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prompt-master · 4 years

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Bear Trap (Part 2/3)

Art done by @doodles-by-noodles

Kyoko was hunched over Makoto, her eyes were darting from place to place over his body. Taking in every gash and tear before acting. Time was critical. She needed to know exactly how to treat him, or Makoto could die right there in front of her. Judging by the sound of his breathing, stressed and heavy, she could tell he’d already lost a lot of blood. Well, not that you needed her expertise to determine that. You could just look at the splattered pink around them.

“It doesn’t look good,” She had said to Byakuya. It doesn’t look good. Seriously?

“No shit it doesn’t look good,” he spat out, sounding as intolerable as he did the first day they’d met in the killing game “I do have eyes, you know.“

Her right eye twitched. The logical side of her said this was just how Byakuya handled stress, by disconnecting himself and becoming irritable instead. The emotional side of her wanted him to shut the hell up. She opted to spare him little more than a glare before placing a hand on Makoto’s neck to check his pulse. It was beating rather hard and fast. It was strange really. She felt as though he was already dead. But that didn’t make any sort of logical sense. He was warm, he was still bleeding, he was shaking, and panting. All of this was right in her hands to be directly experienced. But he still felt like he was dead, putting her fingers to his limp neck.

She had a morbid thought just then. About how her talents were used to help after a death, never really before one.

"You need bandages,” Byakuya said, ever so helpfully, “how else will you stop the bleeding? Or did the panic render you useless?"

Kyoko took a deep breath.

Makoto wouldn’t fight right now, not during an emergency, and neither would she. It’s just how he copes. It’s just how he copes…

"Tear up your jacket then.” She stated, “I’m not certain mine will be enough."

She had to spark herself into action. She couldn’t let herself fall to something as simple as shock. She had been given mortician training as a part of the Kirigiri Family teachings so that she would have complete expertise on how different injuries came to be. She could glance at the wound on his back and see that it was given to him by the claws of a Mono Unit at a rather awkward angle. As she tied torn pieces of her blazer around his wounds so that they’d hold pressure - she only had two hands after all - she was able to get the entire story of all the brutal suffering Makoto just went through.

She had seen bodies fresh from the morgue slapped down onto a table in front of her. She had witnessed the aftermath of horrors such as slit throats and dismemberment. She had once solved a case in which she found the victim’s severed head hidden underneath the floorboards in a safe. But Makoto’s disfigured leg, mangled to the point where she wondered how it was hanging on, bone sticking out after tearing through the skin, sharp from where metal teeth caused a clean break: THIS out of everything that she had witnessed in her life was what made her want to throw up.

His arm was also rather damaged. It was hard to make out under torn fabric and blood, but it seemed more salvageable than his leg…she just needed…

"Togami. Your jacket.” Her tone was unforgiving.

“I’m working on it.” Byakuya retorted back, a hint of offence in his voice.

It’s just how he copes. She felt like her patience for Byakuya was a rubber band in her hands, slowly getting pulled in either direction.

“Work harder."

"You should be concerned with yourself.”

Deep breaths. The band was taut, shaking from force.

“Is this the best of your abilities?"

The band snapped.

"At least I’m actually doing something to help him!"

Byakuya paused midway through tearing his blazer. Byakuya thought of himself as a capable man, but all his capable talents extended only towards self preservation. The one time he wished he had the skills to help someone else he could only stand and watch. There was nothing that Byakuya hated more than being helpless. Kyoko’s words reminded him of the time Aoi slapped him back in the killing game. One of the many wake up calls Byakuya had received over the past few years.

He could remember as clear as day, the wake up call that Kyoko herself had given him back when they hated each other. His fury at being incorrect over Sakura’s death, at not understanding the case, had all been snuffed out when Kyoko told him he simply lacked any emotional capacity to understand. Kirigiri Kyoko of all people.

Hearing her remind him of his uselessness now with such a harsh tone. Well, it felt like she hated him all over again.

He was still angry. Angry that he cared, angry that he wasn’t prepared, angry that he was faltering.

"What do you expect me to do?” He demanded. He spat out the words, but his heart was desperate to be given a task.

“Make sure our emergency call earlier went through. Update the Foundation on the situation.” Right, that all made sense. How had he not seen that before? It almost made the emergency feel like a quick business move. He could handle that. Kyoko looked up from tending a wound on Makoto’s stomach, the worry in her eyes made him feel sick. “…and when you’re done, try to keep him awake."

"Keep him-? He’s awake?” The boy had been so still and silent since they’d discovered his mangled body Byakuya hadn’t even considered that possibility. Upon further inspection Byakuya realized Makoto was never still or quiet. The distance he’d kept away from the scene prevented him from hearing the panting or noticing the trembling racking his body.

A simple “yes” was all he’d gotten in response. He didn’t push or question any further though, it was clear Kyoko had a lot to focus on right now. Makoto’s life was in her hands, and neither wanted him to die like this. Kyoko could only estimate the ETA on help arriving, and she was fearing they would be too late. Memories flashed through her mind of running stitches through the skin of a banana peel during training. But she had nothing to work with, and certainly nothing sterile. Kyoko didn’t believe in God, but she prayed that an infection wouldn’t strike later.

It was looking hopeless.

“They said they’ll be here with a helicopter in half an hour."

Right. She forgot Byakuya was even there. She tied another knot over a wound. Despite her heartbeat moving her entire body with its pounding, her hands remained steady. Just like when stitching banana skin shut. Another deep breath, her hands will stay steady. Any mistake could cause an issue. Mistakes could cause browning fruit to gush between the stitches. Nothing more than an insignificant rotting pile of ruined fruit splattered and smothered against the street like-

"Don’t just stand there, ” she took another deep breath, her hands will stay steady, “keep him awake."

When Byakuya came over to take place near Makoto’s head she waited for him to pass her the tattered cloths she’d been waiting for. She ended up discovering he’d already thrown them to her side. She needed to focus more. She was by Makoto’s lower body, only half a mind paying attention to what Byakuya was doing.

Makoto had never looked so disgustingly pale before, and he was the kind of person to lose all color when frightened. His mouth was slightly parted as his breathing continued to take a toll on him. A cold sweat had begun to break out on his clammy face, with a fever glowing across his skin from the blood loss and pain. What made Byakuya the most concerned though were his eyes, half lidded and staring at nothing in particular. His eyes fluttered, but his pupils were lazily taking in the world around him as if he was trying to understand what was going on but couldn’t take hold of anything tangible.

Byakuya held a hand up and froze. He was unsure what to do, all of this was out of his element. He wanted to push it all an arm’s length away. It was a simple task. Just keep him awake. But did he know what to do? In movies he’d seen people slap others awake. But Makoto was hurt, so shouldn’t he be gentle? Why was he even fussing over the method? There was no need to hesitate. He’d touched a corpse before, he could push through any nerves to handle this.

Byakuya put a hand to his face. After an unsure pause his thumb slowly caressed the skin of his cheek in an act of comfort that Makoto probably didn’t even register.

"Naegi, can you hear me?"

There was a delay in his response, eyes heavily rolling side to side before settling on Byakuya. After the first small victory he prepared to speak, licking his lips and swallowing thickly. The delay felt like hours.

"T'gami…..kun?” Makoto’s lips felt heavy as he spoke.

There was an ache in Byakuya’s chest that he wasn’t used to, “The one and only."

Makoto let out a breathy laugh. His face turned into this familiar dopey, trusting smile that he hated and loved all at the same time. His eyes seemed to lose track of Byakuya for a moment, he tried to match where they went.

"Hey, eyes on me.” Makoto’s expression seemed to sink a little.

“W-….where's….” He sounded completely breathless and confused, “where’s Kiri…?”

“She’s right here.”

His head barely moved as he tried to see past Byakuya. Through his blurred vision he could make out that familiar lavender hue. Even with the trembling caused from blood loss he relaxed at the sight, letting out a breath when he processed. He closed his eyes, he didn’t see any reason to be scared anymore.

“Hey, don’t you dare. Open your damn eyes.” Byakuya sounded angry with him, but he was too busy basking in relief.

“You're….both ok?” His voice was barely above a whisper, if it wasn’t so quiet around them Byakuya would have to strain to hear it.

“Of course we are.” It was that rare reassuring tone from Byakuya. Short lived before the anger came back, “I believe I gave you an order did I not? Open your eyes."

To stress his point, Byakuya patted the side of Makoto’s face repeatedly and rather annoyingly. Both of them felt like they should be worried at how hard it was for him to simply open his eyes. It was like prying something off of hardened glue. Byakuya grit his teeth, he had a dreadful feeling that if Makoto closed his eyes again they wouldn’t be opening any time soon.

"ETA?” Kyoko asked bluntly.

Byakuya didn’t take his eyes off of Makoto, “five minutes haven’t even passed yet.” So, they’re both impatient then. Makoto seemed to grin a small bit hearing Kyoko’s voice.

He’s conscious, Byakuya reminded himself, which means that he can keep him awake by talking. But what the hell could he say? His mind felt blank, desperately pulling at drawers to find a single conversation topic locked away in his mind. But Makoto’s eyes were still on him. Perhaps the contact was grounding enough? But for how long? Makoto’s breathing felt heavier than before.

“Why is he breathing so hard?” He opted to talk to Kyoko instead.

“He’s lost a lot of blood."

"He’s warm.”

“He’s lost a lot of blood."

"Shouldn’t that make him cold?"

"I’d rather it not get that bad. I’m sure his hands are cold if you check.”

She was right, his hands were icy cold. Makoto’s hands always felt a little chilly compared to his. Byakuya always ran hot like a furnace while Makoto was always chilly enough to wear multiple layers (I mean, a hoodie under a blazer? Really Makoto?). But this sensation felt like there was no blood in his hands. Wasn’t that a symptom of shock? His body was prioritizing vital functions just to keep him alive. Byakuya wished he could roll Makoto onto his back and elevate his legs like he’d been taught. But he’d seen the gashes on his back. It was the only injury he really took in.

“You idiot” the words came through grit teeth, “getting yourself into a mess like this for us to clean up. Typical."

Guilt could be read on Makoto’s face for a moment. “…yeah.” Byakuya once again felt a pang in his chest. Was that really all Makoto had to say?

Kyoko managed to do something while working that made Makoto wince. Byakuya didn’t think for once, he just continued to rub slow circles across Makoto’s face.

"Hang in there.” Makoto’s face hadn’t relaxed much, still strained with all the pain he was feeling, “I do not permit you to die like this. Understood?"

Makoto groaned in response, leaning into the hand that was cupping his face. Once again his eyes lost track, doing a big loop around before snagging back onto Byakuya.

"Hurts…” he said, breath hitching as more pain shot through his body.

“You can handle this much. You’ll be fine.”

Earlier Makoto felt relaxed when Kyoko and Byakuya had arrived. Their very presence gave Makoto a hope that he’d survive this. But Byakuya’s expression had gone from angry to worried. His eyebrows were furrowed, creasing lines across his forehead. If even Byakuya was openly worried…how bad was it?

Makoto felt another harsh shiver run through his body. His face felt hot but everything else was like sharp winter air kept blowing over his skin. As the shiver travelled up his spine it caused pain to flare again. He was met with a harsh reminder to open his eyes from Byakuya. His breathing felt even heavier than before, each breath taking more effort than the last. Byakuya’s face was shifting again, but Makoto could hardly make it out through the greying swirls of dots across his vision. Ah, Byakuya looked scared. So Makoto was going to die then? The only sound he could hear was his own rabbit quick heartbeat threatening to break free from his tattered ribcage. Byakuya’s mouth was moving, but none of it made sense to Makoto. He couldn’t even read his lips. One second it was quick, then slow, like time itself was blending together into something incomprehensible.

Makoto blinked slowly.

“Naegi?” Byakuya had gone from tapping his face to shaking his shoulder. He didn’t get much else besides a distracted groan from Makoto. “Naegi, can you hear me?”

“Don’t shake him like that!” Kirigiri scolded, frustrated as she tried her best not to let the movement interfere with her work.

Byakuya felt like a life was slipping through his finger tips. His own breathing felt tight in his chest from the pure anxiety that Makoto’s unresponsiveness gave him.

“Naegi if you don’t answer me right now…” his nails dug into the boy’s shoulders.

Makoto’s eyes rolled up, dropped down, fell to the left, all as if there was a weight to it. Another slow blink. More odd drifting. Not a single response from him.

“Makoto, say something…” Byakuya ordered, pausing to watch the boy’s face; his voice was quieter than he wanted to admit. “Makoto!"

Makoto sharply inhaled at the sound. Byakuya sounded scared. Byakuya was never scared. "Nn….” Makoto frowned a little bit in worry. He felt like he was drowning, being pushed beneath thick murky water and whenever he got close enough to the surface to even understand a little bit of what was going on he was shoved back down again. He could see Byakuya look towards Kyoko for a moment and watched his expression fall.

Focus…focus. If he could just make out the words they were saying. His vision left him for a moment, greying out as his body felt weirdly numb and tingly. It wasn’t a bad feeling. If Makoto were to die here and now…he’d be happy to die next to the people he loved with this strange not-bad feeling. It was much better than bleeding out alone and in pain surrounded by the mascot that caused all this suffering in the first place. He could just drift away, and be able to die peacefully, a luxury most people didn’t get any more. If he could see his own face he was sure a weak smile played on it.

“What do you mean?!” Byakuya snapped, he glared at her out of habit.

“I mean… just look…” Kyoko’s busy hands paused momentarily to grab more fabric from the dwindling pile. Byakuya looked away from Makoto’s face and his breath caught in his throat. The limb Kyoko was working on barely resembled a leg anymore. She had done a decent job at cleaning up the wounds but it only made it more apparent how… disfigured it was. Nothing about it seemed right.

“He can’t-” the words welled up in Byakuya’s throat. He couldn’t speak the words into existence. If he did, then it would become an undeniable reality.

But Kyoko didn’t have that same hesitation, “There’s no way his leg can recover from this, and that’s without factoring in the high risk of infection.”

Byakuya’s eyes were glued to the horrific sight. Despite the sight of death becoming background noise to them all, it put a pit in his stomach. He felt disgusting. Like any second now his lunch would come back up. Look closer…it was a miracle the leg was even hanging on at all. Kyoko was right. He would lose his leg.

Makoto, just barely through the swirls of gray blurs and black spots, could see the desperation and worry on Byakuya and Kyoko’s faces. It was only a small thought in the back of his mind at first. Just a little whisper. But eventually it became bright and loud. A scream next to his ears. A new hope.

He didn’t want to die. Not like this.

He couldn’t leave Byakuya and Kyoko heartbroken. They’d drown in the despair. Letting their trusted friend, their partner in survival, die after doing everything they could to try and save him? It would be heartbreaking. But Makoto couldn’t even make out the color of sky anymore. He couldn’t move his fingers. He didn’t know if it was possible for him to get out of this one alive, but he wouldn’t spend his last moments watching people he loves suffer.

“ ‘s… ok…y …gami” Makoto’s tongue felt like lead and moved sluggishly in his mouth. Byakuya wished he could take any form of comfort from the broken sentence.

The fever from Makoto’s face had gone cold, leaving him with all his blood washed pale skin on full display. Byakuya had to pause to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t talk like that, you moron. I know what you’re trying to do.” and he did. Byakuya knew that Makoto was trying to make himself and Kyoko more at ease. Even while walking on a tightrope between life and death the bot still wanted to make sure his friends were okay. Byakuya felt rigid in a mixture of irritation and worry.

“It… d’sn’t hur.. nymore…’s okay."

The words made cold fear run down Byakuya’s spine. He clenched his fists, glaring down at Makoto like he’d insulted him. But his voice was weak, "I told you to stop…"

"Really…I pr…mise…’s not going to be bad…"

Byakuya grinded down on his teeth with enough force to hurt his jaw. He exhaled harshly, ignoring Makoto’s words and turning to Kyoko, "Will you hurry up and save him already?!"

"I’m doing my best! There’s not much I can do!"

”’re both… really strong… you c’n overcome …‘nything…” Makoto felt a lump in his throat, he wanted to make it seem like everything was gonna be fine, but he knew that no matter what he said… Byakuya and Kyoko were smart. They were smart enough to know he was lying through his teeth. Maybe it was more for him than for them at this point.

“Dammit Makoto if you don’t stop fucking talking that-!“

"Tha…’s why I know….you’ll be okay…” He struggled to speak, tongue heavy as lead, and still he tried to make the words clear as possible. He was afraid, he didn’t want to go, not now. There were so many things left that he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do. He wanted to tell the two people in front of him how much he cared about them but all he could do was watch as their distress increased. His vision started to fade and he wanted to scream for it to come back. He struggled to breath.

“Makoto!"

Byakuya took Makoto’s face in his hands again. The light in Makoto’s eyes were completely gone, unable to properly process the world around him. Despite Byakuya’s pleas steadily becoming more and more desperate for Makoto to stay awake, he slipped through his fingers like sand. With his eyes drifting to the right, Makoto fell away from the world.

And both of them felt it with their own hands. They felt the exact moment Makoto lost consciousness for what could very well be the last time. They both stood there frozen in shock. Byakuya still had his hands on Makoto’s face, just watching as if any second he’d open up his eyes again and apologize for scaring them. Kyoko had her hands up, mid-wrapping wounds. She just stared blankly, unable to grapple with the idea that all her work may have been for nothing.

They sat in silence. No one moved.

