#they couldn’t be drastically more different in thinking and you only really realize that at the birthday scene where Curly felt the need to

[dykedvonte]

Something something perhaps the reason Curly lacks a truly undamaged ID where his face is visible is to represent how much damage Jimmy had already affected on him throughout their relationship and the way Curly obscured part of who he is and what he stood to unintentionally cater to this toxic influence in his life.

[reverie-starlight]

okay that kuroo piece is still coming but have this small sakusa x MSBY!manager blurb that I just thought up and got so excited about!! I’m marking this down as fem!reader just for this specific little ramble. it can be read separately from the series !!

warnings: none, but probably a bit of a disconnect from what really happens at charity galas lmao

sakusa kiyoomi has a certain reputation for being very stoic and stand-offish in public- always polite but rather blunt in interviews. he’s tall, intimidating and not very personable around those who don’t know him, so it’s not a surprise people perceive him this way. his preference for wearing his mask most of the time only adds to this reputation, and he couldn’t care less. in fact, you would argue that he finds comfort in being perceived as unapproachable by strangers.

but when MSBY fans realize how horrifically down bad their favourite wing spiker is for the team manager, they have a field day with this absolutely drastic personality shift.

it starts with little jokes made by fan accounts about how much nicer he is to you in comparison to his teammates. they latch onto passing comments made by bokuto or atsumu about how when you’re at practice they feel at ease because they’re less likely to get obliterated by his sarcastic remarks.

no one has clued into the fact that you’re together yet, just that there’s some serious chemistry between you two.

it doesn’t go much further than that until the night of some charity event a lot of different teams are attending. of course managers are there, as well as coaches and trainers and JVA employees.

you’re doing the press/carpet walk before entering the event and in between photos and walking between journalists, one of the straps of your heels has come undone.

you frown a little and inspect it before realizing your dress restricts your ability to fix it yourself, so you nudge your boyfriend and stick your foot out to draw his attention to your predicament.

you don’t think twice about how there are no words are spoken. just a simple action and understanding between two lovers.

so people watch on as sakusa kiyoomi drops to his knees right then and there without protest and fixes your shoe. you take the opportunity to adjust the neckline of your dress (a deep, silky forest green to match his tie) and look around while you wait for him to finish.

you don’t realize the uproar this is bound to create, and you definitely don’t think twice about the fact that your boyfriend isn’t wearing a mask to this event.

…which means everyone is able to see the blush on his face and the tiny yet extremely lovesick smile on his lips as he gets up. you grin and pat sakusa on the cheek in thanks before walking to the next reporter, him trailing behind you dutifully.

you check twitter the next morning and your timeline is flooded with videos of that moment, captions gushing about how sweet and happy he looks. some fans go as far as to say he looks like a lost puppy following you around.

he doesn’t regret it one bit, but you have to comfort him when he loses his stand-offish reputation after that because he dreads the idea of more people possibly coming up to him in public.

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

I literally sprinted here to write this lmao

not edited!!

tagging: @dira333 @emmyrosee

[vidalsbeloved]

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.

She wanted you.

“I give myself to you, Rio.”

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

[voidcat]

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.

[anisespice]

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

like

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

like

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, [_____].”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[teddypickrwritings]

*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.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

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!~

[penvisions]

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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[princeblue]

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

[ourtearsofrain]

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

[yellowjackets101]

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?”

[yuseirra]

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? :)

[dinkbear]

my honest review/analysis kinda of the new camp camp special (MEGA SPOILERS!)

okay i’ll start this out by saying i really liked it! when i watched it at first, i wasn’t crazy about it, then i rewatched (almost) the entire series and it gave me a new perspective. i didn’t realize how much of the series i had forgotten about considering i haven’t watched it in 2+ years. so i got to see the characters develop all over again.

