#thinking of something related to divergent fist

[erigold13261]

Hiiii Mahito! He looks so cool!!!!!!!!!! And less evil. Good! (Also is Satoru and Suguru one entity, and Shoko takes on a Uraume like role? Oh no Mahito is NOT going to have a good time.)

You are right! He is NOT gonna have a good time! :D

And yes! As of right now (unless I change something which I probably won't) Satoru and Suguru are one entity and Shoko takes on Uraume's role! (or something similar to them).

I just like the idea that Satoru and Suguru do some weird curse technique combining Suguru's curse manipulation and Satoru's six eyes to become one. Makes me think of like Garnet from Steven Universe, where the fusion is just the manifestation of their love for each other (and because they are together they barely care about the world at all, which is why those two became evil >:3)

I don't know if it would make any sense in the canon of the story, but I wanted to keep the multiple appendage thing that OG Sukuna had going on (which was from the myth that he was a conjoined twin I think?), and so the idea to fuse Satoru and Suguru together came to my mind!

It also works out because in canon Satoru and Sukuna are parallels, while Suguru and Mahito had their moments together but then the betrayal! (Plus I had no real idea for Suguru if I'm being honest).

[also a note to remember, these aren't going to be true 1-to-1 swaps, some of them will be, but others won't! Like Ko-Guy (Inaho Kouho/Koura, still debating surname) is most close to Inumaki, but is most likely taking the place of Nobara in the AU!]

[yiling-laozu-is-loml]

For the danmei fanfic nightclub: XiXian angst possibly prisoner of war canon divergence.

How dare you make me inspired to write ten minutes after waking up? Suffer now!

Cw/Tw: warnings, heavy angst, psychological torture, isolation, self-loathing, suicidal thoughts, near-death experience. Hopeful ending because I am not entirely a monster!

Word Count: 3.2K

“The Lan Clan’s losses can never be compensated, even in a hundred years which is why the Jiang Clan has come up with something. We only hope this formal apology serves to restore the relationship between YunmengJiang and GusuLan. We also wish for Hanguang-jun to have a smooth transition and a better life in his next reincarnation.” Wei Wuxian would joke about how he was proud that Jiang Cheng managed to stay civil and formal at the same time and for such a long time-

“What is it that you’re offering?” Trust Lan Qiren to never waste time with skippable formalities.

“Wei Wuxian, Hanguang-jun’s murderer as a prisoner of war. This will be the last time we will do anything related to Wei Wuxian again. He is under your care now and you may feel fit to do whatever,” he spat the last word towards Wei Wuxian.

-if only he weren’t being sent to his slaughter amidst the internal cheering of the cultivation world.

“We accept, but instead of a prisoner to be tortured, I would like to take Wei Wuxian as my lawful spouse. I would love to live a long life with him. There is no resentment in Cloud Recesses to cloud his mind after all,” Lan Xichen spoke evenly but even from a distance Wei Wuxian could see the gleam of hatred in his eyes. Oh yes, he understood what the Lan Clan Leader was doing. Torture and killing him wouldn’t last as long as a marriage and captivity in the clan would. He would be proud of Lan Xichen for finally showing his true emotions if he wasn’t in danger.

“Lan-zongzhu is most merciful.” He bowed, trying not to clench his fists. There was nothing more he could do. He was Lan Xichen’s to do with as he wished and from the look in his future husband’s eyes, Wei Wuxian would suffer for years. But that’s alright. It’s what he deserves and worse. For being the reason Lan Wangji died. For telling him he was going to destroy the Yin Hu Fu and the mechanics behind it and for letting his guard down around a man so determined to stick around him.

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

He finished his three bows without fanfare the next day and moved into the Hanshi a few hours later. With everyone he cared for dead and everything important to him having been burned in Lotus Pier years ago, it didn’t take long. He only had to bring himself.

“You’ll sleep on the floor near the brazier,” Lan Xichen informed him and Wei Wuxian gulped before offering a small bow. “The Clan leader needs to look like the paragon of the Clan as such, I must take care of myself before anyone else. I am sure you understand how politics and gossip work, Yiling Laozu.”

He didn’t, and on the off chance he did, he didn’t care about what people thought anyway but he nodded to show he understood.

“Well, I hope you see him in your dreams tonight because I am sure he would’ve loved to see you in his.” It was said lightly but Wei Wuxian understood it for the curse it was. Not even half a day had passed since his sham of a marriage and his husband had already cursed him to nightmares.

“Have a pleasant rest, Lan-zongzhu,” he responded, settling his tired body near the brazier.

The next few weeks were a blur of doing nothing, getting sneered at by everyone and thinking of Lan Wangji. It always got worse if he would look in a direction and remember what Lan Wangji had done in that area years ago. He could picture him stomping around in that elegant manner of his in his mind and it never got easier, knowing he was never coming back.

Because he had learned to be a self-sacrificing fool from staying with him. Wei Wuxian would cuss him out if he wasn’t worried about how every one of his actions could affect his reincarnation. He probably thought too highly of his influence with fate but it was better to be careful.

The constant ache of feeling like something was missing, something was wrong, the nightmares and the bland GusuLan fare that was surprisingly not poisoned caused his health to decline steadily. He lost weight, his body ached constantly and his mind was in tatters, warring with immense guilt and self-hatred at all times of the day. So it wasn’t a surprise when the thin line between his guilt and lack of self-worth finally snapped. Frankly, he was surprised it took two months.

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

“Excess emotion is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Xichen reminded, as he found his husband with tears streaming down his face again. He didn’t even seem aware he was crying but didn’t look surprised as he wiped his face free of the residue of his guilt.

“Why are you being so cruel to me? You won't let me die and now you don’t want me to feel,” he whispered listlessly, the rays of the setting sun making the harsh lines of his face more pronounced. He had known his husband wasn’t eating but surely a cultivator of his calibre could practice inedia for weeks, couldn’t he?

“Every Clan member has to abide by the rules and you are part of the main family now.” He pointed out.

“I didn’t take you to be so skilled at torture, Zewu-jun, but I was wrong. You’re so good at this, aren’t you? Ordering the kitchens to send me food Lan Zhan used to like better, not stopping anyone from whispering and jeering and taunting my dead family, letting everyone remind me how I failed at being a father before I could ever become one… before I could ever save my A-Yuan.” He choked on a sob and Lan Xichen was surprised. Yuan-er, dead? Who was telling him such lies? “I really despise you.”

“That’s alright. The last person in our clan you seemed to like was my brother and we all know how that went.” It was instinct, lashing out at a husband who never fought back because the guilt of having a hand in his brother’s death was too much for him. If he hadn’t whipped Wangji. If he hadn’t left him unsupervised. If he hadn’t underestimated the depth of his brother’s feelings for Wei Wuxian… It was no wonder Wangji overexerted himself and reached the Burial Mounds before the siege did.

The pain on Wei Wuxian’s face made him stumble. The guilt on his face had left its mark on his once-youthful face. His eyes were dull, and his smile, ever-present in his teenage, was twisted into a loathing grin. One directed at himself.

No. Lan Xichen won't sympathize with that man. Doing so was the cause of his brother’s downfall. He needed to hate him forever and needed to ensure Wei Wuxian got what he deserved and more.

“I didn’t come here to talk to you, I came here to tell you we’re having tea with the elders today. Make yourself presentable. Your Lan robes are there, wear them.” Lan Qiren had gotten Wei Wuxian an ill-fitting –more now than before because of all the weight he had lost— set of robes, plain white to signify that while he was married to the leader, he was nothing more than a prisoner. An unwanted.

Lan Xichen should hate him, he really should. It’d make things easier. So why then, did hearing Wei Wuxian’s heart-wrenchingly agonized sobs make him want to cry too?

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

“You are a disgrace upon this clan and to every cultivator alive! How dare you look at me with such an accusatory expression?” Elder Zhou yelled, breaking half a dozen rules about composure. Lan Xichen looked at his husband and realized the elder was right. Wei Wuxian was glaring at him. Could it be that he realized who argued with him the most to make sure he punished his brother with the discipline whip?

“You’re only lucky Xichen wanted you alive. Your status as his legal spouse is the only thing keeping us from seeking justice! You don’t deserve to take a single breath of Gusu’s air with all the crimes you’ve committed!” Elder Wang spoke up too and was it him or the Elders had invited them to tea solely to take turns hurling accusations at Wei Wuxian. He had thought this was a formality, yet there seemed to be a reasoning behind every carefully worded barb. And it was working. Wei Wuxian’s clenched hands were shaking, his lower lip was bleeding from how hard he was biting it and there was an unmistakable wetness in his eyes.

“I think that’s quite enough.” He stood up, offering Wei Wuxian his hand. His husband quietly followed his lead. “Don’t forget in whose presence you are because you all have broken two dozen rules so far. Submit yourself for punishment tomorrow.” And then he was leading Wei Wuxian out and away from the Elders. Should’ve done this earlier, a voice in his mind grumbled and he was tempted to agree.

But the damage was done because as soon as they were in the Hanshi, Wei Wuxian fell to his knees, clutching his robes. His surprise made him speechless.

“Kill me, please. I can't do this anymore. Everywhere I look, I see him, I remember the lives I snuffed out and I feel the guilt. It's been getting worse, Zewu-jun, I can no longer take a single breath without feeling weighed down by self-loathing, deserved as it is.” His voice was hoarse from the tears, his form bony from starving himself, yet the grip on his robes was unyielding and spoke of someone who used to have so much power. And now he had been reduced to begging.

“It's killing me, I know that was the purpose but the soul-crushing agony I feel is unbearable. I am going insane and I don’t want to become a danger to the Clan. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I hurt another soul again. So please, please kill me. End this farce and free yourself. Shatter my soul too after so I can never reincarnate again. I don’t have a golden core so it’d be easy and I know I don’t deserve to ask this of you but please make it quick. I want to have one last moment without pain-“

“Wei Wuxian, calm yourself!” He fell to his knees and grabbed his husband’s hands. “Take a deep breath and explain what you mean.” Because he couldn’t have heard that right. Wei Wuxian was the strongest cultivator alive, how could he be that without a golden core?

“I would if it’d make a difference but… I can't, I can't breathe I can’t-“ Lan Xichen realized too late. Wei Wuxian looked dead, his outward appearance reflecting on his mind’s condition. He was right because Wei Wuxian was on the brink of insanity and begging him to kill him so his people stayed safe.

“He’s good, he’s one of the best people out there, Xiongzhang, so please help me bring him to Gusu.”

Ah. So this is what Wangji meant back then. This is why his brother wouldn’t budge in his defences of the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation.

I see it, I see it now, Wangji. But am I too late?

His eyes were a dull, lifeless grey. They seemed to be seeing through him. Wei Wuxian was dying. And most of it was his fault. He did this, he tortured the man his brother cared so deeply for with every member of the Clan. He should’ve felt happy, proud of breaking the feared Yiling Laozu. So why then, did the sight of Wei Wuxian almost dead make him feel like scum. Like a murderer. Like someone who killed an innocent.

Because that’s what his husband was. An Innocent. The pieces clicked in his mind. The rumours of Jiang Wanyin losing his core but coming back even stronger. The Demonic Cultivation. The pushing people away. The desire to stay away from Wangji yet be helpless to resist his light. The lack of Yin Hu Fu. The desire to keep one more person safe from his hands if that was the last thing he did.

Wei Wuxian had been innocent and Lan Xichen had committed a heinous, unforgivable crime.

“A-Ying, husband, I am here. I am here.” His hands were clutching at bony shoulders, pulling the man into his arms for a tight embrace. He held him as he shook, body wracked with sobs and unintelligible sounds of grief and guilt and he held him as his own eyes grew misty. He realized how every horrible thing that had happened to this poor, innocent man had his hand in it. He wasn’t any better than the things he was punishing Wei Wuxian for, was he? What was the purpose of being a Clan Leader, someone said to have infinite wisdom, both theoretical and real, if he was going to be blind in the face of his own guilt? He was a disgrace, he had tortured a man whose only crime was caring for others, and he had let others take part in his depraved schemes.

He was a monster.

“I am sorry, I am so sorry, please stay with me. Stay with me!” He couldn’t disguise the desperation in his voice as Wei Wuxian went slack against him. Would he be able to live with himself if Wei Wuxian died? Would he ever be able to face his brother with his hands tainted in his most cherished person’s blood? “A-Ying, A-Ying I am so sorry please don’t leave me, please! I’ll do anything you ask for, give you anything, please don’t go too, please please-“

He heard shouts in the background, he heard the word Qi Deviation being muttered and felt the oppressive feeling of untamed panic as the door to the Hanshi was kicked open. Yet his arms never let go of his husband, even when the world went dark.

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

He sat up with a harsh breath, wondering where he was. Looking around didn’t tell him anything. He tried to remember what happened, where he was… It was then he noticed a weight on his left hand and turned to look at what had him in such a death grip.

Wei Wuxian slouched on the floor, seemingly asleep. But the grip on his hand was unyielding. It was also warm. Warm with life. Warm with proof that his husband was alive and that he had time to make amends and be a better person for him and Wangji.

“A-Ying,” he whispered, and Wei Wuxian sat up with a grumble, eyes red with interrupted sleep.

“Oh… I should call the healers since you’re awake,” he muttered and moved to get up. Xichen wasn’t having it, so he pulled Wei Wuxian towards him, making him stumble and fall onto him gracelessly.

“Don’t go yet, stay with me, A-Ying,” he whispered in his hair as his arms tightened around his husband. His husband. Wei Wuxian was his husband. How had he never realized how significant that fact was?

“I- alright?” And then he climbed into the bed and wrapped his arms around Xichen, offering him comfort he didn’t know he needed so badly.

“You’re alright. I didn't lose you…” He shuddered at the thought and felt Wei Wuxian look up at him. “You’re here…”

“I am.” Lying was forbidden in the Cloud Recesses after all. “Where am I?” He still felt disoriented, as if he wasn’t quite feeling or seeing everything around him yet. His head hurt and it made him realize he couldn’t feel his spiritual energy.

“I had to seal your spiritual energy so it wouldn’t harm your meridians. You were qi deviating and I didn’t know what to do. Turns out it was a good idea because Xiansheng told me I just saved your life. It’s a little fascinating, he said he had never thought of stopping a qi deviation fit before it killed or permanently rendered someone from cultivating by sealing the energy and forcing the disruption to contain itself and-“ He tuned out the rambling in favour of staring at his husband’s face. For the first time in years, he saw the passionate interest reminiscent of a scholar again.

The war had taken so much from them all. He had forgotten it had been taken from Wei Wuxian too. His core, his family, his standing in the world, the reputation of his deceased parents. It had taken the spark, the warmth that had made Wei Wuxian Wei Wuxian and none of them had realized.

Seeing him now, so alive and only because he had gotten over his pain and guilt to save Xichen’s life. Watching him gesturing minutely with his hands as if he could draw him a picture of every genius thought that crossed his mind to explain his thoughts better, Lan Xichen realized he was alright. Wei Wuxian was alive and so was he. Their relationship had been riddled with pain and guilt, doomed from the beginning. But maybe, just maybe, they could make something beautiful out of it.

Beautiful… It was the same word he could use to describe Wei Wuxian now, with his eyes full of life and his voice going hoarse from the constant rambling. His cheeks were flushed and he was panting as he stopped his tirade and looked at him with a look full of so much indignance he giggled.

“You’re not even pretending to listen to me!” He wailed dramatically, a triumphant smile touching his lips as Lan Xichen laughed again. So this was Wei Wuxian, the real Wei Wuxian. Someone who was so smart, not just in mind but in action. Someone who was kind and selfless. Someone who found joy in making others happy regardless of who they were and what wrongs they had committed in life.

