#p!fo: white blood

[phonydiaries]

Target Practice - P x Reader

Warnings: reader getting the absolute shit kicked out of them by enemies and a significant amount of blood and violence. Other than that, nothing I think? 

---

The cold hard clang of your steel blade hitting the marble column rings through the courtyard. 

Off target. 

You’re fucking off target, again.

You step back, try to redistribute the weight of the weapon in your hands. Your palms are sweaty, your grip becoming loose and clumsy. You blink hard, eyes trained on the dummy. Somehow in its blank expression you see pity. Mockery. The knowledge that for all your effort, it's not enough. 

You’re not strong enough. 

Anger rises to a rolling boil in the pit of your stomach. You slash the dummy across its felted chest. It’s a poor hit, sloppy and devoid of form. You’ve been at this for hours, hacking away fruitlessly in the courtyard. You wince and bring a hand to quell the stinging pain in your side. Under your clothes you know the skin is still raw; all rust-colored and lacerated. It was that very wound which led you to this obsessive over-exertion in the first place. 

Three nights past you had very nearly perished in the arms of Gepetto’s puppet. 

In your half-conscious delirium, you hardly remember all the details of the mission gone impossibly wrong. You and P had stalked into the night together, watching each other's backs carefully. There were the typical dust-ups, mundane scrapes and bruises and otherwise totally expected snags. None of this phased you, it was standard fare. But somewhere in the now fluid and tenuous events of that night, you got careless. You must’ve. How else would you find yourself backed into a corner, disarmed, swarmed by a legion of damnable automatons. This piece of the memory is both vivid and obscured, bits and pieces of sensation overwhelming in their clarity and others entirely lost to you. You have no idea how many times you were struck or with what manner of weaponry. 

You recall curling in on yourself on the ground, arms twisting above your head in a desperate attempt at self preservation. And then all at once there was a mad chaos surrounding you. The air crackled with electricity, brazen sparks of light, the smell of smoke, a horrible crunch of faulty machinery. Your head pulsed dully as a cold arm slipped around your torso and heaved you upright. White hot pain shot through your body and you cried out in the darkness. Your eyes wavered open long enough to catch P, looking as grim as you had ever seen him, carefully scooping you up, your legs dangling limp over his human arm. 

The journey to Hotel Krat was one which you were almost certain you would not live to see the end of. For starters, your hands and feet had gone utterly numb, probably thanks to the outpouring of blood from your abdomen, which ran thick and viscous down the front of P’s shirt as he carried you. The parts of your body that could still feel throbbed with a terrible searing pain and you longed for a spell of unconsciousness. This was in fact soon to come, after a ghastly cough which left the metallic taste of iron in your mouth and even more bloodstains on your poor companion’s clothes. As your vision faded you only mumbled to him, 

“Sorry… Oh God, I’m sorry…” 

You were bedridden for the better half of two days, floating in and out of consciousness like a specter. Flashes of things from that night, dreamlike and watery, come back to you, pilling at the edges of your mind. P bursting through the doors of Krat in a frenetic panic, your head lolling against his chest, your body shivering relentlessly from loss of blood. The marble floors of the hotel were stained a deep crimson. You recall Sophia rushing to meet you both, communicating with P in some way you couldn’t understand either due to the nonverbal nature of it or of the way your head swam every time you opened your eyes. Somehow you were brought to your room, and faintly recall the dressing of your wounds, a feeling of coolness on your forehead, some herbal concoction being held to your mouth, its contents warm and sweet. 

Though most of those days were spent in a deep and cavernous slumber, when you were lucid enough to open your eyes, to perceive the room around you, you’re certain that Pinocchio had never left your side. With each foggy fragment, there he knelt at your bed; brows knitted and hands clasped over his mouth as he leaned forward on his elbows. A thoughtful intensity had overcome him, and in this posture, he seemed almost to be praying. 

He doesn’t know what to do with me. You thought to yourself. He knows now how easily I’m broken.

In the brief moments Pinocchio could be pulled from your side, Sophia took gentle inspection and inventory of your condition. In one such instance you suddenly found yourself tearful, frustration and guilt wracking the whole of your being. Sophia attempted comfort and assured you it was not out of weakness that you had landed yourself bleak and bloodied in this bed, that it wasn’t a fair fight, that this could’ve happened to anyone. But it didn’t. It happened to you. You who were charged to accompany Pinocchio in all his ventures. You who were meant to be his trusted companion, his ally, his protector when it was required of you. He was made of magic after all, and you were only a mere human. Expendable. You’d failed him. 

Yesterday was the first time you had even managed to stand since it all happened. You walked barefoot in pyjamas through the hotel, searching for P in silence. The cold marble is a shock to the soles of your feet and you wrap your arms around yourself at the draft that ripples beneath the loose fitting silk sleepclothes. When you finally catch sight of him in the library tucked between the towering shelves, your throat goes completely dry and tight. Your eyes feel glassy. You can’t face him knowing how he last saw you, making a fool of yourself. A sorry excuse for a soldier. 