It felt like gravity had increased, time had slowed down to a crawl and even the gentle whistling of the wind felt subdued and gentle, as if even it didn’t want to disturb them. Neither wanted to be the first to move. If they were to move, what were they even supposed to do? Both of their minds seemed to cloud. Was it even worth it to move? Was there even a point? There was too much to process, too many unanswered questions. Too many calls to feelings that would be left unanswered. And yet the world kept spinning sluggishly as if nothing had happened at all.

"Check…” Kyoko felt some clarity dig into her skull, sharp like a breath of cold air, “check his pulse."

"Huh?"

"Check his pulse…! Now!"

They both jumped into action. Kyoko grabbed Makoto’s wrist, pressing two fingers into the pulseline with enough force to bruise. It was manic and ineffective. She didn’t even think about how she had her gloves on, she just needed to know now. Byakuya was pressing his fingers into Makoto’s cold neck again and again. He kept missing the pulse point and getting impatient when he felt nothing.

When they found it, they both sunk back with relief. They could have passed out from the rush of realization. It was weak, and way way too fast, but it was something dammit. He wasn’t gone yet. With a shaky yet confident breath, Kyoko got back to work, hands trembling ever so slightly. Enough for Byakuya to notice, but not enough to comment on.

Byakuya slowly let go of Makoto’s neck. He dragged himself back to give Kyoko space. The pick up would be here soon. In an effort to keep contact with Makoto and stay out of Kyoko’s way, Byakuya positioned himself so that he could rest the boy’s head in his lap. He wouldn’t be caught dead in this position on any other day but in the moment that didn’t matter. He occasionally glanced up at Kyoko to watch her work, but stayed focused on Makoto. If Makoto woke up he was going to be right there and this time he wouldn’t let him slip away again.

The pick up was almost there.

#danganronpa #naegirigami #naegamigiri #makoto naegi #byakuya togami #kyoko kirigiri #fic #bear trap #whump #request fill #naegiri #naegami #dr:thh #dr3 #dr 3 #fanfic

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vivisextion · 3 years

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I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

#Joey Jordison #Slipknot #Murderdolls

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emersonfreepress · 3 years

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ok ok in the spirit of community, how would the ros fair in a paintball war?

(referring to this ask! like the zombie au post this ended up making me think a lot 😅)

ohh... interesting, interesting... p sure the only paintball wars i’ve really seen were the ones featured in The League, Peep Show, and Community... but let me wrack my lil head...

ok, i ended up coming at this from multiple angles like the zombie au post 😅 always so much to consider in battle environments! and in the spirit of community, I'll stick with the individual player elimination style paintball match. in the woods with other e prep seniors. last one standing wins bragging rights

Gabe

Shooting skill | 6/10 - Experience with shooting and practice with Kile ofc

Stealthiness | 8/10 - He's done a fair amount of sneaking around during his after school activities, is super observant (or just paranoid lol), and naturally light on his feet. Good luck ambushing him.

Strategy | 8/10 - Strike deals. Do favors. Form alliances. Shoot 'em in the back once they’ve outlived their usefulness. ...What? It’s just paintball.

How does he win? | Graciously. Gabe likes winning, and especially via strategic manipulation, so it puts a smile on his face. And he's in a good mood so he treats a bunch of you to ice cream or smth 👀

How does he lose? | Slumps in frustration at being outwitted or taken off-guard, sulks about it for a little while. He's not that sore of a loser but needs time to lick his wounds and stop thinking of the different choices he could have made.

Kile

Shooting | 9 - The most accurate shooter of the cast and easily one of the best shots at E Prep. Lots of practice + talent

Stealth | 10 - They're stupid good at climbing trees and 100% consider that a valid method of ambushing their classmates. People start having flashbacks to 3rd and 4th grade recess and P.E. Scanning the trees. They just start taking people out with such efficiency it quickly starts ruining the game 😂

Strategy | 0? 10?? - “...Strategy? You just stay out of sight and kill 'em all, right?” (immediately scolded by Gabe for word choice 🙄) They really do mainly stay out of sight and pick people off with max stealth, like 😆 they'd be such a terror, people would need to take them out early for anyone else to stand a chance! They spend a lot of the game staking out the most frequented paths in the area and taking out groups quickly, all at once. Then they'll get around to stalking and picking people off one by one. The real fun...

Winner type | Stoic. Likes winning combat but the stakes were non-existent, so... the win is meaningless! this just infuriates the losers more 😅 such disrespect

Loser type | Sucks their teeth and tosses their paintball gun to the ground. "Y'all suck." (they're over it five mins later tho lol)

Jack

Shooting | 3 - This is nothing like shooting light guns... ☹️

Stealth | 5 - Not just due to his size making him an easier target, but homeboy is liable to get distracted by a cute squirrel or some pretty flowers 😂 He's not great at keeping his voice down either so good conversation would make him easy to seek out. He's just out here enjoying a beautiful day 😅

Strategy | 7 - All that movie-watching (and DMing) make him a valuable creative mind for problem-solving, but he needs a cooperative team to be effective. Rescued and recruited by Rupan/Rohan early on in the game ^ ^

Winner type | Disbelief! And everyone’s content and satisfied with him winning. Except Vivian/Vincent, that jealous fool

Loser type | Doesn't mind losing at all! He just hopes he was a good teammate and was glad to have fun ☺️

Jessie

Shooting | 7 - Comes from a family of hunters, girly knows how to shoot.

Stealth | 6 - Familiar enough with woods and stalking prey to be capable of sneaking around. Having too much fun to not giggle and get overly invested in the developing plot of the game. Even more easily distracted by critters and flora than Jack 😅

Strategy | 5 - Oh, she's just here to have fun. She'll go with whatever the person she's teaming up with decides, but can adapt easily enough.

Winner type | Surprised... then elated! Bouncing and happy and it's completely contagious. No hard feelings about a single thing. Convinces Heidi to invite people to the Emerson Estate—it's a hot day and they have a nice pool

Loser type | Same as Jack! Congratulates the winner with a hug because she's sweet like that 🧁

Rain

Shooting | 2 - This... thing is so cumbersome. And ugly. At least it shoots pretty colors.

Stealth | 7 - Small and used to sneaking around different environments and seeking out hiding spots. Their height and frame makes them harder to spot too.

Strategy | 4 - Hide!!! They’re not getting assaulted with paint and pellets!! Especially not after managing to make this ugly jumpsuit look cute?? Waiting it out is perfectly legitimate. Might share snacks if you decide to join them in hiding 😆

Winner type | Falls asleep in an unexpectedly cozy hiding spot and emerges as everyone thought they’d declared the winner. I imagine R and others yelling at them to get their gun while the original winner scrambles to get theirs, just for Rain to win by pure luck of the draw. Won’t stop them bragging about it, though! (I want this spurned runner-up to be Vi bc ofc)

Loser type | "So I can stop holding this thing?" Yawn. "I'm so hungry and bored, we've been at this for hours..."

Rupan/Rohan

Shooting | 4 - Ah, shit. These don't shoot anything like light guns.

Stealth | 7 - They sneak out and around town a lot 😂 They just force themself to be careful about how loud grass and bushes are.

Strategy | 7 - They’re treating this shit like an action movie and banding together a ragtag team of misfits to take down the strongest alliances and players. Savvy enough to reject Gabe’s and Curt’s offers to join, not opposed to strategic backstabs. They're very clearly just as focused on having fun as they are on winning—and playing Predator, which honestly works with Kile runnin around. They even brought war paint and borrowed a tactical vest. Is it mostly packed with snacks and weed? Maybe. Does it prove useful for negotiations? Hell yeah.

Winner type | Raucous celebration, just pure joy and adrenaline ☺️ Celebrates with their team, brags a bit, rubs it into Vi's face, makes fun of Curt, the usual. Then invites allies out to get pizza because it's the obvious next step

Loser type | Mostly disappointed they can't keep playing. They're a little sore about being left out of the action, but soon just start chatting with other marked players about how the game went for them. Plenty entertaining on its own, they want all the details

Vivian/Vincent

Shooting | 5 - They've got a little bit of shooting experience.

Stealth | 4 - They're overly sensitive and hate being in nature. Their skin is sticky, they keep feeling bugs everywhere, they've gotten dirt all over their pants, it's so hot, they keep WALKING into SPIDERWEBS, [flails about, screaming furiously]

Strategy | 8 - They have good ideas, they're just difficult to execute alone, especially since they're getting sunburnt and getting crankier and can't stop swatting at insects 😅 they're one of the first people to figure out that someone's taking out groups from the trees, so they stay solo and try to find a single person to team up with. Really what they need is someone who's a better shot but easy to boss around. They can probably just owe them for an in-school favor...

Winner type | Barely suppressed gloating. Vi somehow finds a way to be an obnoxious winner almost entirely by the look on their face. Once they're in a smaller group, they're passionately discussing the details of the game and happily boasting about their triumphs (while glossing over all of the whining and and slip-ups lol)

Loser type | Booo, such a sore loser. (Especially in the scenario where Rain wins 🤣) If they're outsmarted or outgunned in a clear, transparent way they'll growl and stomp off, then quietly glower and sulk for way too long. If they're double-crossed or beaten in an underhanded way oh lord —they're fighting it to the end. R can't help but get involved either way, reminding them it was a damn game with literally no prize. "C'mon, Vi, chill. You want ice cream? Let's get you ice cream."

Heidi

Shooting | 6 - Some shooting experience.

Stealth | 8 - She's very aware of her surroundings and her body. Perceptive yet quiet. Tactical. All residual traits picked up from her many activities over the years.

Strategy | 9 - Most likely to outsmart everyone. The first one to figure out groups are being targeted from the trees. Goes it alone and only open to trading (unless she sees Curt with Jess in which case she puts a quick pin in her plans to rescue her 😂). She also immediately figures out it's Kile, because ofc it is. Keeps close tabs on what groups are doing, knowing that eventually Kile will come down to ground level to pick off individuals and couples. Predator becomes prey 👀

Winner type | Proud but not boasting. She doesn't need to be. Victory looks good on her, natural and fitting. Thanks everyone for a good game then takes the girls for a long ride in the Cadillac 😎 top down on a bright day, baby

Loser type | Damn. She should have won this. Maybe if she'd... She probably could have... Then she snaps out of it, roped in by the celebratory mood of congratulating the winner. She's over any feelings of frustration or regret after getting to discuss the match with the person that took her out/the winner and there's no hard feelings. If anything this was fun as hell, it should be an annual thing. ☺️

Curt

Shooting | 8 - Some shooting experience and a natural knack for it. Good reflexes.

Stealth | 8 - Curt likes to say he gets along with the woods around these parts. Sneaking around is second nature to him. Really good hearing too. He's an easy target if you manage to seduce him though, having no issue leaving himself vulnerable if it means that kind of fun 😂

Strategy | 7 - Honestly, he's most interested in seeing how long he can get away with using charm and seduction for both protection and double-crossing 😂 Eventually becomes persona non grata and gets all of his ammo stolen by a vengeful mark, barely getting away in the process. Since that jig is up, he finally starts thinking a win might be nice... and so he teams up with the only competent player who would never betray him and also inspires the least vitriol in others: Jessie. What? Is his back-up plan using her as a human shield? No! 😚 Of course not! 👉👈

Winner type | Insufferable and gloating. Rubs it in a lot of people's faces, specifically Heidi, Rupan/Rohan, and any participants who genuinely don't like him. Brags to Gabe (who is completely disinterested in gassing him up 😂), then promises he'll make things up to Jessie (who didn't mind and had fun lol). Then celebrates by asking whoever he's flirting with these days for a quick date—and a ride in the Ferrari. Makes a scene pulling out of the parking lot. Ass.

Loser type | Doesn't care one bit as long as he had fun! And he always finds a way to have fun, it's why he's so carefree 😅

#lovely anon #answered #ROs #scenarios #someone pls confirm that kile is using paint pellets thx #I can totally see myself writing this out as a an actual short story 😂#maybe as a kofi reward whenever I get that set up 🤞🏾#I don't think any of these are incomplete...

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evolutionsvoid · 3 years

Photo

When you see the flamboyant duo walking through the door, you begin to count the seconds before you throw them out. Of all the folk to enter your tavern, be it thugs, drunks or beggars, none are as miserable to deal with than musicians. Minstrels and songwriters, the absolute bane of your existence. Full of pride and empty of coin, they stroll into your bar like they own the place and then think their talent can pay for food and drink. You learned your lesson the first few times, letting them fill their bellies then finding they don't have a cent to pay for it. But of course they can sing and dance, isn't that enough? To fill your tavern with that wretched caterwauling, driving you and your paying customers crazy and then pretend that is just as good as gold. As fun as it is to let your regulars rough them up after failing to pay up, it still doesn't gain you a single coin. They aren't joking about being penniless, most of those awful prancing fools have nothing in their pockets or head. You would put out a sign banning them from your premises, but you just know they would ignore it. Surely, that is meant for the bad musicians, and not for perfect little me. So when they walk in now, you lay down the rules right then and there. Money up front, and not a drop of drink or speck of food til coins are on the table. They will give the same sorry excuse each time, and then offer to entertain in order to pay their bill. And the answer to that, every time, is an absolute "no." Pay now or you'll be eating your instruments instead. A threat like that and a few mean looks from your regulars is usually enough to shoo them away. Usually. Of course the pair that prances through your door have a bit more spine to them. They pay no mind to the threat or the nasty looks. They instead choose to insist that they could play to fix their money woes, but you aren't having it. So instead they go a different route. They decide to challenge you and everyone in the bar to a bet, which already piques your curiosity. These fancy folk rarely have such courage, so you humor them and hear them out. They offer to play a single song for the crowd and then let your patrons decide their fate. They believe their music is so good, that your customers will happily pay for their meal and mead. If the song ends and the audience isn't wooed, though, then they will hand over their instruments and lend their bodies as punching bags. It is a bizarre bet, one that seems impossible to win for them, but they insist. They speak highly of their talent and music, on how everyone is enraptured when they strike their chords. In fact, they were just in La'Frel just last week and the entire town fell in love with their song! Their performance was legendary, it shook that town to its very core and every soul alive went crazy just hearing their melody! They hype themselves up just like every other jester that walks in here, but their bet leaves you intrigued. They have set out a deal they couldn't possibly win, so why do they think things will swing in their favor? You know your regulars, and you know what they like to hear. Surely these fools couldn't win them over, so a beat down is inevitable! And if they do win, then there is still money to be made, just out of someone else's pocket. Thankfully it won't be yours, so you give in and accept this strange bet. Your customers swear and jeer at the fancy fools as they get into position and ready their instruments. The hoots, hollers and flying mugs seem to signal your inevitable victory, as this crowd would never give into these kind of folk. All you have to do is wait, and victory will surely be yours. When the music starts, it hits like a lightening bolt. As much as you hate their grinning faces and goofy getup, they sure know how to start a show. The first note strikes your heart like a hammer to an anvil, and your veins practically pulse to the melody. You never heard a tune like this, and it feels like one you'll never forget. It is pretty good, and rather catchy too. Even your rowdy customers are showing interest in this performance. Their yelling and mockery has fallen silent, replaced with stomping boots and clapping hands. They sure seem to be enjoying it, and you have to admit you are starting to really like it too. The music feels like it is flowing through your body, and your heart is following along with the rhythm. Before you know it, you are clapping along too and getting caught up in the fun. The beat is getting louder and louder, but it only makes it more exciting. Your customers are now out of their seats and on their feet, dancing and thrashing to the song as the two musicians wail and writhe onstage. You feel like you are about to leap over your own bar to join them, but something briefly flashes in the back of your mind. La'Frel, that town that is a couple leagues down the way. You didn't think about it when they first brought it up, but now something in your brain itches at the sound of it. One of your suppliers is based in La'Frel, and they were the ones who were late on the delivery. You haven't heard from them about the missing drop off, which is a bit odd. Now that you think of it, some of your usual customers are from that town and you haven't seen them in a bit. When was the last time? Over a week ago? The memory slips from your mind as the music grows louder in your skull. No time to worry about those details now. The music is flowing, the party is going and you are ready to dive right in. The crowd screams and flails as the melody reaches a fevered pitch. These musicians have earned their meal tonight, that is for sure... ------------------------------------------------------- “Two Completely Normal Musicians” Just a dumb doodle here. Was thinking about the demonic band, mainly the goofball duo of Miserel and Agored. Obviously the two go on their own from time to time to hunt for prey, getting a lot of fun from the whole bloody song and dance, and thought how they would disguise themselves. Of course Miserel is already human-shaped with human-like features, but what of Agored? This was just a fun "what-if?" As well as the confirmation that I am really bad at drawing humans.

#monster #musician #art #drawing #demonic band

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Gabriel Agreste Must Die

I have no idea what inspired this but I just thought this would be funny. It Salt towards Gabriel. So enjoy. Warning Gaslighting ahead

Nino never thought that, out of everyone in the entire world, he would be the one to figure out Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth. Granted, it wasn’t like he had done he any searched or used any expert detective or journalism skills. No, instead he had been hanging out at Marinette’s; getting his butt handed to him in Ultimate Mecha Strike III. Alya chilling as she scrolled through her phone. Chloe, who they somehow managed to become friends with, was taking selfies in Marinette’s newest design outfits.

Nino knew it was because the blonde had proven herself to be a good hero and loyal ally. So when Marinette, the new Guardian now that Fu was gone, that more permanent heroes were needed, she brought in Chloe, along with Nino and Alya. It was then that Ladybug and Chat Noir revealed their identities to them and to each other.

