#they were both used as weapons and power do you understand my vision-

[lazyraton]

Kingssss card I made of everyone’s favorite gay monkies

[loveindefinitely]

03 — 𝘎𝘖𝘛 𝘔𝘌 𝘋𝘖𝘞𝘕 𝘖𝘕 𝘔𝘠 𝘒𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘚

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

When you wake up in the morning -- or, you suppose, what you can only guess is the morning -- you're not in the same position you fell asleep in.

No.

When you wake up, it's to free hands. No handcuffs, and no ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable position. There's a dull throb, but that's more likely from the events that had transpired long before being cuffed to a bed.

What you wouldn't do for some painkillers. Both for your sore muscles, and the impending headache that you have no doubt will appear within the next couple hours, if not minutes.

It's dark. The same pure black that you'd fallen asleep to last night.

Sitting up, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve, you stretch out your back with an elongated sigh, yawning not too shortly after.

Wiping at dreary eyes with the heel of your palm, you think.

Properly, fully, allow yourself to think over the past twenty-four hours. Process it, if not fully, then enough for you to get some sort of hold on your emotions. And, if not those, then at least enough to grapple a sort of understanding with your current predicament.

You were... compromised.

That was putting it lightly, sure, but it was also the truest statement to come out of all of this. You were compromised, at a military base, one which you'd previously never been to before.

The same military base that your father worked at, apparently. One that he served for.

The one that would now be reporting him as KIA. Or, whatever other term they used for murdering their own squad member.

"He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

That's what Price had said before you'd succumbed to less tangible nightmares than the ones you were currently living in. Your father -- he was awful to you, you were nothing if not aware of that fact, but --

He'd killed people, if Price was to be trusted. And, considering your predicament, he really shouldn't be.

But...

Intel was intel. You'd learnt that through years of living that truth, in circles of gossip and whispering schoolgirls on the playground. Information was, at its core, one of the most sought-after weapons for any army, no matter the size.

Whether that army be a high-school debate team, or one that aimed to create bloodshed at its own hands.

You'd been kidnapped. Fact. You assaulted two very dangerous men. Fact. ...Your father was dead.

Fact.

The door to your -- room? Cell? Death chamber? -- creaks open, light flooding through the opening it's created. When you look up, you swallow down your anxiety as you see the silhouetted frame of Gaz, large hand wrapped around the door handle.

Silence, your most familiar of friends, welcomes you both once more as he shuts the door closed behind himself. Feeling over the wall to his left, he finds the light, turning it on and effectively blinding you.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into your legs as spots dance in your vision.

"Shit, my bad," Gaz hisses, sounding appropriately genuine. There's something about the insultingly-handsome man that makes your posture soften, your heartbeat slowing in the most comforting of ways.

It's annoying.

He's annoying.

You lift your head from where it rests, but only enough to reveal your unamused glare and cold-bitten nose.

He stands, almost awkward in the small space, looking around it like it will reveal all the secrets he could ever wish to discover. All that they tell him is that Price needs to hire an interior designer.

"How'd you sleep?" The man settles on, a hesitant smile on his face as he meets your glacial eyes.

Those same eyes shift into ones of saccharine falsehoods as you shoot him the fakest smile you've ever had to construct. "Splendid, thank you! Y'know, the handcuffs really are great for comfort, and so is the smell of bleach and... yes, don't worry, the memories of seeing you guys kill my dad is a great feature to have in my dreams."

Watching Gaz's smile slip more and more with every word out of your mouth feels a little like a reward, and you accept it as such.

By the time you've finished, his expression is one displaying full distraught, as though your presence has caused him grey hairs within seconds.

Serves him right, you think triumphantly.

"Look... I dunno what I'm allowed to say," Gaz drags his hand down his face, before leaving it to rest at his chin, as if in thought. "But... you're not a prisoner here."

You scoff a mock of a laugh, no humour in its delivery. "Oh, how could I ever think as much?"

"Come have breakfast." The words -- they spill out, as if crashing into one another like a train wreck. Gaz, for his part, doesn't take his request back. Refuses to go back on his word -- a trait belonging to a seasoned operative.

Men who'd worked on the field were all too aware of their vows' weight in gold.

"With us. Price is 'n meetings and shit, but... join us. Ghost'll cook," Gaz insists, and --

"And I'm supposed to trust the man who shot my father dead to cook for me?" You ask, incredulous as you sit up straighter, gaze zoned in on the man standing before you, like a bomb aiming for its target.

Deadly precision. Deadly consequences.

His dark brows pinch together, and his hand falls from his handsome features reluctantly. "I can cook for you, if you'd prefer."

And maybe you're playing with fire. Being entirely, wholly too trusting, too hopeful that some kindness will be shown to you after the wretched experiences you've had to endure.

Or...

Maybe you just like the feeling of being burnt by the flames.

"Fine," the word comes out as a breath, but it's as loud as a scream when spoken within these four white walls. "I don't want to see Ghost."

Gaz, albeit apprehensively, nods. "That's... alright, love. He'll eat in 'is room."

"Use that pet name for people who reciprocate the feeling," you clip, standing on shaky legs. The mess that was yesterday seems to be affecting you on all fronts, which is nothing if not disappointing.

With a sharp intake of a breath, Gaz sharply nods, before gesturing towards the door with an open palm.

When you leave your, what you've decided to refer to as a cell, Gaz keeps as close to you as possible without your skin brushing. It's oddly thoughtful, considering that your current relationship stood somewhere closer to captor and captee, not cherry-popper and virgin.

...Although, that comparison was still accurate.

Sadly.

Kinda sadly?

Look, they were hot, but in the same way that the Nephilim were deemed to be dangerously attractive. Ruthless, murderous -- and heartachingly beautiful.

The problem came when weighing the value of such characteristics. Shame that you cared about their personality and morals, really.

Looking around, you try and register your surroundings as best as possible.

The hallway is empty. No armed guards, no military personnel -- just paved concrete walls, and a turnoff or door every few paces.

It's not at all what you'd expected of a SAS base, but then again, you didn't exactly have specific blueprints in mind. Kind of hard to research when, not even thirty hours ago, you had thought that your dad was a business man.

...And the fact that you had no clue where in the country you actually were.

"Where are we?" You ask, in a whisper -- although there's no reason for the low tone -- and he responds with a raised brow.

"That's classified information, I'm afraid."

"How do I become classifiable?"

He huffs a laugh, and those dimples of his come out to play once more.

They're as annoying as the rest of him, you think, snapping your head to your left to avoid so much as breathing too close to him.

You stop walking when Gaz does, his footsteps going silent as he levels a knowing look to his right.

It's then that you hear an American, strict voice from the other side of the door Gaz has stopped at. When you shoot him a questioning look, he simply brings his pointer finger to his mouth, tipping his head towards the shut oak door.

Shut up. Got it.

"He's good," that unfamiliar, unnerving -- your mind unhelpfully supplies -- voice says. "And he knows too much. Price, neutralising him is our only bet -- find him, and take him out."

"Didn't realise being a hitman was part of the job requirements," Price snips back. You think that you can hear the puff of a cigar after he speaks those words, but it's difficult to hear with the solidity of the wall between you both.

Your eyes go wide, and when they meet Gaz's own serious ones, he shakes his head so subtly you almost think you've imagined it.

"Son, your 'job requirements' require you to protect the damn state. Killing Andromeda is vital to that end goal."

"I hardly think so. A hacker with no affiliations? Hell, General, you're pulling at straws here." His accent's thicker, more pronounced, when he's pissed off. Not in the way he'd been with you -- this was more raw, more... genuine, in a way.

You don't get long to revel in this discovery, before new ones take the forefront.

The other man in the room's voice is sterner, louder than it had been before when he speaks next. "Andromeda is a threat to humanity. What we do is secret for a reason, soldier. This information gets out, and millions are in danger."

"Andromeda has yet to make a single threat, General."

"And we'd best make sure that he never does."

"I --"

"That's an order, Captain."

Silence remains for a heavy beat after that final command, before Gaz gently grasps your wrist, pulling you to walk swiftly through the hallway by his side.

It isn't until you both meet what you assume to be the mess hall that you finally breathe. You aren't sure when exactly you'd forgotten to perform that basic function, but now that air fills your lungs, it burns.

"What --" You begin, but forcibly halt the word-vomit that was about to explode from your mouth.

Gaz looks tense, uncharacteristically so. His grip hasn't removed from your wrist, so you tug your limb free forcefully. That seems to snap him out of whatever daze he's in, as thoughtful brown eyes meet yours in question.

You swallow, once, before continuing at a much safer speed. "Why did you want to eavesdrop?" You ask at a low tone, and you realise that he's moved you both to the corner of the kitchen, away from prying eyes. He's willing to talk, if that decision means anything.

You hope that it does.

He looks away, for a moment, going to pace nervously on the tiled floor of the cooking area.

There's a few seconds that pass before he answers.

"Needed to hear it for myself," is all he supplies. As if those words are supposed to make any sense to you --

But they do. It's the first thing to make sense in hours.

"So... you lot have to kill this guy?" You ask, voice not wavering once. It's a feat in and of itself.

Gaz halts his pacing abruptly, thumb pulling at his lower lip in an anxious movement. It's a startling thought when you remember how those very lips had been pressed against your own not too long ago.

Now, you could happily die without having to see them again.

...Go figure.

"We have to find him. That's the hard part -- fucker's great at what he does," Gaz grits out the compliment like it's a physical pain, a blow to his side. Dramatic, but effective.

You raise a brow. "And... this is your job... why, exactly? Are you all tech-pros or some shit?"

He makes a grumbling sort of sound, like a petulant child. "...No. We're stuck. And, hell, the guy's done jackshit except bypass all of our servers' firewalls just to prove that he can. No violence. No threats. Nothing."

"Why're you telling me this?" It's not at all the question that needs answering, in fact, it's so far down your importance ranking that it's truly a mystery why you ask it.

He doesn't miss a beat. "I trust you. Trust my gut. Never failed me before, and -- I saw. In your room. You have a setup, yeah?"

The confession startles you, and you nod along with his words, completely hiding your inner shock. Shock that he'd paid close enough attention. "Yeah, I do. Play games and stuff. Why?"

"You can --" His words are disjointed, a myriad of thoughts forming a mess of a sentence, "Need family, yeah? Place to stay? Help us with -- Yeah."

Your eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you on about? I'm not helping a bunch of murderers, just to be charitable."

It's laughable when you put it plain as day, and Gaz groans, realising his absolute disaster of a proposal.

"Fuck. I mean -- if you're good with code. You could help us find him -- you'd be a great asset, you know? And... it'd help you too. We could hire you --"

"Dinnae realise ye were holdin' an interview without us."

You turn, the action instinctual, before your eyes land on Soap, leaning against the bit of wall behind you and Gaz that hides you from sight.

He's got a plaster over his nose, but the swelling and bruising has calmed down a surprising amount considering the time frame.

"How the fuck did that heal so quick? Not a good enough throw, military man?" You goad, as if to catch up for the time you'd spent being civil with Gaz. Needed to keep up your quota somehow.

Soap's smirk deepens, becomes more akin to the one of a devil holding the forbidden fruit in front of your nose. "Quick? Ken a week 'nd a bit is solid."

It takes a moment for those words to hit you properly, and when they do, you take an unsure step back. "What...?"

"Jesus christ, Johnny," Gaz mutters, and you store that little name slip for later. He pulls you back around to face him, face unreadable for once. "You were... out for a ten days."

Ten. Days.

Wincing, you look to the roof for an answer. It doesn't respond, but you reach the conclusion yourself.

....You were so dead.

a/n. thank u all SO MUCH for the love on this fic!! it means so much to me. im gonna be honest. ive planned MULTIPLE plot twists, and i really really really hope that i can pull them off. if u guys have any theories for ANYTHING pls comment them!! tell me all about ur thoughts!! im curious to see if anyone catches anything that will be important later on. also! i made a spotify playlist for this fic!! i highly recommend listening to it while reading -- it's the general vibes i've gone for! again, all comments, reblogs and follows mean the worldddd to me!! mwah mwah

taglist. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll @elijahssuit @character---obsessed @ilove-masked-men @arithestrawberry @undercover-smutlover @sugarystuff @khodarling @the-hotsibling @kkaaaagt @sleepyoriana @jalepp @yannauauau @thriving-n-jiving @catmouseggy @jng-yuan @cacacattz @yaebaal @hayleybarnesx @squidalapobre @selcouthsky @ash-tarte @head-slut-in-charge @giannags-billetdoux @creamwhxre @moonlightflorence @maliagurl @airyonna15

[hallayaps]

Hallo :D

Can I please request either Itto, Kaveh or Alhaitham (you can choose since idk what characters you like writing and i love them all) with a reader who was injured in battle with them. <3

Requests are always open ^^

Hallo :D

You requested either but i couldn't help but to do all LOL, i love all those characters as well so don't you worry, you didn't mention if it's about how they take care of the reader or how they protect them or how would they react seeing them get hurt so i took liberty at doing that i hope you enjoy :>

Notes: reader is gender neutral, has a hydro vision and is a blue oni due to recessive genes and all in ittos part, reader knows both kaveh and alhaitham from the academia in their separate parts and is a researcher for the academia AND is roommates with kaveh and alhaitham but they come and go because they go all around teyvat... Blablabla let's get started (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠).

It's my first time writing, English isn't my first language, characters aren't lovers yet but it takes that route somehow, enjoy :)

ITTO

Inazuma's sky was a tapestry of darkening hues, with the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the vibrant landscape.

You had recently arrived in Inazuma, seeking to understand more about your heritage as a blue oni after going and tracking your family lineage and figuring out Inazuma could be a good head start.

To your luck (?) you met Yae Miko and she took interest in you because of your unique looks that people don't see everyday, or at least these present times they don't, with her sly smile, suggested you meet Arataki Itto, as she explained that he leads a gang and all you were visibly concerned as he seemed troublesome but when she mentioned he was a fellow oni you somewhat relaxed and understood why him exactly.

The meeting was nothing short of electrifying. Itto’s enthusiasm was infectious, and he immediately took you under his wing, thrilled to have found another oni, he talked and talked, bragged about his horns and compared them to yours.

And as you walked through the streets of Inazuma, Itto regaled you with tales of his adventures and avoided his misadventures but clearly he was a very bad liar, you two passed time and he decided he totally had to introduce you to his gang, so y'all began looking for them here and there.

But the evening took a sudden turn when you encountered a group of Abyss Order members. Itto, always eager for a fight, drew his weapon with a grin. You summoned your Hydro vision, water swirling around you as you prepared to defend yourself.

The battle was fierce, the Abyss mages casting dark spells while you and Itto fought back with ferocity. In the midst of the chaos, a mage’s attack broke through your defenses, especially that you were trying to focus on your charged attack, the mage came through and as he was using the electro element it caused a reaction between you two and as much as you protected the side of your stomach was hurt badly, pain eating all your senses and crushing your stability, you fell into the ground holding where you were hurt while trying to recover fast before anything more happened.

“No!” Itto screamed as he was fighting the abyss Heralds , filled with rage and concern. He charged forward, dispatching the remaining enemies with a flurry of powerful serious blows on the contrary of his nature. When the last of the Abyss Order was defeated, he rushed to your side, worry etched on his face, his joyous usual unserious expression wiped of his face, he held your face looking for traces of life on it, and then he averted his gaze down where your holding yourself as he pushed your arms aside softly he saw the bruising and he felt a mix of complex emotions such as fury and worry and sadness.