That evening it was impossible to bring yourself to dream. Thoughts ruminated, their thorned and gnarled roots delving deep into the recesses of your restless sleep. In the darkness, you change clothes and take your weapons from their holding place and head for the garden. You wanted to blow off steam at first, just clear your head. But as you night crept slowly into dawn, hues of blue and indigo shifting into a brilliant orange, here you still stood. Haggard and weary in the garden with callouses burning into your palm. Fixation on failure had poisoned you. 

You were exhausted. The wear of such exercise would’ve been present even in your normal physical condition, but the presence of deep yellowing bruises and disrupted gashes along your limbs made it all the more wretched. You would not allow your body even a moment of peace. How could you quit now? How when your mind still ran rampant and relentless?

You glare at the dummy before you with pointed bitterness. With a groan you slice wildly across its throat, and the lifeless head tumbles into the grass. Your shoulders slump forward at the weight of your sword. You stare at the head, rolling to a stop. Hair falls over your eyes in an unkempt curtain and you find it difficult to catch your breath. Some stalker I am. You think to yourself. 

You’re drawn out of the ever-tangled web of self-pity by a feeling of being watched. You throw a glance over your shoulder, and there he is. Your trusted Pino. 

You feel sick.

At the knowledge of his presence, you straighten up your posture and readjust your clothes. It’s pointless, you know, but still. You don’t want him seeing you like this. You attempt to coolly smooth your hair back and acknowledge him with a nod, not knowing what to say. The two of you stand, shifting your weights awkwardly, in a permeating silence. 

P is the first to attempt conversation, pointing in the direction of your bedroom, his face portraying confusion. 

“Ah. I’m fine now.” You lie, poking absentmindedly at the ground with your weapon. “Sophia gave me some… something or other. I’m right as rain.” 

P doesn’t look convinced, and he shouldn’t be. You were knocking on Death's door not 48 hours ago. You hadn’t forgotten he was the one to lug your delirious self for miles, pale and languid and spurting blood. It's a service for which you’re afraid he can never be repaid. He reaches for your hand, but you flinch away. His eyes flash with something deeply sad and your heart crumbles. 

You’re being cruel.

But you can’t accept his help anymore; he can’t keep offering you these undeserved kindnesses. You want to say sorry, not just for swatting him away, but for everything. For not being more careful, for causing him so much worry, for putting both your lives at risk. But you don’t. Instead you turn your back to him and kick up dirt. 

“You can just go back inside, P.” 

Your face feels hot and you wonder if you’re really going to cry with him still standing there. As salty tears pool at the corner of your eye, you feel a sharp prick in your back. You yelp and whip your head around to find P now equipped with his rapier, holding it to your back. You lift your sword reflexively in return.

“I’m not in the mood for-” You start, but are cut off as he crosses his weapon with yours. Your eyes scan from the hilt of his rapier to meet his eyes, which narrow at you. The corner of his mouth is lifted just barely in an inviting and appetitive smirk. You resist returning the look, which disappoints him. You give in just a little and draw your weapon to his chest. Now his expression is broken into a full blown boyish smile. It’s almost enough to lure you out of yourself. Almost. 

The duel begins between the two of you at a crawling pace; there’s a kind of thoughtfulness to your movements. You size one another up as if this were the first time your swords had crossed and not an uncountable thousandth. Your steps are in orbit with each other, methodical, calculated. His gaze is unrelenting and makes something in your chest twinge. 

You catch even yourself off guard by striking first, but of course he’s able to parry it easily, shaking the rhythm of your movement. He slashes back at you and your blade catches his, just barely, as it slides away with a ring. A minute inkling of pride swells in you. 

You’re surprised at how quickly things between the two of you seem to realign; it’s all in an ebb and flow, but it's good. It’s real, this energy you feel in practice with him.You’re struck suddenly with the thought that the simple act of sparring could never feel so -you can’t think of a better word for it than- spiritual with anyone but him. The bond you’ve cultivated, held and protected between yourselves is inimitable, ritualistic in a sense. A private and intimate practice between you and he. 

By the time the sun descends into the horizon, casting its shadows deep across the garden walls, the two of you have succeeded in making an absolute mess of the space and of yourselves. The dummies have become innocent casualties to the line of fire, and several rose bushes hang limply in ribbons, their crimson petals strewn about carelessly. As for you; your hair is whipping across your face, clothes rumpled. You’d both thrown off your coats a while ago, the practice making you sweat. You move wildly in tandem with the puppet, each of you equally stubborn not to crack. It was endearing, you had to admit, the competitive streak in your trusted companion. But your iron will would win out in the end. 

At the very edge of the courtyard where two walls meet, you face P, your mouth set sternly in a straight line, brow furrowed in concentration. You’ve been waiting for him to falter this whole time. Unfortunately as a puppet he seems far less prone to such follies as a mere mortal like yourself. However, he’s also less accustomed to common human tricks. With only the tiniest bit of guilt, you widen your eyes and drop your jaw, gesturing behind the boy in front of you. You watch his immovable expression twitch and his eyes follow the sharp line of your finger. 

And with that, your window is open.

With a well timed flick of your sword, you disarm your opponent, and his rapier clatters to the ground. The tip of your blade rests firmly at the center of his chest. 