i thought the story was very much something kids would go through and i thought their reactions and behavior was very believable. but, throughout the entire thing, i felt like some of the dialogue was very forced and some of it kinda fan-servicey?? like the “somebody fucking has to” throwback felt forced to me, but that brings me to another point. i think the new voice actors are pretty good, max sounds practically the exactly the same (which is good because i thought his old voice was perfect for his character) but his new VA definitely needs to find his spunk, which is completely fair, i’m an actor i know how long it can take to completely get into character. but i think that made some of the dialogue from him feel forced. and not just him, some of the characters who’s VAs didn’t change still had some dialogue that felt forced. and i get why they did it but it was like a drastic change from regular goofy david in the first half to soft and sentimental david in the second where he had his serious, soft voice on the entire time. 

i really liked how they had the two stories/fakeout ending thing! the only thing is i wish we would’ve had more time to expand on max’s emotions to the camp closing. i really liked seeing his facial expressions and how he reverted back to his yelling and snapping because he was upset. granted i understand why they couldn’t- they only had 30 minutes not 1 hour+. but i did something i don’t normally do and i watched the credits and listened to the song at the end:

“I hope this letter finds you well. Thought this shit was over, but I didn’t hear no bell. Put my life in every sentence written like it’s jail. The summer’s done, but I got hella stories I could tell. The doctor telling me my flow is sick at every check-up. Rap is my profession cause I went viral on Meta. Whipped the GTR like I’m piloting a Mecca. They talk behind my back, but it’s okay I keep my head up. I don’t give it weight unless they tell it to my face. I’m flashy like I’m in the mob, but I don’t stay in place. I cannot be phased ‘Campe Diem’ everyday. The memories we making they stay with us to the grave. I’m just being honest, every moment has to cease. Oh, this opportunity, the money, rest in peace. I write all these songs because he believe in me, so when the Winter comes I’m gonna still release the heat. (Richie, I said a lot of goodbyes, I said a lot of ‘so longs’).” and then it cuts to someone turning on a lamp on their desk to reveal this

and then it fades out with nothing else

given the lyrics to the song and this ending bit, i don’t know who’s speaking or who’s desk we’re at- max’s or gwen’s. now for the song i think it could be both, i think it could be two different letters written to david- lines like “Put my life in every sentence written like it’s jail,” “Rap is my profession cause I went viral on Meta,” and “Oh, this opportunity, the money, rest in peace” screams that its gwen to me, but then there’s lines like “The summer’s done, but I got hella stories I could tell,” “They talk behind my back, but it’s okay I keep my head up. I don’t give it weight unless they tell it to my face,” “I’m flashy like I’m in the mob, but I don’t stay in place,” and “I write all these songs because he believe in me.” which lead me to believe it’s max speaking. (KEEP IN MIND I HAVE NEVER LISTENED TO THE CREDITS SONGS BEFORE SO FOR ALL I KNOW THEY COULD MEAN NOTHING) so, i think it’s david reading two letters, one from max and one from gwen. to me thats the most logical explanation. now for the desk, i think its max’s. its not david because the walls are blue while in the counselor’s cabin they’re wood. and, max is the one who took the picture. granted, maybe he gave the picture to gwen, but seeing as max wears a blue hoodie, that might be his favorite color so his walls are blue too. i think this is max reminiscing over camp. and i think that’s how the new season is gonna start, with max reminiscing at home.

honestly, i have no clue what the next season will be, this special was set up like it was a finale with all the kids going home. but im very excited! 

all in all, i really liked the special and i’m excited for new episodes in 2024! but the special didn’t have jasper in it so 0/10

[kumeko]

A/N: For the “I am Ferdinand Von Aegir” zine! I love how much Ferdie needs to get Edie’s approval, it’s such a good trope, especially when he gets it and doesn’t know what to do.

…

…

…

…

Ferdinand knew Edelgard’s figure like the back of his hand. Tray in hand, he stood at the threshold of the strategy room, foot hovering over the line dividing them. As usual, Edelgard didn’t notice him, her attention utterly focused on the scale model of Fódlan before her. Her posture was perfectly regal, back straight, shoulders square. For someone so short, she cut an imposing figure. This had been true in their childhood, having bested him in every competition. This had been true in their school days when he was barely taller than her and her eyes were set on a horizon he couldn’t see. And it was certainly true now, long after the war, long after their world had flipped on its axis.

