#you’re not training your children to die on the battlefield | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mememanufactorum · 3 years ago

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Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty quote starters

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“Our boy is right on schedule.”

“Kept you waiting, huh?”

“The private sector’s not so bad, is it? Privacy guaranteed...”

“I’m happy as long as no one gives me any more unwanted gifts.”

“Give her a message from me: Someone will find out sooner or later. She’s better off assuming it’s sooner and quit while she’s safe.”

“Cigarettes? What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s kind of a lucky charm.”

“They don’t look armed...”

“If it comes to that, a little beauty sleep never hurt anyone.”

“We can’t rule out the possibility that this is a trap. There’s a high price on our heads, you know.”

“We need to get a fix on who they are.”

“I can see the moon even in this storm, pale as death...”

“I have nowhere else to go. [name], I want to stay and fight.”

“You men — you’re all the same.”

“We are nomads. Wanderers.”

“So you shoot unarmed women too?”

“I’m a nomad, too.”

“What else do you have there? Take that knife and toss it.”

“You know what you’re doing.”

“It stopped raining...”

“I think you deserve a little credit. No one’s ever dodged that shot of mine... But no one gets lucky twice either!”

“I grew up on the battlefield. Conflict and victory were my parents.”

“We shared everything — all of the bad, and all of the good.”

“I’m not interested in fighting these guys.”

“Just spit it out. I’m used to things going wrong.”

“With these kinds of odds, I won’t be making any sudden moves.”

“Excellent speech, my friend... Gift of the silver tongue. They say it’s the mark of a good officer... And of a liar.”

“That’s right... No one has to die needlessly.”

“Not that you would understand. Land, friends, dignity, all sold to the highest bidder.”

“Looks like you were long overdue for retirement.”

“Show’s over! If you wish to live, I suggest you run now!”

“I was trained to fight. My personal feelings have no place in a mission.”

“You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

“Hey, I prefer this to being kept in the dark, waiting.”

“Do you know what day it is tomorrow?”

“They don’t know a thing about us. You know we work in the dark and this mission is no exception.”

“Shoot him! What are you waiting for?!”

“Hold on. I’m not an enemy. Calm down.”

“Give me a few minutes. Must have lost a few more pints than I thought.”

“The way he moved... It didn’t seem human.”

“Legends are usually bad news. There’s not a lot of difference between heroes and madmen.”

“Makes up for the boring name my parents gave me.”

“Come, put me out of my misery.”

“This is impossible. Nothing will hit her!”

“Today is another bad day.”

“Is there anyone here that can give me happiness?”

“It’s... It’s like... It’s like being in a nightmare you can’t wake up from.”

“I’ve made up my mind to stay with you. Whether this is real or a bad dream, I’ll keep watching you ��til it’s over.”

“Did I tell you you could move?”

“It’s alright. He’s not one of the bad guys. Don’t go pointing that thing everywhere, kid.”

“How about it, kid? Are the results in yet?”

“Common sense isn’t one of his strong points.”

“I thought I taught him everything I knew... I have no children of my own and I thought I found a son in him.”

“He had the right stuff, you know. There’s something very unusual about an ability like that.”

“Maybe that’s what started all of this. I didn’t teach him the most important thing I had to tell him.”

“There are some things you have to pass on. The trick is to know which one.”

“You’ll just slow us down with that leg of yours.”

“I don’t have time to baby-sit anyone.”

“Don’t let the fear get to you. When you give in to fear, the darkness comes.”

“I wanted people to be sorry for me, for my weakness...”

“I’ve lived my lie so well I haven’t even answered to myself for my sins...”

“I’ve killed my soul playing the victim. Instead of protecting me, it’s made my life even more hellish.”

“I know — I’m a coward!”

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you’re alive after all.”

“I knew this moment would come. Show yourself and finish me.”

“You’ve seen the fires of hell, haven’t you?”

“Maybe you can give me death.”

“So he couldn’t kill you, I see.”

“No... No, that bullet was meant for me...”

“Why am I the only one that can’t die? Alone again... Cheated out of death again... How long will you force me to live?!”

“You’ve punished me enough.”

“I thought you could give me peace, but you couldn’t kill me either.”

“There’s no need for sorrow.”

“I died once already. I cannot die twice.��

“I am the greatest humanity has to offer, and the lowest.”

“Call it what you want. Only the right stuff survived that hell. Set me free, you know... Opened the door to a new dimension.”

“You’re nothing but a common criminal and that’s the only way people will remember you.”

“How dare you, I’m an artist!”

“I have beautiful hands. These hands can craft works of art.”

“I’m like you... I have no name.”

“They’re a band of lunatics to being with. Nothing they do should come as a surprise.”

“If you sell us out, I’ll kill you myself!”

“Don’t ever let me see your gun pointed at me again.”

“I’ll put a bullet in your back instead.”

“I recommend against switching camps. You’ve nowhere left to go.”

“You need something higher... I can’t think of the right word, but... It has to be pure will. Backed up by — by courage, or ideals, or something like that. I’d stake my life on it.”

“There are still too many things I need to do.”

“How could you come back to all this? Why keep fighting?”

“We’re not tools of the government or anyone else. Fighting was the only thing I was good at, but at least I always fought for what I believed in.”

“We work on our own, but it’s a cause worth fighting for.”

“We have a responsibility to the coming generations, to the world. To keep track of the mistakes we’ve made as a species.”

“We need to remember — to spread the word — to fight for change. And that’s what keeps me alive.”

“I’m not as arrogant as that.”

“We’re here on our own, not under anyone’s orders. We have our own battles.”

“We’re out here! We bleed! We die!”

“We’re living for ourselves after this. If anyone wants to stay, I want you to take good care of them.”

“I’m prepared to face the consequences of my actions.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m legally sane, you know.”

“Even if a pawn becomes a queen, it’s still just a playing piece.”

“I wanted to leave my own mark in history. But my ambitions were— ...You’ll understand someday.”

“I wanted to wield the power of a king instead of being an expendable pawn.”

“Without freedom, there is no difference between submission and rebellion.”

“My only real choice is to put an end to this charade. Let me at least have the freedom to end it myself...”

“Unfortunately, hell had no vacancies.”

“Human muscles are quite eloquent. They speak out clearly what the person’s next movement will be. They even tell me which way the gun will be pointed before the trigger is pulled.”

“Our only goal is to wipe them from the face of this earth — and destroy this world of deceit they have created along with them.”

“Insane? We might be the only ones telling the truth...”

“I concentrated on your heartbeat... It reminds me of when I was a kid...”

“I never had a family... But I think I know what you mean.”

“...I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to see you suffer...”

“You’re not only cute, but smart too.”

“Ohh... I’m much more than cute.”

“Would you take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Are you gonna ask me how old I am next?”

“I always... wanted to see you again...”

“Don’t be so honest... It hurts...”

“I’m always the survivor...”

“You and me, we're the same. Both you and I... We were always alone... Always. We just wanted to be loved... We were waiting — waiting for somebody... Somebody who would love us... But we were wrong. You can’t wait to be loved, you have to go out and find it.”

“I realized you can’t wish for happiness, you have to make it happen... I wish I knew that sooner.”

“Change sides? I don’t recall saying I was on yours.”

“A foul wind is blowing. We shall speak again.”

“You’re just like me... We’re both pawns...”

“I have nightmares every day... Pieces of the past I can’t put together.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt. There was never a real reason for me to fight, except that someone put a gun in my hands.”

“If I survived the day’s fight, I was praised, fed, and had a bed to sleep in.”

“I never questioned why we fought. There was no purpose, no way out. They give you a gun, you ask how many to kill. If you didn’t, you were the one they shot instead.”

“They built us from the ground up into killing machines... We were fed once a day. I can still taste the gunpowder they mixed into the food. The gunpowder had toluene in it, giving it hallucinogenic properties. It kept us drugged, controllable.”

“Nothing’s changed. The only people who have no problem with my past have secrets and agendas of their own... Terrible nightmares — every night. I can never forget...”

“I’m afraid of the night. That’s why I don’t sleep next to you.”

“Told you what? That I’m a killer and always have been?”

“What I hate more than anything else in the world is my own past. I didn’t want you — or anyone — to know about it.”

“I love you the way you are now. You have to believe me. I didn’t know anything about you, I admit that. Where you were born, how you grew up — but I know that now. And I know that what I feel for you can only get better. And I’ll share in your past if that’s the price.”

“It doesn’t work that way. No one can share the burden of what I’ve done. It’s not one of those warm and fuzzy things couples share.”

“I accept the good and the bad. That’s what you do for someone you love.”

“I don’t want to share my past with anyone. I just want to forget it.”

“The last two years with you — it’s been more than I’ve ever hoped for. But I can’t go any farther.”

“I know you want to get married. But — But I can’t. I can’t risk starting a family. There’s no way to erase my childhood.”

“Was sleeping with me a part of the job?”

“No matter where I go, I get used.”

“You must have gone over my psych profile with a fine tooth comb.”

“Great performance. Had me completely fooled.”

“What I really wanted was for you to see the real me. It hurt to play out this — this artificial romance. It was worse to lie to myself than to you. The more love you gave me, the more it hurt — because I knew the person you loved was just a character.”

“So it was artificial on my end too. It was just a game, not the real thing. I feel better knowing that. I was in love — or thought I was — with someone who didn’t exist. I was trying to be someone I wasn’t by loving what wasn’t real.”

“I don’t know who you really are. The person I knew isn’t real; she’s not the woman I’m talking to right now. In a sense, the deception was my own, not theirs.”

“I thought I was acting because that was my job. But I really did fall in love with you, that wasn’t an act!”

“You expect me to believe that? It’s okay. You had your reasons, right? Hey, I understand. But I have nothing left to...”

“It’s amazing you can walk around like that.”

“Have you ever... enjoyed killing someone?”

“We don’t carry guns to take people down. We’re not here to help some politician either.”

“You can say that because you’re a legend, a hero.”

“Legends don’t mean a whole lot. I was just a name to exploit. Just like you.”

“People will only remember the good part — the right part — about what you did.”

“There’s no right part in murder. Not ever.”

“We’re not in this to make a name for ourselves.”

“You can stop being part of a mistake. Starting now.”

“Find something to believe in and find it for yourself. And when you do, pass it on to the future.”

“Everyone I love has been taken from me, one by one... And no matter how hard I try, I can’t follow them. An endless nightmare... The only thing we live for is to see it end. Our wait is almost over.”

“Since no one can kill me, I may as well kill everyone I can.”

“Looks like I’m today’s pick. You go on ahead.”

“You want eternal rest? I’ve got it right here.”

“I’ll think of something. There’s no such thing as a witch.”

“Those days were as real as they come. Every day was absolute, split between life and death. You ran from it, and now you’ve been lead back to war by something less than real.”

“So many dead, and they all died trusting you! Weren’t they your comrades?”

“I know I’m going to hell, but at least my child—”

“I applaud your attitude. If you have a death wish... I’ll be happy to accommodate you. See you in hell!”

“What do you hope to hear? You know he doesn’t know anything.”

“It’s not him I want the answers from...”

“You were going to screw me over, weren’t you?”

“...Why the uncharacteristic generosity?”

“You were using us all along.”

“What exactly do you find so funny?”

“Charades usually are humorous. I wouldn’t have minded watching some more of it, but we’re running a little short on time.”

“Your plan was invalidated even before execution.”

“We provoked and encouraged your hatred — and you opted for vengeance, just as we planned.”

“You have nothing we didn’t give you.”

“Do you know why no bullet could hit you? It wasn’t magic or some new age mumbo-jumbo. Certainly wasn’t your psychic talent.”

“Pure self-indulgence — you couldn’t get enough of the drama.”

“...I could have died whenever I wanted to...?”

“There’s no such thing as miracles or the supernatural, only cutting edge technology!”

“You’re the only one that can free me, after all...”

“We’re all born with an expiration date. No one lasts forever. Life is nothing but a grace period for turning our genetic material into the next generation.”

“What is our legacy if we cannot pass the torch? Proof of our existence — a mark of some sort.”

“All I want is to be remembered. By other people, by history.”

“Everyone grows up being told the same thing: ‘Be nice to other people,’ ‘But beat out the competition!’, ‘You’re special. Believe in yourself and you will succeed.’ But it’s obvious from the start that only a few can succeed...”

“You exercise your right to ‘freedom’ and this is the result. All rhetoric to avoid conflict and protect each other from hurt.”

“The different cardinal truths neither clash nor mesh. No one is invalidated, but nobody is right.”

“Not even natural selection can take place here. The world is being engulfed in ‘truth’.”

“Who else could wade through the sea of garbage you people produce, retrieve valuable truths, and interpret their meaning for later generations?”

“I’ll decide for myself what to believe and what to pass on!”

“That’s the proof of your incompetence right there. You lack the qualifications to exercise free will.”

“Does something like a ‘self’ exist inside of you? That which you call ‘self’ serves as nothing more than a mask to cover your own being.”

“In this era of ready-made ‘truths’, ‘self’ is just something used to preserve those positive emotions that you occasionally feel...”

“Another possibility is that ‘self’ is just a concept you conveniently borrowed under the logic that it would endow you with some sense of strength...”

“You’re simply the best! And you got there all by yourself!”

“Oh, what happened? Do you feel lost? Why not try a bit of soul-searching? Don’t think you’ll find anything, though...”

“Ironic that although the ‘self’ is something that you yourself fashioned, every time something goes wrong, you place the blame on something else. ‘It’s not my fault. It’s not your fault.’ In denial, you simply resort to looking for another, more convenient ‘truth’ to make yourself feel better. Leaving behind in an instant the so-called ‘truth’ you once embraced.”

“Should someone like that decide what is ‘truth’? Should someone like you even have the right to decide? You’ve done nothing but abuse your freedom. You don’t deserve to be free!”

“The individual is supposed to be weak, but far from powerless — a single person has the potential to ruin the world.”

“It was because you were the only one who refused to acknowledge the past. All the others remember what they were, and pay for it daily. But you turn your back on everything you don’t like. You do whatever you like, see only the things you like, and for yourself alone.”

“You refused to see me for what I was. I lied to you, but I wanted to be caught. You pretended to be understanding, to be a gentleman... But you never made a conscious attempt to reach out to me... The only time you did was when I gave you no other choice but to do so.”

“What? ‘Trying not to hurt me?’ Dear, the only one you were trying not to hurt was yourself! Avoiding the truth under the guise of ‘kindness’ is all that you did! It occurred to you to do nothing but look out for yourself. Even if you claim it was for my sake, that feeling was nowhere to be seen. In the end, everything was for your sake. I was never part of the picture.”

“We need to decide which monstrosity will have the privilege of survival.”

“I needed to know whether we were really someone else’s creation.”

“Unless you kill me and face your past, you will never escape. You’ll stay in the endless loop — your own double-helix.”

“It’s time we were both free.”

“No one quite knows who or what they are. The memories you have and the roles you were assigned are burdens you have to carry. It doesn’t matter if they were real or not. That’s never the point.”

“There’s no such thing in the world as absolute reality. Most of what they call reality is actually fiction. What you think you see is only as real as your brain tells you it is.”

“We can tell other people about... having faith. What we had faith in. What we found important enough to fight for. It’s not whether you were right or wrong, but how much faith you were willing to have, that decides the future.”

“Listen, don’t obsess over words so much. Find the meaning behind the words, then decide.”

“You can find your own name, and your own future.”

“Yeah, a clean slate. A new name, new memories. Choose your own legacy. It’s for you to decide. It’s up to you.”

“...I’ll pick my own name, and my own life. I’ll find something worth passing on.”

“No, you have things to do first. And people you need to talk to...”

“Can I ask you something? Who am I really?”

“I wouldn’t know. But we’re going to find out together, aren’t we?”

“Life isn’t just about passing on your genes. We can leave behind much more than DNA. Through speech, literature, music, movies... What we’ve seen, heard, felt...”

“Anger, joy, and sorrow... These are the things I will pass on. That’s what I live for.”

“We need to pass the torch, and let our children read our messy and sad history by its light.”

“The human race will probably come to an end sometime, and new species will rule over this planet. Earth may not be forever, but we still have the responsibility to leave what traces of life we can.”

“Building the future and keeping the past alive are one and the same thing.”

#roleplay meme #roleplay prompt #rp meme #rp prompt #Metal Gear Solid #MGS #Metal Gear Solid 2 #MGS2

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ruethedaytumbles · 3 years ago

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Valorant Headcanons I think about a little too often

I’ve been dead awhile, allow me to briefly send something before I die off again. Some of these may not be original, but some of these are one I came up with right off the bat, so. -Brimstone and Sage knew each other before Kingdom Corporation and often hung out often, so Sage is almost a mother-Figure in Killjoy’s life. This is also why Sage would be second in command if Brimstone were ever to die. -Cypher tags the Agents with his Spycam Darts just to tease them. -On one of the Agent’s first missions (Doesn’t matter who,) they nearly messed up with defusing the spike. So the Protocol has now made it strictly aware that said agent is allowed nowhere near the spike during defusal. -The Valorant Agents keep their relationships a secret, but the ones who are partners have each other’s gunbuddies attached to their favorite gun/melee, as a sign of compassion and Romance. -Both Raze and Killjoy steal parts from each other’s labs, but neither of them knows that the other does it. And they both blame it on Cypher, even though he’s never touched a single thing from their labs. (Raze just steals from Killjoy’s and Cypher’s labs though.) -Despite the clear rivalry the two have, Breach and Brimstone are best buddies in combat, always able to cover each other’s backs. Sometimes, they even enjoy it. But once they’re off the battlefield, it’s back to trash-talk and absolute despising of one another. -Before missions, everybody places bets on who’s going to top Frag. The winner gets Bragging rights until the next mission, when bets are placed again. (Bonus if a specific agent has a streak for best betting.) -Omen knits mittens, Scarves, and Headwarmers for the agents who go on missions to Icebox. Then prepares Hot Chocolate for them all when they get back. -Raze created all the Agent Spotify Playlists -Killjoy designed the Gun Finishers and collaborated with Raze to create the music for the latest ZEDD Skins -Raze makes all the sprays for the agents. Graffiti is one of her hobbies. -Viper would never admit to it, but she views most, if not, all the agents as if to be her own children. While, that may seem a little harsh, knowing her personality, she’s got a soft side that is scarcely shown but has been seen before. She could complain all she wants about how she “can’t stand all this youth,” but deep inside, she knows she cares for them all. That doesn’t mean she lets herself get close to them though. -Viper definitely has trust/abandonment issues. This mostly focuses on her voice lines like “I will not lose my home again!” and “Let’s take from them what they took from me; Everything.” Which is why Sabine has resorted to bitterness and sadism to avoid attachment to anything she could lose. And, hence, why she doesn’t allow herself to get close to the agents despite how she views them.

-Sova actually loves Frozen/Frozen 2, which is where the line “Come, into the Unknown,” came from. Of course, the agents mock him for this, but he could care less. -Sage is a fervid self-trainer (hope I used that word correctly,) and if she’s not out and about, you can definitely find her in the Range, practicing. She’s devoted to being better and stronger than she was before, ever since she apparently failed Sabine. Though, this can lead to restless days of endless training. Despite the animosity Sabine has towards the woman, she’s the only one who can talk her down from these ruthless sessions. -Phoenix and Jett are close friends and an even better duo in combat. So much better, in fact, that they come up with strategies on the fly. One consisting of Phoenix raising a firewall, and Jett using her wind abilities to blow the flames out of proportion. -Raze is absolutely devoted to bringing out the jovial side in everyone. And she knows exactly how to do it. This is also why you’ll see her try to cheer up Viper in her voice lines. (“Viper, you Gotta let loose! Let’s go out after this. Girls night...Woop-Woop!”) -Skye has regular lessons with the protocol about woodworking and carpentry, as it is a common hobby for her that she is convinced will help with everyone. She also claims it to be “therapeutic,” despite almost every time, at least one person has whined about getting a splinter or two. (Voice Line: “Remember everyone, if we survive, woodworking class tonight in the mess hall. Nimble hands, nimble minds...") -Somewhat similar to Viper, Yoru was humiliated sometime in his past time. Leading him to be not only self-involved all the time, but determined that he must be the best, and “Never show weakness; ever.” Of course, anyone he cares about (Skye, Sova, Phoenix, Etc.) can snap him out of this mindset. Yoru can also be quite protective of this universe that he’s chosen to reside in. That’s all for now. I don’t mind if people take inspiration or even use these Headcanons. Though, I would prefer, if you do use an original headcanon, that you not claim it as if to be your own. I didn’t spend time in school dazing away for nothing after all. Btw I’m writing a Valorant Reader Insert lmk if you’re interested [insert eye emoji]

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sirikenobi12 · 4 years ago

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War & the Jedi

This will be a long meta rant, FYI.

The Jedi Order, specifically the Prequel era Jedi Order, gets a lot of hate these days particularly regarding their involvement in the Clone Wars. Accusations are tossed at their feet constantly ranging from corruption all the way up to warmongering.

Let’s first look at the Oxford English Dictionary definition of these two accusations, shall we?

Corruption - having or showing a willingness to act dishonestly in return for money or personal gain.

Warmonger - a person who encourages or advocates aggression towards other countries or groups.

The definitions of these two words are so very misunderstood when it comes to relation to the Jedi. If the Jedi are truly “corrupt” then where are the examples of their dishonesty for wealth or personal gain? In fact, I’d argue that canon (and Legends) makes a point to show us that it is the Sith who are in it for personal gain, not the Jedi. The Jedi have absolutely NOTHING to gain from this war on a personal level, in fact they are losing members in terrifying numbers.