P’s head spins to look back at you, his face awash with betrayal. You can’t help smiling. It was so stupid, so juvenile, so unbelievably oldest-trick-in-the-book that you honestly can’t believe it worked. But that doesn’t matter. You’ve won. 

P’s face drops and he shakes his head at your victory, but you see the glimmer of a grin beneath it all. He’s happy to see you like your old self again. 

“Oh cheer up, poor puppet boy.” You say, a lilt in your voice. You inch forward and draw your weapon up to the collar of his shirt. It wilts at the touch of your sword and his pale freckled collarbone is just barely exposed. “Better luck next time.”

Your eyes flicker back to his face and you’re surprised to find it softened into an expression even you don’t recognize. It’s watery, shifty and an utter mystery to you. His attentions seem to play tug of war between you and your weapon. You quirk an eyebrow quizzically, but he offers you no answers. You feel something akin to annoyance towards him, as if he’s being purposefully coy with you. Almost absentmindedly, your blade draws an invisible thread away from the dip of his collarbones to his throat. 

You watch, waiting for him to flinch. He doesn’t. Instead, the strait of his jaw settles against the blade of your sword. His eyes close and he looks as if he’s sinking into a warm embrace rather than cold hard steel. Despite the warmth of exertion, you feel a shiver run down your spine. A prickling curiosity rises in you. Experimentally, you tilt the blade gently against the square of his jaw. He lifts his chin in response, leaving his throat vulnerable to your will. The pieces click in  your mind. It’s a display of trust; of total devotion. He’s putting himself in your hands, and you want to grasp at him greedily. 

His beauty is intimidating, looking nothing short of an angel in the firelight of the setting sun. The orange glow bounces from your sword in a soft line that settles over his face, and the waning sunlight catches the edges of his pitch dark hair like a halo. Deep shadows of violet are cast beneath his brow, giving his eyes the appearance of two precious stones hewn into living rock. 

You feel yourself impossibly drawn to him in the heat of the moment. You attempt to maintain your coolness, and lower the blade. You do this slowly, savoring each minute movement as he lowers his head to meet your gaze. You open your mouth to speak but no words fall from your parted lips. Your hand twitches around your weapon and you toss it to the ground. It’s much too heavy to hold suddenly. 

You step forward. Pino steps back. His back is pressed flat against the marble wall now. 

Fuck. 

Your heart pounds beneath your ribcage and you wonder if he can hear it, that desperate thudthudthud. The sight of him proves too overwhelming. Your mind is no longer flooded with doubts of your strength, of his care for you, of your deep bond. Fuck it all. You need him like air. 

In one swift motion your hand is at the back of his head, your fingers instantly lost in the mess of ravens-feather curls. Your mouths crash together clumsily, though you hardly care. Your free hand scrambles to find his waist and you pull him close against your body. 

Against your lips you feel his breath. A sound somewhere between a gasp and a whine is pulled from his mouth and you feel weightless as it echoes in your mind. You break your point of connection and hold his chin firmly in your palm. Gentle handling doesn’t come easy to you. This all feels like a long time coming, you realize. Perhaps this fire was lit long before you had the words for it. Before you ever had a chance of keeping it buried in your chest. Instead now it overcomes you. 

With his face held tenderly in your hand, you admire each striking feature like a work of art. He does have a certain greek statuesque quality after all. His lids look heavy, dark lashes fluttering. The spread of freckles across his nose is illuminated by a subtle but undeniable ruddy pink. 

You can feel his eyes on you now, as if he just woke from a dream, stepping into awareness again. He flinches towards you, but stops himself, mouth slightly agape in anticipation. You wonder if he has the capacity for nervousness. The thought is sort of charming. You sweep a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Any day now, tin man.” You tease.

And before you have time to yelp, you find yourself in the dewey grass with a dully aching head. Pinocchio’s legion arm comes into focus, pressed palm-down into the patch of earth beside your head. Your eyes travel up the arm until you’re face to face with the puppet again. You’re stunned. His human hand drags along your cheek and the ends of his dark hair brush against your face. Your face flushes and you feel stupid; he doesn’t seem to mind. He recaptures you in a kiss and you feel yourself melt into the ground. 

Soon your hand is lost in his hair again, your fingertips dragging along the back of his neck. You’re so tempted to leave an imprint on the fair skin of his neck, to temporarily marr his delicate appearance. God, what would Sophia and the others think? You opt for a less visual approach and tug at the back of his head. Pino’s shoulders tense in surprise, and as you take a moment to breathe you catch his brows creasing together, eyes fluttering shut. Did you just send a shiver down the poor puppets spine? 

Your hand retains its firm grasp at the base of his skull and you press your foreheads together. His skin is cool and smooth and feels to you like fresh air. You soak in the feeling and begin a ritualistic repositioning of limbs until you’re straddling his lap, elbows propped up on his sturdy shoulders, your palms cradling his freckle-flecked face. His arms are anchored around your waist and you have to lean down to meet him. The look he gives you is nothing short of intoxicating, all needy eyes and shallow breath.

God, you feel drunk. 

The fingers of his legion arm twitch and you feel them slip just barely beneath the hem of your shirt. You place one hand over his, about to guide it further, give him permission to be less of a gentleman, when something crackles above your head. 