It had been one hell of a shock. But they all became really good friends. Though any crushes the original heroes had died. It turned out Marinette thought of Chat Noir as a brother. And Adrien just couldn’t see Marinette in that light. It was for the best. Alya had been pissed about the love square thing.

That had been over a year ago, and the heroes had all become really good friends; banding together against anyone (Lila or Gabriel) who tried to tear them apart.

They had been talking about the recent akuma attacks, when Nino got a text from Adrien apologizing for not being able to hang out.

“Adrien can’t come,” Nino glared at the screen. “His dad’s got him working late.”

“Again?” Alya asked. “He does know what child labor laws are right?”

Chloe scoffed, “Like he cares.”

“Still, we should do something,” Marinette frowned as she rapidly pressed buttons on her controller. “This isn’t right.”

“Like what?” Nino asked, already gracefully accepting yet another defeat. “He’s Gabriel Agreste. He’s as big of an asshole as Hawkmoth; and I didn’t think that was possible.”

As soon as he said those words, something just clicked. Everyone in the room suddenly paused as they processed the words in their minds.

Nino slowly put down her controller, “It’s not possible, is it? That level of asshole-dom can’t possibly be reached by two different people in the same city, at the same time, in the same universe. There’s no way.”

“Even my mom left once Gabriel took power,” Chloe added. “And she’s a total bitch but she knew that Paris couldn’t handle both a Queen Bitch and the King of the Assholes fighting it out.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed as she considered everything they knew about hawkmoth and Gabriel Agreste, “When did Adrien say he last saw mom.”

“Three years ago,” Chloe answered. “Sometime near the end of January, I remember. It was before Valentine’s day as I had been planning yet another amazing party.”

“Alya, when was the first akuma attack?” Marinette asked.

“One sec, I’ll look,” The glasses-wearing girl said and as she frantically researched. When Alya was done, she looked up at them with a dark expression on her face. “February 4th, three years ago.”

“Gabriel has a book on Kwami,” Marinette told them. “He uses it for ‘inspiration.’”

After that, suddenly they were recalling all the little ‘coincidences’ they overlooked involving anything Agreste related and Hawkmoth; it all added up to something no one could deny.

“Gabriel is Hawkmoth,” Alya whispered stunned. “Adrien’s dad is Hawkmoth. We always said Gabriel was a monster but damn, really?”

“What do we do?” Chloe asked. “What can we do? Hawkmoth is too powerful; especially with Mayura on his side.”

Marinette nodded but there was a thoughtful look on his face, “Hawkmoth is strong but Gabriel is human like the rest of us. He has his flaws, his weaknesses; cracks in his facade.”

“Mom always said Gabriel was nuts,” Chloe said. “On the edge of his sanity. One good push…”

Marinette shrugged, “If we can’t defeat the villain…”

“…Then we break the man behind the mask,” Alya smirked,

Nino growled, “Gabriel Agreste Must Die.”

…

The next day after school; the heroes met up again at Marinette and sat Adrien down to talk.

It turned getting Adrien on board with the plan was difficult. He wasn’t hard to convince him that Gabriel was Hawkmoth, though it did take a while for him to stop throwing up. However, there was thing the blond boy wouldn’t budge on…

“You’re not killing my dad!” Adrien told them.

Nino nodded calmly and folded his hands on his lap, “I get where you’re coming from, dude. I totally do,” He told his best friend. “But hear me out. Your dad? He really sucks.”

Adrien shot his friends an incredulous look, “And you think that’s a good enough reason to kill him?”

“Well, yeah,” Nino shrugged. “I mean we talked about this before.”

Alya pushed her ex-boyfriend turned one of her bestie out of the way, “You’re dad is a megalomaniac magical terrorist that’s been destroying Paris, turning people into monsters, and killing innocents. Sure the damaged gets reversed but the victims, who aren’t Akumatized, still have to deal with the freaking trauma.”

“There are support groups for it,” Marinette said. “People remember dying; drowning, burning, crashing; it’s terrible.” She sighed, “However, we can’t just murder someone. It’s wrong.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It would be wrong not kill him,” Chloe told them. “The amount of time and effort it would save us is nearly too much to count. And the amount of relief all of Paris would feel knowing he was gone is out of this world. We can stop SO many people from getting hurt if I call my mom’s guy Fredro, and Gabriel has a little ‘accident’.”

Nino shot up, “See! Chloe agrees,” He shot a victorious look at Alya and Marinette.

Alya snorted, “Chloe thought burning Gabriel at the stake was good idea.”

“What?!!” Adrien looked at his oldest friend, shock on his face. “What?!!”

Chloe shrugged, “There’s no such thing as a bad idea. And It was a suggestion..”

“A good one,” Nino added. “And why does it sound like your mom has a hitman on speed dial?”

Chloe scoffed, “Hitman? Don’t be so crass. Fredro is former MI6. My mom used to work with him. He’s so good even Shield only had the slightest idea he exists.” She looked at her childhood friend with a softest expression anyone had ever seen on her face. “No one would ever know. If you want, he doesn’t even have to feel like a thing. Gabriel goes to sleep one night, and doesn’t wake up in the morning. It’ll look like a heart attack. Trust me, my mother only works with the best.”

“I have a lot of questions about your mother,” Alya said. “And what type of work she did with a former MI6 agent. But we’re gonna circle back to that. That fact is, Adrien, it’s up to you.”

“He’s your dad,” Marinette agreed. “Plus; its two to two. Me and Alya who don’t want to go to prison. And the two psychos who are more than willing to.”

Nino huffed and moved to stand next to Chloe, “Well, I’m feeling a little called out right now.”

“I told you we should’ve just handled this last night,” Chloe crossed her arms. “Just the two us. Ditch the Halos at home,” She motioned to Marinette, who didn’t like the idea of killing, and Alya, who didn’t want to make the choice with Adrien’s approval. “Bury that asshole alive.”

“Nah, they’d have known it was us,” Nino shook his head. “The second Gabriel doesn’t show up for something he’s supposed to, Marinette’s knocking on my door. I’m always a suspect. Gabriel nearly got killed by a falling headlight during a fashion show in New York, and Alya still gave me suspicious looks for days. Jerk’s literally on the other side of the world, and I’m still the primary suspect.”

Chloe looked contemplative, “…Didn’t you say you had a cousin in New York?”

“You a cop?” Nino asked. “No? Then stop asking so many questions.”

Adrien sighed, “I’m sorry, guys; we can’t kill my dad.”

Alya nodded firmly, “Then option two. We’re rip apart his sanity, destroy his reputation; tear apart everything that makes Gabriel Agreste, Gabriel Agreste until there’s nothing left except the miserable, sorry excuse for man and father, that he really is.”

“Oh but I’m inhumane?” Nino glared. “I was just gonna cut the breaks in Gabriel’s ride. Take him and Nathalie out at the same time. But, yeah, sure, breaking him to the point where he’s ripping out his own hair and locked away in a padded room is a noble cause as any.”

“And yet we’re the evil ones? Really?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s gaslight the bitch.”

Adrien looked up at the ceiling just so freaking done with world. “What we do first?”

“Your dad’s a total control freak,” Alya said. “We got to make him feel like he’s losing control.”

Marinette looked over Adrien, “You’re gonna need tight leather pants, chapstick… And how do feel about piercings?”

“That they look like they hurt!” Adrien protested.

Chloe shoved his shoulder, “Beauty’s pain, woman up!”

“Why do I need chapstick?” Adrien whined.

“You can’t make out with Scott with dry lips!”

“Make out?” Adrien’s face turned bright red. “And who’s Scott?”

Nino shook his head, “You’re asking a lot of questions for someone who was against the Murder plan.”

It turned out Scott was Marinette’s cousin. His mom Melissa was Tom’s half-sister. He was handsome tall sixteen-year-old with olive brown skin, curly dark brown hair, and a crooked jaw. When Adrien met him he was wearing a leather jacket and big happy smile on his face. Adrien couldn’t stop looking at him.

He had come out as bisexual to his friends months ago but had only briefly experimented with Luka in the kissing department. Marinette had stumbled upon and quickly squeaked, turned red, and scampered off. Though Adrien did have to deal with her grumbles about having dips. To which Adrien replied, “You snooze, you lose.”

Scott was with a brown haired, pale skinned, gangly guy, with lots moles and a rather pretty redhead.

“Oh come on!” The pale guy complained when he saw Adrien. He looked at Scott. “What leprechaun did you sacrifice so that you got the fucking luck in the world? First the Disney princess Alison, then badass ‘she could stab me and I’d thank her’ Kira, and now Apollo’s freaking love child. No! It’s not fair.”

“Dude!” Scott complained. “Stiles, you’re dating Derek.”

Stiles suddenly looked really smug, “Yeah I know,” He smirked. “But this isn’t about us. This is about all the other Scotts and Stiles’ of the world who are still growing out of their loser stage. Give them a chance, bro.”

The redhead rolled her eyes, “Hi I’m Lydia!” She introduced to the young heroes. “The loud moron is Stiles. The moron who’s been drooling since he saw you is Scott.”

Scott reared back, and started to quick wipe his mouth, “Man, am I drooling?”

“A little,” Stiles shrugged. “I just thought it was moon thing, you know?”

Lydia ignored them, “I love your dress. It’s an MDC, yes? Up in coming designer, so chic!”

Marinette smiled, “Thanks. It took forever to design this.”

The redhead paused, “You designed?” She looked stunned for a moment before glaring at Scott. “Is your cousin MDC? Did you not tell me your cousin was MDC?”

It was a little hilarious how quickly Scott stepped back in fear of girl a foot shorter than him.

“About why we’re here,” Alya decided to intervene before blood was drawn. “Adrien, this is Scott. He’ll be your boyfriend for as long as he’s Paris.” She looked between Scott and Adrien and smirked. “And I have no idea who I should congratulate.”

“Me,” Scott let slip as he stared at Adrien in a daze.

Pictures of Adrien Agreste making out with Scott were everywhere an hour later. Adrien tweeted his response, “I’m Bisexual. So what? To quote Taylor Swift: You need to Calm down.”

The tweet was the first thing that made Gabriel realize something was very, very wrong.

Adrien went home and was met the angry expressions of his father and Nathalie. It was time for step to.

Before either could yell at him. “I quit,” Adrien said. “No more modeling. No more anything I don’t want to do. This is not up for debate. I’m not asking. You can’t make me. And if you try to take me out of school; my friends will public with all the evidence of all times you broke child labors. And if you think I’m bluffing, a copy of the evidence was sent to Nathalie’s email.” He gave them hard looks. “You will go to prison. Try me. It’s over,” Adrien told them but didn’t add that it was in more ways that one.

He walked passed them; only sparing a glance to see the stunned looks on their faces.

Adrien knew his father wouldn’t back down. This was only the beginning.

Unfortunately for Gabriel, he would be far too busy putting out the fires of his burning empire to have any time to rein back in his son.

During the middle of the night, while everyone was sleeping, an anonymous user *cough Alya* released videos of Gabriel verbally berating his employees for the smallest things, and firing them. It was not a good look.

The Gabriel brand took a hit. The first of many.

Over the next few weeks; Gabriel found himself forgetting things. First he found a box of imported silk that Nathalie swore he called her himself to have her order, and he saw the call logged in his phone but for the life of him he couldn’t remember making the call. Then it was scheduling meetings, ordering lunches or coffee that he couldn’t remember doing. Then he forgot where put things.

For example, one time Gabriel swore he took out his sketchbook from his briefcase and sat it on his desk and left for a meeting. However, when he returned, it wasn’t there. And He nearly went raving mad trying to find it. Only for Nathalie to take it out of his brief case.

The suit he had laid out for him the night before would be an entirely different color than the one he remembered putting out but then Nathalie would tell him that he ordered her himself to have it pressed.

It was little thing and big little just slightly out of place that started to grate on his nerves.

“The stress,” Nathalie told him. “It’s getting to you. Perhaps a vacation is in order”

“I’m fine,” He waved her off. “How is the plan to pull Adrien back in?

Nathalie frowned, “Nothing. He’s still going strong with his boyfriend, a young Scott McCall. Every time we try anything, a new video of Adrien, uh, at work, is released to the media. CPS and the police knocked on our doors three times already. Next time, I fear, they may take him. Amelie Graham de Vanily has been spotted in town, speaking with several lawyers. My sources say she will attempt for custody if CPS deems you unfit.”

“Nothing of the sort will happen,” Gabriel sneered. “I will not lose my son; not to my sister in law, and not to some American boy. Tell Adrien, we will have dinner together. I will talk some sense into him myself.”

That was his plan at least.

However, Gabriel found himself waking up in the morning, in his pajamas, utterly confused. “Nathalie, when did I go sleep?”

She looked confused, “Around midnight, sir. You had dinner with Adrien, and then had to rush off to take a call from Audrey.”

“I… had dinner with Adrien?” Gabriel asked. “Are you sure? I don’t remember. And I didn’t talk with Audrey, did i?”

Nathalie suddenly looked very concerned. “Sir, I was there. Adrien and you had a lovely conversation about his school and him going back to modeling. Adrien decline. You tried to protest but Audrey called. You two argued for an hour. I was there the entire time. You really don’t remember?”

No, Gabriel didn’t.

A week later, after a series of incidents. One of which apparently he had ordered Nathalie to take him to a salon and walked out with blue hair, but couldn’t remember when he woke up the next day. And swore he hadn’t.

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with doctor,” Nathalie told him. “We’re going to get you looked at, okay.”

It was the first of many, many doctor visits. Until one day Adrien came home and His aunt was there with Nathalie. They told him that his father went on a little “vacation” for a while.

It turned out the vacation was a very luxurious mental institution.

#ml fic #ml salt #gabriel agreste salt #marinette dupain cheng #adrien deserves better #adrien agreste #alya sugar #nino sugar

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pindaleng · 3 years

Link

Merry Pitchmas @anotherbechloeshipper !!

Had so much fun writing this one, hope you enjoy it :)

Title: In From the Snow

Pairing: Bechloe

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2943

Summary: Beca didn’t anticipate making many friends her freshman year, much less become best friends with one Chloe Beale. When a snow storm ruins both their plans to travel home, they get to spend some quality time together. Beca thinks this might be her best chance to tell the other girl how she feels.

Read on AO3 or below.

Beca stared gloomily at the large flakes falling outside her dorm window.

There was no way her old Camry would be able drive more than ten miles an hour in these conditions. The forecast said “heavy snow”, but she didn’t realize it’d be this bad.

She totally would have left a few days earlier if she didn’t have a final scheduled for the absolute last day of the semester. It’s not like she was super excited about heading back home either, but she knew her dad and step mom would give her shit for it.

She sighed. Might as well text them now to rip off that band-aid.

Shortly after she sent the message, she heard a knock on her opened door.

“Hey, you’re still here!”

In the doorway stood Chloe Beale, undoubtedly the coolest person on their dorm floor. Beca (to her surprise) got along with most of the people on her floor, but something about Chloe specifically drew her in.

Admittedly, she found the other girl annoying at first, as she seemed like the high school girls that were fake nice just to talk about you behind your back. She soon learned, though, that Chloe was the real deal.

But not of course before giving her a hard time for a couple of months. Frustratingly, but thankfully, Chloe was incredibly persistent. Beca hadn’t really expected to make so many friends, intending to keep her head down and make her way through, but everyone grew on her. Especially Chloe.

“Yeah, unfortunately still here.” Beca replied. “Wanted to drive out today but doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen.”

Chloe invited herself in and hopped onto Beca’s bed. She hummed in understanding. “I just got back from the store and driving was for sure a struggle. Definitely would not recommend.”

“Great. You’re staying here too, then?”

“Yep! Which means you get to spend time with little ol’ me.” She propped her head on her hands. “Any plans for the day?”

There wasn’t really a Plan B since she didn’t expect her driving-back-home Plan A to not work out. “Not really, probably just gonna work on some mixes.”

“Can I join?”

“Yes, please make it a little less sad that I’m stuck here on Christmas Eve.”

“Sweet, I’ll be back.” Chloe slid off the bed and make her way out the room. “Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Beca just rolled her eyes and started setting up her laptop.

Chloe came back moments later with her sketchbook and colored pencils, and settled on Beca’s roommate’s bed. Both of them were friends with Stacie, so they knew she wouldn’t mind her bed being used.

They passed time peacefully like this for a couple of hours, each doing their separate thing.

Beca was so engrossed in her music that she doesn’t notice Chloe call out her name until the other girl waved at her to get her attention.

She slipped off her headphones. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking about getting some food soon. You in?”

The hunger hit her stomach now that food was mentioned. “Yeah, I could eat. Where at?” Though the dorms stayed open, dining halls were closed. There were plenty of places nearby though, and many of whom delivered. They went back and forth suggesting restaurants until Chloe looked like she had an epiphany. “We should go to that new ramen place!”

Beca’s immediate reaction was to pout, as they didn’t deliver. Chloe laughed.

“Oh come on, it’s a five minute walk, max. You big baby.” Chloe playfully poked her cheek. “Plus it’s super pretty outside.”

“And it’s super warm inside.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m going with or without you.”

The ultimatum was effective. Beca grumbled but put her coat on anyways. The reluctance was really just all show, as she would probably walk naked into a freezing lake for the other girl.

Snow was steadily falling outside, blanketing all the surfaces in a thick layer of white. Campus was quiet, as most of the students had already left for the holidays. It was both eerie and calming. The absence of drunk frat guys yelling, though, was definitely a plus.