“Hang in there, buddy,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.” he tried to smile to encourage you, he helped you get up but seeing how unstable you were although you were persistent on being okay, he lifted you in his arms in bridal style.

Itto carried you back to the city, his strength making the journey swift. He took you to a healer, staying by your side as they treated your wounds. Despite the pain, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging, knowing that you had a friend who would protect you no matter what, but at the same time you contemplated whether to ask the healer about the strange beating in your heart, but that wasn't a thing until Itto touched your face softly and it increased when he lifted you, is something wrong and is it because of the injury or what?

You wondered, you seemed out of it so he called out "you with us buddy?" As you came back to reality you looked at him bashfully as you cursed yourself at your strange actions right now, but you decided to brush it off.

"yeah, I'm okay don't worry"

;)

Alhaitham

The Akademiya was a distant memory, but its shadows still lingered in your life. You and Alhaitham had grown from rivals to reluctant allies, as y'all grew up and see it all as a silly past and just your time as teenagers, now sharing an apartment in Sumeru, y'all were close... Very close and everyone noticed that but only you two seemed oblivious that y'all acted like a married couple most of the time. Your role as a researcher kept you constantly on the move, and Alhaitham often joined you on these expeditions, his knowledge and analytical mind proving invaluable, you guys lived together because you didn't see a need to get a whole apartment for yourself if you're constantly here and there, and alhaitham didn't mind your company. He totally doesn't enjoy you being around and hopes for your researching to be in semuru most of the time, ooh you totally don't make his house feel like a home in addition to kaveh :P.

Once, his deep dark (?) wishes totally did become true and you were doing your job in semuru, surprisingly he was reading books in that field and decided to accompany you, according to him he has to see if the contenf of the books was reliable because they were old and there was little to no knowledge capsules about it, such journey led you deep into the Sumeru rainforest, where you were investigating the unique properties of the local flora. Alhaitham was beside you, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the jungle. As you meticulously cataloged your findings, an ominous rustling drew your attention.

Without warning, a band of treasure hoarders emerged, eyes gleaming with greed. They had heard rumors of your discoveries and wanted them for themselves, seeing them hurling in your direction Alhaitham reacted instantly, his Dendro vision activating as he created barriers to protect you both.

The fight was intense, with the treasure hoarders pressing their advantage. You used your Hydro vision to fend them off, and although it was a great combanation with alhaithams and created hyper blooms, they outnumbered y'all and only focused on you as a target so it was significantly hard to keep up, a well-aimed strike from a hoarder’s blade found its mark, cutting through your defenses and leaving a deep gash on your arm.

Alhaitham’s expression darkened, his usually composed features although he's not very expressive a visible fury was taking over his face, and instead of defences he harshly attacked. He dispatched the attackers with a series of precise, devastating blows. When the last of them lay defeated, he turned to you, his hands gentle as he inspected your wound.

“You should have been more careful,” he said, his voice tinged with a rare softness. “We need to get you treated immediately. Let's take you to tighnari and see what we can do, he's surely around the corner”

Despite the pain, you managed a weak smile. “You sound like you care.”

Alhaitham rolled his eyes, but his concern was evident. “Of course, I care. Let’s get back to the city.” he stopped your bleeding by wrapping a cloth tightly around your injured arm and in one swift motion he lifted you as if you were weightless.

The journey back was a blur, with Alhaitham supporting you every step of the way. Arriving at tighnari's, he meticulously treated your injury, alhaitham joining for help and to support you during the quick operation, his hands steady and sure. As you rested, you realized that beneath his aloof exterior, Alhaitham truly cared for you, a bond forged in the fires of shared adversity. You felt a blush coming and blooming in your cheeks and as the two showed concern you played it off ”ah, probably a fever, maybe that blade was infected?” but you shouldn't have said that, as now tighnari is going to run more tests and alhaitham is gonna be close for a longer time.

Or maybe it was for the best?

;)

kaveh

Life with Kaveh was never dull. The architect’s passion for his work often led him into interesting—and sometimes dangerous—situations. You, once rivals in the Akademiya, had grown close, now sharing an apartment (under the "mercy" of alhaitham) and frequently crossing paths in your respective careers, you were a researcher, and as one of kavehs greatest and closest friends, that only know about his living situation with alhaitham as you were the same although you payed your rent.

You often inspired him, by your findings and your journeys, you were like an long time open book helping him to never run out from inspiration, and in return he'd share his thoughts on the riddles and the origins of your findings, analyzing the patterns and all, and although y'all could just somehow catch alhaitham in a good mood and free and ask him, it was way fun and it was a great route of passing time.

One day, Kaveh was commissioned to deliver a custom design to a client in the bustling city of Port Ormos. Ever the perfectionist, he had poured his heart into the project, and you decided to accompany him for support. The sun was setting as you arrived at the meeting point, a shadowy alley that immediately put you on edge. You clenched your fist just in case, as your other hand held your sword in a way that wasn't visible for the other party, your vision dimly illuminating that Alley.

As Kaveh presented his work, the supposed clients revealed their true intentions. They were scammers, seeking to steal his designs and leave him empty-handed. Before he could react, they attacked, intent on taking everything.

Kaveh fought back with surprising tenacity, using his knowledge to his advantage in his fighting style. You summoned your Hydro vision, creating barriers of water to protect him. But in the chaos, and in your focus on their target, your dear friend, one of the scammers landed a blow on you instead, as they didn't care for who is the actual target and with who they were doing business, leaving you wounded.

“No!” Kaveh shouted, his eyes wide with fear and anger. He knocked the assailant away, his normally gentle demeanor replaced by fierce determination. “You’ll regret this!”

With a final, desperate push, you and Kaveh drove the scammers off. Panting and bloodied, Kaveh rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he checked your wound. “You’re hurt… I should have been more careful.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him, wincing as pain flared. “We need to get back and treat this.” he said.

Kaveh helped you to your feet, his support unwavering as you made your way back to the city. Once home, he carefully tended to your injury, his touch filled with guilt and concern. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I never wanted you to get hurt because of me.”

You reached out, taking his hand. “We’ve been through worse, Kaveh. I’m just glad we’re both okay.” you smiled lightly to reassure him, the injury wasn't that bad but he clearly felt guilty as he thought it was all because of him.

As the night wore on, the pain faded, replaced by the comforting presence of your very close friend. Kaveh’s usual cheer slowly returned, his worry giving way to relief. In that moment, you quietly admired him, how his hair framed his face ever so perfectly, how he smiled and reacted to alhaithams teasing, and how he gently tended to your needs and how soft his touch was on your skin, it seems like you're yet to figure out why you became so aware of everything concerning him, and the weird pace your heart is beating at, but you just thanked the dendro archon for the safety of everyone silently in your heart, as you tried to brush off the million thoughts that are running around in your head and took a glass of liquor to toast with your friends.

;)

Aurelia.

[lizhaoyu]

Nightowl's Birthday Special: Shadows and Snow

(A/N: Welcome to my Birthday Special Fanfiction~ How are you guys doing? My birthday was on August 10! I know, I'm months late. But I hope you guys still enjoy this fanfiction nonetheless.)

(I gave the reader ice abilities, and Iso some shadow abilities because imagining Iso with shadow abilities makes me cum. I know. It will probably make you too.)

GN!Reader x Iso

TW: Obsession (I love the obsession trope. It's my birthday special, so I decided to make it my favorite trope. I made the reader SUPER COOL and SUPER NONCHALANT at first because why not.)

The streets were alive with chaos. Explosions shook the ground, and gunfire echoed in every corner. The enemy had unleashed their most dangerous weapon, and the mission seemed doomed.

Amid the chaos, you moved like a ghost. Your ice-coated boots barely made a sound through the broken remains of a building, your eyes scanning every shadow.

Suddenly, a movement caught your attention. A figure darted through the smoke, fast and fluid. But something was off. The way they stumbled. You grip your Vandal tighter and creep forward.

Just as you were about to turn a corner, you heard a groan. You peer through the smoke and debris and see him—Iso. The notorious agent, known for his ability to manipulate shadows and disappear at will, was on his knees, bleeding from a deep gash on his side.

You froze. You heard about him. The lone wolf. The assassin who never worked with anyone. But right now, Iso didn't look invincible. He looked human. And vulnerable.

Without a second thought, you rush to his side. You crouch next to him, your hands glowing faintly with ice energy as you press them to his wound, slowing the bleeding.

Iso's eyes snapped open, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun, but his vision blurred as he recognized the figure kneeling beside him.

"It's you..." he rasped, barely able to form words.

"Stay still," you command, your voice cold but steady as your icy powers worked to freeze the blood long enough for him to heal. "You're lucky I found you."

You ignore the comment, focusing on stabilizing him. Iso watched you work, fascinated by the contrast of your delicate hands and the deadly power you wield.

Something was mesmerizing about your calm under pressure. As you work, the world seems to fade away in Iso's eyes. He found himself staring, the pain in his side forgotten for a moment.

You glanced at him. "You'll live, but you owe me one."

Iso chuckled, though it was cut short by the pain. "I don't... like owing people."

"You'll get over it." You scoff, standing up.

-

The mission was somehow completed. Both you and Iso had made it out alive, though barely. Days later, back at base, Iso couldn't get you out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you — the way your icy powers had flowed through your hands with such precision, the way you had saved him without hesitation.

It gnawed at him. He wasn't used to needing anyone, let alone being saved by someone.

He found himself wandering the halls of the base, looking for you. Obsessing over his and your encounter, replaying it over and over again. He knew he should be focusing on his recovery, on the next mission, but you had become a fixation.

He wanted to understand — this mysterious person who had appeared in his life at his most vulnerable moment.

When he finally found you, you were in the training room, perfecting your aim. Your breath was steady, your movements fluid as you fired shot after shot with pinpoint accuracy. Iso watched from the shadows, his haze never leaving you.

"You always watch from the dark, or are you planning on saying something this time?" Your voice broke the silence, your eyes never leaving your target.

Iso smirked, stepping into the light. "You noticed."

"I always notice," You replied coolly, finally turning to face him. "What do you want?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that. He wasn't used to wanting anything from anyone. But this... this was different.

"You saved me," he said after a pause, his voice low. "I don't forget things like that."

You tilt your head slightly, your expression unreadable. "You're welcome."

There was a moment of silence. Iso, normally quick with a retort, found himself at a loss for words. His obsession with you was growing by the minute, and he didn't understand it. All he knew was that he needed to be near you. To figure you out. To see if the ice-cold interior you showed to the world was real, or if there was something more beneath it.

You sense his inner turmoil, narrowing your eyes. "You're not used to people helping you, are you?"

Iso clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "No."

"Then stop following me around," You say bluntly, turning back to your target. "I'm not one of your shadows."

Your words stung, but Iso wasn't deterred. Instead, they fueled his obsession. He wanted to know why you had saved him, why you had chosen to help someone like him.

And more than that, he wanted to understand your identity behind the ice.

-

Over the next few weeks, Iso's fixation on you only deepened. He found excuses to train with you, to be in the same missions, always watching you, always drawn to the cold precision in which you operated. You intrigued him in a way no one ever had, and that both frustrated and thrilled him.

You, for your part, remained as distant as ever, though you couldn't deny the strange pull you felt towards Iso. He was reckless, unpredictable, and everything you usually despised in a teammate. Yet, there was something about the way he looked at you, the intensity in his gaze, that made you pause.

It wasn't long before Iso's obsession became undeniable, even to him.

One night, after a particularly grueling mission, Iso cornered you in the empty hallways of the base. His eyes, dark and intense, more into yours as he finally voiced the thoughts that had been consuming him.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed, his voice rough. "You saved me. And now... I can't stay away."

Your heart raced, though your expression remained calm. "You're confusing gratitude with something else."

"No," Iso growled, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's more than that."

You met his gaze, ice meeting shadow, and for the first time, you didn't have a quick reply. The tension between them crackled, and the lines between the mission and obsession blurred.

Iso's expression darkened, his hand gently brushing your arm. "I don't want to conquer you. I just want... to understand."

You pulled away, your eyes cold and conflicted. "Then stop trying so hard."

But as you walked away, Iso knew it was too late. He was already too deep. And somehow, he sensed that beneath your icy walls, you were just as trapped in this dangerous game as he was.

-

The tension between you and Iso grew thicker with each passing day, yet something in you had begun to shift. Where once Iso's constant presence had felt suffocating, now it was... familiar. You could sense him before he entered a room, always lurking in the shadows, waiting, watching.

It was unnerving, yes, but there was a strange comfort in his obsession.

You had always been alone, used to standing apart from the others. Your ice powers isolated you, both physically and emotionally. Most of your teammates respected you, but none dared to come too close.

Until Iso.

At first, you tolerated his fixation, thinking it would pass. But now you begin to wonder if, in some twisted way, Iso understood you. He wasn't afraid of the cold, the distance. He wasn't put off by your silence or the walls you kept around yourself.

Instead, he seemed drawn to it, captivated by your very detachment.

It wasn't long before you stopped pushing him away.

-

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you were sitting in the quiet of your room, your mind replaying the events of the day. You had barely noticed Iso slipping into the room, as silent as a shadow, until he was standing in front of you.

"You shouldn't be here," you said, though your tone lacked its usual sharpness.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his dark, intense gaze. You knew you should tell him to leave, set boundaries, and stop this before it spiraled further.

But something inside you couldn't. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the mission or the loneliness that had been creeping into your heart for far too long.

"You're obsessed with me," you say simply, but without accusation.

Iso didn't deny it. "I am."

"And you're not going to stop, are you?"

He shook his head, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "No."

You leaned back in your chair, studying him. The old you—the you that had thrived on isolation—would have iced him out long ago. But something about Iso's unwavering devotion had worn you down. Maybe it was the intensity, the way he never faltered in his obsession.

Or maybe it was that part of you, the part that you tried so hard to keep frozen, that longed for connection.

"You're a fool," you said softly.

Iso knelt in front of you, his gaze never leaving yours. "Maybe. But I'm your fool."

You felt a small, almost imperceptible crack in the ice around your heart. You should have stopped this—should have pulled away before it became something darker, something dangerous.

But instead, you let him stay. His presence was suffocating, yes, but it was also strangely comforting. He was there, always there, and for once, you didn't feel completely alone.

You didn't speak as Iso reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against your cold skin. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine, though you kept your face composed.

"I can't stay away from you," Iso whispered, his voice raw with need. "I don't want to."

Your eyes flicked to his, your usual icy exterior melting just a fraction. "Then don't."

For the first time, you let him in. Just a little. It wasn't love, not yet, but it was something—something that tugged at the cold, hard edges of your soul. Iso's obsession was dark, unhealthy even, but there was a part of you that welcomed it, needed it. Maybe you had been in the cold for too long.

Iso smiled, a rare softness in his features as he realized what just happened. You had accepted him, accepted his obsession. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "I'll always be here."

"I know," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

For better or for worse, you had let Iso in. You knew it wouldn't be easy, knowing that his fixation on you was more dangerous than he let on. But for now, you had let yourself sink into the darkness of it, letting the shadows close in around you both.

For the first time in a long time, you weren't entirely alone.

-

(A/N: How was this? Thank you for the support, everyone! Obsession is one of my favorite tropes, and I hope you guys like this one too.)