As you listen closely, flecks of rain begin to spatter across your skin. You look up at the sky. The sun has set and in its place hangs a cloud-obscured moon and a flash of blue lightning across the stars. In an instant, rain pours over you, cold and heavy. P raises his arm to cover his head and offers the other to you. Scrambling to stand with the wet grass beneath your feet, you loop your arm through his. You stumble forward and feel a laugh bubble forth from your mouth. You didn’t even know it was there. Pinocchio tips his head at you, puzzled, but you’re dizzy and hot and the rain feels good and cold on your aching muscles and your head is still reeling with the taste of him on your tongue and you laugh all the way through the courtyard and the entryway until you collapse against the wall. 

Once you’re both inside, P examines your face, tipping it every which way as if ensuring you haven’t lost your mind. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you choke between lingering bouts of snickering. You shake your head. It feels as though you’ve been thrown into a hurricane of emotional and physical extremes and are only now finding your footing again in normalcy. The relief makes you lightheaded. Pino acts as your trusted lifeline, firmly holding you in place at the waist. As you stand dripping in the corridor, you realize you haven’t really spoken since the night of the ambush. 

“I never thanked you.” You start, “For keeping me alive, I mean. If it weren’t for you finding me…” His face falls completely as you trail off, eyes becoming dark and stormy. He must hate thinking about it. The realization makes you a bit embarrassed. Your gaze darts to the ground. “I just um. I wish I could repay it.” And as you say it, with your face still in his hands, he presses a kiss to your dewey forehead. It warms you from the inside. Your hand finds his and you squeeze tight. 

“Come on.” you murmur against his ear. You pull at your soaked-through clothes and gesture down the hall.  “I’ve got to get out of these clothes.” 

And with that, you lead him away to your room.

#p x reader #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lop #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #hurt/comfort #kiss the fucking puppet #tw blood #ANGST #lies of p fanfic #my fic

[waiting-on-a-dream]

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟎𝟕: 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐮 𝐑𝐢𝐧

"What's wrong with this place? I hate it. Let me out of here!"

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨

Name: Shigeru Rin / 茂 凛 (His last name means "luxuriant, lush" and his first name means "dignified, severe, cold".)

Status: Prisoner 007

Gender: Male

Age: 14

Birthday: July 26 (Leo)

Height: 158 cm

Blood type: A

Image color: #F8C8DC

Occupation: Middle school student

Personality: Rin is a fussy child with no qualms on complaining about something if he doesn't like it. He could nitpick on anything, so he isn't very popular with his peers if that isn't obvious enough.

He will get upset with someone scolds him though, mostly out of a fear of being "wrong". If someone tells him that the way he's acting is "wrong", he'll throw a tantrum and won't stop until they "forgive" him.

However, if someone is nice and patient enough to put up with his behavior, he'll warm up to them eventually. Then he'll start following them around and try to talk to them whenever he can, like a puppy.

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨

Which canon Milgram song he would cover: This is how to be in love with you (Giving you love to the point of pulling you down; It’s just because I still get worried, please forgive me) (HELP I looked through the current list of Milgram songs and this is the one that would fit him best. 😭 How is this even possible?)

Which DECO*27 song he would cover: Parasite (The lyrics fit well~ And the MV suits his aesthetic too.)

If he could cover a song by a different Vocaloid producer, which one would it be: Grow apart by Yasuha

His MV description: His MV most likely takes place in a park. Cherry blossoms are the main theme of the MV, so pink shows up a lot.

The MV starts with Rin and another girl walking along the path of a park. it's springtime and the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. The atmosphere is almost romantic.

They stop to buy some drinks from a vending machine along the way. They then sit down to rest by a bench nearby a playground, their hands linking together in a pinky promise. The MV doesn't reveal what kind of promise they're making.

As the music picks up dramatically, the camera shows a shot of Rin's hand with his pink outstretched, as if he had just finished with the promise. Another shot of the girl's hand drawing back as well. A third shot of both their hands withdrawing from each other.

The camera cuts to a cherry blossom petal falling from the flower, slowly drifting down to the ground. The MV ends.

𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

-- 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Apprehensive) My name is Shigeru Rin. I'm 14 and a junior high school student. Hey, what is this place? I don't like it. Who are you? Let me out of here! (Panicked)

(Dejected) S* **u d*d fo*g** ou* p*om**e.

-- 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

Penny for your thoughts?

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

His favourite colour is light purple.

His favourite food is dango.

He tends to wear black and white clothes often.

He secretly enjoys feminine stuff. Pink, purple, hearts, fluffy teddy bears and the like. He's afraid he'll get teased for it though, so he keeps his preferences to himself.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

I cannot draw. So picrew saves the day once again!

I really like his design. He actually does look like a 14 year old boy.

If he could cover a non-vocaloid song, it'd definitely be Dusk, mistaken for a dream by After the Rain. I mean, his MV is inspired by the MV of the song. The lyrics fit well too.