“Okay I admit, it is pretty outside.” But you’re prettier. The automatic thought was so cheesy she almost threw up a bit in her mouth. Since when did she think such gross things? She could practically see Stacie smirking annoyingly at her.

Chloe grinned in victory, and Beca’s heart swooped.

Her brain definitely wasn’t lying though: Chloe was undoubtedly beautiful. The snowflakes in Chloe’s hair contrasted perfectly with the red color, making her look like some sort of magazine model. It felt kind of unfair that she could exist like that and not know what she was doing to poor Beca’s soul.

—

When the waitress asked if they needed one or two checks, Chloe replied “just one” before Beca could get a word in.

As the waitress walked away, Beca sent a questioning look to the redhead.

Chloe shrugged, “It’s easier for them to just run a single card.” Beca offered to pay her back, but she insisted it to be a holiday present. If Beca didn’t know better, she would have swore it was a date.

They were on their way back to the dorms when Beca felt something hit the back of her head.

She whipped around. “Hey!”

Chloe was already packing another snowball, clearly out for blood. She quickly launched that one too, which Beca barely managed to sidestep. She bent down to create her own snow projectile.

Chloe began to run away to get out of range, so Beca went to chase her. Unfortunately, Beca slipped on the snow and fell. Chloe was immediately at her side. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

The snow cushioned her fall pretty well, but Beca didn’t want to give that away just yet. She faked a grimace. “I think I broke my leg.”

“Oh shit.” Chloe furrowed her eyebrows in worry. “I’m so sorry I-“

Beca felt too bad that she immediately stopped her. “I’m joking, I’m actually fine.”

It took a moment to register, and then Chloe slapped her on the arm. “You scared me!”

Beca rubbed the spot where she was hit. “Ok now I actually have to go to the hospital.”

Chloe just slapped her arm again, before offering a hand to pull her up. Beca took it but didn’t get up. Chloe looked confused as Beca smirked, and then pulled the other girl down into the snow with her. She fell on her face in the fresh snow with a satisfying poof.

“Oh my god, you asshole.” Chloe laughed after pulling her face up, and shoved at the other girl, who was still laying in the snow.

“Chlo you have a beard.” Beca was practically wheezing at the sight of Chloe having snow stuck all over her face. “Still hot though.”

Chloe modeled it, striking poses and getting up to walk down an imaginary runway, while Beca yelled after her, hyping her up.

They messed around in the snow for a while longer, then took the long way back. Beca considered complaining about the cold and wet seeping in, but Chloe just looked so happy. Plus, it really was nice outside. Walking with Chloe in the peace of campus was a moment Beca wanted to keep tucked in her pocket forever.

—

After getting back, they went to take showers (separately) to warm themselves up, deciding to reconvene later in Chloe’s room. Beca sat on her bed with her hair in a towel, scrolling through her phone. She opened a message from Stacie, who was definitely one of her best friends in college so far. She flew out a couple of days ago and told Beca not to “get too freaky” while she was gone. Beca practically shoved her out the door.

Stacie [6:31 pm]: You make it home?

Beca [7:13 pm]: No, stuck here. Stupid snow.

A reply immediately came in.

Stacie [7:13 pm]: Ugh that sucks, are you by yourself then?

Beca hesitated on what exactly to say, knowing Stacie would immediately make fun of her for the truth.

Beca [7:15 pm]: Not exactly…..Chloe is also still here

Stacie [7:16 pm]: !!!!!!!!!!

Stacie [7:16 pm]: BECA

Stacie [7:16 pm]: THIS IS YOUR CHANCE

Beca [7:17 pm]: Dude she doesn’t like me

Stacie [7:18 pm]: Do NOT bother coming back to campus if you don’t shoot your shot right now

Stacie [7:19 pm]: Joking but also not

Stacie [7:19 pm]: She hangs out w you all the time. She actually listens to your music recs. Plz do something.

Stacie [7:20 pm]: Ok talk later family is calling for dinner, good luck!!!!!

Beca [7:21 pm]: ??? I’m going to ignore that you basically implied not listening to any of the music I’ve suggested

She fell back onto her bed. She wanted to make a move, and she did feel like there could be something between them. However, each time Chloe was nice to someone else, she got psyched out believing that Chloe was always just being platonically nice to her. No flirting involved.

With each passing day, though, it became harder to deny she wanted her. And how badly she did. She caught herself staring a bit too long, and hung endlessly on the small touches Chloe would always do. A brush of the finger here, and a hair tucked behind an ear there. Beca thought some days she might explode.

She texted Chloe to ask if she was ready yet.

Chloe [7:25 pm]: Sorry got distracted!! Hopping in the shower now.

With the extra time, Beca decided to finish the mix she was working on earlier that day. There was something off about it that she couldn’t quite figure out, but coming back to it now, she figured out what it was missing. She listened to it a few times to make sure she was really happy with it before mastering it.

A text came in from Chloe, letting her know she could come over whenever.

Beca quickly added the song to a USB which already contained many music files, then placed the drive into a small pink, cardboard box she got from Stacie. The box originally held a necklace, which made it the perfect size for her gift.

She stashed it in her sweater pocket then made her way to Chloe’s room in the other wing of the floor.

It was still relatively early in the night, so Chloe suggested a movie. Beca wasn’t one for movies usually, but it wasn’t like she had any better ideas.

They cuddled together on the small dorm bed in Chloe’s den of pillows, with the laptop in front of them. The movie was actually pretty good, despite all the bad decisions the main character kept making, and the fact that Beca missed half the plot due to glancing at Chloe instead, and being nervous about how close they were.

“Thoughts?” Chloe turned down the volume as the credits began to roll.

“I think she should have gone with the second guy.”

“Really? I thought he was kind of iffy.”

They proceeded have a lively discussion about the movie, with Beca continuing to argue mostly to mess with Chloe, who seemed quite adamant about the main character’s end choice of romantic partner. It ended with Chloe tickling her until Beca finally admitted her defeat.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Beca looked at Chloe warily, still catching her breath from the tickling attack. “Um, why?”

“Just do it.”

She sighed but did as she was told.

“No peeking!”

Her index finger drew a cross above her heart, signaling her promise to not look.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

In front of her was a piece of paper carefully rolled into a tube and bound with a red bow. Beca picked it up, gingerly untying the ribbon, unraveling her gift. Her jaw dropped.

“Chloe…”

In her hands was a pencil sketch of her with headphones on, smiling and almost on the verge of laughing. Honestly, she never thought about what she looked like while she was happy. The image of herself in her mind was always some version of broody. Is this how Chloe saw her? Beca wasn’t one to usually cry, but she might have teared up a bit.

“This is…incredible.”

Chloe looked kind of nervous. The same way that Beca was protective of showing others her music, Chloe was hesitant to show much of her art. “You like it?”

“Dude I love it. Seriously.” That reassurance seemed to put Chloe at ease. “Okay, your turn to close your eyes.”

Chloe did it without hesitation, and also held out her hands. Beca shook her head a bit in amusement and placed the small box into her palm.

“Okay, open.”

She opened her eyes and lifted the lid of the box to find a black USB drive, with a piece of tape on the side simply labeled “For Chloe”.

Her smile widened as she realized what her present was. “Do I get to finally listen to your music?”

“Maybe.”

“It means a lot, Beca. Thank you.”

“Um yeah, no problem. Don’t tell me if you end up thinking it’s bad.” She joked.

“Oh please, you’re going to have to block me with how many good things I’ll say.”

“Don’t tempt me, I might delete your contact right now.”

Chloe laughed. “Oh please, like you could last a day without me. Also, I actually have another present for you.” She scotched a bit closer to Beca.

“Oh,” Beca furrowed her eyebrows. “Well, I don’t have anything el-“

She was swiftly cut off as Chloe kissed her, soft and sweet. So polite and unassuming it almost felt platonic.

But god did it give Beca butterflies.

Chloe pulled away so quickly that Beca wasn’t sure it even happened. Like maybe she just daydreamed too hard and manifested a hallucination.

She must have had a deer in the headlights look because Chloe suddenly got super shy. “Was that okay?” She whispered, face still close.

Beca finally came to her senses. “Yeah, totally. More than okay. Amazing really.” She must look like a blushing mess.

The corner of Chloe’s mouth quirked up in amusement and relief. “Yeah?”

“Still could be better, though.” Good work Beca, make a joke to regain some semblance of having her shit together.

“Oh?” She watched Chloe lick her lips, a mesmerizing motion. The shyness was all but gone, replaced by something much more confident, and destined to ruin Beca’s life. And she knew she’d welcome it with open arms.

—

Beca woke up in the morning to the light touch of fingers trailing along her jaw. She smiled, remembering where she was, and more importantly, who was besides her. She probably had the best night of sleep in her life. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, Beale?” She asked, keeping her eyes closed.

“Are you going to try and stop me?” Chloe whispered. Her raspy morning voice was really so damn attractive.

She opened one eye, smiling. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” Chloe leaned in for a long kiss, the hand on her face pulling Beca closer. Her breath hitched. She didn’t think she could ever get used to this. Kissing Chloe Beale. Touching her.

She pulled away all too soon, just as Beca began to want her even more. Beca was quickly learning how much of a tease Chloe was.

“i’m going to get ready, and then maybe we can go get breakfast somewhere?”

“Or…we can stay in bed all day.”

Chloe giggled, and Beca almost professed her love. “Becs, both of us gotta head home.”

“Do we though?”

Chloe just smiled as she slipped out of bed and grabbed her toothbrush and face towel. Before she was completely out the door, she gave her butt a little shake, as if she could tell Beca was staring at her clad in a large t-shirt and sleep shorts. Beca was sure Chloe was smirking as she did it.

As soon as she was out of sight, Beca grabbed her phone from the desk. A text from her dad and a couple from Stacie. She opened the messages from the latter.

Stacie [11:13 pm]: How’d it go?

Stacie [11:30 pm]: I’m assuming the silence is a good thing and ur just too busy making out with Chloe to reply ;)

Beca typed out a quick message.

Beca [9:30 am]: So…..

Stacie [9:30 am]: THIS BETTER BE GOOD NEWS

Beca [9:31 am]: How do you keep replying so quickly??

Stacie [9:31 am]: How about you stop avoiding

Beca thought of the million different things she could say, but opted for simplicity.

Beca [9:32 am]: :)

Stacie [9:33 am]: Is that good

Stacie [9:33 am]: Beca is that good

Stacie [9:34 am]: ?????

She set her phone down, feeling giddy. It might have been a bit cruel to leave Stacie hanging, but she’d get over it. She’d get the full story eventually, but right now, Beca wanted to keep as much of this thing with Chloe to herself as possible. Definitely not like a shameful secret, though.

Something about telling someone about it, however vaguely, made last night and this morning seem actually real. She had this feeling deep in her chest that this was the start of something incredible, which made her both excited and a bit scared. Ok a lot scared. Terrified even.

It sucked that they’d have be apart right as they were starting something. Winter break couldn’t be over soon enough.

#bechloe #merry pitchmas 2020 #pitchmas 2020 #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #stacie conrad #college AU #snowed in #fic #anotherbechloeshipper

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elenamiria · 3 years

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We’ll Never Be Royals

Royalty!Reader x Knight!Din Djarin

Rating: G Summary: A mysterious knight comes to your rescue and you find an unexpected bond on the journey home Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Light violence, reader in peril, tropes lol Tags: @fishswimbetterunderwater @a-dorin @blxwjobsforclones @lynnie51 @katrynec @mistermiraclee @theelvenvalkyrie

1. Sorry for my absence in the past week, my family thought we potentially were exposed to covid (my mom’s coworker got sick and had to get tested) but good news! We’re all good!! 2. To my requesters I promise you I am working on my fics, I have had a little bit of writers block and I keep writing and then rewriting things because I go back and don’t like what I have so I’m so sorry it’s taking so long!! 3. I already had this written from a while ago and feel bad for the lack of content so I figured I’d throw this out there (Even though I’m not really sure if I like it, I kinda think it might be bad alsdhaiweo oh well) Also I’m pretty sure I want it to be a series but we’ll see how this goes

Anyways I love you all and I hope you enjoy!!

Din Djarin Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Your knight in shining armor was not exactly what you expected. His armor was shining, gleaming silver, and he was dressed like a knight however he was not loyal to anyone but his covert band of mercenaries. He was a quiet man, never really speaking to you unless you spoke to him or he was telling you what to do. You had gathered that he was normally a bounty hunter after you had inquired which knight he was and he replied that you would not know who he was. You had also gathered that the king, your father, had sent him specifically for his quick and efficient ways as well as promising him a great reward if you were to be returned alive. You were beaten and bruised when he found you, the rival kingdom who had captured you desperate for the information you had on your fathers forces. When you had realized it was just one man coming to the rescue you fought back hysterics as you were sure the two of you were going to be killed, but he was quick with a sword and clever too. When you made it out alive you had wanted to see him, to know who he was, but he told you he couldn’t show his face.

There was a long journey ahead of you, traveling in secrecy did not lend itself to efficiency, and you found yourself growing closer to your mysterious knight. Always ensuring he had several portions of food ready for each meal while you made an excuse to wander off so he could eat in peace, you would watch the flames of your campfire reflect off of his armor and let your mind wander to what he was like under his helmet, you found you enjoyed his silence compared to the bustle of the castle, and you especially loved when he would gently tend to your wounds with a special salve. He would talk then, especially in the first few days when you were almost constantly in agony, you figured it was to distract you from the pain but you enjoyed hearing his stories. He told you of bounties he’d caught, of the lands he had seen and one day he told you about his creed, “I know you’re curious why I won’t show you my face. My people take this creed to protect ourselves from those who would wish us harm, it is our way. I am sorry I frighten you but I hope you can understand.”

You stared for a moment, slightly shocked he was bringing it up, before you spoke. Simply stating, “I am not afraid of you.”

His helmet tilted slightly before he turned to face you fully, “You do not have to lie to me your highness. I see how often you watch me, like you are anticipating my attack.”

You felt your face heat at the misunderstanding and you reached towards him but thinking better you let your hand fall to your side as you spoke, “My dear knight I do not stare at you because I am afraid of you.” You looked down as you continued, “I stare because I yearn to know you and I am curious. I do not fear you, in fact I think I trust you more than I have ever trusted any other being before.”

You glanced up with a shy smile at your confession. When you were met with silence you faltered, this time it felt different there was a tension in the air. When he said nothing for several very long moments you rose intent on retiring for the night in your embarrassment. A gloved hand lightly curled around you wrist as you brushed by causing you to freeze and turn to face your knight. There was a deep breath loud enough for you to hear through his helmet and then he spoke, “I do not trust easily.”

Something about his tone had you reaching forward to cup the helmet’s cheek but your gentle moment was interrupted by an arrow whizzing past your face. A startled yelp flew from your mouth and instantly he was in front of you shielding your front with his body, one arm pushing at your side to urge you behind him.

"Stay by me." he ordered, helmet scanning the area where the arrow came from. Your hands laid on his back as you looked around wildly, heart nearly pounding out of your chest, there was a noise and then another arrow was flying your way which was blocked and struck harmlessly off Din's armor. It seems the bandits realized with his protection they would have to take a more direct approach as three figures emerged from the shadows to charge at the knight. Barking an order for you to stay back he launched into action, sword drawn and clashing with the attackers. You backed away and aimlessly looked around for something to help, seeing nothing else you grabbed the metal pot that you used to cook your meals. Clutching it to your chest you continued backing up until you ran into something solid, you assumed it was a tree until the object wrapped a hand around your mouth and the other around your waist. Panicking you did the first thing you could and bit hard, your attacker wore thin cotton gloves that did little to protect him from your harsh teeth. The man cried out and pulled away from you and before you could even process what you were doing you were wildly swinging your pot into the man's head.

He dropped and you stared with wide eyes unsure if he was dead, the loud shouts behind you disrupted you and you turned to see a blow to the side of your knights head knock him to the ground. This didn't deter him as his blade swung towards the attackers legs causing them to fall back while he recovered. He had just risen when one of them came from behind and wrapped a thick arm around his neck, the other two approached intent on disarming him. The situation looked grim and when a rough call of 'go, take the horse and go,' met your ears you knew you couldn’t leave him. Swallowing down your fear you approached quickly and as the other attackers shouted warnings to the third you made your attack. Once again you swung the pot as hard as you could striking the man on the head, as that seemed to do the trick last time. He stumbled and let go of your knight who stumbled but regained his bearings as oxygen filled his lungs once again. He landed a solid swipe on one of the other bandit’s arms and with that they seemed to give up, retrieving their friend who had only just stumbled up and they fled into the woods. You couldn't help the gleeful laugh that flew past your lips as you cheered in victory but it quickly died down when your savior stumbled. You rushed to steady him but he held up his hand and sunk to the log that you had been using as a makeshift bench while he caught his breath, "Gather our things, we'll stay in an inn for the night."

You nodded and hurried to collect your belongings. When you had completed the task, ensuring everything was securely attached to the horse, you fidgeted slightly before tapping your knight on the shoulder, "Everything's ready, are you feeling well enough to steer or would you like me to?"

He rose and turned towards you, "I'll steer."

He left little room for discussion as he extinguished the fire and mounted the horse, leaving you to climb on behind him. Wrapping your arms around him you rested your head on his shoulder as he stirred your horse to life. You found yourself drifting off as your adrenaline wore off despite the steady jolting sensation of your cheek against his shoulder armor.