The Jedi are also not advocating aggression towards the Separatists, in fact what we see instead is the Jedi DEFENDING against the Separatists. I have yet to see in either canon or legends an instance where the Republic forces invade a Separatist planet who doesn’t have an army or some military involvement (i.e. weapon factories). However, time after time we see the Separatists forcing peaceful planets who want nothing to do with them to either bow to their cause or die (i.e. Ryloth, Lurmen planet, Kiros, Mandalore) the Jedi and Republic Troops will then follow the Separatists to these planets, but they try to do what they can to liberate the planet from the Separaist invasion and then they give the planet the OPTION to join the Republic for safety and economic reasons, but they never force them, as is super evident with Mandalore.

Yet people don’t seem to see this and continue to drag the Jedi through the mud.

Here are the top 5 other “woke” takes I hear -

Jedi are peacekeepers and should not have gotten involved:

First things first, let’s look at the definition of Peacekeeper - a soldier, military force, etc., deployed to maintain or restore peace.

I’d argue by that definition the Jedi were still peacekeepers, it’s true that they weren’t a 3rd party as they normally were before the war, but their position was trying to maintain or restore peace. Peacekeeper is not the same thing as a Pacifist, the Jedi were skilled warriors (training from childhood to wield a lightsaber), the difference is Jedi used their skills for defense not attack which is what we constantly saw throughout the Clone Wars.

With regards to the idea that Jedi “should not have gotten involved” I ask you then what exactly were they supposed to do instead?

We see at the beginning of Attack of the Clones that the Jedi are worried things will escalate to war, they have obviously gone to the Chancellor hoping that a diplomatic solution can be presented to avoid bloodshed. Or if that isn’t possible then that the Republic have some way to defend themselves other than relying solely on the Jedi (i.e. an army). The Separatists are the ones pushing them to a breaking point, were the Jedi just supposed to stand back and let innocent people be invaded/killed because they didn’t want to get involved? The Jedi were “Guardians of Peace and Justice” which means it was their duty to help bring about peace in the galaxy while also enacting justice.

Then after Geonosis (where they lost approx. 187 members mind you) they learned that the Sith are leading the Separatist army - the Jedi are duty bound by their code to fight the Sith, they had no choice but to join the war.

So, I ask again...what were they supposed to do instead?

2. Jedi used a slave army for their own purposes:

Okay, I can (and probably will) write a whole argument based on just this accusation alone. There are so many fallacies I don’t even know where to begin but I’ll try.

I guess my first question is the same as #1, what were the Jedi supposed to do instead with regards to the Clones?

Technically speaking the Clones didn’t “belong” to the Jedi, they were “property” of the Republic (as stated by Lama Su in Attack of the Clones). In fact, the Jedi Council not only didn’t know about the order, they had vehemently denied Syfo Dias’ earlier request to raise an army in the first place. The Sith KNEW the Jedi would be against it, this was all part of their plan to trap the Jedi (as was EVERYTHING about the war) - they clouded the Force, they literally deleted Kamino from the Archives so the Jedi wouldn’t discover it until the Sith WANTED them to (i.e. Jango just happened to use a Kamino dart?? Come on people). Yoda even states “blind we are if creation of this clone army we could not see” he fully admits they missed it because the Dark Side was clouding their vision.

Regardless, the army was created, there was no changing that fact. Had the Jedi not taken command of the army do you think the Clones wouldn’t have had to go to war? Do you actually believe that the Republic who couldn’t get their citizens to give 2 craps about the war would’ve taken up the mantle and fought instead? Do you think if the Jedi were like “thanks, but we didn’t order this” that the Kamioans would’ve just let the Clones go free?

The answer you’re looking for is...no.

So, like absolutely everything about the Clone Wars the Jedi did the best they could with the cards they had been dealt. They chose to lead the army on the front lines, putting themselves in just as much mortal danger as the men they were leading. They even sent a member of the Jedi Council to oversee the creation of future clones/training to ensure they were being treated humanely (something the Kamioans thought was ridiculous). They were the first to tell the clones that they were individuals, they constantly put themselves in front of their men to protect them (i.e. season 7 Obi-Wan deflecting the rocket from blowing up his men). The Jedi did what they could, just because we didn’t see on screen Jedi stopping to grieve every time a clone died did not mean that they didn’t care - real life Generals can’t stop in the middle of a battle to grieve over their fallen soldiers either, so why is it we consider it a moral crime if the Jedi don’t?

Another thing I’ll add is once the Jedi had evidence that the Clones were actually ordered by Dooku, did they immediately stop and say “oh hell no, these flesh droids can’t be trusted, we should just have them decommissioned”?? NO! They defended the Clones, stating that they were good men and should be trusted (and look where that trust got them in the end).

The Jedi were forced/coerced to fight this war as much as the Clones were!! Why are we willing to forgive the Clones, but not the Jedi???

3. Ki-Adi-Mundi killing Geonosians was the same as Anakin’s slaughter at the Tusken camp:

This is another moment where context is everything because there is a HUGE difference between Ki-Adi-Mundi on Geonosis and Anakin in the Tusken camp. The fact that I have to even spell it out makes me wonder how people can even dress themselves in the morning.

The Geonosians were an opposing military force, attacking Ki-Adi and his troops. Anakin slaughtered unarmed women and children out of vengeance.

Now, had Ki-Adi turned to his men and screamed “to the catacombs!” brandishing his lightsaber with a murderous glint in his eyes and proceeded to cut down the unarmed bugs below the battle then you’d have an accurate comparison on your hands and I’d be appalled right there with you.

But, as it stands this is not the same thing...not even close.

4. The Jedi sent children to war:

So, this is a tougher one and I can even understand the concerns behind it, and I even share some of those concerns. The thing I will say to this is, given what we see throughout Star Wars, what constitutes a “child” seems to be different than our own real world definition.

Padme, for example, was 14 when she was elected Queen, and she wasn’t even the youngest ever elected. She (and her handmaids) were trained as children to defend themselves and their people both politically and in battle (much like Jedi), but you don’t hear people condemning the people/traditions of Naboo the way we see the Jedi being condemned for theirs.

Jedi children arguably mature faster than your standard person, and with regards to Star Wars there are also species’ age ranges to keep in mind. Grogu for example is still a baby at age 50, could it be possible that Ahsoka at age 14 is on the same maturity level as a human in their early twenties due to her Togruta DNA?? We don’t know, it’s never stated other than Anakin saying something about because of her advanced skills he forgets how young she is.

Obviously Boba Fett is treated like an adult by other Bounty Hunters - no one even questions when he picks up a job and is placed in charge of a group at age 12 or 13 (and he is placed in an adult prison without anyone questioning it). It could be that by law according to Star Wars that 13 is actually considered an adult. Throughout history (and in many different cultures) 13 was when people were considered to be “coming of age”, So, once again we’re placing our cultural biases onto a fictional space fantasy world without realizing it might not even be an issue in that world.

But even beyond all of that I ask you again - what else should the Jedi have done?

Their young Padawans would eventually have to grow into Jedi Knights, even before the war by the time they are teenagers they usually followed their Masters on missions (often very dangerous missions) in order to get real world experience. At the time of the Clone Wars the real world they were living in was one at war. If they hadn’t brought their Padawans onto the battlefield how else would they have learned how to strategize, or how to cope with the emotions of battle? They would’ve been ill prepared if the war had continued on for years and years as it had looked like it was going to do...once again, the Jedi had no real choice in this.

5. The Jedi lost their way because of the war:

Did they though?? I’d argue they actually didn’t. We first have to ask ourselves what is a Jedi - well, according to the very first time we hear any type of a description about a Jedi they are introduced as the “Guardians of Peace and Justice for the Republic” I don’t see how the war took that away from them.

The Oxford definition of Guardian is a defender, protector, or keeper. I fail to see how the Jedi stopped being any of these things because of the war.

Here’s the bottom line, the Jedi’s biggest mistake was that they fell for a plot 1,000 years in the making. The Sith spent over a millenia perfecting/hatching this plan, there was nothing the Jedi could’ve done to prevent the war by the time the trap was sprung. As always, I’m not saying the Jedi were perfect (I hate that I have to always specify that when I argue that the Jedi were good), all I’m saying is they tried to do the most good that they could with the situation they fell into - few groups/characters can claim the same thing.

Everyone seems to forget that the Sith controlled BOTH SIDES to that war, there was nothing - absolutely NOTHING the Jedi could’ve done that would’ve changed or won that war. So, instead they saved as many innocent lives as they could and to me, that’s very Jedi.

#star wars #jedi #Clone Wars #jedi appreciation #jedi positivity #jedi positive #pro jedi #stop blaming the jedi #meta #rant post #war #The Clone Wars #attack of the clones #jedi culture #jedi council appreciation #jedi did not deserve genocide

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years ago

Note

*kciks down door* ReQuEsTs?!??! uh, 18. “Is it all right if I hug you?” with Obi-wan and character of your choice (please, this boy needs a hug so bad)

Hugs!!!! What an excellent ask.

Took me forever to pick a character though. I came this close to writing multiple hugs throughout the years but it would’ve been very long...

It’s still long. Whoops.

Note: I skipped the actual sentence and instead went for ✨vibes only✨

(From this various prompts list.)

Obi-Wan is twenty-three standard years old, very nearly twenty-four.

It is a delightful stage of life. (It’s awful.)

He’s growing in independence, so close to Knighthood he can almost taste it. (Is he? Nobody seems to have a clear opinion.)

He’s receiving more and more solo assignments, and on his missions with Master Jinn, the older Jedi makes an effort to at least await the Padawan’s input before making a decision, sometimes even deferring to Obi-Wan’s word. (Only in public, though, is there a sense of equality. Behind the scenes, Obi-Wan is still very much the learner.)

He longs to be free. (He doesn’t want to be alone.)

The confusing clash of thoughts and emotions is, in and of itself, a creator of more clashing emotions, all resulting in a bundle of self-doubt that crouches near his heart, like a greedy bird, picking away at his strength and certainty when he most needs it.

Doesn’t your doubt show you that you’re truly not ready? the pestering creature asks.

Doesn’t your longing for freedom prove you don’t deserve it? it says, tapping against the veins of ice and fear that lie right against the heat of his heart.

Doesn’t your need to be reassured tell you that you’re too hesitant, too weak to be alone?

His desire to fly is wrong. His desire to be sheltered, even more so.

Both together, coexisting in his heart and mind, could quite possibly mean the one thing he had been dreading for over a decade now, the thing older Jedi, real Jedi, had put into words and addressed to his face when he was only twelve, only eleven, only ten.

You are too emotional, they said.

You are overeager, they said.

You are not destined to be a Jedi, Qui-Gon had told him. I will not train you.

He had, in the end, and Obi-Wan has been wondering in the depths of his heart for all these years of it had not been a dreadful mistake. As much as the Force sings in his ears Jedi, Jedi, Jedi, endure, Jedi, Jedi, it felt like everything he touched, everything tangible, argues back failure, weak, selfish, foolish, unwanted, not fit.

Obi-Wan is twenty-three, almost twenty-four, and he is years into adulthood and light years away from proving that he’s capable of handling it.

When will he be Knighted?

Nobody seems to be expecting it from him.

Do they know, he wonders, have they known since the beginning that I am doomed to fail? Has this all been a gracious attempt, a thank you for my actions on Bandomeer, and they have drawn this out and out and out as long as they can?

How much longer can this go on?

Still, there are moments when he is at peace, when Obi-Wan is sure. When he meditates, when he accomplishes something new, when he walks away from an assignment feeling unashamed when he translates his memories into a tidy mission report.

When he has one of his long talks with Master Yoda, or Master Windu, who despite their revered status have taken to talking to him more like a friend than a child, outside of the Council chambers.

When he remembers the Force whispering inside, Jedi Jedi Jedi Jedi, endure, Jedi...

And then, on one of the missions assigned to both himself and his Master - still the overwhelming majority of his assignments - he and Qui-Gon are separated during a violent uprising.

There are bodies in the streets and buildings are aflame; children weep over the bodies of their parents and parents cradle the bodies of their children and scream as if the sound is their only companion left in the world. The standing government has a point, the rebellion has a point, the civilians caught in the crossfire don’t say which point they agree with because they’re too busy screaming and perishing, and Qui-Gon is simply gone.

Obi-Wan, faced with the threat of further bloodshed right here and right now even as the air is still clogged with ash and flame and as another body topples from a rooftop in front of his feet, raises his hand in surrender and calmly proposes a truce, offering himself as a legal hostage against the government that brought the Jedi here.

Obi-Wan is led away with his hands bound behind his back and his lightsaber taken away, and though his face is calm, the furrow between is brow speaks of his inner turmoil, which sounds like tapping against the cracks in his heart and Qui-Gon, where is Master Qui-Gon, I don’t know what I’m doing, if I fail more people will die, if I fail it will be my fault, is this taking charge or stepping aside, am I a leader or a victim?

He spends not days, not weeks, but three standard months as a hostage. He spends a terrible amount of time sitting in a cell and pondering his uselessness, the gravity of his foolishness, but every time someone opens the door and escorts him out to hold parley with the leaders of the rebellion and the ministry of the planet, he holds his head high, tempers his fear, and speaks to them with all he has.

Which is honesty. Humility.

You don’t know what to do, he says. Neither do I.

We all know we must do something. No matter how much blood you spill and how much earth you scorch you will eventually come back here to this table to have this same discussion until either both of you are broken beyond belief or one of you has been crushed, and half your planet’s voice stolen away. And you will have sacrificed two of the Republic’s Jedi along the way, a black mark against whichever victor is left standing.

Or, he says, we choose to pass over the violence and talk here and now, and choose this again and again and again. You have already had your fighting. Your people are already hoping for negotiation.

Are you here for their sakes or to kill them for show?

He does not use these exact words.

He sews them into his brief speeches, hammers in the point sharply when he must, weaves the common thread over and over again.

He knows they fight while he is locked away.

But he believes, from the growing respect in the eyes of these people who hold him both by his and against his will, that he is making a difference. He must be.

And Obi-Wan is twenty-three, very very nearly twenty-four, when he finally walks free to witness the signing of a treaty like this planet has never had before, to witness the formation of a new government, and he discovers not ashes and mass graves when he sees daylight for the first time in three months — but instead, a city and a planet marred only by scattered battlefields, and marked more clearly by the way its people have fought to keep it clean, to keep it safe.

Children race through the streets, unafraid, because they have had real shelter during the war. It has not entered their homes since that first terrible day.

Neighbors from opposing sides of this fight and friends who staked no claim in this war mingle freely. Their smiles are a little hesitant, but they are there.

The dead are all honored equally.

It is leaps and bounds, it is a civilization that propelled itself through years of struggle in three months, and Obi-Wan is awed by them.

He knows it cannot be this way everywhere.

He knows that there will be wars where no one wants to surrender, or where one side will be so certain of their point of view that they would rather raise hell than cease, and he knows there will be people who resist them.

But today it is real.

Obi-Wan looks at his pale and clammy hands, the marks around his wrists where he was so often bound, and feels the way his limbs shake from months of too little sunlight, not quite enough food, and more than his share of fear and doubt and self-recrimination.

As he smiles for a camera that will record this moment forever, he glimpses Qui-Gon amongst the crowd.

Someone explains to him, when he asks, that his Master had been injured during the uprising and spent the first three weeks of Obi-Wan’s captivity in convalescence. The remaining time, he has spent on the sidelines, forced there by his Padawan’s actions. With Obi-Wan a willing hostage, playing negotiator and leverage both, Qui-Gon had no role except to mingle with the people, offer them comfort and aid.

Something Obi-Wan knows his Master loved, but — he had still stolen his Master’s role.

He had thrown himself into a stupid, foolish situation, and how many times had Qui-Gon teased him about playing damsel in distress? And here he has gone and surrendered of his own accord. What would Qui-Gon have done if Obi-Wan had led them all to ruin?

Obi-Wan slowly loses his confidence, his relief, his silver tongue, as the press and the people recede, and he and his Master walk to a room that has been prepared for both of them, as honored guests by this new government.

Qui-Gon says nothing to him.

They walk in silence for twelve minutes.

And then, as soon as the door has shut behind them, Obi-Wan finds himself pulled into a fierce embrace, one of his Master’s hands buried in his hair, Qui-Gon’s chin resting atop his head.

Obi-Wan hesitates.

Does his Master think him a child?

Perhaps Qui-Gon senses his thoughts, because the man pulls away briefly, still holding his Padawan by the shoulders, as if unwilling to let him go completely, else he vanish like smoke.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and his voice is loud and strong and brimming with warmth that washes over Obi-Wan like sunlight, like water, like an embrace. “Well done, my Padawan.”

And then he is pulled again into Qui-Gon’s comforting arms, and Obi-Wan breathes in and gives in, folding against his teacher like a child, and if a few tears stain Qui-Gon’s robes or drop into Obi-Wan’s hair, neither of them speaks of it.

Obi-Wan lets his Master hold him, lets go of fear and pride and doubt, and finds that he is safe.

#star wars #my writing #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #master & padawan #padawan obi wan #look they are just a slightly repressed and off kilter #father and son #that is all #hugs #hugs!!!#more hugs needed #tw blood #tw death #tw bomb #tw war #tw child death

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bestruction · 4 years ago

Text

Falling in love with a marleyan pt1

N/a: this request got me thinking a lot 😅 i guess that's why is so long and because of that, i'll be making a pt2 for Eren. I'm sorry for it, anon and thank you for sharing such great ideia with me💞 please let me know if you like it

(I inspired myself a little bit in this hc)

You can read the pt.2 here

- Reiner Braun

Since you were the daughter of an important general of the Marley army, you were always around in the headquarters learning about the military service. It was your dad's wish that you could bring honor to the family and for the country.

You never understood really well the importance of all that. You were just a kid.

So when he got busy, you preferred to walk around looking for something interesting instead of listening to hours of a conversation you didn't even understand.

And that's how you met Reiner.

One day, after picking up some book about the history of Marley and Eldia, you went to the patio to sit under the shade of a tree to read. Not long after, other children appeared, running and tired, and since you were behind the tree, none of them had noticed you until then.

“Take a breath and try to reach us later, Reiner. The commander will not like it if you don't finish the training ” said an older voice.

You heard footsteps drift away, and only the owner of the painting breath stays.

You were curious to know who it was since you had never seen children in the area. You came out from behind the tree with the tissue you carried in your pocket in hand to offer to the sweaty stranger.

He was astonished at first, and you noticed the golden armband on his arm.

He was an eldian warrior candidate.

Reiner stared at you for a few more seconds before accepting the tissue. He was afraid to offend whoever you were. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and bit his lips, not knowing whether to keep the delicate tissue or give it back.

The tissue dirty with the sweat of an eldian, but still the tissue of a Marley citizen.

"You can keep it if you want"

"thank you," He said almost in a whisper. "But don't you prefer that I take it to wash and then bring it back to you?"

"You don't need to bring it back, but if you want to, I'll be here waiting for you tomorrow"

Reiner ran again without looking back. He did not know how to act after that and when he returned home, he washed the white tissue hidden from his mother to return it to you the next day. He did not expect to see you, so when you came out smiling from behind the tree like the day before, he was more than surprised.

“You brought it! Thanks"

"Thanks…?"

You told him your name and noticed his eyes widen when he heard your last name. It was hard not to know who your father was in the army. So you didn't find it strange and asked the boy's name.

“Reiner. Rainer Braun ”

You smiled again, which made you wonder what was so funny.

"I'm sorry. It's just that it is a name that suits you so much that it is funny. It means warrior. That's what you are ”

You responded by pointing at his armband.

Reiner blushed more than he wanted to admit. Never had a girl said anything like that to him, let alone a marleyan girl.

"It's a pity that we can't talk for more than a few minutes, Reiner. I was never able to talk to an eldian so closely ”

He nodded with his head, still trying to ignore the blush on his cheeks, but it was unsuccessful since you then proposed the last thing that would go through his head.

Your father was indeed a general, but he did not see the eldians as inferior beings. That had been the reason he had entered the military career, had the slightest chance of being able to change that view, that was the honor he wanted you to bring. So he taught you the same thing.

To talk to someone like Reiner was not repulsive, but something that you longed to be able to learn more about the eldians in a narrative that was not what you saw at school.

That's why you proposed that you exchange letters. Secrets so as not to cause any kind of problem for him. He would leave his letter in the hollow trunk of the tree, and you would do the same when you couldn't meet in those brief seconds of his training.

He accepted more for fear of you than willingly, but as you talked about each other's daily lives, about the details you observed in each other, and the disguised looks when you passed by the quarter, this fear gave way to a sincere friendship.

And without either of you realizing in something else.

When he was chosen to inherit the armored titan, you cried for hours in your room in secret, hugging the box where you hid all the letters exchanged for knowing what that meant.

And then he realized that you had fallen in love with the eldian of the letters.

It all happened very fast. You didn't have time to go to the quarter to see if he had left something on the tree and then read in the paper about the group of warriors sent to the demon island.

You never forget about him.

The years passed, and when Reiner returned, you had just taken a patent for being useful in strategy in other wars and thanks to your family's name.

He didn't expect you to remember him, and after everything that happened, he couldn't even think about it much.

But that thought changed when you whispered to him as you passed down the hall without anyone noticing:

"Look in the tree"

Like when you were kids, you had left a letter in the tree, and for some reason that he didn't know how to explain, it brought a certain comfort to his heart.

In the letter, you said how much you missed him. You had written for the old days since you two could talk without bringing any problem to him because you were in the army too. You asked him to meet you in the most deserted building in the area to talk better.

Reiner went to the place, and after seeing you up close for a longer time, he was sure that time had made you a beautiful woman. You talked for a few hours, and it was as if the two of you had gone back to being a child without the traumas he suffered in Paradis and the ones you got on the battlefield.

Once again, time passed, with you two talking cautiously as a precaution, exchanging a note here and there, meeting when you could.

You were the one who gave Reiner the strength to continue.