[fuedalreesespieces]

one of their downtimes in the present after school, kagome braids inuyasha's hair (twins, french, dutch, etc.) while they watch magical girl anime. inuyasha is surprisingly into it (the anime and having his hair played with)

oh, you are so right about this.

.

.

.

"So he's the other guy?"

Kagome's fingers raked through his hair, parting it in two. He had no idea what she was doing, but it felt nice. So nice, in fact, that his attention was starting to wane from the television screen in front of him, if that was possible.

"Sort-of," Kagome amended, bringing a comb to the right side of his hair. Silver locks spilled down his shoulders, brushing against the enormous bowl of potato chips they shared. "He's kinda like a vessel for him, but he doesn't know it."

"Geez," Inuyasha grumbled. "All that power and he doesn't even know it exists."

Kagome let out an airy laugh. On screen, the boy called Yukito transformed into Yue. The bright colors fascinated him just as much as the feeling of Kagome's hands carding through his hair. He didn't quite get the concept of animation until she made him an example and even then, that simple jumping ball she'd created was leagues away from...whatever this was.

How did this even get on the screen, anyway? He'd suspected there was someone trapped in the back, but the box was much too tiny for even a kit like Shippo, and it was all clogged up with tangled wires. She'd explained the broadcasting system to him, but he still didn't understand how waves could translate to pictures. Eventually he'd given up on working out the concept, and his confusion never kept him from settling under her gentle hands and letting the story unfold in front of them.

She'd called it anime, a category for the style of art and animation used in the show they were watching, and Inuyasha had to admit it was wildly entertaining. Convoluted plots be damned, the fights were terribly engaging. Sota had told him that the sort of shows Kagome dragged him into were called magical girl anime, and which thereafter prompted a giggle from the younger boy. Inuyasha didn't quite get the joke, if there was one to be had. The way he saw it, the magical girls were just like the metal golems ("Mechs," Sota had corrected him) in the things Sota liked to watch - albeit better dressed.

On screen, Yue spoke, voice eerily cold compared to his counterpart. A chill ran down Inuyasha's spine. "He looks like Sesshomaru," he muttered.

Kagome finished one his braids and peered over his ears, her chin digging into his shoulder as she leaned in to see what she'd missed. "You know...I haven't really thought about it, but he sort of does. Minus the angel wings, of course." At Inuyasha's bark of laughter, she inched closer and smirked. "Think he'd make a good magical girl?"

An image of Sesshomaru wearing a skirt seemed to enter their minds at the same time, and upon making eye contact, they both collapsed in a fit of laughter. "Evil," he said between breaths, "absolutely fuckin' evil, what you just said."

"I was merely asking a question," she said innocently, her grin wicked. "But now that I think about it, I think you'd fit in better than him."

"Me?" he said incredulously.

"Why not? You've got a weapon-"

"A massive sword, not a magic wand-"

"-transformations-"

"One of 'em is useless and the other kills people-"

"You are not useless," she said immediately. "You're wonderful just as you are."

He was thankful the room was dark. "Kagome-"

"All you really need," she said, "is a change of clothes. Have you ever even been out of the Fire Rat?"

He scoffed. "Why should I? It's my armor. Why, you suggestin' I wear your clothes?" His attention returned to the television, where Yue was drawing an arrow back, but Kagome's ridiculous smile quickly emerged in his vision. She'd finished his hair and had come to sit beside him, fiddling with one of the two braids she'd done.

"Well...I do have an old school uniform-"

"No."

"Oh, come on, Inuyasha! Please?"

"I'm not wearing one of your skirts!" he shouted, face as bright as a plucked tomato.

"But I just finished your hair!"

"And what the hell does that have to do with it?"

"You would look good, I promise!" she assured. "Nobody's around."

"Your entire family is in the house, Kagome."

"And I'm sure they would all support your decision to finally be the magical girl you were born to be."

He rolled his eyes and twisted his head so she couldn't tempt him with that smile of hers. "You're crazy."

She slipped into his view and batted her eyelashes. "For me?"

"Woman, if you don't-"

"Please, Inuyasha?"

He told himself not to look. Her voice alone couldn't tempt him. He thought of happy things in his mind, like ramen, or cooked steak, but the image of her sad, droopy eyes kept tainting the images, and when he eventually cracked one eye open, she was still kneeling in front of him, hands clasped and wide, grey eyes lit up like silver by the artificial light of the television. The decision to keep staring at her, like a stubborn fool, damned him. She had him wrapped around her finger the second he chose not to close his eyes - or perhaps he'd been doomed to agree from the start.

Either way, all paths lead to him wearing the skirt.

"Oh my god," Kagome whispered. "Oh my god."

"Shut up," he snapped. The waistline was too tight, but he'd somehow managed it. The outfit he wore was simply a spare uniform she had stashed away in case hers was ripped up in the feudal realm, but she insisted that plenty magical girls wore similar clothing (did the schools purposefully let their girls dress up as magical girls?) At her request, he'd worn a pair of elbow length gloves, boots, and "Happy?"

"Oh, Inuyasha," she sighed, and his face turned another shade of red. "You have no idea."

[gold-rhine]

Which "version" of Diluc, or combination of them, do you prefer?

neither. i said repeatedly, that to me, Diluc is a Crimson Heir of Signora and a redhead witch that is tempted by the devil, trapped in a body of a catholic paladin wet owl

but sadly most ppl are not enlightened and don't understand my vision, so i'll explain it. Diluc and Signora see the world as filled with evil, which they want to fight, but feel like their own's strength is not enough bc darkness is too vast. but they were both disillusioned by authorities they believed in (archon protection for signora, father and knights for Diluc), so they don't reach out to other people to fight together.

instead, they take their helpless rage and grief and immolate themselves in it to become a living weapon. they know this is bad and monstrous, but also like, this is the only time when they can feel anything bc they're dissociating for rest of the time. for signora it's shown through cryo delusion as metaphor of covering her burning fire in cold to hide it and she only becomes herself when she uses her fire. for diluc, he is keeping up his facade of calm and collected nobleman most of the time, and only has access to the emotions he's bottling inside when he's letting them out in a literal fire burst while yelling BURN!!

they are also incredibly self-righteous, have v black and white view of the world and very short sided.

so, with all this, they both believe they are fighting for right cause (signora didn't harm innocents when she turned into crimson witch btw), but they think they are forced to use corrupting power and they kinda see it as martyring themselves for the cause bc someone has to be the flaming sword against the darkness, but also subconsciously they crave it bc this is the only way to access repressed emotions, this is only time when they are "allowed" to feel rage and grief, when they are making it useful. this is what i mean by redhead witch, tempted by the devil - diluc wants more power bc he feels helpless, recognizes that this power would be corrupting, so sees it as forbidden, but is tempted nonetheless, and at the same time, he is keeping up the stoic aristocrat dissociative façade. He is not a traditional "fallen" paladin, his disillusionment with the authorities didn't lead him to evil, but to radically different methods of fighting evil. Crimson Witch is at heart about the righteous using Hellfire to fight the darkness.

this is the version of diluc i find interesting and bc hoyo lost their custody of diluc due to bad writing i explained before, i don't have to worry about anything they do in canon bc it doesn't count:)

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 20: The Confessional II

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Din has left it all too late as his fears are realised.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, Mo blood, injured Reader, Hurt/Comfort (if I have ever written a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic in my life, it’s this chapter), lots of feelings.

A/N: We're nearly there, omg. Every single one of you who's joined me on this journey and let me know you're enjoying this story, you're SO wonderful. Thanks for reading!

--

Din rips at your flight harness, nearly pulling it from the seat in the effort to get you up. He shouts your name but you’re limp and silent, lifeless. Grogu watches with wide horrified eyes as Din hauls you, limbs dangling, into his arms. 

He yells to R5 to keep the ship on an even keel.

‘Grogu. With me. We need. Lay her down.’ He grunts out the words in stuttered bursts of breath, moving to the door.

‘Pah!’ Still in his pod, the baby unbuckles to follow the hulking shape of Din carrying you through the cockpit, dropping into the hold, across to the cabin. He floats into the cabin behind the frantic Mandalorian and your unconscious form, hovering nervously and murmuring as his father lays you down before turning to him. 

Din lifts Grogu from the pod.

He settles the child next to you, by your hip so his little hands are just in reach of the wound, and seats himself on your other side – framing you between the two of them. He takes out a small knife and slices away your leather tunic to expose the short metal object that Grogu spotted when you had leaned back in your cockpit chair. It is pulsing with a low hum and the skin around the foreign object is riddled with gooseflesh. Sweat pools across the plains of your abdomen and in the hollow of your neck. You shudder. 

‘Grogu,’ Din hovers above you both. He takes one, steadying breath. ‘I need you to be strong for her now.’ 

He points to the small hilt sticking from your middle. Grogu murmurs, gazing between it and Din with unease.

‘This is a phase blade,’ he explains. ‘It is an ultrafine weapon that a war trooper must have slipped in when she was fighting. She would have barely noticed it going in, but now it is buried deep and is making her bleed inside her body. Do you understand what I mean by that, Grogu?’

‘Ebbe?’

‘It’s hurting her inside her body where we can’t see. And if I start to pull it from her, it will activate an energy field that is going to make it worse, more bleeding, more damage inside of her.’

His voice cracks for a moment. He blinks back tears from behind his helmet, seeing the charts on his vision array showing your staccato heart rate and plunging BP blur and distort. He shakes his head and focuses on the child’s face. 

‘It’s designed that way, d’you understand?’ he goes on. ‘They use it to kill even after a battle ends. It’s impossible to remove without killing her.’

Grogu gives a little wail of despair, leaning into your limp form.

‘But y’can save her, buddy.’

‘Eeeh?’ Din’s son gives him a disbelieving look. He really doesn’t know - how powerful he is?

‘Remember Greef Karga?’ he says, leaning closer to the tiny child. ‘Remember the creature’s attack on Navarro? You saved him. You can save her.’

From where you lay, you convulse slightly and thick blood oozes across your hip and onto the bed. Your chest rises in shallow, hyperventilating breaths. His voice gets urgent.

‘You’re stronger now than you were then, so much stronger. You can do this. As I draw out the blade… heal her as it goes. Make the bleeding and the hurt stop. Can you do that?’ 

The baby’s ears twitch as he looks up to where your head lays lolled on its side. He looks terrified.

‘Please, kid,’ the desperation in Din’s voice pulls Grogu’s eyes back to him. ‘Please, you have to do this, I need h—’

Fuck, take a breath, Fuck.

‘I need you to try your best.’

Grogu seems to steel himself. He reaches out and presses both hands to your entry wound. Din takes the petite hilt of the blade in hand and braces a forearm against your ribcage. He watches as the child closes both gigantic eyes and focuses, tilting his head progressively up and up like he’s summoning the universe to him. Din observes his breathing pick up and his little forehead scrunch tight. 

‘Ehhhhh,’ Grogu looks pained, straining. His little mouth opens and closes a few times before settling into a hard frown. Then, without opening his eyes, he gives one tiny resolute nod.

Din takes a long breath in and counts… three, two…  

He pulls.

‘Hhhhrrrrrngh!’ You wail and arch off the mattress, pushing into Din’s forearm with a surprising force. He leans forward to put more weight on you and grips the blade tighter. It’s barely moved a millimetre but you and Grogu are both shaking violently. 

Just keep going. Stay steady.

Another pull and hot crimson spurts from the wound, splashing across the view of his visor. You jerk as if struck, arching again. His grip slips off the hilt. Panic rises. He feels like he might black out. Flushing hot and cold, the air in his lungs turning icy and his blood setting to boil.

Furious regret tears at him. Worlds, curse him. He’s wasted so much time. Holding onto the hurt, onto the shame, and the anger. Why? Why couldn’t he have let go sooner. Why couldn’t he have just talked to you. If he’d just tried. Just understood you better.

Fucking focus.

Retaking the handle, he channels everything down to his hand and the blade. It’s not you he’s killing right now; it’s just his hand and this blade. That’s all it is. His hand, this blade, he chants it over and over as more of the quivering weapon comes free.

His hand, this blade. His hand, this blade. His hand, this cursed, evil, fucking, going to kill his--

The weapon draws out, deactivating the second it breaks contact with flesh. Din hurls it into a med tin and shakes his hand, as if to get the menace off him. He looks back to you, reads your still sporadic vitals. Your lips are white and you’re puffing hard through clenched teeth. Your wound is still leaking blood. Too much blood.

He’s on the verge of weeping. But he concentrates instead on Grogu, whose claws are sunk deep into your skin as he continues shaking and grunting. The child is giving everything he has. 

Din Djarin looks between the two of you. His whole fucking world. He’s losing a part of it. Maybe for good this time. He’s been so foolish. 

Fresh tears come. His vision shifts out of focus and, instead of your two quivering bodies, he sees the spray of blood across his visor. Your blood. A wretched reminder of how tortured he’s been since you returned. Empty while you were gone, he’s been on fire from the moment you looked at him as you stood at that damned forge saying you’d fight for them. Each time he’d watched you from afar, desperate to go to you but drilled to the spot, it burned. His desire to see you, to actually see you. 

It’s time. It might be too damn late, but it’s time. 

He reaches and pulls his helmet up, off. Deposits it over you onto the bed. He sits back and puts a hand to Grogu’s back and the other to your uninjured side, drawing the two of you together, holding you as close as he is able.

Whatever happens, he needs to hold you both close, for as long as he can.

‘Come on, Grogu,’ Din leans in. ‘You can do this, you can. You’re so strong, stronger than any—’

Grogu gives a long pained sigh of effort and flops forward, head resting next to the spot where – thank all the worlds – your wound has closed over into a puckered, angry looking scar. Your breathing is evening out and you slowly come to stillness.

Even as the child lays there wheezing, the wound continues to lighten and shrink, the connection between you and he potent and enduring.

Din becomes aware of his own hammering heart, his staggered breathing. Sighing out every ounce of fear and panic that had consumed him these past few minutes, he looks at you. 

He gives himself a moment to take you in. Traces the side profile of your face where your head has turned away. Relishes in the way your eyelashes flutter, and your lower lip quivers a little. The way you’re breathing more normally with each passing moment. 

He gives himself a moment to think about the colour of your eyes, wonders if his visor’s vision array has ever truly conveyed their beauty.

Then he gives his son a reassuring pat.

Grogu’s eyes slip open and he looks at his father in wonder. Din smiles.

--

It’s so much pain. 

Great crumbling walls of it. Savage spikes impaling your very core. You fall back away from it, toward some dense murky nothingness. That’s what you’re aiming for – just for the relief – when something else reaches down and wraps around you. A coil of earnest embrace. A branch of tender love. It takes hold and gives a single strong entreaty. Come back. As it strengthens its hold, the excruciation eases. The agony releases.

And so you turn back.

Push through a dense fog, swim back to consciousness. It feels endless. White haze claws at you, but the warm light waits not far away. You drag yourself to it. It takes effort. So much effort. You have to call on the weary presence within you to rise up, haul on it like a rope out of there. Reaching, grasping, breaking the surface tension with a long, strained inhale.

The first thing you sense is Din’s voice.

‘Sshh, cyar’ika,’ he’s whispering. ‘That’s it, take it slow. There’s no hurry.’