You were roused by a call of your name and a gentle shaking sensation, you jolted up when you realized that you truly had drifted off, cheek sore from the harsh metal it had been laying on. The gleaming lights from the inn illuminated the night around you and Din instructed you to stay with the horse as he went to get a room. Dismounting you absentmindedly stroked your horse's snout, rambling softly to the animal, until a hand landed on your shoulder. You startled but relaxed when when you turned and it was just your knight, he hitched the horse and gathered your bags, leading you into the inn and up the stairs to your room. You paused in the door when you noticed the sleeping arrangements, there was only one bed. There was a low grunt behind you and Din muttered, "You can have the bed."

"No! You were the one who got hurt, you can have the bed. Please, I insist." You stared at him, and you assumed he was staring back at you, for several moments until he sighed and nodded. You went about changing into your nightgown, quickly covering yourself with a spare blanket as you settled onto the floor and fluffed the pillow that you had taken from the bed. A throat cleared and suddenly he was speaking again, "Thank you. For earlier. You didn't go like I told you to."

His voice was questioning, even though you were sure it was supposed to have come out as a statement. You shook your head before you realized he couldn't see you and so you spoke instead, "I couldn't leave you, after all I suppose I was only repaying the favor. After all you saved me from a much more dire situation. But I wanted to help you, I....trust you."

You finished lamely wincing slightly, you sat in silence and as you waited for a response. Din's voice came hesitantly, "Earlier I said I don't trust easily." Your heart sunk, fearing that this was about to have the same outcome as last time - you going to bed full of embarrassment, until he continued, "I stand by that, but I trust you."

A smile crossed your face as your heart skipped a beat and you couldn't stop yourself from asking incredulously, "You trust me?"

There was another period of silence before, "I do, more than I thought possible."

And then yet another pause before so softly you almost missed it, "I think you deserve to know, my name is Din."

#Din Djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fluff #star wars fanfiction #star wars fluff #gn reader

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blizzardfluffykpop · 3 years

Text

Backseat Bingo

Summary: Turns out the lead singer from your favorite band is really handsome.

Do or Not Series

Fluff

Word Count: 2,448

Hui X Reader [Featuring: Shinwon and Changgu as siblings]

50s AU [What I wish the 50s were]

“This place is the antsville,...” I muttered to myself when my siblings and I entered the bar. It was jam-packed with people no more than a few inches away from each other as they tried to crowd around the stage. Who was going to play? I had no clue, but I knew they were going to be big. So I pushed myself between people and squeezed to the barrier as the musicians came onto the stage. That’s when I saw him, his eyes glimmered under the pink lights. Carding his hand through his hair, he stated, “Tonight, folks, we’re going to play a few of our hits. Let’s see if you know them!” And with that, he holds up his fingers and signals, ‘1, 2, 3, 4’!

Surprisingly, I knew every song as I listened to the radio as often as possible. It’s only when my parents are busy listening to the news playing on the Morning Radio that I miss the hits. Whenever everyone was outside, I would find an excuse to be listening to the radio on the inside. Would I get in trouble for it? Yes, but it is worth every second. Finding out the voice I found attractive belongs to a handsome man? Made it well worth getting scolded for listening to the radio, ‘too much'. While I sang along, I found myself getting lost in his demeanor; how his voice would ring out on high notes, how his voice sounded like pure honey. I couldn’t get enough of it. So when their concert ended, my heart broke. I wished to see him again, but I knew I was getting my hopes up too fast. I found Changgu and Shinwon, my two younger siblings, perched at the bar.

They were drinking two milkshakes, and when they waved me over, they ordered me one. Which I gladly accepted, "Did you germs enjoy the concert?" They smirk at each other and nod at me, “You were ogling the crooner~” Changgu teases me, “He’s not a crooner, you germ.” Changgu shrugs at me, and I roll my eyes. Shinwon gets up, flips his collar up, acting like he’s hot shit. And says, “Well, it was nice knowing you oddballs, but I see a looker at 10 O’clock, and I don’t want to miss my shot.” I roll my eyes yet again and shrug, “Later, guess it’s just you and me, Changgu.” He shakes his head, “It's just you, I’m gonna talk to the drummer, Wooseok.” I gasp, “You know him?” He nods, “I’m not introducing you to the lead--” I groan, “Later, Germ!” I groan, into my straw and watch the clock. Three more hours before my siblings and I need to be back. If we are late, I am so blaming it on Changgu.

While waiting on the two, a grubby guy comes up to me and asks me questions like, ‘How’s my night going’? to which I answer 'Fine.' And, ‘What’s my name?’ to which I don’t respond. On the fifth question of, ‘Do you come here often?’ I finally have enough and ask, “Are you writing a book?” Doesn’t he get that I am not interested? I groan internally. What will it take for him to leave me alone? When this gorgeous guy comes up to me and asks, “Is he bothering you, Baby?” I nod, and the guy quickly backs up and goes, “I was not--, I did not know they were yours. Actually, I hear my buddies calling, so I’ll be splitting.” The guy smirks and sits down at the bar next to me when I recognize him. He was the guy singing up on the stage, “You have a bad reputation or somethin’?’ He shrugs, “Depends on who you ask.” I smirk to myself, “Well, what if I’m askin’?” He smirks over at me, “Well, I’m as bad as you want me to be, Baby.” I conceal my smile and wink at him.

One thing led to another, and I was in his backseat making out with him. Don’t know how it happened, but I’m not complaining. I drag him on top of my lap and suck a bright red hickey on his collarbone. He's not one to be outdone, which leaves me, two bright red hickeys, on my neck. I have my hands fisted in his dress shirt, pulling him closer and causing wrinkles. When we hear a knock on his passenger window, it's the drummer, Wooseok, “Can I catch a ride from you?” Hui groans into my neck, “Can’t you see I’m-- Yes, yes I can. Give us a few minutes, okay?” I laugh as Hui gestures to the two of us, and Wooseok gives me a small wave. When Wooseok leaves, Hui slips off my lap, and I whine, making grabby hands at him. He chuckles, "I'm sorry to cut this short I don't want this to end." I pout, "Me neither. Why can't he get a ride from someone else?" Hui laughs, "I have a feeling the others already took home their dates. Plus, Wooseok can't drive--" I interrupt "What eighteen-year-old can't drive?" Hui laughs, "He's learning." I cross my arms over my torso and say, "Well, I was learning what your lips taste like." Hui smirks and pulls me back in for another kiss, "I know I won't be able to fall asleep in this class." I smile as we part and help him fix his dress shirt as he helps me fix up my hair. He asked if I needed a ride as well, and I shook my head. Since I'm taking Shinwon and Changgu home, I’m going to need to get a turtleneck to cover up this damage. We part ways with one final kiss, and he asks, "Will I ever see you, again?" I smile, "Depends. Are you asking to stay?" He smiles, "I live ten houses down on Maynard." I nod, and with that, I'm gone like the wind.

I find my way back into the bar and find Shinwon lying on a bench. While Changgu is laughing at whatever the bartender is saying. Shinwon catches my eye, and with a smirk, he says, “I heard you were doing back seat bingo with Hui from Wooseok~.” I roll my eyes, “Oh shut it, Shinwon. Can you give me your turtleneck? So our parents don’t see my marks?” He shrugs and goes to the bathroom and comes back with his coat covering his chest. And hands over his turtleneck which I slip over my shirt. “What happened to the ones you guys had an eye on?” Changgu groans, “They had a girlfriend and did not want anything to do with me.” I squint, “I thought you were talking to Wooseok.” He shrugs, “I was, but I saw a cutie, and I went after them, and it was a complete bust.” I laugh, and Shinwon shakes his head, “Mine wasn’t much better.” He tells us with a sigh, and I ask, “How so?” He smirks, “I got a date next Friday, suckers!” I roll my eyes, “Of course.” Changgu groans even louder into the table, “Am I the only one whose night out didn’t go well.” I shrug, “I mean at least you aren’t working this shift.” He shrugs, “You have me there. So do you have a way to contact Hui?” I nod, "I am striking out this week." In unison, Shinwon and I go, "You should try out for baseball then." Shinwon is celebrating his victory, acting like he won when I am the one that hit a home run. I ended up snogging and giving hickeys to the lead singer of a famous hometown band.

The daylight couldn't arrive faster as I watched the clock, waking up every so often to see only twenty minutes have passed. I wanted to scream, but that would alert the whole house I was anxious about tomorrow. What if he turns me down? What if he only wanted to be with me for that night, and Wooseok ruined his plans? It made me nervous and restless. The clock could not tick faster to reach 9 a.m., could it? I wish to know more about him. Like what is his favorite time of day, what keeps him up at night. What makes his heartbeat fast? Where did he learn to sing? The questions raced around my mind so much, I finally crashed.

I wake up and stretch out my limbs to see it’s eight-thirty in the morning. Which leaves me enough time to get up, have some breakfast with my family. Get dressed and walk down my street and over to Mayard and to the tenth house on the right. When I’ve brushed my teeth and headed downstairs, I find my mom and Shinwon sharing a cup of coffee. They wave and tell me there is more in the coffee pot and toast if I would like some. I grin and pour myself a cup and join the two at the table with a piece of toast in my mouth. My dad bounds down the stairs and sighs, “I’m gonna be late.” My mom shakes her head, “Honey, you live right across from the school. I hardly doubt you can’t make it on time.” He shakes his head and kisses her on the cheek. Changgu comes down the stairs with a whine, “I want to go back to bed!” We shake our heads at him, “It’s your last year in school. If anything you should be grateful.” Our parents laugh, “Yeah, when we were in high school, they canceled our senior year due to the Spanish Flu. So be glad.” Changgu groans, “I would much rather they do that--.” My dad shakes his head, “Alright, grab a cup of coffee, and we are off to school, bud.” Changgu groans again, and they leave the house in a rush.

My mom turns on the Morning Radio and says, “I heard you and the lead singer of that group you like so much,... What do they call it? Backseat Flinging?” I groan, “Shinwon---!” Shinwon shakes his head and says, “I did not tell her it was called that.” I shake my head, “We just made out.” She smirks, “Yeah, that’s why you’re wearing a turtleneck in the middle of Spring. I remember what it’s like to be a teenager!” I shake my head, “Are you sure?” It’s her turn to laugh with Shinwon. “Shinwon, you’re acting like you didn’t score a date last night!” Our mom’s jaw drops, “So you were just gonna leave this out, Ko Shinwon?” She scoffs, and I smirk at him, “Oh yeah, you should have seen him last night, Mom!” It’s his turn to groan as I fill her in on the details. We tell her how Changgu’s catch was a complete bust. She pouts, “I want my kids to be happy. Come on! These people need to step up their game. We’re the best-looking family on the whole block.” I laugh, “You got that right, Mom. Well, I gotta get goin’, or I’ll miss my chance.” They nod and bid me goodbye.

I walk down the street, trying to ease my nerves by looking at the different types of flowers. The daffodils are beautiful this time of year. I pluck one, hoping Hui and I can start a new beginning. I knock on the door, my nerves wanting me to turn around and run down the block with all I got. But I steal my nerves and smile as his father opens the door. With a warm timbre, he asks, “Who are you here to see?” I tell him softly, “Hui.” He yells for Hui to come downstairs that a good-looking person standing on the porch wants to see them. I hear loud footsteps resonate throughout the house. And quicker than lighting there, he stands in front of his dad. Thanking him and shuts the door behind him, I hand him the flower. His cheeks turn red as he accepts the flower as his sweater falls off his shoulder, revealing the hickeys I gave him. He catches me staring at them, and he smiles, “I was hoping to see you again.” I grin, I didn’t expect him to wear my hickeys proudly, but I’m pleasantly surprised. I blushed and traced them with my fingers, my heart beating out of its chest as my touch sent shivers down his spine. He places the daffodil behind his ear, and my heart warms at the act.

He leads me over to the porch swing and asks, “What do you say, if you’re free, of course. Would you want to spend the day together?” I shrug, “As long as you bring me home for dinner time at my folks' house. Then, yeah.” He smiles, “I can do that.” We split a milkshake at a diner, cranking out the latest hits from the jukebox that fills in our pauses. “No, you would not believe how fast Shinwon ratted me out to my mom that I was snogging you.” He laughs as I sip from our milkshake and tells me, “The band came over for some midnight snacks while my dad was still up. They went ‘Look at what your son was up to’ those bugs.” I laugh, “What did your dad say?” He grins, “Said, ‘Thank Lord Almighty that he’s finally gonna settle’.” I grin, “Is he right?” Hui scrunches his nose up and tilts his head from side to side with a smile playing on his face as he tells me, “Depends.” I playfully roll my eyes and say, “Okay, Dreamboat.” He smirks, “Ahh, you think I’m dreamy?” I shrug, “I don’t think you’re a boat if that is what you're asking.” We snicker as our fries come out, “You’re unreal.” I lightly pinch myself and let out a tiny ‘ow’ and tell him, “I feel very real to myself.” He grins, and that’s how we spend the rest of our day.

When we reach his house, I go to kiss his cheek, and he turns his head fast, and I kiss him by accident. He smirks as he pulls me in for another, “One is never enough.” I can’t stop the smile from dancing across my lips. I grab his collar pulling him deeper into the kiss. When we finally pull away, I ask, “So what do you say to going steady?” He leans his forehead against mine and says, “You got me pinned, Baby.” I smile and kiss his cheek successfully this time and rush off, “Well, I gotta split baby, I’ll see you in my dreams!” He yells out, “I’ll see you there!”

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willa-marino · 3 years

Text

It takes a moment for her knees to stop shaking.

Willa dislikes heights, dislikes even more that Damon and Bianca - for all intents and purposes - shoved both herself and Sutton out of Damon’s helicopter. She’s pretty sure they laughed after the fact, and it makes her grit her teeth. Willa gives herself two seconds to be mad, two seconds for true, hot anger that rings her scalp and the back of her neck, and then she releases it with a deep breath in and then an even longer breath out. Frankly, it’s too fucking hot to be mad.

The point of this exercise, she knows, is control. Patience. Like her morning runs, this is a lesson in endurance. How to keep moving, pushing forward. How to survive. Damon had told her they were about eighteen miles from the next town over, so Willa figures it will take them most of the day to get there, though she knows she needs to facture in the desert itself; the heat, the sun, the lack of water or any type of true terrain. Just baked earth, and her hair already heavy on the back of her neck.

Well, first things first. Willa digs into her bag until she finds a rubber band and snaps her hair into a high ponytail, the ends brushing her shoulders. Feeling marginally better already, Willa offers Sutton a grin the moment the other girl touches down beside her. They each take a moment to check their packs - there’s water for them, and two small meals packed in neatly, as well as a compass, map, a very meager first-aid kit, several knives and even, they’re both surprised to see, a small handgun.

Sutton says the thought that Willa has out loud. “Maybe they think we’ll just end up shooting each other in the head if we can’t make it.”

Something about her tone strikes Willa as hilarious and she laughs, hand to her stomach, open-mouthed, deep from her belly. “They probably wish we would,” Willa replies, still laughing. She’s still searching around in her own pack and her fingertips brush past the edge of something - a little folded piece of paper. She wraps her fingers around it and pulls it out, unfolding it twice. Instantly, she recognizes Damon’s handwriting. You’re not thirsty yet. Start moving.

“Bossy even when he’s not around,” Willa mutters under her breath. She pauses, and then shows Sutton the note. The brunette wrinkles her nose and turns away, ready to start. Willa thinks about tearing the paper up, stomping on it, even setting it on fire - there are matches in her pack - but something stays her hands. She ends up tucking the note back into her pack, and takes out the map and compass, the latter of which she presses into Sutton’s hand.

Teamwork, too, is the other part of this. Willa glances up at the sun, which has not quite reached its highest point in the sky. Knowing it will get even hotter than it is now - and fuck, is it hot - Willa and Sutton begin.

It’s alright, really, for the first two hours. Almost half-way through, but Willa can feel them slowing, can feel the sun dry them out, their mouths and skin, their hair. The trek across the desert is hot, yes, the sun sears into them both, sure, and Willa wishes she had a fucking IV drip of water pumping into her, but it’s not horrible. Not yet. She doesn’t let herself or Sutton touch their bottles of water until they’re forty-five minutes in or so, and she times them both on the amount of time they take a sip. Because it’s sips of water out here, not gulps.

“We want this to last,” Willa says as kindly as she can when Sutton’s about to go in for another drink. “I know you’re hot, but it’s only going to get worse.”

Hm, probably the wrong thing to say based on Sutton’s reaction, but Willa merely shrugs. She won’t claim she knows what the fuck she’s doing out here, which again, is also the point, but she does know the importance of conserving water, especially in a climate like this. Sweat lines her brow and she feels it between her breasts, the backs of her knees. Sutton is beginning to look miserable, and despite the twinge of annoyance Willa feels in response to her counterpart out here, she can’t say she doesn’t understand or, honestly, doesn’t feel the same way.

“Look, there’s some brush up ahead. Maybe even some shade. We can rest there for a few, okay?”

Sutton nods in response, looking a little more hopeful. Willa gives her a grin and they set off, map and compass in their hands, sun bearing down on their backs. Sunscreen, Willa thinks wistfully some time later, as they finally near the tangle of brambles. There’s no shade, unfortunately, but there are a couple big rocks and each girl claims one, dumping their bags and leaning forward, heads between their knees.

“I feel a little nauseous,” Sutton murmurs somewhere to Willa’s left, and she closes her eyes in response. There’s a bit of a dry patch on the center of her tongue. Water, she tells herself, and then opens her eyes abruptly, reaching for her pack. It’s in this moment that several things happen at once: Sutton makes a startled gasping sound, there’s a loud hissing noise to Willa’s right and then, just a second after, a searing, brutal pain tears itself into her leg and does not let go.