Lan Xichen didn’t blame his brother anymore. He could see it. Feel the first dregs of infatuation coursing through his veins as Wei Wuxian pouted dramatically at him. Feel a stirring in his heart that could only be the foundation of love as he tightened his hold on his husband. Feel the warmth of a blush as it spread on Wei Wuxian’s cheeks and his ears as he leaned forward to kiss his forehead, whining about how unfair he was being, taking away his thoughts just like that.

“A-Ying,” he sighed and Wei Wuxian’s flush darkened as he looked away from him, a shy smile touching his lips as he hugged him back harder with utmost nonchalance.

“A-Huan…” It was Xichen’s turn to freeze, his face beginning to burn and Wei Wuxian cackled inelegantly in his embrace.

They would be alright. There was a mountain of hurt between them, unanswered questions, withheld knowledge, the grief of losing Wangji, and the lingering effects of war, too. But for once, Xichen was convinced, his optimism not unfounded.

They would be alright and they would be happy. It would take time but he was sure of it, surer than he had ever been of anything.

He smiled down at his husband and pulled him to rest against him, a hand moving to stroke his hair. Wei Wuxian sighed softly and began the process of lecturing him about being reckless and following in his example of idiocy. And as those lips moved against his neck, reprimands falling from them against his skin, he wondered what it’d feel like to kiss them.

[mackjlee9]

|Part 2|Gally x Male!Reader [Fluff]

Warning; canon divergence, movie verse, ooc!gally.

Masterlist.

«««

The Maze Runner

Working with the rest of the Gardeners proved to be quite difficult, not because of the stubborn roots of the tree, but because the Builders were also working nearby, and that meant Gally was there.

(M/n) could feel the burn of Gally's stare on him as they worked, everyone around sensed the tense ambiance between them but only those who played true or dare knew why, the rest only thought that maybe Gally and (M/n) had some sort of disagreement or argument. But... If that was the case...

Why was Gally so calm and quiet? The builders realized how their Keeper just kept glancing at (M/n) or even staring, but he didn't look mad, he looked rather relaxed, going as far as to treat them more gently, giving them thoughtful advice instead of yelling at them until they understood what they were supposed to be doing. No one complained but it was a strange change of his behavior, which kind of worried more than one.

On the other side, (M/n) was irritated and felt guilty, refusing to talk to Newt whenever the blond approached him for something not related to work. He was really trying to think how he was gonna apologize and explain things to Gally without dying in the process.

And the time was approaching. At some point, Gally was gonna come over and take him away to talk, probably punch him a couple of times, but he'll just have to wait and see. But with the maze walls closing, it was time to start making dinner, so they only had another hour to work before eating and then, to bed.

"Dinner's ready!" Frypan called alongside Wyck, and everyone cleaned themselves up enough to be able to sit around the few tables and logs, enjoying a fulfilling meal. However, (M/n) could feel his stomach drop every time he made eye contact with Gally, making him lose his appetite.

He excused himself and sat by the bonfire for a few minutes, before he heard the crunching of sticks and leaves behind him.

"(M/n)," Gally was standing there when he glanced behind him, the light of the fire shining on him, "Come with me," he began turning his body to walk away, but his eyes remained on (M/n), waiting for him to stand up and start following him.

Releasing a sigh, (M/n) stood up and put his hands in his pockets, following Gally into the meeting hall. He was worried, maybe Gally was actually gonna punch him, but even if his fist didn't collide with his face as soon the door closed, it definitely would after (M/n) tells him the reason behind the kiss.

They stood there for a few seconds in complete silence, an awkward and tense silence that neither of them knew how to break. But (M/n) couldn't hold back anymore.

"Gally-" releasing a deep sigh, Gally took a few steps forward, placing his hands on (M/n)'s shoulders, looking him in the eyes, effectively making the (h/c) haired male shut up.

"Listen, I..." (M/n) blinked a few times at the sight of a hesitant Gally, he rarely seemed this way, unsure and anxious, it was strange, "I think I like you," with wide-open eyes, (M/n) stared at Gally as he shifted in place, "Maybe it's not love what I feel or more like I'm not sure if it is, but..." Gally took a few deep breaths, his grip tightening on (M/n)'s shoulders as a way to try and calm down his racing heart and shaky hands, "I feel something, and even tho I'm scared, I wanna... Try this out, maybe, if you're up to it...?"

(M/n) has never heard Gally sound so vulnerable, he was showing him a side of himself he has never shown before and he couldn't ignore how the soft look in his green eyes made his heart beat faster.

Then there was the reason that caused all of this in the first place, and he knew he was gonna hurt Gally once he tells him, and he didn't want that. Especially not with the way his eyes seemed to be shining with hope, there was no way he could reject him, could he?

He opened his mouth to answer him, but he didn't know what to say in this situation, and Gally realized.

"Oh! You don't... Have to answer me now," he added with a nervous chuckle, releasing his hold on (M/n) and scratching the back of his neck.

(M/n) scolded himself and reached his hand to hold Gally's gently, making eye contact with him. He swallowed nervously and nodded, "I would... Like to try it out, Gally."

The usual superior smirk he saw on Gally was replaced by his genuine and shy smile, accompanied by a chuckle and a squeeze of his hand.

(M/n) had no idea what he had just gotten himself into, but there was no going back now. Even so, he couldn't help but think that he would be able to learn more about Gally beyond that tough exterior he had.

///////

The following days were a little awkward for them, still trying to understand how to work this out, and (M/n) ignored everyone's questions regarding Gally, there was something in him that didn't wanna say anything about the situation, most likely because he didn't want to hear them make fun of Gally, who had proved to be quite the sweetheart.

Every now and again, Gally would give him his share of food or help with the garden when he didn't have much to do. They would spend most nights up late, talking a bit and knowing a bit more about each other.

It was kind of crazy how they had been practically living together for a year and didn't know anything about the other, maybe that was what started it all.

They still behaved like friends around the rest of the gladers, and that didn't change much when they were all by themselves, they just weren't used to the physical affection so they were hesitant about it all.

And now, late at night while everyone was fast asleep, they were sitting against a tree trunk on the edge of the woods, looking up at the moon shining bright on them and the stars littering the night sky, they were in complete silence, enjoying each other's company.

Gally turned his head to look at (M/n), blinking slowly and sighing deeply as he looked at him, catching (M/n)'s attention, who couldn't help but feel a little shy under Gally's stare.

Feeling like words would break the moment completely, (M/n) remained quiet, staring into Gally's eyes. He saw him smiling sweetly, his green eyes shifting from looking at his (h/c) eyes down to his lips. (M/n) couldn't help but do the same, staring at Gally's slightly parted lips, he took in a deep breath and slowly leaned closer, hearing how Gally held his breath.

For a moment, he thought Gally didn't want to kiss him, but the way his hand reached up to hold his face gently made a shiver run down his spine, his green eyes were locked on his lips, his mouth opening and closing every few moments, their breathes mixing at the closeness of their faces.

"Please..." (M/n) barely heard his whisper, watching him bite his bottom lip and shift in place, "Kiss me, (M/n)."

Closing the small distance between them, (M/n) pressed his lips on Gally's, hearing his satisfied hum as his hand moved to the back of his head, gently gripping the hair on his nape to prevent him from backing away.

After what left like hours, Gally was the first one to break their kiss, and there was something about the gentle look in his eyes and the sweet smile pulling his lips that made (M/n)'s heart start pounding in his chest. He could look at Gally while his face heated up, watching him lean in to kiss his cheek before standing up from the ground.

"We should go to sleep, it's late," after blinking a few times, he grabbed Gally's hand that was extended to him, walking to the homestead and soon making their separate ways to head to their own beds.

(M/n) spent a few minutes awake on his hammock, frowning at the giddy feeling he felt on his body and the tingling in his stomach whenever he thought of Gally. He found himself soon sighing deeply at the memory of his bright green eyes, those eyes that had a tendency to look more blue than green and vice-versa on certain occasions, the freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks, the frown in his brow whenever he was focused on something.

He certainly couldn't just pretend he wasn't feeling something, but whatever it was that he was feeling...

He liked it, a lot.

//////

Ever since that night, everyone started noticing how close (M/n) and Gally seemed to have gotten, sometimes they even saw them playing around and they heard how happy Gally could be with the right person.

Despite the situation being a mystery to most of the gladers, the group that had been playing true or dare knew better than to think it was just coincidence. Something happened, that's for sure, but (M/n) wasn't saying a word about why he was suddenly best friends with Gally.

But soon, they found out why they were the closest friends now, only it wasn't simply them being friendly.

Like it was usual, (M/n) was gone after mumbling an excuse as he headed to the woods, and well, Newt made Thomas bring more fertilizer as it was usual nowadays, and he did. "Tell (M/n) to come back if you find him on your way!"

Thomas glanced back and nodded as he walked further past the trees, getting into the deep parts of it. He got lost in thought as he wondered what could've happened between (M/n) and Gally, obviously it wasn't anything bad, but it was odd, and unsettling. Maybe because he was used to having Gally yell at him and see him scowling every second of the day. He started to think that maybe Gally wasn't such a bad guy, he was just... Often misunderstood.

He stopped walking when he heard mumbles close by. He didn't realize he had walked way further than he needed, but his curiosity about who was in such a secluded place made him cautiously walk closer. Thomas was quick to recognize (M/n)'s clothes and hair from where he was standing, but there was a hand interlocked on his hair, which confused him, and leaning closer to get a better view, he covered his mouth to prevent the gasp that threatened to escape him.

The last thing he expected was to see (M/n) and Gally pressed so close together... Kissing. His eyes couldn't stare for longer, even less when (M/n)'s hands gripped Gally's hips tighter.

He realized he had to leave right that second or he would be found out, and who knows what Gally would do to him if that were to happen.

//////

Thankfully for Newt, the bell announcing lunchtime prevented him from telling Thomas- for the hundredth time since he came back- to get back to work.

He didn't pay much attention to how Thomas was behaving, but he realized how he couldn't even look at (M/n) in the eye without going pale and glancing away. So he asked.

"What's wrong with you, eh?" Newt casually asked Thomas when they were returning their empty bowls to Frypan, and walking out to rest for a bit before getting back to work. Thomas picked nervously at the skin of his hand and wrist, looking up at Newt from where he was sitting.

"I saw... (M/n) and Gally in the woods..." Newt turned to look at Thomas, there was something about the expression on his face that made him feel on edge, but he didn't say anything, "They were... Kissing..."

Right after saying that, Thomas stood up, panicking as he mumbled how he probably shouldn't have said anything about what he saw, but Newt did a good job at helping him calm down.

"Listen, let's just talk to (M/n) about it, okay? I'm sure he has an explanation," Thomas looked into Newt's eyes, seeing the reassurance he needed and he nodded a couple of times, "But first, we have stuff to do."

Working was quite difficult for Thomas, especially when he caught a glance of (M/n) playfully pushing Gally as they laughed before walking to their respective job places.

"Hey Newt! You need help?" The blond shook his head and silently signaled toward Thomas, who flinched upon making eye contact with (M/n), "Well, greenie, let me help ya."

Despite what he had seen, Thomas realized that (M/n) was the same as always, there was nothing different about him, and he wondered how he managed to hide so well the fact that he had something going on with Gally.

Lost in his mind, he didn't realize the automatic movement of his body, ending up cutting his skin open. Nothing too serious, but it was a cut on his palm, so it was bleeding quite a bit. (M/n) heard his hiss and curse, making him look toward the greenie, who was looking down at his bloody palm.

"Oh god, Thomas," he dropped his tool and rushed toward him, helping him stand up despite his complaints that he was okay, "Let's just get you to the med hut, or it's gonna get infected, come on."

Newt watched as (M/n) dragged Thomas away and he muttered to Zart that he was gonna be right back, following after the two males. Gally saw this happening and he wondered what could've happened, he just hoped it wasn't anything serious.

But with the minutes going past, he saw no sign of either of them walking out, so he decided to momentarily stop what he was doing and go check. He wasn't sure why he did, but he wanted to make sure everything was alright in the med hut.

As he approached, he could hear their voices, gradually getting louder the closer he got, and he realized that they were arguing. Gally frowned at the sound of (M/n) getting into an argument with someone, since he was usually pretty calm and level-headed.

"This is all your and Minho's fault in the first place, Newt!" Gally stayed close to the hut, somewhat hidden as he listened in on their discussion, "None of this would've happened if you hadn't dared me to kiss Gally theat night!"

His breath hitched as he processed the words he just heard (M/n) say. So... That's why...

"Well, you are the one who's still exchanging saliva with Gally, and that's not my fault!" Gally frowned and clenched his jaw, closing his hand in tight fists. He was angry, sad, and disappointed, but most of all he felt betrayed. He was always honest about his feelings, and (M/n) was just making fun of him behind his back.

He was about to turn around and leave, when (M/n) spoke again, more calmly now.

"Newt... Gally isn't what everyone sees, he's not how everyone thinks he is. He's actually... Very gentle and kind, and..." Everyone waited impatiently for (M/n)'s next words, which seemed to take way too long, "I love him. I really love Gally."

Feeling his face heating up, Gally left the med hut and walked back to the builders. He tried to concentrate on the blueprint he had in front of him, but he couldn't, those words repeating over and over inside his mind, but he soon saw the three males coming back, (M/n) walking at the end, looking down at the dirt under his boots.

'I really love Gally.'

(M/n)'s words echoed louder than before, and he couldn't help it.

He began stomping his way to the (h/c) haired male, a scowl on his face, "(M/n)!" He called loud and clear for the gladers around to hear him. Gally's demeanor and body language made everyone think he was gonna punch (M/n), and some of them were ready to break the fight if it happened.

But it never came.

Lifting his arms, Gally held (M/n)'s face still as he leaned closer to him, completely cutting his words as their lips pressed together.

A collective gasp was heard in the Glade, everyone staring with wide eyes at the scene before them. Even (M/n) was staring at Gally in shock, completely frozen in place, which made Gally chuckle, his fingers moving (M/n)'s hair away from his face.

"I love you too. A lot."

The silence was filled by the cheering coming from the builders, soon followed by the Cooks and pretty much everyone that had been there to witness their kiss.

(M/n) felt his whole body heating up and he saw the bright red blush that coated Gally's face, making his freckles more noticeable.

"I'm guessing you heard?" He nodded and reached down to hold (M/n)'s hand when he saw him glancing away.

"We have to talk later, but... We should get back to work for now," Gally let go of him and turned around, ready to head back to work.

"Hey, Gally," he heard (M/n) calling him, making him turn around, only to be caught off guard by another kiss. He let out an involuntary hum as he closed his eyes, but it was short-lived. (M/n) backed away, chuckling at the flustered look on Gally's face as he headed toward the gardens, "Love you."

Hearing chuckles and giggles around him, Gally glared at them, not needing to say anything for them to scramble back to their job places. He grinned to himself and sighed, thinking about finally being able to concentrate on that blueprint.

[optiwashere]

4, 22, 69?

Thank you so much for asking for these 💜

4. Answered here!

22. What is your Tav's first impression of the other companions?

After getting to know them a little bit in Act 1, Asheera thinks... Lae'zel needs to calm the fuck down. She's right about a lot of things though. Shadowheart needs to talk to someone. Like, really have an open conversation about feelings. Gale needs to take a breather and think about himself in a way that doesn't relate to his magic capabilities or power. Astarion needs to trust someone other than himself. Wyll needs to let himself be something other than a constant Other in his own life. He's more than a hero, a monster slayer, or a son. Karlach needs a long vacation away from any fighting at all, and she needs a good friend. Halsin and Minthara have pretty divergent appearances in my fics, so I'll just say N/A here lol. Especially in the first fic in my Shadowheart/Asheera series... Minthara, my beloved why did you have to do that to them lol.