You hear yourself groan then. Feel filtered cabin air settle on your skin. Smell earthy sweat and the tang of blood, and under those something achingly known. More out of curiosity than any desire to expose them to light, you blink one eye open a little, then the other. And then you feel confusion. Because through blurred eyesight, what you see makes no sense. With your head rolled to the side, you’re looking at the unoccupied half of the bed. Except it’s not totally unoccupied.

Maybe you haven’t woken up, after all.

Din’s helmet rests on the blankets. Empty and cold, no life behind the visor. 

You sense him sitting on your other side. Hear his steady inhales and exhales, clear and unmodulated. Feel the heat of his thigh pressed into your side. 

‘Din?’ you say, voice croaky and weak, still staring at the lone helmet. You can’t bring yourself to move, to turn. You can only raise a shaky hand to press a finger to the cool metal. A flood of feeling at the contact you’ve ached for, you trace over it, follow the streak of dried blood spattered there. Draw a thumb down the high arch of its side. A caress you’ve longed for.

‘I’m here,’ he says.

‘You’re not…’ Still looking at the helmet. You notice his gloves and gauntlets also discarded on the bed. ‘You’re…’

‘It’s okay,’ he says, throaty and barely above a whisper. ‘You can look.’

‘Are you,’ you struggle to keep tears from blurring your sight even more. Blink hard to clear them, hiss in a breath. ‘Are you s- sure?’

The sensation of two fingers gently pressing to your cheek makes you gasp. If you weren’t already lying down, you’re sure you’d collapse. You screw your eyes shut again as, with a tender push, he tilts your head to turn to him. 

He sighs, pulls his hand away. ‘Please,’ he rasps. ‘Let me see you.’

Come on, you tell yourself. This is all you’ve ever wanted.

So you focus where you think his hands will be, likely resting in his lap. You blink a little when you see them there – those strong, capable hands. Thick fingers, veins tracing over knuckles, over his wrists, and up to where his forearm disappears into a sleeve. You follow that up to one shoulder, dart from it across to the other. No pauldrons. Land in between. No cuirass. 

In your peripheral vision, above the chest you’re staring hard at, you register dark hair framing indistinct features. Dark hair you already know to curl around his ears and fan over his forehead, from touching him blind and from that one scant glimpse before the battle. You’d been so eager then. So desperate. And now…

He murmurs your name. ‘Look at me, please.’

Tracing the line of his neck, the edge of his jaw, you sweep your eyes up to meet Din’s. 

A plush lower lip purses just a little, as he releases a breath like he’d held it his whole life. You struggle to breathe at all, drinking in the glorious sight. Lungs burn as you slot each tiny detail into the image in your head. There’s so much to take in, but his eyes… My gods, his eyes.

Deep, and dark, and bottomless. They match his voice so perfectly, that velvety timbre you know so well, you’re amazed you hadn’t known their hue and tone all along.

He gazes back, absorbing you. Irises like onyx marbles roll over your face, opening you up and exposing you completely. Tears start to threaten you again just from the sheer overwhelming sensation of making eye contact with Din.

‘Mmm, weh,’ a gentle murmur pierces the spell, has you glancing down.

‘Baby, hey,’ you whisper to Grogu, who’s tucked into your hip squinting up at you. You prop yourself on an elbow. ‘Oh, you look so tired. Why aren’t you resting?’

‘He’s been waiting,’ Din says, drawing your eyes back to his, where you struggle not to get lost in their fathoms again. Gods, this is the face of the Gods. ‘To make sure you’re alright.’

You look back to the child, whose own huge eyes blink languidly. You can see the effort he’s making to keep them open. You remember then, what he did. Grogu reaching for you as you sunk into a murky oblivion. Giving you the life raft to let you drag your way back. Saving you.

‘Hey, kiddo,’ you reach over and let him take hold of a forefinger with his little claw. Enclose it with a thumb. ‘See? I’m okay now. I’m okay.’

‘Emm?’

‘Yeah, you did good. You can rest now. Thank you.’

Grogu gives a lazy nod of his head, exhaling and cooing to the two of you. He pushes himself up and moves toward his pod, tentative little steps and huffs of air until he’s seated comfortably among the blankets. Pawing at the controls, he drifts out of the cabin and you listen for the shift of his hatch, open and then close.

Moving the hand he’d grasped to rest on your stomach, you feel it. Raised skin, threaded and uneven. Fingers trace back and forth over the new scar.

‘What was that? What happened to me?’ you ask, gazing up at the man sitting beside you, at his soft mouth, his sharp nose, his knit-together brow – his gorgeous features. 

A shadow crosses them as Din leans down and picks up a little metal tray. A tiny hilt with no blade rattles inside it. He lets you get a look at it before tossing it back on the floor like it’s tainted. You suppose it is.

‘Fuck,’ you huff an exhale, lean back. ‘Dicey.’

‘That would be putting it fucking mildly,’ he says, glaring at the offending weapon. How had you failed to notice a damned phase blade? When did it even happen? What would have happened to you if Din hadn’t— If he hadn’t been with you? You pull in a long breath of air.

‘How many times is it you’ve saved my life now?’ you ask. 

Eyes so soft and deep lock onto yours. You’re not prepared. They’re so expressive, you can read every single ounce of feeling in them. Longing, and fear, and some deep sad pain that breaks you wide open right from your chest.

The swell of emotion rises so swift it chokes you and slurs your words. But you force them out. As fast as you’re able over the short shallow panting that starts ramping up a staccato beat.

‘I’m sorry,’ you gasp. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Gods. Din, I’m so- s- I—'

He’s leaning in, head shaking just a little.

‘I was scared,’ you push on, words bursting out over rising sobs. It’s been too much. It’s been too long. ‘I was just so fucking sc- scared. And confused. And like I was just lost? I’m sorry, fuh, ah, I’m so--’

‘Stop,’ he speaks over you. ‘Stop, please.’ 

But you can’t. You can’t stop. The dam you’ve been straining against dissolves into a torrent. Chest heaving and hands shaking, you scrunch your eyes shut and weep.

It’s when Din bends forward and takes your face in his hands, swipes a thumb over a tear-streaked cheek and whispers, ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ that you still. At the sound of your name, murmured and desperate, you open your eyes to see his own just inches away.

‘I understand,’ he says, looking right through you, brows pulled in and expression pleading. ‘I understand now.’

He holds you there for a long, agonising stretch. Faces so close your breaths merge, brush against the cooling moisture on your skin. It’s when your mouth parts just a little, and his gaze drops there for a second, that he seems to return to himself and sits back.

Bereft for a moment, caught off guard by how just a few moments of his touch has your body thrumming, you stay quiet. You lay still and watch him gather himself, readying his words. You know this posture, know what it looks like when he’s preparing to open up. The added details of his jaw working and forehead creasing in contemplation are not lost on you – in fact, they put your heart in your throat. Yet still, in this moment, you have no idea what he’s going to say. 

Sure enough, his words take you out.

‘A while ago,’ he says. ‘Through a misstep in fate, I possessed a weapon that could have allowed me to rule Mandalore. As Bo-Katan does now.’

This out-of-nowhere revelation has you asking before you can think, ‘Why didn’t you? Why aren’t you?’

‘Well, among many other reasons,’ he makes a gesture like politics and such. With a head tilt you know well, you nearly die to learn it comes with a single eyebrow arched high in sardonic humour. You feel giddy, but keep still and listen. ‘It was… heavy,’ he continues, expression dropping to neutral again. ‘Too heavy. Being a part of my Covert is about belonging. But this was something different. I did not have the want to carry that weight. To be pulled down. Bound.’

The word pierces right through your chest. ‘Bound?’

It’s a tiny squeak, the way you say it. Bursting out of you as you see him in all new light. Familiar light. He moves a hand over you to touch your forearm, strokes there in comfort – a reflex that he doesn’t seem to make note of. It makes your skin sing. 

‘Mmhm,’ he says, looking at you. ‘The thing you fear? I understand it. I should’ve understood it all along, but I was blinded by—’ He cuts himself off, swallows hard. 

‘Anyway, I am sorry for that,’ he says, whispering your name again. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

You’re trying to find the words to say he has nothing to be sorry for. To tell him you’d carried remorse and guilt with you across most of the galaxy. That you’d do anything to go back to before that cursed day and talk to him. Tell him these things before it had all become too late. But he continues before you can. 

‘And I’m sorry that I have been… since you got here, that I’ve…’

‘It’s okay,’ you say, when you see him struggling to keep going.

‘It’s not,’ he says. ‘It’s not okay, I was just- Shit, I was just so furious…’

‘I know,’ you murmur, ready to accept this and beg forgiveness. ‘I know you were angry with me, and, and I underst—’

‘I wasn’t angry with you,’ he interrupts.

‘But I- I hurt you so badly, I--’ you say, unable to believe him. Tears encroach again. ‘And- and I was here and you weren’t, and I didn’t know if you’d ever speak to me again, and I--' 

‘I was hurting, that’s true,’ he says, warm hand continuing its motions on your arm. It hasn’t stopped for one second. ‘But so were you. And I wasn’t angry with you.’

‘What?’

He leans the elbow of the arm not caressing yours on a knee, shifts a little closer. Drawing a deep breath to speak, he gives you another wounded look. An intense wave of gooseflesh ripples over you.

‘You being here,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t stand it.’

You must look fit to break because he rushes on. 

‘You being here, in danger. From the moment you stood in front of everyone and said you’d fight, I’ve been,’ he drags a hand through mussed curls, searches for words, ‘drowning, in fury and fear. When you told us your plan for the walker… Fuck-- I was livid.’

Paying attention to the tender muscles in your abdomen, you nudge yourself upright. Shuffle a little until you’re sitting up facing him, drawn in by what he’s saying.

‘That’s what you were angry about?’ you ask. ‘That I came back to fight?’

He shakes his head. ‘I was angry that you were risking your life. That you wanted to fight our battles. That they were letting you. After what I did? How I let you go?’

Din stops there for a moment, works his jaw some more and swallows like he’s trying to not choke. Grips your arm hard. He looks tortured.

‘I should never have let it get to that moment by the forge, that day you left,’ he whispers, voice tight and just under control. ‘But I wasn’t, wasn’t paying attention. I was so afraid… The idea of you in a war that wasn’t yours to fight… All I could think about was how I could protect you. If I even could.’ 

His eyes are glossy as they stare over your shoulder. Your fingers itch to touch him. ‘And when you did run… I thought at least, at least you’d be safer that way.’ 

Din takes a sharp hiss through clenched teeth.

‘But I was a fool,’ he says. ‘To not realise that whether you had run that day or not, you still would have ended up here, because of your bravery, and loyalty. Because of me. And I couldn’t stop it-- I couldn’t-- Fuck.' He lets go of you to drop his head into both hands. ‘And you almost just fucking died, right here-- All my fears were—'

This time you’re the one reaching out, clutching at arms and wrists and trying to shush and still him. You lift his head and you’re inches apart again. You mutter at him to look at you, look right here, I’m okay … Just look. I’m here.

He sighs hard and stares. Tears shining in the corners of his eyes, they shift back and forth across your face. Your fingers tingle where they dig into his hair. Heart thunders. A white hot current crackles through your arms and across your chest, sends sparks up the back of your neck. 

‘I’m here,’ you say again, voice breaking only a little.

‘You’re here,’ he whispers back. As he calms, clenched jaw relaxing, he leans into one of your palms. Just a little, without breaking eye contact. Although you do see, for the barest second, a soft pink tongue dart out to swipe his lower lip.

But he doesn’t move, just keeps looking at you – waiting for you to choose what to do next.

It’s not that you don’t want to keep holding him like this, to pull him closer, wrap yourself around him entirely. Not let go. It’s not that you wouldn’t give anything in the galaxy to simply press your forehead to his, nudge his nose with yours, press your mouth to—

It’s just that you’re on a threshold you’re not yet ready to step over. There’s things you want to say first. Answers you still need. Somehow, doubt there still about whether he wants the same thing.

So you pull back. Not much. Just enough to bring his features into focus again. Drop your hands to rest between you. He seems to will himself to relax and settle back as well, understanding the air between you is a volatile thing, and you should move forward carefully.

Into the silence, picking at the covers on the bed, you do let a little insecurity out. Just let yourself say it.

‘Well, here for as long as I’m allowed to be anyway,’ you mumble, hoping it conveys the question you’re too afraid to ask. Can I stay?

Din doesn’t say anything at first, but his eyes roam over you and you have to fight not to squirm under his gaze. Not react to the heat it’s building within you.

He moves a hand to you again and that heat flares. But rather than touching you, he lands it on the armour guard still clipped to your shoulder. A piece of the set the Armourer had had made for you.

‘You have come to be more accepted here than you realise,’ he says. You sense his thumb tracing back and forth over a specific spot, a tender caress. Tilting your head to the side to try to see, you can just make out a scorched tear where an enemy weapon must have grazed over the leather – and the dark grey steel underneath it.

‘What?’ You move your hand across as Din fluidly unclasps the piece so you can take hold of it and get a proper look.

Cradling it, you gaze up in disbelief. 

‘Beskar?’

‘Mmhm,’ he affirms. You look back down, draw your own thumb over the split to feel the cold bite of sacred steel.

‘I don’t understand.’ Tears prickle your eyes. One falls to land on Din’s thumb where it has come to rest over yours. He palms it into a fist, draws it back.

‘You will,’ he replies, voice soft. ‘Soon. There’s things for you to know, when we return to the Covert.’

His tone draws you from the shoulder piece back to his face – he’s nervous, hesitant, trying to not spook the wild thing before him.

The you of several months ago would have let what he just said set you on a panic spiral. Let it burrow into all your insecurities and trauma. Let it put a wall around you.

But the you of right now fends it off, reminding yourself that the price was just too damn high. The cost of giving in to fear and paranoia would end up destroying you. You know this now. Just trust him, you tell yourself. Remember what he said. Just be patient.

So you give a nod, an acknowledgement that you’ll wait to learn more. He relaxes a little.

Still, you have to work to not fret about what’s to come. So in the quiet that follows, your mind wanders back to the battle instead. Scenes and snippets dance across your consciousness. One thing jumps out at you, and you blurt it out.

‘Hey, why’d your jetpack cut out?’ you ask. He starts at your sudden turn in this conversation, but goes with it.

He looks embarrassed though. ‘Um, that’s…’ he mumbles, rubs palms together. ‘It’s only really powerful enough to carry just the one… person.’

‘Ah, too much weight?’ you ask.

At his chagrined look, a short laugh bursts out of you – breathy and full of relief. In response, Din smiles, with lips curving and teeth showing. The sight punches the air from your lungs.

‘Guess I’ll have to see about an upgrade,’ he says dryly.

Hells, and you’re gonna let that sit with you for a bit.

More bits come back. The miraculous course of events is overwhelming now that adrenaline and shock aren’t flooding your system.

‘And how would you have taken out Cephlate’s ship if I wasn’t here?’ you wonder aloud. ‘If I was still on the ground with…’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.’

‘You had the second controls installed…’ Din shrugs, tips his chin and looks up at the ceiling, you see the faintest crawl of a blush on his neck. It’s charming as hell.

‘Let’s call it… hopeful planning,’ he offers. ‘I wanted to be prepared for anything.’

‘You were,’ you breathe. ‘You always are.’ He smiles again. You could get so used to that.

Another question bubbles up, but Din senses it and shushes you.

