#I promise I’m only somewhat hostile | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

outstandingblue · 1 year

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Promises to Keep

Nine - Soft Spot and Watching Eyes

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

Jiniraa starts sharing her world with the Recoms and Miles keeps finding his eyes drawn to her.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: none wc: 6.2k (and i thought last chapter was long)

“You want us to do what?”

“Put down your weapons and sit on the ground,” Jiniraa replied to Ja, “I’m really not asking for much.”

“What so we can braid each other’s hair and gossip about our crushes at school?” Lyle snickered back, elbowing Prager to have him join the joke.

“You want that?” Mansk mumbled under his breath. Jiniraa made it a point to ignore all of their snide comments.

Miles was apprehensive about the method of instruction Jiniraa chose to teach the Recoms the Na’vi way through. They were used to training beyond exhaustion, pushing the body and mind to its absolute limits. They were not used to sitting around in a kumbaya circle.

Jiniraa crossed her arms, “I learned your way with your methods, now you will learn mine. Sit down. Now.”

Her tone was becoming increasingly more hostile, annoyed at the defiance she was facing. The group seemed to notice.

Lyle was the first to respond, holding his hands in the air in mock surrender, “alright, alright princess. No need to yell.”

Jiniraa’s ears flattened as she bared her teeth, “don’t call me princess. Just sit your asses down.”

The Recoms looked around, silently asking each other if they actually were going through with this. Were they actually going to surrender the weapons? Lay them down on the ground as they sat around, unprotected, in the most hostile place they’d ever been? The place they died fifteen years prior? Hell no.

They had navigated further into the forest, away from the clearing they were dropped off in. The noise of the chopper would’ve signaled to any hostiles in the region of their exact location. If the Omaticaya - or other Na’vi - had any scouts in the area, they would be drawn right to the clearing. For the sake of the team, they pushed deeper into the forest.

Every time there was the slightest noise, the Recoms would freeze and draw their guns. As for Spider and Jiniraa, they were back in their element, almost smiling at every little breaking branch or brush of wind.

Lyle had been calling Jiniraa a “god-damned tree-hugger” in his head the entire trek, growling every time he got hit in the head with a vine he should’ve cut down with ease. Five minutes into their move, Jiniraa scolded both him and Prager from using their machetes on the thick undergrowth. He tried to fight back, but the Colonel shot him a deadly look. He was supposed to listen to Jiniraa. The insects were starting to get to him as well; they didn’t bother anyone else, only Lyle. Z-Dog said it was because he smelled like shit.

So - Lyle was in less than a favorable mood when Jiniraa asked him to sit in a circle.

Everyone was on edge, flashes from that day were fresh in their memories. The drop of bodies as arrows flew from hidden perches. The sound of mud under their boots. The yelling and screaming of orders. They were picked off one by one, not knowing who would be the next victim of the forest.

Based on the Colonel’s meticulous time-keeping, the eclipse would be upon them in just over two hours. The team needed to settle before the eclipse; they have a tendency to become trigger-happy morons when pushed too close to the edge. Jiniraa’s overall peaceful persona was somewhat putting everyone at ease, but it wasn’t enough.

Miles had somewhat expected her to bolt with Spider the moment they touched down. She thought so too, but resisted the urge. Maybe the trackers and threats were enough to keep them in line.

Jiniraa stopped waiting for the Recoms to follow her instructions, allowing her legs to fold under herself as she was lowered into the soft embrace of the forest. Serenity was coursing through her veins as she sat, waiting for everyone to follow. A variety of faces stared back at her.

Annoyance from Lyle, but she already knew about that one; his frustration was evident even through the sunglasses. Apprehension from Prager, lips pressed together. Mild disgust from Ja - his boots sunk into mud a while back. Curiosity from Zdinarsk, she seemed to be the only one mildly intrigued by the other woman’s proposition. Irritation from Lopez - he’d almost tripped over three oversized roots in the past twenty minutes. Mansk was unreadable, as usual, a stone face behind his dark shades.

One by one, everyone turned to the Colonel, looking for their commanding officer to provide direction. He stared back at them and glanced at Jiniraa, “would you just sit down and quit your yappin’?”

No one moved, so he pursed his lips together and continued, “I’ll keep watch. Just listen to what she says.”

He didn’t wait for any objections, turning on his heel and circling the perimeter. He was just out of eyesight, but kept within earshot for security reasons. Jiniraa felt a ping within her heart, secretly disappointed that Miles wouldn’t see the forest for the first time like everyone else.

The Recoms all sat down, slinging their weapons across their laps. They knew Jiniraa wanted them to put their weapons down on the ground, but they wouldn’t let their weapons get too far out of their reach. They kept their hands trained at the ready in case something, or someone, decided to approach the group. They would be ready within a moment’s notice, back on their feet and ready to defend their territory if need be.

“I want everyone to close your eyes,” Jiniraa began, looking around the circle they formed, “just trust me, okay? Take in the sounds around you. Listen to everything. You’re not scanning for threats, you’re trying to feel the embrace of the forest

“Can you hear the stream in the distance? Hear the mother viperwolf caring for her young? Do you feel the breeze pushing through the canopy? Can you smell the sweet nectar of the fruit, just a hundred paces away?

“Think about what you feel around you - the soft ground, the residual wetness from a recent storm. Feel the pulse of the Great Mother. Feel her web of connectivity. See it in your mind.”

As Jiniraa finished her speech, she allowed them to be alone with their own emotions in silence, processing the world around them. They all went through a series of emotions. Mansk was the first to follow her direction to close his eyes, not that anyone would know. Lyle was the last, muttering his tree-hugger insult once more. They all felt incredibly stupid as they sat there.

“When you’re ready, open your eyes. Take all the time you need. The forest will still be here. My ancestors saw these trees as we do today. My grandchildren’s children will walk the same path we did today. The forest will persevere.”

Prager was the first to open his eyes, remaining silent as he gazed towards the largest trees. Lyle was the last, actually finding a single moment of peace in nature.

Jiniraa recognized the astonishmemt spread through the Recoms, pride spreading in her chest as they just a quick glimpse of her beautiful home. Under the guise of teaching them ‘how to Na’vi,’ as Miles so eloquently described it, she planted seeds of respect for the forest, regardless if it was genuine or not.

Together, Jiniraa and Spider introduced the unit to the different flora throughout the forest, focusing on what plants were edible, medical, and straight-up poisonous.

Miles would circle around every few minutes, checking in with everyone before disappearing back into the tree line. He watched from afar as Jiniraa introduced the unit to Pandora; his ears strained and attempted to listen to the conversation.

Although his hearing was drastically improved in this new body, it wasn’t enough to hear the way he laughed at Lyle when Spider convinced the Corporal to stick his nose in a well-known allergen flower. Lyle didn’t stop sneezing for five minutes.

Miles didn’t have a choice, he needed to stay on tour for the sake of his unit. They would be able to focus on Jiniraa if he was on watch. He was supposed to ease their anxieties, but man, he desperately wanted to be part of that group right now.

●●●

“Colonel to Wainfleet,” Lyle pressed his fingers to his throat. He swatted at the insects that continued to assault and bother him, attracted to the sweat that pooled around his neck.

“Go ahead Lyle.”

“What’s your pos? Startin’ to get dark,” Lyle was doing a good job hiding the anxiety under a rougher-than-usual voice, but Miles heard right through it. He’s known everyone long enough to know their little ticks.

“Rotating back now. We’ll group up and wait out the eclipse.” Miles turned away from the winding plant he’d been inspecting, allowing the vine to fall as he turned and made a bee-line back.

He found Jiniraa smiling, practically glowing (even without her bioluminescent dots) while being back in the forest. Spider was next to her, a mirrored look on his face. She seemed to have forgotten about the earlier incidents in the training center and on the tarmac. It was all washed away. Good, Miles thought to himself.

“Oh! Miles! Look at this - it’s a yovo. You have to try it!” She jumped across the clearing to approach the Colonel, who stared back wide-eyed at her. He had watched her fall over her own feet walking on flat ground in the RDA facility, but here? She was maneuvering around raised roots, thick vines, and oversized leaves with ease, moving like a fish in water.

Jiniraa practically shoved the small purple ball into his hands, smiling eye to eye. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to try it. Looking past Jiniraa’s bubbling form, everyone else had uneaten fruit in their hands as well.

Miles raised an eyebrow, a small smirk pulling at his cheek, “is this your attempt to poison us?”

She didn’t reply, only grabbing the fruit from his hand and taking a small bite. Only enough to prove the fruit was in fact edible, leaving the rest for him to enjoy. She maintained eye contact as she bit down, jutting her head forward to keep the dribbling juices from falling down her front. She wiped the excess juice that pooled on her chin with the back of her hand, pushing the fruit back into the Colonel’s hands.

He shrugged and took a tentative bite. Now - he had a feeling it would taste good, but not this good. He had to suppress the moan that pushed through his throat when the sweetness touched his lips.

The food at Bridgehead wasn’t the best - hell, it was basically a military chow line. Filled with rehydrated food and ‘nutritional’ paste. Calories were all that mattered. Being edible and enjoyable were secondary thoughts. But this thing was just sitting in the forest waiting to be eaten? He could’ve been enjoying this food the whole time?

Jiniraa’s eyes were wide, a little slack-jawed waiting for his official review of the fruit.

“Now, that is fucking delicious,” Miles choked out, mouth full of a second bite. Jiniraa squealed in pleasure, spinning around to see everyone else take their first bites as well.

In unison, the team took their first bites of Pandoran fruit in union, sharing in the euphoria that spread throughout their entire bodies once the fruit touched their tongues.

This was the food they were supposed to be eating. Not the slop served at Bridgehead. No wonder Jiniraa refused to eat, only taking the bare minimum when Miles threatened to force feed her. Growing up on stuff like this? It was cruel to try and eat the gray shit they called nutritional down.

Miles gave everyone a minute to enjoy their snack before he ordered them to circle up. The first signs of the eclipse were beginning. Within five minutes, they would be plunged into total darkness for about an hour.

Jiniraa and Spider didn’t seem too fazed by the unit's movement around them. Jiniraa perched herself on a fallen log near the outskirts of the circle, laying on her side and letting her eyes close, lulled by the sounds of the forest.

Spider sat hear his friends’ head, fiddling with elongated blades of grass. He’d braid and unbraid, repeating the process until the strands were falling apart. It was a feeble attempt to dissuade anyone from trying to converse with him.

“We holding position here, boss?” Lyle spoke up.

“Yeah. We’ll wait for the eclipse to pass then be on the move again.” Miles responded, checking his watch, “we have a little more than four hours until the transport will be back to pick us up. Today is a test run, tryna see how those two will work with us. They seemed to pass the test, not creating too much of a problem.”

Lyle hummed in acknowledgement, not expecting the Colonel to continue, “we’ll get longer stints of off-base time from here on out. If everything goes well the rest of the day.”

Lyle nodded curtly, pushing his shades onto his forehead once the treeline was too hard to see in the dark. The entire unit was on edge, flinching at every little sound that came from deep in the forest. Jiniraa’s tail kept brushing against a nearby bush; at first it was an accident, but she turned it into a game once she realized how it affected everyone.

After the umpteenth brush of her appendage against the bush, Miles clenched his teeth in annoyance, “could you keep that damn tail of yours under control? I’ll cut it off if you don’t stop.”

It was probably an empty threat, Jiniraa knew that, but there was a small part of her that feared he wasn’t lying. Regardless, Jiniraa didn’t open her eyes, only waiving a dismissive hand in his direction. She flexed her tail harder on purpose, making more noise than before. He huffed, making her raise her brow bone, but her eyes remained closed as she responded.

“Your dogs should calm down. Enjoy the forest a little.” She shifted onto her back. Her bioluminescent freckles were in full swing, framing her face. Miles' eyes traced down her sternum and stomach, watching them disappear under the waistband of her pants.

“And take a nap like you are?” Jiniraa could imagine what the Colonel looked like right now: standing with a cocked hip and a hand on his belt or upper vest. She wasn’t too far off from reality. Only thing - she didn’t think his eyes would be raking over her resting figure, trying to remember the location of every single dot that graced her skin.

“I’m awake,” Jiniraa muttered. The conversation faded away, going silent for upwards of an hour. Spider watched the unit communicate through their hand signals, but no verbal communication came from the Recoms.

Jiniraa would shift her position every once and a way, flipping from one side to the other trying to get comfortable. Every time she moved, she unknowingly pulled the Colonel’s attention, eyes darting to her resting form. He assumed based on her steady rise and fall of her chest that she had fallen asleep.

Eclipse came and went without any notable occurrences. Once the darkness fully receded and light prevailed, there was a collective sigh of relief. Jiniraa remained laying across the fallen log, moving her forearm across closed eyes when light interrupted her rest.

“Alright, let’s keep moving. We have a little more than three hours before our transport is here. You two, get up.” Miles ordered everyone around.

Spider jumped from the log and Jiniraa followed shortly after, stretching her limbs and rubbing the rest of her eyes. She didn’t let herself completely succumb to the desire to sleep. It made it harder to refocus herself in the present, suspending herself between conscious and unconscious for too long. As much as she wanted to just sleep, she couldn’t leave Spider alone like that.

Once Jiniraa was on her feet Miles continued, “we’re moving. I want us to go north and then circle to the rendezvous point. Let’s go.”

They moved at an unrelenting pace. It made it difficult for Spider to keep up; he may have grown up in the forest and knew how to maneuver the terrain better than any Deja Blue member, but his shorter and weaker limbs made it impossible to keep up.

They continued pushing through the brush for an hour without pause. Jiniraa was panting, desperately needing to break for water. She refused to ask the group to slow down. They already thought she was weak and fragile - she wouldn’t prove them right. For her own pride, she couldn’t prove them right.

Neither Jiniraa or Spider recognized their exact location - it was a tactical decision, disorienting the prisoners to discourage them from an escape attempt. The quick pace didn’t allow them to try and figure out their location.

The sound of a waterfall could be heard in the distance, growing louder as they continued. Jiniraa wouldn’t ask the Colonel, but she secretly hoped they would head there. In reality, the Colonel hadn’t planned on going towards the waterfall. He saw it on the aerial map when he first surveyed their location, but something inside him pulled his body closer.

There also was the pair trailing behind, he knew they were both growing tired. They were lagging further back than he was comfortable with. Lopez was at the rear of the group, forced to hang further and further back to keep the pair in front of him.

Jiniraa attempted to cover up her burnt out induced lagging by brushing her hands against overhanging plants. Even though it burned, she forced her body to push forward and scold Lyle every time he reached for his machete, the leaves and insects and mud were really starting to get to him.

She flicked his shoulder, “do you not listen? Put the knife away. There is no need to kill the forest for your personal path.”

Exasperated, Lyle turned to the Colonel with wide crazy eyes, hoping he’d come to his defense. He didn’t. However, he made a motion for Jiniraa to walk with him.

Smirking down at her Miles murmured, his words were nice at first, but his mocking tone said otherwise. “You doin’ okay? You seem a little sweaty. Can’t hang with the big boys?”

Jiniraa smiled back up at him, baring her fangs more than necessary, “oh, I’m doing just fine.”

He raised his eyebrows, knowing she was lying and desperately needed a breath. Miles glanced back at the unit, they were starting to show signs of fatigue as well. A quick glance at the datapad showed the waterfall was less than two kilometers away. They just needed to veer a little off the intended path.

Miles softly elbowed Jiniraa, “hang in there, sweetheart.”

She averted her eyes, training them on the ground rather than making eye contact. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.

Jiniraa just about collapsed when they finally reached the waterfall’s basin. Hands on her knees, she listened to the Colonel.

“Alright! We got twenty before turning and heading back. Rest up,” he clapped his hands together twice, letting everyone be at ease.

Jiniraa was already standing in ankle deep water before Miles finished his announcement. Spider was moving behind her, kicking water in her direction.

Jiniraa gasped, a playful smile on her face, “you little shit.” She laughed, pulling the bottom of her pants up as she sent water in Spider’s direction. They continued splashing each other, moving deeper into the water. Spider eventually bit off more than he could chew and slipped back, making a splash as he fell under the water.

Jiniraa laughed, trudging in his direction and pulled him back to his feet. Spider wouldn’t look her in the eyes, embarrassed by his trip, but he did laugh as he moved back to the shore.

Miles was waiting, watching from a rock when Spider approached, “kid, you look like a drowned cat.”

Spider flipped him off. Jiniraa shook her head, following Spider back to shore. Jiniraa climbed along the Colonel silently. Miles raised an eyebrow as she sat next to him.

“Thank you.”

Miles held back a laugh, “what’re you thankin’ me for?”

“You didn’t have to head here. You said you wanted us to go north. We’ve been drifting east for a while.”

Miles didn’t think anyone would’ve caught onto that. He replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

HIs slight smirk said otherwise. He didn’t come to the waterfall just for Jiniraa and Spider, but also for his team. And himself, just a little selfishly. They needed to create new memories in the forest. That way they won’t just remember the night that half of Project Phoenix met their untimely end.