Sensing his stare, she turned around. “There you are. I thought you had gotten lost.” When he didn’t reply, Edelgard raised a brow. “Ferdinand?”

It was enough to jerk him out of his daze. Shaking his head, he crossed the threshold. “I just wanted to make sure we had some tea. I am certain you have not eaten since morning.”

Edelgard glanced at him, then at his tray. Laden with bergamot tea and blueberry scones, it was more of a snack than a meal, but it was better than nothing. Ferdinand wasn’t sure when he had taken over part of Hubert’s duties. Probably when Hubert realized he couldn’t hold a candle to him in the art of tea.

When Edelgard hesitated, her stubborn pride rearing up as usual, he gently added, “The war is over. Surely, we have time for a small break.”

“That does not make our task any less urgent,” Edelgard replied bluntly, but her shoulders relaxed nonetheless.

Half-filled inkwells, towering stacks of proposals, and scattered pens crowded the large oak table, leaving barely any room for him to set down the tray. “No, I suppose not, but we do have time to think about it.”

“Thinking without action is pointless.” Edelgard picked up a small soldier off the map, rolling it on her palm. “I doubt we will run into any major problems reforming Faerghus. The Kingdom is similar enough to our empire—full of stubborn old fools clinging to power and misguided values—that we can just replicate our efforts here. No, the issue is the Leicester Alliance.”

Ferdinand paused, smiling wryly as he remembered his old classmates. “They are a very free people.”

“Same pride as our own, but less rigidity in their rules.” Edelgard set down the piece, turning to him. Her robe brushed his arm, and it was funny how natural it felt to be this close to her. Close enough he could see the bags under her eyes, the tight line of her jaw, the small scar on her neck from a nearly fatal fight.

She looked up, her eyes boring into his as she asked, “What do you think, Ferdinand?”

It was a simple question. He had heard it many times before: in the middle of a classroom, at the start of training exercise, across the table as he struggled to find a tactic that would save the most people with the least casualties. The words never failed to stir up a sense of competitiveness—he had chased Edelgard’s shadow for years, and even now he found himself automatically turning toward her, watching for her reaction.

Only, he wasn’t seeing her from the back.

They stood side by side. Equals. Her eyes on him instead of an invisible goal.

Standing a little straighter, Ferdinand studied the model of Fódlan. During the war, their units had covered the map, entire armies positioned as they predicted their enemies’ moves. Now emptier, the map was mainly filled with pieces marking nobles as Edelgard moved them around. It was like the final stages of chess, the cleaning sweep before a checkmate.

And one piece still in the way was Gloucester.

Once upon a time, back when there were no differences nor borders of country or house alike to compare so drastically as now, two men—students, really, for they were hardly grown into their armour back then—shared a simple moment of respite among the gardens of a now crumpled school. Ferdinand lowered his eyes. It was not something they could do again. Yet, he had learned enough through their chats to know the way forward.

“We should talk to them,” Ferdinand finally said, turning to Edelgard now. “Not just to the remaining nobles, but to the local leaders. They value their freedom and ability to choose. If we present them with options, even ask for their ideas, they will find the right path.”

Edelgard said nothing, her gaze returning to the map. A silence fell over them. Ferdinand shifted his feet. Had he suggested the wrong thing? He peeked at the map, taking in the pieces once more. Short of tyranny, there weren’t many options available.

Just when he couldn’t take it any longer, her lips curled into a half-smile and she nodded. “That is a viable solution.”

A sense of pride filled him. “The best solution,” he added, unable to help himself.

“I would not go that far,” Edelgard replied wryly, though her smile remained. She picked up the teacup, taking a deep breath. “Would you mind going?”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. “To Leicester?”

“It was your idea.” Edelgard took a delicate sip of her tea. “Quite honestly, there is no one else I would rather entrust this to.” She looked at him over her cup. “Negotiation is your strength.”