‘We can do a full forensic later – and talk more, I swear. But I think we’re about to—’ R5’s binary burbles a warning over the ship intercom. ‘Run low on fuel,’ Din finishes. 

He examines you with an ‘okay to move?’ kind of expression and you nod.

As you each move to stand, careful to give space to the other, the sensations of your body rush into your awareness. Unpleasant, irritated, and clammy.

You stop in the doorway, turn back. ‘Um, D- Din?’

He straightens from collecting his helmet and turns to you, listening.

‘When we’ve landed, can I-- would there be time for me to…’ You raise an arm covered in dried blood to rub it across your neck, caked in dust. Drop it to the cut-away hole exposing your abdomen, also bloody. Dither before thinking hells with it. Just ask. ‘Would it be okay for me to use the fresher quick?’ You mumble it out in a rush. Grubby and self-conscious. ‘I just…’

‘Of course,’ he says, voice a low rumble. ‘Anything.’

Not long later, you stand under the warm stream of water revelling in the sensation. You know you don’t have much time, but you linger long enough to feel yourself seeping back into your skin. Coming home. Rivulets of cleansing moisture travel down your body, as you let the dirt and the blood and the months on months of heartbreak wash off and away.

--

Prev | Next

[inosukenumberonefan]

How to catch Kokushibo's eye

Unlike upper rank 2 and 3 I belive he would go for a demon because they're isn't any circumstances where a human would cross his path and live.

You'd have to upper rank 2 or 3 because I feel the only way to get to really talk to him would be challenging him to a blood battle or being assigned a mission with him (Or you could harm one of the demons that are above you but he prolly would dislike you for that)

In these two scenarios you'd have to be about the strength of upper 2 or 3 because

In a mission you have to be as close as you could be to be able to keep up with him and not hold him back.

In a blood battle if you were upper 4 5 or 6 he' wipe the floor with you and absorb you for being so naive and stupid and if you somehow managed to beat him and leave him alive bro would never recover and never talk to you again. (Inferioty complex gonna hit hard)

In both of these scenarios you'd have to be have a specific personality for him not to despise you.

His ideal personality:

Queit: Hes not much of a talker but that does not mean he's a listener after about 30 seconds of you raving or talking about someone not "work" related he gets annoyed. (I headcanon him as not liking loud noises either)

Most of your time spent with him will be in comfortable silence and small talk so you need to be down for that

Loyal: This has been established in the manga that he very highly believes in the hierarchy of the demons so he would not like someone who frequently does not listen to Muzan or complains (I belive the reason he let Akaza live was because of his loyalty to Muzan)

Serious: This is pretty self explanatory. Bro does not like goofing around and he takes getting stronger and being a demon VERY serious so someone who doesn't he'll label them as a distraction and annoyance

Calm: He prefers queit and tranquility so someone who doesn't freak out and get hyper or whatever is VERY MUCH preferred. He needs someone who will address him calmly instead of freezing up in fear (still gotta treat him with respect)

Extra points!

Sharing the same ideals as him which is doing anything to get stronger and training very hard.

Being a training buddy (will elaborate more on this later)

Using a katana as a weapon.

Being turned into a demon by Kokushibo

For age you can either be a super old demon 300-500 years (like him) were you've slowly climbed the ranks maybe going up a rank every 50 or so years until finally you challenge him.

Or....

You can be a baby demon 0-50 years. (The younger you are the more impressed he is) it takes a demon roughly 55-100 to devour enough humans to become an upper rank so being able to climb the ranks faster then most, to him that condems respect.

NOW I HAVE A VISION!

Imagine you're a baby demon just recently turned, you were a previous demon slayer a Hashira or Kinoe. Your skills and powers were already great but now they're out of this world. You've climbed the ranks fast and managed to secure a position in the upper ranks.

Now stick with me... Your BDA is related to your swordsmanship (like Kokushibo's 😽) so you seek him out here's the scene.

"Am I right to assume you used to be a demon slayer Kokushibo-sama?" He stands there contemplating his response or whether or not he should respond.

"As were you." You nod.

"Your blood demon art and sword skill truly are something to behold." You compliment and he tenses up at the praise. "Mines actually quite similar-."

"I have important matters to attend to. Please don't waste my time with formalities." He interrupts.

"I was hoping to find a sparring partner." He wasn't very expressive but you could tell he did not want to do that AT ALL. "I understand your reservations but I do belive its been some time since you've gotta a proper fight and not that I don't find you immensely strong but the Hashira's of this era are out of the world especially with them unlocking the mark, it would be a terrible for any of us to die because we haven't gotten proper practice."

It takes him a while but he agrees because you're also fighting with a katana like a demon slayer and you're matching the power of a hashira so it's a good agreement!

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 20 Snippet

“What do you mean you don’t have any range?”

“I have eight-ish feet of range with this thing.” I gestured to the weapon on my back as I rolled Qrow up to the bar. 

“I mean a gun, kid.”

“I don’t like guns." I was petulant but determined. I don’t like ‘em. I think they’re cheating. I think you should have to see the person or thing you’re killing. I think that’s fair. 

"What do you do when the other guy has a gun?"

"I have a bigass shield.”

“Look, I can show you some of what I know. It should help. What do you say?”

Ruby had convinced him to mentor me, then. That was fine. I needed the teaching and Qrow’s weapon was a bit like mine. His experience also eclipsed mine by shades. “I don’t have much choice.”

“That’s the spirit. Speaking of spirits, two whiskeys on the rocks,” he ordered to the bartender in the little hole in the wall we’d found. Or Qrow knew about it beforehand. The rose wood walls were brightly lit. It had a comfortable feel.  

“Should you be drinking that much?” he did lose a bit of weight recently. 

“I'm not. You’re drinking with me.”

"I'm the designated driver."

"You're my designated roller at best."

“I don’t have much choice in this either, do I?” The bartender, overhearing us, carded me. I handed him my ID while Qrow took the drinks. I suppose I was a match for the guy in the picture so the barkeep handed it back with just a single nod. “So, you mentioned some plan to get some legs?”

I figured he'd appreciate some brutal candor. It seemed like his style.

“I did. It's sort of something that Ruby doesn’t need to know the details on.”

“Oh I don’t like that,” I disagreed. I wasn’t keen on secrets between her and I. It wasn’t healthy. 

"Relax. A quick trip to some of the lower levels and a deal with an old friend. And after that I should be walking again."

"Oh I really don't like that." I sighed. "I'm not sure I can handle any more meetings with your friends, let alone secret dealings with what are probably criminals."

"Cute." He swirled his glass for a moment and I listened to the ice clink against the glass. "Well I don't like not having legs or a weapon. This should solve at least one of those. Besides, my understanding was that you’re a bit of a criminal yourself."

“It was self defense.” Sorta. He had a weapon and was running at me. That counted. 

“I meant how you snuck into Beacon. Ruby mentioned it. But what were you talking about?”

“I uh, I killed a guy. With my semblance. Sort of ripped him in half. Then I killed another guy. Bandits. The both of them."

“Stone cold killer. Who would have thought?"

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I took a long drink on an empty stomach and my vision blurred fairly fast afterwards. 

Qrow paused. “Did you cry?”

“Uh, no?”

“I cried the first time I killed someone. That makes you stone cold.”

I swallowed whiskey. Qrow had no idea how much I really liked having power over who lived and who died and it was probably better to keep it that way. I was a bit of a mess and I was all over the place when it came to that sort of thing. 

If my sisters knew that their big brother had become a killer… or worse my mother… well, the consequences would be dire and long lasting to say the least. I’m not sure what to make of my family. They probably didn’t think I’d make it this far. And now that I had I was at a loss regarding how I would ever return to them. If I would ever return to them, that was. Maybe they’d find me somehow or someway. Home for me was with Ruby now. Ruby and the remnants of my team.

"Look,” I searched my addled brain. “What sort of favors are we talking about here?”

“Probably running drugs. I've done it before for her for some information."

“What kind of drugs?”

“Does it matter?”

“It will when Ruby finds out.”

“Ruby won’t find out unless you tell her.”

“That’s pretty much how that’s going to go down. She’ll ask me one question: ‘hey Jaune, where’d you and my uncle get those legs?’ And then because I’m a bitch I will tell her. I will out you for absolutely nothing. Bet on that old man.”

“Old man? If I wasn’t in this chair I’d knock some of your teeth out.”

“But you are in the chair. And unless you’re gonna transform and try to peck my eyes out I have a pretty good idea of how it would go down.”

“Cute. You think you’re such a big shot now, don’t you.”

“Unlocked my semblance. Pulled your ass out of the fire. I got a big ass sword and it’s pretty dope.” I got the girl. “I’m doing pretty well for myself. You, on the other hand, have been sidelined. That chair you're sitting in is worth more than you are. You bag of bones. Give me a break.”

“Bartender, another round.” Qrow called over. The bartender poured our drinks and slid them towards us. 

“We’re running the drugs. Or doing whatever else is needed to get me out of this chair. And Ruby doesn’t need the details. You feel me? I’m proud of her moral compass but it will only get in the way with this sort of thing. You and I are adults. We can handle ourselves. We don’t need her nannying us.”

“So is it just greens or something harder, like ether or hyper?”

“I don’t know yet, kid.”

“You don’t even know if you can bang out this deal, do you?”

“...” Qrow rolled the ice in his glass around silently. 

“Got it. We need a back up plan. One that sees you in a real hospital. Not some gangster’s chopshop.”

“I’m thinking, alright. I want out of this chair.”

“Well, Ruby ran off with the last of our Lien to repair Harbinger." I took another drink and grimaced. I ignored his low chuckle at me. "So that's one of our problems down." 

"Yeah. Just need to walk again and I'll be right as rain. So, we just need to get a favor from somebody on the lower levels. Now the reason I picked you is because I figured you were up to do something criminal, am I wrong? You're a murderer."

I groaned and slammed the last of my whisky. I hadn’t realized I’d gone through my second one so fast. 

“Ruby has decided that it wasn’t murder,” I defended myself halfheartedly. 

“And what have you decided?”

“It was totally murder. I cut them down like it was nothin’. I did it like it was a sport going out of fashion. I meant for them to die. Ruby can cut it however she likes but my soul isn’t like that. She comes up with these justifications for me and they don’t do me any real justice. It’s like she has no idea I’m a fuckin’ disaster. She just sees what she wants to see, I think. Which I really, really appreciate her for. Don’t get me wrong. I love that she gives me the benefit of the doubt.”

“But she shouldn’t. Because it was murder and you meant it,” Qrow interpreted. “I knew a girl like that once. Really believed in me. She really couldn’t see me for what I really am. A scumbag. Yeah I’ve fought for the good guys. But I didn’t fight like a good guy. You know what I mean? I didn’t fight with good intentions in my heart. And that’s what really matters. Don’t it?”

I leaned way over the bar and stretched. I sighed heavily. That was pretty much how I felt about it too. Outlaw justice. Yeah right. Give me a fuckin’ break. I killed because I found it immensely tasteful to unwind another person’s mortal coil. Killing Cinder… now that just might be better than sex. 

"Excuse me?" A younger looking dude in farm hand attire approached the bar. We looked at him, then at each other.

“Aren’t you a little young to be in here, pipsqueak.” Qrow wondered.

To be fair, the dude looked younger than me and was about five two. A solid maybe on that five two. He was well under one hundred eighty centimeters but he didn’t have a drink in his hand so it was probably fine. Probably. I wasn’t sure about the rules of a bar like this. Or any bar really. I wasn’t a bar guy.

“Shut up, I'm getting there.” He said to the air next to him.

Okay?

Where was the wire?

Qrow didn’t seem put off by this. Instead he wheeled himself around to fully face the guy.

Sure. Why not?

“I’m supposed to tell you, I’d like my cane back.”

“What the fresh fuck?” I blurted. 

Qrow reached behind him in the chair and pulled out a length cane with some gears and a switch at the gray handle. He tossed it to the kid and it extended into something like a weapon. And with a hunter’s strength… fuck it. Why not? It wasn’t like I really cut things up with the broadsword form of Crocea Mors. More of a crushing action. The Nuckleavee was big enough such that it was fine. Sure. It did some cutting. But on people it crumpled them more than sliced them. 

“Bartender!” I turned and called. 

“You’re Jaune Arc.” The kid said. 

“You know me?” I asked. “How?” 

“Um… I let you into my school.”

“He’s Ozpin,” Qrow leaned back and laughed. “I did it. I found him. Bartender!”

“How the hell is he Ozpin?” I asked. “Headmaster Ozpin? Are you nuts?”

“Bartender!”

“I didn’t believe it at first either…” the kid murmured. He stroked the length of the cane. 

We got our third round. I hammered mine immediately. I gasped off the alcohol. 

“Slow down, son,” the bartender suggested. 

“You…” I wavered. “Keep ‘em comin’. You… one of you two… explain.”

“When Ozpin died he was reincarnated into me.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Can’t he just die and be dead like a normal person .” I spat out the word ‘person’ like it offended me. 

“Um… it’s a long story.” 

“Yeah. I’m in a real rush.”

“It’s a personal story, then.”

“Okay. And you woke up one day and were cool with it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that at all. But… I have responsibilities now.”

“Because- can Ozpin hear me right now?” I asked.

“Yes. He hears what I hear and sees what I see.” 

"Because you’re schizophrenic.” I finished. “You’re delusional. You should go home. Do you even have your aura unlocked?”

“Well… no. But… neither did you? Wait, why didn’t you?” The kid asked. 

“And you knew I didn’t have my aura unlocked? And you flung me into the emerald forest anyway? Why?” 

“What’s your name, kid?” Qrow requested from the chair. 

“Oscar Pine.”

“Well, Oscar, welcome to the real world,” Qrow sat back and drank his whiskey. 

[hanako-san]

Do you think the reason why the Minamoto family sealed Hanako and considers him dangerous is because Hanako also has an entity inside him, but thanks to the sealing he no longer has the connection? I know this type of question is already quite old, but I wonder how much the Minamoto family knows about Hanako and why Teru has such an unfounded hatred for him.

The fact that a question may seem 'old' is not really old because new facts are emerging and I believe that the perception of many things is changing. This question is not old, it is still relevant until AR reveals what actually happened. My perception of this matter also took on a different point of view and confirmed some of my thoughts.

First of all Anon, why should I believe this family? From the very beginning something doesn't feel right to me and something doesn't add up. Hanako is the type of person who won't deny it and will take all the blame when he's not completely at fault, so I think there was a fight and he lost, but it wasn't like the old minamoto says. Hanako wants to be considered the worst, so this version suits him and that doesn't mean that grandma minamoto is 100% right.

Something doesn't add up and I've just felt it since the beginning of being in the fandom, but I don't know where. Maybe over time AidaIro will discover their secret or give more clues about it.

I didn't trust this family from the beginning and I'm glad that AD confirmed it. Why should I believe in the story of a person who comes from a family of liars and hypocrites who put themselves outside the law and believe that they have the right to everything and they are right, they focus on to be heroes, but in fact they are ordinary hypocrites, murderers with double standards.

I also don't understand why her words should be taken for granted when so many things are not clear, and her version does not have to agree with what Kou said, to take her words for granted… I have always been distant and it is really best to keep my distance

-

If Grandma Minamoto sealed Hanako, it means that the stamp on his cheek must have been put on him by Grandma Minamoto,right?

then how to explain it.