Despite her training, her compartmentalizing of the discomfort and the godforsaken heat and the rationing of water, her annoyance with their barren surroundings and Bianca and Damon’s humor over the whole situation, Willa cannot help or stop the scream that rips itself out of her lungs. She can’t help what happens next, either, and she feels herself fold over at the waist, falling forward off of the rock and towards the cracked earth at her feet. Her cheek hits it first and it burns. Dirt fills her mouth. Choking, Willa immediately rolls over and covers her face with both arms, protecting her eyes and cheeks from the relentless glare of the sun.

She hears Sutton scramble up and the sounds of the other girl tearing through her own pack. Willa feels dizzied, dazed, and the pain, fuck, oh god, the pain in her leg slowly emanates outward, throbs with the uneven pounding of her heart. What the fuck? She thinks, and abruptly, her scream cuts off. What the fuck. Willa opens her eyes and moves her arms from her face, her gaze immediately locking on Sutton, who seems to have found what she was looking for: the shiny silver handgun. Despite herself, Willa scrambles around behind her, her fingertips trying but failing to find purchase on the hard, dead earth that surrounds them. She hears herself make a pitiful sound as Sutton trains the revolver somewhere to her left. Her leg is screaming. She closes her eyes, tries to reach out to the pain with her mind, probes it. She makes the mistake of flexing the muscles in her calf and almost screams again. Moments later, a shot rings out, echoing through her brain, her spine, right through her teeth. Sutton looks victorious as she nears Willa, and it takes everything in her not to flinch away from her. She hears a scuffling, and then Sutton appears in her line of vision again, holding up something. Something. Some thing.

Her vision swims, blinks out and comes roaring back. Willa blinks rapidly up at Sutton and realizes what has happened.

“Motherfucker!” Sutton yells proudly, swinging the dead body of the snake around her head. Willa feels hot drops of blood touch her face. She licks her cracked lips.

“Sutton,” Willa says in a voice she does not immediately recognize. It is small and contained, like flame. A second later, she realizes she is furious. But she must remain calm. The snake, the pain, the bullet, it all makes sense now to her. But the pain. Dehydration is a soft kiss, Willa thinks to herself, her fingertips digging into the earth. Being hot is laying on a cloud, compared to the raging fire that flushes through her leg, her veins, beating in time with her heart.

The brunette pauses to look at Willa, and her clear eyes settle on her leg. Her mouth forms into a small ‘o’. It would be hilarious, actually, if it didn’t fucking hurt so bad.

“It bit you,” Sutton says, thunderstruck, and she drops the dead snake and the gun at the same time, falling to her knees and crawling over to where Willa sits upright, panting heavily.

“Yeah, I know,” Willa bites back in frustration and pain. Part of her wants to apologize, but she can’t see through the fire. Can’t reach out to take it back. She feels Sutton reach for her, her leg, and Willa really has to focus on not screaming now, because Sutton’s hands feel like knives burrowing down, and when she rips open the leg of her pants, they still. Willa counts the silence in her head, but it takes too long.

“Well?” She grounds out, squeezing her eyes closed. For some reason, she can’t bear to look at it. Cannot look at the source of the pain directly in the face, and it is her deepest shame. Willa: 0, Desert: 1.

“It - I think it was poisonous, Willa. Oh my god. Fuck.” Sutton sounds almost scared, and this simply will not do.

“You think?” Willa asks, and somehow, miraculously, her voice sounds steady. Smaller, but steady.

“Definitely poisonous,” Sutton amends, and Willa sees her look closer at the wound. “Two puncture marks, fuck.”

She does not count. She does not scream, though she wants to, thinks part of herself would be freed from it if she does, but she doesn’t. Sutton sounds scared, and fuck, Willa is definitely afraid, but she knows she has to remain calm. To stall the venom from reaching itself even further into her system, yes, but also to keep Sutton calm. Focused. Because what she has to do next requires it of her, requires it of them both.

“Okay. Well, it hurts like a bitch,” Willa says matter-of-factly, like one would say, “Oh, look, it’s going to rain.”

Sutton starts to shake, and it takes Willa a moment to realize the other woman is trying not to laugh.

“What do we do?” Sutton asks, the corners of her mouth trembling. Willa takes a deep breath, knowing that this, right here, is the moment. Another flare of pain lances through her, but Sutton said we, and that has her feeling hopeful. A little.

“You’re going to have to suck it out. The poison. To the absolute best of your abilities. It’s going to deplete our water supplies by a lot, but we can worry about that later. Go into my pack and get the first aid kit, and both bottles of water in there. You won’t need to cut anything, just apply firm pressure to the wounds and squeeze. Wash your mouth out with water each time you get a mouthful of blood and venom. Spit it out immediately. Do not swallow. Repeat until I tell you to stop.” Willa closes her eyes, and her body feels incendiary. It takes Sutton less than thirty seconds to gather what she needs. She also ends up bringing Willa’s pack to her and propping her back up against it so that she doesn’t have to keep laying on the hot earth. She’s thankful for this, but can’t manage to speak her gratitude. She does, however, reach out for Sutton’s wrist as the brunette turns to her leg to begin. Willa knows this is important. “You can do this, Sutton. I’m right here. Steady, okay?”

Something seems to clear itself in Sutton’s expression, and the woman nods her head at Willa once, the line of her shoulders strengthening.

After that, Willa isn’t really sure what happens. She goes in and out of focus, like the pain in her leg, like the dry patch on her tongue. The sun feels like hell on her skin but she very nearly welcomes it, because as long as she can still feel anything, she’s still closer to the living than to death. She can’t claim expertise on snakes; doesn’t know how poisonous its bite was, doesn’t even know what kind of snake it was that bit her. She thinks of her morning runs and coffee, thinks of a particular mouth and a specific laugh, thinks of the opera ticket she bought for herself, thinks of her brother and mother and father, thinks of heat and oasis and the desert all around them. She thinks of other things that feel like dreams, but aren’t. And then she feels Sutton pull away, sees her sit up, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and spit it out. Watches her swish a small mouthful of water and spit again. She tries to brush away Sutton’s hand when she holds the bottle of water out to her, but Sutton is having none of this and tips some into her mouth, and she could almost cry because it tastes so sweet, almost like liquid sugar. Willa lies very still for a moment, longer, and then she hears Sutton speak.

“How do you feel?”

“Help me up.”

“I don’t think -”

“Sutton. Help me up.”

Sutton grumbles about it, but they both know it’s necessary. This has already taken too much time and they need to get moving. The pain isn’t gone when she’s on her feet, and she has to steady herself in Sutton’s hands before she motions to her that she’s fine, she can do this, she’s got this. While Willa tests out her leg - Sutton has wrapped it in gauze - Sutton packs up both of their bags and helps Willa get hers onto her shoulders. She’s definitely weaker, but the pain is manageable, almost tolerable. It’ll have to do. Their pace is slower than it was before, but they’re moving at least. Following instructions.

Start moving, she hears Damon say, like he did on the note at the bottom of her bag. Willa lifts her chin. Gives him a little salute in her mind. Throws him the finger, too, for good measure.

#[ willa x narrative ]#[ willa x sutton ]#[ part two will be coming from @sutton-kohl ]#[ tw: blood ]

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darkmist111 · 3 years

Text

Phantom Thieves Play Dungeons and Dragons

The Wander and the Worker

Akira had faced many trials, both legally and spiritually. He had also been a master of organization, stuffing as much activity as he could into a single year.

Yet this challenge nearly brought him to his knees.

“So you only add 2 to armor class?”

“No that's only for medium armor your un-armored right now.”

“Shit I should've picked a race with more dexterity.”

It was like herding cat's, without Morgana’s help.

“You guys ready? It's almost 5.” Akira said know that this group could double a session’s play time.

“Hold on I’m trying to memorize our modifiers.” Ann said squinting as she had forgot her glasses at home.

“Don't worry just remember your crap at everything not dexterity and charisma.” Ryuji said nonchalantly.

The plan was to get all the players to level 2 before they got to the main campaign, so Akira did this little mini session with 2 characters first so the players could slip into their roles.

“Alright are we ready to play?”

Ryuji had finally gotten Ann to stop fusing over her papers.

“As we’ll ever be I guess *sigh* I really hope I don't die at level 1 again.” Ann groaned.

“Hell yeah let's kick some ass!”

“Alright close your eyes and listen.” Akira took a deep breath and his voice changed.

“This is the world of Exceeden”

Akira peaked and caught the grins on his two friends faces.

“Unlike our world with disconnected planets, the world of Exceeden is but one layer stacked in-between other realms, but different from the other realms Exceeden did not occur naturally but was created by 20 core gods. The gods were once one shared in their love of their creation, however what they didn't know was it would grant them more power than even their unparalleled minds could imagine.

Jealousy, anger, spite, and rage broke them apart each believing their creation should go the way they decided and the 20 became 5. 6 of Law, 6 of Chaos, 2 of Good, 2 of Evil, and 4 to keep the balance.

While the realm has no supreme rule the cycles of mortals carry on. Empires rise and fall, stories are told and forgotten, until finally the sands of time cycle towards something or someone that can shatter the heavens despite their humble beginnings.

The year is 997 A.I.(After Invasion) and our story takes place on the continent of Almoria. While not the largest continent it houses a wide array of People and Cultures in no small part due to the many differences environments.

In the far north in the icy tundras Orc and Goliath tribes war against the Tiefling Solos Empire and their Minotaur allies even further north in the Shadow Lands.

Below that are the eternal plans of Sparks where wild magic hum and fae slip into our world. Bands of Centaur and Satyr dance across the fields, unknowingly starting war with the Leonin Clans.

On the east of the Great Sezali Desert a new and ambitious clan of HobGoblins are gathering their forces of Goblin and Bugbear.

This makes the Elven Allied Council to the west nervous and the desert has become a sort of cold war, but also a hive of activity for trade and merchants.

On the West Coast the Aarakocra war against the Triton and the East Coast, the legendary Tortle Cleric Genbu brokers peace between the Locathah and the Grung.

In the Mountains Kobold, Lizardmen and Dragonborn War against a unfathomable threat as the Chromatic dragons and Metal Dragons have united to control the Arcane Canyons.

With the fall of Tyrant Human King Rexanik, many flee to the peaceful mountains city of Eternix. The city, nicknamed the city of small folk, was almost completely Gnomes, Halfling, Dwarfs, as well as the Black Wing Monastery, suddenly has possibly the highest human density in the continent.

Humans have also tried their luck in the chaotic Forest of Nayan only to be never heard from again.

In the south peace is almost a certainty as the brotherhood between the Loxodon and Gith remains just a strong as a century ago. Their city Omniox hold the Verdan trading Guild the only constant in these turbulent times

Not all is so clear though, hidden in the desert are rumors of cults who use arcane, scientific, and religious methods to create inhuman monsters that stalk the night.

However it is that Desert where we start our story in the town of Ixyana. Ixyana is a port town to the sea of sand, willing to offer weary travelers any pleasure they require... for the right price. Ixyana has always been self governed but with escalating tensions between the Elven and HobGoblin armies, the town is being pressured to pick a loyalty. But today neither a Goblin nor Elf is the new stranger in town.”

“Ryuji please introduce your character.”

“I’m just a guy who looks like an average traveler, I’m wearing normal cloths and using a spear like a walking stick, the only unusual thing about me is that have blue skin and white “Hair”. I’m a Fighter but only because you get in fights when you wander as much as I do, but it's clear I’m not formally trained.”

The wanderer enters the town carrying a satchel over his back midday. He makes his way towards a inn looking to rest for the night. He hears a commotion and see several HobGoblin warriors speaking angrily toward each other, before rushing off. The young man enters into a alley to avoid crossing their path, as he steps out he sees another beautiful HobGoblin women in revealing clothes dart out from behind a stack of boxes. Before his eyes she begins to shift form before becoming a striking dark haired Elven women and quickly entering the Inn.

“Well That's a Flag if I’ve ever seen one.”

The man is overcome with curiosity and follows her. He enter the inn and sees the first floor is a diner/bar.

At this time of day not many people are drinking and lunch is already over so the inn is uncrowded.

The blue man sees the former HobGoblin women now Elven sit in the corner of the bar skillfully blending in for those not looking.

As he walks up to her she glances before biting her lip.

“Sorry I’m not working right now.”

You realize from her statement and her outfit that this women is one of the courtesans of the towns most powerful group in place of a formal government, The Desert Respite, worshipers of Bast one of the 20 original Gods and practitioners of the arts of pleasure both of a sexual nature and of entertainment.

“I still can believe your playing a Prostitute.” Ryuji says teasing.

“For your information I’m a high class escort. And let's see if you’ll be laughing in a few minutes.”

“Sorry it's not that I... I just... saw you change.”

The woman tenses her eyes narrowing and grits her teeth.

“So what?”

“Are... Are you a Spirit.”

The women slowly turns her head, seeing the nervous young man though in her eyes he's more of a boy shift his weight nervously.

“Perception check!”

“Roll for it.”

“...!!!! Natural 20!”

“Heh, yeah he's a pretty easy mark.”

“Hey!”

She smirks before tipping her drink back and gesturing to the seat across from her.

“From out of town.”

“Out from... everywhere.”

She changes her posture, trained but attractive.

“The desert must've been quite the ordeal, I didn't notice a Caravan enter town. Is your group somewhere else?”

“No, I’ve been traveling alone.”

“Alone?”

“Yes I am quite skilled at traveling, born and raised doing it in fact.”

“Incredible, you must be strong.”

The women bit her lip while the blue skinned man sweat feeling nervous from the shapeshifters forward flirtations.

“You know I have a certain need for a strong man.”

“Role Wisdom Ryuji.”

“What! She hasn't even cast anything.”

“Your mouth was dropped.” Ann teased. “Let's hope your character isn't a simp.”

“No way!”

Ryuji rolled.

“Shit! 6, 7 total.”

“Simp”

“Shut up!”

“What did- What do you need. I’m always looking to help out.”

“You see a girl can only stay in one town for so long before she needs a change of pace. I’m thinking you’ve been to plenty of places, why don't you and I go on adventure.”

The spearman let out a yelp as he felt her leg delicately trace his own.

“And I’ll be sure your thoroughly compensated.”

“Roll Perception against Ann’s Persuasion.”

“Yes!”

“Shit”

Ann rolled and grinned which caused Ryuji to hang his head.

“21 total Persuasion!”

“Goddamnit, 14 total.”

“Yeah she has you wrapped around her finger.”

“*Gulp* There’s no need for that ma’am, I'd be happy to guide you wherever you desire.”

The man saw her smile turn victorious and her leg rubbed a little higher.

“Don’t worry it's no trouble, when we stop for the night I can give you a nice and long compensating.”

_______________________________________

The pair quickly gather their things the shapeshifter, changing again into a stunning Yuan-Ti. They walked through the town. Some men stared at the shabby looking Traveler and the beautiful courtesan, leering at her exposed cleavage, open thighs, and toned belly, others smirked and gave respecting nods. He glared and the former while that latter made him feel like a scumbag.

She insisted they walk on foot so not to draw attention. The man frowned but didn't say anything.

As they walked they chatted.

“My names Zap by the way.”

“Nais of the Desert Respite.”

“So Nais, are you wondering what I am?”

“Probably not as much as your wondering what I am.”

“Well I don't know, I’ve never seen someone change what they look like except my dad.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah, he’s a Genie.”

“...”

“...You're not joking?”

“Nope. A Lightning Genie to be specific.”

“Insight Check... 11?”

“He seems to be pretty honest.”

“So you can grant wishes?”

“He could, not me. I’m only half genie, my other half is Human from my mom. Dad said my type of people are called Genasi.”

“Where’s you dad now?”

“He’s only allowed to stay in the material plane for 20 years at a time. He left on my 10th birthday, I’m 22, so he’ll be back in 8 years. Though he’ll probably see my mom before me.”

“... You know that is a really weird story right?”

“I actually didn't know until later in life. For a long time it was just the 3 of us, then the 2, now me.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You can change into other things, is it magic?”

Nias looked away not wanting to meet Zap’s eyes.

“It's not magic it's just something I’m able to do, as well as my mother and her mother before her. She said that we might be descended from Doppelgängers.”

“That's amazing.” Zap said with awe.

“Perception Check!” Ann yelled out.

“Zap doesn't lie. He's a open book.”

“19!”

“Zap really does think your amazing.”

“Geez he doesn't have to try so hard I already said I’d fuck him.”

“Excuse me! But Zap is a gentleman he doesn't only think about sex.”

“Unlike his player.”

#persona 5 #phantom thieves #joker persona 5 #persona 5 ryuji #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #p5 yusuke #yusuke kitawaga #makoto niijima #haru okumaru #p5 akechi #morgana #dungeons and dungeons #changlings #genasi

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honestlywrites · 4 years

Text

Lost Lover | (Sith!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader)

Chapter Three of Golden Hour

Summary: You wake up in a cell after celebrating Darth Vellian’s capture with a band of pirates controlled by Hondo Ohnaka. Upon awaking you realize that not only have you been imprisoned and are now being held for ransom, but you are also stuck in a cell with Anakin and Obi-Wan. Now, you have to figure out how to escape.

TW: Sexual Harassment

Masterlist

You wake up in a cell, the soft hum of energy shackles providing white noise as you attempt to gain your bearings. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you frown and attempt to remember the events leading up to this exact moment.