#prisoner 007: shigeru rin #milgram #milgram oc #milgram project #milgram original character

[flwrsatsuns3t]

Okay I have an idea for an ATWOW fic but yall gotta lmk I'd you'd read it :p

Also I am new to writing, so I gladly accept any constructive criticism or feedback! <3

♡꙼̈ ࿐ ࿔

Thought Process:

In both films, we see a strong connection between the Na'vi people and "Eywa". Their spiritual beliefs just as strong, they all sort of know that Eywa is real or a real god/goddess. So if we have the story of Toruk Makto from the time of the first songs, and that time period dates back to the start of their civilizations, shouldn't they have more stories other than Toruk Makto? Folklore, even? Stories that were passed down through oral communication, from generation to generation. Almost like we have old nursery rhymes or stories our parents tell us, shouldn't the Na'vi have them too?

The tag(s) would be (Avatar: The Way Of Water Folklore!AU, ATWOW: Folklore!AU)

♡꙼̈ ࿐ ࿔

Backstory for my version/interpretation of the AU:

Tw: Mentions of death and war

Long ago existed a clan called the Nga'ilu tribe, they were fierce and know for their powerful warriors and strategic battles. They were from the time of the first songs, some of the first strongest fighters of their time. Unfortunately, it all came to an end one gory night when they were ambushed by an enemy clan. They were caught by surprise, as they resided in the depths of pandoras jungle and were confident that they could not be found, so they needed not stand by warriors or barriers of any kind. The jungle was their fortress, and the homes they built along with a large quantity of their people were lost in a raging fire. There were many losses, and the Olo'eyktan of the Nga'ilu tribe grew wary. But among all of the grieving and turbulence of emotions throughout the clan, came a gift. A blessing from Eywa, in their time of loss.

A child was born, conceived by one of the many mothers who where mourning their mates. But whence this child was born, they were...different from all the other Na'vi newborns. The newborn girl had white skin, pale blue stripes wrapped around her arms and legs. Some of the stripes creeped up on her face, but they were not very visible, shocking the women whom helped the mother through birth. As well as a weird marking that appeared on her chest, right between her collarbones, almost like a tribe symbol. It was a swirl with a long triangle under it. Once she fluttered her eyes open for the first time, they were of a purplish red hue. But the mother grew worried, as her child seemed to look past her every time she stood directly in front of her. She also soon found out after observing her child that her eyes seemed to shake from side to side, almost unintentionally. All of it was quite abnormal, so she was not very shocked when she went to the clan Tsahik and found her baby was in fact blind. The Tsahik thought it might have been some kind of weird skin disease, but the mother was convinced this was not natural. Unfortunately, the Tsahik had similar concerns.

The Olo'eyktan eventually found out, through his mate and rumors that he ended up hearing. About this child that was born conveniently after the rather short-lived war, a child with ash white skin and blood red eyes. He was furious after hearing the news, fueled by fear for his clan into believing it was some kind of curse put upon them. That their enemy clan had poisoned the blood of that soldiers unborn child. He demanded the child to be thrown out of the tribe, and if the mother were to refuse, that she was to get executed. And after the Tsahik confirmed his beliefs, many of the Na'vi believed them, for they were their leaders and knew what was best for them. And the mother was scared, so scared for her child to be taken away from her, for this blessing that had come into her life after such a horrible event. So she did what she thought was best, and hid the child from the clan. They believed the child to be dead, and so she continued raising her baby in secret. Her 'eveng.

Although the mother hid this for quite some time, it was barely 2 years until someone saw her child crawling out of her tent in search for her Mother. It had only been a few minutes, she went to fetch fruits for her child. Yet the one time she decides to leave her 'eveng alone, her secret is revealed. Her stomach drops when she finds the clan Tsahik holding her child, grimacing at the physical touch as if she were some kind of monster. She begs for her baby to be left alone, for them to live freely, for anything. They had done nothing wrong, so why must her child's life be taken? But her words fall on deaf ears, and she is forced to choose what to do. If she does nothing, she will be killed and so will her child. But if she gets rid of her and saves her own life, then that child will die in the cruel wilderness. The mother chooses the second option, hoping and praying that Eywa might give her another chance. And so, that is how this child of Eywa herself ends up roaming the vastness of trees and wild plants for as far as her hands and legs could take her.

This child that grows to become a sacred, shape-shifting being, said to be raised by nature and the animals that inhabited the jungles. Na'vi say she seemed to glow, as she walked through paths of grass and caressed the trees that seemed to grow endlessly towards the sky.

This child that represents purity, and is said to be a playful spirit. That she shapes the land itself to confuse travelers, and that they could hear the sound of her giggles in the distance whenever you get lost. But most people say she's a protector.

When Na'vi children roam too far into the trees and away from their clan, she would be there watching over them. Making sure any wild animals stayed away, and that the children didn't get hurt as their parents searched for them. Sometimes she would show herself to the children in the shape of a young Na'vi woman if they needed comfort.

Although, she is mostly know for being the messenger of Eywa. She would appear in the Na'vi people's dreams, and tell them the messages of their dead loved ones. She would tell you how proud they are, or how they congratulate your success.

She represents light. She is a guardian. She is a messenger of the people.

Her name is Maeve'ule.

Tysm for reading!!