69. Does your Tav run into Orin? If so, what's their first opinion?

I'm trying to remember back to the first playthrough, and I think that she meets Orin as that Fist in front of the barn. In my headcanon world, where everything is true and real, they come into contact with Orin at the smith in Rivington. Having Orin confront her with all this talk of wanton violence, how best to kill someone, and then be threatened by the smith afterwards? So juicy for her! Also, I think Asheera would have an immediate hatred of Orin for doing that to her.

[fallen-in-dreams]

CHAPTER THREE on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 4,812.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Enjoy. :)

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

For reference: Menbā: a derogatory term for someone who is considered a criminal. Uragirimono: traitor, turncoat, etc.:

Tumblr version:

Oh God, I'm thrown. I am only happy on my own. My heart grows harder, it wants to perform. And I only ever feel it when I wanted to be torn. To be torn.

-- To Be Torn, by Kyla La Grange

.:.

I can’t do this.

This thought was immediate and harsh in her mind. But after a long shower in which she’d taken full advantage of the supplied body cleaning products as well as an experimental bout of relief from the removable shower head, Sakura was feeling a little better about her situation. A bit of touching here and a lot of extra water pressure there, and she was refreshed, tingly, relaxed, and something akin to happy. Her sensitive nerves drawn out and heightened, even if for a short while. Her building headache had simmered down, and she had a plan of sorts in mind. Well, more like mental images and a bullet-point list of things to do.

Acting like a normal human being had not been on that itinerary, but it should have been expected. She didn’t want any more suspicion to be cast on her. She scoffed at herself for her stupidity. Sakura needed a clean escape for when the time came.

If it comes at all.

She scoffed again. Her new housemates were clearly expecting her to be normal.

“Clean up,” Kankuro had told her (while she was panicking and ignoring him). “Join us for dinner later.”

Might as well get ready for that.

Standing in her room, holding a towel to her damp body, and rifling carelessly through the boring choices in the almost bare closet, Sakura sighed and grunted at each and every lame item of clothing inside. She didn’t have this in her. Not anymore. The old Sakura would’ve just politely followed direction and smiled in all the right places while she secretly basked in the selection of free clothes at her disposal. That Sakura would be tossing out all the simple items and scrounging around for the prettiest and most lavish looking clothes. Because she always had someone to impress, even after she stopped acting like a cliché fangirl and finally grew up. It used to be Sasuke then close friends…

Ugh.

Sakura shuddered, angry at her regressive thoughts.

No Sasuke. No friends. Not anymore.

She hadn’t had down time for twelve months and it was messing with her head. Now that she had time to dwell on everything and everyone that had happened and disappeared from her life, her intrusive thoughts didn’t know when to stop. In that moment, she missed the cold comfort of working too much. It had kept her alive, warm, and hot and cold all over. But now? Now, she couldn’t distract herself from the pain that came with having nothing else to do.

She shook slightly and pushed her emotions down as much as she could, her fist clenching a particularly top that reminded her of a bland looking version of her old qipao dress, just in shirt form. Just remembering the ghastly outfits that she used to wear made the clanging in her head echo louder. Sakura closed her eyes desperately.

Not out of the woods yet.

She was still in that tree stump, bleeding, broken, and surrounded by foreign ninja. Blood did not dry quickly in the warm, forest climates, so she was still sticky and wet. Her body shuddered with the phantom sensations. But she couldn’t let her guard down now. Not even here.

I can do this.

She had to. Sakura had no idea what was waiting her during this dinner with Gaara and Kankuro, but if she couldn’t do this one simple thing, then what hope did she have for the rest of her stay here? She nodded to herself as her body trembled; pins and needles preceding a rush of exhaustion.

But it was with renewed determination that Sakura sorted through the closet, putting aside anything that reminded her of the old days. There were no knickers or bras (she wasn’t well-built, so to speak, anyway), but she found a formal-looking top and a pair of trousers that matched. The pockets made her think they were men’s trousers, but she didn’t care. Black sandals at the bottom of the closet were an easy choice to go with the grey, black, and red colour palette of the clothes and she slipped into them, running a distracted hand over herself, like she was trying to smooth down wrinkles. She found a brush and quickly ran it through her hair, wincing at the slightly painful tugs. It had been too long since she’d taken care of herself.

Sakura surveyed the stranger in the full-length mirror behind the large closet door and sighed. It would have to do. She wouldn’t be winning any beauty pageants but that hardly mattered anyway. She checked the time. Kankuro said that dinner would be served at six. She sat on the edge of the bed and twiddled her thumbs, trying not to think of anything in particular and just keeping her eye on the slow-moving hand of the clock on her wall. Idleness was going to be the death of her.

When it was time, she narrowed her eyes at it for a moment before reluctantly standing.

Here goes.

Before leaving the room, Sakura took out the stick of charcoal she kept in her travel bag. She didn’t have the right type of sharp implements for this job, funnily enough, so this would have to do for now.

I’ll cut it open when I find one.

Taking a deep breath, she used the charcoal to draw the kanji for “one” on the back of her bedroom door, nice and clear and in the upper corner, so she’d have plenty of space to write more. She wasn’t going to be here long enough to cover the entire door, but the anal part of her wanted it to look neat and tidy anyway. Satisfied with her handiwork, Sakura tossed the charcoal back in her bag. Dark, obsidian eyes flashed in her mind, and she hesitated, staring at the compressed carbon residue masquerading as a drawing implement. She swallowed heavily. Memories pushed at the edge of her mind of the artist this had belonged to. Her friend.

Sakura closed the bag to shut out those thoughts and took another deep breath to steel herself.

Happy place. Happy place. Happy place. Happy place. Happy place. Happy place.

“No such place.”

Sakura swivelled at the sound of the voice but saw nothing.

I’m talking to myself again.

She hadn’t forgotten that mirage with her face. And it hadn’t forgotten her either, it seemed.

Sakura opened the door and quietly closed it behind herself. The smell of food hit her, making her stomach rumble painfully, and she could hear voices in the dining room downstairs. She froze up, hand against the wall to steady herself.

Not now, she told her anxiety. What the fuck? Calm down.

After a moment she was able to plaster something that looked like a smile to her face and make her way down the internal staircase. Her palms sweating, she stepped into the light of the dining room. Kankuro and Gaara ceased their conversation and Sakura swallowed her smile. Her face slackened as Kankuro pulled out a chair for her and the heavy eyes of the Kazekage watched her closely as she settled herself into it.

The smell of the food hit her nostrils once more, like a physical force and (once again) her stomach growled. Though far less painfully this time. She waited for the pleasantries to pass and gave the brothers a nod before digging into her rice and vegetables. She felt almost human. The food was so good that Sakura wondered who had cooked it. Neither of them struck her as the chef type. But then, appearances were often deceiving.

Kankuro explained that Temari was on a mission and Sakura nodded again. Gaara said a few things about some kind of renovations and his brother engaged him in conversation over idle topics. It was a casual setting, and nobody seemed interested in any of the heavier issues they were all thinking about. The elephant in the room, as it were. Well, maybe they were, but Sakura didn’t care one bit. If they wanted to take this engagement thing seriously, that was their problem.

But she did find herself curious how opinions in Suna had formed on the current ninja climate. What those in this room thought about everything. If they even knew the extent of Danzo’s reach. Or if they just saw him, and the rest of the ninja, as simply another leader and their hidden village.

Not that she had the courage to ask.

This engagement is mindboggling enough.

She wasn’t going to go along with it. She had a plan. It was simple, really: pretend to be normal, play at being the demure bride-to-be, scope out her options, and then think of how to evade her Root shadow long enough to get the fuck out of the village. They were very good points to consider, in her opinion. She’d done so much more crazy things on assassination missions. Of course, those were months ago, and she’d been running from one fight to the next ever since then.

All that blood does a good job of distracting me. Sticky, thick, ugly substance that is surprisingly easy to wash out.

From her clothes, at least.

Still, she was getting out of here, regardless of the methodology. And the idea that she might have to kill that shadowed, masked freak on her way out brought a small smirk to the corner of her mouth.

“Dessert?” Kankuro asked when they were all finished.

Sakura nodded and he left the room for a minute. A minute of Gaara’s curious, silent stares. Then she was feeding the hungry animal inside of her again. The one without the ability to snap back at her. She had no idea what this confectionary was called, but it tasted like a mix between ice-cream and salted caramel. She remembered suddenly that the Kazekage wasn’t a fan of sweets.

Where did I learn that from?

She wasn’t sure, but the redhead was eating his dessert, so it was clearly sugar-free. Sakura smiled slightly at that. Some things never changed. She swallowed the last mouthful and placed her spoon down, licking her lips greedily. Sakura hadn’t tasted anything this good in a long time. In between mission locations her food was either standard, dry ninja rations or involved caught meat that she either did or did not have time to cook first as well as whatever fruits and nuts she could scavenge. Sometimes she could steal food off her targets or sneak something out of a vendor, the ninja way, on her way wherever she was going. She always ate and ran.

A home cooked meal had been off the menu for almost two years.

Since Danzo took office.

She scowled lightly.

Stop fucking regressing.

She fiddled with the cutlery for a few moments before remembering she wasn’t alone in the room.

“I realise this is unorthodox and I apologise.” Gaara’s deep voice interrupted her errant thoughts.

Sakura blinked heavily and stared owlishly at him, her skin warming with the shame of embarrassment. What had he been talking about? He continued talking as though she had heard every word.

“Relations between our villages has been strained.”

No shit.

“But maybe this new agreement can help.”

Not likely.

Either Gaara was incredibly naïve, or he was just placating her. She didn’t know which was worse. She knew Danzo. This arrangement was nothing more than a distraction. That Root shadow was the one he should be more concerned with. The dark, ugly man whose only purpose here was likely to look for a way past the seals of the Kazekage mansion for no reason other than to fuck with everyone inside of it.

He can fuck himself for all I care.

Sakura leant back in her chair, returning Gaara’s intense stare. A bubble of confidence suddenly welled up inside her and she managed to keep her face straight as they held each other’s gaze. The pale green of his irises danced in the light of the candelabra in the middle of the table, and she was reminded of a green sapphire her mother had gifted her when she became chunin; a pale hue that she liked despite being lacklustre in any form of bright or ostentatious colours. It burned in her heart as a distant, longing memory. Gaara’s eyes suddenly reminded her of home.

And I kind of find it hot. Wacko.

Sakura swallowed heavily and splayed her hands over the tabletop, shifting her eyes away from Gaara.

You win that round.

“Please feel free to ask for anything you may want or need,” he continued, as though they hadn’t just been staring avidly into each other’s eyes.

Like star-crossed lovers too stupid to realise it.

She nodded her head, not sure her voice would come out as strong as she’d want it to. Gaara didn’t seem to mind but Kankuro was clearly becoming at least mildly curious regarding her silence. He cleared his throat, but she ignored him. She had no idea what to say to Gaara’s idea of hospitality, anyway.

Gaara cocked his head to the side in much the way that Sakura had seen former Hokage when they sensed nearby Anbu. She forced herself not to mirror his movement as she tried to detect the subtle chakra they would be giving off and sighed when she ultimately failed.

Suna Anbu must use a different subtle method to gain their Kage’s attention.

“Temari might not get back for a while,” Kankuro said to his brother.

Had Gaara said something? No. There seemed to be some kind of intensity in the way he was looking at his older brother. Sakura had heard that sometimes siblings were close enough to simply understand each other that well. Much like two people who’d spent way too much time together. And it could have something to do with the Anbu that Sakura just knew was there.

She clenched her fists to hide the trembling.

“Temari is not the only kunoichi absent from the village.”

“True.” Kankuro sat back in his chair and smiled genially at Gaara before turning to Sakura. “Gaara and I might be stuffy and useless–” Gaara huffed slightly. “–but we know when we’re out of our depth with women.” He chuckled.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I am,” Kankuro said. “And for you too.”

“Hm.”

“You should be glad I’m including you. Wouldn’t want to feel left out, right?” The older brother laughed as Gaara sighed and leant back in his chair.

Sakura relaxed her hands and splayed them over the table, staring down at her empty plate.

The brothers exchanged a few more words before Gaara cocked his head to the side again.

Anbu getting busy tonight.

At least someone was, she supposed.

“You’re not better with women than I am,” Kankuro said, almost as though he’d forgotten there was an actual woman in the room with them. He puffed out his chest. “They’re lining up to date me.”

Gaara scoffed softly, eliciting a soliloquy about the perks of being the Kazekage’s brother from Kankuro.

A heavy weight settled on Sakura’s chest, and she felt a slight sting, biting her lip to swallow a light gasp. She shifted in her chair.

“Well, I guess you don’t have to be good with women,” Kankuro mumbled once he cottoned onto the fact that no-one in the room was impressed.

They both glanced at Sakura as she fiddled with her thumbs, crossing, and uncrossing her feet self-consciously. She had nothing to add to their weird, sibling dynamic. She’d never had any brothers and sisters and these two were acting very strange. Sakura tuned them out as her vision blurred slightly and she closed her eyes. She was feeling light-headed and just wanted to head back to her room. When she opened her eyes again, the brothers were back to exchanging barbs with each other.

Do they always talk this long after dinner?

She had to leave the room. Sakura tried to think of an excuse to get away. In the meantime, she just needed to act normal.

“You’re not normal.”

Her head snapped up and she glared at the fourth person in the room, even as her heart raced, ignoring that conversation around her had suddenly gone quiet.

Not even a person.

It hit her with startling clarity, and she almost let out a rasp of laughter.

I can’t pretend to be normal.

.:.

Pity.

That was the dull light in their eyes. Even in Gaara’s.

She didn’t want it.

Sakura excused herself with a quick, mumbled apology and no explanation, but remembered to bow in respect at the last second before fleeing the room and half-running up the staircase. Silence followed her until she slammed the door behind herself, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Sakura gasped and stretched her fingers outward as she trembled. What Gaara and Kankuro must’ve thought meant very little to her other than the inevitable embarrassment for their next encounter. At least, that was what she told herself. It seemed that even after two years of thinking she’d grown numb to it, the old Sakura who was easily embarrassed and cared what other people thought of her wasn’t long dead after all. But she wanted it to be. She wanted to take a kunai to the throat of her old self and be done with it.

She was an idiot.

And a loser. And weak. And pathetic. And all the other things Danzo told her she was now. He was an arsehole but very right about her. Why else was she still here and not half-way to the North Sea? She could be almost anywhere right now.

I am an idiot.

But she was better off now. In many ways. Who she’d been before, that silly girl hadn’t been able to save Lady Tsunade from the coup. From Danzo’s kunai. She hadn’t been able to follow Shizune out of the village. She’d been less than useless as fires and smoke and the cries of battle raged around her. She hadn’t been able to find any of her friends before it was finally over. Not even in the ashes. She’d been too weak to kill the Root following her as she tried. Broken earth and broken ribs; she fallen so hard.

Sakura let out another gasp that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

And now she couldn’t even pretend to be normal for a few hours to keep anyone from asking questions she didn’t want to answer. Maybe she was still that idiotic, weak child after all. Gaara and Kankuro probably thought so too. Were they laughing at her? Or only sighing in disappointment? She was a major disappointment.

“They think we’re insane.”

We?

Sakura chose to ignore that train of thought. She had made a fool of herself enough for one night. Her first night in Suna and she was barely holding it together. Gaara and Kankuro didn’t know her well enough to realise just how far off the rails she was, which was a point in her favour. But that wasn’t going to last forever. She needed to get a grip. She really didn’t want to hear their questions if they thought to ask them.

Sakura settled her nerves as she moved toward the bed, only now realising there was something on her dresser. A package. She stopped suddenly, narrowing her eyes at it from the middle of the room.

How did that get there?

Her brain flitted back and forth between weird genjutsu ideas and those times Gaara sensed Anbu nearby. Hm. She wondered if there were any animal summons in the village that were difficult to detect. The package looked like a normal one, with her name written across the small card on top. There was even a bow knot on it, like one would tie to a present.

