only people permitted into the palace without verification. That Sarad’s always surrounded by at least two of them when outside of the palace, though her mother never joins her outside the walls.”

“Because she knows I’d kill her on sight.” Din can’t help the growl of his words, knowing the truth behind them was all too real. Because he would, without hesitation, take out the threat that had presented itself after lying in wait. Striking at the most opportune moment even months after having first contracted your return to her when it seemed like it was fruitless.

“This the only way you’ll get close enough to her, by blending in.” Cara shimmied the bundle at him, wanting him to take it from her despite his trepidation.

“My face will be exposed.” He argued as he stepped away from her. His mind and thoughts at war with the notion of having to remove his armor and the one of doing it in order to save you. He picked up a grumbling ad’ika from where he had been settled in his pod. Taking a pack of dried jerky from the pouch attached to his belt and handed it to him. Happy coos filled the hull of the ship, Din helping to reach into the pouch for each piece the child devoured.

“They wear head coverings and cover their faces. More than a third of the people I saw. Both men and women. I know it’s not ideal, Din,” Cara risked using the man’s real name. Wanting him to hear her and believe that this was the best way, the only way to move about with having to worry about being stopped or appearing suspicious. Hoping to convince him it was the best scenario to avoid showing his whole face should he have to forgo his helmet. She didn’t seem too keen on having to don similar clothing that left little room to conceal a weapon. “Some have mesh over their eyes.”

Din reached out, taking the outfit from her. He would try it on, get a sense of how he felt in the clothing before making his decision. He had half a mind to fly the ship directly into the palace grounds and open fire until you were safely back in his arms. But realistically he knew that was a terrible plan. The man who you had been promised to was entrenched in the New Republic, someone of high standing and to attack him would bring on a whole new level of concerns into his life, into your life.

Setting ad’ika back down into the pod, Din tucked your cloak around him before making his way to the room.

What use was all his armor and weapons if he couldn’t keep you safe? The thought was sharp in his mind as he set about removing each plate, the clasps snapping in the silence of the ship. He stored them in a crate he had brought from his own ship. In it was the pair of pauldrons you had left behind. The armor settled together tugged at his heart, making his chest tights as he wished for you nestled beside him in his bed much like the beskar in the crate. Closing it and setting a lock on it, he already missed the feel of his vambraces, of the weapons hidden over his frame.

Despite being alone, he kept the cowl about his neck in place. The necklace of his people hidden beneath it and he wondered where the one he had gifted you ended up. The ship foreign to him, giving him pause in removing it as he looked over the robes Cara had collected for him. They were all black. Made of a light, flowing material that would cover his entire body. And he began to pull the wide legged pants over his legs.

The top was less a shirt and more of a tunic, cut shorter in the front to fall just below his waist. It offered coverage of his crotch, while the length billowed out down to his knees on either side. He wondered if he should chance donning the chainmail he had retrieved from your home on Tatooine underneath it. He felt exposed, too vulnerable even as he set about fastening the brown leather harness to cross over his chest from his shoulders and the belt that had an empty pouch fastened to it on his left.

Two arm braces made of bronze had been folded up in the clothing, and he slid those over his forearms, grateful for at least something similar.

Thankfully Cara had been able to find something that would allow him to cover his face- mostly. His eyes would be exposed, and he wouldn’t be entirely comfortable forgoing a visor or something similar to hide them behind.

But he set about containing his trimmed curls underneath the cover, wrapping it around twice before securing it with a black leather tie around his forehead, letting the rest of the fabric fall over the back of his neck and shoulders. The smaller black kerchief was secured over the cowl, adding another layer to hide his identity from the world, fastened behind his head and tucked into the leather keeping the head cover in place.

It would be harder for him to track you, to pick up on threats without the settings of the helmet, but he knew that it would immediately warrant attention. He had to leave it behind, depart from the ship without it. It was the only way he would be able to do his own reconnaissance.

Sighing, he turned to face the mirror set into the wall beside the door.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He was swathed in flowing black from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. His boots no longer weighed down with a hidden blade or the ring of bullet casings for his pulse rifle.

Sharp brown eyes set under thick, dark brows the only visible part.

Still far too much to be seen. To be witnessed so easily by those around him. By you.

Worry spiked in him, you wouldn’t know it was him. At least, not at first glance. He hoped you would feel a pull to him similar to the one he felt when around you. A comfort in the closeness of your body and presence. A familiarity and sense of connection, the things you had found in each other allowing you to recognize that it was him beneath the different clothing, what was always beneath the armor and helmet.

Self-consciousness, he realized, was the feeling making his stomach flutter and his nerves jittery. He hadn’t been outside of the ship and around people without his armor since he had been inducted into the training corps. He hadn’t been without his helmet since swearing the Creed. The thought of this breeching such a commitment crosses his mind. And while…yes, he had removed his helmet, his face was still concealed.

It was much like the unspoken loophole of removing it in the cover of darkness. The intention of which would have allowed him to give into your pleas for his lips on yours. That he had wanted to do, despite the skimming of lines that should not be crossed. The lines that defined his Creed.

He looked…like one of the natives of the planet. And that was the only consolation he could find in the need for the outfit.

They’re merely walking through the marketplace, when they see you among the stalls. Din’s instincts urging him to turn onto the street.

You’re right there.

You’re real.

You’re okay.

His heart skips a beat and then quickens, nearly vibrating it’s so fast a pitch. His breath stolen from his lungs as he sees you moving among the crowds. You…you’re so beautiful and luck seems to be on his side as you look unharmed. You seem to be at ease, moving from stall to stall with a pair of guards trailing behind you by a few yards. Black flowing robes much like his own, but the rapier style swords fastened to their sides acted as a silent threat. Weapons in the main part of the city were forbidden.

But you…you were so magnetizing, and Din’s feet were carrying him toward the stall you had stopped in front of. Distantly, he heard the hush of Cara warning him to be cautious. But it was as if the world had shrunk down to just you, his eyes tracking you as if you would vanish should he look away for the barest of seconds.

The fabric of your rather elegant dress a mix of soft white and pale cream. It highlighted the natural golden hue of your skin, though the only part visible was the length of your neck down to your chest with a rather low neckline. The supple skin of your breasts was accented by sparkling golden beading along the collar, creating a dip between them where it was concentrated. The bodice of the dress was cinched by an intricate belt made up of diamond jewels set into gold that created a floral shape right over your stomach before the skirt of the dress billowed out in flowing layers.

The sleeves were long, bishop in style, allowing for the fabric to be loose before cinching around your wrists. Allowing for you strong, capable hands to be exposed. Golden designs of lace woven into the fabric of them and the front of you below where the belt rested on your front. You were sparkling, from the bangles around your wrists to the delicate headpiece that kept your hair away from your face. He could see it as you moved about to take in the fruits of the stall, the way that thin netting was laid over the length of your hair, stones glittering in the sun as you did so. You were a vision bathed in white and gold, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you after so long apart.

But you didn’t look to be a captive, aside from the guards keeping close. No, you looked like you were free of worries, complicit in the life you had been stolen away to be a part of. It was as if this was just another day to run errands and take in the sights of the city, no undertones of eyes glancing around to look for an escape. No tension in your muscles as if poised to run at the first chance. And alarm bells sounded in Din’s mind, loud and harsh. Stirring unease in his middle, bubbling up to tighten in his chest.

He couldn’t help but approach you, even if he had no clue what words to breathe should he be able to find his voice. Even if he had no clue how you would react to seeing him after the emotional fallout from so many days ago. But when you turned to him with a smile, lips closed and eyes kind, they only flitted over his face before they moved down along his body toward where ad’ika had popped his head and chest over the top of the bag slung over his shoulder.

He certainly hadn’t expected you to recognize him, he was without his armor. And though you knew the shape of his body and the way it reacted to your touch; you didn’t know him as he stood beside you now. In flowing black robes and brown leather, a head cover secure over his curls and a flowing material hiding his face aside from his eyes. He realized you wouldn’t be able to recognize them, having never seen the brown of them before. And he greedily drunk in the sight of you without his helmet, delighting in the way the sun lit up the features he had come to admire.

But your attention wasn’t even on him, it was on the small form that had reached out for the bundle of berries in your grip. Plucking one and popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum. But there was no recognition that flickered over your face upon seeing ad’ika either. It was as if you were seeing him for the first time, a polite curiosity in your gaze. And Din’s gut lurched.

It hadn’t been long enough for you to forget the child, forget him. Forget the life the three of you had carved out from circumstance. Unless you were playing along to not alert the guards of being reunited, not wanting them to suspect anything was amiss. But…but Din didn’t think you were pretending. There had been no fast glance back to him upon seeing the child crop up, there had been no hitch of your breath as realization of him standing beside you set in.

It was as if you didn’t know him at all, know the small form of the child holding your adoring attention.

“Well, hello there, little one.” Your voice was so smooth and calming, like silk against his ears after having not heard it in so many days. He watched as you tilted the bowl closer, making it easier for a tiny green claw to retrieve another berry. A laugh bubbled from you as the child smacked on the fruit, happy sounds flowing from him unbidden.

And then, with a simple question, Din’s heart shattered.

“He’s rather cute, is this your child?”

You had focused your attention back up to him, though you avoided his eyes again. Something he was beginning to think was just a part of every version of you. Because the one standing in front of him was not his own. It couldn’t be.

Words, so many of them, burst to life and died on his tongue in the silence between you two. None of them making it past his lips, his voice lost in injustice of finally being reunited with you and you having no clue as to who he was. Of how much you had been through together, the promises you had whispered to each other, the soft sighs of waking up together, the harsh grunts and desperate whimpers shared between yearning bodies. You had no clue what you meant to him. The only thing he was certain of, was that he was a stranger to you.