• It didn't take long for the childhood crush to become love, and the more you two tried to ignore it, the more evident it became until one day on impulse, in one of the many meetings in that building you kissed him.

And he reciprocated.

Your relationship was not easy. It would be a scandal if anyone knew. That's why you rented an apartment farther from the city to meet with more privacy without anyone knowing.

It was not easy, but you loved each other.

Reiner was your first love and your first time, and even with all the disadvantages, you would never choose someone else for that.

And now you're pregnant.

You haven't been feeling very well in the past few months, but you didn't worry too much because you thought it was just a war result, thanks to the stress that started after Paradis. Now, as a commander, you had more work than ever.

But after throwing up your favorite food, you decided to go to a doctor.

The doctor wanted to share the good news with your father, but no one knew about you and Reiner, nor should he. So you just made up an excuse like:

“I want to tell myself. Please keep it confidential ”

And went home.

Part of you is happy, and the other is unable to stop “what if?”

What if someone finds out who the baby's father is?

What if Reiner doesn't react well to the news?

Raising a baby is already a difficult task, creating a baby that should not exist in the eyes of everyone ...

You didn't know what to do.

You needed to speak to Reiner as soon as possible.

With the end of the war and Marley's victory, you met in the apartment you had rented some time ago.

You waited for him to lie down next to you on the bed, and while caressing your face, you said:

"I’m pregnant"

Reiner sat on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. He was serious, he didn't need to ask if you were kidding.

"How long?"

"Two mouths"

He got up and paced the room before looking back at you.

"What are you going to do?"

"So now is just me, hm?"

“That’s not what I mean, baby” He snorts heavily “I just don’t know what to say”

“Maybe a‘ I’m here with you' it'd be enough, Reiner”

"You know I’m"

"Do i?"

Reiner saw you cry a few times, but the image of you sitting on the bed where you shared so many moments with your eyes full of tears will always be the hardest to forget in his mind.

He comes to you, and without saying anything, he cries with you until both are calmer.

Leaving the subject for later was not the smartest decision to make, but for now, it was what you both needed. So you decided to talk after Willy Tybur's speech that was going to happen that night.

That night, you expected to end up in Reiner's arms and not having to run to save yourself, Falco, and Gabi.

And even less shouting his name in a random window to wake him up.

It was your voice that woke him up to fight. It was your voice that made him overcome the desire to die. It was your voice that gave him hope to move forward, and for your voice, for you, he would find a way to work things out.

You stayed by his bedside every day while he was in the infirmary, which generated a lot of rumors about your compassion for the eldian.

When Reiner woke up plagued by yet another of many nightmares, he thought he started to dream when he saw your warm smile.

On an impulse, you hugged him tightly, leaving Pieck and Pig shocked across the room.

“I knew it. I knew you’d be fine ”You said without let him go.

“I'm here for you, baby” He answered, hugging you back. "For you two"

"How did you get the commander pregnant ?!" You heard Porco's voice.

“Pock, I thought you already knew how these things work at that age” teased Pieck.

“Don’t act like you’re not thinking the same!”

“Let’s go outside, and I’m going to explain to you how mama and papa Galliard made you” She teased again by pulling him out of the infirmary and winking at you.

She knew. Of course, she knew. Nothing escaped Pieck's perception.

You told your parents about the pregnancy, afraid to tell you who the baby's father was. They understood the situation and helped you both throughout your pregnancy.

Reiner always showed up at your house around dawn to make sure no one saw him. He always wanted to know how you were doing and compensate you in some way for not being able to go out and see you as a partner would do.

Many rumors arose about who your baby's father would be, but you tried not to care since it was all rumors after all.

When you went into labor, it was a mess. The initial plan was that he would not come to your house so as not arouse suspicion. Pieck and Porco tried to convince him not to go, but he ran up to your house and entered the back. He couldn't stop thinking about your face. He couldn't leave you alone in a moment like this.

And honestly, you were more than relieved when you saw the blonde enter your room, hold your hand, and repeat the same words from the day of the infirmary:

“I’m here for you, for you two”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyojin #armin x reader #anime #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #reiner x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #Eren Yaegar #eren yaeger imagine

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peachyaone · 4 years ago

Text

the pain of losing and the relief from comfort.

pairings: giyuu tomioka x gn! reader

warnings: mentions of battle and a breakdown.

plot: you break from the pain, can giyuu put you back together?

The mission started like any other but quickly turned into a living hell. An upper moon with a large group of its friends, slaughtering the unprepared and terrified slayers one by one. You tried to assist them but there was too much for you alone to handle.

Giyuu was gone, he was assisting others at the other side of the field. Your legs were so close to collapsing. You look up to see one of the demons grasping another slayer, its large hand crushing his neck, killing him instantly. You sped by and sliced its head, killing the beast.

The determined slayers fought their hardest, and after hours of fighting, almost all the demons in the area had been defeated. There were too many casualties and injuries to keep going with the mission.

“FALL BACK!” Your voice echoed through the battlefield. Then you saw The Upper Moon cornered a group of slayers. You knew those kids. “No.” You said under your breath. You pushed yourself forward.

You would never forgive yourself if you let them die here.

You saw it grabbing one of them, you were begging to the skies to let you get there in time. But then a group of demons stopped you. You fought them in a desperate, rushed manner. You heard screams coming from the group. Your heart started to beat a thousand miles per hour. You were so, so exhausted.

"SENSEI!” “PLEASE HELP US!”

More screams and pleads for the demon to stop came from the younger slayers clouded your mind. When you successfully decapitated the demons, to your horror, the Upper Moon has eaten them. The light inside your eyes faded.

You stood there in shock.

Your legs gave out and you fell to the ground.

The Upper Moon escaped, as you sat there, still and in shock.

“Y/N!” Giyuu ran up to your dazed form. “If you aren’t hurt, get up and focus on the battle .” You couldn’t hear him. He was cold and harsh, but deep down, you knew he was trying to help you. You couldn’t help but feel like you deserved to die for not saving your juniors. You just fucking stood there and watched all of them die.

Giyuu cursed under his breath. There was no way you were in any state to fight. He figured you had seen something traumatic when he saw the way you were looking at the pile of bloody uniforms. Witnessing the deaths of somebody you cared for was not easy, especially when you lose everyone at once. He would know. He knew you would blame yourself. He knew you’d feel guilty for not being able to save them. He saw it in your eyes. You were shutting down your emotions as you wouldn't feel the pain. You wanted to grieve for them, to scream your throat raw. But now wasn’t the time.

“Hey.” His voice softened. “Come on, get up.” He said.

You couldn't look at him. You just stared at the spot. Your kids were screaming for help. Help that you couldn’t give them. If only you had just moved faster. If only you pushed yourself harder. They were just children.

Giyuu kneeled in front of you, his steel-blue eyes boring into yours. He noticed that the shine that you always had in your eyes was gone.

“Come on. We have to get away from here.”

You were on a brink of breaking down while he lifted you up, hoisting you onto his arms. He cradled your head into his chest and rushed to the headquarters.

When you got home, immediately brought you to the Butterfly Estate to ensure you weren’t injured in any way. After getting patched up, he took you to his estate.

He set you down in his bathroom. You hugged your knees to your chest, tears threatening to fall at any moment. Your mind was racing a million miles a minute, reliving the moment. No matter what you did, you couldn’t stop seeing it and hearing the screams of terror coming from your students. They were your responsibility and you failed them.

Giyuu turned on the water, the sound of running water played as background noise to you. His eyes glanced in your direction sadly. He knew you love those kids like your own. You would talk about them so often, with a soft parental look. You went through the tough years of training them. Losing people that close to you would be difficult. He knew. He felt lost and defeated after losing Sabito. If he had stayed with him, who knows whether or not he’d still be here. He didn’t have anyone to help him grieve. But this time, he had you. And he plans to do the same for you.

As the warm water filled the tub, Giyuu’s fingers hesitated to wonder if he should even do this. Well, you were sweaty and caked with dirt and dried blood. He was sure that you wouldn't want to wake up to see the reminder of your loss. And there was no way he would leave you like this. He took off your haori, and unbuttoned your uniform, then carried you to the tub.

He knew he wasn’t the best at comforting, how was he supposed to know what to do? He didn’t have anyone to show him how. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable but still, you clearly need someone right now. He grabbed the cloth and poured a generous amount on his hand and began to gently scrub the dirt and blood of you. You closed your eyes at the gentle scrubbing.

Giyuu’s calloused hands were so gentle against your body, washing away the evidence of what happened earlier that day. His hands felt good against your skin. You just wanted to be close to him, to fall completely apart, but you didn’t want him to think that you’re weak or annoying.

He didn’t expect you to be this silent. It makes him feel uneasy.

He gently set you down on the bed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you into your nightwear, then he moves to quickly take a shower himself.

Yeah, you don't really talk a lot sometimes, preferring to savor the comfortable silence with him. You never minded talking about how you felt, and he surely never minded listening. He fathered you talk to him, instead of bottling your emotions like that. After he took you out and dried you, he carried you over to the bed. Your slightly damp hair leaving spots on his haori.

It was that moment you exploded.

Your body began to shake as tears streamed down your face, soft sobs escaping your lips. The images of each student flashed so vividly in your mind and your heart started to feel heavy again. Your nails dug into your arm, creating little indents in your already scarred skin. You hissed in pain but you didn’t make any effort to move it either. Your breath uneven and you wailed loudly as you think of them. Giyuu came running to you.

“I couldn’t save them, my children-“ Your hands gripped your arm tighter. You just wish you had done something to help them. Even if you had been injured or killed, you at least would die knowing you saved your students, your children. Your breathing had become frantic and you were on the verge of tears. "They were calling out for me and I couldn't even save them!" Your eyes squeezed shut, wanting to scream. Giyuu grabbed your cheeks and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Hey, hey, hey.” his voice called out to you softly. “breathe for me, dear, breath.” He pulled your hands away from your arms and made you hold his. He was being soft and kind, which was different than he usually is. Then again, you needed him. So, you threw yourself into his arms again, hugging him tightly. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against his body.

“Nobody blames you.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “Your students, they will not die for nothing. You hear me? We’ll have to take revenge, for them, alright? We’ll make those demons pay.” He said. You nodded against his skin. He kissed your head. “That’s my dear.” He whispered. “Giyuu?” You whispered. He hummed in reply. “Can we… can we go back and give them a proper burial tomorrow morning?” You asked him. “….” He looked into your eyes, searching for signs of guilt and that you were forcing yourself to do this. “It's the least I can do.” You said, looking away. “Sure. We’ll head there first thing in the morning.” He said. “Thank you.” You whispered, holding him tighter. “You welcome.” He said.

He may be a man with a few words but you knew you can always depend on him when times get rough.

#giyuu tomioka #giyuu tomioka x gn!reader #giyuu tomioka x genderneutral reader #kny #demon slayer #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #eli writes #kny fanfics #giyuu fanfiction #kny x reader

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justcourttee · 4 years ago

Note

hiiiii i don't know if you take prompts or requests or anything, but would you maybe consider writing a sequel to A Moment Too Late? maybe with a happy ending? i love your writing!!

I tried for what I’ll call a happy-ish ending, but I hope you still enjoy it!

*WARNING* This piece and part 1 mention attempted suicide and can be difficult for some. Please, please, please be sure you feel comfortable reading about this topic before clicking below the title.

In The Nick of Time

Damian took his first step into the city of love at 4:00 pm.

He had a general idea of where to begin, but the combination of no sleep and jet lag was taking its toll. He had tried reaching out to her several times on the flight over, but she ignored his every effort. It could have just been the fact that she was in her classes. She may have been suicidal, but maybe she still took her education seriously?

It wasn’t likely, but it helped put his mind at some ease, hoping he still had time. His first order of business was renting a car. Technically speaking, his father had a villa on the outskirts of the city with a multitude of cars to pick from, but seeing as no one knew where he was, he wasn’t eager to tip them off.

He gazed over the taxis lined up, eagerly looking to take advantage of the tourists piling out of the airport behind him. He didn’t want someone to eager, he just needed someone who looked on the brim of exhaustion. His eyes landed on a poor man propped against his car, his eyes drooping like Tim before his first cup of the day. Perfect.

“Excuse me sir, but I’d like to rent your car from you for the day.”

The man peeked one eye open as he glanced warily over Damian.

“Scram kid, it’s a package deal, me and my car. You can’t just rent one or the other-”

Damian smirked as the man snatched the bundle of money from his hand, popping off the taxi light that stood on top of his car. As Damian slipped into the driver’s seat, he motioned for the man to step back over.

“Here’s a couple of extra bills to catch yourself a taxi home.”

The man’s mouth gaped as if he was searching for air underwater. Damian didn’t even bother to see if he would step back from the curb as he pulled off. The one benefit of the agonizing six-hour flight was Tim’s laptop. Damian had managed to hack into each of the high schools around the city until he narrowed it down to three Marinette’s. After looking at approximate ages and distance, he assumed she had to be the first; one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Her family owned a bakery a little less than a mile from the high school and on the off chance she hadn’t stayed for any clubs or activities, she should be arriving there at any moment. Damian tapped the address into his phone ignoring the multitude of messages he had between his father and Dick.

It was a simple fifteen-minute drive from the airport.

Damian exhaled sharply as he sped down the exit. Fifteen minutes was enough time. It had to be enough time. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Welcome to the bakery! Is there anything I can interest you to today?”

The woman’s face wore a mixture of fake smiles and exhaustion. It might’ve been enough to fool the average customer, but to Damian, she simply looked one gust of wind from collapsing.

“Uhm, I’m looking for Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Is she here?”

Instantly her fake smile dropped and the exhaustion settled into the creases of her face. There wasn’t even a hint of worry at the mention of her daughter’s name from a stranger’s mouth. It irritated him.

“Look, whatever she did now, we don’t have any money for a settlement. Maybe you can work out a deal with her, but we have nothing more to give.”

The woman offered him a half bow before pointing him to a small door at the back of the store. He assumed she meant for him to go through it and without another word, he stepped past her. As he made his way up the countless stairs, his irritation only grew.

He was well aware that there were parents out there indifferent to their children, but his soulmate wasn’t supposed to have one. She was always so happy and carefree when they were younger, abusing the bond whenever she could. He assumed it was because her parents had drilled into her that it was within her right too. But after that short interaction, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Finally, a white door came into view. Hesitantly, he reached out the knob twisting without resistance. Inside was a moderate flat with what appeared to be an attic access. As first impressions went, he thought it seemed like a warm and gentle place to grow up in. Very different from the windowless stone building he began in.

He slipped out of his shoes, placing them beside a pair of light pink ballet flats before taking his first step. Someone was home and by the looks of it, it should be his soulmate. Damian contemplated on whether to call out or not. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he thought it might be worse if he just opened random doors instead. Finally, he settled on attempting their soulmate link once more.

“Marinette? Are you there?”

There was no answer, but he couldn’t be sure if that was just the continued strike from his earlier efforts. Tentatively, he took another step forward, his eyes scanning the apartment. It was pretty much an open concept, so he could see everything quite easily. The only thing that eluded him was the staircase leading above.

That had to be where she was.

“Marinette? That’s how you pronounce your name, right?” Damian sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to hit himself. No matter how he intended it, he sounded like he was some stalker here to kidnap her. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just wanted to talk.”

It didn’t sound any better. Maybe he should've stuck with a gentle introduction through their bond. Speaking out loud only reminded him how terrible he was with people. Animals were easier. Everything that needed to be said could be expressed through body language.

Biting the bullet, he decided it couldn’t get any worse than barging straight up the staircase into the attic. As he pushed open the access, the first thought that crossed his mind was-

“A mess,” clothes were strewn across the floor, remnants of paper scattered within the piles. The walls were a soft pink at one point, but it looked as if someone had taken a paint scraper to them, mere flakes hanging on by a thread. For such a well-put-together apartment, the room almost seemed abandoned.

Pulling himself into the room, Damian left his legs to dangle, his toes longing for the security of the stairs just below him. It didn't seem that she was in here either. He remembered passing another floor, perhaps that was also part of their apartment? Just as he decided to plant his feet back onto the sturdy steps, his fingers brushed over one of the scraps of paper he had seen earlier.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand away from the floor, his eyebrows furrowing. Damian was fairly certain that wasn’t how paper should feel. Reaching back out, he gathered a few nearby scraps. Turning them over one by one, a picture began to form. A group of girls, all laughing completely lost in a moment of time. His curiosity bested him as he pulled himself into the room, gathering each of the scraps he could find.

A half dozen photos was all he could form by the time he collected the larger pieces. Most were group shots, but two were of a blonde guy. Upon further analysis, he determined that he was the son of the fashion dictator Gabriel Agreste. He had seen the boy at a couple of Bruce’s international parties.

Perhaps she thought he was attractive? After all, the photos seemed to be ripped from a magazine, unlike the other four. As he glanced around the room once more, he felt like he had finally found a straw to grasp at. A reason she dropped so far, so fast.

But as much as he gathered from her room, he still had no idea as to where she might be. Her shoes were at the door, but it didn’t seem as if she was anywhere in the apartment. Standing slowly, Damian took a step back toward the access he had entered through when a breeze tickled the back of his neck.

His entire body stiffened as his hand moved slowly to where he kept his emergency kunai.

“Is that you, Marinette? If so, you’re pretty good at masking your presence. I didn’t even sense you approaching.”

There was no response, but now that he knew she was there, it was easier to pick up on her shallow breathing. In one swift movement, Damian flicked his wrist backward, ducking to avoid any retaliation.

A soft grunt earned a glance backward, his eyes widening a bit at the sight. She hadn’t even tried to dodge it. Lodged into her right shoulder was his kunai, and just below it, centimeters away from her heart, was a pocket knife. A bright pink light blinded him and instinctively his arms darted out. When he could see again, a petite figure rested against his frame.

“Marinette?” She was unresponsive, a deep ruby dripping from her wounds. “Marinette!”

What was this panic he felt rising? He’d seen comrades die on the battlefield before, wounds more deadly than this. So why couldn’t he move? Logically, he knew he had to act fast, but his body wouldn’t inch.

“You’re her soulmate, right? Do something!” Damian’s head snapped up, but he couldn’t find where the voice came from. Whoever it was, it was enough to break whatever daze he had fallen into.

“Okay Marinette, I have basic medical training and I can patch you, slow the bleeding, but I can’t remove either blade. Do you understand? I’m going to have to move you, quickly and as stable as possible.” Her breathing was shallow, but her eyelids flickered in what he hoped was a response. As gently as her could, he lifted her into his arms, attempting to avoid moving either stab wound. Her soft grunt pulled at his heart. “Hold on a little longer Marinette, please, I need to apologize.”

The stairs were one agonizing moment after another and as he laid her into the backseat of his rented car, he felt winded himself. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Damian quickly pulled out his phone, cursing as it slid through his hands.

“Dammit, where did it fall?” He frantically searched, his heart rate rising with every passing moment. Was this the world’s way of punishing him? He killed and fought and argued every passing moment of his life. He pushed her away and now that he thought he was making a change, he could just waltz back into her life as if nothing had happened? He wasn’t going to make it.

“Just drive, I’ll guide you.” Had he finally lost it? It was the same imaginary voice he had heard before. Perhaps it was his subconscious, a guardian angel? Could he really trust it? “Drive boy, take a left at the stop sign.”

He couldn’t afford to wait another moment so he did what felt most logical; he drove. The drive was killing him, each painful breath becoming slower, a dagger to his heart as they escaped from her mouth.

“Just leave the car in the front, save my friend.” The only thing keeping him going was the voice.

Damian had barely parked, his feet already slamming on the pavement before the engine had stopped. Gathering her into his arms, he burst through the sliding doors, the fear rising in his throat.

“Help! I need help!” He knew his French was rusty, but he had to try. The nurse tentatively approached him, her gasp needing no explanation. A stretcher was rushed, and as they ripped her from his arms, Damian couldn’t help the anger he felt.

“Be careful with her! She’s going to die if they shift too much!” A security guard stepped over, his hands raised as if he meant to calm Damian. He took another step forward, trying to grip Damian’s arm. “What are you doing? I need to be with her! Marinette I’m right here! Can’t you hear me? I need you Marinette! Please don’t leave me!”

Damian watched as they placed the stethoscope on her chest, grim expressions hastening their step.

“Don’t look at her like that! Help her! Please!” It felt as if his lungs were collapsing, his vision blurring. Why was he reacting like this? He barely knew her. In fact, this was his first time ever seeing her.

“Sir, please calm down. They are treating your friend right now, the best thing you can do for her is sit and wait.”

The man led him to a couch where his legs finally caved, his back sinking into the chair. Damian lifted his hands to his face, wiping the tears he hadn’t even realized he had cried, but it only left his cheeks damper than before. Slowly, he pulled back his hands, his stomach plummeting. There wasn’t an inch of skin left uncovered by the red.

“Oh, oh,” Had he really not noticed how much blood she had lost? He was so focused on getting her here that he didn’t even consider if she would make it. “I thought I could make it, I thought I still had time.”

Damian recognized this feeling rising in his chest. It was the same as when he collapsed on the roof, the same as when he heard from her after so many years of silence. Was this what his mother meant by a soulmate bond being a distraction?

He had never understood why people took the insane challenge of fighting his Grandfather for a chance to leave the league in search of their soulmate. If he was honest, he thought it was a pointless endeavor and he couldn’t begin to imagine how someone believed they could pull it off. But, as his chest tightened with the rising waves of nausea, a realization washed over him.

A soulmate bond was so powerful that even if you just met them, you felt the need to protect them, to care for them. You became vulnerable for them, scared to lose them, terrified of how the world would be without them. It was a terrible weakness and a strong ally.

“Can you walk to the bathroom?” Damian felt his head stir, but it was as if it were being pulled by strings, out of his control. “I’ll explain everything if you could just meet me there.”