Weird.

Sakura walked slowly over to it and performed the few detection jutsu she knew from her Root commander’s training. A series of quick, simple hand signs later and there was no chakra reaction from the wrapped package. Not a chakra bomb, or anything of the sort, at least. She wished she had an actual kunai as she tentatively tapped the parcel with her forefinger. She hadn’t sensed any chakra signatures in the mansion during the dinner, so she decided those Anbu had to have delivered it. Or someone else who deliberately suppressed their chakra inside their own, friendly village.

Even weirder.

She fingered the card gently, reading the short message silently. It was from two people called Matsuri & Yukata. Sakura vaguely remembered the names like a distant memory from a past life come back to haunt her. She had a visual a few minutes later as she rolled their names over her tongue. Right. Gaara’s very emphatic fangirls. She smiled at that.

What do they want?

Throwing caution to the wind, Sakura roughly undid the bow and opened the package, tossing the ribbon and now broken box aside carelessly. She held her gift up to the lightbulb on the ceiling. It was a cactus. She frowned, then reread the card. They didn’t mention what kind of cactus it was, and she’d never seen it’s like before.

“No doubt Lord Kazekage didn’t have much prepared for your arrival. We’ll fix that, don’t worry. We decided to get you a ‘Welcome to Suna, Lady Sakura!’ present, so WELCOME!”

The note ended in several smiley faces after their names, clearly added for dramatic effect. Emphatic seemed to be their default setting. This didn’t bode well. And what did they mean by fixing that? Were they going to buy her better clothes? Some feminine products? Or maybe some entertainment, like reading material. She smiled lightly at that. As long as they didn’t expect her to go to the store with them.

Nobody is ready to see my anxiety react to that.

Sakura put the cactus on her bedside table, pushing it to the edge furthest from her, then sat on the bed and sighed. She looked around the room. Really looked. Aside from the barest of furniture and no personal touches, which was to be expected, it did well as a temporary guest room. Nothing glamorous, just functional.

Almost like she was in a low-budget hotel.

She glanced at the cactus before turning away, kicking off her shoes and climbing under the bed covers, fully dressed. Sakura stared up at the ceiling.

Okay, I’m fine.

There was no threat here. She rolled over on her side, facing away from the bedside table, and closed her eyes. But the night was a cruel bitch and as she drifted off to sleep, that familiar pull into the dark, broken recesses of her mind was her only warning before everything went black.

.:.

She was back in the forest, stumbling as she tried to find a hiding spot to avoid her pursuers. The mission had gone wrong, on an epic scale, and now she was the only one still standing. The captain had died first, the other Anbu shortly after. Their screams followed her as Sakura moved between the trees, blundering along as she tried to rush her tired legs. She kept falling against the wide oaks and tripping over exposed roots. The cries in the distance were no longer her Anbu escorts. They were her hunters.

Sakura pushed herself off a thick tree trunk but instead of barrelling her way through the brush, she toppled forward, and face planted. She wasn’t cognizant enough to feel embarrassed, merely laying there, breathing in the musk of forest floor, then gasping when something started crawling over back and an insect decided to go for her mouth. With effort, she pushed herself onto her knees, spat the bug out, and then looked around anxiously.

What to do, where to go… she did her best to hide her tracks as she stood shakily, then gasped at the renewed pain in her side. She had no idea where to go and any minute now, they were going to zero in on her position.

“Where are you, little menbā? My little uragirimono”

No time to debate it. The hollowed-out tree trunk she’d fallen next to was large enough, she supposed. Dragging her pitiful arse along and gripping her travel bag like it was a lifeline, Sakura hauled herself into the relative safety of the trunk; the overgrown shrubbery hiding her from sight. Her vision blurred. Her feet were suddenly numb. Darkness crept in around her. And she was gone.

.

A dull thud. Her eyes snapped open. A distant soft light illuminated the ceiling above her as it blinked into existence. Her conscious mind was fuzzy as she blinked heavily, registering that she’d just been asleep. But something felt… wrong. Her body tingled as heavy breathing caught her attention and she stiffened. She turned her head to the side. Sakura let out an ear-piercing scream. Two beady eyes stared back at her as she tensed. When the breath from her short-lived scream finally left her, she gasped and then pushed away from the mirage. A maniacal grin on its face, it stood as she managed to back into the middle of the bed, just watching her. Nothing about it had changed: the same wounds that made no sense, the same torn and bloodied clothes.

My dream… no, my nightmare.

She was fully awake now.

Sakura grasped her chest, unable to break eye contact with it and unable to calm herself down.

“You’re going to die here,” it said, its mouth moving out of synch with the words. “And nobody will care.”

Sakura scrambled further away, gasping, and toppling over the edge of the bed. She stayed on the floor for a few minutes, shaking and trying to remember the breathing exercises she’d learned during her work at the Konoha hospital.

Breath in. Breathe out. In. Deeply. Out. Deeply. Rinse and repeat.

When it finally started to work, she turned around and continued the mantra in her head as she peered over the bed. The mirage was still there. Her race started racing but it didn’t give her time to resuscitate her courage. The mirage cocked its head then flickered and disappeared.

“Fuck.”

Sakura let out a loud groan. She slammed her hand down on the mattress, screaming silently at herself for letting this get her so worked up. She hated this moment of peace. She hated being idle and weak and forced to remember. Tears burned her skin and she sobbed. She wished she was back in the forest. Everything in there made sense. She was running for her life but at least she didn’t have the time to dwell on it. It was better. It was pure.

Sakura groaned again. She was self-aware enough to know how fucked up that thought was. She pulled herself up onto the bed and returned to her breathing exercises.

Breath in. Breathe out. In. Deeply. Out. Deeply. Rinse and repeat.

Her skin was moist as she hugged herself tightly. She’d gone to bed in the outfit she’d worn to dinner, and they were currently sticking to her like the sticky, sweaty sparring clothes did after a heavy workout. She laughed softly. Of all the things. But hopefully this incident was just the exhaust pipe of her emotions, and it wouldn’t be like this every night. She’d gone without sleep for large periods before, so if this happened again, she knew what to do.

Sakura pulled her legs up to her chin. Her first night in the Kazekage mansion and she was out of control. She listened for sounds of her housemates. If they weren’t heavy sleepers, they could’ve heard her initial scream. Her own eardrums hadn’t managed to absorb the sound, due to her distress, but she was pretty sure it had been loud.

Her heart hammered in her chest as the minutes ticked by, but nobody came. Relief flooded through her. Nobody was coming to check on her. That was both insulting and soothing. The last thing she needed was more pitying looks as she tried to explain away her scream.

Her body shuddered as she curled into a foetal position, on top of the bed covers and closed her eyes, hoping for a swift end to it all.

Please let the darkness take me.

She didn’t notice the eye made of sand watching her in the corner of the room as exhaustion finally took her. Nor the concerned frown from its owner.

.:.

[maningrey0204]

for character ask meme, emiya alter ^^

(based on this post)

thank you, anon :D I hope I'm not too late to this ask meme thing in the FGO fandom, because I will happily gush about Emiya Alter to anyone who asks. that man needs more love.

favorite thing about them just one? all right. Emiya Alter's gone through so much-to the point where it clearly had lasting & damaging effects on him-the nihilism, abysmally poor memory, self-destructive tendencies, etc etc. he's symbolic of the "Hero of Justice" role to its furthest ends, a "weapon" meant to be of service whilst his own identity is pretty much an afterthought. but he also dives for Melt, giving her the second chance he never had. he guides Ritsuka out of his own hellish mindscape, and gives them a tow cable-a lifeline-for a Valentine's gift. he assists Voyager in saving Erice, and there's at least one or two lines where he can relate to her being an agent of death. there's hope for him yet, even though he's reached his own tragic ending. his ideas of "help" can be messed up, obviously, but he's going out of his way to try if nothing else. moreover, he needs some peace of mind after basically going through hell and back.

least favorite thing about them his original JPN design, obviously. the racism surrounding it has become indelible and synonymous with his character. obviously we don't know for sure, but it would not surprise me to learn that the reason he's received little attention in Craft Essence art is because of the controversy surrounding his character.

favorite line "Don't apologize. Good intentions are like sandpaper." I've probably analyzed this line to death, but I believe it summarizes Emiya Alter perfectly: a man whose own charity and constant vigilance for justice has eaten away at him. at the same time, he tries to disregard his own state of being as if it's no big deal; however, since he does not perceive himself as human anymore, the outcome is a lot more distressing than perhaps he might expect.

brOTP maybe Assassin Kiritsugu? I know, I know, Kiritsugu's basically a father to Emiya, but Assassin diverged from his own path in Fate/Zero so I'm sure it's fine here. my other brOTP idea is of him secretly thinking Hijikata's swordmanship is cool, even if he can't understand why Hijikata's so hellbent on upholding the Shinsengumi all the time. I can also see Alter putting up with Tamamo Berserker's outrageous behaviour towards him in a "I can't stand this, but she won't stop and it'd be a waste of energy" kind of way, and it developing into a strange but heartwarming bond later on.

OTP Emiya Alter x Yan Qing. I've only seen one (1) piece of content about it on pixiv, but they've got enough similarities (being Shinjuku villain Servants and having identity issues) and differences (Alter's serious and to the point, forging weapons-while Yan Qing is more flippant in a laid-back manner, using his fists & feet as weapons) that I'd love to write a fic shipping the two of them.

nOTP apparently a few people have shipped Alter with Kiara, of all people. I'm also personally not very fond of the Emiya Alter x Jalter pairing.

random headcanon Emiya prefers to eat alone, but he'll tolerate it if other Alters sit at his table. he wishes Nitocris Alter would stop talking about death so evocatively, as if it were a service she were performing upon other people; he sees death as an aid to his toolkit, and nothing more.

unpopular opinion I love his edgelord behaviour. it's incredibly comical how cynical he gets (his brooding over board games in BGA comes too mind), which is part of the reason. but there's something that just hits in how played straight his character usually is, and how genuine the depths of his despair go.

song i associate with them No title by Reol. a fitting song name for someone who's wholly embraced being Nameless. the chorus' lyrics particularly come to mind: Slowly and gently, it crumbles and breaks Wrap it slowly around my neck til I can't breathe And the me from yesterday was killed Slowly and gently, our scattered ennui When I hear you speak so unethically It turns to a voice I don't know

favorite picture of them he doesn't have a lot of FGO art, but I've always loved Emiya Alter's Formal Dress CE. it's sleek, sharp and overall just...so cool-looking. the pinstripe suit brings his self-ascribed mercenary role to a focal point; such suits are typically worn in professional settings, natch. then there's the smaller details, like the gears on his tie and how the tie bar on it has a Chaldean symbol. I also appreciate how his grey polo shirt is strained, emphasizing his muscles and torso.

[shewritesforlove]

I reread Diolomatic Relations (x) for the umpteenth time today and had a thought.

Teenage Lan Wangji had a reputation, even back then, for being something of a hard-core disciplinarian. I mean, if I remember write, Nie Huaisang even warned Wei Wuxian to watch out for "Not Lan Qiren, but his prized pupil, Lan Wangji", or something to that effect, on the first day they arrived.

Now yes, that reputation might be only within Lan Sect walls at that point (Nie Huaisang knowing because he'd attended the lectures multiple times), but think about it!

We never really got to see him interact with anyone other than Wei Wuxian in Canon for that time period, and well, Wei Ying has always been Lan Zhan's exception. (Who else managed to get Lan Wangji to draw his sword within minutes of meeting them when No Fighting is one of the Lan Sect rules?!)

So, what if it's even more of a thing than assumed?

Would even be hilarious if it turned into A canon-divergent AU.

Because I can definitely see:

Somebody making trouble and Lan Wangji showing up with that disapproving stoic face of his, only for Wei Wuxian to show up, and Lan Wangji just freezing from the onslaught of "Wei Ying!" pinging in his head, and by the time he remembers the troublemakers, they're long gone

Of course, eventually someone realizes that when Wei Wuxian's around, he sees absolutely nothing else and this is how Wei Wuxian befriends all of the Lan Sect (and probably his entire peer group) all in one go

Only, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian catch on eventually (they might be dense, but they aren't stupid). Lan Wangji would probably find out via the good ole fashioned, unintentional family intervention. Big brother's amusement that he's finally learning to let some of the minor infractions slide... and Wei Wuxian would probably have to overhear some of the Lan disciples talking, getting it literally spelled out for him, for him to figure it out

Dunno if Wei Wuxian would think it all a great joke or if it would be a golden nugget of truth that smacks him in the face, but we all know he'd act on it immediately. And Lan Wangji, well, now he's ready for it. He might still have no idea how he really feels for Wei Wuxian, but he's got one of two options: get stricter or foster a less hostile image, and well, even dense as a brick, Lan Zhan likes Wei Ying

So the counterattack begins: suddenly it's not that Lan Wangji doesn't notice anything, it's that when Wei Ying is around, he dishes out slaps on the wrist. All the while, of course, Wei Ying is determined to see how many of Lan Zhan's buttons he can push before that jade facade starts to crack

In true WangXian fashion, though, things only come to head in the Cold Pool somehow, and ribbons (both blue and red) get involved. I have no idea which verse I'm working with, but accidental teenage handfasting in a cage because of bunnies and ancestors is appealing and amusing (tho, I've never been all that amused by Yin Iron)

Only, they cone out the othersidr United, dammit. They both know what they did and the consequences they're going to have to deal with, because contextually, it wouldn't make sense for Wei Ying to not realize there's something off about the ribbon's meaning (seeing as to test Lan Zhan's "kindness" regarding broken rules, he'd have to pay really, really, close attention to said rules)

And so Wei Ying comes out with a new bracelet and Lan Zhan with a naked forehead, and the scandal shakes the Lan Sect upside down, but it quickly makes for changes--- because I forget what fanfic I read where something similar went down, but in the scene where Jin Zixuan got punched, Wei Wuxian felt the ribbon when be clenched his fist and remembered restraint at the last minute and that is *chef's kiss* beautiful, and so Wei Wuxian gets to stay and finish out the year

And Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji go night hunting when they get that far into the lectures, and Wei Wuxian trips into the baby Lan section at some point because he totally would, and throughout all of this the couple starts earning this distinctly unique reputation: Wei Wuxian is Lan Wangji's only soft spot.

[archangeltwins]

Title: About Time Some Deliverance Is Due

Rating: Mature

Fandom: canon-divergence from NCIS: L. A., and my own headcanons

Characters: Charlotte O'Lear ( oc ) & Achilles 'Akhos' Laos

Triggering Content May Include: stalking, mentions of obsessive behavior, physical abuse and related injuries, violence, alcohol

“Achilles?” No answer.

“Achilles.” The winds from the mediterranean had turned cold, chilling Charlotte to the bone. A storm was approaching. Poor ventilation let a breeze into the building; a dingy, dilapidated thing.

“Akhos fucking Laos, would you answer me already? I know you’re in there!” Charlotte’s fist curled around her phone. Quick bodily shiver.

There was a moment of silence, then came a mumbled, groggy curse as the speaker’s own was lifted. Static crackled. A gruff tenor filtered through, ending in a yawn. “Char, it’s too damn early.”

“But A, just-”

“No. Not again.” He cut her off. No chance at bargain. “Supposed to be working?”

She hummed on her end, reply full of thinly-veiled snark. “Supposed to be answering the door, Mr. Laos? Refusing a guest is impolite.”

Goddamn it.

With a groan he rose, clad in shorts and sleeveless tank. The apartment he’d bought out was small. No luxuries. No affluent fixings. Alleys of native greece a good place to disappear. Running a hand through shortened thatches of dark hair, he paused to check the keyhole - one hand lax on the knob.