Clearing his throat, he managed to utter an affirmative to your gentle question.

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.”

And he wanted to tell you that you allowed for him to be so, for the child to have the protection of your skills and caring heart to be just a child after being held a captive for so long. That he had stolen him away from those who wished him harm with your aid. But suddenly, you were being approached by the vendor, your attention splitting from them both beside you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- oh, Princess Cala. I’m so sorry.” Strict words and steal façade falling as the man approaching realized who you were. Princess. Because that’s what you were, had been swiped from him to be another’s wife. All memories of your commitment to him forgotten in a cruel twist of fate that Din was determined to get to the bottom of. To rectify. Though he had no clue how to even begin such a daunting task as he was still struggling to accept that it was so. “I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish. I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” You appeased gently, hands digging into a small pouch hidden among the layers of your dress. Credits clinked as you set them down atop the table, the jingling of your bracelets catching ad’ika’s attention and he reached for them. “It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.”

As the vendor turned back to duck inside, away from the bright sun and the watching eyes of the guards, it happened.

Ad’ika’s skin connected with your own and you were buckling at the sudden energy that Din could feel flow between you both. Ripples of is cascading through the air. Body overwhelmed and knees weakening at the onslaught as a strangled gasp fell from your lips. Just as you had done back at the compound, history repeating itself in a way he hadn’t expected. He was quick to close the distance, to wrap his arms around you and hold you up. You allowed him to pull you close, your chest flush with his as heaving breaths matched his stuttering ones.

His body igniting at the feel of you against him once again. Of the way your hands gripped his arms to support yourself. The prick of your fingers digging into his muscles and the way your mouth had fallen open in surprise. It was all so normal, the reactions of your body against his. Natural, the magnetism between your bodies making everything feel alright even if it was just for the barest second.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” Voice low, he felt it robbed from him when your lashes fluttered, and your eyes met for the first time. They glinted with something and then –

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her!” Twin forms of the guards watching over you were suddenly closing in. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to not take all your weight securely into his arms and run. Hush of swords being pulled from their sheaths had you tearing your eyes away from him, had you shifting your footing to hold yourself up a little better though you didn’t let go of him. And he was grateful for the prolonged seconds of getting to feel you in his arms.

“It’s alright!” You assured the guards, halting them in their steps with a polite smile. “I just tripped is all!”

Loosening the hold he had on you, his hands remained steady as you stepped back from him to stand on your own once again. He was aware of the hard looks aimed at him, as distance bloomed between your bodies.

Endlessly considerate and caring toward the ad’ika, even if you didn’t know it, you carefully handed the bushel of berries into his small claws.

You were bidding him goodbye with an impersonal bow. And he wished to feel the unspoken greeting and departing habit of your forehead nudged against his own you two had established over the course of your time together.

He fell in line behind them, a safe distance away to not attract their attention or suspicions. His focus so completely on you, the captivation you held over him even now, especially now, spelling his feet forward through the last of the market and through the streets. He was silent as Cara fell into step beside him, questions flowing from her that fell on his straining ears. You were talking with the guards, though it seemed like you were merely confirming the rest of the plans for the day.

And they would know, they would be by your side every time you left the palace, he mused as he watched your trio wait outside of the large wooden doors that led into the place you now called home. It was surrounded by a large, easily fifteen-foot wall made up of decorative tiles and white stone. He caught a glimpse of large gardens, complete with bright blue ponds and lush plant life making a beautiful backdrop to your form. But his eyes snapped back to you, taking notice of how the guards had begun to walk away and toward a small building that must act as their command center. They were replaced by two young women, dressed in long pale blue layers that followed your every step.

As you began to move along the paths lined throughout the garden, a figure approached you. And the tension Din had been worried to not see in your shoulders seemed to slam into you. The figure moved from beneath the shade of a large palm, having been waiting on a bench. It was a woman, one who bore a strong resemblance to you from tone of skin to the color of your eyes. Your mother.

Arms were slung together and Din could see even with the distance how her touch made you uncomfortable. And it was all so confusing. You remembered your mother, memories of her intact but you had somehow forgotten who he was, who ad’ika was. Forgotten who you were enough to not make an attempt to escape, submitting yourself to the life your mother had created for you.

And then, a man in elaborate robes adorned with jewels and lace designs much like your own approached you both. He was dressed in colors that complimented your own clothing. His own jewelry fastened over his head cover much like yours, though decidedly heavier, more masculine to the dainty feminine of yours. Matching.

A hand came over his shoulder as he realized he was breathing harshly, no helmet to disguise the deep push and pull of it as he watched you disentangle from your mother and step into the man’s personal space. The front of your bodies touching together as his hands splayed wide on your shoulders, as your own wrapped around his neck. As you perked up to press your forehead to his, in the way that was Din’s.

His chest hurt, his hands clenched, body alight with the need to rush forward and tear the two of you apart from each other. His ears hurt with the silence pressing against them too firm to shake. To press his own forehead against your own and plead with you to see him, to remember him. Remember what you meant to each other.

It was a small blessing of the Maker that your back was to him, because he didn’t think he would be able to take the way your gaze had softened as you looked into the eyes of the man holding you. The same one he would find aimed at him throughout the day, mirth in your eyes as your lips pulled into a soft smile. Adoration and admiration soothing the concentrated look you normally held. Not when the man looking back at you held the same exact expression.

The one always hidden behind his visor.

The same face that was now hardened in a flurry of emotions, his jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding, and eyes ablaze as he watched the man dip his face and press his lips to yours in a kiss.

A kiss.

The very thing that had unraveled the entire life you two had created out of circumstance and connection, the very thing you now shared with another.

Your easy laughter was what brought his senses back, though it was cut off from him as quickly as it had been delivered as you began to walk hand in hand with the man down the path leading to the palace entrance.

Din’s mind was working, working, working. Trying to figure it out, trying to come up it a way to figure it out. To rectify it. To make it right. To make everything right.

And as if a chip was falling into place, he realized. They could fall into line as a guard and a handmaiden.

It was so obvious, so easy, the plan coming together in his mind as the wooden doors swung shut and stole you away from his watching gaze.

“Mando…” Cara’s voice was gentle, as if she was worried she would startle him. Spur him into movement toward you, tackling the obstacles that stood between you both despite the consequences. “I don’t know exactly what-“

“We’ll talk back at the ship.” His words were rough, voice rumbling as if he had just swallowed gravel. It felt thick in his throat, coating his tongue and making it hard to speak.

“It’s customary for visitors to stay in the tourism sector.”

“I’m…low on credits.” He admitted, aware that his words were carried on deep exhales, air hard and solid when breathed in. Aching, hurting, stinging in his throat as he closed his eyes to rid himself of the image of you embraced so intimately with that man, with your husband. But the image was burned into the backs of his eyelids, pressing on him even as he clenched them shut.

“Good thing I’m not. Let’s go, I have a feeling you’re going to tell me this isn’t going to be as simple as sneaking in at night and whisking her away.”

Din followed the woman’s lead through the city, through the gates and toward the collection of tourism amenities. The sounds of the ocean waves getting louder the further they moved away from the palace.

The suite was grand, decorated lavishly in soft earth tones. Bright jewel tones accenting it all around.

But Din’s eyes were unfocused, unseeing as they stared down at the carpet, his head in his hands as he sat rigidly on the couch. With a deep breath pulled in and then let out, he deflated. Chest tight like he was being retrained with ropes, his limbs tingling as if the blood was having trouble flowing through them. His nerves felt both numb and overwhelmed all at the same time.

Cara just paced around the room, searching for potential bugs while she ensured ad’ika was settled in a chair with the fruit you had bought for them in a bowl for him to occupy himself. Din’s voice returned to him when he felt the couch shift with her weight on the other side.

“She doesn’t know who I am.”

“I wouldn’t recognize you, Mando, it’s just the clothes. I’m sure she was just pretending to be clueless to avoid suspicion. She saw ad’ika and even got him those berries.”

“No. Cara.” He surged up, feeling the need to move. To be on his feet, his mind hurling endless self-depreciating thoughts. This was all his fault, you were in the arms of another man because of him, your mother had been able to snatch you away because of his carelessness. His lack of speed when chasing after you, his lack of ability to have tracked you down and bring you back to the Crest as quickly as possible. He had failed you, he had failed you beyond comprehension and you didn’t even remember it.

He meant nothing to you, he was a stranger to you. While you willingly lived alongside that man who had every intention of letting you know how much he wanted you, desired you, who kriffing kissed you.

Aware of her eyes on him, Din paced back and forth in front of the couch. Feeling the need to move, to run, to chase, to track, to fix. She was watching him, a conflicted look about her features as she thought over the things they witnessed. The blatant issues that they had to move around in order to get to you.

Maker, what if…what if you shared the man’s bed. That would add another layer of complication to breaking you free of your imprisonment. Was it even imprisonment anymore? Did it qualify if you didn’t know the people who surrounded you were the ones who had manipulated you so completely, so intricately that they had somehow wiped your memory and fed you a story of what they wanted their lives to be in order to make it a reality?

Even if he could manage to convince you that you weren’t meant to be a dank ferrick princess in a palace, how would he prove to you that you were meant to be with him? His ship was old, needed repairs too often, his way of life, it all paled in comparison to the residence you had now, the quality of life you had now. How was he supposed to make you understand that he cared about you and that you cared about him if you didn’t know who he was?