“What’re you doin’?” Miles watched Jiniraa unclipping the green waist bag, setting it down behind her before slipping down on the rock they sat on. She stood an arms length away from Miles, pausing a moment before untying her pants from around her waist.

Miles' eyes widened as he looked around. He had no clue what was going on in her mind. His heart was racing just a little more than normal, “hey what do you think-”

“I’m going for a swim. Chill out.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she slipped her pants off, neatly folding them next to the waist bag. Miles watched out of the corner of his eye, focusing on every move of her body. He tried to recall the placement of her dots, imagining how they’d look right now.

Her bottoms were unlike other Na’vi bottoms he’d seen. She didn’t have the modesty panel that others did - hers seemed more like bikini bottoms than anything else. The snug bottoms had beading across the waistline, matching the colors of her top.

Big green eyes were staring at the Colonel, pulling him from his trance, “what.”

Miles scoffed, “nothing,” he turned his attention back down to the data pad until she was walking in the water. His eyes were drawn to a star-shaped patch of light blue on the outside of her leg, a healed scar. He recognized the shape, it obviously was a bullet wound. She’d been shot at some point, right into the hip. It started making sense - the way she favored the right leg when fighting, her reaction when he gripped her ankle and tugged, the way her eyes widened when she fell a certain way. It all must’ve agitated an incorrectly healed wound.

Jiniraa pushed herself under the water. Sure, she’d been forced to use the showers at the RDA satellite facility, but it was nothing like submerging yourself under the cool embrace of water. It was an initial shock to her system, but her body quickly adapted.

She watched as Spider scaled a large boulder before calling out, “‘Niraa, you watching?”

Jiniraa treaded in the water, keeping her head above the surface with ease, “I’m watching, go ahead.”

Spider took a running start before leaping off the boulder and doing a flip, flinging his body towards the water. He made a splash, luckily landing feet first. It wasn’t a pretty sight when Spider first attempted flips into the water. Jiniraa had to apply soothing salves to welting, angry red skin for countless nights.

When Spider reemerged from the water, Jiniraa had a smile across her face, clipping and cheering at the kid’s skill improvement.

The ruckus caught the attention of everyone sitting on the shore. None of them would even take off their boots, knowing they needed to be ready within a moment’s notice. Sure they could rest for a little, but that didn’t mean they could let their guard down.

Prager was the first to speak up, a sad whisper under his breath, “I miss cannonballs.”

Z-Dog laughed obnoxiously, trying to imagine Prager doing a cannonball, “yeah, I’m sure your fat ass could make one hell of a splash.”

Prager held an offended, gloved hand at the tattooed woman, he argued back, “a cannonball is a matter of skill.”

Zdinarsk snorted, throwing her head back. They started arguing back and forth, annoying everyone to no end. Miles wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up, but it was nice seeing them acting normal. Since their transition to their new bodies, it has been weird between everyone. Miles couldn’t find the words to describe it - people would try and keep their familiar bonds from before, but technically they weren’t the same people from before.

Sure they had the memories from their human predecessors, but the second they opened their eyes and formed a thought in Na’vi-based brains didn’t that mean they diverged from their human personas? Human Colonel Quaritch never would have diverged from the mission to take a pit stop at a waterfall simply out of enjoyment, yet Avatar Miles did. The longer he was in this body, the more he didn’t feel like the Quaritch. He felt like Miles. A new person.

Even as humans, the group threaded the line of personal and professional on a daily basis. They knew when to be serious - when to snap to attention or when they pushed their COs officers buttons enough, but they cared for eachother like a family. When forced into life or death situations on a daily basis, it is hard to differentiate between a person protecting you because it's their job or because they see you as family. It’s impossible to differentiate between protectiveness because of duty and protectiveness stemming from love.

That thought wasn’t on Miles’ as he watched Jiniraa and Spider interact. Spider obviously looked up to Jiniraa, bonded from years of living together. Jiniraa looked out for the human as one of her own. Any onlooker could discern the care they felt for each other.

Miles cupped his hands together, yelling over the splashing, “you two got five minutes! I want you back on the shore in five.”

Jiniraa yelled back, “it has not been fifteen minutes!”

“I don’t give a shit. Five minutes.” They tried to enjoy their final few minutes of semi-freedom before Miles called back out, huge hands beckoning them back to the shore line. As Jiniraa exited the water, she rang the excess water out of her hair. The long strands clung to her skin, waves more defined from the dampness.

Miles couldn’t help but appreciate the way her body moved as she exited the water. The curve of her waist. The way her miniscule clothing was fused to her skin, wet and sticking. The way her hair worked down her back. The way the muscle beneath her skin shifted with each step, covered by a thin layer of flesh, making her bulkier than the regular Na’vi. It made her look more human.

Now, don’t get it twisted. Miles wasn’t finding her attractive, certainly not. Objectively, she had an attractive body. Nothing more, nothing less.

Miles cleared his throat as Jiniraa slipped her pants back up her legs, “get your shit together. We’re going.”

Lyle circled his hand in the air, “Oscar Mike, let’s go.”

The trek back to the rendezvous point seemed shorter than the journey to the waterfall. There was a new pep in Jiniraa’s step. She was bouncing through the forest, jumping from branches long enough to sustain her weight.

“Blue One to transport,” the unfamiliar voice was right next to her head.. She actually forgot about the comm in her ear, jumping when she heard a voice through it.

Miles responded, “this is Blue One.”

“We’re ten minutes out. Be ready for extraction. Over.”

The group circled around, watching and waiting from the treeline. When the engines were heard, Miles turned and pointed at Jiniraa and Spider, “we’re not getting a touch-down pick up like earlier. We’re using lines. Spider, you’re with Lyle. Sweetheart, you’re with me.”

He didn’t wait for the objection that was already building in Jiniraa’s throat before stalking towards her. Standing chest to chest he looked down at her. Her hair was completely dry at this point, defined waves resting against soft skin. Resting against her collarbone. Not that Miles noticed - absolutely not.

“I could throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes or we can do this the easy way.” He waited for her to process. She didn’t say anything, only reaching her arms up, waiting for Miles to grab her. He smirked, not expecting her to give in that easily.

He bent down slightly, slipping his rifle across his back as she wrapped his arms around his neck. Returning to his full height with Jiniraa in his arms, he turned around as she secured her legs around his waist, ankles hooking behind them. Their chests were pressed together. She buried her face down, trying to escape the rotating blades as they grew louder, beginning to hurt her sensitive ears. He tightened his hold on her, momentarily flashing back to her reaction on the tarmac earlier.

Jiniraa’s voice was almost too quiet to hear. If she wasn’t pressed into his neck, Miles wouldn’t have heard it, “don’t drop me.”

Her breath was soft against the shell of his ear. A small voice, truly scared. He had one arm under the backs of her thighs. Subconsciously, he dug his fingers into her soft flesh at their situation and her breathy voice.

Spider and Lyle negotiated a different course of action. Spider clung to Lyle’s neck, but on his back. Neither of them said anything and Jiniraa laughed at their awkwardness. They wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone.

Miles tilted his head down into the woman’s ears, “hey, legs tighter, I need both hands for a second.”

Jiniraa squeezed her thighs, holding herself against Miles’ torso as he secured the grappling hook to his belt. He moved his left hand against her back while the right gave a thumbs up to the line operator.

“Jesus, woman, squeezin’ the air outta me. Ease up a little,” Miles choked out. He tried not to think about how easily she was holding herself against him. Muscular legs kept his diaphragm from working correctly. Tried. It was hard not to think as she clung further to his body, seeking a semblance of comfort the moment his boots left the ground. His hand ghosted down from her back and under her thighs once again.

Inside the transport, Miles let Jiniraa down gently, hands lingering her back a little longer than necessary. It was a closed carrier, unlike the helicopter from earlier. They wouldn’t be able to hang out and watch the sky transition into night, much to Jiniraa’s dismay.

Once she was steady on her own feet, she thanked Miles with a small smile and he jutted his head behind her, motioning to the seats lining the bulkhead, “take a seat. We got a long ride back.”

Jiniraa nodded, pushing Spider in front of her, “mask still good?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve asked today. Yes, it’s good.”

She held her hands in mock surrender, “just checking, just checking.”

Jiniraa saw Mansk move towards the row of seats after packing his Hydra back into its carrying case. She fully expected a repeat of the seating arrangement to Bridgehead. He had that plan as well. Maybe he’d actually be able to get some rest, unbothered by the insistent bickering between Lopez, Ja, and Z-Dog that persisted from the cannonball debate.

Miles shattered the plan, taking a quick step in front of Mansk and bee-lining towards Jiniraa and Spider. He sat down with an overexaggerated exhale, hanging Jiniraa a regulator, “mask on. Kid, this is a human atmosphere now. You can take yours off.”

Jiniraa held her breath as Spider broke the seal of his mask, never getting used to the sound. She pulled a fruit from her bag, offering it to the kid. He wasn’t able to enjoy the messy fruit earlier, unable to take his mask off long enough. Spider thanked Jinira, crossing his legs as he showed down to the sweet and juicy food.

Knowing Spider was okay, Jiniraa let her head fall backwards against the bulkhead. She was exhausted from the day’s excursion, drifting off to sleep quickly. At some point, her head rolled onto Miles’ shoulder, an attempt to get comfortable in her unconscious state. Miles went still as stone, tentatively breathing so he wouldn’t wake her.

●●●

Miles stared down at Jiniraa’s sleeping form, the memory fresh in his mind. Three weeks had passed since the first time Spider and Jiniraa went outside on a trek. The General was true to her word, each trip was longer and longer. They were returning from their first four-day trip, the longest one thus far.

Jiniraa was exhausted, falling asleep the moment she sat down. She didn’t even have the forethought to slip her mask over her head, trusting that someone else would do it for her. Miles did, everytime.

Over the past month, Miles had seen a drastic change in Jiniraa. She was seamlessly blending into the folds of the Recom unit, sharing her knowledge. He started to grow a soft spot for the woman, watching over her and making sure she stayed out of harm's way. The first time a viperwolf came near them? He thought about burning the entire forest down if necessary to keep her safe.

When the transport touched down, he could see Spider move to wake the woman sitting between them. The Colonel hissed an empty threat to the human. Miles swiftly slipped from his seat, managing to keep Jiniraa asleep. He unbuckled her lap belt and lifted her into his arms, mirroring how they always entered the carrier on the lines.

She was completely limp against him, but one hand was gripped to his vest. She roused in her sleep as Miles slid his hands for a better grip. He paused, letting her settle back down.

The loading dock opened and revealed Bridgehead City, basked in darkness. Project Phoenix returned their base of operations to Bridgehead indefinitely. Here, the unit had apartments, a space of their own. A stark contrast to the RDA satellite facility where they lived in a storage room converted into barrack-style living. Bunk beds. No one liked the bunks.

General Ardmore planned to immerse the captives into the folds of the team, assigning each of them to their own quarters within the Recom’s wing. They weren’t able to leave without the clearance of another member, but it showed a little bit of trust on their behalf. Give them a little in hopes they’d be more helpful to the greater mission at hand.

Miles navigated through the halls of the housing distinct, eyes trained straight ahead. He’d grown used to the curious eyes that watched as he moved through the long corridors. This wasn’t the first time he moved with a sleeping Jiniraa in his arms. No matter how many times people saw it, they would still stare.

Miles was lagging a little behind the rest of the unit. He needed to be slow enough to not wake Jiniraa up. He didn’t step out of the way when humans approached, refraining from hissing down at them.

He pressed the button on Jiniraa’s assigned quarters, located directly across from his own. He’d been in here before, making it easy to navigate in the semi-darkness. He laid her down on the bed, gently unwrapping her arms from his neck before unclipping the bag from her waist. The bag he arranged for her to get all those weeks ago.

After she physically attacked her over her destroyed bag, he wanted to make it right. Even though he hadn’t been the one to physically cut the bag, he still felt responsible for the loss. He bribed Lyle to keep the secret gift between the two of them. Settling the bag on a nearby table, Miles made his way out of the room.

Jiniraa shifted in her sleep, whimpering slightly. The sound forced Miles to stop in his tracks. Whimpers amplified in his flicking ears. He contemplated his next actions. He could continue moving out the room and pretend he never heard anything. She wouldn’t know. Or he could turn around and see what caused her sleepy whine. He chose the latter.

Jiniraa was writhing slightly in her sleep, brow bone furrowed into a deep scowl. Eyes clenched shut. Miles silently made his way back to her, watching as her hands reached for something. Someone.

His brain wasn’t in charge of his actions and he suddenly found his hand outstretched, laying against her temple. Soft fingers brushed the hair off her face and neck - it seemed to soothe her a bit. He traced the dots that outlined her face, completely mesmerized.

Miles jumped a little as Jiniraa’s hand reached out, brushing against the material of his fatigues. She was reaching out for warmth and he was willing to provide it. Just because he was willing to provide it doesn’t mean he could act on those desires. With one final brush of his fingers over her cheek, he forced his body to turn and let Jiniraa return to her whimpering. The noises were a punch to the gut, but he’s dealt with worse. He’d be fine. She’d be fine.

Standing in the doorway, he whispered to himself, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Her eyes opened slightly, watching a retreating form disappear.

Next: Ten - Breathe, Please

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synthetictorii · 7 months

Text

Don't Worry ✧ Aizawa Shōta

Pairing: Eraserhead/Aizawa Shōta x reader Genre: angst/comfort Summary: Anxiety is keeping you awake and Shōta can’t sleep alone. Word count: 2.5k A/N: ...obligatory old and cringey fic ahead warning...

Gentle breeze was blowing through the night, ruffling your hair. Your sleepwear didn’t stand a chance against the freezing chill of the night but it kept you grounded. You mind never managed to stray far from reality, always harshly chased from the impossibilities by another cold blow. The wind’s hostile embrace was soothing in a way. Besides, how could you be disturbed by something so trivial as cold when there was perfectly clear starry sky above you? Each star was shining bright just like a diamond.

It was a magical night, silent and peaceful. No traffic, no voices on the streets. As if everyone except you was asleep. Standing on the balcony, you felt like a queen of this serene world. And as with every monarch, while everything was enveloped with calmness, your mind certainly was not. It was replaying memories in an endless loop, occasionally throwing in some of your deepest fears. This mix of unpleasantness made you anxious enough to make you restless, unable to fall asleep. You’d toss and turn pointlessly. There was nothing you could do but hope the feeling will soon fade away or that your body will get so exhausted it will ignore your inner turmoil. The chill of the night at least helped to keep you somewhat sane. Before your situation could come to an end, however, you heard quiet footsteps. Another lone wanderer in the silent night.

So he found you, you smiled to yourself. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist; a little warning before his full weight dropped on you gently. You didn’t understand how he did it but he always noticed without a fail when you were absent from his side. He always came looking for you and then he’d lean against you. It was his way to assure himself you were really there. Even if he was heavy you were grateful for the silly gesture. It made you feel loved. Today it was yet another things to soothe you.

“Come to bed,” he grumbled into your hair. You removed one of your hands from the railing to put it on top of his.

“I’ll come soon darling, I promise,” you were stroking his forearm slowly. You knew how worried he got when you were not near when he woke up. A quiet hum was his only response. He was enjoying your touch. You knew even without his affirmation. He was a strange man – quiet and sometimes distant; all in the name of saving energy. But he was soft inside – that much was clear to you, and he needed reassurance as much as you did.

For a while everything was quiet again, his breathing barely noticeable. You weren’t sure if he was asleep or not, neither of the possibilities would surprise you. You wouldn’t mind. He needed his sleep after all his hard work. Teaching at UA during the day, patrolling the streets at night… no wonder he needed to utilize every free minute to sleep. Suddenly he let out a yawn.

“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked, still groggy.

“I’m just thinking about stuff, don’t worry,” you answered more calmly than you actually felt, squeezing his hand lightly. You knew he would continue asking until he figured out what the problem was but still hoped that tonight he’d just let it go.

“Is it about the morning?” he turned his face so his voice wouldn’t be muffled by your hair anymore. To your surprise there wasn’t even a hint of annoyance in it like you suspected would be the case. You let the silence answer in your place. He exhaled deeply and turned both of you around. Now he was leaning on the railing with his back and you lying against his chest, looking into his black, very tired eyes. It never ceased to fascinate you how agile he was even only half awake.

Truth to be told, this morning was probably the final trigger that caused all this. You’ve felt your anxiety getting worse for about a while now and you knew Shōta noticed. You assured him it was alright, he let it be then since it wasn’t as bad as to interfere with your everyday life and you promised him you’ll take care of yourself. He trusted you to deal with your issues on your own, if you could. Should you need help, you knew you could reach out to him. It was another reason you loved him – the way you could trust him to be your safety net.

Then he didn’t come home last night. He didn’t even send you a text and you were not able to reach his phone. You broke down, anxiety taking the better of you. Instead of trying to call his colleagues, you spent the whole night crying, walking in circles aimlessly and watching the hands on the clock moving minute at a time, feeling your sanity slipping away.

Around six in the morning he finally showed up to get ready for work. You had a huge fight – although he apologized and explained the situation to you: he had been so exhausted he doubted he would make it home without passing out so he stayed over at Hizashi’s place. Simple enough. Not the first time it happened. But today it didn’t calm your anger.