Hanako sealed Kou's weapon with the same seal he has on his cheek, which I understand was left to him by Minamoto's grandmother.

How does Hanako use the same seals as Minamoto's grandmother to seal him?

Is this seal double-sided? Can be used against both: ghosts and the minamoto family?

Where's the point? and if that's the case, Kou should have gotten rid of the seal easily, but he couldn't break it. Only Hanako could do it.

This very spacious seal works against ghosts and exorcists and it turns out very convenient.

It's WIERD.

Another thing is Teru's behavior

He never appeared when Tsukasa was responsible for something, and he wasn't even there when Tsukasa injured him and his head was bleeding, and as soon as Amane did something, it was instantaneous. Yes, it can be explained by special hatred, but one thing makes me wonder, something that caught my attention.

Tsukasa was literally making pulp of Akane right in front of him.

While the two were terrified by what they saw, he sat unmoved and was not surprised by anything. He just wonders why No.1 doesn't react, just watches and gives a monologue justifying his doing nothing by 'caring for yashiro's life' when, let's be honest, he doesn't care about her. Her life is nothing to him, but if it was Hanako he wouldn't hesitate for a moment.

Hanako is supposed to be 'dangerous' for them, but Tsukasa is 'not' anymore? seeing how powerful he is and what he does to Akane? Hello??? WHY? This could be explained by personal reasons because Kou and Teru create an opposition between the twins and their vision, but as he himself said to Kou a few chapters earlier that they cannot hesitate, he hesitated and was unfazed by anything. I don't take his lack of reaction to keeping his cool at all, it's more than just double standards and also Teru sent Kou to get rid of Hanako right after Hanako made the deal with yashiro, which means he doesn't want to let Hanako reveal his own plan that he might know about and it might involve God. It makes sense, but his actions with Tsukasa, his reaction, show me that there is something more behind it and I distrust this family even more and i think Teru knows it! and also Teru does not react even when Tsukasa admits that he is the one doing everything, and earlier Teru says that he cannot allow Amane to act to destroy yorishiros. And is it okay here? No reaction whatsoever, just pathetic thoughts.

ITS' WIERD!

Kou's words at the beginning of the story, it seems to me that the grandmother repeats this very questionable story to her grandchildren to instill hatred towards Hanako and so that they will finish the job of killing Hanako, because she failed. So she said what was convenient for her, leaving out possible other facts that we don't know about like teru left out some of what his family did and told about sumire to aoi and her 'special privileges' apart from the cruelty. I believe grandma minamoto did the same.

Amane may have God within him, but what about the rest of the supernaturals at school? It turns out that each of them has some part of God in them, are they okay now for the family? I don't deny that Hanako HAD (and still have?) a plan and needed an assistant to implement it, and Grandma and Teru may know about it. The problem is that their behavior, especially Teru and her history, is very very questionable in my eyes. Did grandma just want to prevent Hanako from carrying out his plans? Possible. Hanako is the type of personality that if he decides and plans something, he will want to implement it despite obstacles.

I don't believe that Hanako was dangerous, these are just the words of a lying, hypocritical and hateful old woman who belongs to a family of murderers and liars. I don't believe her story and there is more to this story that she doesn't want to talk about because it's convenient for her. And if he was, let him show it through his memories. I see a lot of inconsistency and illogicality in their behavior, and it's full of hypocrisy and double standards. and if he was dangerous, I'll believe it when I see the flashback.

From what I can gather, they know quite a lot about him, maybe even everything? Do they know what exactly happened there? And it is also inconvenient for them, because Yugi family has already come to them once for help that they didn't receive help and maybe now they wants to hide this. Maybe they don't want the twins' case to come to light because it would show their incompetence or something?

Something just isn't right about this.

[blooming-peace]

To not lose you (Chap. 2)

Pairing: Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Reader

Tags: Arranged Marriage

Wordcount: 1,3k

Warnings: Swearing, Miscommunication, OoC(?)

The marriage has been held at last.

It was nothing extremely fancy as one would expect, it all just followed the traditions of Inazuma, not many guesses. Both your families and some relevant members of the Tri-Commission. And you prefer it like this, if you were to be honest, however, there is something still bothering you greatly.

Ayato was still angry at you.

You’ll have to be dumb to not notice, he even didn’t even looked at you once you were alone in the room together.

“…I’ll go to sleep to another room...” you said, knowing he will also prefer if you didn’t share a room with him. He didn’t even nod at you, staying silent as you left to one of the guests rooms. It did hurt you, did he think of you so lowly to not even try and talk to you? You sighed and felt tears menacing to fall, but as always, you’ll just wait…

The following days were pretty much the same as before you married, Lady Kamisato trained you to over see most of the affairs expected of you, such as arranging the house finances, the retainers and handle some of the paperwork. It was not an easy job, but at least you showed to be a fast learner.

You also started training in the art of the sword with Ayaka, but it became quite obvious very quickly that you had no talent nor training when it came to weapons. Your clan was better known for being researchers and scholars than for their capabilities at combat afterall

But is this background that gave you the ability to read and understand documents very fast, you impressed both lady and lord Kamisato in the aspect of dealing with documents and paperwork. And how quickly you could come up with a solution.

“…let me asks for forgiveness in my son’s behalf…” the lady said, as you played shogi together “we thought this marriage was the best option since you both were close since childhood, but it seems our decision has been wrongly made, seen how he is acting…”

“There is nothing to apologise to, mother” she allowed you to call her that way “…Ayato is just displeased because it was all too sudden, I’m sure we will be able to be as before someday…”

“How are you feeling thought?” She asked in that sweet motherly tone

“…I was surprised at first, who wouldn’t?” you answered “Right now… it does pain me that he seems to be resentful towards me…”

The older woman just gave you a soft and reassuring squeeze on your hand, making the unconscious sad expression you made disappear.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

…It snowed that day…

The Kamisatos were at the Lord’s bedside, you slightly afar.

His father had passed away, yet, he didn’t allow himself to show any sadness at this very moment. …Not even when his mother followed his father a few days after…

You stood by his side, trying to be a source of support if he were to need it. But he only grew more determined, even more when he finally started hanging his hydro vision near him. Still, you were doing your best to make his now increasing job lighter.

Is obvious how worried Ayaka, Thoma and yourself are for him, but at this moment you understand. He wants to make sure his family is safe, that the Yashiro commission doesn’t fall as the other clans within it fight for power trying to pull him down so they can use him as a steppingstone. While the Kanjou and Tenryou commissions do about the same from the outside.

So you continue to do the best you can to support him, many of the retainers abandoned the Kamisato Estate before the lord’s passing, knowing the increasing turmoil the Yashiro Commission will find itself in, now with you both as the new young and inexperienced heads many more left. But you made sure to take care of those that remained, so their loyalty was seem rewarded. You also take upon yourself to teach and raise the still young Ayaka, while taking care of some minor works to lighten your husband’s load…

He still refuses to talk to you, even as he buries himself in work. If this is his way of grieving is very unhealthy, but you’ll support him as much as you are able to. You are the one that insist him the most to at least drink the tea you made, as you thank Thoma for making sure he eats. And you continued to do this day after day, night after night, trying to not become a load or another source of worry for Thoma and Ayaka.

Is at this very moment that a most unwanted letter arrived, from your own father, asking you to use your power as the new lady of the Kamisato clan to put yours on a better political position. You don’t know if laugh or cry as you read his words, asking yourself what if any power the Kamisato clan had left. It won’t be the last time he’ll send you a letter of this kind either, even after infinite rejections from your side, you wonder what can even go worst…

You knock the door that goes to your husband office, carrying tea for him as you usually do before going inside. He barely looks at you, but he seems to grab an envelop that you quickly recognise as one of your father’s letters, you quickly come to the conclusion a member of the Shuumatsuban must had given it to him. “…Care to explain?” his voice was dry and angry; you’ll be a fool not to notice. But you could also see the tiredness of his face.

“…There is nothing to explain, the letter says what it says” You shook your head tiredly

“I disagree, there is much to explain!” he frowned, raising his voice a bit

“So what?!” you hissed back “whatever I say you won’t listen anyways, you had not doing anything but treating me as a stranger ever since we married, so why is that now I owe you an explanation”

“Oh, well then I guess is genetical to be so self-centred and greedy” He huffed “I finally understand why you said you were glad to marry me”

“Do you think I wanted to be trapped in a loveless marriage? Because no, I don’t!” you finally snapped “When I said I was glad is you that I married is because at least you were someone I knew and hold dear, and no some stranger that could had perfectly be three times my age if not more!” you frowned now clearly angry, finally letting the bottle up displeasure and sadness his words had filled you with come up “I was happy because I knew you at least will threat me fairly, I never gave a single shit about your family’s power or money, even if is obvious my father does.” You left the tray of tea in his desk, before walking to the door “I had rejected around 10 letters for him asking the same thing” you paused “but of course, I’m a self-centred and greedy (L/N) as every other. I try to make you take breaks because all I want is your power and I try my best to aid you so I can gain influence” your tone was clearly sarcastic “…you are the biggest idiot on earth, Ayato…”

You left the room as you said those words, and now it was your husband who was left speechless in return. How could he be such a fool, he knew you weren’t like this, he always did, but he has been too self-consumed on his own pain to notice the pain he was inflicting you in exchange.

And now by his stupidly he is about to lose your friendship, if it hadn’t been lost already.

[aishangotome]

Minamoto No Yoritomo: Chapter 23

Chapter 22

♡———♡

Yoshitsune-sama, with a shocked expression on his face, backed away, putting distance between us for the first time.

(I can feel the curse power... accumulating.)

(But this isn't enough yet.)

My bones creaked as if they were about to snap, and the edges of my vision began to blur whitish.

Yoritomo-sama grabbed my shoulder tightly.

Yoritomo: Yoshino! That's enough, stop it!

Yoshino: I-I'm... fine.

I opened my dry lips, but my throat wheezed, and I couldn't speak well.

Yoshino: I... will protect you.

Yoritomo: What are you--

In my blurred vision, Yoritomo-sama's face was paler than I had ever seen it.

Yoshitsune: ...I don't understand.

Yoshitsune: Why would you go that far for him, when you're just a woman?

(That's obvious.)

Yoshino: I... am Yoritomo-sama's... weapon.

(If I can't be useful, if I can't protect him.)

(There's no point in being by his side!)

I noticed a white light flashing in front of me.

Half unconsciously, I reached out to it...

(...I know exactly what to do.)

Yoshino: --Foxfire.

I held out the blue flame that started burning in my palm without any heat in front of me with both hands.

Yoritomo: Stop it!

Yoritomo-sama shouted in a blood-curdling voice and spurred his horse.

I pushed out my palms as if to reject Yoshitsune-sama, who was still trying to gallop towards us.

Yoshino: Don't come!

(Don't hurt Yoritomo-sama anymore!)

Yoshitsune: Ugh...

Yoshitsune-sama, who had dodged as if flying on his horse, held his arm where the foxfire had grazed him.

Yoshitsune-sama's horse reared up on its hind legs and neighed loudly in confusion.

Rebel Soldier 1: W-What was that?

Rebel Soldier 2: Yoshitsune-sama! Are you hurt!?

Yoritomo: ...Damn it.

Yoritomo-sama charged into the suddenly agitated enemy ranks without losing momentum.

Yoritomo: Don't miss this chance! Run--

At Yoritomo-sama's call, the shogunate's soldiers reacted as if they had come to their senses.

(More.)

(More... power.)

When I tried to draw out more curse power, my whole body suddenly lost strength.

(Eh...?)

Yoritomo: Yoshino!

Yoshino: I-I'm f-fine.

My tongue stiffened as I tried to respond to his call.

(Cold.)

As if the heat from earlier had been an illusion, a freezing cold began to cover my skin.

Yoritomo-sama clicked his tongue impatiently and held me tightly.

He continued to swing his sword without a word and broke through the enemy ranks, which were now in complete disarray.

(Ah... good...)

As soon as I felt relieved, my consciousness rapidly faded.

Yoritomo: Yoshino! Hang in there!

(Ah... but if I die here, I can't protect Yoritomo-sama anymore.)

Feeling pathetic and sad, tears overflowed from my closed eyes.

I wanted to see Yoritomo-sama's face so badly that I forced my eyelids, heavy as lead, open with willpower.

I tried to turn around, but I couldn't muster the strength, and my body slumped.

Yoritomo: ...

Yoritomo-sama supported me on his horse as if cradling me sideways.

Yoshino: I...

--CHOICE--

I cannot be a good weapon

I want to be useful to you

I am weak

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

Yoshino: I'm... sorry... I couldn't be a good weapon...

Yoritomo: ...Don't joke around.

(Yoritomo-sama... why are you making that face?)

Under the piercing blue sky, his handsome features were painfully distorted.

(You're always the perfect... shogun.)

But that was the limit of my consciousness...

...and my thoughts were cut off.

..................

...........

-

When I opened my eyes, I didn't know where I was.

In the darkness, I blinked as I looked up at the cloth ceiling while lying down.

(Where am I...?)

Yoritomo: You're awake.

Yoshino: .....Yoritomo-sama...

When I spoke, cold air entered my mouth, and I started coughing.

Yoritomo-sama, who was sitting by my pillow, gently lifted me up and put a bamboo tube to my lips.

Yoritomo: Drink.

Yoshino: Mmm...

The water slowly slid down my throat.

(Delicious.)

After I finished drinking, my consciousness finally became clear.

(This is inside the tent, right? Is it already night...?)

Moonlight was shining through the gaps in the curtain.

(That's right. I overused my curse power and lost consciousness.)

I tried to get up, but...

Yoshino: Huh?

I couldn't put any strength into my arms or legs.

Yoritomo: Hey, don't push yourself.

Yoritomo-sama grabbed my hand in a panic, stopping my movement.

Yoritomo: Don't worry, it's safe here. We've joined forces with Morinaga's troop.

Yoshino: What about the other soldiers?

Yoritomo: They were all battered, but they're resting now.

Yoritomo: Oh, and I took the liberty of using your medicine on the wounded.

Yoshino: Oh, yes. Of course, that's fine, but...

Yoshino: ...Speaking of which, how is your injury, Yoritomo-sama...?

Yoritomo: Morinaga nagged me about it, so it's already been taken care of.

Yoshino: I see... That's good!

Relieved, I squeezed Yoritomo-sama's hand tightly.

(It's warm.)

(We're alive. Yoritomo-sama and I.)

My emotions welled up, and my chest tightened.

Yoshino: I'm so glad you're safe...

Yoritomo: ...Idiot.

It was the weakest "idiot" I'd ever heard from Yoritomo-sama.

Yoritomo: You're still saying that at a time like this?

Yoshino: Yoritomo-sama?

Yoritomo-sama lowered his head slightly and touched my hand, which he was holding, to his forehead.

It was similar to the gesture of praying for something.

(I can't imagine Yoritomo-sama praying for anything.)

(He's a strong person who has paved his own path.)

Yoritomo: Listen. You're not allowed to...

Yoritomo: Try to help me on your own anymore.

Yoshino: But...

Yoritomo: It's a nuisance, that kind of thing.

His words, spoken in a low voice, stung.

Yoshino: I-I'm sorry...

Yoritomo: It's a nuisance for you to get hurt.

Yoritomo: It disturbs me... the heart I was supposed to have thrown away.

(Eh...?)

Yoritomo-sama raised his face.