Your mother certainly knew what she was doing. From the wiping of your memory to make it harder for him to convince you that your life was a sham, a lie, a false thing made up by those around you to the warning posters of him plastered around the city. The version of you he knew was wary of strangers and he would bet everything in his name that you still held that reservation. That anything he or Cara had to say wouldn’t be taken lightly, most likely result in their immediate order of removal should you find them guilty of trying to manipulate you.

“She doesn’t remember me. Or ad’ika. Her mother must’ve done something to her. There was no recognition in her eyes.” Heart thudding hard in his aching chest, Din couldn’t stop the sob that wracked through him. “I’m nothing to her.”

Darkness and the pull of the cold feeling drumming through your veins lightening ever so slightly as you begin to rouse, body limp and not heeding your commands to move. Alone. You’re alone. Metal clinking and heavy around your wrists and ankles. Around your neck.

You’re shackled, restrained, drugged.

Like so many times before, like you had never wanted to be again.

It’s quiet, unnervingly so.

Opening your eyes doesn’t allow you more of the setting you’re in, only darkness of the room you’re hidden away in. Gravity lurches and you know, can sense it: that you’re aboard a ship that has just taken off into the air. Traveling and distance growing, taking you away from them. From him.

Had he even realized you were gone? That you had been seeking solace, a way to return to him without shame prickling your skin and guilt flooding you, body tight and mind remorseful.

Everything was a haze. Everything jumbled up into a messy recollection. The pleasure that had been igniting you, the feel of his fingers deep and hitting that spot just right, building you up and tearing down your inhibitions. Enough so that you had pleaded with him for the one thing you knew he wouldn’t give you. And then it was gone, shifting to rejection. The blank, emotionless helmet shielding the way he must’ve been so repulsed by your question, your desperation to have more of him when he had already given you so much. Needy, selfish, you had been so wrapped up in him that you had offended him beyond words. Warped the path you two had been traveling together, guiding him without realizing it, off the distinguished trail and into the unknown. To the forbidden. Toward sin.

You had tried to convince him to break his Creed.

Heart heavy and mind trying to piece everything back together, you convulsed. Shocks ripping through you at the sudden movement.

Whimpering, you felt it was more than deserved. This punishment, being forced to submit once again at the hands of your mother. All of it was because of the temptation you had dared to whisper to a man so devoted. He would’ve lost everything had he followed you into it. From the very identity of himself to the new standing of a clan he had just been granted. All gone.

And for what? A measly kiss with someone who didn’t even know how to want without asking for too much. A shared mingling of breath and teeth and tongue with someone who should’ve been long dead for their own sins.

Brightness burst into the room, assaulting your senses as footsteps shuffled close.

The prick of a needle sharp, the swoop of your nerves being calmed and then raised to tingling heights.

A gentle caress of a hand on your cheek and the last thought you had before you were pulled back into the darkness heart more than anything your mother could do to you:

He hadn’t come after you. He had let you walk away.

We can’t…I-I don’t...

Through the hull and off the ship, let you slip into the crowd where he hoped you would disappear from his sight. Vanish from his life and taking the sins you had tempted him with.

Compliant. You would be compliant this time around. Now knowing that there was nothing else for you, the entire galaxy making a mockery of your attempt at finding a life other than this. The blood of so many on your hands and cleaned off the hilt of your saber, the reason as to why you didn’t deserve happiness or comfortability. That you hadn’t deserved him.

And it hurt. More than the throbbing high spurred on by the drugs in your system. More than the memories of everything you had ever known being ripped from your desperate hands, not once but twice. The thought of him simply sat on that cot still, slowly dressing, gathering the things you had left behind and shoving them in a crate to never be opened again, hurt. The thought of him climbing toward the cockpit and bringing the ship to life, of guiding it up into the air and leaving the planet behind, leaving you behind, hurt. It was devastating.

Because you knew, you know he would’ve come to your aid if he had known what had happened. That you had been on your way back to the ship with an apology on your tongue when you had been ambushed. You know he would’ve protected you, even if he didn’t want you. Out of some sort of personal obligation, out of the empty commitment he had made to you that now felt like a ploy to get you into his bed.

He had known your past, seen the evidence of it in your words and nightmares. He had known to how use it to his advantage, to whisper sweet nothings and notions of care beyond what you could provide him with your body to get exactly that. He had known to not pressure you, to let you come to him and he would get what he wanted all along. The same as every man, only seeing you as a body to warm your bed.

But…he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

He had said it first, as he bled out on that dirty cantina floor as the building crumbled around you both.

Anything spoken by a man of few words had to mean something. Had to be genuine. Had to be real.

And that hurt far worse, that he cared and had still let you walk away. Disappear into the crowd of the planet, only to be taken hostage and away from him. That he had let it happen.

The confusing and painful thoughts circling around in your sluggish mind were cut short, turned to smoke that wafted away when the metallic clang of what had to the locking mechanism on the door to where you were being kept. Artificial light filtered into the room, blinding you as your eyes tried to adjust to the sudden shift from near blinding darkness. A soft voice was speaking to you, thought you couldn’t make out the words. Brain scrambled and too loaded up to understand.

It was astonishing, really, even through the haze, that your mother’s hands were gentle on you despite the things she subjected you to. Comforting caresses and fingers moving your hair and clothing in ways to avoid pinching or pain as she removed the shackles and began to untangle you from the chains that had wrapped around you. It felt like a loss, to no longer have them pressing into your skin, no longer holding you up as your head rolled on hard to hold up neck.

“Oh oh oh, it’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got you.” Your mother’s voice was syrupy sweet, coating you in its allure. The only thing you truly knew was real in this moment of time. Her hands helped you up on weak legs, arms going around your waist to hold you to her, support most of your weight. “We’re home, my darling. I think it’s gonna treat us well, this time around.”

Confusion colored your senses and prompted a warbled sound to fall from your lips as she led you to the fresher. She helped to disrobe you, carefully peeling the clothing from your scuffed and sweaty skin. The weight of your hair being let loose from its braided updo stirred the beginnings of a headache. Trying to establish itself even in the presence of the drugs thrumming through your veins.

She washed you free of the sweat and grime that had built up on your skin in the time it had taken to guide your sluggish and unaware form onto a ship for travel.

Hands that didn’t feel like her own filled your senses. Larger than hers, rougher than hers, more intentional than hers. The feeling being washed away along with the suds and bubbles down the drain as you felt the prick of something in your neck and everything became fuzzy.

Things slowly returned to you as you felt the hum weighted over you lighten. Gravity shifted and a feeling of foreboding bubbled up in your stomach, prickling the instincts compressed inside your mind until they could do nothing but trigger ever so slightly. The hush of the door opening had you shifting atop the bedding, looking toward it to see the shadow of your mother approaching you with a cloak.

But it wasn’t yours, because the one you had been gifted, the one with the beautiful floral clasps to keep it closed, had been left behind in your haste. Haste to run from the feelings of inadequacy and heartbreak that threatened to overwhelm you even if you couldn’t piece together the specifics. Too overcome with the things your mother pressed into your veins to have you sluggish and heeding her commands.

The flash of a shiny reflection of sunlight against the metal of a sword stirred something in you as you walked alongside her. She was supporting most of your weight, guiding you along down the ramp of the ship and you paused at the sight before you. Blinking, ensuring that the image wouldn’t melt away and that it was real, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

A garden. Lush and green, was stretched out before a grand palace of white and sandy stone. Pillars and domes accent the different parts of grand sight. It was magnificent and entirely too complicated for you to be able to find a way to escape once within the walls. Guards cloaked in black were stationed at the main entrance and along entryways within the halls. Women in rich jewel tones scattered about the palace as your mother guided you through it, being led herself by a man who held an air of authority about himself.

Your heart beating fast, dizzyingly fast and your breath becomes labored, pitchy. It garners the attention of your mother, the shift from quiet to increasing panic as your led further into the maze of halls and buildings. She holds the control to the shackles about your wrists and ankles in her hand, waving it at you to quell the twitching of your muscles as you tried to resist running, of harnessing the Force to send everyone around you flying through the wide hallway. The silent threat of the electricity sparking through your synapses paired with the way the world didn’t feel quite right, everything off kilter and slightly blurry, fuzzy all around you had you obeying her without a word.

She commanded the people around you both as you were ushered through a door into a sterile room, medical equipment and first aid supplies collected in a large cabinet. The medical center, you guessed through the haze and worry spiked through you. What was she going to have them do to you?

With soft words, she urged you to lay down atop one of the cots. Smoothing your hair away from your face with gentle hands as the prick of a needle startled you. An attendant, a man dressed in dark red billowing layers, had stuck you with a syringe.

Before you could form your lips around a question, a plea, the edges of your vision blurred. Within seconds, the room was spinning and your eyes fluttered shut. The last thing you thought of before being pulled under the influence of the sedative was a plea for Din and ad’ika to be safe, wherever they may be.

“Alright,” Your mother chirped once you had fallen unconscious. The man in red regarded her with a blank expression, knowing that he was here for one reason and one reason only. Being paid generously for the use of his skills and the machinery that he possessed. He was one of the few who had been sought out by the New Republic to recalibrate and repurpose something used by the Empire that would prove useful for them as well.

Rumors of such a machine were whispered across the galaxy, most believing them to have been destroyed. But they would be wrong, they were very prevalent in the reformation and reintroduction of the Empire’s countless forces back into the general population. To break the spell of indoctrination imposed on them with low force electric vibrations. The Six-O-Two Mitigator, otherwise known as a Mind Flayer. Curtesy of the royal families firm standing within the New Republic and their generous donations to help fund their endeavors.