True to what she’d said, the brunette was standing in the hallway. He turned his head away, eyes falling closed for a mere second, the briefest of memories resurfacing.

No. This is not anything romantic. Something in gut told him otherwise.

Steeling himself, he banished it deep. The door swung open with a creak. Dim bulb above framed Charlotte’s face in a halo of golden light, backpack slung across one slim shoulder.

“Going to make me stand out here all night?” She teased, and he answered with a grunt.

“Considered it. Renault revoke your privileges?”

“No,” she says, sidestepping around him. Damn the lack of maneuverable space. And damn his tiny entryway.

He shut the door, lock clicking in place. “And that brought you back? Irony or coincidence?"

"Both.” Charlotte hardly glanced back when answering. Shrugging off her pack, it landed with a muffled thump. He arched a brow, arms folding over his chest.

“Elaborate?”

“Shadow’s haunting me again. He caught me in a pretty bad spot. Wasn’t deterred by the metal I flashed."

Akhos’ scowl deepened, a dark look passing over his features. Shadow was code for an especially obsessive ex from years back. "Went lone wolf because you thought it’d protect. Become anonymous. Didn't work?"

"No. It-it didn’t.” She finally admitted with a sigh, rubbing her nape beneath waves of dark curls.

He took stock of her reaction before striding to a kitchenette. Withdrawing two beers from the fridge, he tossed one to her. It was caught with ease. "Send in a report of behavior? Did he do anything to you?”

Charlotte hesitated, thumb circling the rim. Gaze downcast, no longer level with him. She chewed her lip. The cold prickled. Clock-ticks echoed. Silence was to be taken as an answer in most situations, but not this time.

“Char, did or did he not put hands on you?” came the dreaded question.

“A, it’s really none of your business - ”

The beer bottle came hurtling down on the table. Liquid sloshed, Akhos’ fingers tightened on the neck. His response was a growling bark. “It IS my fucking business! One day he’ll go too far and you’ll end in a ditch!”

Charlotte took to her feet, own bottle left unopened. Who was he to attempt a shot at any of her past choices? He had his own skeletons shoved in the closet.

Teeth were bared, masking a grimace. “I’m not some fragile flower, Akhos! I’ve bested others of our division! I am - I was - your partner! Your equal! You think I’ll break from just a few punches?”

“You’re slipping. You packed too light. You’re avoiding using core muscles to bend and sit.” He continued, motioning to the dirtied backpack. “Which means, you’re injured. I need to know where, and how severe before you fuck up beyond repair."

Damn him and his keen observances. Damn that ingrained intuition.

"Just, show me.” He said, leaving the table with one chair ajar. Not leaping to assist as his stubborn white-knightedness tended to make him do.

His expression was currently unreadable, leaving her wondering just what machinations lay beyond those calculatory blues.

But he cared. They’d changed from exhausted to attentive so quick it honestly spooked her. Must really hate injustice, or women-beating bastards.

Fingers curling beneath her shirt, she caved, lifting it high overhead. The discoloration drew Akhos’ gaze then, boot-shaped and peppering her stomach.

Bruises weren’t the only injuries. Stark red stripes had turned her into a human zebra, some oozing blood, cuts shallow. Non-fatal. Her jugular was ringed with blotchy pink, which he came to realize were handprints.

“Going to fucking kill him.” Charlotte heard him utter under his breath.

“Akhos, no. You can’t. You can’t and you won’t - ” She begins to protest, watching as he closes the gap. Hand lifting, his fingertips trace dark outlines across her ribs. Featherlight in evaluation, brows furrowed.

She sucks in a breath between clenched teeth.

“Thinking he could do this without consequence was first mistake. Taking frustration out on you will be last.” Akhos murmurs. Some are inflamed, and cause her to hiss at irritation. Any other time she’d push him away. The handprints are of least concern - not dark enough to bruise, light enough that they’ll fade.

“You’ve got two, possibly three cracks. And cuts - the type a switchblade leaves. Wanted you to heal, to scar. Carry reminders written in flesh.” He adds. “First aid kit’s in the bathroom - ”

“Narrow hall hugging kitchen. Ten paces inside and take a left.” Charlotte responds, with a pained grin. “I know, A.”

“Then rest, use pain relievers. No compression gauze. If you do get hungry, there’s microwavables.” He mentions, offhandedly waving towards the squat freezer.

“Sounds appetizing. Can’t wait.” She gives a hum of acknowledgement, interrupted by a wince. “What, not going to help a lady in need?"

"Distressed damsel? More afraid of you knocking me on my ass. Both know I’ll leave - whether or not you agree with methods.��� He replies, downing what’s left of his beer.

“No gun. No knives. And no garrote, either.” Blossoming pain spread outward, adrenaline worn off.

Ten paces. This’ll be easy. One foot in front of the other, right? Drab beige wallpaper seemed to stretch, bright white spots dancing in her peripheral. Nausea twists her stomach in knots.

As she lets a shaky breath free, she faintly hears footsteps and then the door re-lock.

Well, damn. He did go.

"Asshole."

[lumilasi]

💝💞💌

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

That there's a story in the first place: build-up that leads somewhere, emotion/thought-provoking things that readers can feel and/or relate to hopefully, consistent enough characters, the list goes on. Its near impossible to choose what element is the most important, because to me its all puzzle pieces, that when put together, form the proper picture!

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

I suppose I was not expecting my first fic in the bnha fandom (Reanimate) to be so well-liked, let alone make 2 more that end up even bigger 'hits' so to speak lol

I don't really go out posting stuff with any expectations really? I guess what happened with Reanimate/Crossroads/Family Secrets just caught me off guard, as at the time I wasn't used to having so many readers for a story I'd made. Let alone 3 stories lmao

(Side note, kind of not really related to the question but also kinda sorta is I guess? This question just reminded me of this lol; I recently reread my bleach fic series 'Elementals' and my response wasn't pure cringe like I was expecting lol, I actually still reallly like that one a lot and think its worth a read, although its a tad too, er, spicy for my current style of writing lolol)

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

I'm sorta planning out a brand new Grimmichi fic for my OG Bleach fandom, the idea of which has haunted my brain for years. I didnt make it before cuz I was swept into my current fandom, but now I'm at that point where I need something else to work on alongside my main fandom writing to keep things fresh. Its a canon divergence type of thing that also includes a bit of childhood AU stuff, Ichigo complaining about Grimm smacking people with whatever he can get his hands on - only to realize later Grimmjow uses 'mediums' like that to lower his strength, because actually using his bare fists could Fucking Kill People - Grimmjow pretending to be human, first unknowingly then knowingly, and Urahara being involved in the Big Secret as usual.

Talking of the 'main' fandom as well, I have this huge scene planned in HoG where Sensei again has to save kidnapped Tenko, and he runs to All might and Nana as well, with Nana confronting him about the decay power he used earlier, reminding her of the carnage left behind at her son's house ruins. (They still dont realize who he is lol) that scene's gonna be fun and dramatic. I just dunno how to get there yet OTL

[omgdexnursey]

posting a snippet of a shitty/lardo fic i’m working on! 

(canon divergence; alcohol mention/content)

*

The first time he sees her is at a party at the football house.

He’s standing among the excited crowd of fellow drunk undergrads, looking on in awe as this tiny girl demolishes two of the linebackers in her third game of beer pong.

She lines up her shot, the corner of her mouth quirked up into a small smirk. With a flick of her wrist, she sinks her ball into the last cup on the other team’s side, and an uproarious cheer erupts from the crowd. 

In a matter of seconds, her partner’s hoisted her up onto his shoulders, and she raises her arms in victory. The linebackers on the other side of the table regard her with respect and good-natured defeat. 

“Lars! Lars! Lars!” the crowd chants. 

Shitty learns two things from this. One: That this girl — presumably Lars is a nickname — is popular enough to have gained even a mostly-drunk crowd’s approval; and two: that Shitty has only had a glimpse of what her pong skills are, as this is clearly not a fluke. In his foggy, post-4-cups-of-jungle-juice-mind, he thinks it’s an honor to have witnessed such an event. 

Shitty sees her fist bump one of the linebackers and give the other a high ten before departing from the table. 

He knows it’d be weird, not to mention really creepy, to follow her, even though she has the most effortlessly cool energy radiating from her. She’s the kind of person that you want to talk to, and be their friend, because you can just tell they’re endlessly interesting. 

He doesn’t stay to watch the next game, the image of her mouth curved with unassuming confidence burning itself into the back of his mind as he slips out of the room. 

*

Shitty walks down the upstairs hallway, pitying the players who did not lock their doors when he sees a giggling couple slip into one of the bedrooms. The bathroom door is slightly open, so he pushes it open, nearly hitting the girl inside with it. 

“Oh God- gosh- I’m so sorry,” he stammers, dropping his gaze to the floor and starting to back out of the door. 

“It’s okay, I didn’t lock the door,” the girl says. After a slight pause she adds, “I’m not naked.”

It sounds like an invitation for Shitty to look up, so he does, slowly. The girl from the pong table is standing in front of the sink, using the mirror to fix her eyeliner. Her eyes flicker to his reflection. 

“I’ll be done soon if you came here to shit or something,” she says, exhaling a mild laugh. 

“Not here to shit, but the name is Shitty,” he replies. 

Her eyebrows shoot up. “I beg your pardon?” 

“My name.”

“Is Shitty?”

“Yup.”

Despite the skeptical look on her face, she nods, as if to humor him. “Nice to meet you, Shitty. I’m Larissa.” 

“Larissa,” Shitty repeats. “What’s your major?” 

“Studio art,” Larissa answers, examining her eyeliner. “What about you?” 

“Double majoring in poli sci and Women’s Gender and Sexuality.” Larissa’s eyes meet his in the mirror again. “Turns out you can’t triple major, which is a major fucking bummer — no pun intended.” 

Larissa smiles. There’s a faint reddish pink stain around her upper lip, likely leftover from whatever she’s been drinking. “What would you have liked to triple major in?” she asks, capping her eyeliner and turning around to face him. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe something math related?” Shitty rubs his chin. “Comp sci would’ve been cool too.” 

Larissa wrinkles her nose. “Nerd,” she says teasingly.

“I’m on the hockey team,” Shitty offers. 

“So you’re a nerd and a jock.” 

“I’m multidimensional,” Shitty says, hoping it will make her laugh. It does. 

“I do love a man with multiple dimensions.” She cocks her head to the side. “Sorry, do you need to use the bathroom?” 

“Uh, kind of,” Shitty says, having suddenly been reminded why he sought out a bathroom in the first place. “Someone spilled jungle juice on me,” he continues, gesturing at his stained shirt, “and it’s starting to get sticky. Need to rinse my chest.”

“Ooh,” Larissa says, sucking in a sympathetic breath. “That’s the worst.” She grabs her solo cup and nods toward the door. “It was nice to meet you Shitty.”

“Likewise.”

She closes the door behind her, leaving him in the relative stillness of the small bathroom. He strips his shirt off and runs the tap, splashing water at the sticky spot of God knows what on his pecs. 

It’s basically become a ritual at this point to end up semi-naked at house parties, so he figures now is as good a time as any. He tosses his shirt over his shoulder and leaves the bathroom.

To his surprise, Larissa is sitting on the top stair, looking at something on her phone. 

“Were you waiting for me?” he asks.

She slides her phone in her pocket and twists around to face him. He doesn’t miss the way she opens her mouth to answer, then falters, eyes tracing a line down his neck to his waist. 

Her gaze darts back up. “No, I’m waiting for another hockey playing nerd washing jungle juice off his chest to come out of one of these bathrooms.” She grins, finishes her drink, and sets the empty cup on one the stairs. “Wanna dance with me?” 

Shitty takes her outstretched hand and lets her lead him downstairs, through the crowd into the living room. 

If you asked Shitty, he wouldn't be able to tell you anything about the music that played. Instead, he could go on about the way she looked, lit up by colorful LEDs, her silky black hair swinging freely, the look of carefree ecstasy on her face. Though he’s drank enough to feel it in the morning, he would swear the sight of her sobered him in an instant. 

As the song comes to an end, Larissa stands up on her toes, winding her hands in Shitty’s hair, and kisses him. 

She tastes like strawberry vodka and fruit punch.

[tempenensis]

Itadori Yuuji

“I have decided on how I want to die”

Profile 

Age: 15 years old Birthday: March 20th Birthplace: Miyagi Enrollment method: Scouted Jutsushiki: Nothing Technique(s): Divergent fist *has experienced Black flash Hobby/special skill: Karaoke, watching TV, impersonation Favorite food: Anything don (rice in a bowl topped with various things, like katsudon (topped with pork cutlets) or oyakodon (mixture of egg and chicken)), noodles Least favorite food: Nothing Stress: Science subjects (failed at molecular bio) Preference/type: Jennifer Lawrence (tall woman with big butts)

Q&A

Q: Please tell use the reason for his name.  A: His last name is from medicinal plant. His given name is from my classmate, which I think suitable.  

Q: Is his hair dyed? A: It’s natural.

Q: Does he usually talk to Sukuna? A: They don’t get along well.

Q: When he is alone, it seems that Sukuna talks a lot. Can Itadori sleep at night? A: It’s alright. Even along asphalt of Toumei expressway, Itadori can sleep fine. 

Q: If Itadori who has strong resistance against curses to eat Kusouzu, what will happen? A: In the circumstance if the current Sukuna is substituted by Kusouzu, the consciousness of the Kusouzu will disappear and Itadori will get its cursed energy. If it’s the current Itadori after he ate Sukuna, Sukuna inside Itadori will make the Kusouzu disappear. 

Q: Is there anyone who taught Itadori to master martial arts? A: No one specifically. His grandfather taught him a bit karate. “Manji kick” is picked up by Itadori, so his best move becomes “Manji kick”.

Continued Q&A, Black flash under cut.

Q: What are the title of movies he watched during Gojo’s training? A: My memory is faint, but I think they are “Leon”, “Descent”, “Guemuru” (Japanese title for “the Host”), “Yuki yukite, Shingun” (”The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On”). The one Gojo spoiled is “Deep Blue”.

Q: “This is the one thing I can’t forgive!” Does Itadori have something like that? A: An evil that makes someone nauseating. 

Q: Does Itadori have no friends other than in the technical college? Does he still keep contact with his friends from middle school and hometown? A: He has friends, but Itadori only started to bring phone when he netered the technical college. I’ll let you guess the rest.

Q: If he doesn’t become a sorcerer, what kind of profession will Itadori have?  A: Maybe something like a firefighter...

Q: Does he have favorite TV show and channel? A: Something related to variety of foods. He will laze around watching it if he’s into it. 

Q: What makes him attracted to Jenifer Lawrence’s butt and height? Please tell us the work you have see before.  A: “The Only One Playbook in the World” (”Silver LInings Playbook”)

Q: Is he the type to do school’s task and task over long break neatly? A: He’s the type to do it the day before. The type that may be late, but properly submit it. 

Q: What had happened so that he comes to be called “Tiger of West High” in his hometown? A: I really had not think about it at all, but maybe someone getting revenge at him for being beaten at fight, helping people and beat the delinquent, but it becomes an exaggerated rumor.

Q: If Itadori and Toudou goes to the same middle school not related to sorcerer, will they become friends? A: They probably will find something in common

Q: When he was asked to take photo with Ozawa Yuuko during graduation, how does it go? A: “Yes, photo, right? Yes, yes.”

Q: Itadori seems like he has a lot of clothes with attached hood, is this part of specific thoughts in his character design? A: Nothing in specific. The hood is Akutami’s habit. 

Q: (Akutami) told us before that you dislike Itadori, what is the reason of choosing a protagonist you dislike ? A: It’s not that I hate him, I’m bad at handling him. I’m working on the things I’m not good in the future. Rather than choosing, it’s more like it turned out  to be like this in the way.  