Nonetheless, he had to leave for work. So your distress was fuelled with uncertainty about his feelings and what would happen next. You had a chance to cool your head at least and realize you overreacted. Still, you needed closure – more throughout than a quick apology on both sides before bed as was the case today. He always comes home so late, so exhausted. You swallowed your emotions and dropped it – after all, it was all good. His health and rest was more important to you. Due to that, your guilt had time to rest and grow deeper which only made you feel worse. This is exactly why you always tried to talk things through under any circumstances.

“I’m so sorry, Shōta,” you cupped his cheek, stirring in his hold, “I shouldn’t have taken my stress out on you.” you stroked his cheekbone gently. He shook his head and pulled you closer, one hand firmly around your waist and the other on the back of your head.

“It’s alright, I was an ass for not letting you know,” he kissed the top of your head. You hummed and breathed in his scent. Some people have blankets to calm them, you had Shōta. The warmth of his body helped you focus and think clearly. With him, you were safe. Your hero.

“What got you so worried lately?” he asked, rubbing the small of your back in comforting circles. He let you pull away just enough to be able to look at him. There was concern in his gaze. Only with you was he so open with his emotions. You raised your hand again, this time to play with his messy hair, watching how the little curls hugged your fingers. You needed a while to think through what you were going to say. He gave you time, as patient as ever.

“I’m just worried,” you sighed. There was no way you could manage to organize everything that was on your mind into neat little sentences. “Ever since the criminality began to rise and you are on patrols more often I just can’t stay calm until you come home. I’m sorry, I know it’s not rational,” you looked away. “And with the USJ attack, the camp and…,” you trailed off. You didn’t want to think about any of the events. It was too painful. The scar under his eyes made you flinch every time you saw it. You brought your hand up to his face and dragged your fingers over the rough skin. His orbital floor got shattered that day. He could’ve lost his sight, ability… he could’ve died.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” you whispered with tears burning threatening to spill from your eyes. You buried your face into his chest and he used this opportunity to stroke your hair. Your breathing was fast as panic began to take over. You wouldn’t let it. Instead you focused on the cold air of the night, the burning sensation in your lungs with every breath you took. The soft material of his shirt and the firmness of his chest underneath it. His hands in your hair and support of his body.

He gave you time to calm down, still gently caressing your back and hair. Soon after you started dating he realized that if you were to be reasoned with, you needed to be calm. He waited for your breathing to slow down before talking.

“There’s no reason for you to apologize,” he assured you, his voice kind. It was like honey, soothing the aches. “I understand why you’re worried. Hell if that Nomu thing hurt you like he did to me, you wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house,” he was serious and you knew it but it still made you chuckle. You turned your head to side, his heart right under your ear. It was beating faster than usual. Finally you were beginning to feel better.

“I know you’re hero and all, but wouldn’t it be fair for you to also stay home more then?” you piped in quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. His hold got little stronger, pulling you close enough for him to kiss your temple. A quiet apology.

“I can’t and you know it, [y/n],” he said. “I want to make sure you’re safe, that the streets are safe for you and everyone else. Every hero is needed if we want to stabilize the situation.”

You of course knew it was true. The news talked every day about the rising crime wave. All Might was done. Sure they needed every hero possible to patrol the streets. Shōta was strong, his quirk as well, he was truly a hero both in ability and heart but he was your boyfriend as well and you couldn’t imagine what would you do should something happen to him again. Let alone something worse than the USJ.

Still, the situation in your relationship needed a solution too; one that would both keep you calm and would bother him. It wasn’t easy to live with hero but for Shōta, you’d try your best to think of something.

“Couldn’t you at least work during the day? I might feel better,” you snuggled closer. You momentarily forgot the obvious, didn’t realize the only possible answer.

“My job at U.A., [y/n],” he reminded you, “It’s not like the principal can shift all of my lessons to the afternoon. And unfortunately, they all have potential so I can’t kick them out,” there was a hint of pride in his voice. You chuckled, it was so very unlike him. Then again, he was a softie. You hoped the students realized that their teacher was the best of them all.

“Then maybe a sidekick?” you suggested but his annoyed groan was enough for an answer. “Or maybe another hero to be your partner?”

The hope in your voice was killing him inside. He knew you were trying to come up with a solution but he wasn’t sure if there was one. He sighed and cupped your cheek so you’d look up at him.

“How many friends I have? Ones that I could tolerate every other day.”

You laughed a bit and hung your head in defeat. He smiled slightly as well, again pulling you close. He had to admit that he didn’t consider the option of a partner before but it was no good. Even if there was a person he’d be willing to partner up with, it didn’t suit his way of work at all.

“Mic!” you suddenly jumped, almost hitting his chin with your head. “You have Hizashi! I’m sure he wouldn’t mind teaming up with you,” you smiled at him, ignoring the annoyed twitching of his eyebrow.

“No.” He said simply. “I can’t work with him, he’s too obnoxious.”

“Yet you’re still friends,” you pouted, “besides your quirks could work wel-” you didn’t have a chance to finish since your boyfriend suddenly connected your lips with his. A crystal clear message: just shut up. You tried pushing him away lightly, giggling. Finally he grabbed your hands and pecked your lips. He didn’t move away, your foreheads resting against each other.

“But really, try it please? It doesn’t have to be forever, just till the situations calm somewhat?” you gave him your best kitty-eyed look. He sighed deeply and stayed quiet, his eyes closed. You let him think about it without saying a word. He’d told you that they worked together before so maybe he’d agree for old time’s sake? He wouldn’t, you knew. Because as much as it would calm your nerves it would interfere with his work. It wasn’t how he worked – he was fine the way he was, changing anything wouldn’t be rational.

“At least promise you’ll always call for help if you see serious trouble – and wait till it comes. Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you whispered, not happy, but at least at peace. Nothing more could be done. To this proposal he could, and did, agree. You smiled and squeezed him too, gently nuzzling into his chest.

“Thank you,” you murmured. He hugged you with a little smile. He’d never want to make you upset. If possible, he would do anything to not worry you. Yet it wasn’t realistic, as much as it pained him. You’ll worry for him time and time again, till one of you inevitably dies. Maybe you’ll get fed up and leave him. That was a possibility – rationally speaking, it was almost bound to happen. Only in this case, he’d ignore the odds.

“Let’s get back to sleep now, alright?” he asked with a kiss to your hair.

You gave him a small nod. You felt relieved and happy now, peaceful enough to fall asleep. Of course it didn’t mean that Shōta would be safe but it made you feel a bit better. With the problem solved, you felt your eyelids getting heavy and mind quiet. When you reached the bedroom, he tucked you in and soon joined you under the covers. He lay on his side, facing you to admire your now relaxed features.

“Will you hold me please?” you asked sheepishly, snuggling to his body. He was always so warm, you wondered if the energy from his naps was all transformed into the warmth. That would explain his constant exhaustion. You were really falling asleep quick, thinking about silly things. Instead of answering, he simply put his arms around you. Your legs became a tangled mess almost instantly.

“Good night, love,” he whispered, kissing you deeply, gently, but the kiss carried also a message of “everything will be alright”.

“Sleep well, I love you,” you whispered and a smile stretched on your face when you felt his lips lazily mouth the answer against your skin as he too fell asleep.

#bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa angst #aizawa comfort

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dangans-ur-ronpas · 2 months

Text

Chapter 15

alexa bring me my popped corn and a drink. im about to watch a white boy get annihilated

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

may go back and edit some things for the final cut bc im STILL not all the way satisfied with how the trial is working out

the one where byakuya has only the vaguest idea what the hell is going on

syo is so fun to write. sorry im syo apologizer now

betaread byy @digitaldollsworld :)))

Content warning tags: mild descriptions/mentions of blood/gore

< previous - from start - next >

The ride down to the courtroom is tense as usual, but with a new, palpable level of hostility in the air. He feels gazes, laden with suspicion and wariness, but there’s no whispers, at the very least. Aside from the rumble of the elevator (and the occasional grunt and insult from Syo, who was picking a fight with anyone who ‘looked at her funny’), the air is dead silent.

He ignores them, arms crossed and staring resolutely ahead. The animosity isn’t unfamiliar to him; he’s experienced such things countless times already, from his siblings who wanted him gone, to adults who thought him young and impertinent and an obstacle. And he’s not one to care for the opinions of the lower class either, but it irks him that he needs to take them into consideration for this trial.

If he lets them decide based on their naive pathos alone, they’ll all be doomed. No matter how much he disliked having to cooperate with the rest of them, as foolish as they were, it would be necessary to ensure his own survival. As a child, Pennyworth once reprimanded him for criticizing the democratic structure of the various national governments, saying ‘the greatest asset is people.’ Byakuya had grown to understand the truth of those words, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

There’s a quiet shuffling sound at his side, that startles him out of his thoughts. He glances over, and sees Makoto, surreptitiously edging near.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, and when Byakuya raises an eyebrow at him, he taps the side of his face. “You know…”

Ah, right. “Yes. I’m fine.” He reaches to touch the side of his face - the swelling has reduced noticeably already, though it still feels soft and tender under his fingers. Like an overripe fruit. “Don’t worry about pointless things.”

“It’s not-” He starts, before sighing. “Okay.” Makoto’s head twists, glancing around them for any onlookers. “About my investigation-”

“Save it.” There were bound to be eyes and ears on them, most noticeably, Kirigiri’s. He can see the girl standing out of the corner of his periphery, a pillar of pale violet. He’d prefer not to draw unnecessary suspicion now. “I’ll hear about it during the trial anyways.”

Makoto falls silent. For a few moments, the only sound is the rumble of the elevator, the occasional shifting of restless bodies. Then Makoto leans closer until their arms graze, a sudden, shifting press of warmth.

“I promise, I’m going to prove you’re innocent.” There’s an unexpected fierceness to his tone, a determination that Byakuya only heard once before, during the last trial. “No matter what.”

He blinks, taken aback somewhat. He hadn’t expected this display of loyalty, but - well - maybe it was to make up for their previous falling-out. Whatever the case, Byakuya finds himself strangely reassured.

“Hmph. You better.” He crosses his arms and surveys their surroundings. “If you don’t, we’re all dead.”

So Makoto was certain of his innocence. That was some comfort, though Byakuya couldn’t put his entire faith in the other boy alone. At the end of the day, he could only rely on his own strength to get him through this.

It will be fine. The elevator shudders to a stop, and the metal grate of the doors rattle as they slide open. Everyone files silently to their stands, at this point already familiar with what being in this room meant. No matter what the outcome was, at least one of them would die.

From his stand, he looks around. Everyone seems somber, and even Syo is quieted down for once, currently consumed with picking at her nails. Ogami has her arms crossed, face turned downwards. Hagakure keeps fidgeting, head nervously turning this way and that. Kiyotaka seems as stiff as ever, posed as rigidly as a statue and staring silently ahead. Something white is wrapped around his head, stark against his dark hair; a bandage, most likely, and Byakuya wonders for a moment if he’s concussed.

“Welcome, welcome!!” Monokuma springs up, twirling on its chair like a clown. “What do you guys think of my redecorating? Pretty nice, right?”

Byakuya has no idea what the bear is talking about, until he looks around again and notices that there were more plaques, standing in each of the unoccupied podiums. Even with his vision, he can identify what the dark-framed rectangles are supposed to be, and why each of them had red paint splattered across it in an ‘x’.

Last time, it had been Maizono and Enoshima. This time, it was Kuwata, and Chihiro.

How tasteless. No one bothers to say a thing in response.

“Gosh, what’s with the silent treatment? Cats got your tongues?” Monokuma hums, apparently put off by the lack of reaction. “What a bunch of downers! Where’s your youth?”

“Enough with this.” Owada growls darkly. His hands are fisted tightly on the railing. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Well, aren’t you rip-raring to go! Didn’t expect that from you, Mister Owada!” Monokuma cackles excitedly. “But I don’t hate it! Alright, let’s get this show on the road!!”

So it begins. Byakuya readjusts his stance, lifting his head to stand tall and straight. He cannot afford to show weakness here. He cannot afford himself any more leniency, any reason for failure.

It was time to start the trial.

___

“Because we have a newcomer, let’s go over the rules one more time.” Monokuma says, as it climbs onto its chair. “At the conclusion of this trial, you will all vote for who you think committed the crime, and your vote will determine the results. If you can figure out ‘whodunnit’ then only they will receive punishment. But if you pick the wrong one…” It grunts slightly as it finally clambers into its seat, settling in with a bounce. “Then, I'll punish everyone besides the blackened, and the one that deceived everyone else will graduate!...Does that make sense, Miss Syo?”

“A death game, huh?” Syo hums, tilting her head. “No wonder y’all are so tense. It’s a real battle royale in here!”

“How dare you? My game is way more sophisticated than that government-organized waste of tax dollars!” Monokuma sounds genuinely affronted, somehow. “But- well, I could talk forever about that, but I don’t wanna cut into everyone’s time. To start, why don’t we go over some details from the case? I’m dying to know what you guys are thinking~!”

The response is more quiet, some awkward shuffles. Considering the events of the last trial, everyone was treating this one like a minefield, and each person was afraid to venture out first.

Finally, someone speaks up. “Let’s start with the scene itself.”

Kyoko’s voice is calm and steady, and cuts through the tense air. Silently, Byakuya appreciates her initiative, the careful drawing of the reins, the call for a preamble. If he came out and began throwing accusations outright, it would only damage his credibility; he needs a base to stand on.

“R-right.” Makoto follows up quickly. “Um, so. At around…one-fifteen today, Chihiro’s body was discovered by Byakuya, Hina, and Kyoko in the hallway outside the library. The body announcement went off shortly after.

“The body…was leaning against the wall, and apparently crucified,” His voice wavers slightly, but he presses on. “The presumed cause of death was…was a blow to the head. The Monokuma file says the death was instant.”

A blow to the head? He almost asks aloud, surprised. Though it hadn’t exactly been clear with the amount of blood on Chihiro’s body, he thought the cause of death would have been stab wounds, given Syo’s modus operandi.

If it was someone with the same cleverness as Kyoko, they wouldn’t have missed such an obvious detail, and if it were Syo herself I doubt she would have strayed from her pattern… He casts a glance at Syo, now picking at her teeth. Though, it is difficult to kill someone cleanly with sharp objects alone.

Somewhere to the side, Asahina shudders. “How horrible…”

Makoto only nods once, jerkily, in agreement. “The word ‘bloodlust’ was written on the wall besides the corpse, presumably with blood from- from the crime itself.” There’s the quiet sound of him swallowing drily. “The scene also mimics the signature of a serial killer that was pretty prolific a short while ago-”

“That’s ri-ight~!”

He’s interrupted by a giggle. All heads turned towards the source.

Syo is twirling in her stand, pointing at herself with the same glee as an audience member who was picked out of a game show. “It’s yo-ours truly! Call and I shall appear!!” She strikes some kind of ridiculous pose, hip cocked out and arms raised. “Genocider Syo is here!”

Even though they had all been present for her initial self-introduction, the declaration still draws some disbelief. “Wait, so…you’re serious?” Hagakure asks, with an air of incredulousness. “Lil’ Toko, the bookworm, a serial killer? You sure this isn’t, like, a late-case of middle-schooler syndrome?”

“Bah! Don’t compare me to those posers, Grasshead!” She snaps, pointing at him, and he yelps, flinging his arms up as if she was threatening him with an actual weapon. “I’m the real deal!! Ask me about any of the victims, and I can tell you everything ‘bout ‘em, from their favorite foods to their shitty tastes in girls!”

“...Anyways, Toko - in this case, known as Syo - was also carrying these.” Kirigiri withdraws a brown pouch from her jacket, the contents of it jingling. “Inside are scissors matching the unique make and model of the murder weapons found at Syo’s crime scenes. Between these and the…dramatic change in personality, I think we can confidently assume that Toko is Syo, and vice versa.”

“Hmph. Gloomy wishes she could be me.” Syo harrumphs. “But yeah, sure, you got me detective! Me n’ Gloomy are like twins in one body, but only one person can drive at a time, yakkno? And she always hogs the wheel.”

There’s a murmur, as people take in this new revelation. “So…like a split personality?” Yamada asks.

“Not quite.” Kirigiri replies immediately. “It’s not clear how her affliction might be classified, but it does explain how she was able to avoid detection for so long.”

I see…” Celeste’s fingernails tap lightly against the railing. “But with this, does it not appear as if this case is already solved?”

“No…it’s not that simple.” Makoto says, a frown in his voice. “All of Syo’s previous victims died by stab wounds, but this time around, Chihiro’s cause of death was from blunt force to the skull…plus, nothing sharp was used in the crime at all.”

This time, Byakuya can’t hide his surprise. “Really?”

He immediately shuts his mouth, at once disgusted with himself for losing his control like that, but it’s too late. Attention turns to him. “What is it, Byakuya?”

He grits his teeth, now with no choice but to move forward. “I didn’t get a close look at the body earlier,” He explains, which is something like the truth. “But - given the blood and the nature of Syo’s crimes - I assumed that there would have been use of stabbing to at least mimic the scene, if only just to suspend the corpse?”