“Is it ready?”

“Yes, it’s been calibrated to perform at a higher voltage to achieve what you’ve requested.” He spoke as he watched two attending medics wheel the cot you were laid upon toward the doorway that lead into another room. He followed them, with a wave of his arm to allow for your mother to proceed him. She did so with a dip of her head.

“I’m sure you know how to oblige what is being requested of you. From me and from the Prince. We will settle for nothing less.”

“I do, you want me to target the memory glands.”

“Yes, eradicate anything that sparks in response to the Mandalorians and the Jedi. Warp them if you have to.”

“I will do my best, it may take multiple sessions.”

“That’s quite alright, we are here now. We have the time.”

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

And your head was pounding, a dull pain throbbing at your crown and moving down, down, down to coat your entire body. Groaning, you realized you were laying in a large, plush bed. Pillows and soft blankets surrounding you, having allowed you the comfort to sleep deeply. Deep enough that you couldn’t recall the location of where you were.

The room is beautiful, all pale, soft tones that match the way you had always wanted to decorate your own home one day. But it was a lost thought, something that would never come to fruition. A personal home that you would never have, a home that you would never share, because the people that you love no longer exist to you, faded into blips you can’t recall. But there was one shadow that you could sense in the back of your mind. And it was making you worry about the way you couldn’t fill it. The underlying feeling of something wrong settling low in your gut.

The room is completely foreign as is the scene of a desert city surrounded by large, formidable walls of stone. You now stood on the balcony, having crossed the spacious interior decorated with tapestries and thin beaded curtains to take a look outside. Your body protested the movements, sluggish to respond to your need to figure out where you were.

The door creaked open, a pair of young women with a tray froze as they say you out on the balcony.

And then, a familiar figure shouldered past them with a wide smile.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my sweetheart, how are you feeling?” She was across the room, her arm over your shoulder as she guided you to take a seat in one of two chairs that surrounded a small, low table. Across from them, on the other side, a long, curved couch that looked to be velvet stretched out.

“I feel okay, I’m just a little confused. When did we move….here?” You felt like something was missing still, aside from the curiosity of the foreign environment. You were looking around the room, trying to nudge that vague shadow of whatever it was into a more concrete form. And then it did, the shadow took the form of a man and your heart skipped a beat. “Is he okay?”

“Who, honey?”

“Um…the man I’ve been traveling with. He- he was injured, his…his head!” You felt panic ripple over you, very real and so overwhelming. You had been traveling with someone, that much you knew. But the name, the specifics of him weren’t coming to you. But it felt so real, the phantom feel of the man who you had been with, you carried him with you, and you needed to know if he was okay.

“Honey, he wasn’t the one that fell. You were.”

“Where is he?” Her words didn’t shake the panic settling into your bones. A memory of kneeling in front of an injured man, cradling his face in your hands as he lay before you flashed in your mind’s eye. The feeling of heat washing over you, as if trying to consume you.

“He’s a very busy man, he was going to visit this afternoon.” You mother tried to console you, moving to sit on the arm of your chair and reaching out to cusp a hand over your shoulder.

“I need to see him now!” You stood, anger spiking. Lungs aching for air, for the vision of the man whose touch was ghosting over your skin, whispers of promises and comfort filling your ears. All coming back as the shadow in your mind grew larger and larger, taking space and becoming all consuming,

“Alright, honey, hold-“ She caught your hand as you walked past her, set on searching for him. Needing to see him, to ensure that he was okay. The feeling of warm blood thick on your hands.

“That’s quite alright, Lena.” A deep voice spoke from the open doorway and you felt your knees buckle as you looked over toward it. The tall figure of a broad man was standing there, dressed in orange and gold. He had dark, thick hair on the top of his head and decorating his face. He looked healthy and relief replaced the panic. The feeling of comfort at his few words urging you back up from where you had reached out for the couch. Memories of laughter and teasing, of time spent together coming back to you as if he had brought them into the room with him. “I had a spare moment today, is everything okay here?”

“I-I just…I needed to make sure you were okay.” The words left you in a shaky breath. His image filled the form of the shadow, pushing you toward him. He opened his arms and you moved into them, lifting up on your tip toes to press your forehead to his own and everything whirling around in your mind calmed.

“My heart, are you alright?” His breath fanned over your face and your eyes focused on his lips. Waiting for an answer to flow from them. For all the memories that had flooded back when you first looked at him, you couldn’t recall the feel of his lips on your own.

“I’ve got you, beautiful. Everything is going to be okay.”

Before the last word was uttered, you were surging up and pressing your lips to his.

Weeks go by, the days spent with your mother and the maidens assigned to look after you and ensure you had everything you needed. Prince Cala was accommodating, doting almost when he was free from the responsibilities that came with running a successful city. He was a prince, you learned. Set to inherit his royal standing of king and full control over the city once the marriage he had proposed to you in your murky past came to fruition. He was all soft, casual touches and kisses pressed to your temples. He hadn’t kissed you fully since that first day you had woken up and you could understand his hesitancy. You were still struggling with your memory, no exact recollection of your lives together.

Assurances spoke from both him and your mother that this was indeed your life, even if everything seemed so new and part of a routine you didn’t quite feel like you were a part of. You were…slightly uncomfortable in your mother’s presence, when alone. An almost fearful undertone as you watched her movements closely, feigning focused interest in the things she told you and shared with you to mask the way your eyes catalogued everything. There was a faint weight that pulled in your gut when she would touch you, her hands always gentle but it was as if… it was as if your body was waiting for the gentle to give way to something more sinister, more ill-intentioned.

You felt more at ease with the man who had filled the shadow in your mind, his presence calming and kind. You weren’t waiting for his touch to sour, though it didn’t spring forth any feelings of desire or yearning from you. A causal intimacy between you both. Slightly disjointed in the way that you had separate room when you could recall sleeping beside a warm body before your accident. In the way that he would press his forehead to yours in greeting each morning and departure each night, the warmth of his skin against yours feeling….wrong as you recalled a coolness in the memories of the practiced motion. In the way that your flowing gowns and light layers looked beautiful in every color provided to you helped to alleviate the heat of the planet but felt too…impractical when you could recall feeling different clothing against your skin, practical, durable.

But for all the things that felt slightly shifted, you also found familiarity.

The ever present heat and bright sunshine of the planet, so unlike your own world of K’ath and yet it was almost comforting in a way. The food you enjoyed at the words of your mother and fiancé to the kitchens to keep on hand. Fresh fruits, crispy vegetables, and warm bread slathered with salted butter fresh from the ovens. Plenty of soups served over rice and easy broths for you to sip from ornate china, never anything too heavy or slathered in rich sauces. Sweet treats in the form of artisan chocolate, decadent cakes with frosting covering them in intricate designs and an endless supply of fresh, strong caf.

But you took it all in stride, spending time in the gardens, memorizing the walkways that wound through them and around the cerulean ponds filled with colorful fish. Spending time in the library and reading through the history of the planet and the city. Spending time in the lush sunroom decorated with plush rugs, overstuffed seating, and a nice view of the grounds just beyond it. Spending time overlooking the beautiful sights of the city and the distant ocean from your balcony, unable to shake the feeling like you were supposed to be somewhere else.

You tried to ignore the guards hovering around you as you explored the streets of the market. You had earned the outing after your good behavior, showing restraint in the questions you had wanted to ask but didn’t want to repeat yet again the night before. Shaking those thoughts from your head, you reached up and adjusted the dainty crown atop your head. The beautiful netting sprinkled with jewels fanning the base of it cascading over your hair in quite a nice way and it would look beautiful if the piece weren’t a deadly threat. It was a little overkill, you thought. Even if you had been nothing but willing to play along to your mothers and husbands’ words despite feeling like something was wrong, missing, like this wasn’t your life. But they were all that you knew right now, the figure of your mother familiar from childhood and you heeded her words.

You were at a stall that had an array of colorful and fragrant fruits, the sweet perfume of them blending together too tempting for you to bypass without checking out. A creature of habit, your mother called you. A woman of expensive taste, teasingly aimed at you from your husband. They knew you

You paused to hold a bundle of sunset orange berries up to inspect. A small green hand with three fingers suddenly reached out for the bowl in your hand and you jumped only slightly at the sudden company you had as you perused the stalls offerings. You turned a cautious look over but a smile broke out on your face at the cute visage of a small, wonderous face peeking out from a canvas bag that seemed to be his safe space.

“Well, hello there, little one.” You lowered the bowl for the small creature to reach for a berry, the fruit stuffed into his mouth with a happy sound that had a laugh bubbling up from your chest unbidden. “He’s rather cute. Is this your child?”

You canted your attention up, at the broad man dressed in all black who was wearing the child’s bag over a shoulder. His clothing was nondescript, matching that of the priests who littered the town. Flowing cassock and wrap atop his head. His face was obscured, much like their own by black gauzy material draped from underneath it. His dark brown eyes were the only thing visible, and you smiled at him trying to come across as friendly. You didn’t want to anger anyone in town lest they had a connection to your new family.

The figure didn’t speak for a moment, seeming to take stock of you, gauging if you were a threat or not, something everyone seemed to be doing when interacting with you. A newcomer, an outsider, not one of the many tourists visiting the city for their own amusement, but someone brought in to be a part of the ruling family. Confirmation sounded through the fabric masking his face from you and you nodded to show you heard. “He is.”