It was an acknowledgment. Far different than the ones he had aimed for as a child, trying to better her—no, this was worth far more than those worthless praises he wanted. Ferdinand smiled. “Then I will take that duty proudly.”

“I am sure you will.” Edelgard chuckled lightly, finally relaxing now that they had a plan. “I suppose the meetings around here will go smoother without your arguments.”

It was as close to teasing as Edelgard ever got and Ferdinand laughed. “Your ideas will be weaker without me to fix them.”

Edelgard looked at him seriously and he flushed. “They certainly will.” She took another sip and closed her eyes. “I am not sure what I will miss more, this tea or our small chats.”

Ferdinand didn’t reply, not sure how to take her words. His almost confession, months ago, echoed in his mind, and he wondered if that meant the time was now. If that meant, she might be looking at him the way he had looked at her.

It was funny. For all that had changed, some things remained the same. While he might have stopped chasing her shadow, he certainly wasn’t done chasing her.

[welcome-to-green-hills]

So what do you think happened in between the time that Shadow was ejected from the ark and to earth after the ark raid fifty years ago? I really hope that is explored a bit more in the third film. On top of that, I think that you should treat yourself and go all sciencey with this post well. Mainly because I want to know your thoughts on the matter and I love reading your science posts and whatnot

Hello, my dear!❤️✨

I completely agree. I do hope that this is explored a bit more in the film. It wasn't entirely clear as to what happened within that time-frame in the games. I'm sure that many of us have an idea as to what happened with Shadow as he crashed to Earth from the ARK in Sonic Adventure 2. From my perspective, it seemed like Shadow had a bit of time on Earth before GUN Soldiers came to retrieve him from the escape pod.

Onto to your last bit, are you asking me what would happen to Shadow as he crashed to Earth? Like... in a real world perspective? Something realistic? Uh, I can try and go all science-y like you've asked. Please keep in mind that my background in science is anthropological rather than astronomy and such.

The first thing that I should address is that most of my comparisons are in a modern-day setting. Yes, we can see that everything in the Sonic universe is technologically advanced, but we can't begin to fathom HOW advance they really are. We're only going on the notion that they're incredibly advanced. My logic and retelling of the situation is hypothetical. It should not be taken as a hard fact.

Let’s establish Shadow’s setting before diving into the intensity of the situation. Applying logic of modern day technology to the situation, we know that a shuttle from the earth to the moon is roughly three days (Dobrijevic, 2023). This is made with the assumption of using 21st century aerospace engineering/dynamics. We, as the audience, see that science and technology in Sonic's universe is highly advanced. The problem with this is that we don't necessarily have a strong understanding of how advanced it truly is. We can assume that it's drastically different from ours, but can't place a marker in time how how many years into the future it truly is. The best that we can say is that it's highly advanced. For the sake of my sanity and yours, we'll say that the escape pod's projection from the ARK to earth is in three days or less. (This is based upon the assumption that the escape pod cannot be piloted on Shadow's end).

What we need to realize is that Shadow is in a state of shock. Everything that happened on the ARK is still fresh in mind. That moment replays over and over again. When someone is in a state of shock, your entire body in sensory overload. Blood flow drops and resorts in a plethora of symptoms. Symptoms like irregular and labored breathing, cold and clammy skin, enlarged pupils, changes in mental behavior, and so forth (Mayo Clinic, 2023). These symptoms can vary depending on the intensity of the situation. And if anything, the ability to think rationally dwindles. The popular thought that the fandom has was why Shadow couldn’t teleport back to the ARK when ejected into space. While this may have seen like a logical idea, even if he bypasses his mental state of shock, there is a problem with canon rule. Before the rule change, Shadow could only use chaos control to teleport unless he possessed an emerald (Takashi lizuka, 2013). Chaos Control is different than a Chaos Snap, meaning that distance is a factor. This was the canon rule for when SA2 was released in 2001. Even if he were to rationally think and formulate a plan, he wouldn't get very far. He’s completely trapped in the escape pod.