It’s a plausible enough explanation. He can only hope no one noticed the hesitancy in his voice. Kirigiri is the one that responds. “It is strange,” She nods. “I noticed that as well. But no, there are no stab wounds whatsoever on the body, and Syo’s scissors are completely clean. The body itself is suspended with an extension cord looped around the wrists, and hammered into the wall.”

This was more unexpected information, but useful information nonetheless. But it was frustrating that he couldn’t have seen it for himself to confirm, and all he could do now was rely on Kirigiri’s claim. But no one else was speaking up to disprove her, and so he had no choice.

“Couldn’t she have chosen a different weapon and method of crucifixion to keep suspicion off of herself?” Celeste asks again, curiously. “Given the enclosed nature of our surroundings, would it not make sense for her to try and create a scene where we could not ascertain her role in it?”

“Right! Couldn’t it be that Syo - er, Miss Syo -” Yamada corrects himself quickly. “- was trying to cover her tracks? I mean, I’ve seen it all the time in mystery mangas, where the killer changes up their style to throw the dogs off their tail…”

“No way!” Syo confirms aloud, sounding genuinely affronted by the suggestion. “I take pride in my works, yakkno? Any shmuck can make sushi, but it takes a real master to make the real thing. And what happened with Chihiro is some cheap convenience-store trash you can buy for a kid’s allowance!”

Ugly metaphor aside, it made sense. After reading so many case files, he had an understanding of how hedonistic killers operate, and it seemed that Syo was certainly not out of the norm in this case. She and the mastermind were similar in this regard. No matter how irrational, they always adhered to their own twisted sense of pride, and by extension, followed their own set of guidelines strictly.

But, then that meant it was unlikely for Syo to have committed the deed. Out of three possible suspects in his mind, he knew it was not himself, and if it wasn’t her, then the last one left was…

“That’s a possibility, but it’s not likely here,” Kirigiri speaks as if Syo had never said anything in the first place. “Syo was far too eager to reveal her identity, so it’s unlikely that she had intentions of hiding herself...and furthermore, with someone with as extensive a streak as her, it strikes me as odd that she would break her habits now.” She voices out the exact thoughts he was having himself, and that both reassures and irritates him at the same time. “Rather, the obvious way the body was displayed, plus the small differences with the actual killing method and the mounting, makes me think that this is a red herring.”

“Quite right,” Byakuya says now, and he can feel eyes turning onto him. “But many details on Syo’s killing methods and habits were concealed from the public, including the fact that the victims were crucified. Which means there is only a limited number of people here who could have copied her M.O to this extent. Am I correct?”

There’s a moment’s pause. He’s taken them by surprise, by pointing out the very thing that would otherwise suggest his involvement. Everyone had seen Owada confront him on the second floor hallway, had heard his messy accusation, though given how Kirigiri was quick to have the suspects isolated and Owada occupied by the menial task of overseeing the scene, they likely weren’t aware of any real explanation for his suspect status beyond Owada’s initial, hasty claims.

That was what he needed to take advantage of now, if he was going to keep suspicion off of him and survive.

Kirigiri nods slowly, likely also taken aback by his sudden interjection. “That’s true…the details of the Syo’s victims were kept confidential to only high-level police and investigators-”

“But that doesn’t mean jack here,” Owada cuts in sharply. He had been quiet this entire time, but now he leans forward, hands clutched against the wooden rail. The tip of his pompadour is facing Byakuya, as if staring him down. “There was that folder thing, right? The one that had all the details on Toko or Syo or whatever, I don’t give a shit.” He drawls out his cusses with a snarl, trembling with rage. “And the only guy who’s spent enough time in the library to be reading about that kinda stuff is right in front of me.”

Byakuya suppresses a sigh. Of course, Owada would jump to such conclusions, easily thrown into a blind fury by mere provocation. The bruise still throbbing on his face is evidence of that. “As I was beginning to explain, yes, I did have access to this knowledge. However, I alone can’t be classified as the killer-.”

Owada cuts him off again. “But there’s more evidence, ain’t there? You were the only one closest to the body when it was found. You were the only one with blood on you-”

“Oh, please. Everything you’re describing is circumstantial at best.” He scoffs. “It’s not like I’m locking the library doors or living in there, anyone could have read that file. I don’t have access to anything that could’ve been used to stage such a crime. And the blood on me isn’t enough to justify a murder.”

“You could’ve cleaned it off then!” Owada spits, and Byakuya simply rolls his eyes.

“And what’s your proof? Beyond your own, half-baked opinions based on some coincidences?” He snarks. He can’t waste too much time on this. He needs to move on, and quickly. If too much attention lingers on him, he’ll lose credibility. “Tell him, Makoto.”

Gazes turn towards Makoto. Byakuya waits, expecting him to say something, to point out the blatant lack of proof, or offer some counterargument to break down Owada’s logic. But Makoto is silent, his face cast downwards. After a pause that feels entirely too long, Byakuya finally understands why.

The realization completely derails him, and his fragile, haphazard plan of attack shatters. “Don’t tell me…” he says incredulously under his breath, mostly to himself.

“There is proof.” Kirigiri confirms his suspicions. She holds something up - rectangular and maybe the size of a small book, and maybe white once, but stained so thoroughly with blood it was hard to tell - “There was a mess in the library suggesting a struggle had occurred, and there was a textbook that had some bloodstains along the spine found near the far shelf. There were also two of these gauze pads found behind the door.” There’s a dry crackle as she sets the bloodied gauze down against the railing. “Furthermore, the cord that was used to crucify Chihiro was also confirmed to have come from the library. We found an empty box with a broken lid, with a dust imprint that suggests that it was used to hold the cord.” She pauses for a moment, as if gauging reactions. “There was also a white sheet found in the boy’s bathroom on the second floor, with a large spot of blood near the middle of it.”

It feels like the floor is tilting under his feet, and he leans his weight forward into his arms, his hands still clutching the rail. The cord, the bloodied gauze? The sheet?

I’m being framed. That much was clear, but - he has no idea by who. It couldn’t have been Toko, or Syo. Had someone snuck into the library after Chihiro’s body was found, during all the confusion? Planted evidence to doom him?

“That’s impossible,” He hears himself saying, voice strangely distant. It takes an effort to drag himself back, out of his racing thoughts. He can still salvage this; I just need to stay calm.

“I’ve never touched that cord, and I have no idea where that gauze came from.” His own words sound pathetic and baseless, floundering attempts with no substance. “And- there’s not enough blood on the book to justify that kind of killing blow-”

“So it was used to hit someone?” Celeste asks, an amused note in her voice. Immediately, he snaps his mouth shut, cursing at himself silently. “Won’t you please elaborate for us?”

“That was-” It’s hard to explain the real reason. That he had struck Fukawa, in a moment of panic; no matter how much he hated that girl, to admit such a thing was humiliating, the act of someone lesser than him. “-from something else.”

His eyes dart towards Syo, half-expecting her to come forward and call him out on his avoidance of the topic. But all she does is…wiggle, her hands clutching her face.

“Gosh, I’m jealous of whoever got to feel those hands on ‘em!” She swoons, and he realizes that she didn’t remember. Either that, or she had no intention of bringing it up, and the latter seemed unlikely.

Kirigiri leans forward a bit, pale face turned towards him. “The gauze pad I held up was soaked through, but it’s strange how clumsily it was hidden. Additionally, just the two of them wouldn’t have been nearly enough to justify the cleanup of an entire scene, especially given the tendency of head wounds to bleed.” She pauses, apparently waiting for any protest, before continuing. “And the book, too. To match the shape and dimensions of the wound, you would have had to use the corner of the book and apply a heavy amount of force, and there aren’t any deep stains or large splatters against the edges that would suggest such a thing.”

The relief he feels is nearly palpable, Kirigiri’s methodical words like a balm. He’d be almost grateful for it, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was suspecting her as well. Was she trying to get his guard down? To ensure his support if she were accused? He can see others nodding, following her logic.

“And what about the sheet?” Ogami asks.

“The stain on it doesn’t suggest it was used to wipe anything up. And there are no clear splatter marks to suggest that it was laid down prior to doing the deed, to reduce cleanup time.” An inadvertent breath of relief leaves him, a quiet sigh, and he swears for a moment that he feels her gaze flick towards him, a near-imperceptible turn of her head. “The boy’s bathroom is also not as strictly regulated as the locker rooms, so to claim that Byakuya was the only one on the second floor who could have put that there is untrue.”

He refuses to let himself show gratitude for her aid. He looks away as she turns to him fully, pretends like he doesn’t see it. “So…does that mean it wasn’t Byakuya?” Asahina asks, bewildered. Byakuya opens his mouth to confirm-

“The hell it isn’t.”

Owada’s voice is a low rumble. Byakuya has heard him yell and rage before, but there’s something different now. An unidentifiable emotion beneath the anger. But it creates the same sensation as the thunder before a storm.

“That fucker was in the library the entire fucking time. Chihiro got strung up right across from him.” The room is silent, everyone terrified to interrupt. Byakuya can hear the creak of wood as Owada fists tighten on the rail. “There’s too many things that make him suspicious, don’t fucking tell me that all of you are just gonna write it off as fucking coincidental? Chihiro’s DEAD!”

“That’s-” Makoto speaks up, but his voice is drowned out almost immediately.

“The gauze. The case file. The sheet, the fucking extension cord.” Owada continues, turning slowly to cast his gaze at every person in the courtroom. “There’s no one else in this room who could’ve known about how Syo does her murders. There’s no one else with access to all the pieces to set this shit up. There’s no one else who would’ve had a motive-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He manages to keep his voice halfway steady, unshaken despite the sudden onslaught, but the beds of his fingernails are beginning to ache from where he digs his nails into the grains of the wood. The inside of his mouth tastes of metal and salt, accompanied by a raw, bleeding pain in his cheek.

“A motive. You, during breakfast - didn’t you say all that shit about ‘waiting for someone to die’?” Owada sounds just as hysterical as himself. “And then, Chihiro said you were the one who told him to tell everyone his secret - were you trying to get his guard down? To make him vulnerable, like you said?!”

“You’re insane. Do you even hear yourself?” Byakuya spits back. His head spins, and he feels sick. “I would never kill Chihiro, I-”

I owe him a debt.

He can’t say that. The words freeze on his tongue before he even comprehends what he’s about to say, as if pure instinct has held it back. But his mind feels unfamiliarly, frustratingly blank, filled with the static of rushing thoughts and a haze of panic.

If he tries to explain, he reveals his blindness, and makes himself vulnerable. If he doesn’t, he risks letting himself be identified as the culprit. His options were torn between his honor and his life, and either choice would ruin him.

He hasn’t felt this cornered in years. Not since the competition for heir.

“See? See?!” Owada is still screaming, but he sounds so far away. It sounds almost frenzied, as if with triumph. “He can’t even explain himself! He tricked Chihiro, and then murdered him!”

“No, that’s wrong!”

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #had to throw in a 'tell em makoto' in here somewhere bc. he's so extra #this would go a lot smoother if he just admitted he hit toko (hitting a girl...not cool byakuya)#to summarize the evidence at this point: the mess in the library + the bloody book #the bloodied gauze pads behind the door #the sheet with a large spot of blood found in the boy's bathroom #the electrical cord used to hang chihiro came from the library

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fanfic-recs-01 · 10 months

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Haikyuu Fics

This is a list of Haikyuu fics I like on AO3, if you have any recs for me feel free to send me some!

Updated 12/27/23

Kagehina

Twitch by CheekyBrunette

~"He was aware of the itch he’d feel before he shook his head or scrunched his nose. He recognized the impulse to move, but he didn’t realize how compulsive the behaviors had become. He had to shake his head. He had to scrunch his nose. He had to shrug his shoulders over, and over, and over.

It wasn’t until he was nine-years-old that Shouyou realized he couldn’t control his movements like other kids could."~

Hurt by someonestolemyshoes

~It’s alarming, Kageyama thinks, how quickly things can go downhill.~

~One minute Hinata is fine, at the top of his game, spiking left and right and everywhere in between and the next he is crumpled in a limp, lifeless heap on the gym floor and the resounding crack of his head hitting the wood is still echoing in Kageyama’s ears.~

Have a Seat (While I Take to the Sky) by umisabaku

~"Hinata never once felt like he should tell his teammates that he has superpowers and he doesn’t think of it as keeping a secret so much as not telling people unimportant details."~

Our souls can manage by copywritings

~Once someone has touched their soulmate, they are linked together by marks made on the skin. Any drawing or line made on one body will show up on the other. Despite how desperately Hinata wanted a soulmate, he seriously doubted he would ever find them. His rotten luck came true when he realized he was in fact getting soulmate marks, he just had no idea the identity of the drawer.~

King’s Whim by GalacticSaz

~Before Hinata's first Middle school match, he meets the dreaded King of the Court. He's supposed to be the tyrannical ruler, so why is he blushing?~

Conflict of interest by zukushou

~Kageyama and Hinata are married. The press seem to think that they’re hostile rivals who despise each other.~

Hoodie by JuniperWren

~Since their fight Hinata and Kageyama haven’t really been on speaking terms, nor seeing terms really. The two have been avoiding each other. But Hinata misses his friend, no more than you would miss a friend. While at home, Hinata would often wear a hoodie Kageyama had left there before their fight. One day, Hinata accidentally wore Kageyama's hoodie instead of his own under his uniform to school.~

Paper Crown by moonowls

~A fluffy and soft Kagehina short fanfic in which both Kageyama and Hinata seem to be oblivious to each other's feelings and struggle to spend more time with each other.~

a bento for dr. kageyama by zukushou

~“I’m dropping this off for Dr. Kageyama!” Hinata proclaimed, placing the bento on the counter. The man looked at him skeptically, slowly sliding the wrapped package towards himself.

“Kageyama Tobio?” The other man at the front desk asked dubiously. “I mean, we’ll give it to him,” Shallot-head started slowly. “But I can’t promise he’s gonna want it…”~

On Great Rivalries and General Dumbassery by NocturnalNights

~It's not exactly that they were hiding the fact that they had been married for about 7 years now. It's that no one seemed to have caught on yet.~

The Love of Volleyball by renyanen

~Hinata and Kageyama have always shared something special, something that transcends the norms of teammate relationships. Things start to change, however, after they share an embrace in a moment of passion on the court and Kageyama can’t help but start seeing the decoy in a different light.~

let me in on the open secret too by switmikan74

~Kageyama has been in a serious relationship for six years now. Only that, he did not know he was even dating anyone.

OR that time when,

Hinata has been dating Kageyama behind Kageyama’s back.~

Whole Milk by Esselle

~When Hinata sees a guy walking along the side of the road on a frigid night, he stops to give him a ride like any decent person would. What he doesn't realize is that his grumpy passenger, Kageyama, assumes his intentions are somewhat less innocent than that.~

time zones by nure

~“Tsukishima. Explain the tweet.”

“What do you not understand by we’re on a da-“

“Does Hinata have a boyfriend?”

A long pause. Kageyama holds his breath.

“Oh my god.” Tsukishima snorts. “Oh my god. You are so dumb.”~

A Couple of Awesome Players by Esselle

~Overcome with glee and affection, Shouyou smashes his cheek against Kageyama's, and his grin overflows, the happiness sliding over onto the other boy's face until he's beaming, too.

"Kageyama, do you wanna be best friends?"