Black flash 

Black flashing light approaching the core of cursed energy

When cursed energy lands in 0.000001 second moment after a blow, the space is distorted and cursed energy flashes black. This “phenomenon” is called “Black flash” in the jujutsu world. “Black flash” is “critical hit of cursed energy”, so to speak. When it happens, the strength of average attack is exponentiated by 2.5, due to its circumstance there is no sorcerer able to exert it at will. Even so, for the one who has experienced “Black flash” and the one who hasn’t, their distance (understanding) to the core of cursed energy is like the difference of sky and land. The one who has experience it stands in another dimension.

[moonstruck-writing]

Another Step

Pairing: Luka Clemence x Alice (MC) | Ikemen Revolution

Prompt: Feb 7th – “You’re so clingy today. I love it.”

Event: Be my Valentine hosted by @xxsycamore and @chaosangel767

Rating: Explicit

C/W: fluff and smut, NSFW, 18+, established relationship, slightly canon-divergent

Summary: Luka and Alice celebrate Valentine’s Day together, and he prepares a surprise for her.

Canon-divergence: there are women (in soldier roles and other positions) in the Black Army.

Word count: 2.9k

Tagging: @ikehoe || if you want to be tagged for future works, from this or any other fandom, send in a private message!

A/N: This is my last contribution to the Be my Valentine challenge. I had so much fun coming up with ideas, and writing them! Thank you for organizing this event!!

“Alice?” Luka calls out to her from the other side of the room. He’s still perched over his desk, but his quill doesn’t move over his diary anymore.

“Mm?” She’s holding one of the books Ray had lent her on her lap.

“Would you like to have children in the future?”

They have been dating for a few months now, but it’s the first time any of them bring that topic up.

“Yes.” Alice feels a familiar fear begin crippling through her. Despite her lack of experience in love matters, she knows this can be a breaking deal.

“Have you thought about it before?” Luka is still facing the desk, which makes it impossible for her to see his face.

“Do you mean… have I thought about it with you?”

Luka turns around, heat soaring through his body.

“No! No... not necessarily. I just wanted to know if… you had always had the same opinion…or something.” His voice trails off, eyes downcast.

“Um… yes, I guess? I think that for as long as I can remember, I wanted to have children when I was older. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I always wanted siblings…” Luka just nods, looking attently at her while she speaks. “Is it weird?”

“No, I mean… well, I cannot relate to that desire for siblings you have, but a lot of people have ideas and dreams about their adult lives from a young age.”

“What about you?”

“I, uh…” Luka fists his hands over his trousers. “You know I didn’t have a great concept about family when I was growing up.”

“And now? Is it the same?”

“Living with and being part of the Black Army has taught me that there are other ways of being a family. That respect and discipline aren’t devoid of love and affection. That people really can have similar values. Being here… I feel part of a group, a family of sorts. And it’s an incredible feeling I wouldn’t trade for anything.” Luka gives you a small smile, and gets up from the chair, approaching you slowly. “And of course, there’s also you.”

It has been a while since their first conversation, and many more have ensued over the years. They have been dating for so long, that the Black Army joked about them already being married before they even formalized it.

They’ve had talks on when it would be better for both of them to have children, what they would name them, how many they’d like to have, who they think the children would end up resembling more, and even who they think the children would love a bit more.

It was just fun, an entertaining and dreamy way of spending their time, until it was more than that.

“Alice, I think I’m ready.” Luka stares at himself in the mirror, adjusting his clothes.

“Yeah, you look super handsome, my dear husband.” She finishes clasping a hairpin and approaches him, hugging him from behind.

“I don’t mean I’m ready to go on our date.”

“You don’t want to?”

“No, of course I want to, it’s… different.”

Alice furrows her brows and lets go of him, peeking to see his expression on the mirror.

“I’ll… tell you later. Let’s go, or we’ll be late for our reservation.”

He turns to her and offers her his hand, which she takes like it’s second nature. They leave their room, and even if it’s situated in the farthest area of the building, they still run into a few soldiers coming or going from their rooms. Alice smiles fondly, remembering when she first came in to live in Cradle.

It’s so far ago, that those days seem almost like a dream to her, something that didn’t happen in real life, something her imagination made up. Luka’s hand in hers reminds her that that’s not the truth.

“Alice and Luka, you both look lovely. Heading out tonight?” One of the new recruits greets them, and they stop to make small talk. Alice smiles as they say goodbye to her. It feels great to have women in the Black Army headquarters. It wasn’t until she made her first female friends there, that she realized how lonely she had felt.

“Everything okay?” Luka squeezes her hand.

“Yeah.” She smiles at him, and together they get a carriage to go into the Central Quarter.

The amount of PDA Luka is initiating tonight has Alice speechless. Holding hands over the table at dinner, casually brushing her hair away from her face, caressing her face languidly, firmly planting his hand on the small on her back when leaving the restaurant… She is loving this version of him, but she also wonders if he is forcing himself to do more than usual simply because it’s Valentine’s Day. She’d love it if it came naturally to him, but she loves his real self more than any other version he may create for her.

“Let me check first,” he says when he’s opening the door to their room for the night, and Alice awkwardly stands in the corridor. She’s a bit nervous to be spending the night outside of the Black Army’s headquarters, and it brings back memories of when they had first begun dating. “Okay, come in, Alice.”

She walks inside, and the sight of bright red petals scattered around the room, on the floor, the little desk by the window, and the big bed, make her smile bashfully. It’s so cliché, but she loves it. She absolutely loves that he has done that for her. It’s not so often that they can have nights like this one, and even if it isn’t the first time he arranges a room like that, it feels fresh, like they are their shy younger selves.

“Alice, don’t you want to take a closer look?” Luka sits down on the mattress and pats beside him. She soon follows and looks at the petals, only to discover there aren’t just rose petals in there.

“What’s this?” Her voice sounds curious as she holds one of the red paper hearts. It reads ‘I want to see many more sunrises with you.’ She looks at him and brings the heart close to her face, covering her silly smile.

“I wanted to do something special. Something different.” Luka reaches for her and cups her cheek, his thumb caressing her face while his index finger traces the shell of her ear. “Today is a very special day, and I wanted to make sure you felt it.”

She leans closer to him and kisses him with more passion than he was expecting. When they separate, Luka chuckles.

“I really… I want you to read all the messages before… we…” he trails off, sparkly eyes giving away his thoughts. Alice sighs as a way to try and calm her emotions. She didn’t think he would be able to move her to tears so easily once they were married, and yet, here he is, making her feel like a teenager all over again.

Luka gently pushes one heart closer to her, and she picks it up. ‘I want to grow old with you.’

She turns to another. ‘I want to be the person you can always count on, no matter what.’

Alice takes her shoes off and leans on the bed. ‘I want to make breakfast and bring it to bed.’

‘I want to surprise you with a new dish.’

‘I want to run a bath for you.’

‘I want to…’

There are so many things, so many words of love, that Alice really thinks her heart is going to burst. She feels so happy that for a second fear takes hold of her, making her worry this is too good to be true, that she is too happy. But then she sees Luka and knows this isn’t too good to be true, because it is true. He is her husband. He has made her incredibly happy in the past, and he will continue to do so. There is nothing to worry about.

Then, Luka reaches inside his pocket and hands her one last heart.

‘I want to have children with you.’

She gasps and looks at him, tears still blurring her vision.

“I am ready, Alice.” Her heart beats like crazy, and she reaches for him with trembling hands. He hugs her tightly and feels the rise and fall of her chest. “Love, talk to me.”

“I…” she presses away from him, tears staining her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so happy. But… I’m also scared.” He dries her skin with his hands.

“Why are you scared?” His voice is sweet like a lullaby, and Alice feels a pang on her heart, and tears dare to spill again. He will be such a good father.

“Because I’m so happy, and I love you so much, and this will be… all new.”

“Yeah,” he agrees and rubs circles on her back.

“You aren’t… scared?”

“I was, but now… I don’t know. I have this feeling that this is exactly what I have to be doing. What I’m supposed to do. And everything will be alright because we love each other.”

Alice flings herself onto his arms again, trying really hard to not cry, and completely failing.

“I thought… this would make you… maybe blush, but mostly just make you smile.” He says tentatively, unsure of the impact his words may have on her.

“I think you may have flooded my system.”

Luka laughs softly in her ear, and that helps her relax a little.

“What do you want to do tonight?” He leans back, looking at her face and brushing any wet strands away. “All these hearts, they are things I want to do for you, and they are… sort of coupons. You can use them whenever you want them. And they never run out.” Luka looks at the pile of hearts next to them and scoops a little closer to Alice, placing her legs above his. “I was thinking maybe you wanted to use some of them tonight. We could start with a nice and long foot massage, or perhaps-“

“I know what I want.”

“Yeah?”

“I want this one.” Alice hands him the heart saying ‘I want to have children with you.’

“Weren’t you… scared?” Luka observes her carefully, pretending there is no familiar blush spreading over his skin.

“A little. But now I’m mostly excited.” Alice presses their lips together. Luka scoops her closer to his body until she is sitting on his lap, and holds her tightly against him.

“Can you feel how excited I am?” Luka doesn’t look into her eyes when he breaks the kiss, but rather decides to focus on brushing her hair behind her shoulders, so he has better access to her neck. After a few sloppy kisses, Alice can’t take it anymore and pushes forward, making him fall on the bed.

Rolling up the skirt of her dress, she moves to straddle him properly and they both gasp at the contact of their sexes over their clothes.

“You know, once we have children, we won’t really have the time, energy or privacy to do this.” Alice grinds down on him, teasing both of them in the process.

“Yeah? We’ll have to have all the crazy sex now then.” Luka knocks her over and rolls on top of her. “Although I look forward to making love to you when our children grow up and leave the nest.”

“Once they’re not babies anymore we can just be quiet and sneaky.”

“Oh, some secret rendezvous, huh?” Luka wiggles his eyebrows and latches onto a spot below her collarbone, lapping and sucking at the skin.

“But I like knowing you want to make love to me even when we’re old.”

He looks up at her and smiles, kissing her lips tenderly. The gesture calms her heart a little, but she’s conscious other parts of her body aren’t calming down. They sit up to take off their clothes, Luka helping her with the buttons on the back of her dress. They place their discarded items on the chair nearby and look at each other.

“New?” Luka asks eyeing her underwear. He traces the edge of her bra, admiring the set. “How did you manage to keep it from me?”

“I have my ways.” Alice smiles mischievously and it sends a wave of excitement through Luka’s body. “Do you like it?”

“I love it. You look amazing in it.” He traces his lips over her ribcage and trails down to kiss her stomach. “Sorry I don’t have new underwear.”

“It’s okay, I think you surprised me enough for today.” She laughs, a bit because of his words, a bit because his lips are tickling her. He kisses down her inner thighs.

“You know what they say about November kids?” Luka looks at Alice from between her legs. “That they are Valentine’s Day children. I think that’s stupid. How could a single day encompass all that I feel for you? And all the things I want to do to you.”

“I’m probably not going to get pregnant today, Luka.” She smiles, reaching to card her fingers through his hair.

“It doesn’t matter. There’s no rush. It’ll happen when it has to.” He looks up to her and she cradles his face. Luka leans into her touch, moving side to side to kiss her palms.

“Can I take your underwear off now?” When she nods, he moves up to undo her bra. “It’s so beautiful,” he says while placing it on the chair next to them. When he takes off her panties, he smirks at her. “But it’s not as beautiful as seeing how much you want me.” He traces her labia, making her close her eyes to focus on the sensation.

He plays with her sex, smearing her wetness and teasing her with his fingers, before he licks a stripe from her entrance to the now prominent nub. He revels in her taste and scent, feeling a different type of hunger being alight instead of quenched.

Her moans fill the room, the freedom of being outside of headquarters spurring Alice on. Hearing her being louder than usual makes Luka work his tongue even faster, fingers unhurriedly entering her and feeling the clenching of her walls.

Once her moans die out, Luka stops his ministrations. He comes up to kiss her, allowing her some time for her body to calm down after that first high. She laps at his lips, enjoying tasting herself from his mouth.

When he begins fingering her again while still kissing her, Alice bites his bottom lip.

“I want you.”

“But you’ve only come once.”

She reaches down to stroke his hardened length, causing him to release a shaky breath. That convinces him, and he takes his fingers away from her heat. However, he is determined to savour the night. He takes his time kissing her breasts, swirling his tongue around the tight buds. His hands caress her arms, interlacing his fingers with hers. Before she can urge him to go faster, he pulls away and lines himself with her entrance.

When he enters her in one slow thrust, Alice shivers with excitement. She immediately covers her face with her arms, mortified.

“What was that?” Luka’s voice sounds curious and amused. When she doesn’t reply, he caresses her forearms, leaning down close to her. “I want to see your face, love.”

She finally takes her arms away from her face, and her flushed face emerges. Seeing her like that, making such an expression that both of them would’ve thought long forgotten, sends a new wave of arousal through his body. When she feels him throbbing inside of her, she can’t help but moan.

Their senses are enhanced by the shared knowledge of this decision, this new step they are taking together. They make love tirelessly, coming undone and resting tangled in each other’s arms before starting all over again, bodies never separating. At some point, tears of joy stain both of their faces. As spent as they are, they’ve never felt this full of love and life before. They’ve never been so close to each other, even if they had made love countless times before. None of those times had felt like this.

They stay cuddling facing each other, bodies still entwined in that primitive way. When the need to relieve their parched mouths is stronger than their hold on each other, Luka tries to move to get up and fetch some water.

Alice grunts in protest, not wanting to give up the feeling of him so deeply nestled inside of her. Wrapping herself tightly around him, she makes it impossible for him to roll away and abandon the bed. Luka chuckles, caressing her hair and kissing her head.

“You’re so clingy today. I love it.” He hums against her forehead.

“I’m gonna get even more clingy from now on.” Her voice comes off muffled, her lips pressed against his neck.

“Mm, I want to see that.”

“I have to enjoy you all I can before I have to share your attention with our babies.”

His chest vibrates with laughter. He loves the new ring that the word babies has, now that it is a reality they have opened the door to.

.

.

.

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Interactions and feedback are always highly appreciated <3

Masterlist | AO3

Please do NOT repost. Reblogging is okay! Characters belong to their rightful owners, the plot and content here belongs to @moonstruck-writing

[bestworstcase]

@lizarr7 reply on this post

When I first finished the series, and started to get into the fandom, I was disappointed to see the general consensus was that season 1 was good, s2 was fine, and s3 had some good episodes/moments, but was generally bad. One of the major reasons listed always seemed to be that Cass's character ark became weird and her villain part was contrived and had no real foundation. I was like "oh, this sucks. I liked season 3! It was my fave and I loved Cass as a villain. Was I being shallow? Was I ignoring glaring plot holes or forced "character development"? I thought it seemed pretty good for a kids show, especially one so silly." I'm glad there is another community who share my opinion in that regard. It sucks to like something and have everyone else hate on it :(

if it helps any most of the hardcore s3 + cass hate comes from 1. people who convinced themselves back in s1 that moonvarian was gonna happen and are still bitter that it didn’t, many of whom additionally brag about only watching a handful of episodes in s2, and 2. people who hated cassandra from day one and were never interested in engaging with her character in good faith to begin with lmao. just ignore ’em

dunno how long you’ve been in the fandom but cassunzel circles are generally a lot more positive wrt s3, and then there is also [clenches fist] the zhan tiri corner of the fandom we are small but mighty ghdghsksh

anyways

s3 fascinates me because it’s simultaneously...like objectively the messiest on a technical level but also my favorite seasons for a lot of reasons and regardless of the bone i have to pick with how the arc was written, ultimately cassandra’s villain arc i think did deliver on the essentials of the setup done in s1-2, and almost all the things i wanted out of the show, as much as it could within the limits of being a disney princess cartoon targeted primarily at children hgkshns

tangentially related i have got. a list of fic recs floating around somewhere but tumblr being what it is i have no idea how to find it so! short list, some good cass-centric fics, most but not all set during or after s3: 

strings by hemlock/pathygen - alt s3, complete, written while the season was airing. focused on cassandra’s journey back to corona with zhan tiri, strong lean into eldritch horror, fantastic imagery. labor by singing light is a follow up oneshot exploring rapunzel’s side of the story

destinies fulfilled by @daylightlucidity - another alt s3, also complete, also focused on cassandra’s journey back to corona with zhan tiri. a lot more canon flavor™ except it says the actual grievances out loud and zhan tiri gets to be a real character instead of a cattle prod

burn a broken effigy of me and you & the doomed knight by murphy @ancientriverbed (who also wrote some excellent fan songs which u should check out!) - the former is a trilogy of ‘missing episodes’ set in each season + a oneshot epilogue, with the third evolving into a whole canon divergent s3; the latter is a standalone winter holidayish oneshot. both are cassunzel endgame. very thinky character driven stories.

not all who wander are lost by @lemon-embalmer - post-canon cass-centric picks up from the end of s3. strikes a much more serious and grounded fantasy tone without losing the voices of any of the canon characters and also has a great cast of OCs.