Word count - 920

Character count - 4,949

Word Meanings

- Olo'eyktan: Clan Leader

- Tsahik: Clan Healer/Shaman

- 'Eveng: Child

#avatar way of water #avatar #folklore #alternate universe #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #fiction #fantasy #fic inspo #fic ideas #my writing #writing #original character

[ackusknal]

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[saintobio]

of lovers and liars. (final)

↳ suna rintarou/fem!reader

genre. play, tragedy, historical, angst

tags/warnings. written in script format, usage of archaic language, very ooc, sexual assault/harassment (not involving the ml), kidnapping, poisoning, drugging, blood, murder/massacre, suicide, arranged marriage, polygyny, minor and major character death

notes. dammit it was more painful in my head. anyways, the whole play has 22k words. direct quotes from this final act were derived from shakespeare’s two gentlemen of verona and richard iii. fic header is from the manhwa wished you were dead. please skip act vii scene i for the sa scene if it's triggering. also, do give this song a listen for this final act.

athain and faren map :: faren politics :: facts about athain and faren

ACT I-II -> ACT III-IV -> ACT V-VI -> ACT VII (FINAL)

ACT VII

SCENE I. In bed. Unknown location.

Enter YOU, waking up with an intense headache. As you slowly open your eyes, you realize that you are in an unfamiliar room and wearing nothing but a thin nightgown under the sheets. A prickling sensation shot up your spine, disquieting you from the horrors of last night’s events. You put a hand in your mouth as a wave of acid wells up from your stomach.

YOU

H-Holy goddess Athena, I seek your protection. P-Please tell me this is a nightmare. Lest it be real, I fear for my sanity.

Enter CROWN PRINCE FIONN, holding a glass of wine, walking inside the chamber in his white robe.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

Are you awake?

YOU

(clutching the sheets, hysterical) S-Stay away! What did you—what have you done unto me?! You cruel tyrant! You evil villain! Yet again you force yourself into me! H-Have you no mercy?

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

I have, and that is why you are here. Do you know where you are, my darling?

The prince sits on the corner of the bed and places the glass on the bedside table, soon gripping your wrists and leaning in to place his lips on your cheek. You tremble in fear and try to resist as tears fall from your eyes.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN (CONT’D)

Save those tears. You are not in Athain. My father would have kill’d me had I brought you back. He does not understand my affection for you and calls it an obsession. That is why he order’d for you to be exiled—to have you far, far away from me, when all I proposed to him was to arrange a marriage for us.

(laughing under his breath) Did you think I would have you exiled, my lady? Never can I let you leave my side. Therefore, here I take you, hidden at an estate in Cilicia—a land bestowed upon me by my late mother. In this manor, you shall stay for the time being until I become the emperor. I will reinstate your status and make you my empress. And to do that, I shall imbrue my hands with my own father’s blood so we can rule Athain together.

YOU

(sobbing and quivering) Fie! I rather not be with the man who made my life miserable! To marry you is to dishonor my father and mother’s death! You sick, twisted man! You repel me!

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

For you, I will do anything and yet, you deny me? What right do you have?

YOU

A right to live in peace! I would choose being a commoner rather than an empress of a tyrannous emperor.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

You have little choice, my lady. You are mine.

YOU

Away, you! I-I despise you. I am not yours, I am my husband’s. All the love I can give, I have given him.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

(smiling through clenched jaws) A husband, you say? A husband that loathes you? If that duke truly cares for you, how come he neglects you?

YOU

(in despair) H-His wives are manipulative. You know nought a single thing.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

Speak none of his name. I could care less about that foolish duke and his equally foolish wives. If you become my empress, I will not take a concubine.

YOU

(pushes him away) Your Highness, you are a curse! Just let me die—

The blond prince shoves you back on the mattress and pins you under him. While you scream and struggle from his grasp, he tightens his grip on your wrists and reaches for the glass, forcing your jaws open and spilling every drop of liquid into your mouth. Your eyes widen in terror as you begin to choke from the spiked drink.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

You are more beautiful when you are silent, my fair mistress. Lay still while I offer you my worship.

YOU

(falling into a state of paralysis) R-Rin, p-please… h-help…

He rips your nightgown open to expose your skin and begins to trail kisses on your bare thighs, caressing every dip and curve of your body with his fingers. As he moves to undo the tie on his robe, you feel his lips diving onto your chest. Hot tears start spilling from the corner of your eyes while you look up at the ceiling and refuse to see the horrid actions that he will soon do to your body.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

(kissing your neck) At long last, I have you.

Exeunt

SCENE II. Outside the manor.

Enter DUKE RINTAROU and IONE; the former is sleepless and anxious for not having heard from you for two days ever since you disappeared from the night of the banquet.

IONE

Your Grace, I speak the truth. I do not believe my good madam will run away unprovoked. Duchess Hera and Lady Ci’an’s claims are false.

DUKE RINTAROU

Y/N has taken spare clothing and her jewels. Do you understand what that means? And why did you not attend to her at the night of the banquet? This is all due to your negligence.

IONE

B-But Duke, that eve… the duchess put me on other duties and I was forced to bade her commands. The head maid was the one who stay’d with Lady Y/N last. That being such, it is in my honest belief that the madam was told not to come to the banquet.

DUKE RINTAROU

(holding his breath, staring at the gloomy sky) I believe so, but everyone in this estate tells otherwise.