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.” The child let out small coos, as if knowing he was being talked about. He reached for another berry but held it out to you this time. You shook your head lightly and another laugh bubbled up even as you felt the heavy gaze of his father on you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- Oh, Princess Cala, I’m so sorry. I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish, I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.” You smiled wide at him, hoping your behavior will be relayed back to your new family and they will lower their intensity. But you also genuinely appreciated this man, he treated you like a person while everyone else in the market kept a wide berth around you. Afraid of either you as a newcomer or the guards that tailed you, you hadn’t been able to work it out yet. You reached for the small pouch attached to your belt, the jingling of the bracelets on your wrists drawing the attention of the child.

You felt the tug of on them as you reached out to place a few credits for the bowl of berries on the stand, nodding your thanks as you turned to face the child again. He was gripping the bracelets tightly, his skin touching yours as he did so and a clash of emotions flooded you, causing you to gasp and your knees buckled. Before the guards could reach you, the tall man had stepped close and his arms were wrapped gently around your back, holding you to his chest to help steady you.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” His head was pitched so his voice was right beside your ear, and it sent a shiver through your body, the timbre of it so alluring. It was all you could hear though you were aware of the soft babbling of the child close to you and the harsh voices of the guards. You felt completely calm with him, like returning to your home after a long day. Comforted, safe, cared for. His touch was so familiar, the way he held you feeling like a faint memory though you had never met him in your life.

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her.” The guards closed in around you both, trapping you between their bodies and the stall.

“It’s alright! I just tripped is all!” You raised your voice even though it was rather hard to concentrate with the strong body pressed up against you and holding you. You felt the man loosen his hold and step away as you stood straighter. You weren’t quite sure what happened, but he had been quick to help you, even at the expense of drawing the guards’ attention. You smiled at him, something genuine. The feelings he had stirred in you were confusing but not unwelcome. You had no idea why. He was a stranger after all.

“We must return now, Princess Cala.”

When his touch retracted, the warmth that had blossomed in your chest and the quickening of your heart beating against the cage of your ribs didn’t wane.

You retrieved the bowl of berries and held a few out to the slightly dejected child, his large ears turned downward. “Here you go, little one. Make sure to share those with your papa, okay?”

Another glance roved over his face, a soft smile just for him, and you were bidding him a good day with a bow of your head. The urge to press your forehead against his strong, but you resisted, knowing that it felt too personal a thing for the stranger standing beside you. Your brow furrowed slightly, unsure of where the need to do so rose from. The comfortability and underlying feeling of complete and utter safety that the man stoked in you confusing you, he was a stranger, and yet it felt like there was a string wrapped around your heart that pulled taught and uncomfortable as you began to move away from him.

And with that you were turning and walking away from the stall, two guards leading you back to the palace and two behind you. You could feel the kind man’s brown eyes watching you as you did, daring to look over your shoulder to get one last look at him yourself.

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his even from the distance of the street and you felt the heat from his intimate touch and soft words encompass you completely. A dull pain throbbed in your temple, forcing you to turn away.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

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bitkahuna · 3 months ago

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“Why do you want Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup?”

Harry did everything he could to keep his body from freezing up. “Are you joking?”

“No.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s an important piece of history, worth quite a bit I’m willing to bet, and can you imagine the reward for whoever turns it in to Dumbledore?”

Blaise scoffed. “You can’t fool me so easily, Potter. You didn’t ask for no reason, so fucking tell me.”

“Didn’t I?”

“I’m not interested in your ideas about why others may want the cup. This isn’t a game, this is our families, our lives! Be fucking honest!”

Harry drew in a sharp breath as his back was slammed against the wall from Blaise pushing him. He froze, staring at the boy in shock.

Had he been treating this like a game?

Certainly, with his own friends, it was a matter of life and death. But with the Slytherins … he hadn’t entirely been treating them the same. But do they deserve it? For what happened to Bertha Jorkins, to the Crouch family, to Sirius and Remus, to the Longbottoms, to his own parents? Why shouldn’t he play with his food? Why shouldn’t he punish the children of Death Eaters?

Pansy cried on the Astronomy Tower.

They were children.

Was it his right to punish children for the crimes of their parents and grandparents? Was that justice? Legislation against lycanthropes punishes people like Remus, people who were victims of werewolves. Was he doing the same thing?

Can Slytherins be better? Do children always become their parents?

Then, the scariest thought of all; Harry didn’t want to be like his parents.

He didn’t want to have children during a war, he didn’t want to be a freedom fighter, he didn’t want to be part of some secret rebellion working under someone else. He didn’t want the betrayal, the deaths. But most of all, Harry Potter didn’t want to die.

Blaise saw the change in Harry’s face as his eyes flicked from him to his own hands, wondering just how big of a mistake he’d just made in pushing the other boy.

In that moment, he realized he had to be different from his parents. He couldn’t do as they did. Harry Potter had to choose the darker path.

His eyes hardened. The paranoia of the Death Eaters would make them sloppy and irrational. Harry knew this much. He really didn’t need them hitting too hard during the third task, anyway. So he needed to change their focus. But to do that, he needed Zabini just as paranoid and sloppy as the rest of them.

“It’s a Horcrux, Zabini.” He spoke in a voice that came steady and slow. Harry wasn’t afraid.

Blaise's eyes widened as the blood drained from his face, his expression shifting rapidly from confusion to shock, then settling into a deep frown of contemplation as he pulled his expression into something more manageable. His mind raced as he pieced together the implications of what Draco had done. For a moment, the room felt like it was closing in. "Are you certain?" Blaise asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” His fists clenched. He didn’t know what to do. That’s when Harry saw it dawn upon Blaise just how in-over-his-head he was. “Malfoy told you where a fucking Horcrux is!” Whatever he did would drastically tip the scales, but he was also stuck in a room with someone who cared very much about what Blaise would do. He wasn’t getting out of that broom closet without deciding.

Blaise swallowed hard, his mind racing as he weighed his options. To be caught in the middle of such colossal stakes was not what he had planned. He had danced along the edge, playing both sides in a game of self-preservation. But now, the game had changed; it was no longer just about survival but about choosing a side definitively.

Harry’s gaze locked with Blaise's in a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. "Now that you know, I can't just stand by."

The other boy held up his hands defensively, flinching back. “Don’t!”

Harry only tilted his head. “You think I would hurt you?” He seemed more curious than anything else, neither confirming nor denying if he would. Thoughts whirred in his head but one rang out the loudest. To push him to the edge. Push and push, and then pull him back from it. Make him scared, then take all the fear away.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice tense, “but I know you're desperate, and desperation leads to dangerous decisions.”

“I’m going to destroy the Horcrux, Zabini. Get over it.” He spoke firmly. “The problem is what you’re going to do now that you know.” He stepped forward. “You wanted the truth.” He reminded with another step, nearly cornering the boy and causing him to back away from both the door and his own wand. “Do you regret it?”

Blaise took deep breaths, his eyes darting for an escape that wasn’t there. It was obvious Harry was physically stronger than him, and he knew he couldn’t reach his wand before Harry could stop him. Making this a fight wasn’t in his best interest. He had to survive.

“You must understand, Potter, my position is complicated.”

Harry smirked slightly, the corners of his mouth turning in an expression that was more sad than amused. "Isn't it always with us?" He asked rhetorically. “You can’t leave without telling me what your plan is.”

The boy’s deep breaths were coming faster now. He was nothing more than a caged animal and he wanted out. A sort of fear Harry had never seen the boy wear crept onto his face. Blaise had never looked so torn apart.

There it was.

The edge.

“Of course, maybe if we found a way to use it, that could be different.” He spoke, backing off slightly. “The Death Eaters need a win, as you said. Something important enough to distract them from completely shafting me in the third task.” He mused. There was no way Harry was breaking into Gringotts. But if he could get them to move the cup in their paranoid state, it could be much easier.

“We need to tell them!” Blaise blurted out before a look of confusion and shock came about his face as his mind raced to make it make sense. “You should tel- no, wait.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You can’t be suggesting someone tell the Death Eaters what I know.”

-----

I know I already posted an excerpt today but I'm really proud of this shit

#dark harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #drarry #drarry fanfic #draco x harry #harry x draco #harry/draco #fanfiction #fanfic

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yellowjackets101 · 2 years ago

Text

Reverence- Natalie Scatorccio x reader

Part 1

Word count- around 2K

Warnings- NO SMUT (YET), maturating (brief), reader is an ass and slightly insane, fantasies, typical yellowjackets shit

You and Natalie were very different. You lived in a Mansion she lived in a trailer. You had more money than you could possibly need Natalie had so little money she couldn’t always afford food. You started playing soccer because it would look good on future college applications because face it you needed all the help you could get, Natalie played soccer as an escape from her shitty home life.

You were always spoilt from the day you were born you got everything you wanted so when you were 6 and some girl refused to share her toys with you because it was “the only one she had” you cut her hair. Snipped her ponytail off with a pair of scissors as your best friend mari giggled. The girl cried but nothing was ever done and the next day when she came into school with a bob cut and you laughed she knew that one day she would make you pay.