Other than going through a state of shock, he learns how to quickly adapt to the void of space. These are physical changes. A few queries that are stressed from astronauts is how they must relearn to adjustment to earth's gravity, natural lighting, and sound after space travel. These assumptions could be implied with Shadow as well.

In space, Shadow learns to adjust to the light intake that's around him. There isn’t a lot of light, but there's enough for him to see stars, planets, and the ARK. Since the ARK functions as a space station, we can conclude that he exposed to select adaptations of light cycles is present (Guo et. al, 2014). This means that he's adapted a circadian (biological) clock and sleep cycles. His natural habitat is space; his circadian clock matches space time. Entering into a new habitat with a different volume of light intake may mess with him completely. Other than affecting his sleep cycle, it will affect how he's able to see in a brighter setting. This could potentially result in temporary blindness. So even landing on earth, he wouldn't be able to get very far due to lack of vision problems.

Another factor to mention is his adaptation to earth's gravity. We must assume that the ARK has his own gravitation field and one similar to earth. I stress the word "similar" because it's not a complete replica. It's artificial. We cannot make the assumption that the escape pod possesses a gravitational field like the ARK—we lack that detail in SA2. Therefore, we must conclude that Shadow is subjected to weightlessness. We've learned from physiological study that extended periods of time in space will result a change in how the body adapts to earth's atmosphere (Cranford & Turner, 2021). Since Shadow is isolated in an enclosed environment for a specific amount of time, his perception of spacial orientation, head-eye/hand-eye coordination, general locomotion, and balance might be minimal. There would still be difficulties of adjusting to earth, but he wouldn't spend countless years of his lift trying to adapt.

Finally, there's the adjustment to sound. The unit of sound is measured in a decibel. The decibel value can increase and decrease depending on the environment. Typically, we hear a sound frequency at a decibel of 70 in every day activity (Editor, 2018). This is the equivalent of hearing car horns or a crowd of people talking in a store. Compared to everyday life on the ARK, Shadow is thrown into the void of space. The lack of sound—other than his own breathing (which can be measured at a decibel of 10 in sound frequency)—will be what he’s used to hearing. Once welcomed to earth, the frequency of sound that he’s used to is quickly forgotten. The natural and human sounds that come from earth may be too loud for him to comprehend at first. This could result in ringing of the ears and muffled noises. Since he was not trapped in space for a prolonged period of time in the escape pod, he will adjust eventually.

If Shadow was able to land on earth safely before GUN Soldiers came to retrieve him, then realistically he'd spend some time recovering from his escape. He wouldn't be moving around a lot. Then again, I'm not entirely sure of his recovery rate in order to say this with confidence. It would only be a matter of time before he was found and imprisoned with his creator by the United Federation. As I've said before, this is all hypothetical.

Jesus Christ this turned really dark... I hope this answers your question.

[leonhardt-simp]

Rainy Days

[canonverse] | scenario

Mercy x f! reader

summary: The day was nothing but a rocky start, it couldn’t possibly get worse.. Right?

author’s note : FIRST MERCY REQ! Thank you so much! I hope I can write this wonderful woman to your satisfaction

Reblogs welcomed ! | Requests : Open

The sound of rain was your first warning that the day was likely to go bad, though that followed up with you knocking over your coffee on your papers and hitting your side on the corner of the table? It was a drastically tamer warning.

You thought that drying the papers with a hairdryer would do some justice, though not professional looking, it still was legible. Better than absolutely nothing right??

Today was supposed to be a special meeting with some of Overwatch researchers and of course, everything was just not going your way. You even tried looking at the weather before hand!

Soon the sound of your alarm blared off from your phone that was across the room.

You could be sworn that you had at least an hour left?

Now was crunch time, you had to be dressed and out the door now. You placed the half dry papers in a folder and placed them in your briefcase, taking it with you to your closet to pull anything that was wearable and somewhat presentable with you with some shoes and started to head out.

It was your one chance to become apart of something big, you caught the attention of overwatch themselves! This was a huge moment for you. You weren’t gonna let a fee hurdles ruin this.

“Come on, it’s just sprinkling..” You told yourself as you practically were dressing yourself at the front door.