In the dim light, his exhausted, night-sky-colored eyes still held a light.

Yoritomo: The thought of you not waking up made me feel like I wasn't alive.

Yoritomo: This is an order, Yoshino.

Yoritomo: Don't make me lose you.

Yoshino: B-But why would you say something like that...?

Yoritomo: Don't you understand?

Yoshino: I don't understand! Because Yoritomo-sama...

Confused, my voice rose slightly.

Yoshino: You're supposed to be the one who can throw away everything for the greater good.

(But...)

I suddenly remembered the almost tearful face I saw right before I collapsed.

Yoritomo: That's right. I've thrown away many things so far.

Yoritomo: I should have been able to throw away my feelings for you as well, but...

Yoshino: B-But, feelings...

(Because that would be like...)

My heart started to race as if anticipating something.

Yoritomo: Ha... What kind of face is that?

Yoshino: ...You too, Yoritomo-sama.

His well-shaped eyebrows were slightly furrowed, as if tormented by passion.

Yoshino: You would never make that kind of face normally!

Yoritomo: It's your fault.

Yoritomo-sama's voice was tinged with emotion, as if he had forgotten to tease or push me away.

Yoritomo: How can I act when the woman I love is hurt?

(Ah...)

The straightforward arrow of words pierced the center of my chest, and I gasped.

(Love... Yoritomo-sama, me?)

Yoshino: A-Are you... serious?

Yoritomo: ......

Yoritomo: Of course, I'm lying.

Yoshino: What...?

Yoritomo: The word 'love' isn't enough.

Yoritomo: I love you. More than anything in this world, I want Yoshino.

(...)

The quietly spoken words were confirmed to be Yoritomo-sama's true feelings by the gaze we exchanged.

(It's like a dream...)

(What should I do... what am I supposed to do at a time like this?)

My whole body grew hot with the growing realization.

Yoritomo: Hey, you made me say all this, don't think you can escape.

Yoshino: ...I would never run away.

Holding back tears, I finally managed to put my feelings into words.

Yoshino: I... love you too.

Yoshino: I've been in love with you for a long, long time.

Yoritomo: Yeah, I know.

(Eh?)

Surprised, I blinked.

(W-Why?)

Yoshino: You knew...? My feelings?

Yoritomo: I'm good at reading people's hearts.

Yoritomo: Well, even without that, your feelings are easy to understand.

Yoshino: That's...

(I never thought he knew...)

Suddenly embarrassed, my voice rose.

Yoshino: Then, when did you start liking me, Yoritomo-sama?

Yoritomo: I don't know, that kind of thing.

Yoritomo-sama shrugged nonchalantly.

Yoritomo: But--

Yoritomo: What I thought was a rare toy, I couldn't let go of before I knew it...

Yoritomo: I ended up wanting you for myself, not for the greater good as the shogun.

Yoritomo: Even though I knew that your happiness wasn't with me, on this blood-soaked path.

(He cared for me that deeply...?)

Yoritomo-sama gave a wry smile.

Yoritomo: Love and affection are truly troublesome things.

Yoritomo: I never thought the day would come when I'd show my weak and ugly sides to someone like this.

Yoshino: I'm happy! To be able to touch Yoritomo-sama's heart like this.

(...I'm so happy to be told that you love me.)

Yoshino: I...

Yoshino: Because I knew you were carrying a great cause, Yoritomo-sama... I couldn't say that I fell in love with you.

Yoritomo: I know.

Yoritomo: You've always been watching me, worrying about me.

Yoritomo: I underestimated your will and hurt you. ...I'm sorry for making you do so much.

Yoshino: Please don't apologize...!

Yoshino: I did it because I wanted to.

Yoritomo: That's why...

He bit his lip tightly.

As if to soothe me, Yoritomo-sama continued in a calm tone.

Yoritomo: As I said before, I don't want you to risk your life for me again.

Yoritomo: So, this is the last time I'll apologize or thank you with these feelings.

Yoritomo: Yoshino, thanks to you, we were able to escape from Yoshitsune with only a few casualties.

Yoritomo: I'm truly grateful. --Thank you.

(Yoritomo-sama...)

I thought I didn't need words of gratitude.

I thought it was okay even if he didn't look at me.

(But...)

My heart tingled, and an overwhelming emotion made my throat tremble.

Yoshino: No... no.

Yoshino: Everyone in the troop survived because you kept fighting, didn't you, Yoritomo-sama?

Yoshino: I saw you like that and truly wanted to be of use.

As I lowered my face with a fever...

Yoritomo: You really are an idiot.

Yoshino: ...Please don't call me an idiot at a time like this.

Yoritomo: No way. I'll tell you precisely because it's now.

Yoritomo-sama's hand cupped my cheek and lifted my face up.

Yoritomo: You're an incurable idiot for trying to risk your life for someone like me.

Yoritomo: But I'm the bigger idiot.

(Eh...?)

Yoritomo: Even though my heart desired you so much, I couldn't find my resolve until I saw you hurt.

Yoritomo-sama wasn't smiling anymore.

Trapped in his serious gaze, I couldn't even move a finger.

Yoshino: W-What... kind of resolve?

Yoritomo: The resolve to hold both the greater good and you in my hands, and never let go of either, even in the depths of hell.

Yoshino: Does that mean...?

(Is that... allowed?)

(Can I... stay by Yoritomo-sama's side?)

Yoritomo: I've decided to mess up your life with my selfishness.

Yoritomo: I'm sure I'll put you through unnecessary hardship. But even so--

Yoritomo-sama slowly brought his face closer to mine, his eyes fixed on me.

Yoritomo: I've stopped giving up on you.

Yoritomo: So, give up and... give me everything.

Yoshino: Yoritomo-sama...

(There's no other answer...)

I looked at Yoritomo-sama with tearful eyes and slowly nodded.

Yoshino: ...Yes.

Yoshino: Please... take everything of mine.

(Because my heart is already yours.)

Yoritomo: Yes. I'll take it all, without leaving a single piece behind.

Yoritomo: In return, I swear to protect you for the rest of your life.

Yoritomo: Is that okay?

Yoshino: ...More than enough.

Yoshino: Thank you, Yoritomo-sama...

(From now on, I will live for him too.)

The arms holding my body gently tightened.

I resented the fact that my strength hadn't returned enough to embrace him back.

As I looked at him longingly, our breaths mingled...

In the darkness with my eyes closed... our lips softly met.

Yoshino: Mmm...

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 24

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[theworldbrewery]

I just finished a 5 year long campaign on Saturday. I would describe myself as a hardass on the rules, up to the point that something worked within larger thematic parameters in the setting.

In practice, this meant that the game began with me being very strict on rules. Some things, like carrying capacity, were not worth tracking (especially once they got a bag of holding), but other rules, both official and house-rules, I kept to very closely. As the PCs became more powerful, I started offering them brief opportunities when something important wasn't going to go their way. Memorably, when a PC was about to die by mind flayer and lose her brain and drop concentration on the spell that was holding the boss monster at bay, I asked how badly she wanted to survive, and allowed her to make a sacrifice: the goddesses of luck had a problem with her using her Wild Magic subclass abilities to manipulate her fortune, so she gave up her subclass in exchange for surviving the attack (and got a new subclass later obviously).

This type of scenario worked because I established the possibility of 'trading' a consequence for a desirable outcome -- borrowing from other systems a little bit, where you can succeed at a cost. It fit into the mechanics and flavor of the Wild Magic sorcerer's abilities, but it broadened over time to include anyone willing to make a deal and give something up to get what they wanted.

That practice brought us to an underdark adventure where they found the place where sacrifices 'go,' metaphorically speaking, and set the stage for the finale in which the PCs broke with fate altogether and ascended to godhood to fight Bane to the death. I worked with them to build divine statblocks and what mattered most was the exchange. The sense of loss, thematically, that comes from achieving great feats of power that should be impossible. It builds on the most basic ideas of making sacrifices to a god to receive their support, and of destroying components to cast powerful spells, and turns them into a larger framework of magic and power.

But I still expected them to use spell components, and take fall damage, and remember you can't stack advantage or temporary hit points.

Once they ascended to godhood I relaxed the rules somewhat, to let them savor the power they'd gotten. But as mortal beings those rules represent their vulnerabilities, their relative weakness, the risks and rewards of adventuring. I always considered it necessary for my own peace of mind to be clear on the rules and on the interactions of mechanics, from the limits of dark vision and which hexes could be affected by a spell, but it also empowered me to be more flexible with the rules when specific, thematic moments came into play.

Rule of Cool can get weak when you rely too heavily on it. It takes away the stakes, which kills the fun. But this version of "Rule of Cool" expected the players to open themselves up to risk and change -- trying and failing to wake up a cursed archfey led the group's cleric to give up all his memories before the age of 10, trying to force an enemy to fail her Banishment saving throw made the bard swear to protect the cleric with their life (and be compelled to do so). The losses they suffered weren't punishments, but opportunities: what new subclass does the sorcerer take, and why? Do you throw yourself in front of a blow that would kill the cleric?

The role-play moments that resulted, the twists in the tale, were worth it, every single time.

I didn't accept pure mechanical sacrifices: the gods don't care about your melee weapon attack modifier. They had to give up something that mattered to the character. To understand what sacrifice really is.

And they sacrificed themselves, in the end.

[oddella37]

Uprooted an Adjusted: Part One

Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader 

This story is/will be a more long term story because I can't write short stories but I will try to post quickly

Summary: Colonel Quaritch is impatient, rather than continuing to uselessly interrogate the Island Na’vi who are starting to fight back, he decides to take one aboard his ship to guide him to Jake Sully.

Part 2

It was a peaceful day when the sky demons attacked. We had been warned of their attacks, of their brutal destruction. They were searching for a man named Jake Sully. Formerly known as Toruk Makto. He was currently seeking safety with the Awa’Atlu Clan. We were asked not to say where he was located as he only wanted peace. Part of me boiled that while he seeked peace others were being brought war because of this Jake Sully.

The killer sky people came and they took. They questioned looking for the man ‘Jake Sully’. We couldn’t understand many of their words, but many of us recognized the former warrior Toruk Makto. I knew I did. My father died fighting with him. Last I heard we had banished these Sky Demons but, of course, they came back like the demonic plague that they were. This time they disguised themselves like us. Well, not like us from the islands, but like Na’vi. Their leader looked similar to the forest Na’vi, tall, skinny, and a darker brighter shade of blue. He was likely one of those demons who inhabit an avatar body while they sleep.

There was a young human boy who seemed to speak our language and translate as they tried questioning our people. We weren’t the first tribe they invaded, and from what we were hearing each attack was worse than the next. Our homes were blazing behind us as each of us had weapons pointed in our direction. A gun was pointed at both our Olo’eyktan and Tsahik as they were yelled at by The Sky Demon Leader.

After a lot of yelling back and forth and translating from the Na’vi speaking boy, the Demons were getting impatient from our lack of knowledge. Suddenly, the tall leader spoke some unknown words and our Tsahik was shoved face into the ground with one of the deadly weapons shoved into the back of her head. The young boy began screaming and crying and with a loud bang our beautiful Tsahik’s body went limp.

Chaos broke loose as our Clan tried to escape and protect themselves and their families.

I let out a war cry as I turned to my captor who was distracted by the others who were trying to break loose. His grip on my Queue came loose enough for me to turn and bite him with all my might. Once he released me, I took off towards this leader of these Sky Demons. Luckily, I was not  far away as I pulled my blade from its sheath at my side and leaped at the demon.

I did not get far as a fiery jolt was sent through my entire body. It burned and every nerve seemed to go stiff as I cried at the pain. My body hit the sand and just when I thought it was over I was stung again by the powerful, painful jolts.

My vision blurred and I could not make out any sound but muffled cries from my people, my family. My eyelids felt heavy and although I fought the exhaustion that took over my body, I could not stop its effects as my consciousness left me.

I awoke in an all metal room. The floor was hard and so was the seat I was in. I stood to free myself when I found resistance from my own hands. I found they were bound to the table I had been laid against and began pulling at my restraints.

I stopped when the noise came from behind me and I looked up to see a reflection of the human boy. I hissed and jumped onto the table, turning to the demon boy.

The demon held his hand up in surrender, but I refused to back down.

“I do not want to bring you harm,” he tried to defend himself. His Na’vi was skilled, not awful like the other men who looked more like Na’vi. I did not believe his deceitful words for a second, though, and hissed once again, bearing my sharp teeth at him. He bared his teeth back at me and I couldn’t help but feel impressed by his stance. Almost like he was raised by Na’vi himself.

I examined him further and noticed the faded blue stripes painted on him, he seemed so much like us, but a completely different species.

“These men want to know where Jake Sully is. He is a friend of mine, but their enemy. They think you can guide them to him,” The boy explained to me, “I do not want to help them, but in order to stay alive we must give them what they want.”

“I will give these Demons nothing. I will not betray my people,” I seethed at the boy, “If you are truly friend of Jake Sully you would not help either.”

“I’m only a translator. I am trying to convince them not to hurt more people, but I can only do so much. Please, if you just tell me a direction I can convince them to let you live.” He begged and I scowled at the boy. He had a good reason but not enough for me to help.

“What did they do to my clan?” I asked the boy, my heart filling with dread at the endless possibilities.

The boy was silent. His nonexistent answer, telling me all that I needed to know. “If my family dies for this Jake Sully, let me die with them,” I seethed, sitting on the cool metal table, my arms placed between my legs.

The boy bowed his head and stepped out of the room and as soon as the door closed behind him I began chewing at my bindings, trying to get them loose.

After a bit of my chewing and pulling at my restraints, the door opened again. I looked up to see more of the Demon-Blooded Na’vi in their ugly clothing. My wrists were freed and before I could act they were bound again by the demons.

I hissed as I was pulled off of the table and all but dragged out of the room. A cool metal was pressed to my temple as we walked. Well, they walked, I was pulled.

When we arrived at our destination, I felt as if my heart was ripped from my chest. I saw a beautiful Tulkun, killed by these sky demons. She was being pushed off of the ship to be left back into the water. I felt my legs go weak at the sight. One of our mighty sisters murdered.

“How many must die,” I whispered, a soft sob escaping me as I looked into the lifeless eyes of the beautiful Tulkun floating in the water. I sobbed harder when I saw a young calf swim up beside her and nudge her, looking for his mother to move, make a sound, anything. I stupidly wished she would make any noise as well.

The familiar cool metal was pushed into my temple once again which only made more of my tears fall. The large Demon Na’vi who seemed in charge approached. “Tell us where Jake Sully is or more die,” I was able to barely understand the monster.

“You talk like a baby. A demon baby,” I seethed out as I choked back my sobs. The weapon was pressed harder into my skull as I felt my sensitive Queue get pulled.

“Please just tell them,” I looked over at the familiar voice through my blurry vision. The Demon boy looked so sad, almost like he understood my pain, or tried to.

My lip quivered at the thought of more Tulkun dying. My head fell in defeat. “He is hidden in the Awa’Atlu Clan. East.” I spoke softly.

I listened as the human boy translated my words and the metal was removed from my temple. My body wracked with more sobs as I knew this would just lead to just a much death, but hopefully this death would have an end.

Hopefully the mighty Toruk Makto would defeat these monsters.