@erazonpo3’s cassandra’s tangled adventure au is likewise post-canon cass-centric what happens to cass after she leaves corona. very canon-flavor. there’s a bunch of oneshots and a couple longer fics in addition to the art so that link’s just to the au tag.

bite the hand that feeds by @pancat-n-sausage is “tangled the series, but what if cass and rapunzel were both shapeshifters” and strikes a nice balance between canon flavor while also having a more serious feel and while the story itself has not gotten to the zhan tiri parts yet i am excited about her lore™ 

i don’t. read a lot of oneshots but here are a few that i like

...also i wrote the thing so reccing it feels like cheating LMAO but i really am fond of gloaming all i do is write variations on s3 and i think it’s my favorite to to date

[furikakyo]

a return to roots | 3

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break. 

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life 

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost 

You finished sending your texts to Osamu and sat back in your bed, tossing your phone aside and then pulling the covers over your head. As you tugged and curled into your blankets, your phone fell to the wooden floor of your bedroom with a heavy thunk. Cursing, you drew back the covers and reached over the edge of the bed, trying to find balance. All of the blood rushed to your face as you huffed, still attempting to rescue your phone without actually laying foot on the ground.

Once you finally recovered it, you sat back onto your bed with a heave, any sleepiness you had now gone. You stared at the ceiling, wondering what you should do that day. A hand fisted itself into the thick blankets as you tossed and turned, trying to find some comfort in your plush bed. You hadn't been able to sleep well the past couple of days, for whatever reason. Your neck hurt, your back was sore, hell, your entire body ached for some reason, restless and yet so tense at the same time.

You sat up suddenly. What was it Kuroo had said to you? You weren't sure.

"Ugh..." You buried your face into your hands, memories of last night's conversation rushing back to you; remembering how you'd started talking about Kita when you were nodding off. It had been over two years since everything between you went down. Why couldn't you stop thinking about it? You could feel the burn of embarrassment and shame behind your eyes, your throat beginning to close up. Sniffling, you opened your phone and scrolled through your contacts. Who wouldn't be busy? Your hand stilled, and your face brightened, if only for a moment. Kenma. He had a calm and comforting presence, which never failed to mellow you out. Plus, he didn’t really talk about emotions or feelings so he wouldn’t ask you about anything related to Kita, nor would you be tempted to talk about him.

You texted your bodyguard and driver, Ichiro, who agreed to pick you up from your apartment and then drive you to Kenma’s. Thanking him for coming on such a short notice and then reminding him to not text and drive, you got dressed for the day, choosing to wear your comfiest hoodie.

A few minutes later, your phone lit up again with Ichiro’s standard “here” text, and you were out the door, not forgetting to bring a hat and sunglasses with you, though. After locking the door and slipping your accessories on, you rushed into the elevator and then made your way down to the car.

The car ride itself was silent, as Ichiro seemed to have picked up on the mood you were in and decided not to comment. Although he was usually stoic, he always maintained a conversation if you initiated it, his responses albeit short. By now you knew that the brevity in which he spoke was not because of anything against you, however, but because he was naturally a quiet person. You wouldn’t have had anyone else for the job, though.

The car softly jolted you as it pulled to a stop, and you unbuckled quickly after realizing you were already at Kenma’s apartment. “Thanks!” you called out, opening the door yourself and then shutting it. You smiled and waved before Ichiro merged back into traffic, watching the car eventually disappear in the long stream of vehicles.

Feeling somewhat better, you entered the complex after buzzing in. and then made your way to Kenma’s apartment, knocking on the door and patiently waiting. There was a long pause and some shuffling behind the door before it opened a crack. Two large yellow eyes peered out into the hall, and then landed on you. The door shut and then opened without the door chain to stop it this time, and you stepped in.

“I brought my Switch,” you proudly announced, looking to the side of the corridor where Kenma was standing, a little hunched over and slouching. You held up your video game console, which was covered in skins and cute accessories you'd purchased. Some of them you'd gotten for free from Kenma though, who got sent free stuff all the time.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, a soft smile on his face. He pulled half of his hair back with a hair tie and followed you back to where he streamed his games, settling into the chair that all of his fans could recognize by now. “We can play Minecraft, if you want. I haven't gone on our world for a while, so we could both go on.” Kenma swiveled to look at you inquisitively, waiting for an answer.

You lazily waved a hand at him. “No! Today you’re supposed to stream, right? I just crashed your place so I don’t really have a say. You should record and then if you have time after we can play,” you insisted, sitting on the bean bag behind his gamer chair. “I’ll watch or maybe work on my own world.”

Kenma thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded, setting up his microphone and monitors. “Last chance,” he mumbled, then put his headset over his ears, blocking out everything else. You watched in the background with mild interest as he went through his usual monotonous introduction, one that his fans seemed to adore despite its lack of flair. Perhaps it was exactly that what made him so endearing to the internet. Smiling, you glanced back down to your Switch, and opened up Minecraft.

Setting your phone down for a second after replying to Atsumu, you called out lazily: "Oiiii, Kenma.” After a beat of silence and no response, you called again, "Kenmaaaa."

He had been just finished streaming, and pulled off his headphones. "Hm?"

You sat up excitedly, startling Kenma. "When I move, you should visit! Once I get settled in, at least."

He blinked, looking up at the ceiling as if calculating the pros and cons. "Too many bugs," he finally responded with a small grimace. "And it's gross and hot outside."

At that, you broke out into a laugh, the heartiest and most meaningful you’d had in a while. His particular comment wasn't even that funny, it was just- it was just so him. Was your sense of humor breaking? “Maybe I'll be able to change your mind," you mused. "We can even stream a video collab with the both of us- we should try Animal Crossing!" You clapped excitedly, beaming. "Kenma, let's do Animal Crossing once it comes out!”

He squinted his eyes, scooting away from you and your blinding enthusiasm. "Fine," he muttered, hunched over his phone now. He scrolled for a few minutes before speaking again. "Did you see that we're trending? On Twitter and YouTube." Kenma handed you his phone, stifling a small laugh into the collar of his sweatshirt as he sat back.

"I did," you snickered, laying his phone on the table and lying back on his bean bag chair. "My favorite response is the one about the Kodzuken simps," you said, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at Kenma and then cackling when he turned completely the other way from you. "Kenma, they're devastated!" You gasped dramatically and then draped an arm over your forehead, fainting.

He rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head. "Shut up, Y/N."

After your giggles died out, you saw him offering a controller to you. "Game night!" you cheered, accepting it and sitting up straighter. "We should get takeout!"

Kenma lifted a brow, as if to say why are you even telling me this? "Already on its way.”

The two of you chatted as you played Minecraft, Kenma being a little more open when his mind was preoccupied with gaming. He was, of course, much better than you, eyes glued to the TV screen which had been hooked up to the game console. "Has Kuroo told you who's going to the Olympics?"

You shook your head, then remembered that Kenma wasn't looking your way. "No," you replied slowly, focused on getting out of the water so you could escape the mobs that were chasing you. "But a few of the boys from Inarizaki are. As for Kuroo, I think he was going to say something, but I fell asleep last night. He said something about you and an advertisement, though?"

Kenma smiled, finally breaking his gaze with the screen and looking at you. "Hinata Shōyō from MSBY is collabing with me, to promote the 2020 Olympic games."

Your eyes lit up in recognition. "That's right! Atsumu is teammates with him. I haven't talked to him one-on-one, though. He seems sweet!"

Kenma turned his attention back to the TV, where he was almost done building a house. "He played volleyball in high school too. They beat Inarizaki his first year at Nationals."

You stopped to think, your hands stilling on the controller. Your breathing slowed. In your third year, Inarizaki hadn't progressed further into Nationals, like everyone predicted. Despite being assistant manager, you hadn't thought it would be a big deal to miss their first match in the competition; assistant managers weren’t even allowed on the actual court anyways. You had all thought you were going to get further. You had thought you would get to see your boys play one last time. You had thought you would get to see Kita lead his team to Nationals, as team captain.

You had missed out on that opportunity for signing a record deal.

Beside you, Kenma noticed how quiet you'd gotten but didn't comment, instead going to the door when the buzzer notified him of their takeout delivery. You picked at a loose string on your hoodie, remembering why you didn't often go to Kenma when in distress. While you knew he cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew that heart-to-heart conversations weren't his strong suit. When he returned a few moments later with your favorite foods, you pushed down the eruption of guilt and self-loathing with a bright smile. "Sorry, what were we saying? Something about Kuroo..." You strained to keep your eyes crinkled and happy.

Kenma's brow furrowed. "Kuroo-"

You interrupted him, and he let you. "Oh yeah! Kuroo and I are gonna hang out on Thursday! Wanna come? I'm leaving Saturday morning, so unless I see you before then, this will be the last time you see me before I leave for Hyōgo."

You watched his face run through a couple of emotions before settling on contemplation. Kenma blew a wisp of stray hair from his eyes and then begrudgingly: "Sure..."

This time, you gave him a true smile and clapped excitedly. "Yay! Should we try to get some of the others to join us? Lev? I want to be able to say goodbye to all of you in person, if possible." Then, swiping the plastic bag from Kenma, you opened the bag hurriedly and began pulling out things. "Here are the plates... and the chopsticks..." You set everything out and then let him load his plate with food first. Soon after, the two of you were back to playing Minecraft, squabbling over who got to use what equipment. After Kenma finally relented and let you have first pick, the both of you set out to fight the swarms of mobs gathered near your shared house.

"Hey, Y/N."

You had looked away for only a couple seconds, but you were blown up by a Creeper. "BITCH," you screeched, "I just fucking died?!"

Kenma snickered, running past your character and stealing everything you'd left behind. You gasped even louder. "BITCH-"

a/n: i said there weren’t going to be as many words as the last part but 🤡 also currently the fic is moving slowly and going day by day but it’ll pick up the pace soonish

taglist (pm me to ask to be added!): @papiibuprofen​ (i didn’t know if i should just respond to your ask publicly sksksk but i added you) 

some ~fun facts~

- y/n’s bodyguard/driver is named after ichiro, one of my fav baseball players

- his name in y/n’s contacts is “bonecrusher 👹” lmao 

- he is stoic but actually a softie; he’s about 30 and has a wife and one kid, both of whom he loves very much 

- i had kenma and y/n playing animal crossing instead of minecraft at first, then realized that it wouldn’t have been released yet, since this takes place in 2020... DAMN YOU TIMELINE

- do i have a map of hyōgo so i can write this fic? yes 💀

[youbloodymadgenius]

A Brighter Sky (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @saldelys First Year Celebration 🎉 Happy anniversary, my friend 💝

Dagveror = literally day meal, one of the two meals Vikings ate a day.

Prompt in bold.

@geekandbooknerd - thank you for beta reading this for me 💞 This is what I would call a successful collaboration 👍🏼

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Ivar, who woke up alone, would like to know where you went. What will he think of your answer?

Warnings: slight fluff ? Canon divergent AND historically inaccurate (Sigurd is alive and Blæja is not and has never been his captive).

Words: 1797

Lost in his thoughts, Ivar sighs, massaging his temples with the heels of his hands. His scowl obvious, he dismisses curtly a thrall offering him ale. 

 Yet, his face brightens as soon as he spots you walking into the Great Hall. "Where have you been?", he shouts, furrowing his brows but grinning anyway as you quickly cross the room, a beaming smile on your face.

 You join him and sit carefully on his lap, kissing him briefly. "Where have you been?" He repeats, more gently this time. "I woke up and you were nowhere to be found. You know I hate this. " He exhales deeply before whispering in your ear. "I felt lonely." He knows he sounds needy, clingy, but he can't help. Waking up with you in his arms is one of his favourite things in the world. But this morning, much to his dismay, you weren't next to him, curled on your side, your head on his chest and your legs tangled with his.

 "Oh, did you miss me, my love?" You coo, stifling a laugh as best you can. You know better than to wound his pride.

 "Of course I did." He answers truthfully, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "So tell me, Y/N, where were you? I couldn't find you at the market place…" He winces, his admission that he went looking for you unintentional. 

 Smiling knowingly but without uttering a word, you pepper light kisses over his jawline, travelling down to the pulse point of his neck. Ivar can't help the faint moan that escapes his lips but recovers quickly, giving you a stern look. "What are you doing, woman?" Placing his hands on your shoulders, he stares at you with a frown. "If you keep trying to divert my attention, I'll come to believe that you're hiding something from me, you know?" 

 "I'm not hiding anything, I promise." You reassure him immediately, giving him a last peck on the cheek before getting up. "I'm going to tell you everything but just give me a moment, I'm starving." Grabbing a chicken leg, you take a hearty bite right away, shrugging as you explain with your mouth full. "Sorry, I haven't had time to eat yet today. " 

 "You could have had dagveror with me if you hadn't disappeared. " Ivar grumbles under his breath, making you laugh. 

 Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "Stop being suspicious, Ivar! I didn't disappear, I went to the docks." Gulping a mouthful of weak ale, you then wipe your mouth with your forearm. 

 "And why is that?", Ivar asks, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as well as the exact moment when he puts two and two together. His face falls, his gaze hardens, and he looks away, his jaw tight. 

 Scrunching his face and clenching his fists, Ivar hisses eventually through gritted teeth. "You wanted to say goodbye to Sigurd." He struggles to control his anger, but you reach out nevertheless without a second thought and cups his face. You know he would never hurt you. 

 "No Ivar, I wanted to make sure he left." You say in a quiet and steady voice, your eyes boring into his blue ones. "And now he's gone. We should celebrate, don't you think?" You add, cracking a smile.

 Ivar frowns obviously confused. "Why would you do that? Why would you want to celebrate his departure? Shouldn't you be sad instead?" He asks dryly, wrapping a hand around your wrist and squeezing it a little too tight. "You like him. He's your friend, after all…" His tone is bitter and the look of suspicion on his face unmistakable.

 "I do like him." You nod, wincing because of his firm grip on your wrist. "But you're the one I love."

 ***

 You had grown up on the outskirts of Kattegat. Your father was a merchant and your mother helped him as best she could while taking care of you and your younger siblings. As a child, you had never crossed paths with any of Ragnar's sons. But when you were around fifteen, your father got sick and that's how you ended up behind the market stall, selling spices and seeds. You quickly caught the eye of Hvitserk, who immediately decided that he wanted to fuck you. One day, you had slapped him because he had touched your breast. In your defence, you didn't know he was a prince. To be honest, you're still not sure it would have made any difference. Hvitserk had been stunned and you had heard mocking laughter. Cheering for you, the other Princes; Ubbe, Sigurd and Ivar were laughing out loud. 