Something really did have it out for you though, cause the moment you opened your door the rain seemed to get heavier.

Your face was in an absolute bafflement, you were really starting to regret not buying that one umbrella on sell now.

You sighed in defeat, lifting your bag above your head and running through the street. You could already feel the regret forming in your head when you could feel the water start to make your socks wet.

The rain was starting to soak through everything, it was enough to force you to stop under an underpass. Your hands tried to shake off the water off your bag, your clothes, from your hair but nothing really relieved you of this wet and cold feeling.

“Shoot, I’m gonna be late. I need to-” You tried feelings for your phone but was met with empty pocket. You could feel your heart drop then and there. You then panicked and began looking through your bag.

It was both but papers, a laptop, not your phone. Your hands dropped down with your hands still in the bag as realization settled in.

You forgot it. You remember where it was too. On it’s charger probably still blaring it’s alarm on your nightstand. How could you forget it?

After slowly falling into a squat, holding your head in your hands, you began to shake your head in disbelief once more. you were on the verge of having a mental collapse, this day couldn’t have gotten worse.

You’ll needed to just wait it out and hopefully beg for another chance. You could already see the scene in your head, just you on your hands and knees begging to present your work to them. Maybe, some tearful eyes to really send the regret to them. Maybe they’ll let you off the hook?

Yeah, right.. That’s wishful thinking.

You stayed in your spot, sighing at the thought of being known for missing such an opportunity.

Then you saw a blonde running through the rain towards you, in her hands being a broken umbrella.

“Ah, stupid umbrella..” She spoke with an accent. Her tone was melodic to you, almost naturally nurturing despite her berating an umbrella.

It seemed you weren’t the only one with a rude awakening today.

when she was safely out of the way of the rain, she looked somewhat in the same state as you. Only difference was she wasn’t completely soaked because of her umbrella.

You watched her and soon got a glance of her face as she moved her hair from her face, you met with probably one of the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever witnessed. A cute contorted brow that expresses this woman was annoyed.

‘Holy shit, she’s beautiful-’ You now felt nervous, being wet didn’t help you try and get comfortable either.

She seemed to struggle with fixing the umbrella, soon opting to just toss it into a bin just outside the opening of small underpass tunnel.

With a huff after throwing the useless object away, she spoke to you, catching you by surprise.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you.” She apologized after finally noticing you standing there, you just shook your head in response.

“Ah- No, it’s- It’s cool.” You had to clear your throat after, rubbing your hands together as the cold was starting to make you shiver slightly. “I wasn’t doing… much.” You added awkwardly, her head nodding in acknowledgment.

Her eyes seemed to stare a bit to take in your state. You felt little with this woman’s eyes on you, “You seemed to have fun though.” She says, figuring you probably played in the rain.

“Hm? Oh no.” You shook your head as you stood, your eyes averting away when you spoke.

“I was just…in-in for a rude awakening… Th-The rain seemed to really be eager today.” You tried to speak a clear sentence, she smiled and your eyes couldn’t help but look to her lips before looking down to your hands as they began to fidget.

The mystery woman’s bright blue eyes looked on the rain the poured down, though it was calming, getting in it was just an inconvenience when not given a special occasion. “You’re not the only one… I was supposed to be in a meeting today, I got thrown off by the time.” She expressed with a sigh.

“Aha,” you let out an awkward laugh, gaining her attention. “You too?” You walked to stand beside her, looking to her with a smile, hers seeming to brighten with yours.

“I was dumb enough to leave my phone. I-I was in such a hurry.” You shyly admitted, rubbing the back of your neck as she giggled at you.

“That eager then?” She wondered, you nodded. She seemed so easy to talk to, you could feel your shyness slowly shrugging off. However whenever your eyes met, it would just creep back.

You tried to put your hands in your pocket but was met with a struggle so you opted to keep your hands at your side, “It was an important opportunity and I messed it up before I got there.” You stated in defeat, her eyes showing sympathy for you.