Vellian was found on Florrum and the Council sent you and Anakin to check. Hondo flirted with you. You saw Obi-Wan in shackles, even after you wished for him to make a successful escape. Hondo insisted on a drink to celebrate your victory and yet he drugged the alcohol. This did not escape your Jedi mind for you were able to switch it out with nearby patrons. You knew drinking was a bad idea, but Anakin insisted on the basis that you needed to lighten up. That was all you remembered.

Sitting up, you hear Anakin grumble softly and glance over to see him fast asleep on the stone floor. When you look around, it only takes a moment to notice Obi-Wan staring back at you. Your breath catches in your throat and suddenly you become aware of the beating of your heart in your chest now that you are closer to him than you have been for years past. It thumps quickly and resonates within your entire body. Only a few feet away, he sits calmly as the both of you wait for the other to speak. Words tumble through your head, trying to find the lost sentences that have been brewing for years, hoping that this moment would appear.

“So here we are,” he mutters softly, his velvety voice surrounding you entirely.

“I’ve missed you, Obi-Wan,” you whisper and glance at your sleeping compatriot to ensure that your noise levels are not enough to wake him.

“So have I,” you slowly stand and walk over to him on unstable legs, sitting down right in front of him. You refrain from reaching out and wrapping the Sith Lord in a hug because his loyalties are still questionable, but you trust him enough to not strike out at you, especially while you remain in captivity.

“What happened?” your voice is barely a whisper but as he stiffens in place, you know that he heard your question. Obi-Wan reaches out with a gloved hand, taking your hand and squeezing it gently. He is warm, as warm as you remember. This close to him, you can see all the details of his face, the beard, the freckles, and the dark circles that seem to mark him as one who calls to the darkness. He wears sadness and exhaustion on his face.

“Maul--he killed Master Qui-Gon. And there was this voice, calling out to me. It told me to kill him, to take revenge for the death of my master--my father,” his voice breaks for a moment and you reach out to take his other hand. Your heart hurts for him, to see him suffering years after the event occurred. In the rare nights when Obi-Wan would return from missions with Qui-Gon, the two of you would sit on the roof of the Jedi Temple and watch the sunset as he told you about the exciting life he was living outside these bland four walls. It was natural for Obi-Wan to become attached to Qui-Gon, especially because all younglings had no real connection to their parents. His death would have been devastating after years of pent up frustrations with the Jedi and not being able to show any affection at all.

“I understand,” you state and nod, squeezing his hands gently. You did not condone his actions, nor do you agree with him and his Separatist ideals, but you understand where he comes from. The light still remains in him, but the Sith Lord that he follows maintains a strong grasp on his mind.

“You do?” his eyes scan over your face to identify if you are telling the truth or not, but you remain as calm as ever wearing a face of concern.

“Of course. It does not mean I agree with the Sith and the Darkside, but,” you pause and sigh, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. “I know why you did what you did. I don’t like it, but I can understand it.”

His beard is softer than you expect and his cheek presses against your palm, a small smile growing on his face. You can feel the exhale of his breath against your hand and his strong pulse against your palm. Only love runs through your veins and as you sit together with him, you allow the Force to take over and navigate this tense moment. When you clear your mind, all that is left is your bright yellow Force signature that reaches out and intertwines with Obi-Wan’s. It is red to reflect the darkness within him, but you can still see the bright cerulean that once painted his soul when he was a youthful Jedi. His once blue eyes always seemed to remind you of the sky, any sky as long as he was there with you.

A deep groan breaks you out of your meditation as you quickly pull your hands away from Obi-Wan like you had been burned. You turn quickly and move over to Anakin as he stirs awake.

“Sky Guy, how are you feeling?” you stand and help him up, Obi-Wan having to follow suit now that the three of you are tethered together.

“I only took a sip, I swear,” he groans and sighs, his eyes quickly finding Obi-Wan. “Birdie, get behind me.”

“It is obvious that these pirates are trying to obtain more than they bargained for,” Obi-Wan states and narrows his eyes at the two of you as Anakin pushes you behind him. “We’re stuck together so I suggest we begin to think of a way to escape.”

You sigh and gently push Anakin’s arm away from you.

“It’s fine, let’s just figure out how to get out of here,” you tell him and begin looking up at the window-like grates. The metal they are made of prevents you from even attempting to break it open or squeeze through so you disregard them and turn to the door. Obi-Wan quickly picks up on this and walks over, bringing the two of you along behind him as he stares through the grated door and surveys the surroundings. His eyes land on a small plate of fruit and he focuses on levitating the food over toward the slits in the door.

“Don’t you think our priority should be escape first, eat second?” Anakin growls out and you frown, nudging him gently.

“Let him focus, Anakin. We’re on the same side right now,” you state as he turns, frowning at you in confusion.

“Did you not notice that he’s the bad guy? He’s a sith, Birdie, we shouldn’t be working with this man like we’re friends all of a sudden,” he exclaims and Obi-Wan huffs in anger. You gently place a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and shake your head.

“Anakin, let’s focus on getting out of here first. Then we can talk about technicalities,” you state as the knife slides off the plate and inserts itself into the slot on the wall. The door slides open and you nod, the three of you walking out in a line. Luckily, the halls are almost empty so you get by without raising any alarms.

You navigate the empty corridors with ease and silence, the three of you listening closely for any pirates that may approach.

“Is now a good time to talk about technicalities?” Anakin whispers and you shake your head as Obi-Wan strikes down a pirate that enters, the man crumpling to the ground.

“I was brought this way when I was captured, so the hangar should be right--” he slides the key card into the slot with confidence but your hopes are quickly crushed as pirates turn at the noise and approach with their weapons in hand. You clench your jaw nervously as they surround the three of you once again, their weapons aiming directly at your faces.

“Walk back to your cell,” they instruct and you follow suit, flinching when one of the pirates takes a humorous jab at your side. Obi-Wan reaches out and grabs the end, pulling it forward to unbalance the Weequay just as the other pirates point the ends of their blasters at your lover.

“Don’t touch her,” he growls and you can only wince when one of them backhand him, making the Sith Lord fall to his knees.

“Not so strong now, huh?” the group laughs at him as he stands once more, reaching up to rub at his sore cheek. “Get going.”

You finally arrive back at your jail cell where Hondo is waiting, pacing with an air of mock disappointment. Once rounded up in a circle, you are able to take Obi-Wan’s hand in yours to have him close, even for just a moment in front of these pirates that threaten to hurt you. Hondo begins to walk around the three of you like a predator to his prey, shaking his head and sighing. He steps far too close to you and you can smell the alcohol on his breath when he leans in to look over you.

“What to do? What to do?” Hondo smiles and reaches out to caress your cheek. You flinch away from him and glare as his rough hands scrape against your skin.

“I don’t want to kill you, per se. Especially you, beautiful. In fact, you seem like decent fellows… even you Darth. Once I get my money, we can go back to being friends. Hopefully more than friends. Now don’t try to complicate things by breaking out again,” Hondo winks and you and you shudder at the thought as he exits the cell, his lackeys following closely behind. The door shuts once again and you feel Obi-Wan tense up beside you.

“What a piece of work, Birdie. He was really interested in you,” Anakin mutters in disgust as Obi-Wan huffs in frustration.

“Are you okay, Obi-Wan?” you ask and turn to him as best you can, trying to read his face as he remains tense behind you.

“All these men are after you, of course I’m fine, darling. Why would you think otherwise?” he turns and shoves past Anakin as the three of you begin attempting to break out once more. You turn to glare at Anakin for the obviously flirtatious comments he was saying to try and make Obi-Wan jealous.

“Why are you looking at me?” Anakin asks and you roll your eyes at the childish nature of him. Sometimes you question how he even became a Jedi Knight in the first place.

“Focus, we need to get out before the Republic ships arrive,” you state and look out through the grates of the cell. Once again, there appears to be a knife left behind and you levitate it over, utilizing the same Force trick that Obi-Wan performed. The door slides open and this time you are even more cautious as the three of you navigate the corridors, keeping an eye out for the various pirates roaming the halls.

Sliding behind a few crates, you lean against Obi-Wan for a moment as the three of you hide from an approaching Weequay pirate. Instantly, your senses are overwhelmed by Obi-Wan and his warmth, his scent. You turn your head to face him as your noses bump together, making it painfully aware that the two of you are barely inches away from kissing.

“You two are disgusting,” Anakin mutters as the three of you stand once more and begin scurrying down the hall.

“I could say the same about you and--” Anakin instantly turns and covers your mouth with his hand as he eyes Obi-Wan.

“Not in front of him,” he states and removes his hand, walking down the hall. You glance at Obi-Wan as he narrows his yellow eyes at the younger man, silently taking in the information you had just spilled. The alarm suddenly rings out loudly to signify your escape and the three of you begin to bolt down the hallway to the nearest exit. Crates fall behind you as Obi-Wan waves his hand and Anakin leads you out an open door to the courtyard. In front of you stands a tall wall and freedom lies just beyond it. Your legs cannot carry you fast enough as Anakin grabs a pole, pointing it forward to help lift you over. When the pole catches a ledge, it curves and begins lifting Anakin off the ground. Obi-Wan aids in the group effort to get over the wall as he manipulates the Force to get you to the top. Unfortunately, it is not enough and Anakin barely catches onto the ledge, holding on it for dear life as you and Obi-Wan dangle over the edge. The two of you swing and you take a moment to regain awareness of your surroundings before a blaster hits the energy chain holding you and Obi-Wan together. Your heart skips a beat in your chest as he begins to fall, staring straight at you with his golden eyes. For a moment, you think you may lose him but you manage to swing down and catch his arms, preventing him from falling flat onto the stone. The blasters stop and escape feels even closer but Hondo’s voice fills your ears and injects fear straight into your heart.

“I guess this means we won’t be friends,” the pirates pull the three of you up and for a moment it appears as if they are sending you back to the same cell but the energy chain that binds the three of you is broken as two pirates begin pulling you away from Anakin and Obi-Wan.

“Where are you taking her?” Obi-Wan exclaims as he fights against the hold of the pirates in an attempt to get to you.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be my bargaining chip,” Hondo strokes your cheek as you watch Obi-Wan and Anakin scream out as the pirates pull them away, leaving you alone. The guards pull you into a private room, leaving you and Hondo alone together.

“I think we can have some fun before the company arrives,” he mutters and gingerly begins to touch your body. You lean in close for a moment before drawing back and striking his head with yours.

“In your dreams, bucko,” you spit out and he laughs, shaking his head. “We could have had fun, my dear,” he approaches you with a needle and roughly injects you with a blueish drug. You attempt to stay awake but your muscles begin to drag as Hondo catches you right when sleep takes over. Fear is the only thing you feel because you have no control over anything that happens to your body when you sleep. It does not take long for you to wake though and once you come to, your legs and arms are bound with energy shackles. The pirates surround you and laugh as Hondo approaches.

“Your friends came with an army, not spice. Maybe this will convince them,” he mutters and flips a switch as electricity courses through your body. The pain travels through every nerve and muscle, your vision going blurry as the pain overtakes you. For a moment, you expect death to come as your body wriggles around in pain, but you find reprieve in the feeling as Obi-Wan reaches out through the force.

‘We’re coming my love,’ he whispers just as the power goes out, the lights going out as the energy shackles disappear from around your wrists and ankles. Falling to the floor, you suck in a deep breath of air to help clear your mind. The cold stone floor serves as an escape as the jolts of electricity continue to run their course out of you. You begin to fall in and out of consciousness as a pair of strong arms pick you up from the ground.

“Darling, are you alright?” Obi-Wan’s voice comforts you as the two of you escape the compound. You groan softly before speaking up.

“Did we get them?” you ask softly as he places you onto the floor of a ship before manning the pilot seat. It hums to life the two of you take off into the depths of space, the sky disappearing as the darkness takes over. You are still a little sluggish but manage to sit up just as you cruise into hyperspace.

“Where are we going?” you ask, barely sitting up against the metal panel beside you. Obi-Wan turns to stare for a moment as the silence takes over, and the two of you are alone.

“I’m taking you to my secluded quarters where we can talk,” he states and gently reaches out to caress your cheek. You smile and press up against his glove, taking in the feel and the smell of the leather. The fatigue hits once again and you are too sluggish to even protest before sleep takes over.

You wake up on a bed. The sheets are a dark gray and soft against your skin. The thick comforter is pulled up over your body and as you adjust yourself, you feel the warmth of a man sleeping behind you. You shift your body slightly and realize that Obi-Wan’s arm is holding your body tightly against his. Your clothes are still the same, the plain brown and black cotton fabric clinging to your skin. It is comfortable, you have to admit, but you prefer sleeping in your soft robes. Obi-Wan breaths against your neck and you can feel him gently place a kiss on the nape, a smile on his lips.

“I can hear you thinking, my dear,” he whispers as you turn your body to face him.

“Sorry, I’m just worried. I’ve been away too long, the Jedi will be angry at you for taking me away,” you state and reach up to gently brush your hand over his cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he takes your hand in his and softly kisses the palm. “You won’t be away from them for too long.”

The two of you just stare. Looking into each other's eyes to make up for the lost time. You can feel the conflict battling away inside of you, crying out at the fact that the man in front of you is a Sith Lord, that he terrorizes and attacks innocents for no reason but power. And you understand this, his eyes glow yellow even in the dim lighting, but you love him so unconditionally that titles do not seem to matter. Obi-Wan in his core is not destructive, he has just been trained to be that way. You fear for the future of the war though. What happens when he leads droids against clones and you hear of the carnage, what happens when you truly see the darkness inside of him? Will that be the line he has to cross?

“What are we doing, Obi-Wan?” you ask and sigh, your body tensing up against his.

The silence scares you, striking fear deep inside you as the two of you realize the consequences of your love. What does love mean during a time of war? Does it even belong there? These questions rampage inside of you, your mind traveling at light speed.

“I don’t know,” those three words together sum up the entirety of your relationship. Obi-Wan is not the young Padawan you remember him to be, yet your heart yearns for his touch and his presence. You do not doubt that he feels the same way about you and your ties to the Jedi. While you constantly question your practices, your religion, you still are bound to it. Your duty is to serve the people, but the loyalties of the Jedi are questionable now that you fight for the Republic. When did politics come into play?

“I just wanted to spend time with you. Before the war separated us once more,” he states and you smile, shaking your head.

“I wish I could stay longer but Anakin must be worried sick,” you mutter and try to sit up but Obi-Wan pulls you back down.

“What is your relationship with that Jedi, anyway?” he asks, hiding his jealousy horribly.

“He’s like my brother, dearest. You don’t have to worry anyways, he loves another,” you peel Obi-Wan’s arms from yourself and roll out of the bed, finding a stray ribbon to tie your hair back.

“Would you mind telling me who?” he asks sweetly and you roll your eyes at his childish mannerisms.

“I can’t, dear. We’re at war,” you state and attempt to navigate your way out of this dimly lit bedroom. You take a moment to appreciate the minimalism of the rooms, taking in the sophistication as you arrive in the kitchen area. Across from the kitchen, four large windows span floor to ceiling, and you look out the glass pane to see the lava splashing against the molten rocks, lighting the entire room bright orange. Obi-Wan follows behind and wraps his arms around your waist as you watch the lava flow down the river.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks softly and presses his cheek against your forehead. You allow yourself to let the war melt away, just like the lava. It takes a moment, but you can envision a life where everything is good, where there are no Jedi or Sith, just love. Closing your eyes, you can envision Coruscant and what it might be like to live as a simple cantina owner with Obi-Wan as a normal mechanic or even a market owner. He always did love bartering.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” he asks. You look up at him and watch as a flicker of blue floats in the deep gold of his eyes.

“I can��t--I have a duty to the people,” you watch as he wants to argue but allows you to have your opinion, to escape the comfort and safety of these four walls to attend to the needs of the people. He nods and leans down to press and kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll show you the ship you can take back,” the two of you walk out to the small landing pad that contains a few smaller ships. You approach the ship and glance back at Obi-Wan, feeling your heart wrench in your chest. How easy it would be to run, to escape, and live with him. But you are not a young padawan anymore, you are a Jedi Knight and future leader of the Jedi Temple Guards. You must exercise a little more restraint. It takes everything to not run back, but you board the ship and take off without another look back at your lost lover.

Taglist: @batsdothings @danicalifxrnia @sparrows-corner @squeakingsheep @fandom-blackhole @glittersploots @wildefire

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

semi as your boyfriend

✧ semi’s the sort of guy who takes a while to adjust to being in a relationship and what that entails, but once he does, he’s ready to give it his all

✧ first of all, he lets you call him semi-semi in front of team, mostly because it gets tendou all mad. but, of course, tendou turns it in his favour, and the two of you make up a little cheering squad. semi’s constantly halfway between being annoyed and endeared by the sound of you calling his name.

✧ he’s a total show off. if you’re around during practice of a game, semi’s doing all he can to look cool. and he gets really serious about winning. the team try to organise it so that if you’re attending a game, semi gets to play for as much as possible. tendou’s always asking you to come to games because it gets semi so fired up - he’s mostly teasing, but semi does end up making more accurate sets when you’re around.

✧ he likes showing you off, too. he’s just so proud of you and everything you do, and he’s genuinely a little amazed that you’re going out with him. so, he wants people to see “how far he’s punching over his weight” - don’t worry, the team rags on him for it. but he genuinely means everything he says in his brags.