How could this voice be so all-knowing? Hadn’t it just surfaced from his subconscious as a way to kickstart his movement again? Yet, if that were the case, why did he find himself rising, stumbling toward the bathroom in a daze?

He slipped into the closest stall, collapsing against the door, the minute it locked. Why did he feel so drained? It was less than 500 feet.

“Do you need to sit down? I know that this must be hard on you.”

Damian’s eyes scanned the stall in search of a source for the voice, but alas, he came up with nothing. Sliding to the ground, he chuckled to himself, his hand clutching his shirt.

“I’ve finally lost it. Todd told me this day would come, but how could a dumbass like him even know?”

“You haven’t lost anything, I’m right in front of you, you just have to push through the veil.”

Damian perked up, squinting his eyes at the space directly in front of him. Slowly, but surely, his eyes focused on a red blur until the floating object came into full view.

“Holy shi-” Two paw-like things pressed his lips together, a disapproving look monopolizing its small face.

“Can you keep it down? And what’s with all this foul language? I can’t say I approve of you being my Chosen’s soulmate with a mouth like that.”

It floated a few inches away, crossing its arms as if trying to push the point across. Damian tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He was positive that he hadn’t had anything. Perhaps this was one of those sleepless hallucinations that Drake constantly rambled on about?

“I know that look, I’m not a hallucination, I’m a kwamii! My name is Tikki and I am Marinette’s partner. Together, we merge to become the superheroine of Paris, Ladybug.”

Ladybug? He had heard Bruce mention a Parisian team. They asked for any heroes to stay out of Paris as their villain was one that manipulated emotions, turning his victims into puppets of his own bidding. No wonder Bruce and Dick were blowing up his phone. They weren’t just worried about him running off, they were also worried about him breaking an international treaty.

Damian blinked slowly as he processed the image in front of him. Kwamiis. He had heard the legend of them back when he was apart of the League of Assassins, but he had no idea they truly existed. Why was his soulmate in possession of the most powerful being in the world?

“It’s a long story soulmate of the Chosen. I have traveled long and wide and have had many wielders before, but never one as capable as Marinette. When I first found myself as her partner, she was clumsy and shy, but so friendly and kind, always going out of her way to help people. Together, we defeated the original Hawkmoth, but in the battle, his kwamii was reclaimed by one of his partners and a new Lady Hawk emerged.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The kwamii shot him a questioning look as if the answer was obvious.

“I’m trying to give you the full picture of where it all began. You blame yourself as the catalyst, but you were only a small stepping stone in her downfall, almost not worth mentioning.”

Damian felt an odd swelling in his chest. It almost felt like, relief? Had he really been this worried that he had pushed her down this path? A lonesome tear trickled from his eye, but he was quick to snatch away.

“Marinette had friends, a boyfriend even. She wasn’t completely lost without a soulmate. After all, her parents weren’t soulmates, and her best friend was rejected by their soulmate too. She was happy.” The kwamii paused, her smile reminiscing before it slowly morphed into a frown. But it all changed when a wretched girl transferred into her middle school.”

“Just one girl changed everything?”

The kwamii nodded, small tears forming.

“She was the real catalyst. The reason everything fell apart.”

Damian lost track of how long he sat listening to the small God. When he stood to return to the waiting room, he couldn’t help but clench his fist in an attempt to calm himself. Marinette had to pull through, she just had to. Damian had to show her that there was more to life than this shitty one in Paris. He had to rescue her like his family had for him.

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

It was 36 hours before he was allowed back to see her.

She had been lucky, the knife had missed her vital organs and even though it had punctured her lung, she seemed to be on track for a full recovery, one that she needed to take slowly. Damian dealt with the police on her behalf and thanks to Tikki’s information, he was able to help them identify the mugger.

Tikki had gone ahead to talk to Marinette and to give him time to freshen up. He didn’t have much, but the little he had packed at least got him fresh clothing, clothing not stained with her blood. Alfred would not be happy with him once he returned.

Damian was unsure how to approach her. He had found some flowers in the gift shop he thought were nice and some chocolates as well. But as he stood in front of her hospital room, he realized he hadn’t figured out the first thing he should say to her.

I’m sorry? No, that sounded too arrogant after everything she had been through. My name’s Damian, I saved your life? No, that would be condescending. God, he really hated talking to people.

“Are you going to come in or just sit outside all day?” Her voice sent shivers down his spine. She hadn’t always been this cold, but he couldn’t blame her.

Hesitantly, he reached out, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. She looked angry, slight red emphasized on her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes protruding as if they dared him to comment on them. There were a million and one wires and tubes poking out in different directions, some hooked to machines, some to random bags of fluid.

Yet, despite all of it, she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Well, sit down or something. You’re creeping me out just standing there.”

Damian shuffled awkwardly to the opposite side of her bed, his legs wobbling as he lowered himself into the chair.

“Uhm, I brought you some flowers-”

“I hate the color white.” Damian felt his eyebrow twitch, but he tried his best to hold back the expression he felt. Gently, he reached back, setting the flowers on the windowsill.

“I-Uhm-I also brought you some chocolat-”

“I’m on a liquid-only diet for the next two weeks.”

Damian could feel the red rushing to his face as he breathed deeply. He knew there was a chance that she would be spiteful, but he hadn’t been completely ready for it. His fuse was short, even if it was his soulmate, he wasn’t sure he could contain the explosion.

“Are you feeling any better?” Marinette scoffed, her eyes never leaving her hands.

“Did you fly all the way to Paris for small talk Damian?” He wasn’t sure how to respond, knowing his next words might be his last. “Ask what you really want to. Like why did I detransform before trying to face the mugger? Or why have I tried to kill myself multiple times even if each time ended in failure?”

“I-”

“Ask me why all my friends left me. Ask me why my master chose the easy way out, forgetting everything before passing on weeks later without even a single message about his death from him or his girlfriend. Ask me why I hate life so much that I just don’t see the reason in living anymore. Ask me if I think you’ll change my mind! Spoiler alert! You won’-”

“God woman, do you ever shut up? Give me five damn seconds to get my thoughts together.”

Damian instantly felt the eyes of Tikki fall upon him, the anger draining from his body only to be replaced by his rising fear. He felt the apology building up, but before he could even let the first word spill out, a bitter laugh cut him off.

“Yeah, I do shut up. But only sometimes. I figured Tikki told you everything. I also figured you’d have questions. I’m not interested in telling my sob story over again and I’m not interested in some knight in shining armor swooping in to save me, Got it?”

Damian tried to speak, but it was as if his voice were caught in his throat. What could he say to her? He wasn’t trying to be her knight? He didn’t need her explanations? Everything sounded so thoughtless, but he couldn’t string together one coherent and earnest sentence to save his life.

“What I am interested in is your nonsensical shouting. You ‘need me’? You just met me, how do you know that you need me?”

If he wasn’t already as red as a tomato, he was certain that was how he looked now.

“I,” he cleared his voice, praying to whatever was listening to keep the crack away, “I just had this feeling swell up in my chest seeing you like that. I was terrified and it scared me. It scared me to feel that way about someone who I had just laid eyes on. I had heard about soulmate bonds and how they affect you. They can strengthen you, but they can also be your downfall. I needed to get to know you, to know how our bond would affect me.”

He paused, the feeling of her eyes on him choking him up.

“I, uh, I know it’s selfish, but I couldn’t let you die. You don’t have to believe me, you don’t even have to listen to me, but I have been where you are before. But before I could even make my first attempt, I had a group of people come into my life, people who lifted me up and saved me. I was scared that you didn’t have that and I arrogantly believed I could do that for you. I’m truly sorry Marinette, but I refuse to apologize for saving your life. If I could, I would do it over and over and over again as many times as it takes until you decide to keep living.”

The silence was deafening. Even if she just yelled at him and told him to leave, he would take it over this quiet. He didn’t dare look up, he barely felt the urge to breathe. It was as if everything fiber in him was holding their breath, waiting to hear her response, any response.

“You’re really not gonna leave me alone, huh?”

Her voice sounded tight as if she were holding back tears. The urge surged through him to reach forward and pull her into a hug, but he contained himself, defaulting to a simple nod instead. Again, the silence followed, but he was patient. He would wait all day if it meant hearing her speak again.

“Fine. I’m not guaranteeing a damn thing, but I can offer you a start.”

“A start?” Damian risked a small glance up, his heart racing at the sight. She was smiling, a genuine smile. It looked out of place among her tear-stained face, but he would be lying if he didn’t say it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Yeah, apparently I’m going to need someone to stay by my side 24/7 when they release me. Someone to take care of me. A stay-at-home nurse if you will. So, I nominate you, Damian. Your response?”

“Absolutely, it would be my honor.” His reply was instant, his smile unwavering even after she chucked her pillow at him, cussing him out in a manner that Todd would be proud of.

Yes, it was just a start. Yes, it didn't mean anything was fixed. But, there was one thing that put his heart at ease.

He wasn’t too late.

No, in fact, he was just in time to save her life. And at that very moment, he vowed to never wait till it was almost too late again.

Despite everything that had happened, he decided he could live with that.

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#marinette x damian #maribat #daminette

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Way I: The Vow

Summary: Ivar comes to Earl Gunnar to form an alliance; the use of the Earl's strong fleet in exchange for Ivar making one of Gunnar's many daughters his wife. While there, none of the girls that practically throw themself at him catch his eye. No, he wants the woman that is ready for any fight. He wants the woman that vows that she will die on a battlefield.

Warnings: strong language, mentions of arranged marriage (kind of), blood vows, blood, small angst, fluff, mentions of death during childbirth, please please please let me know what you think of this because I'm struggling with the next part and feedback always helps me out

Word Count: 2,426

A Different Way Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

Earl Gunnar is known for having many daughters. It means that Ivar is prepared to see so many women in his hall when he arrives. Hvitserk is not as prepared. Ivar also knows that he has to choose one of these daughters to be his wife if he wants this alliance between Earl Gunnar, the two of them have spoken about this in private already.

Gunnar’s fleet has grown larger than Ivar and his army would make a great addition to The Heathen Army. If Ivar wants to carry on raiding England and defeating their growing army, compromises have to be made. He will have to take a wife. And he’s sure that out of Gunnar’s group of daughters, he will find a wife suitable for him.

All his daughters were told about his arrival, to dress in their best dresses, and make themselves look like wives in hopes for his proposal. But there’s something in the way they all whisper and giggle to each other that Ivar doesn’t find appealing. Sure, maybe there are a few beautiful faces that he can learn to love, but none of them catch his attention right away.

“King Ivar. It is an honor to have you in my hall,” Gunnar speaks, standing from his seat and stepping forward. Ivar pulls his gaze away from the group of girls and looks towards him. Hvitserk is preoccupied with the girls, smirking and making them blush and not focusing on the Earl. “These are my daughters. All 12 of them are eager to meet you,” he mentions, gesturing to his giggling group of daughters.

Ivar glances back at them and quickly counts them out of curiosity. He finds a fault. Counting again, he smirks and looks back to the Earl. “I count 11,” he states, the smile on Gunnar’s face falls and his eyes snap over to his daughters.

They all glance around to see who is missing, but their father already knows who. “Where is your oldest sister, girls?” he questions, his second oldest that is only a few years younger smirks at him and folds her hands in front of her.

“Where do you think she is, father?” the girl questions, raising her eyebrow as the rest of the girls behind her snicker, making Ivar even less interested in them and more interested in this missing daughter.

Gunnar grumbles something to himself before the doors of the hall open to allow someone in.

Ivar and Hvitserk turn around to see who it is, Gunnar only closing his eyes because he knows exactly who it is; his oldest daughter. You. And Ivar is taken away by your appearance.

You are not dressed in a fine-fitting dress, nor do you have braids keeping your hair out of your face. You look like you have just stepped off a battlefield, sweat-covered forehead and sword tightly held in your hand.

And when you see the assembly in front of you, your eyes grow wide.

You look right past Ivar and at your father who still has his back facing you. Your sisters all smirk at you, some of them whispering and making each other laugh. And when your father turns around, you know you’re in big trouble because the look of cold, pure anger on his face makes you bite your lower lip.

“You were training?” Gunnar questions, Ivar glancing between you and your father. You give a small nod and shift on your feet, breathing out a sigh because you know what’s about to happen next. And you’re prepared to fight back. Ivar can see it in the way you stand. “And have you forgotten that we are in the presence of a visitor?”

Your eyes flicker over to Ivar, and he takes in a deep breath at the sight of your eyes staring into his. You swallow hard at the sight of his brightly colored eyes, realizing that they live up to the stories you’ve heard of them.

You bow your head to him. “Forgive me, my King. But I wasn’t interested in being displayed like an object for sale,” you spit, your anger not directed at him, but to your father.

Ivar is taken aback by your tone, by the fire in your eyes as you turn your gaze back to your father, and by the way your upper lip sneers at him as you speak. And your voice. It’s powerful and fierce.

Gunnar takes a deep breath to compose himself in front of Ivar and Hvitserk. He holds out his hand. “Give me your sword,” he orders, the daughter’s behind him all oohing like they know what’s about to happen.

You glance down at the sword in your hands and grip it tightly, shaking your head as you look back to your father. “Mother gave me this sword-”

“Give me your sword! Now!” You flinch at his words and take a step forward.

Walking past Ivar, not even looking at him, he can hear your heavy breathing and notices how you desperately cling to your sword. Holding it out when you reach your father, he harshly takes it from you and holds it at his side. “You will get it back when you have learned some courtly manners,” he states, your mouth dropping as your hands roll into fists by your sides.

And you hear your sisters laughing at your misfortune. Turning on your heels, you storm away and mutter incoherent frustration under your breath. “I haven’t dismissed you, (Y/n)!”

“And I didn’t ask if I could leave!” you shout back, turning around to face your father again.

You’re fuming. Something about your rage intriguing Ivar even more and he takes a step forward at the vengeful flicker in your eyes. You don’t care that he is there. You don’t care if some of the people outside now crowd the door of the Hall to see what is going on. There is nothing that will stop your furry for your father.

Gunnar sneers at you and holds out his other hand. “And that will cost you your ax,” he barks, your hand shooting for the ax at your side that Ivar didn’t even see you carrying. “It is time you learn to act like a lady. Now, your ax,” he demands, Ivar’s head snapping to him.

Ivar’s about to dismiss this scene and tell Gunnar that none of this is necessary. But a harsh thud sounds from your side of the room and Ivar’s head snaps over to you. He finds your hand wrapped around your ax’s handle and the blade embedded in the wood of the pillar beside you.

Without another word, you turn back around and storm out of the room; there is nothing left for your father to take.

Gunnar turns his gaze to Ivar and sighs. “Perhaps we can discuss this later, King Ivar. I have to…talk to my daughter,” he says, not waiting for Ivar to reply before walking after you.

Hvitserk turns to Ivar and sees him staring in the direction you left. “She’s the one you want, huh?” he asks, a smirk growing on Ivar’s face as he recalls that fierce fire he saw in your eyes. “She’s going to be a handful, Ivar.”

“At least she won’t bore me to death then,” Ivar mentions, glancing over his shoulder to the group of gossiping girls.

Hvitserk chuckles at him. “You’ll have to win her affection first and I don’t think she will be as easy as her sisters,” he whispers, Ivar’s eyes return to where you walked out of as Hvitserk glances at your sisters.

He’s right. You don’t look like you’re as interested to be his wife as your sisters are. But that’s what will make it all the more fun for him. And if he manages to win you over, He will be a very happy man.

People know that when they see you storming down the hallways to stand aside unless they want to experience your wrath. Even though it’s clear you’re not carrying any weapons, they don’t want to know if you can strangle someone, which is very likely.

Once you get to your room, you slam the door shut behind you with a loud, frustrated groan and weave your fingers through your hair to tug on your roots. You pace the floor, trying to calm yourself down. But all you feel is rage. Picking up your knife when you walk past it, you grip the handle tightly as if your father’s going to take it from you as well. The chances are good if his idea to teach you courtly manner is by removing every weapon you own.

Hearing your door open, you jump around and glare at your father when he walks in. “What? What could you possibly want now?” As you snap at him, you slam your knife into the table beside you making it stick into the wood.

He gives you a stern look as he walks forward, silently telling you not to take that tone with him even though he knows that you won’t listen to him. “When are you going to realize that I only want the best for you?” he asks, reaching for your knife embedded in the table but your hand snatches it before he can even touch it. “You have to start taking responsibility. You can’t spend the rest of your life training or waiting for the battle to break out.”

“And I suppose you want me to settle down, marry some man and have his children?” you viciously ask, pointing your knife at him as you take a step away from him. “Is your preferred way for me to die the same way mother did?”

“Don’t-”

“Because I promise I will never allow that to happen. As a matter of fact-” You hold out your hand and slice through your palm, hissing through your teeth as blood starts to pool in your hand. “I vow that I will die on a battlefield and not because of some man’s child. I make this vow before the Gods. And before a King,” you say, adding the last part when you see Ivar walking into sight.

Gunnar turns his head over his shoulder to see who you’re looking at. Seeing Ivar, he takes a deep breath, his jaw tensing as he slowly turns back to face you. “This won’t change my mind,” he sneers to you, reaching for your knife and pulling it out of your hand.

You flinch, pull your cut hand close to your chest, and narrow your eyes at your father as he turns to walk away. When he passes Ivar, your eyes go to him for a moment before looking down at your hand and turning away from him. You expect him to walk after your father, but you can still see him out the corner of your eye. Still, that doesn’t stop you from looking for a piece of clothing you can rip up and use as a bandage around your hand.

“May I help you?” you snap, looking back at Ivar when you notice that he hasn’t moved yet.

He smirks, takes a small step forward, and runs his tongue over his lips and his eyes fall to your bloodied hand gripping the material tightly. “I thought I would come see if you’re okay. It seemed like quite a nasty fight you had-”

“What do you know?” you cut him off, sitting down on the edge of your bed and fumbling to wrap your hand up. “He’s been that way with me ever since my mother died which has been a long time because she died…” You stop, biting your tongue when you realize that you’re rambling off to someone you don’t know, someone you don’t want to know, all because you’re angry at your father. “Well, that’s none of your business.”

Ivar smiles at you as he steps forward. He definitely won’t get bored with you. Seeing you struggling with the makeshift bandage, he walks towards you and then sits down beside you, resting his crutch next to him. Then, he reaches over to take your hand. You pull it away from him and glare at him.

Tilting his head at you, he tries to take your hand again and this time you let him. “You must trust the Gods if you tried to make a blood promise,” he whispers, ripping the piece of material into a smaller, longer piece before gently taking your bloodied hand again.

“I didn’t make it because of the Gods,” you sternly say, your mean tone making Ivar chuckle and his eyes flicker up at you for a second before he looks back at your hand. “I did it in memory of my mother.”

He hums, slowly wiping away the blood before taking the piece he had ripped off and methodically wrapping it around your palm. “She was a shieldmaiden?” he asks, looking up at you again as he gently turns your hand around.

You stare at his hand, noting the feeling of his rough skin against yours. “She was the best in the city. Or that is what I thought when I was a child. She told me that she saw herself in me when I was born so she taught me how to fight. Even when she was pregnant with my sisters.” You laugh at the memory but then hiss when Ivar starts to tie the bandage. “It was the one thing I had with her that my sisters didn’t have.”

“And it feels like you’re honoring her memory by carrying on fighting?” His question makes you raise your head to him and he looks up at you in return. You open your mouth to speak, but you don’t. He already knows the answer to that questions and you know it.

When he’s done with your hand, you gently pull it away from him and shake your head. “If you’re planning on trying to woo me, King Ivar, I would advise against it. You’ll just be wasting your time.” With that, you stand up and walk away from him and out of your room.

Ivar watches you leave, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. He knows it’s going to be a challenge to win your affection but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? In the end, if he manages to do this, it will be one hell of a story. It will be something the two of you can look back on and laugh at.

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army-author · 4 years ago

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things you said in no man’s land | jhs

❝ in the middle of no man’s land, following a brutal battle, you come across the prince of the enemy nation. he’s wounded and weak. you could simply kill him. yet an unspoken feeling stops you from doing so... ❞

➝ pairing: prince hoseok x princess reader

➝ prompt: enemies to lovers

➝ genre: angst; fantasy au

➝ word count: 1.5k

➝ warnings: mentions of war and death; depictions of injury

The fighting is pointless.

In no man’s land, surrounded by a sea of dead bodies on either side, both your men and the men of your enemy, you can clearly see the folly of endless warring. The smell of mud and blood cloys the air, clinging to your nostrils.

Looking around, the horizon is empty, apart from the shapes of dead horses and dead riders. The stragglers of your army have retreated. The opposing side has done the same, returning to the safety of camp, where new strategies will be devised, new recruits will be deployed, and new morales will be invigorated for another grisly battle. The idea makes you nauseous. Your body is exhausted, magic drained from your veins after blasting spells at the opposite side, cruel sparks crackling from your fingers. When you started learning magic, you had wanted to use it to heal and strengthen. Now you use it for the opposite, your inherent gift weaponised for war.

As the princess of the White Dragons, you were destined to the lead the war when the fraught peace with the Black Lions ended in a flurry of bloody border disputes. You had been trained to fight from a young age, both with the sword and with your magic.

The thought makes you ill. You spit on the mud, where the trickles of water from the last rain shower run red. You know that you should not be standing in no man’s land. Even with the battle over for now, if anyone from the Black Lions were to see you, all it would take is a well aimed crossbow bolt to the head and you’d be gone. Let them, you think. You don’t want to fight any more.

You walk through the mud, searching in the hopes that you’ll spot a survivor you can help back to camp. But the bodies before you are all corpses now.