 Long story short, that's how you became friends with all of them. 

 Hvitserk, although a little offended, had eventually forgiven you and since then you had spent a lot of time laughing together and bantering with each other. 

 Ubbe, who was already married to Margrethe, wasn't as funny as his brother, but you still enjoyed the little time you spent with him.

 You had bonded quite quickly with Sigurd, the sweetest and shyest of them all, reunited by your shared love of music, with his oud and your flute in perfect harmony. 

 And then, there was Ivar. You had fallen hard and fast for him, his huge mesmerizing blue eyes, and his stormy temper. He had been guarded and withdrawn at first, but he had opened up to you bit by bit, trusted you and eventually fell in love with you. 

 Your relationship with Ivar is truly a strong one, punctuated of course by numerous outbursts – the blame not entirely on him, you have to say – but above all filled with love and mutual understanding. 

 Of course, being Ivar's lover and Sigurd's friend isn't always easy, given the difficult relationship between the two of them. However, each of them respects you enough to make it go pretty well, and you know without any doubt that you saved Sigurd's life more than once, sometimes literally.

 At the end of the day, though, your heart belongs to Ivar, and he's the one you want to make happy. 

 ***

 Eyebrows up, jaw down, you can tell when the realization hits Ivar. Swallowing, he stares at you in disbelief, slowly releasing your wrist. "You…", crossing his arms, he sputters in a halting voice, his head tilted to one side, "�� you did this, didn't you? You're the one who convinced him to marry Blæja. And therefore to move to Northumbria."

 Smiling softly, you nod and shrug simultaneously. "It wasn't that hard. Sigurd just needed a little push, you know. He was already in love with her. All I had to do was reassure him that marrying a Christian wasn't going to send him to Hel. Nothing more."

 Confused, Ivar looks at you with wide eyes, shaking his head. "But why... why did you do that?" His question is genuine, his bewilderment real. 

 Smiling fondly, you gaze at him with a mischievous look on your face. "Did you see the sky today, Ivar?" You ask in a cheerful tone, gesturing towards the slightly ajar hall doors. 

 "I don't want you to change the topic, Y/N!" Pursing his lips, Ivar growls, frustrated and suddenly out of patience. It's nothing new, though, and it takes more to scare you. Your lover being exasperated every time the discussion is related to Sigurd is a common occurrence.

 So, you just take a deep breath. "I'm not changing the topic, Ivar. Trust me, you'll understand what I'm getting at. So please, tell me, how is the sky today?"

 Rolling his eyes, Ivar raises his hands in surrender. He knows that you can be as stubborn as he is. "You won't let it go, will you?" As you shake your head no, he fails to repress a small smile and then pouts playfully, and you can't help but be amazed by his mood swings. Finally, he replies with a sigh. "Bright blue, the sky is bright blue, Y/N."

 "Yes, you're right." You nod enthusiastically in excitement. "And do you know why?"

 Giving you his 'are-you-kidding-me look', Ivar is at first so bemused that he can't answer. Eventually throwing up his hands while shaking his head, he looks at you as if you were a toddler. "Because summer is coming?" His voice dripping with sarcasm gives away how annoyed he is. 

 "Wrong answer, my love!" You burst out laughing but become a bit more serious the moment you see that Ivar, crutch in one hand, is planning to leave.

 Taking two steps forward, you stop him. "No, Ivar, stay. And listen to me." Your begging eyes soften him, and he collapses back into his chair, tilting up his head and raising his eyebrows questioningly.

 "See, my love,…" you carry on immediately, a soft smile on your lips, "Some people are a lot like clouds, you know, 'cause life's so much brighter when they go…  So, I decided to make your life, your sky, brighter, by helping Sigurd make the right decision. All he had to do was listen to his heart, marry Blæja and move to Northumbria. " You explain simply, without taking your eyes off him.

 Completely stunned, Ivar drops his gaze, scratching the back of his neck and keeping quiet for a long time. When he lifts his eyes to you, you can tell they're watery. Your lover is moved.

 "I can't believe you did this for me. " Letting out a shaky sigh, he bites his bottom lip, rubbing his cheek, an obvious frown on concern on his face. " Won't you…", he hesitates, "… miss him?"

 "Of course I will!" You speak the truth and you know that indeed, you will miss Sigurd dearly. You also know it's for the best. "But your peace of mind will be worth it. Your happiness will be worth it. And quite frankly, I'm willing to bet that with you out of the picture, Sigurd's sky will be brighter too. You two weren't meant to get along. It may be sad, but there's nothing we can do about it. And now my love," clapping your hands, you give him a dazzling smile, "Are we going to celebrate?" Leaning forward, you make sure your fingers brush his crotch.

 Hissing, Ivar draws you closer, nibbling on your ear. "What do you have in mind?" He mumbles hoarsely, one hand on your cheeks.

 Laughing, you take his hand to help him up and then hand him his crutch once he’s standing, winking at him. "What do you say we move this to a more private area?" Standing on tiptoes, your lips graze his as you whisper, "And then, I promise, I'll show you, my love…"

🛡⚔️🛡

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[crispyjenkins]

can you write jangobi - they have to team up together to save their dumbass kids??? and maybe their weapons get switched around so obi ends up shooting people with jango's westars and jango ends up stabbign people with the glowy murderstick???

(such a cute concept!! more mandalorian weapons flirting, more obi being a chronic ‘saber-dropper, more boba absolutely whooping anakin’s ass at hand to hand — obi really needs to step up the training there. i put this in the jar’kai canon divergence (first part here) because this prompt had interesting parallels. you get a whopping 2,000 words!!  still not over lightsabers being called “glowy murder sticks” fandom peaked like five years ago and also I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG i was going to write this on friday and then fiori and i got into it about dha kar’ta and i’m ruined. anyways have some competence kink.)

  "We really must stop meeting like this."

  Jango growls and slams a new charge into his blaster, like it will prevent him having to turn around and acknowledge his newest headache. "I don't need your help, Kenobi," he grits, as he dodges a piece of the falling ceiling and ducks behind the barricade block Kenobi is crouching against, hands as loose as the smile on his face.

  “Oh, no, I’m sure you have it well under control.” 

  An explosion rocks the warehouse, clouds of duracrete dust whipped into their faces by the evening wind; Jango is thankful for his helmet’s respirator, but Kenobi doesn’t even seem bothered. They’re in the middle of karking nowhere in the industrial district of the planetoid Odos, where no one in their right mind is outside after midday for the wind storms, and Kenobi’s appearance confirms Jango’s suspicions that this mess is jetiise related osik.

  “Where’s that foundling of yours?” Jango demands, popping up over the barricade to take a shot at the scaffolding where a human bounty hunter had managed to get the drop on him. 

  Kenobi hums and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the barricade like the building isn’t currently threatening to come down on them. “I imagine he’s about where yours is. I’m sorry to say that it seems Boba has been caught up in my padawan’s first mission as a knight.”

  Dropping back down next to him, Jango has to resist putting his westar-34 to Kenobi’s head. “That seems to be going well.”

  “Yes, well, you know Anakin,” Kenobi says easily, smiling wider as he opens his eyes. He raises a brow at Jango’s blaster aimed suspiciously in his direction, but there is no fear in his expression, and Jango wishes he had the time to show him just why there should be. And then out of left field Kenobi asks, “You have two of those, yes?”

  And Jango doesn’t know what the kriff to say to that. Are jetiise even allowed to use blasters? 

  He glances down and notices that Kenobi doesn’t have his jetii’kad on his belt or in his hand, not a visible weapon on him, and suddenly the hiding behind a barricade makes a lot more sense. 

  “Where’s your ‘kad, jare jetii?”

  Kenobi sniffs in offense, tugging Jango to the side to avoid a blaster bolt fired from above. “Well, that’s hardly fair, I did have it, before your friends upstairs blew up the wall.” Jango just growls and takes out the ‘friend upstairs’, watching with satisfaction as they drop three stories to land in a heap on the duracrete. 

  Kenobi looks impressed, stirring something warm in Jango’s chest, like his stupid heart wants to do anything to keep that expression on his face. So of course Jango burns the thought and tells his heart to shut the kriff up.

  “Only until I get Boba back,” his mouth says without his permission, yanking his second westar out of its holster and holding it out to Kenobi grip-first. He’d be concerned about the jetii using mind tricks on him if he didn’t still have his beskar helmet, but he’s tempted to still shoot him anyways.

  Every year under Jaster’s tutelage screams at him as Kenobi takes the blaster, oh Force he hadn’t even let Sheeka touch his westars—

  “Only until we get Boba back,” Kenobi agrees, a strange pinch between his brows as he looks down at the blaster for a long moment. Then he switches off the safety and it’s like nothing had ever crossed his face as he smiles cockily sideways at Jango. “Well, shall we?”

-

  Jango comes to learn that Jedi aren’t forbidden from using blasters, but he sees why they shouldn’t.

  Kenobi cleans the scaffolding of four Odos weapons dealers in a single burst, ducking in a fluid motion to dodge the counter attack before popping back up, firing Jango’s westar exactly as it’s meant to be: in ferocious volleys that would melt other blasters. And the implication that Kenobi has had experience with multiple kinds of blasters makes his throat go dry.

  Crouching back down, Kenobi clicks out the charge pack and slips a new one in, that Jango hadn’t even seen him take from his belt. And then the jare karking Jedi jumps over the barricade and sprints for the humans knocking their way into the warehouse. 

  Jango finally gets his head out of his ass and says kriff it, following Kenobi over the barricade and kicking his jetpack into flight, covering the crazy Jedi from above. Not that Kenobi seems to need it, easily alternating between the westar and hand to hand, moving almost too fast for Jango to be sure he doesn’t accidentally shoot him.

  An absolute hulk of a Weequay manages to clock Kenobi in the face, sending him skidding back a few feet before Jango can put a blaster bolt through his head. Kenobi wipes his face on his sleeve, smearing blood on the white of his armour, and it’s as if every Mandalorian that’s ever marched away* is screaming “this one!” in Jango’s brain; he nearly flies into a column and decides it’s safer to be on the ground until he can somehow get the image of an angry, bloody Kenobi out of his head.

  No sooner are his boots on duracrete that a human yells and throws himself at Jango, and they must be smuggling spice as well as weapons if they think trying to use their fists against full beskar’gam is a good idea. The human goes down in three hits, just in time for Jango to see the Weequay get another lucky blow, shooting Kenobi’s shoulder to make him drop the blaster.

  Jango!” Kenobi shouts, dodging the Weequay’s fist, and oh, they’re on a first name basis now?

  But Jango tosses him his blaster like sharing weapons on the battlefield isn’t frowned upon for being too intimate, and watches Obi-Wan fire from his left hand with the same ease as his right, before Jango has his own Weequay to worry about.

  It’s only when both he and Obi-Wan manage to push their assailants back enough that they all spill out into the freighter depot that Jango realises he now only has his vibroblade and flame thrower, the latter of which he can’t use without having to worry about Obi-Wan.

  “Wait,” Jango says, kicking a human in the chest and sending them flying. “Where’s that commander of yours.”

  “Ah,” Obi-Wan winces, somehow having the presence of mind to both shoot and look guilty. “I should technically not be helping my former padawan on his mission.”

  Another dumbass father, then. Jango snorts, using his jetpack to hop across the depot and stop a human from running away, sticking them through the throat with his vibroblade. “Then why the kriff are you here?” he taunts, and then immediately almost gets shot, because Obi-Wan laughs and shouts,

  “Boba called me!” 

  Jango curses every Kyr’tsad commando and Jedi he can remember the name of, because it’s their fault his life has played out in a sequence of events that has somehow landed him here, noticing Obi-Wan’s ‘kad on the ground and picking it up. It’s a little charred and could use a wash, but doesn’t appear to be broken. 

  He doesn’t have time to decide if he plans on hurling it back to Obi-Wan before a vibroblade is shoved in his face, barely missing scratching his visor, and Jango doesn’t think as he flips the jetii’kad on, relieving the human of their entire arm. 

  Oh, he likes this weapon.

  The beskad is not Jango’s favourite weapon by a long shot, he’ll take distance weapons over up close and personal any day, but he can’t deny the effectiveness in such situations where he’s stupidly given and/or thrown his blasters to a kriffing Jedi. Fair’s fair, he supposes he gets to use Obi-Wan’s weapon until they find Boba, equal exchange and all that.

  He’s just thankful there aren’t any other Mando’ade around to witness it.

-

  When the ground is littered with bodies and every muscle in Jango’s body screams for rest, Obi-Wan is staring at him. 

  He still has the westar, held loosely enough that the Odus winds buffet it to match the hair that Obi-Wan had cut since their last meeting. He watches Jango with a complicated expression from several yards away, dried blood on his upper lip and Jango’s blaster in his hand, and those taab'echaaj'la Mando’ade* are yelling at him again, 

  Jango powers down the ‘kad and breaks them from their reverie, Obi-Wan blinking back to himself and offering Jango an unsure smile. 

 “Is it safe now?”

  Jango startles at Boba’s voice and quickly searches for the source, only letting out his breath when he finds his boy peeking down from the hatch of the fighter closest to them. Obi-Wan’s foundling pops his head out of the same hatch, and Jango shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.

  “Obi-Wan!” Anakin says cheerfully, swinging down from the fighter to trot over to his former master, his new knight hair looking rather unfortunate all stuck up with blaster smoke like that. 

  Boba follows easily, not looking even a little bothered by the day’s events and comes to stand next to Jango while Obi-Wan frowns at Anakin’s fresh black eye.

  “And what’s this?” he questions, reaching up to Anakin’s face before the foundling shrugs him off. 

  “‘Ran into Boba. He didn’t recognise me.”

  “He was wearing a mask!” Boba protests, making an aborted gesture to the bodies of the weapons dealers and scowling. “He needs to learn more hand to hand combat.”

  Obi-Wan laughs at that, then seems to realise he’s still holding the westar and abruptly stops. He clears his throat and quickly brushes the dirt from the blaster with his robe, then spins it around to face Jango grip-first. As if he hadn’t just cleaned Jango’s blaster in front of both their younglings. 

  Boba looks between them quickly, lips parted in surprise, and Jango really doesn’t know what to tell him. So he does the only thing he can think of and wipes the soot off Obi-Wan’s ‘kad with his cloak, closing the space between them to hold it out to him pommel-first.

  Obi-Wan blinks, looking from his ‘kad to Jango’s face, and, well, that certainly answers the question of him being aware of weapons courting. Jango takes his westar back and holsters it, still holding the ‘saber expectantly as Anakin stares insead at Obi-Wan’s limp right arm.

  “Master, are you bleeding?”

  Something icy lodges in Jango’s throat, but doesn’t get the chance to repeat the question as Obi-Wan looks down at himself and promptly tips forward into Jango’s chest with a muttered,

  “Oh, goodness.”

  Anakin yelps and leaps forward to help Jango catch him, and Jango really wishes just about any other Jedi had saved him from the Bando Gora, because they wouldn’t give him heart attacks. 

Mando’a: jetiise — Jedi pl., sing. jetii jetii’kad — lightsaber, lit. “jedi saber” jare — someone taking a life-threatening risk, not a compliment; similar to kamikaze but not a direct comparison. beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy. Kyr’tsad — Death Watch, lit. “Death Society” beskad — traditional curved Mandalorian saber Mando’ade — Mandalorian, lit. “Child of Mandalore”

*based on the Mando’a word for the dead/deceased “taab'echaaj'la”, or “marched far away”, best explained in the Mando’a tribute to dead comrades, “not gone, merely marching far away”. the idea of Mandalorian ancestors gets sketchy when lineages aren’t like. a thing. but yeah, every Mando that’s walked the path is telling Jango to climb Obi like a tree.