Kageyama looks stunned. "If you want. I've never had a best friend before."~

they don't know you like i do by murakamism

~(Or: Kageyama Tobio is bad at interviews, Oikawa’s still out to get him, Hinata is great with fans, and loves jumping onto Kageyama on live TV after winning games. Not that Kageyama minds)~

spoiled by buu

~It's the Kageyama that gently takes Hinata's hand when they're walking together, or rests his head on the top of Hinata's when they're watching TV, or pulls Hinata into his lap when he complains about being cold. Hinata struggles at first, confused and thinking Kageyama's making fun of him or something, but he slowly starts to realize that, beyond all belief, Kageyama is the Doting type.~

as seen on tv by zukushou

~Kageyama Tobio watches video game live streams to help him study. This is all fine and good, until his favorite streamer’s roommate turns out to be the cutest guy Kageyama has ever seen.~

the hedgehog's dilemma by drunkonwriting

~So when he comes to Karasuno, Tobio expects more of the same. He won't make the same mistakes again, but he doubts anyone on the team will like him

But when he sees that orange-haired shrimp staring at him from the gym doors, eyes wide and betrayed, he feels a vague sense of premonition.~

Catching up to the Trend by maevethell

~Tobio is usually inactive on his social media platforms; that is until he learns that his husband has been using his inactivity to make him trend on the blue bird app.~

it's platinum by akaashism (acciomerlin)

~“Rivals or lovers? MSBY Black Jackals’ Hinata Shouyou likes steamy photo of ex-teammate and rival Kageyama Tobio of the Schweiden Adlers and fans wonder if there might be something more brewing between the two V.League players beneath their competitive facade”~

chase the light, my love by thebeamingsun

~Kageyama should've told his team about his boyfriend before telling them his plans to propose.~

He Waits For a Miracle by ich_bin_ein_stern

~A minute ago, he was on the ground after he and the others were tackled by their happily weeping senpai. They had just beat Shiratorizawa.And now - "Kageyama-kun? Are you paying attention?" - he's trying not to freak out because he's surrounded by distantly familiar faces while wearing a school uniform he hasn't worn in almost a year.~

Kiss With A Fist by Kicon

~The newest Karasuno Men's Volleyball Club first years are eager to begin their journey, and especially eager to meet their new upperclassmen and idols: Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou. Upon arrival to the gym, though, they're surprised to find the supposed friends fighting and are blown away when they learn that the third years are actually dating.It makes them wonder how Kageyama and Hinata got together in the first place...~

i'm only me because of you by chocolavi

~“Eeeeh” Hinata whines, stumbling over to Kageyama, placing a hand on each side of him against the lockers, effectively trapping him.“Is that really the first thing you want to say to me after I come back?” Kageyama looks down at him, unamused. “Technically the first thing you said to me was ‘bathroom break?’ If I recall correctly.”~

Kuroken

Thicker than Blood by Kylar

~Kuroo is the heir to a prominent yakuza family and has spent his whole life growing up around guns and violence and crime. So when news of trouble stirring with a rival clan reaches his ears, he doesn’t think much of it. This is his life. But when a new student arrives at his high school and unintentionally forces his way into Kuroo’s life, he makes Kuroo start to question everything he’s ever known.~

can I be close to you by radian (arcsec)

~5 times kenma slept in kuroo's bed + 1 time kuroo slept over in kenma's~

was it me you were thinking of? by jacethebibliophile

~Kenma knew he was in love with his best friend for a while now, and he was used to keeping it a secret. He didn't want everything to change. But what if when it did change, it wasn't so bad after all?~

Make You Mine by fluorophoring

~It’s been pointed out to Kuroo that maybe, maybe, Kenma has a habit of buying him things.~

my hate for spiders is stronger than my hate for you by hqdorks

~Kenma just wanted to take a shower.Or: 'there's a spider in my bathtub and I'm to scared to go near it so can I use your shower?'~

Female Hinata

(Not usually a fan of one character being gender swapped in ships but I find these fics entertaining)

the future is female by earlgrey_milktea

~When 10-year-old Hinata was told that female volleyball players would never soar as high as their male counterparts and reach world-renowned status, she took that as a personal challenge.

Or 6 times other people found out that Hinata was secretly a girl and the +1 time she finally announces it to the world.~

A little bit of sunshine by sakurachi28

A series of oneshots wherein the main protagonist/the little crow is a girl. "Nice serve, Kageyama-kun!" his loud partner shouted. "You're really the coolest!" "W-What are you saying b-boke!"

It’s just Boobs by lance_space_mommy

~Hinata is a female. They’re at practice and an old friend comes by to say hi only for the team to be confused.~

Misc.

Beans Are Spilled by rubysilk98

~When Takeda-sensei said there's a practice match between Karasuno and Aoba Johsai, Yamaguchi couldn't help but wonder how shit is about to go down. Since he's been dating the captain of Seijoh secretly, he's determined to not let the cat out of the bag. But maybe he doesn't have to. Not when Oikawa himself had done it.~

Friends Practice Kissing All The Time, Right? by Castiell

~During the Karasuno Volleyball Team's Monthly Sleepover, it's revealed exactly who has and who hasn't been kissed. Finding out that Yamaguchi has yet to have his first kiss, but is more than eager to find out what it's like, Tsukishima agrees, with absolutely no ulterior motives, to help him practice so that he's ready for the real deal.~

As It Should Be by Anonymous

~"Hinata is bullied without the team knowing and then they find out."~

MSBY4's Lockdown Survival Guide by mintberries

~When the Covid-19 Shutdown is announced, Atsumu, Bokuto, Hinata, and Sakusa all quarantine in Osaka together.By the third week, Atsumu creates a TikTok account to make the days go by smoother, not realizing the public doesn’t know any of them are queer, and they have to make a public apology after they crack a few “offensive” jokes.~

The Mystery of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s Chocolate-Making, Paris-Living Boyfriend by crookedsilence

~Ushijima having a boyfriend who lives in Paris and makes chocolates isn’t impossible.But it is a little unbelievable.~

Yellow Card by crazychipmunk

~"A yellow card? How do you manage to get a yellow card in international competition? I didn’t know refs even carried them around anymore."Team Argentina starting setter Tohru Oikawa is known to fight with Team Japan's athletic trainer Hajime Iwaizumi during matches, but no one can figure out why.~

Let's Steal a Yakuza by delthemel (Multiple Ships)

~In a world where omegas are supposed to be frail delicate things to be taken care of, Yamaguchi and his friends are a band of thieves who steal for the right reasons. A lot of the times its to stick it to the alphas who run the world and push the rest of them around, but sometimes its to help their fellow omegas, destined to be treated like second class citizens in their world.~

#fic recs #haikyuu #kuroken #kagehina

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wootzel-dragon · 5 months

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I made a better commissions info setup, so it's time for a new post!

PRICES

SKETCH (somewhat refined sketch, markings may be roughly doodled in): $15 head / $20 waist up / $30 full body.

COLORED SKETCH (loose, basic color): $20 head / $30 waist up / $40 full body.

LINED (slightly sketchy lines and stylized fluff): $20 head / $30 waist up / $40 full body.

+ FLAT COLORS (crisp colors!): $25 head / $40 waist up / $50 full body.

+ SIMPLE SHADING (a soft variation of cell shading): $30 head / $45 waist up / $55 full body.

Sexual Content will incur an upcharge, please message for details.

Complex designs or props, and/or artistically challenging requests may result in price increase!

Some color adjustment and tinting to give the character a certain lighting/look can be added at no extra cost.

Additional Characters add 60% of the normal price.

Backgrounds are available on request, price to be determined by complexity (I may decline to draw a background if I’m not enthused about it, sorry!)

Different techniques or styles may be requested, price determined by difficulty and time taken.

PAYMENT DUE ONCE THE INITIAL SKETCH IS APPROVED. Price will be determined before I begin the sketch!

CONTACT ME

EMAIL or FORM preferred. Email me at [email protected] or fill out my google form here.

You may DM me, but I can’t promise to see it quickly.

(if you’re someone I talk with already, you may message me on whichever platform we usually use)

TERMS

Price may increase depending on complexity of design, accessories, poses, etc. Feathers in any number count as complex! I will let you know about extra costs before I request payment.

I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REJECT COMMISSION REQUESTS FOR ANY REASON.

Payment is via Paypal only and in USD. I will send an invoice when we have agreed on commission details.

I will send a rough sketch for approval before requesting payment, but will not continue working until the commission is paid in full!

If you have a deadline in mind, please let me know BEFORE I send the invoice, or I will assume that there is no deadline.

Progress updates will be given as I see fit, and you may ask for updates at any time within reason!

No refunds, unless unforeseen circumstances prevent me from finishing your commission.

Please offer good visual references for me, and if not, a VERY DETAILED description. Any details not specified will be winged.

Final product will be sent via email in PNG or JPEG form.

YOU MAY: Post your commission to your own blog or social media platforms with credit (and if possible an @ to this blog) and use your commission for PERSONAL USE ONLY (aka blog header, icons, RP blogs, etc.)

YOU MAY NOT: Post on other art websites or repost without credit, sell your commission (unless it’s part of a fabalume character sale), or use it COMMERCIALLY (aka illustrations in books or merch you intend to sell, etc.) If you want a commission for commercial use, talk to me and we may be able to come to an agreement on terms.

I LOVE TO DRAW:

Dragons

Fursonas

Animals, real or imagined

Invertebrates

Aliens and/or original species

Fabalumes!

I CANNOT/WILL NOT DRAW:

Mechas, complex armor, or vehicles.

Offensive/hostile material.

Human faces.

ASK TO DRAW, BUT I MIGHT SAY NO:

Gore

Weaponry

Most kinks/fetishes (you can ask, but don’t get your hopes up).

#open commissions #commission info #art commisions #furry art #feral furry #sfw furry #pens draws #I made these images months ago and forgot to make a post #oops #fabalume

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greenandhazy · 1 year

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I am getting like seriously obsessed with the idea of an AU in which Meng Yao, Wei Ying, and Xue Yang meet as children and grow up to be sworn brothers/an Abhorrent Triad (not sold on that exact adjective but w/e)

Wei Ying doesn’t get found/adopted by the Jiang clan, but a nice older boy who lives in a brothel helps him hide there when he’s scared of a dog and they become friends. Meng Yao doesn’t have much food to share, but he does what he can, and he does have books and that’s worth just as much. A few years later Wei Ying stumbles across a boy who has been walking for days trying to track down Chang Ci’an, despite the fact that he’s practically delirious from the pain of an injured hand. Meng Shi is ailing by that point and maybe Meng Yao is reluctant to take on another brother, but Wei Ying brings Xue Yang inside just to give him cool water and bandages at least and Meng Shi insists they help, and Xue Yang is already nursing a vicious streak that becomes really useful as the brothel becomes more of a hostile place to live.

A few years later, Meng Yao goes to Jinlintai. Gets thrown out of Jinlintai. But Wei Ying and Xue Yang are there to say fuck the Jin, we’re your family, and they swear it in an informal little ceremony in the cheapest room of the only inn they can afford. They go to the Nie. At some point, Jiang Fengmian comes across Wei Ying, realizes who he is, and insists on sponsoring his education with the Lan. Xue Yang is already kind of resentful because being a minor vassal for the Nie does NOT suit his temperament, so not being able to accompany Wei Ying is the last straw and he runs away. Neither of his brothers see him again until he’s slaughtered the Chang Clan—although I think this version of Xue Yang, where he has some family he can rely on from an early age, softens him just enough that he is a little more discriminating. He leaves the children alive, at least, and when he’s captured, his silver-tongued Da-ge can make an argument that he was enforcing some kind of justice.

Not enough to convince Nie Mingjue, but enough that Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan (who accompany the group to Qinghe this time because they’re obvi not letting this criminal’s brothers have absolute custody of him) are somewhat swayed. The three brothers end up escaping together—I’m going to say Wei Ying still ends up in the Wen indoctrination camp because he still managed to piss of Wen Chao, but I can’t decide if it makes more sense for Meng Yao to remain as the Wen spy or for Xue Yang to get that job? 🤔 Anyway ONE of them takes it, but regardless Meng Yao also is like “war is coming, that means civilian casualties, that means famine” and sets up like a proto-watchtower system with the help of XXC, SL, and other rogue cultivators.

Wei Ying still turns to demonic cultivation. Xue Yang still turns to demonic cultivation. By the end of the war, the major clans are still calling for their heads but they’re heroes and no amount of propaganda is going to convince the common people that the Abhorrent Triad deserves death, not after they saved so many of the lives that the major clans didn’t seem to care about.

Hand-waving the end of the war a bit because I’m not sure exactly how the Nie/Jiang relationships with WY and MY would change things, but. Imagining Xue Yang having a full screaming meltdown when Wei Ying dies, Meng Yao can just barely keep him from jumping over the cliff to catch him. Meng Yao asks Lan Xichen to promise that if they’re going to be executed, they kill Xue Yang first, because Xue Yang is practically catatonic and he can’t bear to leave his didi alone, even for a few minutes, not after all of this.

ANYWAYYYYY. I think the class and family politics of these three characters makes for a fascinating contrast and I would like it to have even more angst and love and the particular angst that comes from loving others more than you love yourself thnx bye.

#totally cql-verse because the ages are easier lol #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #xue yang #the untamed #(I imagine wwx and xy still get their courtesy names)#(from their da-ge)#(but meng yao refuses to consider one. out of pure spite.)#I posted this on twitter but I have like 2 followers and no one cared lmao #so tumblr gets it too #yingyangyao

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flowwochair · 8 months

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please do elaborate on angsty bessimu!! you are selling me on this ship very fast

also do you have sources for bessieres’ depression i’m trying to learn more about this pretty man

OMG GLADLY!!! THE MORE BESSIMU FANS THE BETTER!!! To begin with, like I've mentioned before, Murat and Bessières met by attending the same school (the exact age at which they met I am a bit confused on since according to biographies on Murat he started attending when he was 10-12 but I'm unsure when Bessi started attending, I assume around the same age but I am unsure on that due to lack of info on Bessi), I assume Murat must've been somewhat attached to Bessi given they soon afterwards went on to serve in the same guard (both of them dropped out, Murat because he wanted to, Bessi due to financial reasons), which makes their later separation in years between their early 20s and the Italian campaign even more odd to me, I'm not sure what happened, maybe Murat promised to find them better jobs after the guard they were in disbanded, maybe they had a fight, maybe Murat didn't want to leave but something happened so PRIME ANGST TERRITORY!!!!!!!!!!!! Murat managed to reunite with Bessi in Italy around 1796 after which Bessi was promoted and put under Napoleon's command, Bessi would also go on to serve in Egypt, Spain, Prussia, Russia, and Austria with Murat (those are the ones I remember for sure, so I may be missing some due to being unsure whether they were together or not). Their separation after Murat's betrayal was definitely sudden regardless of whether Bessi may have known Murat's intentions or not, we also don't know exactly how Bessi himself felt towards Murat after Murat, but I assume he presented more grief than hostility, or at least that it contributed to worsening his depression. Once again PRIME ANGST TERRITORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Regarding Bessi's depression, you can find info on it in a couple of his biographies (including his surface level wiki, although there it is mostly implied), some writings from his ADCs for 1810 onwards, and some surviving letters dated from 1810 onwards. Even before the Russian campaign in Spain Bessi was already demonstrating some signs of worsening depression due to his unwillingness to cooperate with colleagues and general apathetic attitude. Bessieres seemed miserable, and the Russian campaign would only go on to worsen this due to him having to witness so much death around him, not to mention the tremendous losses suffered by France during the campaign. To make things worse, after Murat's betrayal, Bessieres, who was already carrying Bernadotte's duties, now also had to carry Murat's, this would overwhelm anyone let alone a person already described as emotionally unstable as Bessieres. From 1811 onwards, Bessieres was consistently disgraced by frequent defeats and failures. By 1813 he seemed to have been at his worse psychologically), although I don't believe he knew he was going to die nor planned his death (the way it played out at least), it was certainly suspicious he showed less commitment and went out of his way to order a great deal of his personal correspondence to be burned.

#rhodo answers #rhodo rambles #jean baptiste bessières #joachim murat #bessimu #i am ever expanding my bessimu army

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bestworstcase · 1 year

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It's somewhat annoying that a lot of the discourse surrounding the Ever After fixates so much on the idea of Ozma, but barely talks about how it relates to Salem.

It's like everyone has done the same thing that Ozma has done to her: Consign her to being the obvious big bad who the fairy tales will prove wrong.

On a different note; how do you figure things will turn out for Neo?

I'll be honest, I've kinda floated the idea that maybe RWBY will try to help Neo out from whatever she's gonna go through as part of their epiphany on the situation in the Ever After and with the Ozma/Salem War, partly because I think there'd be a bit of a parallel to the whole thing. I just can't quite figure out how it'd work out.

it’s very silly because like… this is explicitly the point in the narrative where the question of how to stop salem is materially tackled, if there was any doubt of that prior to july it should have been laid to rest by the synopsis that dropped with the teaser trailer. moreover she spent v8 undergoing dynamic character development in tandem with cinder while ironwood stepped up as the arc villain, which is the first stroke of narrative delivery of things that were promised in the lost fable, namely that she cannot be forced to stop and so must be persuaded, by engaging with her as a person rather than a monster; not to mention that ‘the girl who fell through the world’ itself is brought into the story in close proximity to salem herself, in both the physical and metaphorical senses. rwby, as i keep saying, is not subtle about any of this.

anyway.