Then, you spot a shape heaving before you. Someone managed to live after all. But this body is on the wrong side of no man’s land. A Black Lions’ survivor, dragging himself through the dirt. As he gets to shaking feet, you freeze. His dark hair is buffeted off his face by a weak breeze, revealing his features, stained with dried blood, but still recognisable. Jung Hoseok, the Black Lion’s crown prince.

Standing before you is the heir of your enemy, weak and wounded. All it would take is you drawing your sword, and in one swift motion, you could end his life. With their prince defeated, the Black Lions would retreat, giving temporary peace. But for how long? A few months? Then what?

Hoseok turns to you, and recognition flashes in his troubled eyes. Blood trickles down his face from a wide gash on his forehead.

“Well, princess,” he says in a weak voice, raising his hands to you, “It would seem that the gods are on your side today. Here I am, weaponless before you. Kill me if you wish.”

You swallow, drawing your sword from its sheath. He sways in front of you as you walk towards him. You raise your blade. With one clean cut you could chop through his vital arteries, and watch the life drain from him.

- ✽ ✽ ✽ -

Many years before new war, the Black Lions had met at the White Dragons’ palace for peace negotiations. The peace had not lasted long, but those fleeting years are your most fond childhood memories.

When the Black Lions had arrived at the palace, you remember spotting Hoseok for the first time. He had been hiding behind his father. He was only a young child at the time, around the same age as you. Being young and naive, you had not understood the conflict between your families. All you saw him as was a new playmate. So you ran up to him, and stuck out your hand in greeting, before proceeding to ask him if he wanted to play hide and seek with you. He had been hesitant at first, but after his father gave him a nod, Hoseok had followed you, leaving the adults to negotiate over borders.

You had run through the palace, ducking in and out of the many rooms with Hoseok, giggling as you went. You were happy to have a new friend.

When your father had later corrected you, explaining that no heir of the Black Lions could be a friend of yours, you had worked yourself into a flurry of tears, hiding yourself in your room for days. You didn’t understand why the kind boy couldn’t be your friend.

- ✽ ✽ ✽ -

You drop your sword to the ground in front of Hoseok. “I can’t do it,” you tell him.

His eyes search yours, confused.

“I can’t kill someone so defenceless,” you say, “It doesn’t feel right.”

Hoseok grimaces, “You White Dragons, with your self-assured sense of honour...” A groan escapes his lips, as he grasps at his side. You see blood staining his fingers. “Even if you do not kill me now, I don’t believe I have much time left. If you go now, you’re simply leaving me to a worse fate.” At those words he sinks down to the mud with a hiss of pain. Blood is seeping into his cloak, bubbling up from under his chain mail.

Without realising what you are doing, you instinctively kneel down next to him, lifting up his chain mail and his undershirt to expose a gaping wound on his stomach. You hold up your hands to his wound, and begin to murmur the words of a healing incantation.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok’s voice is steeped in confusion.

You ignore him, concentrating on the wound before you, as you knit shattered ribs, correct the flow of blood, and lace skin together again. The incantation drains you of the last of your energy; the damage is almost too much for you to repair. You’re left gasping for air as you finish, leaving an ugly scar on Hoseok’s skin.

“Why?” his dark irises search your own.

“I...” You shake your head, unsure how to explain yourself, “I don't… want to fight any more… I know it’s naive to think in such a way, but I was reminiscing on when you and I were children, and we played hide and seek in the palace. I struggle to see the man that young boy grew into as an enemy… Even though I should.” A sudden sob shudders through you. “I’ve seen too many people die today. I can’t bear to see another.”

You close your eyes, feeling tears stinging your eyelids. You should not be showing this side of yourself to Hoseok of all people. He could simply pick up the sword you dropped, and end you in an instant. Still you keep your eyes shut, lips trembling on unspoken words.

You feel a warmth on your hand, and pry your wet eyes open to see Hoseok’s hand on yours. You glance up to him, seeing a strange expression contorting his face. “I understand,” he murmurs. His thumb rubs a soft circle on your palm.

You stare at him, and he stares back, as if surprised by his own actions.

“I wish we could stop the war,” you tell him, “I know its naive to hope for such things, but I cannot help this feeling.”

Hoseok nods, “At least I know there’s hope for your nation once you ascend to the throne. The White Dragons will have a kind and just ruler.”

“I know the same will be true of the Black Lions once you become king,” you reply softly.

Hoseok’s grip on your hand grows tighter. You get the sense that he wants to say more, but he keeps his mouth shut. His eyes search your own, his cheeks flushed. You feel a seed of hope root itself inside you. Maybe someday there will be peace between your nations, heralded by a new generation of royals.

Despite knowing that you should quell such feelings, a shiver runs through you when Hoseok offers you a sad smile. You refuse to name the emotion, instead pulling Hoseok to his feet, standing firm in the empty space between enemy camps.

As you part ways, you to the White Dragons, and he to the Black Lions, the stubborn emotion persists in your chest, heavy on your heart. You know it will only become more problematic over time. You try to ignore it, and leave it unnamed.

But it has a name. It’s name is love.

- ✽ ✽ ✽ -

One day, the warring nations will declare peace once more.

On that day, Hoseok will get down on one knee, and ask the kind princess who healed him on the battlefield for her hand in marriage. She’ll say yes.

- THE END -

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physicalturian · 3 years ago

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[G] Gentle summer - Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader - Part 9

[Contains spoilers from the movie, and the manga] [No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18]

Words : 9472

Archive of our own

Warnings : Mention of death (canon) / Blood / Gore / Wounds

This chapter contains a lot more spoilers than the previous chapters, it describes the end of the manga. You've been warned!

— Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

The enemy was strong, that was something we knew from the beginning, but it was even more obvious when we separated into groups and rushed to the shambles that remained of Master Ubuyashiki’s estate, the place that we would later call the battlefield. As we all peeked out from the forest, we saw Muzan being pierced from all sides, the lady demon Tamayo had her hands through his chest and determination written on her face. That was the role Master Ubuyashiki had given her, the part she had to play in this battle was one that would give us the advantage, even if only for a few moments. Master Ubuyashiki knew he was going to die and chose the most honorable way to do so by sacrificing himself, fully confident in his children’s skills to defeat the infamous demon King.

Feeling tears coming up, I reprimanded myself, now is not the time to cry, his life was memorable, and his sacrifice was worth it, mourning was not an option in dire times like these. Shaking myself back into reality, I signaled my team to follow me and stepped closer to the demon in question; the moment the Pillars stepped out of the shadow and went for a hit on Muzan, the sound of a biwa was heard—only a few notes—as if someone had run their fingers over it impatiently. Moments after, we were falling, the ground having moved into a maze-like building underground that had the strangest architecture. Looking up, I did not see my comrades fall with me, the recruits I had trained into full-grown slayers with the help of everyone were hanging in the air, Muzan’s extended arm having pierced their bodies in different places. A sob of shock escaped my lips while I pulled out my sword and planted it into the wall to stop my fall.

I was left hanging on my sword only for an instant before the walls moved and I was thrown on the ground, with barely enough time to catch my weapon from falling straight into my chest. I was quick to get to my feet and get my guard up again while I sheathed my sword. When my thoughts diverged to those who had already fallen, I would clasp my hands on my cheeks and call myself out, telling myself to focus, even letting out screams to motivate myself and let the frustration out. It worked well enough until I stumbled on Zenitsu preparing himself to fight one of the Upper Rank demons. Calling his name, I joined his side only for him to keep looking at what seemed to be the Upper Rank 6 demon. “As usual, you’re a bit shabby. It’s been a while, Zenitsu.” The demon said.

Glancing between the two men, I saw Zenitsu’s resolved face, “Kaigaku, now that you’ve become a demon… I no longer see you as my senior.” I had never seen him so serious, but I knew those words were the words of a man ready to kill; I took that as a signal to attack and did not waste time in doing so. I was thrown aside effortlessly by the demon who had not even given me a glance, his eyes focused on the blond in front of him as they exchanged banters. It was not light banter, it was not fun, Kaigaku was a man that—from what I was hearing—had done the most dishonorable thing that led to the seppuku of Zenitsu’s grandfather. Having your disciple, someone so close you could call him a son, turn into a demon was too humiliating, too much for a retired Pillar, and as respectable of an end as it was, Zenitsu was not over it.

Gripping the hilt of my sword tightly, I knew better than to get up and intervene; it was not my fight, they had something to settle. I was not about to leave him alone in case things went awry, so I stayed at a safe distance and watched everything happen in front of me. The threats, the determination, the anger—no, the ire dripping from Zenitsu’s words. His feelings were only fueled up by the nonchalance of his opponent who seemed to thrive in his newly-found strength as a demon, something he probably lacked as a human. The tension was rising, the argument was riling up both men but as fast as it grew, it ended in the blink of an eye. Zenitsu used his first breathing form, managing to get a hit on the Upper Rank 6 only to have him angered and acting recklessly. The blond followed with his third breathing form and was thrown out the door, quite literally, making me rush to my feet to catch him before he could fall.

My hand grazed his collar, but I did not manage to catch him; the resignation was readable on his face, however it changed rapidly, replaced seconds after by decisiveness. As though he’d just had a revelation, his instincts took control and I saw him jump on the walls to hop from one to the other, reaching our floor level in a flash. And just as fast, I heard him scream his seventh form before speeding away and cutting off the Upper Rank’s head.

I did not have time to be amazed at seeing both bodies falling in the open space their fight ended in. Calling his name to grab his attention, to have him wake up and act like he had earlier, amounted to nothing. My feet moved on their own and guided me into the void; I made sure my sword was sheathed before jumping and catching his falling form. I almost fell with him from how heavy his body was from being passed out, if not for a young boy that had joined me and held him on the other side. “I’ve got it from here, you can let go and reach the upper level.” I did as the boy suggested and hopped from wall to wall to finally reach the ground where healers were waiting. When I took a good look at the features of the boy, I realized I had seen him somewhere; when I had taken Tamayo to Master Ubuyashiki I caught a glimpse of him in the forest. Later on, he was amongst the recruits, but I did not pay it any mind.

“Yushiro, thank you for saving him.” I bowed as he put Zenitsu down, a frown adorning his features. “It’s nothing,” He replied off-handedly. Everyone then looked up when a crow flew by, the paper hanging on it was the work of Master Ubuyashiki’s son, Kiriya. “Dead! Kochou Shinobu is dead! She died after a confrontation against the Upper Moon 2” it said, disappearing in the distance. I felt a weight settle in my chest. I knew it was going to happen, but was also very aware it was just the beginning, that the weight I was feeling would only become heavier the longer this fight lasted. A hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality; looking to the side, I saw Yushiro’s intense look. “We’ve got it from here. Go find the Upper Moon 2, help them in any way possible, we cannot lose this battle.” He stated before turning away and focusing on Zenitsu.

Throwing them a last glance, I jumped off the platform and used my senses to guide me to where the combat was. As I ran around in that labyrinth-like architecture, I felt tremors running through the entire building, followed by determined screams of a voice I knew too well. It made me smile for an instant. That smile was fast to disappear in the midst of cries coming from inside a room I had almost run past. It must be here, I thought as I slashed my way in, coming face to face with the Upper Rank 2, Douma. Ice shards were flying in the air, all towards one central point that was Kanao. She was in great danger; I reacted instinctively, perhaps just as much as the boar-faced boy that had joined my side, screaming his introduction to everyone. It lightened the situation as we ran straight towards danger, coordinated enough to protect Kanao from the shards and slash through most of them together.

Water surrounded us with winding wooden paths to keep us dry. The three of us were in a fighting position; I was ready for the next attack, trying to get a hint according to his movements, any flinch, any gesture of hand. Inosuke did not bother caring and started yelling about becoming a Pillar, hesitating between the Pig Pillar and Beast Pillar as his title. When he was done being loud, he looked at Kanao’s beaten form in shock. She seemed speechless had what had happened, perhaps she had been resigned to dying when the shards started coming for her? Her lips wobbled, she looked from Inosuke to me, anguish painted on her face. We both quickly understood she was feeling all the pain from Shinobu’s death, her eyes telling us enough to get fired up—Inosuke seemingly more so than I was.

I could not see his eyes, but his stance changed drastically when he turned around to face the Upper Rank 2. I pushed Kanao behind me without ever letting my guard down. When Inosuke started taunting the demon, the latter did not take the bait and in a flash of movement that would’ve gone unnoticed to most people’s eyes, I saw him grab the mask from the beast breathing swordsman. A wrong move from the strong demon who was carefree in his actions, overly-confident in his power. “Ahh, so it is a mask!” Douma said, too happily but intrigued at the same time as he observed the boar mask closer. What is he doing? Should we not attack? How can he be so confident?Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he pointed at Inosuke’s bare face, “Oh? I remember you from somewhere! Your face…”

While I was confused—and suspicious—of the words he had uttered, those were not shared. The wild slayer started yelling angrily, perhaps confused too, but loudness seemed like a way to go for the man who fought purely on instinct. Kanao tried to calm him down, in vain. The demon seemed teasing, but when being told he was telling nonsense, he admitted to always being serious, and as he said so he added he had a good memory. “I remember the time I was human quite well,” he hummed, holding his fan-like weapon in his mouth as he brought his nail to his head and dug in his temple, his right eye coloring with blood from the self-inflicted wound. It had the effect he was looking for as his eyes lit up in recognition, a wicked smile displayed on his lips.

“There was a woman, roughly 17 or 18 years old, carrying a baby…” He started slowly before adding that she and Inosuke looked very much alike. From the description, she must have been his mom, but when the demon asked so, albeit rhetorically, Inosuke burst out in anger and told him he had no mother, that he had been raised by boars. Pumped up, he did not think and acted once again out of instinct but this time it was not a surprise, he had been riled up on purpose, he had been read like an open book and Douma made good use of the lines he had studied. When Inosuke was close enough, Douma slashed an X on his chest, making him fall into the shallow pond and onto his knees. Both Kanao and I ran to his side, not caring about the water drenching our clothes as we helped him up; the wound was not deep, barely a scratch on a trained body like his.

The Upper Moon 2 did not stop there, however. He continued, taunting, telling his little story of how he had loved having Inosuke’s mother by his side, how it was regretful that she had run away. He said it made him feel obligated to eat her since she could not go back to her husband for he would have killed her and if she had stayed in the forest she would have died anyway. “So I ate her to the bone!” The demon had said with joy. Anger was boiling inside me, his actions made sense in his silly, ill little mind, but what he did to her was nothing close to a favor. What he did was monstrous, his entire miserable life was horrendous, no actions were redeemable—and yet, he was the one left standing, after all those kind women had stuck by his side, he was the one alive. Mistaking their kindness for stupidity was going to be his doom. The kindness of the woman he had eaten fifteen years ago had kept a child alive for those years that had passed, a child that grew into the very boy he was seeing today, standing determined, relentless.

Unwavering, Inosuke brought his shoulders back and grunted, “I will not cut your head off! I will show you what true hell is like!” He screamed, veins popping on his forehead. He was clenching his swords with so much force I feared they would break, but I knew how strong they were, they could withstand the strength the rage of a broken person could bring. Seeing him so strong-willed made me believe we could do this. I helped Kanao stand as we both stood next to the boar-faced slayer.

The words Inosuke had spoken made the demon laugh. He beautifully made a speech of how humans were pathetic. “You seem to have learned misconceptions, there is no heaven or hell in this world, those places don’t exist.” While he spoke further afterwards, I was more focused on following Inosuke’s rash actions and kept my eyes on him the entire time. I could see the anger seeping from his every pore, his gaze locked on the demon in front of him, “If there is no hell, then I’ll goddamn make one!! Just shut the fuck up already!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. With that, he had motivated himself enough and used his breathing technique by twirling his swords around to counter the incoming shards coming his way. With Douma’s attention on him, Kanao nudged me so that we could take him by surprise.

She went for a hit from the back and for a second I thought it was going to work, but he suddenly turned around and slashed her way. Jumping on the opportunity her attempt had given me, I tried to strike from above. I had trained hard enough for my presence to not be sensed, but he had smelled my bloodlust. With one quick glance above his head, he grinned and threw himself towards me. He gripped my ankle tight and threw me high in the air to then land into the pond; my fall was not made softer by how shallow the water was. With a huff, I pushed through the pain and got my sword ready again. The bored expression on his face was enough to understand he did not feel challenged by our swordsmanship. “Akaza-dono’s been defeated, so I don’t have time anymore.” He drawled, waving his fan gracefully, “You can play with these instead.”

While amazement was our first reaction, we quickly fought back when the ice puppet Douma had summoned made its way towards us. No matter how much I slashed at the lotuses that had spawned out of the puppet, no matter the breathing I used, there was not one scratch on them; at that moment, I wished I could have been stronger, I wished I had developed the powerful mark most had managed to have before today. Never giving up, I backed up and calmed my breathing to focus and recenter myself. This time I managed to destroy one of the ice lotuses, but more kept spawning. Without looking his way, I heard Inosuke scream at the demon, “Damn it! Don’t run away!” followed by Kanao’s voice screaming his name as she interfered and protected him. It was hard not to inhale the particles the attack brought; with each destroyed frozen lotus, more particles were created, more chances of getting weakened.

When I managed to glimpse at Douma, I saw a smirk on his face as he waved our way and 4 more puppets spawned in front of us. Dread filled my being, I could not keep slashing aimlessly at them and hope for a good outcome; I was not at my best fighting under the spotlight, I needed stealth, I needed to catch them off-guard but there was no opportunity to do so. All I could do was endure the hits and stay alive, I also needed to protect the two recruits by my side even if their strengths were far ahead of mine. Inosuke’s screams reached my ears, making me fumble and trip to my knees, that mere second of fear he was going to die made me lose focus. “Inosuke, behind you-“ He did not have time to react to either Kanao’s or my scream that he was slashed across the chest. I followed with my own screams when two of the puppets ran my way and slashed at my arms. I tried to counter their attack but when I managed to counter one, another would hit my arms, it was an endless cycle.

I did not know how Kanao and Inosuke were faring, splutters of blood and quick-passing ice shapes were all that surrounded my vision. Thinking it was never going to end, I faltered again, receiving a stronger hit on my thighs, making me fall to my knees.

Then out of nowhere, the ice puppets stopped moving. They were shaking, not from cold, of course not, but from lack of strength as if… looking to the side, I saw Douma kneeling, blood spattered around his form as his face decomposed, his arms falling. I could not move; I could only see the purple adorning his entire body and the utter shock in his eyes. No matter how hard I tried to get my body to move, I was stuck. Kanao and Inosuke found strength as the puppets shattered, they were on the move again. The fearsome duo threw themselves towards the Upper Rank 2, the Beast breath holder screaming, “Face your death you rotting asshole!” While Douma was keen on hating human emotions, despair hit him like a brick and as a last attempt to take us all out, he summoned a huge ice statue surrounded by the particles that would be deadly if we inhaled.

Bringing my sleeve to my nose, I backed further away from the fight, my body screaming for me to stop moving. I managed to stand up and climbed back onto the remains of the wooden paths,fumbling inside my pockets for any sort of healing ointment. Finding none, I used my sword to fully cut off my left sleeve and use it as a way to stop the bleeding of my deepest cut. The attack Douma had used lacked precision, it was reckless and clearly a rash attempt. He had been more than weakened by Shinobu’s strategy, making him this close to being defeated. Looking to the side, I noticed Kanao had stopped moving and was also assessing the situation. From her look only, I saw something I feared, someone ready to risk it all. Yelling her name, she glanced my way and smiled; for a moment, I could see Shinobu in her—just like her, Kanao was determined to protect, to sacrifice herself for the greater good, and I hated it.

Stumbling to my feet, I screamed again, “Don’t do it! Shinobu-“ I covered my mouth when I realized what I had said. It was too late anyway, the girl had used the breathing technique and was making her way to the demon, there was nothing I could do. Douma had managed to block her, to freeze her on the spot and at that moment, I thought everything was over… until Inosuke’s howl was heard as he helped push Kanao’s sword against the demon’s throat. Seeing them teamed up, fired up and still determined made me realize that this battle was far from over, I had to get on their level and believe in all of us too. Their unbeatable, fearsome duo had been the reason the Upper Rank 2 demon had fallen, there was no way to thank them that would matter as much as their actions.

Slowly, the frozen structure started crumbling as Douma’s head fell to the ground. With a war cry, I got up and sped up to catch the two young falling bodies, my legs were screaming for me to stop but I did not until I had caught Kanao and dropped her down before catching Inosuke, barely. When I managed to hold onto him, he jumped away from me and sat down, reflecting.

This battle had been draining not only physically, but mentally. If I could not be useful when fighting, I could at least help them get their spirits back, and maybe have the healers find us to treat our wounds. So that’s what I did, a crow was sent for help and while waiting for the arrival of the healers, I made my way to Inosuke with Kanao at my side once I had pulled her from the pond. “It might not be the most appropriate moment, but if we need to wait, come here.” I gestured for them to come closer with open arms. And as they hugged me tight, Kanao crying more than Inosuke, the hug became more needed when a crow flew by, screaming, “Upper Moon 1 has been defeated! Tokitou dead, Genya dead! Upper Moon 6 has been defeated!” I swore under my breath, feeling the smaller hands of the recruits gripping the back of my attire as we all tightened the embrace and let out the tears.

I held them the best I could, tilting my head back with my eyes closed. More casualties. More fallen. More heartache. My closest friend had died, the one I had trained years with under Gyomei’s guidance, the one that even in a stupid situation like the one I had gotten in with Rengoku managed to help me out. The same fool who had been desperately trying to prove himself until the very end, I’m sure you never backed down even against the Upper Moon 1, idiot… “You were always worthy.” I uttered under my breath, as I breathed out to calm myself, tears rolled down my face and to my jaw. “Fuck…” I swore under my breath before rubbing the two younger fighters’ back and wiping my tears away as I sniffed, “We go on. Alright?” They looked up at me, eyes red and face still bloody. Placing my hands on their head, I grinned, “The healers are arriving, I can hear them. Let us get ourselves fixed, then we join the others.” I hummed and raised an arm to signal the people to come our way.