✧ he’s just a big softie for you. like,,, unbelievably soft. even you’re surprised by it. he’s very kind and gentle with you, and he has a tendency to just gaze at you adoringly. the boy’s uncontrollably fond, and there’s nothing that can stop him from expressing that-

✧ tendou - and the rest of the team, to be honest - really like having you around because you bring out that softness in semi, and you can smooth the edges of his intensity a little. even shirabu’s surprised by semi’s change in behaviour when you’re around, though it’s very subtle.

✧ when you’re alone, semi’s almost,,, embarrassingly sincere with you. he’s not afraid to say what he’s feeling or thinking, without reservation. it’s not that he’s being tactless or thoughtless with his words, he just,,, gets comfortable and then whoops his mouth has a mind of its own. definitely told you he loved you for the first time at the most random, unromantic moment possible. he just had to say it, okay-

✧ if you haven’t guessed, he’s also surprisingly sappy. compliments from him are a bit like getting slapped in the face just because of how surprising and sincere they are. he doesn’t necessarily take time to craft them into something that sounds pretty or poetic, he’ll just say whatever awkward thing came to mind. it’s mostly because he’s so intense, to be honest.

✧ once he starts finding his feet in music, you can bet he’s always performing for you. and, if the inspiration strikes him, he might just write you a song. you definitely inspire him, and every time he gets together with his band to perform, he’s thinking about you.

✧ he likes seeing you wear his clothes not only because you look cute, but because it feels like vindication - see, tendou, my casual clothes are cool, my partner’s wearing them. tendou’ll just say that you can pull it off while semi can’t, but semi’ll still count it as a victory. and, as a bonus, he gets to see you wearing his stuff, and that makes him all kinds of soft.

✧ you two get quite competitive with each other, but only over stupid shit - who got the highest score in tetris, who’s got the most purple shirts in their wardrobe (even though you share a ton of clothes), who can get to the bus stop the quickest, etc. it’s always playful competition, but semi always gets really into it and he’s terrible at conceding whenever you win

✧ but he does take you and your feelings very seriously. whenever you tell him it’s time to talk, or have something important to discuss with him, he’s nothing but serious and engaged. he genuinely listens to you, and he wants to make sure that he’s always doing right by you. all in all, semi always makes you feel very respected

✧ all he asks for is a little affirmation from time to time, and that respect returned - sincere, genuine affirmation from you can really get him through anything. and as long as he has you at his side, supporting him, he feels like he can defeat any obstacle.

✧ you have the sort of relationship where you always know you’ve got each other’s back and that’s a strong foundational rock for the two of you. as sincere as he can be, as competitive, as sappy,,, it’s all because he just loves you so much, and he’s very committed to you. please, let him know that you appreciate that. nothing’ll make him happier.

✧ semi’s got a lot of love to give; and sure, he can be a bit awkward with it sometimes, but at the end of the day, he’s a surprisingly fun, yet very loyal and supportive partner!!

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #semi eita #semi x reader #admin rowan #semi's personality is a bit elusive for me but i hope i captured him okay #boyfriend series

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jonismitchell · 3 years

Note

hey arden. i was listening to maathp and i was looking for a post i liked a while back analyzing the song that i always meant to read but never did and couldn’t find it, so i was hoping you’d give your analysis of it when you can bc you’re one of the only people who will analyze one of her songs in a way that’s more in your own way and not the “this is what the song probably means to taylor” kind of way which i kinda hate that most swifties do 💖

Hello! I read this lying in bed and thought ‘hey, this is an awesome ask, but it’s 11pm so maybe I’ll answer in the morning,’ and then I got too swept up in thinking about Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince. Now I’m up cranking out Taylor Swift analysis in the middle of the night, which is my preferred habit. (Thank you for your compliments on my specific style of analysis! I love looking critically at media and will aggressively take any opportunity to do so.)

The analysis is under the cut, because it is 1000+ words and I do not hate my mutuals. Hope you enjoy!

So, what is MAATHP about? In my opinion (a general disclaimer for this entire answer), this song is about political turmoil and an obsessive romance that anchors you through it. As a greater metaphor for the juvenile state of politics today, it’s set in a high school, which also links back to the idea of public perception being the most important thing and romantic love being all consuming. (Think Lorde’s ‘blow all my friendships to sit in hell with you, but we’re the greatest.’ That’s the vibe I get from this song.)

The first verse is as follows: You know I adore you / I’m crazier for you / Than I was at sixteen / Lost in a film scene / Waving homecoming queens / Marching band playing / I’m lost in the lights. She sets the stage for the song here: an obsessive love, a comparison to being a teenager, and specific allusions to typical American high schools. There’s a reminder of her early, Fearless-era work in the homecoming queens and marching bands, but the idea of being lost in public perception implies a darker edge than we’ve heard before.

* The ‘lights’ were formerly referenced as a context for public perception as ‘another name goes up in lights’ in The Lucky One.

Swift continues with: American glory faded before me / Now I'm feeling hopeless, ripped up my prom dress / Running through rose thorns, I saw the scoreboard / And ran for my life Quite a bit more to unpack here! The first obvious political association here is the idea of American glory fading (a reaction to the 2016 election, presumably). Our narrator destroys a standard symbol of ‘successful’ teenage years, the prom dress, in an extension on this theme. A conflict is introduced in these lines: a visual of escape, a view of the scoreboard (nice wordplay—could be a football game or a national election).

Pre-chorus: No cameras catch my pageant smile / I counted days, I counted miles / To see you there, to see you there / It's been a long time coming, but We’re again looking at the idea of public perception with the pageant smile, which is associated with beauty pageants for young women but is in the song’s context an allusion to the very social nature of political campaigning. It’s reinforced with counting days and miles, as if on the campaign trail around the country, and sets up the complete clash of personal and political for the chorus.

It's you and me, that's my whole world / They whisper in the hallway, "She's a bad, bad girl" / The whole school is rolling fake dice The primary romance of the song—the idea that the world is such a disaster that this one person is your lifeline and your world throughout it. Despite the gossip typical to high school halls, the narrator holds onto the person they love and condemns the rest of the school as liars. (Fake dice to me means a presupposed set of outcomes that don’t actually exist, i.e. there are more choices than others appear to see. Could also be a reference to ‘fake news.’)

You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes / It's you and me, there's nothing like this / Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince / We're so sad, we paint the town blue / Voted most likely to run away with you If you do something stupid, you have to accept the consequences for your actions = if you assume there are only a set number of outcomes, you force yourself into accepting the unpleasant result. (Maybe a bit too leftist for Swift’s intention, but this isn’t about her. Could also be ‘voting for Trump / not voting means you have to accept the consequences of his presidency.’) It’s in essence a condemnation of a narrow outlook.

We’re drawn back to the romance that forms the backbone of this song; between someone so perfectly American (at least on the surface, conforming to the politically and socially acceptable views of the nations) that they are ‘Miss Americana’ and their lover, the ‘Heartbreak Prince’ here to ruin it all. Both of the lovers are disappointed with their society—unclear whether it’s the school or the country, probably deliberately—so they strike back for change (vote blue), but ultimately want to escape the world that has ostracized them and is actively burning down.

My team is losing, battered and bruising / I see the high fives between the bad guys / Leave with my head hung, you are the only one / Who seems to care The second verse is pretty impressive to me from a lyrical standpoint. We can see the team as a high school’s home team or a political party, but either way they’re being fought against and beaten down. The opposition is fierce and cruel, the ‘bad guys’ who revel in their victory of cruelty. The narrator abandons this with a miserable look and her lover is the only one there to comfort her.

American stories burning before me / I'm feeling helpless, the damsels are depressed / Boys will be boys then, where are the wise men? / Darling, I'm scared The typical idea of America—good guys always win, a bootstraps / American dream narrative—is crashing before a narrator who’s held such a strong belief in it. Without the system, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, and sees this reflected in the people around her. The ‘damsels are depressed’ is a typical idea of the role women are meant to play changed by the mental health crisis. (I am extrapolating heavily, folks.)

‘Boys will be boys’ is a play on locker room talk, the culture of misogyny and assault that plagues America beneath the veneer of glory, and Swift follows by writing ‘where are the wise men;’ a biblical allusion to the idea of singular people that can remedy the faults in the system. She finally reverts back to the lover to share her fear.

No cameras catch my muffled cries / I counted days, I counted miles / To see you there, to see you there / And now the storm is coming, but We look again at the idea of public perception, a private love that outlasts the outcry in a similar way to Swift’s own ‘reputation.’ She discusses hiding from the ever-present storm (whether it be a debilitating political condition or a flurry of gossip within a high school) and holding onto that lover as a remedy for outward pain.

[Repeat of the chorus as above.]

And I don't want you to (Go) / I don't really wanna (Fight) / 'Cause nobody's gonna (Win), I think you should come home [repeated] And I'll never let you (Go) 'cause I know this is a (Fight) / That someday we're gonna (Win) This repetitive bridge, a play on a traditional cheerleader chant, highlights and contrasts the two settings in this song for a final time. The narrator displays brief hatred, reconciled to the idea of no change, and unwilling to lose her lover. Soon after (in the typical fashion of young, passionate people), there is a minute belief in the idea that the battle (against another school or political party) can be won, that it is worth sticking your neck out for, and that the narrator becomes willing to sacrifice their lover for.

It’s in this vein that the song ends with the ‘she’s a bad, bad girl’ line repeated; now symbolizing the willingness of the narrator to sacrifice themselves and their lover for a victory they fervently believe in. This 180, incidentally, is what makes the song less convincing for me—the desperation for escape turning to a preparation to be villainized—but I hope this analysis was interesting and helped you form some of your own conclusions.

#anon #asking with you #taylor swift analysis

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lovlieziam · 4 years

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Hey,I am big fan of your work like I love fluffy ziam more than anything and you mostly write that so I have read your drabbles again and again so thanks for that,I don't know if you will be online but if you can ,can you please write a fluff for Liam's birthday it's okay if you can't I will definitely understand....

Who me? Ignoring a BUNCH of other prompts in my inbox to write birthday fluff.....😅 Anyway you’re so so sweet, thank you so much for this. I’m,,,,,,,soft over it. Anyway!! Happy birthday, Liam 🤪🎉

Zayn was standing at the stove when Liam finally managed to pull himself away from his sisters at half past 3 in the afternoon. He had his back to Liam as Liam wandered into the room, hips saying to the music softly pouring from their sound system. It was an old song, one Liam couldn’t quite place, but it was obviously one Zayn knew well as he hummed along to the beat.

Liam leaned against the door jam, taking in the scene in front of him with a small, fond smile on his face. He wasn’t sure how Zayn hadn’t heard him come in—the dogs weren’t exactly quiet—but he was thankful. Thankful to be able to stand there and just soak in Zayn’s presence, enjoy the carefree sway of his body and the utterly relaxed set of his shoulder. This version of Zayn—content, confident, happy—was Liam’s favorite. Their lives were always so hectic; they hardly ever got a chance to breathe, so being able to see Zayn so comfortable and loose warmed Liam from the toes up.

A few moments later, though, Zayn did a graceless spin as the music crescendoed, stopping with a startled jump as he finally noticed Liam in the doorway.

“Liam!” Zayn exclaimed, dropping the mixing spoon in his hand to the counter before crossing the space between them. “I missed you,” he muttered against Liam’s lips, his arms wrapped around Liam’s neck as he went on his toes to press a feather-light kiss against Liam’s mouth.

Liam hummed in response, dipping his head to deepen the kiss; his own hands came up to wrap around Zayn’s hips as he pried Zayn’s lips apart, seeking out the familiar taste of want on Zayn’s lips—always so willing to surrender it to Liam. After a few moments, Liam pulled back, resting his forehead against Zayn’s with his eyes still closed.

For a moment, both men just stood there, soaking in each other’s warmth and proximity. It was weirdly soothing, Liam had to admit, just knowing Zayn was there. Knowing Zayn would always be there.

Finally, Zayn broke the silence with a quiet, “How was your birthday lunch with your sisters?”

Liam groaned, dropping his head to Zayn’s shoulder as he felt his ears heat up. “Awful. Absolutely awful. They live to embarrass me. And they wouldn’t know how not to pry if their lives depended on it.”

Zayn let out a loud laugh, one of his palms moving to run calming circles into Liam’s back.

It brought a big, sappy grin to Liam’s face.

“I’m sure you’re being dramatic,” Zayn said. Liam opened his mouth to protest, but Zayn continued with, “I think it’s just your life they want to pry in. I’m sure they don’t have the same issue with loads of other people.”

Liam let out a short, loud laugh, pinching the skin under his hands and making Zayn jump as he brought his head up to meet Zayn’s eyes.

“You’re the worst,” Liam said, but there was no heat in it, just a lingering fondness that he was hopeless to erase from his tone. What could he say? He was fond. Absolutely, completely and totally smitten.

“Yeah,” Zayn agreed, “but you still love me.”

“I really, really do,” Liam said, ducking forward to steal another kiss from Zayn’s lips before straightening up again. “What are you making?” Liam nodded towards the stove and counter next to it, where there were several bowls filled with some kind of batter, various mixing tools, and a fine powder—Liam assumes flour, maybe even sugar—littering the surface of both the stove and the counter.

“Well,” Zayn started, biting his lips and wincing a little when he took in the disaster behind him. “It’s supposed to be a birthday cake. Eventually. I, uh, make no promises on whether it actually turns into a proper one or not.”

Liam laughed again, that familiar love and fondness swelling in his chest and spreading until he was warm all over and about to burst with it.

God, but did he love this boy so much.

“I’m sure it’s going to turn out amazing, Zed. I can’t wait to eat it.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, turning so that Liam couldn’t see the pleased smile or the red tint his ears took, but it was too late. Liam had already seen both, and it made his own smile soften.

He was so incredibly in love with Zayn, and it was because of all the small things—like this—that he did. Understanding Liam’s need to just stay in for his birthday—no big party, no crowded club, no faking it for the cameras. Insisting on Liam keeping up his birthday tradition of lunch with his sisters—something that had taken a back seat since the band got really famous, something he’d been itching to pick up again—just knowing it was something Liam missed so much, even though he’d never actually voiced that fact. Making him a homemade cake because he knew Liam appreciated subtle gestures.

Sometimes Liam was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of affection he felt for Zayn, surprised by the amount of love he was capable of feeling for one person.

He walked up to the counter, examining the bowls with a purposefully innocent face. “It looks like you’ve got a good start with all the batter. How long have you been at it?”

Zayn followed him, walking up behind him and tucking his chin over Liam’s shoulder.

“Dunno,” Zayn murmured. “Like, a little under an hour, maybe?”

Liam hummed, bringing a hand up to pull one of the bowls closer to himself. He shot a quick glance Zayn’s way, but Zayn wasn’t paying him any attention. He was focused on the various batters littering the counter, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Recognizing his opportunity to strike, Liam dipped his middle and pointer finger in the batter, scooping some up to quickly wipe it down Zayn’s nose, the batter running sluggishly to the tip.

Zayn let out a startled noise, jerking back from Liam and fat drops of it dripped off his nose and onto his lips, down his chin. He lifted wide, shocked eyes up to Liam

“Oops,” Liam said, a faux innocent look painted on his features that was fooling neither of them.

“Oho ho,” Zayn muttered, taking a step back into Liam’s space. “It is on.” And with that he was reaching his own hand forward, scooping a handful of batter before smearing it down Liam’s face before Liam could make a run for it.

Liam laughed as the batter trickled down his face, the thick rivulets tickling and sticking uncomfortablely to his eyelashes. He brought a hand up to wipe his eyes—see also: uselessly smear batter everywhere—before a wicked grin lit up his face. “Oh it absolutely is on.”

And then him and Zayn were off, both trapping the nearest bowl of batter and running around the kitchen, flinging it at each other while ducking behind various furniture, throwing empty insults and wildly inaccurate trash talk at each other all while laughing.

“Okay!” Zayn finally shouted, hiding behind tall-backed chair, his head peeking out over the top just enough that he could see Liam. “I’m all out of batter, I yield.”

“Promise?” Liam asked. “Because if I come out from here and you throw more batter at me, I will crush you, Malik.”

Zayn laughed, fully rising from his hiding spot so he could show Liam his empty bowl and raised hands. “I promise,” he said. “I don’t even have any batter to trick you with.”

Liam grinned, letting out a crow of victory as he stood up from his own crouch. He swiftly closed the space between him and Zayn, taking both of their bowls and setting them on the counter.

“I win.” Liam grinned at Zayn, who rolled his eyes in response.

“You did,” Zayn agreed. “All hail the birthday king.”

Liam laughed, sending a wink Zayn’s way. Zayn just grinned back up at him, his smile fond and disgustingly in love. It made Liam’s heart beat out a stattico rhythm against his rib cage. That smile was addicting. It was what their friends had dubbed his Liam smile, and it never failed to make Liam’s knees go a little weak.

“I love you,” Liam murmured, reaching forward to cup Zayn’s sticky, batter covered cheek. “So fucking much.”

Zayn’s grin softened, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into Liam’s hand. “You, too, Li. I love you so much, too.”

Liam sighed, contentment coursing through him as he leaned forward to place a sweet, thorough kiss to Zayn’s lips. It tasted like too sweet batter, but it was perfect. Zayn was perfect.

“Good,” Liam whispered when he finally pulled away. “Because it’s my birthday, and that means I get a free pass on cleaning up the mess we’ve made in the kitchen.”

Zayn’s indignant squawk almost couldn’t be heard over Liam’s loud laughter. Almost.

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