This type of bullying continued throughout school all until freshman year of high school when you both tried out for soccer team. Lots of things had changed over the summer you had a new look to match your attitude sporting designer clothes and bags and a body that made people drool. Nat had grown up to and as much as your hated to admit it she was hit her new look was still the least drastic change though which you realized when you walked into the changing rooms after you shower.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You shouted storming over to where Natalie sat smoking her cigarette letting the ash fall onto your hundred dollar jumper “smoking maybe you should try it calm you down abit” Nat quipped leaving you silent for a minute. Natalie had always been quite no matter what you did she only had two responses complete silence or tears but here she was smirking up at you as she continued to smoke her cigarette “that jumper costs more than everything you own put together get you greasy ass away from it” you shouted pointing your finger at nat as she stood up. “Fine whatever you say princess” Nat smirked taking a drag of her cigarette before blowing the smoke into your face and dropping the cigarette onto your jumper walking away as you screamed profanities after her. The next day you told the whole school nat was sleeping with Randy Walsh and when Randy didn’t deny it it became a fact and Nat went back to being her quite self as you teased her. Until a few days later

This became the cycle you make fun of Nat she snaps you do something horrid and she goes back to her quite self. Over the years you humiliated nat over and over whether it was deliberately fouling her at practice, hijacking her class presentations to include inappropriate pictures that almost got her expelled or just simple name calling.

Natalie hated you with all her being she hated you. You were the one who started all the rumors the one responsible for her being branded with the label of slut when she really wasn’t. Fuck Natalie had only ever been with one guy and it was after you had embarrassed her infront of the whole team her self confidence was lost and she tried to regain it through a pointless hookup with some stoner she met through her dealer and yet despite all the sweet praises it did nothing. Nothing could take away the pain you had caused except one thing. Natalie fantasized about it, she laid in bed at night fingers down her pants thinking about what she would do to you how she would choke you until you were unable to breath how she would show you no mercy as she pounded into you telling you everything she thought about you while you just begged for more.

That fantasy was how Natalie calmed herself down after you barged past her while getting onto Lottie’s dads jet knocking her to the ground as she looked up she got a good look at your pantries from under your tiny skirt. She looked away quickly and moved to her seat putting her headphones in and imagining how she would fuck you senseless all while you wore that pretty skirt.

Then the plane crashed

In the beginning you were in shock complete and utter shock misty took care of you bandaging up your neck. You had fallen while escaping the plane nearly impaling yourself on a metal pipe instead you sliced your neck open a large gaping wound that you couldn’t even feel due to your shock. You sat there with mari in silence for what felt like hours.

Natalie was glad. The plane had just crashed and her and her friends were stranded in the middle of nowhere and you left her alone she thanked the gods above for your closed mouth as she didn’t think she could deal with you in the middle of all this but her prayers were not answered.

A month or so after the crash you had still not seen your next. Misty changed your bandages in the meat shed away from everyone else. She had told you it had formed a scar but you didn’t want to believe it. Not until Misty told you you no longer needed the bandages you looked in the after taking them off and saw the big jagged scar that ran the from your jaw down your neck stoping just before it reached your breast. It was ugly big and red and you felt repulsed. You fell into a spiral of insecurity that you combated the only way you knew how. You wrapped a scarf that Lottie packed around your neck and never took it off all the while you began torturing Natalie. Lashing out over every minor thing the girl did. You knew you shouldn’t she was the one hunting your food and keeping you alive but you needed to do something to stop the deep pain you felt.

Time went by and your pain only grew mari became close with akilah a girl you barley new leaving you with no true friends except Laura lee but you knew that was only because the girl loves everyone well loved. Laura lees death hit you hard you struggled to accept that she was just gone and now you were completely alone. Lottie you noticed was feeling the same way so as a way of mutual preservation the two of you stuck together you replacing Laura lee as the person she spoke to about her visions and prophecy’s at first you thought she was crazy but you were lonely and scared and the idea of losing your only friend was enough for you to go along with what Lottie was saying but eventually you started to believe her after Laura lee you were the first person to whole heartedly believe Lottie was right that her visions were more than delusions and that she was special more than a human almost. When van tai Misty and mari went out looking for any sign of life on the island you sat with Lottie as she made a necklace for van and you one for mari.

When they came back you went into shock van had half of her face ripped off and the sight made you feel sick. You hid in the attic and sat alone until mari came walking upstairs looking equally as scared as you did. “She took it off” mark whispered so quite you could barley hear “what?” You asked leaning in “can she took off the necklace then she got eaten by a freacking wolf” mari said eyes wide as she looked at you “you saved me” she said holding her necklace in her hand “no Lottie did mari she’s not crazy she knows stuff she’s speaking to the wilderness” you said grabbing her hand and pulling her close “do you think she’s like some sort of witch” mari asked looking you dead in the eye “I don’t know what she is I just know that she’s something more”

Almost a week had passed since that night you mari and Lottie grew close you and mari beginning to worship the girl looking to her for guidance while Natalie scoffed and called the three of you “crazy” but every time you went fo say something Lottie would simply look at you and you would stop because if Lottie said jump you would say how high?. So when Lottie asked you to try talk to van you couldn’t say no. Lottie hadn’t seen your scar no one apart from misty had but they all knew it was there. You never spoke about it but the scarf gave you away.

At first van ignored you. The two of you were never close due to your attitude and her friendship with Natalie and she had no intention to change that you started to get frustrated. Lottie kept asking if you were making progress with van and when you said you weren’t she looked disappointed and to you there was nothing worse than letting Lottie down so one night while everyone else was asleep you woke van up by dragging her outside and while she shouted at you for “scaring the shit out of her” you pulled off your scarf and showed her your scar. Then you stepped forward and slowly began unwrapping the bandages around her face. The two of you spent hours crying into each others embrace after that. You fell into a ritual of wearing your coverings around the others but taking them off when it was just the two of u. Which was a lot more common as the two of you bonded over your love for movies. Natalie hated this.

When van took her mask off at doomcoming it was the happiest you had felt since the plane went down. Not only were you genuinely happy for your friend but you were also happy that you had done Lottie proud once again.

Time went on a and your neck remained covered. Things changed drastically after winter hit you started relying even more on Lottie doing everything she said without a second thought even if that meant eating your friend. When Shauna attacked Lottie you again fell into shock just watching as Shauna beat the life out of Lottie until she pulled away and you ran forward with misty. You stayed with Lottie nursing her back to health with misty and mari all while trying your best to survive yourself on the minimal food you were eating. When misty told the group of lotties idea. To kill one of the group to eat you immediately agreed Lottie had spoken and that meant you would listen no matter the outcome. So you chased Nat through the woods screaming with the others and you watched javi drown feeling no remorse whatsoever because it was what Lottie wanted. At least that’s what you had been told.

When Lottie finally came down from the attic and walked into the main room of the cabin you jumped up hugging her forcefully happy to see your Lottie was better. That was until you all sat down you next to Lottie as she stood looking around at everyone. Lottie gave her speach and announced that you needed a new leader. You sat up straighter you thought it was you. You who nursed Lottie back to health. You who believed her from the beginning. You who did everything she told you too because you believed. But it wasn’t it was fucking Natalie.

People started to rise walking over to Nat and placing kisses on her hand while you sat still in shock until you were the last one left. Everyone’s eyes were trained on you as you got up and walked over to Natalie reaching out to grab her hand when she pushed it away “kneel” she said forcefully her eyes trained on yours an emotionless look on her face and you did as you were told heat rushing to your cheeks as everyone watched on. You looked up at nat and reached out to once again grab her hand before she forcefully slapped you right across the face causing your head to whip to the side before she just walked away without saying a word. You stayed in that position as you heard taissa and Shauna giggle from there seats causing you to bolt up to the attic and shut the door.

The next few weeks were hell. Natalie completely ignored you at first she let everyone else worship her but you could not and you started to panic wondering what would happen to you if you didn’t show your allegiance to the wilderness. You once aired these worries to misty who being misty went straight to Natalie. From that moment on you never stopped. Natalie sent you on pointless tasks that were impossible to complete taking you all day only to return to no food and Natalie publicly shaming you for failing.

That’s how you ended up on your knees in Natalie’s private room she claimed after coach Ben ran off begging the girl to accept you.

“And why should I? Why should I give a piece of shit like you the chance to feel better about your pathetic life” Nat spat her hand griping your hair and pulling your head back

“Please Natalie I will do anything” you begged looking up at the girl

“Anything?”

#nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio smut #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets imagine #natalie scatorccio

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toxicchamomile · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! You mentioned some Tawog theories that you had, would you mind sharing them? I love listening to fan predictions! :D

of course!

im gonna try my best to gather my thoughts here because not all of them are really organized/written down(only some of them are but the ideas are very rough), but either way take what i say with a grain of salt because im still not finished rewatching

okay so the main one im really focusing on when rewatching the show is this: Rob is the one controlling the episodes. *specifically* the ends of the episodes. i first got this idea from the end of “The Finale”, i believe gumball said something along the lines of “the only thing that can save us is reality being completely reset by some kind of magic device!” and, after completing the show i always assumed that they meant the remote Rob bought from the awesome store was the “magic device”, but i thought about it some more and realized shit. they could be referencing anything.