I was treated first, the blood dripping from my arms and legs had worried them, but except for a few wounds, the others were superficial. The three of us looked like shit, tears streaming down our faces, head hanging low and eyes vacant. While they stitched my worst wounds shut, I observed them taking care of the two others; it seems the technique Kanao had used had blinded her, but that is not the reason why her gaze was devoid of emotion. The death of her sister, or someone she could call as such, had ruined her. Inosuke had learned of his mother’s past, and while he kept a strong face and just loudly reacted to the healers’ treatment, he was still thinking about it. There were no words to help them get their spirits up, time was what they needed, and knowing their fighting nature, once they would be healed they would get up and fight.

That is what I counted on as I left them and made my way towards the remaining fight. The numbness in my leg was dissipating, I was told it would take time by the people that had treated it but after having ran a while to reach the center of the architecture, I could feel it just enough. From afar, I could hear voices; paying closer attention, a short smile made its way to my lips when I recognized Zenitsu and Yushiro bantering. We met up at an intersection that led to an open area—at the center of it was a huge flesh cocoon. Covering my mouth, I could only stare at it in awe. “That’s Muzan- '' More voices echoed, I looked up and saw the faces of many recruits around, all were standing on their respective level, but a small open door gave us all access to see the cocoon. The area was high and deep, if one was to fall, they would surely break their limbs.

“Should we attack?” I asked Yushiro, at a loss of what to do. He was not the one to reply, “I am glad to see you are still standing my love, it is almost time.” The soft voice said, my heart soared and sank at the same time as I turned around, meeting the beautiful, bloodied face of Kyojuro who had tears in his corps uniform, his hands covered in blood splatters. My body tried to act on its own, almost running to his side and holding him tight—instead, I stood at the very same spot and waited for him to arrive. The urge to grab him and leave with him was strong, the promise of putting my duty first was slowly falling apart as I took a good look at his wounds, he was barely standing. “It surely was something while it lasted.” I said, giving him a side glance as I took his hand in mine, squeezing it hard. “You know, fireworks are beautiful to look at and are better enjoyed with someone you love. But they are quite ephemeral. Intense, but… they never last long, do they?” The warmth of his hand was not from the night, it was from the blood dripping from his arm.

The night was actually cold, it only warmed up when I held him, for just a moment. Perhaps the last one we would have. After all, the last demon that had to be taken down was Muzan. “Even as we are about to battle a demon king, your way with words remains.” I scoffed, ignoring the silent tears that rolled down my cheeks. I was brought a bit closer to Rengoku as he made me face him, his injured hand resting on my cheek before pulling me into one last desperate kiss that I returned needily, “You know me, not even a war could make me shut up.” He laughed, I tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and rested my forehead against his, smiling with sorrow, “I love you.”

When he was about to reply, his expression changed into a frown, and I was shoved aside when Muzan left the cocoon and started killing the recruits around us without thinking twice. I found my footing quickly and rushed to his side as he yelled to everyone, “Find shelter! Wait for the other Pillars to arrive, do not try to fight back-“ his words were cut off when he saw me and gave me a warm smile and whispered, “My soul will always be by your side.” The wind got knocked out of my chest as he pushed me further away again, getting me out of harm’s way. I did not want to understand, I knew fully well what he meant, but I did not want to hear it. “Don’t say that! KYOJURO!” The cry that ripped out of my throat was one of despair, he looked over his shoulders for a single moment, “It’s not a goodbye! Don’t—Don’t smile!” I sobbed angrily, gripping the fabric on my knees tightly when I saw his beautiful smile appear before jumping into the open area and hopped up to where Muzan was.

I was pulled away by Yushiro, but the boy quickly let go and fell to his knees, grunts of pain leaving his mouth. “She’s dead—Tamayo-san she… I have to help the Pillars; the Upper Rank 4 needs to be taken down. Follow me.” He mumbled as he stood up. I felt like throwing up at the sight of the dead recruits surrounding us, my mind also foggy from seeing Rengoku jump into danger. Tremors were felt through the architecture again, making us stumble a few times on our way to the Upper Rank 4, the biwa demon. When it got too much, Yushiro placed Zenitsu on my back and told me he had to hurry. He added that Kanao and Inosuke were on their way and that I should wait for them before joining the fight. I barely had time to think, to tell him I wanted to join him, that he had sped up with another recruit in tail.

Fortunately, they did not take long; I met them along the way, they seemed in a better mood than I had left them in, which was a reassurance if we wanted to get out of this fight with a victory. While we made our way to Muzan, I caught up the two technique users on what had happened only moments ago. How Muzan had been powered up by killing all the recruits and feeding on them, how he had murdered them with almost just a snap of his fingers, explaining how strong he was. They were not deterred by my words which frightened me and eased my mind at the same time. “I will defeat him!!” Inosuke screamed, making Zenitsu whimper as he held tighter around my neck. The walls were moving, making us stumble again; it was becoming more hectic than it had been until now. The sudden movement of the floor made us all fall to the ground, with the crushing pressure pinning us against it, paralyzing us until it decided to stop moving.

We could hear the screams of Obanai and Mitsuri far away but could not find the strength to move as the floor kept going up. I felt helpless, my chest was not only heavy from sorrow and having all those young recruits die, but the pressure that kept increasing made me believe my rib cage would crack open at any moment. When I was about to scream at the utter pain I felt, thinking I was going to die, everything stopped. The floor stabilized, we all got to our feet and did not think twice before running towards the danger; I could feel my body temperature rise at each passing moment, my heartbeat was increasing from all the efforts made, all the blood I had lost, all the pain I had felt. My head was feeling dizzy, but I pushed through and kept up with the speeding recruits, ignoring the burning feeling coursing through my entire body.

It felt like I was dying.

Blinking a few times to clear my vision, I found myself ahead of everyone, a surprised gasp leaving my mouth. The soreness in my body was null—suddenly everything was fine, I could move more freely, all the sluggishness had left and I was aware of every little detail around me. Feeling the breeze coming from above, I looked up and saw the starry night sky. We still had at least an hour if not more until dawn which felt too long, too risky but we had to go on. Hearing the voices up ahead, I made my way up, jumping from platform to platform, my balance unmatched to the one I usually have. I felt undefeatable, but that did not last. The moment I met the cold fresh air outside, I was slammed down by Muzan’s tentacle-arm, “So you plan on keeping me here until dawn?” He gritted through his teeth, his arm lifting me from the ground while his gaze was focused on the Pillars that were outside. “Well go right on ahead! If you can!” he screamed, throwing me into the shambles. I let out a cry upon impact, spitting the blood that had gathered in my mouth.

There was no time to waste. Raising my sword as I sat up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the little reflection that was left on it amidst the blood and saw the mark on my face. It explained the increase in strength, the feeling of being untouchable, the feeling of being alive. Make good use of it, get up and fight, do something! I told myself as I got up and followed the actions of the Pillars who were fighting relentlessly, never stopping their attacks, one always had their blade touching Muzan even as he regenerated. Slashing through him was useless, but we did so over and over again, hoping to gain some time and keep him out here until sunset. I could hear myself breathe heavily, and as I was being thrown back by each tentacle hit, I charged right in again, and again, hoping this time it would make a difference. But all it did was annoy him, to have what he would deem pesky deviants in the way, hindrance as some would say.

With one move, Muzan got rid of everyone that was in his way, sending us all flying, scattering us around the battlefield. Would this be the end? No, not when we are this close to winning, not when so many of us have been sacrificed. Just as I thought that, the death count went up. The recruits had been fueled to the brim with hope, considering their life as lesser than that of the Pillars, entrusting the future to them as they screamed, “Use your bodies as a wall to protect the Pillars! At the very least we’ll protect the swordsmen who can stand against Muzan!” It was heard all through the battlefield, recruits flooded from their hiding spot in the forest and threw themselves in front of the Pillars. I could feel my strength waning, exhaustion was getting to me. I could not look away from the massacre happening in front of me, the blood kept flowing, everyone was getting hit, Tanjirou was taken down, it was a hopeless battle.

Move, fight, do something, you have to do something. Make a difference, even a small one, tip the scale, anything. If nothing changes, we lose and if we lose… I won’t have the life I dream of with him.

But there was no helping my battered body, I was glued on the spot, hands gripping the hilt of my sword tight but unable to lift my arms. A burst of flame illuminated the night, making me glance up and realize two more fighters had joined, “Gyomei, Sanemi…” I breathed in relief, feeling my muscles relax as I planted my sword in the ground for support to help me stand up. Like a foal walking for the first time, I could not help my legs from shaking. A cat walked past me and was headed straight towards the fighting, I could see a paper on its back meaning it was from young Master Ubuyashiki, it was help. It is perhaps what we need—The screams of Mitsuri reached my ears, making me look further behind Muzan to see her on the ground, by two medics. Glancing around, everyone was wounded, their skin bloated from Muzan’s poisonous blood, were they going to die because of that?

My question was rapidly answered as the cat jumped high above Muzan, the little backpack on his back opening and freeing small vials that planted themselves in the still-fighting Pillars. My heart could not handle much more of this, I did not know if I should hope we would win this battle or face defeat head on. None, you move and help around. You can still help, you can treat the wounded, keep them alive, Shinobu taught you all you need to know. It was the middle ground, if I could not fight I could support.

And that's what I did, I helped Murata treat Tanjirou, ignoring how sick I felt knowing Mitsuri was on the ground, on the brink of death, all because of the burden we had placed on her by not being strong enough. Whatever we did, there was no helping the birthmark boy, he was in a bad shape, and that is exactly what Yushiro said as he joined us. In the back we could hear everyone fighting for their life, yelling commands, synchronizing their attack, there were so many people screaming I did not know who was still alive but as long as I could hear some people, we had a chance. I could hear Yushiro talk, but had a hard time taking in the information, so I pointed at Tanjirou’s fist, “He’s still conscious, he’s still alive, something can be done, right?” My voice was weak. I watched as he sunk a syringe in Tanjirou’s arm.

We waited, impatient, needing something to happen, the tension almost palpable but his pulse was slowing, making us fear he would not make it. None of us was speaking, we could hear the cries behind us, far away, of those who were fighting for our sake. I was startled when Murata screamed at the top of his lungs, “Muzan’s gonna get away! We have to go now!” As if he had heard, Tanjirou gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. I could see Rengoku’s old hilt adorning it and it made me smile for just an instant, only to have that smile fall from my face when a huge snapping sound was heard, followed by tremors. It was short-lived, but the calm that followed felt more dreadful than any screams I had heard until now.

Telling the medics to stay put, I stood up with shaky legs and limped towards the fight I could barely participate in. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me he is not winning, tell me they are fine, they have to be fine,” I repeated to myself under my breath, holding tight onto the wall as I kept walking. “They’re strong, Pillars are-“ I brought a hand to my mouth in shock and fell to my knees seeing the devastation that had been brought on the battlefield. Looking around in panic, I saw that everyone was down, either passed out or dead. I could not know, but assuming they were dead seemed like the best option considering how strong Muzan was. I felt sick to my stomach, but the fire inside me, the one that had managed to be lit by Rengoku’s word was not dying out, even as I breathed out in utter shock, “Dead… the Pillars are dead-“ seeing Muzan walk towards someone, I was about to scream Kanao’s name for her to move when a burst of fire brightened the battlefield once more, this time it was not Sanemi’s concoction or anything as such, no. It was a technique, it was fast and in the blink of an eye, Kanao was dropped on the floor next to me. A healer had joined my side and was in a lesser state of shock than I was, he listened to Tanjirou intently, “Take care of her.” The man that I had left laying on the ground moments ago might end up being the one who turns the tide.

Watching him leave, I tried to find Rengoku’s vibrant haori but could not seem to find it anywhere, my chest was feeling constricted, and my breathing was turning into heaves. Daisuke was the one by my side, he kept glancing my way as he took care of Kanao. It was hopeless trying to find Kyojuro in the midst of the fight, it was too hectic, Muzan’s whips hitting everywhere as everyone tried to fight it off, quick to avoid hits when they could. I heard Daisuke’s shaky voice say my name and looked his way, feeling some relief that he was still alive, thinking he had died with everyone else early in the battle. For a short moment, I remembered the mission we had together and the time spent training with him and could feel myself calm down, even just a little bit. A strained smile made its way to my lips, “You’re alive—that’s good,” I panted, forcing myself to take deep breaths. “I’m not leaving you on your own Captain, you look like you might need some support.” He said with a forced smile, trying to lighten the situation.

“I might end up being the support, seeing how little of use I was here,” I scoffed, keeping to myself the darker words that I wanted to speak. “I will go help the Pillars; I have to do something, anything.” I uttered after calming down, my hands trembling as I got up from the ground and glanced at Daisuke’s determined yet frightened expression as he focused on Kanao’s wounds. I was not allowed to break down, not when everyone was working so hard; slapping my cheeks, I startled my friend who looked at me in confusion. Huffing a dry laugh, I put a hand on his head and grinned, “We will win this, take care of her.” With a nod, I carefully walked around the shambles, making sure to not get seen as I brought the wounded bodies of the Pillars together.

As I did so, I did not have much idea of what was going on, it was an automatic response more than a voluntary action. Mitsuri, Gyomei, Sanemi, Giyuu, they were all passed out. Other medics were taking care of Inosuke and Zenitsu who seemed more responsive than the ones I had in front of me, but I still signaled for people to come with the necessary things. Ordering everyone to do their tasks, I said, “Take care of Mitsuri first-“ “Captain she is-“ I did not want to hear anything, so I snapped at him, my face stern, “Treat her wounds!!” The healer nodded, doing as told. Some were already treating Giyuu’s arm, there was no fixing it back on, but we could cauterize the wound and hope for the best, that was the best play.

A few were treating Sanemi’s wound, he was right next to me as I cleaned Gyomei’s deep cut on his stomach, “For a man who taught us how to take a beating, you do not seem to have heeded those lessons, uh?” I scoffed sadly, looking at his passed-out form, dried blood and fresh one painting his entire body. His left leg had been cut off, the smell of burnt blood and iron entering my nostrils made me sick as I cauterized the cut, but I still smiled, albeit it being somber. “A peg leg would be a fine look on you, perhaps it will give me a chance to take you down this time.” I huffed a laugh, feeling tears welling up in my eyes; I used my sleeve to wipe them away and finished treating his leg before giving him another look as I placed my hand on his cheek, “Just a little bit longer, my friend… We are almost there.” I breathed a laugh through my mouth, my nose stuffed from the tears.

Looking over at Sanemi and Mitsuri, I could see that her wounds were not healing, even with the vials the cat had delivered. “Mitsuri, don’t you die on me,” I chuckled as I knelt beside her, shooing the recruits away as I lifted her head a bit from the ground, trying to wake her up, “I—We will need a painter to follow us on our adventure with Kyojuro, your skills will be greatly appreciated.” I sniffed, brushing my thumb over her cheek, her eyes were devoid of anything, but I saw her smile weakly, “I would like that, very much.” She breathed, making me smile through the tears, a nervous laugh joining the mix. “You could bring Obanai-“

Just as I said so, I could hear the man’s scream in question out on the battlefield. Glancing up, I could see the sun was rising, the Pillars that were by my side, with the exception of Mitsuri, were trying to get up. Gyomei needed the help of recruits to do so, Giyuu was long since back on the battlefield and I could see Sanemi getting up with his scowl back on his features. A rumble was heard, and out of nowhere the crows started cackling for everyone to stop Muzan from finding some shades. I was torn between staying by Mitsuri’s side or going, but her hand made its way to my cheek, and she smiled, “Go, help.” I placed her back down and pulled out my sword, running about to help everyone stop Muzan, tearing down buildings with breathing techniques, some drove cars into the demon that had long since turned into a huge newborn. It was a desperate last attempt; the sun was rising and all we needed to do was hold on for a few more minutes.

The Pillars had used the last of their force on one last attack to keep the demon from digging underground, some were screaming in pain, others as a war cry; it was so loud, the cars, the cries, the thumping of the newborn’s steps on the ground, falling buildings. It was so much, but it kept us going, it was the last push until we could rest. My entire body was howling for me to stop, my lungs were burning, and my arms felt heavier than anything I had ever carried during my training. The tears rolling down my cheeks were those of someone using their last bit of hope, someone who had been so close to giving up finally seeing the light even through the immense pain they were feeling.

Everyone is still fine, we can still win.

And when silence fell, no more awful screams coming from the dying demon, I knew we had won. The efforts had paid off; looking up, the sun was shining bright on the now disintegrating demon. I was facing away from the battle, my eyes glued on how bright the sun was glowing, how great it felt to be bathed in its rays after all of this. As I turned around, bodies were laying on the ground, people were still standing, hugging, happy to be alive. But with one glance around, Gyomei was lying still against a building, tears streaming down his face as a content smile was displayed on his face. “No, no, Gyomei, no…” I whispered as I dropped my sword, stumbling towards him only to see Obanai and Mitsuri hugging each other on the ground before their bodies went limp, their heads resting against one another. “Not this, no, no, no!!” seeing them together made me sob in panic, “Kyojuro—Kyojuro!”

The feeling in my gut made me sick, I could not feel my legs, but I forced them to carry me around the battlefield to catch a glimpse of the bright orange color. I screamed his name louder, getting further away from the people that had gathered around Giyuu and Tanjirou, there was no response. “You said you’d find me no matter what!!” I yelled, my throat feeling dryer and rougher from all the times I had raised my voice in this battle. This could not be happening, I had to find him, he must have been sheltering behind a wall to protect himself, perhaps medics had found him and pulled him aside. “This is me wanting to be found! Find me!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Please, find me…” I repeated, this time my tone barely above a whisper. The strength I had mustered was waning, my steps more sluggish but I kept moving, at each body I encountered, I felt the bile coming up my throat thinking it could be him, thinking he could be the next I’d find.

With how blurry my vision was getting, I was heavily relying on the colors of his hair, of his haori and even his sword. I was familiar with those, having seen them countless times, having observed him all this time when he would train at the mansion. I wanted to return there with him, to hell with fate and what it had planned for us, I needed Kyojuro by my side. The pull in my chest made me ache for him, for his touch, for his reassurance, for his laugh. Now that this fight was over, I could enjoy it plenty without fearing losing him, I could fully imagine a future together. That’s what he wants, so we’ll retire, yes…

Feeling a smile make its way to my face, I also felt my throat tighten when I caught a glimpse of a bright color under the debris. Making my way there, I repeated under my breath over and over, “It’s not him, it’s not him, he is somewhere else, but I have to make sure,” and as I approached, I saw it was just some wood that was burning full flames. Throwing rocks on it to take it out, I let my eyes swipe the area for any other sign of him, that’s when I saw in the corner of my eyes the vibrantly colored hair I knew too well and loved. This time it’s him, he’s surrounded by recruits, they’re treating him, that’s good, I thought as I ran to him, grinning through the tears, my entire being filled with joy.

We made it, both of us, we can—any hope I had crumbled when I saw how panicked the medics were trying to treat his wounds. With a nervous smile on my lips I approached, slower this time, seeing the man I loved drenched in blood, his right leg cut at the knee, huge gaping wounds on his chest, his sword still in hand. That’s fine, he is fine, he’s had worse he—I could not relativize anymore, I could not keep hoping, it was too much, this was too much. Loneliness overwhelmed me suddenly, and even if he told me to live on, I could not imagine a world without him.

My world shut down.

I think I screamed. Was I crying? I don’t know. Pain hit my knees hard as I fell on them by his side, I gripped his hand and forced the sword out of them to hold his hand tight against my chest. “Wake up,” I breathed with a smile, “You can wake up now, it’s over,” I brushed his hair out of the way, strands would always fall out of his hair even when tied back. It would stick to his face because of the sweat, but this time it was blood. “Kyo… my sunshine… Come on, get up.” I tried to have him lift up only to have the medics put him back down and tell me something I could not hear. I placed a kiss on his beaten-up knuckles and huffed a laugh, “You promised we would live in a house by—by a field,” I said through my sobs, my vision blurring from the tears. I could not hear anything except for the loud beating of my heart. My body was still burning, I could not think straight but I could see what was in front of me. “Have you thought of a name for the dog?” I asked, hoping to have an answer but nothing came out of his mouth, his eyes were still shut.

“Please, there is so much more we have to do, please, please, wake up.” I whimpered as I cradled his cold face in my hands and brought my forehead to his, for the first time when I hugged him I did not feel warmth. And only for the second time I had known him was he quiet, and I hated it. Pressing a kiss to his lips, I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, my nose, “I want to dance more with you love, please…” The silence I was met with hurt so much, no physical wound could compare to the ache I was feeling in my chest, in my heart, my head felt like it was about to explode. Was I breathing? How did one breathe? I was heaving, not breathing, breathing is when you want to live, heaving is to survive, I was trying to survive, the pain in my chest felt like I was dying.

He cannot be dead. He cannot.I thought as I leaned back and got lost in his face, his expression peaceful but… it lacked… it lacked life; he was pale, cold. It was impossible, was this reality? If it was I did not want it, I was promised a beautiful life but a life without the brightest sun is but darkness and cold.

My eyes wandered to his sword, I looked at the poppy hilt and frowned at it then at him. I had read about the language of flowers when I was waiting for him to be done upon my return at the estate, it had said it meant dreams, luxury… sacrifice. “You fool, you—you—I said you could be selfish! It did not mean this!!” I wailed, cradling his hand against my chest as I wailed, tears rolling down my cheeks without ever stopping.