[2baddiesfanfics]

Practice Makes Perfect (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Shenhe x Yelan

Tags: Training, Fights, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Teacher-Student Relationship, Mentors, Improper Use of Visions (Genshin Impact), Improper Use of Cryo (Genshin Impact), Battle, Masturbation, Friends to Lovers, Liyue Lantern Rite (Genshin Impact)

Summary:

Shenhe's training is off to a bumpy start…and not just for her. Yelan is starting to feel things she shouldn't.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 2: Training Troubles

Shenhe’s lessons were comprised of both physical training as well as working to understand the unwritten rules of society. To Yelan, it seemed she caught on quickly when it came to fighting, but not so much when it came to being her own person.

“Alright. First day of training. You ready?” Yelan asked, stretching her arms as they walked to the center of the training room. Shenhe gave a sharp nod.

“First things first: What kind of vision do you have? Also, tell me a bit about your fighting background.”

Shenhe flashed the light blue gem. “It’s cryo. I’ve learned some hand-to-hand combat skills and my weapon of choice is a polearm,” she answered quickly.

“Okay, then. We’ll start with some basics. I’m going to throw some water in the air, and I’d like you to freeze it for me.” She flicked her wrist, and a stream of water shot out in her direction. Shenhe waved her hand and the droplets immediately turned solid and shot back toward Yelan. Swerving her head, Yelan barely dodged them in time.

Wide-eyed, Shenhe started walking toward her. “I apologize! I didn’t mean to use that much force.”

“No, no! It’s alright. That’s what we’re here to figure out together." Yelan reassured her. “How about some basic sparring first, maybe?”

Yelan ran at her readying her fist to throw a punch. Reading her move, Shenhe grabbed her arm and flipped her over her shoulder. With a loud crack, Yelan landed against the wall. “Ow. OW. Wow. Okay. We’ve got a ways to go it seems. No big deal. We’ll get there.”

Shenhe stood in the middle of the training room looking down at her feet. She was beginning to think this was a bad idea.

“Let’s attempt one more thing. Show me some moves with your spear,” Yelan instructed as she slowly walked back to the center of the room massaging her shoulder. She set up a training dummy and stepped back. Shenhe jabbed at an incredible speed and pierced it too many times for Yelan to count. Leaping into the air, she hit the dummy with a cryo-powered strike that sent it flying across the room. Shards of ice littered the floor that was now cratered by the sheer force of the attack. The dummy was nowhere to be seen. Shenhe cringed as she readied herself for beratement.

“Your strength is insanely impressive, Shenhe. In time, I’m sure we’ll get you to a point you’re comfortable with. Don’t worry. We’ll get this room cleaned up. I’ve been meaning to have it renovated anyway.”

The girl relaxed her shoulders. “You’re…not upset with me?” She asked with hesitation in her voice.

Yelan let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, no. This is what we are here to do. You have a gift – now we just have to bring out its potential in a much safer way.”

“A…gift?” No one had ever called it this. She had always seen her strength as a curse.

“Yeah. It might take some time for you to see it that way, but for now, let’s rest up.”

Moving back up to the living quarters of the base, Yelan collected her wallet and headed for the trap door. “I’m going to leave for a bit to get some quotes on getting the training room fixed up with things for your training. Would you like to join me?”

Shenhe shook her head no, thank you, and headed to her room.

A gift! No one’s ever called it that before. Everyone has always told me how dangerous I am and that this ability makes me a monster. Master Yelan didn’t seem afraid of it or me…

Over the next few weeks, the two women conducted various exercises to get Shenhe ready for when Ningguang and Beidou would stop by to assess her progress. Yelan first set up glasses of water for her to freeze. The smaller the increments, the easier it’d be to work her way up to larger amounts without losing control.

When it came to physical strength training, Yelan could tell she was holding back on purpose. “You’re not going to hurt me. I can take it. I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

“Master Yelan, I do not feel my abilities are a gift, as you see them. I can seriously hurt people. I’m a monster with murderous tendencies. That’s why the adepti bound my soul with red ropes - so I would not be a danger to anyone.”

“Just Yelan is fine. No need for formalities. And we need to show that bird she’s wrong about you. The way one perceives their abilities is part of how they manage them. By viewing them as a positive instead of a negative while still understanding the consequences of their misuse is how you’ll master them.”

Yelan put her hand on Shenhe’s shoulder. “Also. You’re not a monster. Maybe a little robotic at times, but certainly not a monster. I’m here to help you evolve into the person you were always meant to be.” Without thinking, Shenhe turned to her and hugged her tightly, catching her completely off guard.

“Thank you,” she whispered before releasing her, a small blush forming on her cheeks.

“Y-yeah…that’s what I am here for. Let’s not dally. Onto the last portion of training.” Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears.

Although Yelan preferred using a bow, she knew a few moves with a polearm (it was always best to practice with multiple weapons – she never knew when she might have to use one as a part of a secret identity). Shenhe readied her spear, but Yelan noticed her stance was off.

“Here, let me show you something,” Yelan said as she stood next to her, one foot back the other forward. One hand grasped the middle of the spear and the other further down the shaft. “Like this. It gives you a wider stance and free range of your leg movement if need be. You always want to be ready to dodge or parry. If you stand with your feet too close together, it’ll be much harder to protect yourself.”

Shenhe took her stance once more. Yelan approached her to move her into the correct position. Tapping her thigh, she moved one leg back. Coming up behind her, she grabbed the spear and moved her hands where they should be. The proximity made Yelan’s stomach do backflips. Shenhe wiggled in her embrace as she tried to get used to the positioning and it was making Yelan sweat.

“There we go. Hey, why don’t we stop here for the day? I feel like it’s starting to get a bit warm in here and we could both use some downtime.”

Now back in their respective rooms, Yelan was wrestling with thoughts she shouldn’t be having in the shower. She tried to ignore the image of Shenhe pressed against her, the feeling of her writhing far too close for comfort. Soon she found her hands were acting of their own volition. Her fingers teased one of her nipples as her other hand applied pressure between her thighs. It didn’t take long before she was gasping Shenhe’s name as she came, praying the flowing water had drowned out her voice.

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

It took some time, but the girl was slowly coming into her own. She had developed a bond of trust with Yelan, as well as with Ningguang and Beidou. Now more confident that she wouldn’t seriously injure those around her, Shenhe began to lower the wall she had built over many years of being considered dangerous.

The two were expecting a visit from the Tianquan and the captain and had prepared an exercise to show the progress she had made since the last time they conducted a check-in. The four of them gathered together in the training room as Yelan and Shenhe took their fighting stances at the center. Beidou and Ningguang leaned against the wall at a safe distance to watch.

Yelan launched an attack on Shenhe, and she parried her with just the right amount of force. This was an incredible improvement from the last time - with the hit she took during their first encounter, she ended up at Bubu Pharmacy for the strongest painkillers they had. Yelan offered her a smile in silent encouragement.

Shenhe dodged her punch but fell to the floor when Yelan swiped her leg. Thinking fast, Shenhe kicked the other woman’s shin in retaliation and Yelan fell against her face-to-face. Yelan’s heart raced in her chest. It was as if her surroundings had gone dark and all that shone through the blackness was Shenhe’s ethereal beauty, glistening like new-fallen snow.

The sound of clapping jolted her back to her senses and she hastily scrambled off Shenhe and helped her to her feet.

“That was awesome, guys! It looks like Shenhe might even be able to take me at this point,” Beidou shouted happily.

“Now that we have her strength under control, I think the next step will be taking her topside to see how she interacts with citizens,” Ningguang voiced her thoughts out loud.

“Baobei, relax! That’ll come in due time. For now, let’s celebrate what she’s accomplished so far. Yelan clearly knows what she’s doing,” Beidou corrected.

Her use of the affectionate nickname for Ningguang made Yelan want to gag. She nodded a quick thank you to Beidou so as not to be perceived as rude and to set a good example for her pupil.

“If that’s all, I think Shenhe and I will turn in,” Yelan announced, hoping they’d take the hint.

After the two women took their leave, Shenhe came to a stop at her mentor’s side. “Yelan…why does Captain Beidou call Lady Ningguang ‘baobei?’”

“It’s just…a nickname Beidou has for her.”

“Oh! Does that mean Ningguang has one for her?” she inquired.

“I’ve heard a variety over the years. Sweetheart, dear, my captain…the list goes on,” Yelan answered, unsure of where the line of questioning was headed.

“They must be good friends to be able to call one another by such names,” Shenhe murmured, clearly in deep thought.

Yelan wasn’t quite sure how to answer her. “Uh…yes. They are very, very good friends. They’ve known each other for years.” They weren’t exactly hiding their relationship from the two of them, yet they hadn’t outright told Shenhe, either. It wasn’t her place to elaborate further.

“Are we not good friends now? Should we give each other nicknames?”

Yelan blinked back at her silently. “I mean…yes, at this point I suppose we are. Is that something you’d want to do?” Her stomach flipped at the thought. She wasn’t used to this kindness, and the way Shenhe was looking at her - that innocent but intense stare - wasn’t helping.

“No, it’s fine. I like your name as it is. It means night orchid, does it not? I’ve always preferred the moonlight in the mountains to the artificial light of the cities,” Shenhe responded with a smile.

Yelan felt her cheeks start to warm. “Thank you. I like yours the way it is as well. Immoral crane is an homage to the one who raised you, right?” Yelan gently stated. For some reason, she felt disappointed that Shenhe hadn’t come up with a term of endearment for her.

Shenhe’s face lit up. “Yes, it is! My master took me in when no one else would. She’s very dear to me. Perhaps I should come up with a nickname for her to show my gratitude. Yelan, thank you for all your help so far. I’m truly indebted to you. I’m going to head to my room to rest now,” Shenhe said before suddenly brushing her lips against Yelan’s cheek.

Yelan stood stock still. Did she just do what I think she did? “G-good night. Sleep well.” Before she could address the gesture, she heard the soft click of Shenhe’s bedroom door.

What was that all about? Why am I reacting like a schoolgirl with a crush? It’s no big deal. She’s probably just imitating something she saw Beidou do. She didn’t mean anything by it.

That night, Yelan dreamed of Shenhe kissing more than just her cheek. She imagined her fingers tracing every inch of her, their bodies intertwined, the taste of her tongue. The cool night air permeated the sweat dripping off her brow, shocking her awake.

What the hell is happening? We are student and teacher. Nothing more. She thought to herself as she stared up at her bedroom ceiling. After tossing and turning for half the night, she gave up on trying to fall back asleep. There was only one way she was going to get any rest.

Removing her pants and underwear, she tossed them to the side of the bed. Already wet, she gathered her arousal and slid a pair of fingers across her clit. Her other hand caressed her breast, her nipple taught and sensitive to the slightest brush. The chill of her room cooled her fingertips and she imagined it was Shenhe using the power bestowed by her vision to tease her. She pictured herself inserting two digits into her and finding the spot that would make her lose herself. Yelan continued to thrust her fingers, calling Shenhe’s name as she came.

Coming down from her high, she rolled over and whispered, “Oh no…this is not good.”

[deusvervemakesgames]

Project RBH Devlog 0 – The Story So Far

I’ve wanted to make video games for approximately two-thirds of my life at this point. I hear a lot of indie developers who make devlogs and videos and posts talking about their Dream Game that they’ve always wanted to make.

I don’t have one of those.

I just really want to make games. Plural.

I do however happen to have a budget of zero dollars. Which is, I will admit, something of an issue when it comes to game development and design. Don’t get me wrong there are a lot of powerful free tools out there. Unity, Unreal, Blender, I’m not exactly short on options. Okay, so I was put off of Unity from their CEO calling people who don’t monetize their games ‘idiots,’ but the point stands.

I was also fortunate enough to be gifted Game Maker Studio 2 right before they updated their Terms of Service to a subscription system or whatever nonsense YoYo did. What matters is that I own the engine and don’t have to pay subscription because they were nice enough to not try and retroactively alter legal user agreements, unlike some game companies I could name did recently.

But enough digs at the evils of capitalism, let’s talk about Project RBH.

Project RBH is a placeholder name I’m giving this game while we’re in development until I can come up with a better one. It stands for Reverse Bullet Hell, which is a decent summary of the main goal. Project RBH is a top-down twin-stick roguelike. The Reverse Bullet Hell comes from the main mechanical twist I’m putting on similar roguelikes, like Enter the Gungeon. The upgrades and pick-ups found during your run aren’t better weapons or equipment, but upgrades to the behavior of your primary attack. Most of them will do basic things like increasing the speed of the projectile or making it bigger, but there are other things that can be done to really make your attacks crazy.

The goal is to have a game where it is possible, over the course of a run, to build a gun that shoots a gun that shoots chainsaw bullets.

So Where To Start?

Like I mentioned earlier, I’ve watched multiple devlogs on YouTube, read Devlog posts, etc. And I see many of them running into what seems to be the same or similar problems: a lack of focus.

I also happen to have a degree in game design. And fortunately we had industry veterans in the course, so one of the things they taught us was the importance of a Game Design Document, or GDD.

Warren Spector, one of the leads on the classic Deus Ex, talks a lot about having a GDD during the development of that project. It’s an incredibly useful tool for pre-production, as well as for ensuring that people from across the project all have the same understanding of the creative vision. Obviously, I am a solo developer because I am broke and insane, so that last one won’t be much of an issue. But that first one is extremely important to combating many issues that crop up during game design and development, like feature creep and decision paralysis.

Which is why I haven’t made one.

Okay, no, that’s not the reason, and I will, but it was too good a transition to pass up.

The real reason I haven’t made a GDD yet is because there is another way that one can start a project. I would not recommend you do this, the GDD is a really good idea and I’ll go into more detail about it in a future Devlog, probably the next one. The reason I have chosen to do things this way is because I wasn’t confidant about the planned gameplay, so I wanted to quickly prototype it and experiment with it to see if it was actually, you know, fun. It’s nothing fancy, I have no background and the character sprites are squares, but it gives me something I can mess with.

This prototype is where I’m at right now. There isn’t even Procedural Generation, just a giant room with some walls and a whole lot of enemies.

You know what, I didn’t even realize the player and enemies are both green.

So that’s where Project RBH stands right now, a single prototype that I’ve been toying with so I can decide where and how I want to focus this game. From my experiments so far, I’ve noticed a few different directions I can take the project.

A game with a wide variety of weapons which the player can loot during runs. The player’s collected weapon improvements carry over between weapons. This has the pro of providing things for the player to unlock from runs without affecting game balance, but comes with the con that certain upgrades will make weapons feel too similar.

The original plan, in which the player has a single weapon which is reset after each run. The pro of this is that the random weapon upgrades can do some crazy stuff to this weapon, but comes at the con of being very same-y at the start of each run.

Additionally, my experiments have lead me to the realization that having a lot of powerups that drastically alter your weapon leads to a chaotic mess as you rain doom and destruction upon your pathetic enemies. This leads to the third direction I’m considering.

Much like the first one, there are a variety of weapons, however these weapons are far more powerful and do not upgrade. The player mows down hordes and hordes of foes and has a power fantasy. This has the con of being basically an entirely different game.

Here is me with no upgrades versus me with many upgrades.

As we are so early in preproduction, I don’t feel like showing off video is strictly necessary yet, but yes, it’s more obvious what’s happening in motion.

Which is where we will end this Devlog. I’ll run some more tests, maybe ask some people I know to try my experiments to get some more opinions, decide on a direction for the project, and make a GDD.

Until next Devlog!

-DeusVerve

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