IONE

That is because they are loyal to the duchess.

DUKE RINTAROU

How will I find my wife? Tell me for I will turn into a madman. The last I spoke to her, I ask’d her to live and die as she wished. Those words did not come from my heart, but I fear it is the reason she fled to another land.

Enter NURSE, hiding in a cloak.

NURSE

Your Grace, I wish to speak humbly to you. My guilt can never let me live in peace when you have been nothing but generous to my family. I stand here before you at the risk of my life.

DUKE RINTAROU

What say you, nurse? Be clear and concise.

NURSE

The gentle madam—she did no wrong, not even once. Duchess Hera and Lady Ci’an have both conspired to ruin her image in your eyes. They did as much as give her tea that soon kill’d your child with her. The duchess is fearful that you will give her nobility to Lady Y/N, and so…

The nurse continues to recount all the lies and the sufferings you have faced with his other wives. Upon hearing the cruelty that you have faced, the duke staggers on his feet—distraught and heartbroken—as he holds on to a light post for support. He feels lightheaded and is about to faint from everything that he was told.

IONE

Ay me! Your Grace, are you alright?

DUKE RINTAROU

(sorrowful, gripping the lightpost tightly) Misery me! I have failed as a man and a husband. I vow’d to believe her, to protect her, to be on her side, and yet I have not done my part. I am too sore—this heart of mine! Under love’s heavy burden do I sink and so oft did I get fool’d by countless lies!

Enter KNIGHTS

KNIGHT 1

Duke, we have search’d the entire village and could not find the madam.

KNIGHT 2

Should we proceed to nearby territories and continue our search?

DUKE RINTAROU

(in a sudden fit of rage) Go thither! Have Hera and Ci’an lock’d up in a dungeon. Let no one attend to them until I return to the estate. To strike them dead, I hold it not a sin, but a privilege.

KNIGHTS

Aye, Your Grace.

Enter CROWN PRINCE OSAMU and the IMPERIAL KNIGHTS

CROWN PRINCE OSAMU

(rushing to the duke) Rintarou, a word with you!

DUKE RINTAROU

What hastens Your Highness?

CROWN PRINCE OSAMU

It is about your wife. She stays at Cicilia—I fear you will dislike my news, howbeit, you must know—

DUKE RINTAROU

What says of my love?! Where is she?

CROWN PRINCE OSAMU

—the vicious Crown Prince of Athain has forced himself onto her.

DUKE RINTAROU

(livid and horrified) How do you—

CROWN PRINCE OSAMU

My bird, Argus, that wanders freely at night. He is a witness to her abduction and has follow’d her up north. Argus arrived back in Faren this morrow with a message from Lady Y/N.

The crown prince hands over a small piece of cloth with indescribable words written with blood.

DUKE RINTAROU

This fountain of words—‘Crown Prince’ and ‘Cicilia’ and ‘captive’ and ‘molest’ and ‘die’ and ‘goodbye’. Faugh! I will have that bastard slain! That damned prince! He is unfit for any place but hell. Let my lips grow foul, I will slaughter him!

My gentle wife has suffered enough.

(to his knights) Be haste! Get me a sword and a horse!

Exeunt

SCENE III. In a bedroom in Cicilia. Morning.

Enter YOU, sobbing under the sheets and feeling extremely violated after the prince touched you to his satisfaction. He has left the manor while you stay in bed, staring hopelessly at the window. Your eyes are red and sore, motionless and far away.

YOU

(tearful) Goddess Athena, wh-what with this cruel fate you have given me… Rather than be a slave of the crown prince, I desire death more than anything else. I beg you… Let me perish. Let me have my peace.

Mother and father, take m-me away…

A familiar bird shows up at your window, prompting you to wrap yourself with the sheets as you try to sit up from bed.

How, now! Is this Argus? Is my mind tricking me?

The bird chirps.

Lo, he speaks! I-Is it your master that you sent you here?

The bird sways its head.

Good fellow, I am hopeless… I am not as free as you are.

The bird taps its beak against the glass, seemingly pointing towards the cloth. You stay still for a little while, pondering about your miserable life until the bird repeats the act and gestured its beak towards the cloth.

Smart bird! Do you suggest I write to your master? All’s too late, however, even if my word reaches my husband. He will not believe my words, and so, I shall write this to him as my goodbye.

As the bird offers you his wings, you pluck a feather and prick your fingers so you can use your blood as an ink. With your quill and a small piece of cloth that you tore from the sheets, you write as many words as you can until you hear footsteps nearby. You then rush to the bird and tie the cloth around its foot.

A LADY

(aside) Madam? Shall I enter?

YOU

Anon, good lady!

(to the bird) Argus, be safe, my friend. Fare thee well!

A LADY

(banging at the door) Madam!

YOU

By and by!

Enter a SERVANT

YOU

What are you?

SERVANT

Your maid, my lady.

YOU

You are here at the orders of Fionn?

SERVANT

His Highness wants you bathed and groom’d before he arrives for supper. He wishes to sleep in this room again this eve. You have a long night ahead of you.

YOU

(nauseous from your recent memories) I-I cannot be near him. I am sick. I beseech you, tell the prince that if he must have me again; ‘do not haunt me thus’, for I have long suffered in his hands.