I hated this numbness, the quiet surrounding us, it was muffled, it was suffocating, and I could not breathe. My head was spinning, I felt an emptiness in my chest. We had planned so much, he had given me hope, how did he dare do this to me. Even the brightest fire dies out, but I could not live in the darkness it left behind, in the cold it left, the reality it brought after blinding us with such light. I did not want to believe he was gone; I could see mouths moving in front of me, the recruits talking among themselves as they kept treating his wounds, but what for? Through tears of sorrow, I started humming the song he loved and lost myself in it. He was gone…

The realization hit me hard as I thought those words, making me feel numb, not everyone deserves a happy ending.

Maybe I did not deserve one either. Maybe all I was meant to have was that fleeting intense happiness only to have it snatched from me. Tears were streaming down my face at the thought of not sitting on that veranda with him, of not having that future we so desperately dreamt of together. Of not feeling his warm embrace again. Was it that easy to lose the one you loved? Was it that simple to have your heart ripped out of your chest, hopes crushed? Those perfect pictures I had painted in my head were fading, trickling down the canvas as if water had been poured all over the paint. But it was not paint and water, it was reality, ruining the little hope I had allowed myself to believe in. It was painful, I couldn’t keep myself straight as I laid down by his side and stared at him, tucking a hair strand lazily behind his ear.

I couldn’t hear anything from him, from anyone around me, only dead silence. Perhaps I did not want to hear anything. Why would I want to hear them tell me he was dead? The mere thought made me gag. My eyes never left his unmoving body, but I could feel exhaustion take over… My vision was blurring, I could not see anything anymore, was it blurring or turning black? I did not know, I did not want to know, I did not care one bit. I hated it here, I was alone, my closest friends had died, my lover had died, all of this for the greater good. I did not care about the greater good, I cared about having a happy future with those I loved, and it was snatched away from me. I should not have hoped. I was in excruciating pain and for a moment, as I closed my eyes I thought, what if I joined him? The thought did not seem to hurt as much and even felt... nice.

[Part 10/Last part]

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years ago

Text

Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do- Part II

Based on “Skippy’s List,” I have continued “A List of Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do.” I hope you enjoy it. The original can be found here:

https://thelordofdarkreunion.tumblr.com/post/637424500291600384/a-list-of-things-the-scoundrels-are-no-longer

The group known as the Magnificent Scoundrels has gotten a bit out of hand. This list was compiled by Admiral Hackett of the Systems Alliance, Admiral Kelly of the GA, Fleet Admiral Hood of the UNSC, Inquisitor Vail of the Holy Inquisition, Commander Briggs of the Frontier Militia, Princess Leia of the New Republic, and Director Fury of SHIELD in order to curb the Scoundrels’ more dangerous or inappropriate behaviors. These rules apply to all Scoundrels and their teams/crews.

207. Expended ammunition is not a business expense.

208. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to call requesions officers or quartermasters “sugar daddy.”

209. There is no “anti-Shepard conspiracy” within the Scoundrels’ fleet. That’s the Citadel Council’s thing.

210. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to adopt dogs to “sic on the brass.”

211. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to pay Revenant to kill people they don’t like.

212. None of the Scoundrels are The Chosen One. That was Anakin Skywalker.

213. It is wrong to fire warning shots at drivers who do not recognize your right of way.

214. Reading is not “for officers only.”

215. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to ask anyone who outranks them if they’ve been smoking crack.

216. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn their starship command rooms into throne rooms. Especially with tacky carpets.

217. We are not making clones out of any of you. You are all hard enough to deal with as is.

218. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal any massive, mobile space stations or star fortresses, which include but are not limited to:

- The Rock

-The Phalanx

-The Citadel

-High Charity

-Cloud City

219. Thomas Drake is not allowed to crash economies “because it’s fun.”

220. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to assign nicknames to anyone.

221. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make chain guns that fire miniature nukes

222. The weapons specialists of the Apocalypse are no longer allowed to collaborate with the engineers of the Normandy or Enterprise, and Quill is to give up the nuke chain gun.

[I will not! How can you stop me? I have a chain gun that fires nukes!]

223. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to wake up superior officers with cymbals

224. Napalm Sticks to Kids is not a motivational song.

225. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to quote bastardized versions of Dr. Seuss rhymes on military operations.

226. Command decisions do not need to be ratified by a ⅔ majority.

227. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to line their helmets with tin foil to “block out the space mind control lasers.”

228. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start any SITREP (Situation Report) with “I recently had an experience I just had to write you about…”

229. Do not attempt to take the gas masks off of Death Korps troopers.

230. Rodents are not entitled to burial with full military honors, even if they are “casualties of war.”

231. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mock command decisions in front of the press.

232. You should not speculate on the penis size of anyone who outranks you. Especially if they’re in earshot.

233. You cannot arrest children for being rude.

234. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create new, made-up government forms, then insist they be filled out.

235. No one is allowed to perform “lap dances” in uniform.

236. Past lives have absolutely no effect on the chain of command.

237. Cain is technically allowed to kill any of you if he finds reason to, so stop pissing him off.

238. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to defect to other military service branches during training missions.

239. Your race is not “other” on official documents.

240. There is no Scoundrels ethics committee. And if there was, Thomas Drake would not be chairman.

241. Chainsaws are not the answer to every question. Nor is “more chainsaws.” Or “chainsaw cannons.” Except for that one time, and yes, it was awesome.

242. Stop posting classified information on social media.

243. Adam Vir is no longer allowed to play “Hippocratic Oath chicken” with Dr. Kril.

244. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to cook nerve gas in the sink.

245. There is no “annoy” setting on a phaser.

246. A wet towel is not an improvised weapon. Unless you’re Master Chief. There’s a reason the Covenant calls him “The Demon.”

247. I know you all have passes, but if the gun can’t fit through the x-ray machine, it doesn’t go on the plane.

248. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download Internet Explorer into the Geth hivemind or the Martian noosphere.

249. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to demand payment in liquor, backrubs, or bubble wrap.

250. Any Exterminatus-grade weapon is not “my little friend.”

251. Airlocks do not double as waste disposals.

252. No member of the Scoundrels or their crews are a pagan god or goddess of fertility.

253. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to learn profanities in any language that can bend reality.

254. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal their own souls.

255. There is not a Space Marine Chapter whose heraldry is a smiley face.

256. The following weapons are no longer allowed as dueling choices: steamrollers, nerve gas, land mines, or heavy artillery.

257. Shepard is no longer allowed to drive or pilot anything.

258. Han Solo is no longer allowed to attempt any piloting maneuver in which the original inventor was killed doing.

259. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play The Only Thing They Fear is You every time a super soldier enters the battlefield.

260. In formal introductions to nobility, you are not allowed to introduce your companions as “the other guys.”

261. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to monologue.

262. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to do anything that would make a Sith Lord cry.

263. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to get telepaths to hurry up the speeches of long winded politicians.

264. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hand over annoying reporters to any organization that could be considered a theocracy.

265. If a black op requires you to impersonate an employee, you are not allowed to bill the target for overtime.

266. By definition, chaplains cannot be atheist.

267. The proper response to the question “Why?” is not “Why not?”

268. It is assumed that a properly trained Titan Pilot knows what at least one of the buttons in the Titan’s cockpit does, and it is wrong for Cooper to pretend otherwise.

269. At the end of a high profile assassination mission, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play disco music on the target’s phone.

270. The Scoundrels cannot hear the soundtrack.

271. Thermonuclear hand grenades do not exist, and the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to try and make them.

272. I assure all of the Scoundrels with absolute certainty that Ralph is not a traditional Japanese name.

273. None of the Scoundrels are from Margaritaville.

274. Hawaiian shirts are not part of any of our governments’ formal uniforms.

275. Master Chief is not allowed to record Gravemind ASMR.

276. The Scoundrels are not allowed to write tell-all books about anything.

277. “Legends never die!” is not a valid excuse.

278. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to think of new, creative, or fun uses for cursed artifacts.

279. Check the door means listen to see if there’s any activity on the other side, not put multiple rounds through it.

280. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give wasabi to unsuspecting aliens.

281. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to do anything they saw Jackie Chan do.

282. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to implement any battle plan that includes the words “and hope they miss a lot.”

283. There is an upper limit to the number of people a bullet can go through.

284. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to unionize the Unggoy.

285. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hack forge world PA systems so they only play Allentown.

286. Sarcasm is wasted on Imperial Stormtroopers.

287. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to upload porn to the HUDs of their commanding officers.

288. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download porn from the HUDs of their commanding officers.

289. No matter how tough the battle, the Scoundrels are to keep the congratulatory ass-slapping to a minimum.

290. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to invade Germany on August 31, 1939 and thus secure Belgian dominion over Europe.

291. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to Tokyo drift tanks

292. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to “catch air” in military vehicles.

293. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to send anything to the past, future, or alternate dimensions.

294. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mount speakers on tanks to play Ghost Division as they drive into battle.

295. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to post memetic hazards on the internet.

296. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to bind eldritch dieties to their will and make them mow the lawn.

297. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to load weapons with all tracer rounds

298. If your personal weapon can be read with a Geiger counter, you aren’t allowed to have it.

299. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn Khornite daemon worlds into self supporting blood banks.

300. “Pimp my Death Star” is not a real show, and we are not bringing Grand Moff Tarkin back from the dead to host it.

301. Prussian Glory March is not a disco song.

302. We know that Shepard was brought back from the dead by Cerberus, but no matter how high profile or how close a friend, the Scoundrels are not allowed to ask Cerberus, the Adeptus Mechanicus, or, god forbid, Fabius Bile to bring anyone or anything back from the dead.

303. Any weapon that can be set to “flay” is strictly forbidden.

304. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sing the Oompa Loompa song every time someone annoying dies.

305. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to store squeeze tubes of explosive putty in medicine cabinets.

306. On most planets, shoulder holsters are frowned upon as casual attire.

307. Zero body count does not mean just the ones they can find.

308. Walmart is not a one stop shopping place for hunting demons.

309. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play football/soccer with AT-ST or Sentinel walkers.

310. None of you are currently parents, but if you ever become one, Trazyn the Infinite is not to be named your child’s godfather.

311. You know what, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to name any of the following as godparents of any potential children:

-The God-Emperor of Mankind

- Emperor Palpatine

- Councilor Sparatus

- Leman Russ [Bjorn said it was OK so fuck you.]

- Kahless the Unforgettable

- Kuben Blisk

- Kharn the Betrayer

312. Searching a building means entering it, not leveling it with artillery and digging through the rubble.

313. FedEx does not deliver to Tatooine.

314. None of the Scoundrels are allowed to single-handedly make Starfleet Academy the number one party school in the universe.

315. Covering fire does not include nuclear weapons.

316. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to challenge anyone to a dance-off to the death.

317. Kirk, rifts in the time-space continuum are not for your personal amusement.

318. Blowing up the top twenty floors of a building is not a “diversion.”

319. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to convince Sith Lords to use Force lighting on their welding projects.

320. Canadian is not a real language, and you can’t set your translators to it.

321. There is no such thing as a were-saxophonist.

322. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell new personnel that starship windows can be rolled down.

323. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start wars between major weapons corporations, especially “because I’m bored.”

324. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to clear enemy underground bunker complexes just using Bangalore torpedoes.

325. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to order a lance of Imperial Knights to perform synchronized dance numbers.

326. The Scoundrels are to leave out human mating rituals when presenting cultural exchanges to alien ambassadors.

327. When raiding enemy corporations or terrorist organizations, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to look at the target’s HR files to see if they have better benefits.

328. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to collect autographs.

329. Any buttocks belonging to the Scoundrels or any of their crews are permanently forbidden from making contact with any copy machine.

330. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go FTL to avoid red lights.

331. “Just throw them out the airlock” is not a backup first contact protocol.

332. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use the Enterprise’s transporters to fill enemy starships with jello.

333. None of the Scoundrels are the patron saints of large explosions.

334. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make, accept, or take rake-offs on bets concerning X-class end-of-the-universe scenarios.

335. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go on PA systems and announce they just won The Game. Goddammit.

336. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to trick Captain Marvel and Cato Sicarius any superheroes or super soldiers they deem “annoying” into fighting each other.

337. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sell tickets to or organize cage matches between prominent super soldiers.

338. Lockpicking and door breaching are two entirely different things.

339. Performing obscene acts while in the cockpit of or piloting large combat mechs is strictly prohibited.

340. Freeing slaves out of justice is good. Out of spite, not so much.

341. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to compose offensive emails during stealth operations on the target CEO’s email and subsequently CC the entire company.

342. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to recreate the Charge of the Light Brigade with the Death Riders of Krieg.

343. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use telepaths to get out of speeding tickets.

344. The state-controlled news service of the Imperium of Man most definitely does not have a liberal bias.

345. Likewise, the state-controlled news service of the United Federation of Planets does not have a conservative bias.

346. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to kidnap Ewoks or Volus and put them in hamster wheels.

347. Adam Vir is to, by order of Supreme Grand Master Azrael of the Dark Angels, return the Watchers in the Dark he took from The Rock as pets.

348. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to spend the entirety of their bonus pay on lottery tickets.

349. The very concept of a Hutt lap dancer will earn a surprise visit from the Deathwatch.

350. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use grenade launchers to play bocce ball.

351. If you are unsure of which side of the road you are supposed to drive on, the middle of the road is not a healthy compromise.

352. No matter how cool it would be, the Scoundrels are not allowed to use any time machine to loan General Eisenhower a squadron of X-wings for D-Day.

353. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to program medical droids for “aggressive dentistry.”

354. The Scoundrels are to stop trying to get a reality TV show based on themselves.

355. Garrus Valkarian is not “on loan” to the Vindicare Temple to improve either his or their sniping skills.

356. Pointing out a massive plothole in any bad guy’s plan will not stop them from attacking you.

357. Preliminary nuclear bombardment is not automatically Plan A.

358. Maverick and Tope are not tax exempt for being chaplains.

359. Thomas Drake is to stop teaching classes to the rest of the Scoundrels on tax evasion.

360. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refit tanks with jump jets.

361. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create their own currencies.

362. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to set Jawas on fire with a massive magnifying glass.

363. The Stanley Cup does not have the same power as the Holy Grail. Not even on Canadians.

364. The Scoundrels are not allowed to steal the Stanley Cup.

365. The Eldar really hate it when you greet them with “Live long and prosper.”

366. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give pre-teen children their phone numbers, especially when they are on black ops.

367. You cannot partake in the sport of fencing with a broadsword.

368. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to switch nationalities or service branches for tax purposes.

369. None of the Scoundrels are “He who must not be named only in passing.”

370. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to shoot at natural disasters.

Well, there it is. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you would like to add to the list, feel free!

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

AU where the Nie clan has dragon blood in their lineage, and usually it just manifests as bad temper and a generally martial inclination. Except, once in a rare while, generations apart, an actual dragon will be born among them... (aka nobody really expected that NHS was the latest Nie dragon).

The Nie sect’s ancestors were butchers; that lowly heritage is well known and widely celebrated, much to the not-entirely-concealed disdain of some of the more refined, gentlemanly sects. Butchers at home and butchers at war – everyone knows that.

What’s rather less well known is that the third sect leader, colloquially known among his descendants as ‘that idiot’, rather heroically saved an imperial princess in battle and then – and this was why he was that idiot – married her. She was a proper princess, too, the true-born daughter of the emperor; other sects might see that as a good thing, since for all that cultivation sects saw themselves as being above petty things like the politics of the common folk, a princess was still a princess.

The Nie did not.

The reason for this was quite simple. What does a cultivation style that already incorporates an increased chance of death through anger most assuredly does not need?

The blood of the eight-clawed dragon, that’s what.

Arrogant, explosive, unruly –

It was a mess.

The sixth sect leader came up with the saber halls to honor his father and grandfather – most especially his grandfather, who’d had a bad tendency towards slit-pupiled eyes when he’d been especially enraged, and whose saber had absorbed every ounce of his ferocity – and the next few generations made a point of finding especially meek daughters or sons for their children to marry, and that was that; everyone hoped that that idiot’s mistake could be diluted out of existence.

It was, for the most part.

But every few generations, imperial blood ran true, and not only in terms of majesty or arrogance, and then the entire sect had to close its doors to the outside world and pretend with all their might that no, of course there wasn’t a rampaging beast of an especially draconic variety raging behind the extremely sturdy walls of the Unclean Realm, what nonsense that would be.

Still, if Lao Nie had to wager on one of his children being a dragon, he probably would have put money on it being his firstborn: already far too tall for his age, a brilliant prodigy with his saber, and a temper that rivaled some of the older members of the clan.

Certainly not Huaisang.

The only time that child hadn’t been a disappointment was when he was a baby: he’d been remarkably lazy even back then, sleeping more hours of the day than he didn’t even past infancy, and what had been a relief to his nursemaids quickly turned to annoyance by everyone else. It was commonly believed that such a weak and unlively child was likely to grow up to be slow-witted and dull, and, worse, the doctors confirmed his muscle tone was underdeveloped; even with a great deal of practice, he would likely always be a bit behind those his own age.

As he grew older, his penchant of sleeping twenty hours out of every day got even more noticeable, and the family largely lost interest.

Well, most of them. His older brother, who’d quietly taken on the responsibility for caring for Huaisang when no one else in the family had had the time or, truthfully, the interest in the disappointing son of an especially fortunate (unfortunate?) family maid-turned-concubine, indulged him far too much, even carrying him from place to place.

“You’re not a mule, Mingjue,” Lao Nie scolded one day, reinforcing the lesson through swipes of the flat of his saber. “Have some dignity! If Huaisang wants to go places, he can damn well walk there himself!”

Nie Mingjue bowed his head, obedient and filial in every way except for the fact that he didn’t listen; if anything, it got even worse from that point on, the boy barely being seen anywhere without a napping toddler as an accoutrement.

“Did you hear what I said?” Lao Nie roared at him.

“I’m not a mule,” Nie Mingjue recited. “If he wants to go places, he can walk there himself.”

“If you heard me and persisted regardless, you’re undisciplined,” Lao Nie said, arms crossed.

“I accept whatever punishment is appropriate,” Nie Mingjue said, and that was most irritating of all: why would his otherwise perfect eldest son insisted on being beaten once a week when all he had to do was leave that useless lump behind in his rooms, where he’d be happier anyway? It wasn’t as though Nie Huaisang even wanted to be outside: sometimes it seemed he’d only learned to talk in order to complain about how uncomfortable he was, how hot, how sweaty – and he even had the gall to keep complaining even after his older brother fetched a fan for him, like a loyal dog.

Discipline was paramount in the Nie sect; to be undisciplined is to risk being monstrous, and with their cultivation style they could not tolerate such a thing. That was why their punishments were so strict, even if the rules were relatively sparse - more principle than rule, really. But on the other hand, their family had always been the sort that would rather break than bend: if Nie Mingjue wanted to pay for his willfulness by accepting punishments, he was entitled to do so.

Still – there was punishment, and there was wanton cruelty; at some point, one of the men in the punishment hall abandoned the former for the latter. He was a popular man, the son of another sect’s diplomat that had married a close cousin of the main family and stayed in Qinghe; for some reason he’d developed an intense dislike of Nie Mingjue – a dislike which was mutual, and likely to cause trouble in the future when Nie MIngjue became Sect Leader, but which currently put Nie MIngjue in a very bad position given the man’s status as his elder.

Lao Nie only learned about the whole matter much later, and when he did he was so spitting mad he grabbed his saber and would have spitted the man on it, cousin or no cousin, if he hadn’t been held back; but at the time he had no idea, busy as he was defending the borders of his lands against troubles caused by that ever-smiling bastard Wen Ruohan.

When he did hear about it, though, he was infuriated: his son and heir had been beaten three times the usual amount, a compilation of a thousand little offenses that could only technically be termed breaches of discipline, forced to complete several dozen of their most demanding exercises, and then made to kneel outside on the hottest day of the year; to no one’s surprise, he had eventually collapsed rather than yield and beg for mercy, his skin cracking and lips starting to bleed as his consciousness left him.

He was after all a Nie.

Who knows how far that bastard might have gone, his eyes fixed on a prize he would never inherit with his outsider’s surname, if Nie Huaisang hadn’t been there, tucked away curled up underneath a shady tree and made to watch despite Nie Mingjue’s request that he be sent back to his rooms.

Those who were near enough to see – and Lao Nie had plans to punish the whole lot of them for not having interfered: what was the point of a clan motto that prioritized justice and suppression of evil no matter what the consequences if they would allow it to happen in their own damn home? – said that it didn’t happen at once, that there was a pause when Nie Mingjue’s body hit the ground; perhaps it was only that Nie Huaisang was slow to realized what was happening.

Perhaps it just took a while for the change to happen.

Either way, everyone agreed on what happened next: the unfurling of a serpentine body twice the length of a fully grown man, although only about as wide around as a goat, a red-eyed glare that was backed with teeth and claw, and a roar of challenge at anyone who even thought about pulling Nie Mingjue’s body away from the center of those coils.

Apparently Nie Huaisang had needed all that sleep because he was still growing. Who would have known?

It was the youngest full transformation they’d ever had in their clan by far. The boy hadn’t even reached the age of three!

“If he’s stopped sweating, he has heatstroke,” Lao Nie told his apparently not useless younger son, having been urgently summoned to the training field. “He needs to be taken inside at once; you’re only making things worse.”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth at him, and Lao Nie bared his teeth right back.

He might not be a dragon, but his son’s blood had come from somewhere.

“I am your father,” he snarled. “You will listen to me and obey. You hear me? You will get off of him this instant. If he doesn’t get water soon, he will die.”

Lao Nie will never know if it was the demand for filial piety or the threat to Nie Mingjue’s life that got Nie Huaisang to comply – he suspected the latter – but Nie Huaisang gave in and backed off, allowing the clan’s medics to rush over and take Nie Mingjue away.