Her hand moved up to rest on your wet shoulder, “It’s the risk that you take that makes you look better though, especially in this weather.” She encouraged you, your wet state starting to become slightly warmer with the new contact.

“You-You think so?” You wondered, maybe the wishful thinking wasn’t a far out thought. “What’s the meeting for?” She asked, her hand slipping off of you.

You reached into your soaked bag, reaching for a coffee stained papers that was sorta flimsy with the rain slightly soaking through the page. You handed her the page, in which she charmingly took the papers from your hand,

“Dr. O'Deorain and a woman by the name of Dr. Zeigler was interested in having me present for them… I had some hypothesis they seemed interested… More O'Deorain than the latter but…”

You watched as she stared at the papers, that nervousness was beginning to creep on you as she walked off to pace as she tried to delicately peel papers apart to read them.

Quietly, you admired her.

She seemed to have an aura much different from how she looked just a few moments ago. She seemed professional, her eyes concentrating on the papers. “This is remarkable…” She whispered, the praise being unexpected to you.

The blonde girl turned to you, “Your name?” She asked suddenly, making your body tense up and your voice not seemingly wanting to cooperate.

“I- It’s Y/N… Y/N L/N…” Your hands clasped together in front of you.

With her eyes observing you, she commented on your behavior. “Shy one, aren’t you?” Her tease wasn’t helping.

“You aren’t helping with that…” You admitted under your breath, her eyebrow raising. There was a small moment between you two looking at one another before you shyly looked to the floor, kicking a lil pebble around.

The woman couldn’t help but be charmed by your way with words, her head nodding as she thought about something. “You should go home, L/N.” She finally spoke, her eyes looking back to your papers.

Confusion hit you, “Huh?” You questioned the woman as she handed your paper back.

“Well, you can’t show up like that.” She motioned to you, “Plus these papers… I’d advise you go back to retype them. Risk is everything but going into a meeting looking like…” she motioned to you, with a polite smile. “This… won’t help you sway anyone.” She was liar though, she had already been swayed… moreso by you than the work.

You looked down at yourself, she wasn’t wrong but.. This could be your only chance. Your ONLY chance… You had to chase it.

“But…” You went to make a case but was cut off by the woman placing the papers against your chest. You took the papers, holding them against your chest as she interrupted your rebuttal.

“Doctor’s orders.” She winked to you before turning to see the rain beginning to soften. How could you argue with that?

“Tomorrow! You will show up and then do your begging.” She pulled out her phone from her pocket, beginning to look through her contacts. “You will hit it off, just don’t spill coffee on your work.” She seemed very confident in your ability, the support was great but… How would she know??

“Wait!” You called to her but she was already putting her phone to her ear, getting ready to be on the phone with someone. Of course, though she was getting ready to leave, she didn’t leave you without a polite wave goodbye.

“Trust me, Y/N. Make sure to take care of yourself.” Once the rain had eased on, she began to walk off to speak to whomever was on the phone in another language. As she was when she first arrived, she left a busy woman.

“I didn’t even get your name…” You muttered to yourself as you watched the pretty woman leave.

You took once glance as your papers and yourself before groaning.

She was right… You looked terrible. Maybe, it was for the best. You couldn’t get the woman’s number… so it’s probably best to take her advice instead.

And you did.

You were able to reschedule the meeting when you got home. That was one weight off your shoulders, but now you were just waiting for the next time for things to go wrong.

But, It didn’t.

The satisfaction of finally looking presentable and not soaking wet was nice. Your papers were neatly retyped and you even made copies this time! This was going to go smoothly.

You were gonna make sure of that.

The moment came quicker than you were ready. Cause when the room began to fill with eyes. There was one pair of eyes that made your sudden anxiety both mellow out and grow.

She gave you a polite wave and smile as you stood in the eyes of everyone. “Please present.” A woman with ginger hair spoke.

You stood speechless, her eyes shining with hopefulness as she took a set along side her coworkers. “You will present for me, Dr. Zeigler and Dr. O’Deorain.” You nodded, a little laugh coming from your lips.

Everything connected for you.

Maybe that day wasn’t the worst?