9.3 actually crystallized a lot of my thinking vis-a-vis what the ever after is and where the connection back to the broader narrative lies, particularly as it pertains to neo; i am still on this train with the singular difference that i’m now thinking that neo’s alice might actually be the jabberwalker rather than team rwby, and increasingly i am doubtful that neo is going to become an arc villain simply because so much of the narrative tension now hinges on the danger that team rwby, like alyx, might ruin this world by mistake. with the narrative arc structured so precisely around the trepidation of warriors in a peaceful world i don’t think we properly have room for an arc villain in the typical sense, and neo’s antagonism is thus likely to be restricted to discrete episodic encounters a la the jabberwalker.

one thought rattling around in my head is that the first thing neo does upon landing in the ever after is turn herself into ruby; she has, in essence, been consumed so thoroughly by the desire for vengeance that her own sense of self has been whittled away almost to nothing. when the jabberwalker first gets her attention, she refashions herself into cinder (in neo’s estimation a symbol of power, fearlessness, untouchability); but when this fails to frighten him away, she becomes herself again and her semblance spontaneously pours into the ground beneath her and makes more of her. in… the symbolic sense the jabberwalker’s threat forces neo to rediscover herself, to remember her own strength, shedding the facile illusions of other (in her estimation, better) people she has increasingly been hiding behind. that she and the jabberwalker are quite similar and that the jabberwalker has good reason to be hostile to yang in particular and rwb by association creates a fairly straightforward foundation of mutual interest to be discovered after the mutual startle is worked out (as i am relatively certain it will be, if only because neo does not actually have the means to catch him and the near-universal assumption that she succeeds in beating him up here doesn’t make sense given his demonstrable ability to run away); at the same time, the jabberwalker is far more timid and non-confrontational and his apparent reaction to injury or devastation leans toward healing (“fix!”), not vengeance. that combined ability to empathize with neo’s anger and contrasting constructive orientation strikes me as precisely what she really needs in order to get better, and also completes the rule of three as far as ever after animal companions go.

her interest in fairytales and her personal identification with both ‘the girl who fell through the world’ AND ‘the girl in the tower’ also feel like one of the more obvious doors through which salem might be brought into the ever after’s narrative. i’ve been pondering since last week that the arc narrative might bifurcate such that team rwby gets the ‘identity crisis’ journey while neo and jaune get the ‘learning about salem’ journey and neither question can be wholly answered until the two intersect and everyone comes back together (i would imagine in the rusted knight’s acre, perhaps episode 6 or 7?).

it’s not completely out of the question that neo will instead end up on the more standard v->h track of being offered a compassionate second chance by the heroes, but 1. that’s not particularly rwby’s style and 2. the setup here, with neo having fallen into a different acre altogether hours after team rwby got their bearings and headed out, strikes me more as set up for neo to have her own arc separate from the heroes before she next encounters them.

#rwby v9 spoilers

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supersaiyanjisoo · 2 years

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"There's no shame in crying. I promise." (Cheelai to Broly) All the fluff, with some angst. Please??

Anon, I'm so sorry, you waited more than two months for this... I really have no excuse. I hope you will be able to enjoy this still, and thank you for your request and patience!

Wet Towels, Broth and Trust

Rating: G

Warnings: Sickfic/Sick character, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Also on AO3!

“Mmh. Cheelai was right. Your temperature is quite high.”

Lemo let out a sigh, shaking the little device he stuck into Broly’s mouth minutes prior– which was apparently called a thermometer.

Broly frowned. “But– what does it mean?”

“It means you’ve got a fever. That you’re sick.”

The word reverberated within his skull a few times. He ended up nodding absentmindedly as Lemo disinfected the thermometer with a wipe. By the side of the bed, Cheelai gave him a bit of a conflicted look, torn between worry and uplifting, her fists clenched upon her knees despite the smile she displayed.

“So, even big guys like you can get sick?” She teased to light up the atmosphere.

Broly’s forehead met the foreign feeling of a wet towel as Cheelai gently applied it on. Though it wasn’t unpleasant, the Saiyan did not know how to react in any other way than to look awkwardly at his hands on the blanket in which he was wrapped in like a child.

To be honest, if it wasn’t for the little woman, he certainly would have never noticed something was wrong with him in the first place.

Ever since leaving Vampa for the second time, which hadn’t been without troubles, he felt a restless feeling stirring in him every now and then. But, wasn’t it to be expected? It would be a lie to say the first time he left the hostile planet did not bring its share of misfortunes.

On the day of departure, he thought himself to be ready; yet he found his breath short, his heart throbbing in his throat and cold sweats trickling down his temples. But then, making him open his eyes abruptly, a warmth spread across the back of his trembling hand. On top of it was Cheelai’s. She shot a confident smile, yes, one that was… What was the word?

Friendly. Reassuring. Comforting.

“Trust me. This time, it’ll be alright.”

So he believed it would be.

However, as days spent between space travels and stopovers for food supplies or secondary duties went on, Broly still couldn't shake that feeling of unease that had penetrated his body. He felt like freezing in place, only to burn hot in his clothes a second later. Yet he endured it in silence, for he was so unfamiliar with the concept of expressing his emotions, as his father used to read him like an open book.

Cheelai was the one to step towards him in that moment, again. She always did.

“Hey, how you’ve been doing up there, big guy?” She slightly grinned at him. “You’ve kinda seemed under the weather lately.”

Broly blinked twice at the question. “There’s no weather in space.” he said, pointing a porthole aside that showed nothing but the infinity of space.

Cheelai could not help but laugh, and he did not get what was so funny about what he said in the first place.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” She gestured to him to bend down to her. “Come down here, I want to check something.”

He had no reason to refuse, and did as asked, but when Cheelai abruptly closed the distance between their heads, he stepped back dramatically.

“Why are you trying to hit me?!”

“Wha– I’m not trying to headbutt you, dummy!” She put her fists on her hips. “Would that even hurt you anyway?”

Broly gave a hesitant look, pretty much unconvinced, came down again nonetheless and let her connect her forehead to his. Surprisingly, hers was much cooler than his. The turmoil in him somewhat subsided to that soothing impression spreading.

But, before he could dwell in the sensation enough to enjoy it, she backed off, drawing a groan from him.

“That’s what I thought! Leftovers at lunch, and now you’re burning like a furnace! Lemo, get the health kit, Broly isn’t feeling well!”

Not feeling well?

He barely had the time to realize what she had said: he was guided to bed by his two friends, overwhelmed with attention in such a way it made him feel kind of awkward. Not to help, the moment Cheelai had stated that he wasn’t feeling well, the heat muted, becoming more tangible than ever and starting to toast his brain. His body could seemingly not decide between hot and cold, and so heavy sweat drops were only rivaled by mad shivers climbing his spine like frost spiders. Yes, he was… Sick.

Lemo shrugged. “Well, I can’t say it wasn't to be expected. Now that we’ve left Vampa, your body must adapt to a lot of new environments, and among them come bacteria and viruses it has never encountered before. Besides, there may still be traces of your fight on Earth… You’re still recovering, though it may not look like it. It’s quite normal that your immune defenses would be weakened.”

Weakened…

“Tch!” Cheelai huffed as she folded her arms, frankly annoyed. “And Goku said that junk he gave us only works on injuries, didn’t he? Geez… What do you think, Lemo?” She turned to her friend. “Wouldn’t it be safer to take him to a doctor?”

He thought out loud, scratching his chin. “Mmh, I’d like to avoid that if possible. A Saiyan never goes unnoticed nowadays and if it tumbles into the Freeza army’s ears, they could see a perfect opportunity to seize and attack us. I doubt Broly would even be in a state to defend himself properly… We’d be an easy target more than anything if taken by surprise.”

Broly’s fists tightened. Sick. Weakened. An easy target…

Each word said put an heavier weight on his sternum, and confused him much more than the fever itself. Their echo within… It brought his voice, father’s voice, to resurface in his feverish brain.

Crying is for weaklings, Broly. You should be ashamed of yourself…

Ashamed… Shame. Yes, that was it.

Right now, he was feeling ashamed of being nothing but a dead weight. Of what use was he if in no measure to defend his friends? Even in health, he could not have saved his own father…

A morbid shadow passed on his face.

Lemo pursued. “Of course, if his state worsens, we’ll have no choice but bring him to a doc. Just seems wiser to wait and watch for now”, he concluded, nodding to himself.

Cheelai agreed and gently tapped the Saiyan’s shoulder. “I’m sure Broly is plenty capable of kicking a virus’ butt in no time! Isn’t that right?!”

The call of his name and contact pulled Broly out of his thoughts. He couldn’t bring himself to share her enthusiasm, but agreed out of habit.

“Yeah... What’s a doctor?” He asked plainly, finally realizing he never heard that word before.

He could see the complete surprise in both his companion’s eyes. It was not the first time one of his questions provoked such a reaction, and though Cheelai did her best to retain herself from saying insensitive words, there had been numerous times where she could not help but exclaim: really, you don’t know what that is?!

Each and every time, it hit him a little more. How little he knew about the world...

“A doctor is a person that specializes in curing people that have diseases or injuries”, Cheelai started to explain. “They give you stuff you have to eat to feel better, like pills, or open your body to fix what’s wrong with it –hey, don’t give me that frightened look! It doesn’t hurt one bit, they make you inhale a gas that makes your body all numb beforehand! And they only do that to the poorest people, now… Healing capsules have become super sophisticated.”

“Right, medecine is practically automated these days… And if someone hadn’t spent a quarter of our money on clothes, we could have even got an automatic diagnosis device”, Lemo added, the tone in his voice leaving little doubt as to who that someone could be.

“Hey!! You spent as much as me, as long as I remember! Sorry I didn’t want me or Broly to rot in those uniforms forever, unlike others!”

“...So you don’t have to worry, Broly”, the other continued, ignoring Cheelai as she stuck her tongue out at him. “The absolute worst you could get is a medicine that tastes like sand, or a shot.”

“A… shot?” Broly arched an eyebrow.

“Yep! They put the cure into a syringe, and inject it into your veins using a needle.”

Broly’s eyes popped open at the mental image of a needle plunging into his arm– for if he did not know what a doctor or a syringe were, the vision of Vampa’s beetles and their hooked tongue remained very vivid in his mind. He backed up towards Cheelai, a very faint whimper escaping his lips, as if Lemo was the one on the point of stabbing him with that Hell-bound needle.

The girl chuckled as she spared him a pat on his back.

“You’ll be alright, Broly! With plenty of rest, you’ll escape the needle just fine!”

As if fate indulged in contradicting her, his lungs and throat started itching and he began coughing. Her hand went up and down his back, a sympathetic pout on her face.

“Maybe some syrup would help?” She suggested, but as soon as she grabbed the bottle amongst the medical kit’s mess and opened it, Broly snatched it out of her hand and swallowed its whole content in bare seconds. Not a single drop was left.

She gasped. “Broly! That could have been dangerous if it hadn’t just been syrup!”

His itching somewhat fading, Broly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s fine. Until now, everything you gave me was good.”

Cheelai’s little mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise before she turned away from him, muttering a flushed “Still!”.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you back up a bit, Cheelai?” Lemo interrupted. He had been careful staying afar from Broly’s bed ever since the conversation started. “This could be contagious, as much as we know.”

She scrunched up her face. “Naaah, it’s fine. I got pretty much everything as a kid. Heck, almost thought I'd been done for twice, but I'm still here! My body’s defenses are used to the deal. I haven’t been ill in years now."

The old man tried to convince her still, with little success. She remained by Broly’s side all while arguing. Meanwhile, her unfortunate patient watched her very intently.

“Mmh? What is it?” She asked when she finally noticed.

“Cheelai… You must be incredibly strong to have survived this so many times…!”

His eyes were sparkling with admiration –if Broly had sometimes been too weak to move, pinned to the ground of a cavern because of either Vampa’s rough life conditions, the exhaustion of training or the stabbing pain of a new wound that was deep enough to leave another scar on his body, it was pretty much the first time he was… sick. It was still new to him, but one thing was for sure: it was not enjoyable. At all.

To win a fight by resting –kicking the virus’ butt, as Cheelai said– and be patient seemed more than oxymoronic to his Saiyan nature. He only knew of himself strong and thriving –and yet, he was now rendered powerless.

Therefore, imagining Cheelai, Cheelai who was so very small and fragile like a porcelain figure compared to him, defeating again and again what put him in such difficulties right now… That impressed him. It truly did.

Meeting his boyish gaze, Cheelai snorted, a proud blush and grin animating her traits. She passed her finger under nose, a hand on her hip. “Well… I guess I am pretty tough, yeah!”

“Please don’t flatter her ego like that, Broly”, Lemo sneaked in. “I don’t want the ship to deviate because of that infatuated head of hers.”

Broly let out a little smile, but instantly stopped when Cheelai puffed in disdain as she adjusted the covers upon his shoulders and straightened them with her palm.

That gesture…

“Sorry, Lemo. We don’t talk to cowards who’re scared of a little flu.”

“When did I say I was scared?”

“Well, why don’t you come and help change Broly’s towel, then? It’s already dry.”

Lemo gulped. “Eer… I-I think I’ll let you handle it this once! You’re closer to the basin, anyway!”

Cheelai let out a mischievous giggle of triumph. “Hey, Broly–”

The end of her sentence was lost in the air. Smothered under soft covers, Ba’s ear lying above them all, and his head on several pillows, Broly was fast asleep. Though he wanted to laugh along with his friends, Cheelai’s simple gesture –her hand smothering the end of the cover, again and again–, had taken him back to the times his father had done the same in his childhood. Fluctuating in his imagination, the hazy memory sometimes reminded him the warmth of Ba’s ear he let himself entirely drown in, only to show his father’s cape the second after, reminiscing even before his friendship with the giant animal.

In the end, he could not pinpoint it exactly, the times that happened, yet he remembered it, the soft pressure of that gigantic, rough hand stroking his hair, giving him a sense of security, and… One would probably call it love.

Slumber had hit him before anyone could react, and as Broly and Cheelai turned down the lights and left the room, nothing but gentle smiles hovered over their face.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

The lights of the corridor behind Cheelai made her shadow stretch from the entrance to the feet of Broly’s bed, her small voice distracting him from his initial contemplation of the void of space through the room’s porthole.

“No, I woke up earlier.”

“Yes, but you’re resting, I mean…”

“...Not really.”

“...What are you doing in the dark, then?”

“I can’t light the room.”

“Huh? You forgot how to do it? You gotta clap your hands, remember?”

“I know that, but I can’t.”

“...Why?”

“When I tried with Lemo, it exploded.”

“...Oh, so that was why he insisted on buying two whole sets of lightbulbs… Erm- try doing it again, very slowly?...”

Broly looked at his palms with what little luminosity came from the corridor, a bit uneasy. He clapped as calmly as he could manage, and yet the sound was deafening enough for the lights to go full power and blind him. Thankfully, his eyes quickly accommodated themselves, and Cheelai’s figure, still in the entrance, greeted him with a smile.

She congratulated him with a flash of her ‘thank you’ gesture, to which he responded… almost perfectly. “See? You did just fine! Phew... I’m sure Lemo exaggerated your condition, he always does. So, got enough of an appetite to care for dinner?”

While talking, she pulled in a trolley on which a huge pot, large enough to feed a whole regiment of soldiers, was standing in a precarious balance. Cheelai had come to know that what she thought was enough to keep her stuffed and satiated for one week was merely an appetizer in Saiyan terms. Really, out of all her years spent meandering in space here and there, they had to be one of the most glutton species she ever encountered.

“I have to warn you though, it’s just broth. It ain’t good to eat greasy stuff in your state.”

Broly sat up straight on his bed and nodded energetically. Ah. Not surprised. Food was still food!

Carefully, Cheelai pushed the trolley further inside, and took an ample bowl which she started to fill after positioning herself on the stool nearing the bed.

“Where is Lemo?” Broly asked as he peered at the open door, expecting to see him appear anytime.

“Fella fell asleep on the job. Good thing autopilot mode got our back, isn’t it? Ah, wait–!”

The instant she had just finished filling the bowl, Broly tried to snitch it away of her hands along the large spoon she held –sick this, sick that, regardless of it his stomach was still rumbling!-, but before he could, Cheelai both backed up and put a foot on his torso to keep him away, all in one movement.

“Oh no, you don’t!” She groaned in her awkward, nearly-acrobatic posture. “I know you, you’ll gulp everything down before I even get the chance to say anything! You back up, sir! Shoo, shoo!”

Broly frowned, but ended up doing as advertised. Cheelai sighed, just glad she hadn’t spilled the burning hot broth on any of them.

“You’ve got to take it slow! How can you even savor your meal if you throw yourself at it?! Oh, wait, I know…”

The Saiyan blinked twice as the little woman got up her stool, put one knee on the mattress. Before she proceeded further, she looked up to him with her almond-shaped, smiley eyes, and asked him in a kind voice: “Allow me?”

Broly hadn’t the merest idea of what she wanted him to allow her for. With the fever still messing and flaring his mind, all thoughts went blank when addressed him with such a soft, gentle gaze.

It was so… She was so…

Without really realizing it, he acquiesced, but it was just his silly squeezing heart’s fault, making him feel weird, and nothing else.

Cheelai helped herself to the bed, and presented to his lips a soup-full spoon with a happy smile. “Come on!”

The gesture still confused him. With quite a bit of difficulty, he had finally learned how to get ahold of both cutlery and chopsticks alongside his two little friends –but how was he supposed to take the spoon without splattering the bed with broth?

“Don’t bother”, Cheelai said when he went in to pick up the spoon. “Today, you can just eat and not worry about the rest. I’ll be your nurse, I guess– so let me take care of you! You better enjoy it, because I won’t do it everyday!”

Her laughters had always been somewhat contagious, but Broly could only address her a shy and clumsy smile as he took the spoon in his mouth. Then another, and another, Cheelai drawing the warm broth from the bowl, then the pot.

If it wasn’t for the vacuum of space and the regular, soft puffs of air Cheelai blew upon the hot liquid, there would be no sounds around them, leaving them in a little bubble of their own. Somehow, each sip he swallowed reminded Broly a bit more of the first time he met her. Oh, for sure, the taste of a chocolate bar and a broth were nowhere near alike, but, in all truth, so were the feelings that agitated him then and now.

He remembered her taking the time to open the packaging, and in that split second of waiting, his stare drifted from the offered food to her face as she turned back to him.