but assuming that they meant the remote, it couldn’t have been Rob anyway, because he was in the void during that episode, right? hold onto this question for a moment

in “The Rerun” there is a part that i caught, right at the end. its *very* subtle and, in all honestly, might just be my theory brain going haywire, but when Rob rewinds time with the remote for the last time and goes back to *right* before gumball went into the void, gumball is in a drastically different position than both of the times he went into the void. the first two times, he willingly *jumped in* to save the remote. when Rob rewinds time for the last time, gumball is flinching away from Rob as if rob had the capability to eject him into the void. i cannot stress enough, THIS IS NOT A PRIOR SCENE. which leads me to believe that (if you have any other ideas for this PLEASE lmk cause i might be way overthinking it) rob rewound to a different timeline where gumball would have LOST. i dont think this serves any other point except to solidify that time travel *fucks shit up* in this universe big time, and that it can be done

i believe these lore episodes are leading up to the reveal of them being inside a tv and realizing theyre all in a show, and in “The Inquisition” and throughout the lore episodes, it makes itself very clear that this is *going* to happen. like, a disastrous event that nobody can stop. which is why rob was trying to make them human— so they had a chance to survive outside of a tv. outside of *fiction.*

i dont think its ever explained how rob gets back after he’s erased in “The Future”. he could have been exiled to the outside world during the time between that episode and “The Inquisition”, and its especially possible with the time frame because im p sure its been stated that “The Future” was supposed to be the first episode of the season. he could have been forced into the real world and accessed TAWOG(the show) through a REMOTE. from the real world. aka, “some kind of magical device”

its not said why the characters are going to be forced out of the show but its clear that Rob knows, and it would make a lot of sense that he’d know if he was living in the real world for a certain amount of time. it also explains the message in the wall at the end of “The Vegging”— usually i would play this off as a one-off gag, but the coloring of the letters looks *so similar* to rob and the void, it’s kind of impossible not to make the connection.

so yeah, that question you were holding onto? “it couldn’t have been Rob anyway, because he was in the void during that episode, right?” if he was in the real world with access to a remote, he would *totally* be able to do this.

another thing ive been looking for but havent really solidified is the endings of the episodes. *so many* of the episodes end in absolute disaster. itd make sense that rob cut them off/reset them there.

of course, the “magic device” probably isnt a remote, but it’s the only actual device we see during the show that holds that much power over the story and its characters.

there’s another theory i have that goes hand in hand with this one— Elmore is actively trying to get rid of gumball.

im not sure why it would do this-? but it makes sense, like why else would it throw him in situations like that? and maybe it sensed rob trying to save Gumball from outside the tv/show and the only way it could get rid of him was through the void.

I mean, let’s be honest, rob really wasn’t that boring. the gag he had with gumball forgetting his name wasn’t *hilarious* but it helped him have an actual speaking role, unlike some of the other background characters at the time. if the universe saw rob as a threat it seems pretty likely that it would do something like that

but yeah, thats my big Number One theory

if you have any questions or see any holes in this lmk!!! i absolutely love talking about this show :)

#tawog #the amazing world of gumball #gumball watterson #rob tawog #tawog gumball #holy yap

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ourtearsofrain · 6 months ago

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Chapter 22- We Fought for The Fable, But Instead We Burn

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka, Jake and Josh Kiszka

Genre: angst

Word Count: just over 1.2k

Warnings: AU typical events/threats/violence, description of fight/killing and injuries, possible loss of sibling, murderous thoughts

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Jacob

The Garden

“I couldn’t let you die.”

He didn’t. Tell me that idiot didn’t just get himself killed when he was so close to winning, so close to coming home to us. Jacob’s teeth ache at the force of how hard his jaw was clenched, his eyes glued to the screen covering the entire wall before them. I can’t do this, I can’t watch my little brother die. I won’t let him. Just as he turns towards the side of the room where he knew President Starcatcher was calmly watching the events unfold, he realizes that his twin had beat him to it, already stalking across the room while throwing chairs out of his way in his rage. FUCK. I’ve never seen him this angry, he’s gonna piss some really important people off if I can’t stop him.

Joshua slams his hands on her desk as she looks at him unflinching, her face trained into a cool, collected expression as he stares daggers at her. “Get him out of there. Get Samuel out, right now.”

“Mr. Kiszka, just because he is your brother does not mean he gets any special privileges. You know the rules, the tradition. There is only one victor.”

“FUCK THE RULES, FUCK TRADITION! YOU CHANGED IT FOR US, SO CHANGE IT FOR HIM!” Jacob’s anger is replaced by panic as Peacekeepers surround them, knowing Joshua was toeing a very thin line. Just because they were mentors, victors, did not mean they were exempt from any consequences of their actions. His panic only grows as he glances back to the screen, seeing Samuel pull the dagger from his chest. Why would he do that? Is he trying to die? Does he want to die?

“Joshua.” Her tone is calm yet firm, her eyes steeled as she tries using the authoritative air that hung around her against him. “May I remind you that the circumstances of your games were quite different in celebration of the Second Quarter Quell. Do not make me remove you from this room.”

Hushed gasps and whispers fill the room, ripping Jacob’s attention from the scene before him to the screen. While he had expected many things to cause that reaction, he hadn’t anticipated what he saw. Samuel was laying in Daniel’s lap, kissing him as he held onto the other man as if he was afraid he would lose him if he let go.

“You- you idiot. I can’t let you go, not now. I can’t lose you, I need you. I need you outside of this goddamn arena because I- I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jacob had never seen Samuel look at another person the way he looked at Daniel, never heard him sound so genuine and utterly heartbroken.

I understand everything now. I understand why he sacrificed himself for Daniel. It would be better to let Samuel die there than to trade his life for Daniel’s. He would never forgive us if we got him out alive but hadn’t done the same for Daniel. Jacob turns his attention back to his twin, not missing the way Joshua was eying a pen on the desk. He knew he was mere seconds away from using it against her, forcing her to get their younger brother out. And he also knew that Joshua could make anything a weapon if given the chance, and he wouldn’t hesitate when it came to Samuel’s life.

Jacob finds Joshua’s side quickly, ignoring the Peacekeepers edging closer to them at his actions as he places his hand on the other man’s shoulder, trying to keep him from taking drastic measures. “Joshua, please.” He offers no explanation as Joshua’s fury turns into confusion, surely thinking that Jacob was indifferent to the situation based off his cool demeanor. But Jacob was far from indifferent; he wanted nothing more than to burn the entire Garden down and kill President Starcatcher himself if she didn’t agree to save Samuel. He just knew how to make her agree, in a way that would preferably keep both him and Joshua alive, using logic as his only weapon.

He turns his attention to the President, training his face into a pleasant, calm expression. “President Starcatcher, if I may. I understand the rules and how it may look if you change them for a tribute who happens to be the brother of previous victors. However, how will the games go on if there’s no one to watch them?”

“Excuse me? I’m not sure I follow the point you are trying to make, Jacob.”

“I’m just thinking rationally here. With the citizens of The Garden, hell, the entirety of The New World holding both of them dearly in their hearts, are you prepared to face the backlash you will get by letting one of them die? Surely, ratings and views will drop, the people will be outraged. They might even boycott the games next year. Without viewers, what point will the games make?” Keep going, she looks more and more worried the longer you talk. She knows you’re right, she can’t deny it. “And once we lose our hold we have over the districts from the games, who’s to say they won’t try to fight back against the entire system, the entire foundation of our country? There could be another rebellion, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“You are blowing things out of proportion, they’d never rebel. By the time the next games roll around, they’ll have forgotten all about which of them died.”

“Maybe, but you don’t know that. How long ago was our games, Joshua?” Jacob turns towards his brother, relieved to see that he understood his strategy, his jaw clenched as he tries to stay calm.

“Four years ago.”

“That’s right, four years ago. And the citizens of The Garden still adore us, still talk about our victory with awed, excited whispers. They still love us just as much as they did four years ago.”

“I fear your victory has given you an ego, made you think you have more power than you do.”

“I don’t think so. It serves my ego no purpose to know this, it’s simply logic, quite obvious to everyone. Even to you.” The President stays silent, anger flashing behind her eyes. She knows I’m right. She just needs one final shove before she gives in. Jacob glances over at the screen, his heart breaking as he catches Samuel’s words.

“Tell my brothers, tell Jake that I’m sorry, that it wasn’t their fault.” He’s running out of time. We’re running out of time.

“If you won’t take my word for it, maybe you’ll listen to the people.” Jacob makes his way around her desk briskly, the roar of the crowd below them barely audible before he opens the window, their chants and screams reaching them even on the top floor of the building.

“SAVE HIM!”

“GET THEM OUT!”

“LET THEM LIVE!”

“See? The people want them both to survive, will you really deny them this? I’ll ask you again, are you prepared to face a rebellion? How long do you think you’ll last with all 12 districts and The Garden turned against you?”

Jacob holds his breath as her eyes lock on his, making no move to break their eye contact as he stares back, unblinking. After a few seconds, she takes a deep breath before turning to her second in command, her voice flat despite the rage he knew must have been boiling beneath its surface. “Get them both out. Now.”

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Taglist: @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @sanguinebats @cheersdannyx2 @musicislove3389 @holdingup-fallingsky @freyjalw @hailthegodsong @currentlyfangirling10 @Maddie-Rae

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #daniel gvf #sam gvf #sanny gvf #greta van angst #sam kiszka x danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny wagner #hunger games au

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yuseirra · 9 months ago

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Persona 3 and Oshi no Ko- About losses and moving forward

Spoilers for both works are included!

Do they seem like an odd combination? But watching them back-to-back made me realize some things. This is my commentary/stream of consciousness about how these two works tackle the loss of someone precious, and having to go on without them into the future. They do certainly share that theme in common, and it's made me think today :) I feel it's a meaningful subject to tackle.

This was originally written in another language- chatgpt helped me translate it in bulk ;v;) gah it really helps me lately; I can't dare type the full thing again, but I want to share my feelings...!

If you've been following me, you'd notice that I've been into two works (Persona 3 / Oshi no Ko) lately! Both works share the common theme of dealing with the loss of a crucial figure in one's life. In the case of Persona 3, I felt that the main story encapsulates a person’s life leading up to death, while the epilogue(episode Aigis) focuses on those who cherished that person, their lives stuck in limbo because they can’t let go, and the eventual return to the future after grieving. Literally, after the death of a very significant character, time stops for everyone left behind, trapping them in the moment. This seems like a metaphor: after losing someone, you don’t want to move on and would rather stay in that moment forever. If you move forward, it feels like you’re leaving that person behind, so you wish the future wouldn’t come. Or on the other hand, you might want to bury it all and move on as if nothing happened. But neither option is really the right answer, is it?