Lao Nie looked at the dragon, thinking to himself that the vastness of the underground caverns beneath the Unclean Realm weren’t for nothing: if this was what a two-year-old dragon looked like, he’d be a full-fledged calamity when full grown.

His saber itched in his palm at the thought, but he ignored it. The embarrassing yao-derived portion of their bloodline aside, the Nie sect set itself against evil, and Nie Huaisang was lazy, not evil.

“This is going to be trouble,” he finally said. “It can’t be allowed to get out.”

You can’t go out, he meant, but maybe Nie Huaisang in all his laziness wouldn’t mind being restricted to the Unclean Realm. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could teach him to like paintings and books instead, since he could never be allowed out to join a proper battlefield.

He’d be locked at home forever, unless the Sect Leader decided otherwise - and that meant Lao Nie would be the one responsible for it.

Ancestor or not, damn that idiot.

In the end, Nie Huaisang didn’t respond to him at all, merely took to the air – flying must be inherent, since he didn’t seem especially bothered by what should be something brand new – and headed inwards, aiming towards…

His brother’s bedroom.

Not really a surprise, that.

A bit of a surprise that he could find it so quickly, though, from such an unfamiliar angle…

Lao Nie’s eye twitched.

If his stubborn older son had known about this, he was going to wish he’d died of heatstroke.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #dragons #oneiriad #not my usual backstory for the Nie sect #but hey #gotta have those dragons #dragon nhs

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thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 4 years ago

Text

Folk Songs (Weiss Schnee builds a home in the aftermath)

She asks Winter if she ever wonders why Atlas is named the way it is. Surely, naming a floating city after someone who was almost always pinned to the ground by the weight of the world would have been a mistake. Icarus, she muses, if it were up to her, she would have named it Icarus.

(Icarus flew and Icarus fell. Icarus, a slave to his own ambitions)

“Is that who you feel like?” Winter asks. “Atlas?”

It’s an honest question put to someone who has spent significant time carrying the family name around, by someone who handed it over when she grew too tall for it. Weiss shrugs.

“It’s not that deep,” she says.

Winter responds to that by patting her back. “Isn’t it, though?” she says, pushing a hand so Weiss straightens her posture. Weiss is sure the movement is unconscious, instinctual. Then Winter moves her hand to adjust the collar of the shirt she’s wearing, and lets her hand rest on Weiss’ shoulder for the rest of the conversation. Neither of them mentions it.

*****

She’s sitting at the piano when Ruby plops down next to her. “Teach me,” Ruby says, hitting a couple of disjointed notes.

Weiss, who is prone to losing her bearings when Ruby is near, plays a couple of notes in response. It’s supposed to be a tiny jingle, but she messes it up.

“I can’t play very well,” she, who has been trained to play the piano, the cello, and the violin since the age of five, says without a pause. Then she balls up her fists, because what she meant to say instead is — I can’t play very well when you’re around. Actually, I can’t do a lot of things very well when you’re around, Ruby.

(Blake and Yang need to come up with their combined manual on love soon. And when they do, she hopes there will be a section titled How to talk to girls you’ve kissed and sworn eternal devotion to but because there was a war going on neither of you ever sat down to define your relationship and now you don’t know what to do with your hands when she’s near. It can be a long section; she doesn’t mind as long as it gives her clear instructions.)

Ruby presses at a note. “What’s this?”

“An F.”

Another one. “This?”

“Either a C sharp or a D flat.”

Ruby stares hard at the piano, and Weiss entertains the crazy thought of kissing her frown away. She’s done it before — on sleepless nights, on ravaged battlefields, as a mark of comfort and of quiet, painful adoration. It’s damning how easy it is to bend to Ruby; every cell in her body calls out a primordial cry for her. How could she, mountain of carefully sculpted indifference, bow this effortlessly to fire?

(Her father, if she deigned to give him the time of day, would probably mutter something about how she’s a disgrace to the Schnee name, and she would disagree. What she feels in her heart for Ruby is nothing short of a miracle.)

“Here,” she says, pressing the notes in order, slowly so she’s sure Ruby can follow. “If you want to play a basic chord, you could just hold down C, E, and G notes together. That’s C major.”

“Like this?”

“No, that’s….to the right. No, not that,” she pauses, brings up her own hand to press over Ruby’s and guide her. It isn’t until Weiss glances up once and sees the mischievous smile on her face that she realizes.

“Oh!” she says, her hands retreating to her lap.

“I’m sorry if I—“, Ruby starts, sounding guilty, and Weiss turns to her, quick as a whip.

“No!” she says, then realizes they’re both almost nose to nose. “Don’t — don’t be sorry, please.”

“Did you not like that?” Ruby asks, her voice soft.

Weiss laughs, and the sound seems nervous to her own ears. “No, I,” she says, “I liked it.”

Ruby’s answering smile is sunlight through her windows in the morning, gradual in its brightness until it’s too much to bear. Weiss shifts, rests her forehead on Ruby’s shirt clad shoulder. The fabric smells a little like detergent and a lot like Ruby’s fruity perfume.

“You know,” she says, her voice half muffled by the shirt. She knows Ruby can hear her though. “I can never look you right in the eye when I talk to you. It feels — feels too much like burning up.”

Ruby shakes: Weiss can almost see her laughing. “Do you know how you can never look me right in the eye when you talk to me? That’s when I get to stare at you. You talk and talk and I just keep looking at your pretty face.”

The sound that comes out of her throat at Ruby’s halting admission is a mixture of acute embarrassment, disbelief, and delight.

“I used to wait two hours for you to come back from your missions with Blake and Nora so we could eat together.”

She feels Ruby press a kiss to her temple. “I used to stay up until 2 am because that was the only time I could be alone with you.”

“I can’t sit next to you,” Weiss tells her, “it’s like there’s this thing between our arms — this—”

“—electricity,” Ruby completes, and slides her fingers through Weiss. Weiss closes her eyes from her very comfortable position and feels Ruby’s lips on her knuckles, soft, careful. When Ruby removes her hand, she feels the loss as acutely as something has been ripped out of her soul. Another random note rings out in the silence.

“Go out on a date with me.” Nowhere in the statement is a demand, or a presumption, just quiet assurance. “Weiss,” Ruby says, when she still doesn’t answer. “Go out on a date with me, please.”

Weiss nudges aside the collar of her shirt and kisses her neck. Then she leans back to look at Ruby.

“What if you don’t like me after we go on the date?”

The question is delivered with just enough amusement, but behind it lies real distress. What if this only works because we’ve been thrown together all these years fighting a weary battle? What if you only think you like me because you haven’t seen the rest of me yet? What if, when you see the rest of the world and start spending time with other people, you realize I’m not up to all that you’ve built up in your head?

“If I don’t like you after we go on that date, then you have my blessing to blast me into space with your Arma Gigas.”

“Ruby—”

“In what world,” Ruby cuts in smoothly, “do you imagine I wouldn’t like you back? In what world does my stomach not twist when you walk into the room, or my breathing not falter when you talk? I have heard a million voices in my lifetime, Weiss, but in what world is yours not the only one I want my heart to cut itself on?”

“Stop,” she says, face burning, eyes closed, “Ruby, you — just, stop talking, I’m going to—”

“Weiss,” Ruby says. “Go out on a date with me.”

Not that the answer is needed, but Weiss nods anyways.

*****

Whitley is equal parts familiar and foreign. There’s the same bristling stance, the Schnee stamp prominent upon his features, his hair, still parted the same side as she would see back when they were children running around in their estate. What’s different is the thinly veiled animosity in his eyes, the angry twist to his mouth.

“You can’t just come in here,” he starts, waving a hand to wipe away the holographic design for SDC office headquarters Weiss has just pulled up, “and start ordering me around.”

“Whit,” she says, watching as he flinches at the old nickname. “I’m not ordering you around. I couldn’t. You’re the expert here—”

“—yeah, I am. The heir who stayed, remember?”

She is reminded, of a game of hide and seek on a Sunday a long time ago. Whitley had hidden himself so well that Weiss couldn’t find him even after wandering all around the estate. And then when Winter had come back from training, she’d abandoned the pursuit, running off to interrogate her sister instead.

You didn’t find me, Whitley had come running, crying after ten minutes, distraught. You and Winter, and — he’d paused to take in a wet shuddering breath too big for his ten-year-old body — you and Winter forgot about me. And she’d known, even then, that what he was protesting was being left alone when they were together.

“I do know a little bit of this, Whit,” she says, mildly. “I can help.”

“I don’t need your help!” he tells her, sharply.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Weiss says, “but we’re the last of Schnees, if you don’t count mom, and we should stick together. I’m not saying I know everything, but I have been training half my life for this, so I could contribute.”

“I’d rather,” he starts, then cuts off abruptly. I’d rather die, she completes in her head, and waits patiently for him to continue. He looks away. “So much for sticking together.”

She reaches out and pats the top of his head. He swivels away violently.

“You — stop, you, you don’t get to do that.”

“Actually, I do,” she replies smoothly, “I happen to be one of your sisters. Not historically a very good one, but I’m what you’ve got, so you’re going to have to make do.”

When Whitley speaks, every time Whitley speaks, all she hears is his ten-year-old version screaming You left me at her, upset and sulking. While Winter made sure Weiss was able to defend herself if she wasn’t around to do that for her, when opportunity to leave Atlas had arisen, Weiss herself had run off, too relieved about the freedom to worry too much about her brother.

He glares at her. “I’m guessing you’ll want something?” he says, flippantly. “The position of the CFO? A seat in the Board of Directors, maybe?”

“Not exactly,” she says, smiling as she messes up his hair one last time before she exits the room. “Dinner every Tuesday and Saturday evening. 7 pm. I’ll see you in two days.”

“Wha — what?” she hears him ask from behind. “What are you — no! I’m not doing…. Weiss!”

*****

When Weiss goes to pick Ruby up for their date, she’s greeted by the entirety of Mantle and Atlas instead.

“We’re not that many people, please,” Blake says, before she joins Yang at the door. “Oh. Oh wow.”

“Do I — does this look, okay?” Weiss asks, smoothing the front of her dress nervously. She didn’t quite trust Jaune’s choice in dresses, but this was what Oscar, Robyn and Winter had collectively agreed on: a midnight blue slinky…. thing that didn’t quite reach her knees and was making her feel very awkward.

Yang’s jaw is still open, her head moving back and forth between Blake and her. Blake closes it for her.

“Okay?” Nora calls out, as Weiss enters the house further. “Girl, if Ruby doesn’t get down on her knees at the end of the night, I’ll give away all of my wealth to the good children of Mantle.”

“Nora!” you say, scandalized, the same time that Yang screams Ew.

“What? I didn’t mean it that way,” she says. “But don’t you think it’s interesting how both of you jumped to….”

Ren covers her mouth with his hand, smiles wryly at the rest of them.

“Also,” Emerald points out, poking her head out from behind the fridge. “Doesn’t Nora have like, five lien to her name?”

And that will not go to the good children of Mantle tonight, comes through in the muffled voice of a still incapacitated Nora. Weiss walks around the room, trying to calm her nerves. She doesn’t want to walk too fast and sweat through, or rip something, but there’s this electric charge festering under her skin everywhere, and no amount of balling up and releasing her own fists seems to help. She tries to take a deep breath, discovers her lungs aren’t ready for it yet.

“Hey,” Blake’s already at her side, one hand gently resting on her abdomen, the other on her back. “Breathe. Breathe with me, Weiss.”

She focuses on Blake’s steady voice, on the numbers she counts out, and slowly her breathing evens out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“Please,” Yang says easily, “you should’ve seen Blake after I kissed her the first time. She nearly passed out.”

“That’s because you weren’t wearing clothes!” Blake shoots back, defensively.

“Oh yeah,” Yang says, staring off into space. “Wait, why wasn’t I wearing clothes?”

“Can I just say,” Ren said, looking pained, “how much I do not want to hear this story.”

“I’m okay now,” Weiss says. “Also, why aren’t you guys helping Ruby get ready?”

“You think I need help getting ready?” Ruby’s voice rings out from behind her, and Weiss turns, and

(Had she just thought that she was okay? Because she’d never been more wrong in her life.)

The sight of Ruby, standing near the door rips the breath from her lungs so fast she’s left reeling. It imprints itself upon her memory, a postcard polaroid for the end of all her days, and Weiss wonders where to look. Surely she’s not allowed to look at Ruby directly — isn’t it illegal to look upon angels? She wants to shield her eye, hide her face, wants to turn and run away because she’s sure there’s a world out there where she’s worthy of holding Ruby’s hand and walk beside her, but this can’t be it.

“What?” she says, stupidly, when she realizes Ruby had asked her something but for the life of her can’t remember what it was.

“I — nothing,” Ruby says, walking forward. “Weiss. You look….”

She trails off into silence, until Emerald says — Yo, can I get in on that bet you were talking about earlier — and gets shushed loudly.

(Weiss wants to warn her against it. She’s convinced she’s going to be the one getting down on her knees and proposing marriage at the end of the evening)

*****

Life moves on. Weiss holds Ruby’s hands in hers, and watches autumn turn to winter. Whitley smiles at her on their fifth dinner date, and then, to make up for it, turns down all her proposals for the next two. Sun and Neptune come to visit, and Yang spends the entire time doing pushups ominously in full view of both Blake and Sun, to the former’s amusement and the latter’s bemusement. Oscar goes on his first date with a girl from Mantle, and discovers at the end of the night that Jaune, Ren, Nora and Emerald had been following them the entire time. Qrow makes a half-hearted attempt at warning her of the consequences of breaking Ruby’s heart, and when Whitley and Winter discover that, they kidnap Ruby for half a day. Ruby refuses to tell her what happened, but she also refuses to kiss her in public the whole next week.

Weiss decides to move out of the Schnee estate when she finds a tiny apartment in Mantle, a building over from where Blake, Yang and Ruby have theirs. There’s a lot of light and her favorite spot in the entire place is a corner where the previous family had marked the heights of their three children, apparently named Lee, August and Celia. Ruby draws a line next to it, names it Weiss’ patience level for the day and marks it at random points, depending on her mood. Her mother gifts her flower plants, and subsequently, vases, when Jaune breaks the few that Weiss already had.

The first night, when they’re all exhausted from the multiple trips up and down the stairs and are all crashed in the living room, Ruby finds her outside on the balcony. Weiss knows as soon as she enters through the door — Ruby’s presence carries trough the air — but she only looks back when there’s a red cloak wrapped around her from behind. She feels familiar arms wrap across her stomach and leans back.

“Miss home?”

“This is home now,” Weiss replies, and is surprised to find that the thought does make her a little sad, regardless. “But yes, I do.”

She’s going to miss living with Whitley and her mother, will miss sleepovers when Winter comes down to visit. All the loneliness in the world wrapped up in one large house, and it still stings to leave it behind.

“You know, I heard Robyn’s place isn’t too far from here,” Ruby says. “And if Robyn isn’t far, then—”

“—Winter isn’t too far.”

“—and Whitley and Oscar are already planning a video game session here next Friday.”

Weiss arches back, and kisses Ruby on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for, my darling?”

“For,” she flounders for an explanation that sounds normal. Thank you for loving me, while accurate, isn’t a very healthy sentiment to express, “for keeping me warm, always.”

Ruby chuckles against her cheek. “Okay.”

“And Ruby?” she asks. “I know this is the first time I’ve moved out on my own, and I need to build my own life here, and I will. But. In a while — maybe….”

Ruby hums to let her know she’s waiting.

“I’m just saying, that there’s. I mean — I’ve left half my closet empty. So, if, in a while, you ever want to. I just want you to know that I want to build a life with you.”

“Weiss Schnee,” Ruby says, and even with her eyes closed Weiss can hear the smile in her words. “If in a while, you want to share your closet space with me, then it would be my greatest honor.”

*****

She knows Ruby’s up even before she’s completely conscious.

It’s the little things — the fact that Ruby’s arm isn’t weighing on her shoulder, that her leg isn’t slung over her thighs. Weiss blinks, and turns over in bed, concerned.

Ruby stares back at her, wide-eyed.

“Can’t sleep?” Weiss whispers.

Ruby shakes her head slowly. There’s something in her expression that has Weiss worried. It’s not that she thinks they’re in any danger at the moment, but there’s some unsettling thought going on behind those beautiful eyes.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you watch that movie,” she says, but Ruby shakes her head once again. “What? No ghosts scaring you?”

Ruby opens her mouth, clears her throat once. “Only the human kind,” she says.

“Hey,” Weiss asks, bringing up a hand to brush the hair off her forehead, “sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Does this still bother you?” Ruby asks her in return, her hand sliding under Weiss’ shirt to expose the scar Cinder had left behind when she had impaled her. Weiss looks down, struggles to make out the tiny line in the dark. She wants to ask another question, but at this rate they’ll be stuck in an eternal loop and she does want Ruby to get some sleep, because she tends to lose her appetite if she doesn’t.

“Sometimes,” she says. Then she smoothens out a tiny crease that’s formed between Ruby’s eyebrows. “You want to tell me what you’re thinking?

“I didn’t see her do it,” Ruby starts, after a while. “Cinder, I mean. I only turned when you fell and I. Weiss.”

“Ruby,” she says, pressing her forehead against Ruby, kissing her once. “Stop.”

“—no, I. And then I left to fight. I left you with Jaune and Ren and Nora, but I still left, and every day I think about it, every single day, I think about you lying on the ground, the blood spreading on your dress, and if Jaune hadn’t been there—”

“—but Jaune was there!” Weiss tells her, not knowing what to say to make it better. Ruby is in so much distress; her voice is in shreds, and there’s a tear making its way across her face. “I’m fine. I’m safe.”

“I’d have killed her,” Ruby says, simply, her voice raw. “I would have killed her. I should have.”

“Ruby, no.”

“If you’d — if something had happened to you,” Ruby says, pausing, frustrated. Her eyes are closed tight, more tears squeezing out of them by the second, and Weiss tips forward to kiss one away. I’m safe, she says. You’re safe. We’re all safe. Ruby, Ruby, Ruby. We’re safe, she says, as she kisses her temple, her rumpled up hair, the bridge of her nose, and she has no idea how or when her words turn into I love yous in her mouth. I love you, Ruby, she repeats over and over, wanting to imprint the words on Ruby’s skin, wanting to tattoo her kisses on her cheek so the mark never fades, so she’ll never forget, I love you so much. And it’s easy in the thin light of the moon, to pull out the words from where she’s been hiding them, keeping them safe her entire life. There’s a moon in the sky and Weiss loves Ruby. There’s a garden blooming in the balcony and Weiss loves Ruby. For as much as love threatens to bring about her end, Weiss loves Ruby, and that love is both the beginning and the never-ending middle to her story.

*****

Tell me about what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, Ruby asks her, laughing, one morning over breakfast, and Weiss tells her there is destruction, but also that love is born in the carnage.

“Our hearts are but collateral damage, my love,” Weiss says. “But my heart, regardless of the damage it bears, is yours to do with as you please.”

*****

Robyn builds a school in Mantle.

No, that comes later. This comes first: Weiss grows tired of sitting in an office. She loves Whitley, but if she has to design one more plan, or take one more call talking to people about dust, she will kill herself.

Actually, wait. That comes second. This is what comes first.

Weiss grows tired of fighting.

*****

“My name,” she says, knowing from the whispering going on in the rows, that the information she is about to share is redundant anyway, but formalities are important, “is Weiss Schnee, and in this class we will be learning Grimm Studies.”

She’s pretty sure she hears someone whisper Hero of Mantle somewhere in the back rows, but ignores it, in favor of writing a couple things on the board. She jots down the curriculum and a brief lesson plan, acutely conscious of whether the clothes she’d had Ruby pick out for her this morning were appropriate class attire. The tie with dogs on it wasn’t something she could have helped, anyway, since she’d lost a bet with Emerald a while back. After she’s done, she turns around and asks the class if they have any questions.

“I have one,” comes a voice from the door, and Weiss closes her eyes. Of course. Of course they would come. “Miss. Schnee,” Yang continues, jumping on top of a desk in front of what seems to be a very impressed student, “when will the kids be divided into teams?”

There’s a lot more pointing, whispering and an abundance of awed looks going on in the class now.

“That is not something the students need to be worried about right now,” she answers, evenly.

“Actually, jumping off of Yang’s very astute question,” Jaune chimes in, “will each team also have a leader?”

She’s going to kill them she’s going to kill them she’s going to kill them

“Yes,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Awesome!” Blake adds, brightly. “But, in the event that they do not like their leader, and think their leader is an incompetent idiot, what can they do?”

Nora and Ren titter from their place at the very back. And from where she’s sitting between them, feet kicked up onto her desk, as casual as she had been all those years ago at Beacon, Ruby smiles, and raises her hand.

“I’d like to know the answer to that myself,” Ruby says.

She takes in a deep breath, summons the Arma Gigas. Has him sit just behind her.

“Now,” she says in what’s her best attempt at authority, “not only will I not be answering any of those questions, but also, unfortunately, question time is over for the entire class. If that thing I have summoned behind me is scaring you, please do not worry, I will make sure it only stands up when one of the six idiots sitting amongst you say something stupid.”

“Okay so,” she says, then takes it all in. Thinks back to years and years ago, when she’d been one of the students sitting in a similar classroom in an academy, miles away, next to people who’d end up meaning more to her than she ever imagined. After all the years of fighting and bleeding, here they were, trying to do something to make the world a better place.

This is not a tale that ends in tragedy, she thinks, and starts talking.

#rwby #weiss x ruby #whiterose #fanfiction #rwby fanfiction #another weiss schnee character study because guess what - she's actually my most favorite character ever #Also there's the usual found family feels #ah idk i finished this in the afternoon because i couldn't sleep but since it was prime naptime - there may be mistakes #you have now been warned #anyways - i hope you guys like it :)

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