What weird eyes… He wondered, meeting her flamboyant irises, then didn’t give anymore thoughts after she shook the snack.

‘Weird’ was the best word he could come up with to describe what sensation these eyes ignited in him. It made him slightly curious. He had never seen such a vivid color before. All colors Vampa ever offered to the eye were nuances of green and dusty orange, after all.

Yet, what was originally nothing but an object of curiosity became associated with other words over time, and other feelings, which fever only seemed to tremendously exacerbate.

Broly was hence once again disobeying and, instead of enjoying his long-awaited dinner, he kept glancing at Cheelai. At her eyes mostly, of course, but neither were the pearl-like hue of her white hair, the softness of her traits and jaw, or the grace of her ungloved hands spared by his stare. He kept looking so long that what was meant to be the slowest meal of his life seemed to pass way too fast.

He didn't know a person could be so pleasing to the eye, before.

He had come to appreciate Ba's scary figure with time, and associate it with joy then happy and bittersweet memories, but he certainly couldn't fool himself into thinking the beast crimson-blood eyes weren't terrifying.

But Cheelai? Cheelai had always been pretty.

The prettiest... Beautiful.

“Here we go!” She exclaimed when there was nothing left in the pot but thin leftovers of minced vegetables. “Was it that hard?”

He shook his head. Gently, she then raised her arm to wipe some oil in the corner of his lips. Even then, he couldn’t detach his gaze from her, and he felt the heat on his face intensify as she unintentionally grazed his cheek.

“Mmh.” She emitted with a frown. “Your face is still hot.. I’ll refresh your towel, alright?”

As abruptly as it came, the warmth let him as Cheelai slipped off the bed, took his dry towel and went to the basin. Unknowingly followed by Broly’s eyes.

How dismaying it was to be… taken care of.

“Here you go”, Cheelai hummed, applying the fresh towel on his sweaty forehead.

Her hand met his cheek again, sending another shiver. This time, he instinctively jerked out of her way, startling her. A sudden troubled look passed on her face as he now avoided her eyes.

He did not know if he liked it. Being taken care of.

He enjoyed company. He enjoyed resting to a certain extent –a rest that felt like the first ever in his life, a rest that wasn’t plagued by the anxiety of survival, loss of control, the pain of electrocution. He enjoyed the warmth –the good kind of warmth– Cheelai spread so easily in his chest with a single touch of her magic fingers, contrasting with the raging fever that came from within.

And yet, each time he thought it was enjoyable, the image of Father and his own powerlessness flashed in him. Making him feel miserable.

Father then, and now them…

He realized it now. All he was good at was being taken care of. Even if it was in his own way, Father did take care of him. He taught him how to talk. How to survive.

The sole memory of that soft gesture on his chest that would always distill tranquility within him, was enough of a proof for his care.

It did not matter if the sweet touch of warmth and security was replaced with the cold tightness of a collar. It did not.

It was still care. He repeated it to himself. Father took care of him.

...And yet he had failed him as a son.

Broly... Broly was no good to anyone. No good to Father. No good to Ba, either. He was no good to anyone –and now, in this pathetic state where Cheelai wouldn’t let him feed himself, he couldn’t even protect those who had saved his life and had come to… take care of him, whether they admitted it or not, in Father’s stead.

“Hey, what’s with the long face suddenly?” Cheelai called him back to reality.

He considered pretending his fever was simply bothering him, but, no matter how hard he tried, he never managed to resort to lying. Only closing himself off in silence.

Nevertheless, emotions suddenly rolled on his tongue with such fluidity it astonished even himself. To leave the comfort of silence so easily… Surely, his fever was no stranger to this. The words blended in his mind and mouth, coming out only half-thought.

“I’m sorry… For putting you in danger… Not being able to… Protect you and Lemo right now…”

For all response, Cheelai smiled.

“Ah! What danger? Freeza may have eyes everywhere with his minions, but I know for sure he doesn’t know the big Saiyan is pinned down to his bed! Besides, even if we end up having to get you to a clinic and get spotted, I’d rather much take the risk than letting your condition worsen here. We’re ex-Freeza Army soldiers, remember? Okay, sure I wasn’t one for a long time, but it still counts. Fear was pretty much the usual for us. Hell, a little before we found you and your father on Vampa, I was bad mouthing that sucker and, well, when we accompanied you to his room in the ship, I felt like I was gonna piss my pants remembering what I said! Scooters are treacherous little bastards, you know. And yet I’m still here, with you and Lemo, aren't I? Sick or not, I know I'm much safer with you right than any second I passed in that damn army. We're a team! We'll manage our way out somehow, I'm positive!"

She had obviously thrown that fit of blabbers and giggles to distract him from his sudden gloom, but it didn’t remotely uplift his mood. He remained immobile, his eyes downcast.

“Still… Without my strength… Or even without… I’m not any good. If I wasn’t born like his… Even my father… Probably wouldn’t have come for me...”

As he talked, tears formed in the corner of his eye without him even realizing. Somehow, all of it had flown out of his control, in a way he poorly experienced before –blurring his vision, then dripping down his face, the teardrops falling upon Ba’s thick fur. They were small, quiet tears.

The brutal squeal of the stool’s feet rubbing the floor made him cringe.

Her cheeks flushed and her fists tightened alongside her thighs, Cheelai made her steps heavy on the floor as she began to adjust Broly’s pillows, a bit rougher than what she visibly meant to do.

“Put your head on your pillow. You’re too tired to think about all that, it’s not doing you any well. I can tell– you’re not making any sense behind those eyes.”

Unable and unwilling to protest, Broly put his head down, his tears now running across his temples. Though the blur in his eyes, he could make out Cheelai’s figure above him quite well.

“Close your eyes, Broly.”

He closed them with a deep breath, that for once had nothing to do with his coughing.

Shortly after, a soft, delicate pressure pushed down the mattress, and another rested upon his forehead, the thin wet towel being the very only border between him and the alien touch.

His eyes quickly flew open, but a little hand covered them right away, spurring his eyelids to go back to where they were.

“Keep them closed, Broly. Keep them closed.”

She pressed her forehead closer, wiping his tears and her indexes following their trail.

“We all have times of vulnerability, Broly. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, or bad. On the contrary…”

Her whispers were hot and wet to his ears.

“People think one is strong when they can take care of themselves… Or themselves and others. But, what takes real strength… It’s allowing others to take care of you when you need it, and not reject them out of ego or shame. Trusting others, during that time… It’s a strength very few people have. So, don’t reject us, Broly. Nor Lemo, nor me.”

Broly let out a small cough despite himself. The fever, and the warm words that created strange sensations he couldn’t bear to comprehend in him, all of it teased the border of his consciousness.

His tears doubled. It took Broly a moment to get where they came from so suddenly.

It was… tiredness. A good tiredness, with which also came another thing –relief.

His hand flew to his face, aggressively wiping what it could before being rejoined by a light, comforting weight on its back.

“There’s no shame in crying. I promise.”

“Mmh. Broly was right. Your temperature is quite high… Looks like you’ve got yourself a fever.”

Cheelai coughed in defeat, smothered under a sea of covers and pillows, while Lemo flaunted a wry smile as if to say “told ‘ya!”.

At the very least Broly had had the delicacy not to add Ba’s stinky ear to the pile of covers –she meant it with all due respect to the big beast and its Saiyan friend, but damn, no matter how many washes it got, it still stank to no end!

“You can only blame yourself.” Lemo taunted her with tongue click, as if she wasn’t already down the very bottom of shame. “If you two didn’t get so lovey-dovey when Broly was sick…”

“We WEREN’T lovey-dovey!!” Cheelai screeched from the dead (or so did it seem, considering how hoarse her voice was) and raised her fist in protest, followed by her upper body. Broly, who was sitting beside the bed, gently pushed her back down the mattress.

Lemo turned around, raising his non-existent eyebrows. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say, tough girl.”

“Why, you!...”

“Broly, you seem excited enough about this, though.”

The huge Saiyan, now all cured and swell, nodded quickly and nimbly.

“I’m not happy about Cheelai being sick, but…”

“Say, are you two really going to continue talking about me as if I wasn’t just here?”

“...it means I get to take care of her, now. She gets to be all mine.”

Lemo choked on his own spit and a millisecond Broly deadpan dropped that –then bursted out into laughter when Broly blinked at him in disbelief.

“Why are you laughing?”

He turned to Cheelai in confusion, only to get more confused. She was practically hiding herself, covering her very red face with both her hands and whining in embarrassment.

“Broly, for the love of EVERYTHING, don’t say things like that out of the blue!!”

“Huh? What things?”

Cheelai bolted out of her lying position, pointing a finger gun right between the poor guy’s two eyes.

“Oh, really, you DARE act like you have no idea what that means?!”

Broly looked back at her intently, actually genuinely interested in learning what was the issue. “Did I… offend you?”

At the sight of his innocent face –you could draw a question mark above his head and it wouldn’t feel out of place–, Cheelai suddenly lost all her resentment and strength, then melted back into her bedding, shoving her blushing face underneath the covers once and for all.

“...Nevermind…”

It did not take him long to forget the matter anyway. He reached to stroke the little white locks of hair that got past the covers, falling cutely on the humid fabric of the towel.

“I’ll refresh your towel.”

#brolai #broly x cheelai #cheelai #broly #fanfictions requests #my fanfiction #my writing

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kingxswitch · 10 months

Text

One shot || Friendship.

Eating had been somewhat awkward, there was no denying it, but the two men had done their best to interact to make it less awkward. When they got the chance, the two of them decided if they would talk, they needed to take a walk. So under the guise, which most likely didn't work on their partners, the two set out to bring the dogs for a walk.

They walked silently for a bit before Jay finally broke the silence. " I'm sorry if I made you think I was replacing you," he said with a sigh. At this point, Riley just was silent as he carried his dog. The tiny puppy just not being able to keep up with them. " I wasn't trying to. I just realized I needed to mend some old friendships. I didn't realize most of David's hostility was because of my actions when I first joined Bullet Club." Riley was silent, not looking at the Kiwi. " After everything he put me through, it hurt like shit seeing you two getting along. I get it. I was overreacting to a degree but at the same time. I know he still talks shit about me as well."

Jay nodded, faintly silent, as he listened to the other man's words. " I try my best, but I can't make the man stop. He's his own person," he said with a sigh. It wasn't like it was something Jay liked to hear himself. " You're both my friends, and I can't have either of you in my life. I've realized that, Riley, your not going anywhere. I can't promise Priscilla and Sydney getting along, but we can, at the very least." he said with a small laugh. " I know it's going to take some time before we're buddy buddy again," Riley added. " I still need to work on some of my feelings a little." The two men started to head back to the house, seeing as everything had been left out on the table. It was something only time would tell.

#( oneshot. )

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protoslacker · 2 years

Photo

I got to this thread by way of a link to Upworthy via my Facebook feed. I was excited by the research, but Upworthy posts in general make me a bit pouty-faced as do Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and the mere mention of of “evidenced-based” anything. Something in me rebels against reason. Which is not to say that I’m not a fan, only that I am somewhat reluctantly.

I recomend either following Blattman’s Twitter thread or the Upworthy post especially if the notion of more money for police and prison make you wonder it there aren’t more reasonalbe responces to crime and violence. Here’s a link to the paper.

Blattman has written a new book, Why We Fight: The Roots of War and the Paths to Peace.At that link is a YouTube discussion with with New York Times economics reporter Eduardo Porter. Porter’s most recent book is American Poison: How Racial Hostility Destroyed Our Promise. I work and so don’t really follow the news so carefully, still the Ukraine war and all the agitation for Civil War in the USA has had me on edge. Their conversation povided some helpufl ways to view these conflicts.

#crime #reasearch #violence prevention #book

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tele-caster · 1 year

Text

Journal.

11:47 PM 4/9/2023

Hello world. Funny how I get to write back exactly the date of my soul taking presence in this world, wow... So yeah mate, here I am once again talking to myself and making myself promises that some will be done and others probably considered, HAHAHAHA... We can't live in denial or acceptance to everything and anything can we loves?

So, since the last time I wrote A LOT has been going on. I wanted to actually stop writing for quite a while so I could take a break not only from updating myself or remembering myself about the life I am constantly living and what I am supposed to do about it but for also to breathe. These days social media bombards you, society is expecting and asking for, people get more pitty and anxious, working stations are stressful and hostile, too much to talk about from the average living wordly person, and so on, if you will... But yeah, I had the chance to get distant from everybody and everything. I'd spent a lot time totally alone in my apartment, no visitors nor visiting.

To me it was some sort of peace UNTIL, I had this small touch while watching a couple walk their Dog on a Christmas Day Afternoon. No, no working by then... But it was more like a touch because of being alone for a certain amount of time, " I believe " it has made me somewhat notice how distant or disconnected I am from such a feeling of " being " with someone I guess. Then I remember, not the pain of previous experiences but the time. My only concern is the time I don't want to invest into the incorrect person, emotions, moments and more things that come with that.

Besides... As having friends? I'm finally all alone. I know, sounds weird right? Thing is that now I don't need to worry about someone else besides me. Wether if it's a comment, an action, a suggestion, a manner, a thought or whatever that makes me go out of my lane on being focused who I am, and who I want to be; just makkes it perfect. I survived all these years alone and I for sure as as hell can do it 10 times again. Stop visiting and see who visits you. Stop texting and see who texts you. Stop calling and see who calls. Stop inviting and see who invites. Just... Stop, for a moment and regardless their actions just evaluate them as a " Through the mirror experience ". What cause does it have for me to have friends, that are not aligned with my thoughts, manners, actions and more? Again, we shall here see the representation of " Time " passing by also known as wasting it, in something that indeed does stresses me, makes me a little uncomfortable and also outside of my lane.

Having people like this... Oh, Oh-Oh... Trust me; they're tight and close to me. In my world we're not just going to call them friends, because a friend never hits rock bottom on my level of morality as for betrayal. But as life has said in many old scripts, books and acknowledgements... It's part of it all. You understand my point now? I just do not want to " be part of it all ". I've reconstructed myself during the winter season in ways that I've heard that I am still such a " Dick " " Over confident " " Cocky " man... HA! I am loving how they complain of their own LOW self-esteem, so my so called friends are also like this... Still awaiting for the " What they are going to say " the fake good looks, and the not aplaudible hollywood role of a nice gentleman. So no, I dont want to be part of of this, nor anything that has to do with that. I know; you're guessing. I planned out, you're investigating. I perish sleep, you adore it. That simple my dear friend...

So, for '23 NYE I can't deny I was invited to this amazing dinner. Answer to my invitation was no. Quite a bit UN-fun for myself since I like the fun that parties and things like that have to offer. I dinied the invitation because again; I preferred to have the night for myself... With my best friend, true, only loyal, friend; the moon. I don't know if people actually do remember that on NYE she was bright, milky and twilighty... So I guessed that no one would dare to go ahead and match my vibe; I just wanted some indie, little bit of drugs and wine.- But THEN! At about 2:00AM on the first day of 2023, the dicks of my " friends " forced me to go to the beach; ( which I did enjoy I liked with them ) to see the first sunrise of the year. Bloody loaded of people, not going to lie. However; after that day... I think that things have been changing so dractically and rapidly. Modelling is a full time job now, my passion for fashion... I think it was what I was actually looking for, finally got to make 2 products and now we're just setting things up for manufacturing and after process of market and blah blah, the boring shit. Can't believe also that time flies, 25 mate... At least a great, intelligent, well-educated, sophisticated, groomed and styled 25 year old man. Fucking hell, now we can trully say I am a man of my own balls. My result? I live alone, I had struggle to come up this far, not supported, used and abused of, laughed and ashamed of, money had been a real trouble for me to advance or level up for me due to my mental walls and irresponsibilities back then.

Now, this era, this time, this decade... Trust that the man you shall see you will even scare you sometimes. I am only concerned about myself, for myself and by myself.- Lesson learned, we do not need to discuss it. So yeah, like I mentioned... I was profiled, tagged and stated as a " Dick " " Arrogant " or whatever the fuck these bloody fucking pussies said; probably I am, in their world not mine. To me, they're weak for stating such comment on actually believing that you are capable of many things and more, to believe and create a mindset that you're the shit ( in your world and after God ), to have the confidence to say you'll make it no matter who laughs, critics or points fingers at. And I am the crazy one? Bruvvah you the prey in this jungle and depredator, and for sure as hell you have many more as me; so get tight.

So yeah; those are my recent updates for these past 3 months, April still hasn't had something interesting besides my Birthday, Spring Break and Holy Week. Work is amazing, money is going up, house is getting greatly furnitured ( missing the red lights for the room ), business and hustle is tight and we have secured the bag... HAHAAHAHAAHHA, MATEYYY what a way to start the year. No stress, alone and free of judgement, compromise, people and locations! Literally will be starting to live the life I was working so HARD to have for, I have to thank the universe, God and whatever that has me here present writing this at the moment.

It's a wrap up, just expect the unexpected.

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jonathanvik · 2 years

Text

Starlight Dream - Chapter 32

“Hey!” Ume said, running up to her.