The correct path is to face the many aspects of that cherished person, remember them, consider what they might have wanted, and hold onto those memories as you move forward. That's the right thing to do, and in reality, the world we live in isn’t a fantasy, so it can’t be any other way. Time doesn’t stop, so you have to choose whether to move forward or stay still because the world isn’t kind enough to stop with you. Reality is harsher.

For the characters in Persona 3, the sudden loss of someone who was the center of their world left them all in deep shock, just when they thought only happiness awaited them.

In Oshi no Ko, someone is killed in the worst way possible, and this shakes the lives of everyone around that person to their core.

I genuinely believe that the person Ai really loved, that infamous boyfriend, didn’t harm her. I really don’t think he did. It just doesn’t seem like it from how the story unfolds. I’m not trying to force a hopeful outcome; it just doesn’t align with his character. It also makes for a better story if he didn’t do it. Ai’s son and daughter are deeply traumatized by what happened as well.

Today, I read several articles about suicide survivors, and they mentioned something like this (I’m paraphrasing from memory, so it might not be exact): When a death strikes sudden and shocking, as something you’re not prepared for, the time it takes for your logic and heart to accept it is drastically different from one another. It becomes incredibly difficult to come to terms with.

With a more gradual death, such as from illness or natural causes, your heart and mind have some time to prepare for the loss. But this kind of death leaves deep scars of guilt and confusion for those left behind.

From reading those articles, I began to think, whether the manga creator intended it or not, that both Aqua and Hikaru couldn’t accept Ai’s death. Even after many years, they’re still trapped in that moment, unable to move on, much like the characters in Persona 3 who are stuck in the "abyss of time" in -the answer-.

Among the three, Ruby is the most… how should I put it… She’s severely depressed too, but she’s still the one thinking about the future, dreaming of what she wants to do.

Aqua, deep in his heart, also doesn’t want to be trapped in these feelings anymore and is starting to long for peace and happiness (because his current state is incredibly painful and it brings him suffering).

As for Hikaru… he has none of that. He’s the character who, out of the three, has completely given up on the future, not even wishing to escape from his self-blame and depression. This isn’t about comparing the depth of their sadness; it’s just that he doesn’t think about his future, nor does he want to escape from his despair.

These dynamics make sense because the degree to which each character feels responsible for Ai’s death increases from Ruby to Aqua to Kamiki. The extent of their guilt over the death of someone so precious to them has profoundly affected their hearts.

That’s why I found the concept of "making the movie of Ai" in Oshi no Ko really clever from this perspective. One of the articles I read mentioned how some people, when going through the belongings of the deceased, like a diary, would realize there were sides to the person they never knew. This led them to look at the deceased from a different perspective.

For Aqua and Ruby, making the movie about Ai might have been part of their grieving process. By examining Ai’s life, they began to understand her as a person better than before. And I think Ai’s wish was always for her loved ones to be happy. What she left behind was a confession and a plea to the people she loved but had to leave behind. She was such a lovable person. Instead of being remembered for the moment of her death, she’ll now be remembered for how she appeared in the movie, right? If the movie gets released and goes public. Aqua, in particular, has a traumatic memory of Ai being stabbed, but after making the movie, I think he’ll remember her as the Ai he met while filming. And because of that… after making the movie, Aqua was able to tell Hikaru that he would move on toward the future.

As for Hikaru… I’ve said this about the character before, but I don’t think he wanted to live after Ai died. If he’s been clinging to life, it’s probably because he wanted to do something for Ai. But he’s in a state of utter despair. If you pay attention to his emotions, you can sense something overwhelming and burdensome. And whatever I’m feeling can’t possibly compare to what someone in that situation would feel, right? This must be… really hard. He must not want to live. That’s what I felt. To feel these emotions, I think this character must have had very little actual involvement in Ai’s death. The more involved he was, the more shameless and brazen he’d have become. There’d be a thorny, defensive attitude like, “So what? Sure, I did some things, but they made mistakes too, didn’t they?” You see none of that in his actions. So, I think it’s more likely that he didn’t do anything.

He hasn’t been able to move on at all. It’s like he was unable to take a single step forward from the moment Ai died. He’s probably been living with that kind of deep sorrow and despair, thinking he deserves to suffer as punishment, and he might have intentionally kept those feelings alive. That’s why I believe this character would’ve tried to undo the situation. To him, it’s as if time hasn’t passed at all… He just couldn’t accept Ai’s death, so he’d wish, even at the cost of anything, that it hadn’t happened, and maybe he wished he were dead instead of her. Without Ai, as the lyrics say in the song, he can't go on living. He doesn’t even want to live. If there had been any hope of saving her, I think he would’ve clung to it. If such a hope didn't exist, it would’ve been tough for him to hold on to these emotions for so long.

And that heart of his could begin to shift after seeing Ai’s video. Only then he would have began to realize he actually has a life with a tomorrow. It would be painful, but he realized Ai wanted him to continue living and move forward. So he has to do it. If he can't do it for himself, he must do so for Ai.

I’m not sure if he’s actually in a state where he can move forward because we don’t know how much guilt or sins he’s carrying. But it seems that only after seeing Ai’s video did Hikaru realize that he has a life ahead of him.

In order of Ruby, Aqua, and Kamiki, they seem to be progressing in their journey to move on after Ai’s death. That’s how I see it.

If someone that precious to me died, I think I also would wish time wouldn’t move forward. I couldn’t bear to see those memories fade, and I’d want to stay close to them forever.

If there were hope to bring them back, I think I’d feel a strong urge to try. That’s why I’m attached to characters like Yukari. The whole world is at stake if she goes through with it though, so I can't support her with 100% conviction, but I do see where she's coming from and I sympathize with it to a degree.

As for Kamiki, he believes he killed Ai (which I don’t think is true. It would be better for the story if it weren’t true). In that case… he can't bear to live. Ai, in terms of character relationships and setup, has been crafted in such a way that Kamiki would consider her several times more precious than his own life… She was his everything. She gave him everything that he loved. Like in the song “Fatal” where the lyrics repeat that sound like Ai, Ai, Ai, after the words, "致命的"(fatal), "運命的"(fateful), "必然的"(sacrificial), she was that kind of person to him. Losing her meant he couldn’t go on living. And if he believes it was his fault? Honestly, I don’t even know how this character is still alive. Maybe, as the title Mephisto suggests, he’s alive because he made a deal with the devil. The emotional structure in this manga is very realistic, delicate, and authentic. I believe the author has a deep understanding of psychological pain.

He was in a state where he couldn’t even begin to grieve because he couldn't bear accepting she passed. Only now, he might finally be able to. He’s revisiting what kind of person Ai was, how lovable she was (isn’t that video incredibly endearing? From Hikaru’s perspective, it’s like Ai was confessing her love to him saying "Hello! I really love you! I want to be with you forever!"). He saw her again and was reminded of who she was. That’s why he can finally begin to step out from that dark place he's in.

And that’s probably what Ai wanted. Ai really... did it. Even though she unintentionally caused pain to the people she loved, in the end, she saved them. I think Ai really liked Hikaru a lot and genuinely wanted to be with him. Not just that I think so—she actually said it herself… haha, but yeah, I think she did save him in the end… Even after her death, she ultimately saved him and her children too. It’s amazing…she's great.

In Persona 3, when the main characters decide to go see what the protagonist did, and then figure out what to do afterward, it’s somewhat similar. Figuring out what kind of person the deceased was and what they wanted—since they’re already gone, you can’t have a conversation with them or meet them directly, but still, it’s necessary to put aside your own feelings and just look at things as they are. And that became the answer to what the right thing to do was.

I’m lucky because I haven’t experienced a lot of death yet, so I still have opportunities. If someone you cherish is still alive, you have the chance to show them how much you love them.

I’m not without guilt either; there are things where I think I could have done better. But as long as both the other person and I are alive, I can still express my feelings.

The sad thing about being alive is that someday you’ll inevitably part ways. But the happy thing about being alive is that if you have people you love, you can be glad you met them. Even though you’ll eventually part ways in sadness, it doesn’t make the happiness meaningless—it shapes who you are. I hope that, for the people who have given me that kind of happiness, I can remember them more as the joy that makes up who I am, rather than just with sadness.

Maybe that’s the kind of story this is telling, too. Persona 3 definitely conveys that, and I think Oshi no Ko can also be seen in that way.

If you look at the three of them who have experienced the loss of Ai, Ruby is indeed moving in the most desirable direction, isn’t she? Besides, this manga has quite a few fantasy elements, so I think it’ll be okay. I feel like Ai, who really became a star, is probably watching over her family, the ones she loves most in the world. You can dream even more in fiction than how things are in reality. That's the good thing about "fiction", you can get a definite happy ending. Don’t you think they can be happy? :)

#persona 3 #oshi no ko #oshi no ko spoilers #hikaai #ai hoshino #hikaru kamiki #persona #persona 3 reload #spoilers #mhm.. I really like p3 #I hope onk gets a good ending I'll end up loving as much as that..(the stakes would be HIGH if p3 ending's supposed to be it.. XD)#I respect how they handle emotions in that comic though. it's very good and delicate.. STRONG and PAINFUL but it illustrates things well #oshi no theories

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