Himari tilted her head, curious why the elder magical girl was speaking to her. Their interactions, so far, hadn’t been that friendly. Himari would almost characterize them as borderline hostile.

“Hey,” Himari said, deciding to be nice anyway. She disliked being mean to people, even jerks.

“We haven’t really spoken,” Ume said, somewhat awkwardly. “Want to go out for lunch?”

“I’d love to! Aiko told me about this super stylish shop nearby.” Seina’s friend seemed to have an eye for fashion. Impressive, considering she’d lived in slavery most of her life.

“I suppose,” Ume said, crossing her arms. “I’ve had little need for fashion.”

“Really?” Himari said, blinking in surprise.

“I rarely use my civilian form. It leaves me too vulnerable to a magical girl attack.”

“No.” Ume’s partner, Hope, said. “It’s because you have a terrible fashion sense.”

“Hope!” Ume said in protest.

Himari fought the urge to laugh. “It’s fine. I’m sure we can find you something nice! Besides, I’ll keep an eye out for any trouble.”

“It’s still too much of a risk,” Ume said, frowning. But the girl relented, untransforming after Himari’s insistent badgering. Her civilian form wore a shabby gray and black school uniform, with only a bright red box around her neck for decoration.

A reluctant Ume followed Himari into the market area. Sellers peddled their various goods from stalls, buyers ruthlessly haggling for better prices. They sold products ranging from jewelry to actual farm animals. It was like a marketplace from a historical movie!

Some buildings housed indoor shops, but they were rarer, selling more specialized goods. It was a fun experience, nothing like she’d experienced back home.

“Would you like this shell necklace, dear? I can promise a good price.” An older woman said. Much to Himari’s sadness, the granny was missing a leg. She wasn’t the only one who’d suffered such dismemberment, either. The vampire’s reign of terror had left terrible physical and mental scars that persisted in their victims. However, Himari saw most stayed positive despite their adversity.

Himari gave a polite refusal, guiding Ume along further. The older magical girl wasn’t as impressed by the market, instead keeping a watchful eye for trouble. Some wonderful scent caught Himari’s attention, giving Ume a slight nudge.

“How about soba for lunch?” Himari asked, guiding them towards an old fashion soba stall.

“Sure,” Ume said, still distracted.

Old habits die hard, I suppose. Still, Himari promised to give the girl a fun time.

“What will you have?” The stall’s owner asked.

“Pork, please!” Himari said.

“Same,” Ume said, nodding.

They shared their bowl with their fairy partners, Himari’s eyes widening as she slurped up her first noddle. It was fantastic, the best she’d ever had. From Ume’s wide-eyed expression, she thought the same.

“Grandpa, your soba is the best!” Himari said.

“Thank you, young lady.” The stall owner replied, giving a grateful bow. “I inherited this stall from my father. Been a family business for generations! Though the vampires forced me to close it for several years.” Grandpa’s mode darkened before brightening. “Still, old bones haven’t lost their touch, eh?”

“Indeed, you are a true master,” Ume said, giving a rare smile. Himari supposed her past gave her a few reasons, too.

As they ate, Himari’s companion suddenly asked a random question. “How old are you?”

“Eh?” Himari almost choked on her noodles.

“I’ve just learned Seina’s pretty young. I’m just wondering if you’re similar.”

“Oh, I see. You’re shocked to learn Seina’s only ten!”

“You already knew about that?” Ume asked, surprised.

“Sure. Seina told me herself.” The poor girl. Seina sure had plenty of responsibilities for someone her age.

“Figures.” Ume sighed, entering a gloomy silence.

“Eh, a couple of eons.”

It was Ume’s turn to almost choking on her food. “What?”

“It’s complicated. I entered the outer dimensions recently. It complicates matters. Time and space mean little there. So, my exact age is indeterminable. Before my trip? About two hundred.”

“Huh,” Ume said, somewhat lost for words. “May I ask another question? Why did you betray Starlight Dream? You served them for centuries.”

“Not out of choice! Do what they ordered or die.” But Himari sighed, staring into her soba. “But I suppose that doesn’t excuse the terrible things I did. That is the reason I joined Seina, though, to make amends. Someone needs to stop the suffering.”

“Hmm.” Ume didn’t sound totally convinced.

“I’m not alone, you know!” Himari said defensively. “We’re all terrified to oppose the Devil Princesses!”

“Yes. But can you be forgiven for such terrible crimes, forced or not?”

“I know.” Himari sighed. “But being human is about learning from our past mistakes and growing from them. Trying is better than quitting, right?”

“Though I’m hardly one to judge.” Ume gave a self-deprecating smile. “My sins are numerous.”

“I understand your doubt, but give me a chance to prove myself,” Himari said, with feeling. “I promise you, I want to make my past right.”

“You seem like a good girl. I’ll keep an open mind.”

“Great!” Himari said, Ume gasping in surprise as she seized the other girl’s hand. “Friends!”

After recovering from her shock at Himari’s sudden forwardness, Ume nodded. “Friends.”

“Good! Let’s eat up and do some shopping!” Himari scrunched up her face. “Something other than a drab school uniform.”

“Okay, okay,” Ume said, but she smiled.

Ume’s just lonely. Has she ever experienced a normal life? No wonder she was so prickly. They ran hand in hand as they darted through stalls, trying on everything they could. While reluctant at first, Ume started having fun at the third clothing stall.

“How does this look?” Ume positioned a sundress before a mirror, seeing how it would look on her. While cute, the color wasn’t flattering. The girl was terrible at picking out colors. Himari wondered if her new friend was color-blind.

“Get this one.” Himari pulled out a similar dress from a rack. “Blue matches your eyes.”

“That looks great on you, Ume!” Hope said, beaming.

“Thanks.” Ume’s said, hiding her reddening face as she pushed her purchase toward the woman at the cash register. “This one, please.”

“Sure thing, dear.” The woman replied.

“Where to next?” Himari said as they entered a park, leaving the stalls they’d been exploring. Ume wore her new outfit, looking absolutely adorable. As usual, Himari’s taste was impeccable.

“Some ice cream sounds good.” Ume pointed towards a stall near the beach.

“Sounds good,” Himari replied, watching in amazement as her friend took four scoops over her single one. She hoped the girl would be careful and not ruin her new dress with them.

“You sure like sweets,” Himari often spotted Ume eating Pokey sticks. She must have gone through four packs during the other day’s meeting.

In response, Ume gave a noncommittal grunt. She jabbed at her bowl of ice cream with a spoon, a monstrosity where each scoop was a different flavor. They ate in silence as Ume decided to not respond any further.

“Thanks for this,” Ume said, breaking the silence. “I needed this more than I thought.”

“You’re welcome,” Himari said. “I was eager to learn more about my new teammate. When I was on Starlight Dream, I’d always heard rumors about you. Turns out you’re just as cool in person!”

“Is that right? You aren’t what I expected, though.”

“Really?”

“You’re so normal. It’s a miracle you didn’t get purged!”

“Not for a lack of trying.” Himari forced those terrible first years from her mind. She’d seen so many nice girls dead for the slightest slip-up or careless word. The training had been cruel, meant to harden their hearts and terrify them.

“But it’s better after you survive general training.” Himari gave a slight snort. “The entire system is unwieldy, actually. They recruit so many magical girls that the higher-ups can’t keep track of everyone. So some are more productive than others.”

“Hence why girls like Takako are in it,” Ume said, her tone thoughtful. “I’ve never seen a girl so lazy.”

This earned a laugh from Himari. “If you keep your head down, it isn’t the worst.” Though, some magic girls were quite enthusiastic about spreading suffering. Himari often wondered if they were ever human.

“The real villains are the Devil Princesses!” Himari said with feeling. “If we beat them, maybe we can restore Starlight Dreamto a force for good! It just needs some reformation!”

“Is something the matter?” Himari said, catching Ume’s odd expression.

“Oh, nothing,” Ume said. “I’m just wondering what I was even fighting for?”

“Huh?”

“I thought I needed to kill every magical girl to stop Starlight Dream.” Ume looked away. “I never imagined good people might be stuck within it. From the beginning, I should have aimed for the leadership instead. Stupid.”

Himari grabbed Ume’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “And I’ll be here to help you. Together, we can make amends for our past mistakes and make a better future.”

“… Thanks.”

“Ume, are you crying?” Hope said, her voice teasing.

“No.” Though, Himari noticed Ume avoiding her gaze. “Hey, look! They have an old fashioned Japanese artist over there!”

“Okay, okay!” Himari laughed as Ume pulled her in that direction to avoid their current conversation.

---

“So, this is the place?” Miko asked.

“Oh yes!” Nyx said, beaming. “This ugly rock is Seina’s home!”

“Yuck, you aren’t kidding about this being a junk pile.” Miko studied the squallier these plebs called home. From their clothes alone, it was apparent these people had almost nothing. Despite being on the verge of being condemned, residents packed them. Some lived in actual shacks near the beach.

Miko turned toward their accomplice for her insight. “What do you think, Chō?”

“…” A pause as the girl observed two small children laughing as they pushed a shopping cart across the street filled with a random assortment of junk. “…”

“You’re not wrong,” Miko said, shaking her head. “It’s too hopeful around here.”

“…”

“My partner has a good point!” Kelv said. “Considering the planet isn’t a wasteland, we’ve somehow beat the Devil Princess to the punch!”

“Miracle that.” They’d known the universe’s location, but the Devil Princesses could cover a considerable amount of ground with their godlike abilities.

“...”

“I know,” Miko said, scowling. “If we fight Seina and her flunkies, it’d only attract the Devil Princess’s attention.” Then they’d be in real trouble. Their leaders wouldn’t appreciate someone getting in their way and stealing their prey. “We’ll just need to be quick.”

“...”

“Yes, I’m positive Seina lives in Osaka! Her accent gave it away.” Nyx said defensively. “She lives in the Prime Minister’s residence. I bet she’s still there.”

“If Emiyo is anywhere, it’d be there,” Miko said, nodding. “But that raises other issues. Seina and her flunked wouldn’t be easy foes.”

“...”

“That’s a bold plan, Chō.” Miko considered the possibilities and risks before nodding in agreement. “But necessary if we’re to find Emiyo.” She shuddered, considering the dank torture dungeon Seina probably had her kept.

“...”

“Okay,” Miko said, nodding in agreement. “We’ll wait till dark to enact our plan! We can’t afford to get caught” While she didn’t fear Takako, the girl had a habit of being unpredictable.

“Sure, let’s find someplace comfortable,” Kelv said, stretching. “I’m starving. We can snack while we talk. Hey, they have rice cakes!”

“...”

“We’ll get some sushi too.” The fairy replied. “I see a cart over there.”

Miko beamed. It wouldn’t be long until they rescued Emiyo, and this miserable planet was a smoking crater. And then, promotion for dealing with an infamous enemy of Starlight Dream! Her rise to lieutenant was long overdue! It’d take some convincing, but the Devil Princesses would appreciate Seina and her cohorts being captured alive. Miko giggled, already imagining her new office once they concluded this mission.

---

“Good work,” Ume said. “That should be enough for today.”

“Thank goodness!” Seina’s arms were sore after defending hundreds of attacks, each striking harder than the last. Defending against her new teacher hadn’t been easy, Ume always attacking where Seina would least expect. Her bodyguard nodded when she mentioned this.

“Yes, she seems to have considerable fighting skill.” Mr. Kiyojiro said. “Are you self-taught, Ume? I don’t recognize your fighting style.”

“More or less,” Ume said, shrugging her shoulders. “I’ve always had a talent for combat.”

“We should get you a proper teacher.” Mr. Kiyojiro said, considering. “You still have much room for improvement.”

Seina paused, a sudden thought occurring to her. “These last centuries of endless fighting and you never got a proper teacher, Ume?”

“No, I didn’t think of it,” Ume said, flushing.

“That’s Ume for you. So obsessed with revenge, she forgets everything else!” Hope said, laughing.

“Shut up, you!” Ume snapped back.

“You’re not teaching her karate, Mr. Kiyojiro?” Seina asked when she brought up the point.

“No, it doesn’t suit her.” Her bodyguard said. “How about boxing? A gym opened a couple of days ago. The coach will be happy to teach you. He’s an old friend.”

“Boxing?” Seina said, confused. “But that’s not a martial art.”

“It is, but fancy martial arts aren’t everything.” Mr. Kiyojiro said. “A nasty right hook is just as viable as a palm strike. Besides, its uncomplicated nature suits Ume.”

“Really? Why didn’t you suggest boxing to me, though?” Seina asked.

“Because you need to learn discipline, and karate seemed the best suited to provide it.” Her bodyguard said, making Seina flinch. He always seemed to draw attention to how easily distracted she could be. It wasn’t her fault she considered training boring. Seina pointedly didn’t make a comment on her bodyguard’s unflattering observation.

“I’ll consider it,” Ume said, considering the idea.

“What about me then?” Himari said. “I’ve never trained in fighting whatsoever.”

“You can join us in our karate lessons.” Her bodyguard said. “See if you like it.”

“I will!” Himari said, beaming with enthusiasm. “It sounds fun!”

Am I the only one who finds training stupid? Still, she supposed it’d be fun sparing with Himari. A sudden wave of loneliness struck her, reminding her of when she’d been training partners with the disguised Takako. They’d been fun days, even if it’d been a deception.

If she pestered Takako enough, would her friend join them for sessions? While a long shot, it seemed worth a try. Otherwise, her friend would just lounge around all day, reading manga. But would training even help her friend in the long run? Takako seemed better suited to magic than martial arts.

A yawn overtook her, the day’s exertions finally gaining their hold. Seina allowed her bodyguard to guide her toward her room. Colten rested on her head, Seina smiling when she heard his quiet snoring. With another yawn, she slipped into her pajamas and brushed her teeth at Mr. Kiyojiro’s insistence.

“Goodnight, Seina.” Her bodyguard said, pulling the covering over his dozing ward. He gave her a gentle smile. While odd on his rough, gruff face, it was full of affection and love.

She snuggled close to Colten, enjoying his tiny body’s warmth. “Night. Mr. Kiyojiro.” Seina barely finished those words, falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

---

Seina jerked in surprise as a hand clasped around her mouth, startling her awake. An unknown girl with brown hair glared down at her, venom in her eyes. Seina's heart almost beat out of her chest, recognizing the girl’s elaborate costume. She was a magical girl.

“Where is Emiyo?” The girl asked.

Eh? Seina shook her head, not understanding the question. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Behind the mysterious magical girl was a giant robot, its appearance something out of an anime. Its chaise was white, shaped like an egg with arms and legs. It filled the room, its domed head almost hitting the ceiling. Behind the cockpit’s glass window was a green-haired girl with thick glasses who watched the scene impassively.

Seina shook her head, difficult with the brown-hair magical girl’s vice-like grip. She flinched as the girl tightened her hold.

“I repeat, where is Emiyo?” The girl growled. “My power should allow me to find her anywhere, but it isn’t working. I’d find her even if she was dead! Where have you hidden her?”

Emiyo? Seina’s mind raced, wondering why a magical girl would rush to another’s aid? Didn’t the magical girls of Starlight Dream all hate each other? In desperation, Seina gave a slight shake of her head.

“You don’t know, or you don’t wish to tell me?” The brown-haired girl asked. Seina hissed in pain as the other girl’s grip threatened to tear her poor head off. “You can say a few words. I’ll snap your neck if you even attempt to summon your powers or cry for help.”

Seina nodded in understanding, tears stinging her eyes. She’d never been this scared before, completely at the other magical girl’s mercy. Her knees buckled, praying for someone to save her.

“She escaped! No clue where she went!” Seina said, trying to be as accurate as possible with so few words.

“What?” The brown-haired girl frowned. “A lie, surely!”

“No, Miko. It makes sense!” Said a familiar voice. It was Emiyo’s partner, Nyx. “She’s using her time powers to become out of sync with the universe! An easy trick to avoid detection magic. My partner is clever. Otherwise, Takako could find her easily.”

“So we broke into here for nothing?” Miko said, sighing. “Oh, well. If we kill Seina, it’d all be worth it!”

No! Tears slipped along her face to plop onto Seina’s sheets.

“Later!” Miko said, her tone all false cheerfulness.

Everyone in the room blinked in surprise as the arm holding Seina dropped away, blood splattering over her nice sheets. Seina screamed, scurrying away from her captor’s arm as it landed on her knees.

“What?” Miko screamed even louder, grabbing at her stump in terrified confusion.

“I can’t allow that.” The newcomer held his sword in a protective stance, huddling over her.

“Are you okay, Seina?” Paliah said, his tone gentle and kind. It contained none of the nervousness he’d displayed before.

“Y-yeah,” Seina said, her words coming out in a jumble. “Thank you.”

“You the hell are you?” Miko said, staring at Seina’s rescuer in both outrage and apprehension.

“Call me, Paliah.” The knight said. “I’m Seina’s protector. Touch a hair on her head again, and I’ll sever yours from your neck!”

#written story #anime #magical girl #anime stories #humor #starlight dream #fantasy #fiction #parody #action #starlightdream #slice of life #literature #friendship

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