SERVANT

You have no right to disobey the crown prince, madam. Be gratified that a lineal heir to the imperial throne desires you.

YOU

Are you not a woman? It is no compliment.

SERVANT

Get up and I will prepare you a bath.

YOU

I am unwell.

SERVANT

Then, must I give you anodynes?

YOU

None of the medicines can help me better than the one my mother used to give me as a child.

SERVANT

(sighing) What is that you need? Be haste.

YOU

An herb—the berries of belladonna.

SERVANT

(clueless) Goodness, you nuisance! Stay here and I will order a manservant to get some of that herb you speak of.

Exit SERVANT

YOU

Let it be my peace.

Exeunt

SCENE IV. In a bedroom. Night time.

Enter CROWN PRINCE FIONN who immediately looks for you in your bed. You stay there sitting with your arms around your knees, staring at an empty space as if you had gone insane.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

Did you long for me while I was gone?

YOU

(moving away) Move not an inch closer!

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

I own every inch of you. Be silent!

YOU

Wh-Why do you do this?

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

Need I state the obvious? You have bewitched me.

YOU

(backing away, frightened) You can have any woman in Athain.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

They are no better than you.

(pushes you backwards) Let me have my way.

YOU

S-Stop!

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

You dare reject a crown prince? Or shall I force that drug into you again?

YOU

(crying) Y-You w-will not have me the second time! E-Enough!

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

Says who? I will sleep with you from morn to eve as I wish.

The crown prince starts unbuttoning his tunic while you sneak under the pillow and reach for the berries. You swallow a handful before the prince manages to swat them away from your hand, forcing you to spit it out as his eyes widen in horror. The berries, as only a few nobles in Athain know, are dangerously fatal.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN (CONTD)

Y-You—! Why did you poison yourself?!

YOU

(in despair) To be f-free from you—

A cacophony of screams and clashing of swords distract you two from the scene until the door swings open to reveal an angered husband whose first move is to draw out his bloody sword against your molester. Outside the door is a brutal image of knights and servants with decapitated heads and limbs. The crown prince stands speechless at the macabre sight brought about by the duke’s ruthless massacre and he backs away as the enraged man comes closer to him.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

You… You have the skill to kill my men?

Enter DUKE RINTAROU, his cheek and armor are stained with blood.

DUKE RINTAROU

You are next.

YOU

(slowly, weakened) M-My h-husband.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

(looks around for a sword)

DUKE RINTAROU

You have wronged and assaulted my wife and for that, you will pay.

CROWN PRINCE FIONN

(backing against the wall) I dare you to swing your sword at me. There will be war.

DUKE RINTAROU

THEN, LET THERE BE WAR!

The duke charges after the crown prince and unsparingly swings his sword at him. Blood splatters onto his cheek as he continues to attack the blond Athainean prince with violent stabs, piercing his heart, and slashing his body with the sword again and again until the slaughtered prince falls onto the floor. Rintarou’s hands are shaking from series of murders he has committed in one night, yet the woman he desires to save has gone paralyzed in bed. All too late to be saved.

Enter CROWN PRINCE OSAMU and his IMPERIAL KNIGHTS

CROWN PRINCE OSAMU

Rintarou, your wife!

The duke wakes up from his senses and drops his sword, taking you in his arms and feeling an overwhelming sense of despair.

DUKE RINTAROU

(cupping your cheeks) My wife, my love—I am here now. Wh-What is the matter? Why do you keep still? What is this? Poison?

(calling to the knights who are looking at him pitifully) Call an apothecary for me! Be haste! Find me an antidote!

(turning to you) I will take you home. I-I will care for you. I will cherish you. I will treat you better than a queen. P-Please, speak to me. I know you cannot forgive me for I have failed you, but I will spend the r-rest of my life serving you—

YOU

(blood gushing out of your mouth) Do you… do you believe me now, Rin…?

DUKE RINTAROU

(breaking down) I d-do believe you. I do believe everything. Stay with me! W-We have a lifetime to spend together.

YOU

Spend it not with me… but with your true love.

DUKE RINTAROU

B-But you are my true love! My only love. My wife, s-stay. We can get this poison out of you.

YOU

(weakly, lips quivering) No… Duke, let it be my peace.

DUKE RINTAROU

Peace? My wife…

YOU

(tears streaming down your cheek) Death, that is. In the brief time we have spent together… I have felt your love. I have had a husband who gave his heart to me… A kind husband who married to s-save my grace, and listened t-to my despair. A h-husband who gave m-me comfort.

H-However, in this lifetime I am fated to s-suffer. I am n-not fated with you, but even so, I wish… to die… in your arms, Rin. Y-You will always be my love, and death will be my peace.

DUKE RINTAROU

(eyes widening) M-My wife—

You become limp in his arms as your soul departs from your body. A faint tear leaves your eye while your husband holds you in his arms, frozen and immobile. His heart falls to his stomach as he embraces your lifeless body.

DUKE RINTAROU

NO! NOOO! Do not say so, my love! Say not so. Alack, call my name one more time, p-please… my wife. Open y-your eyes!

The duke sheds tears and laments for the loss of his wife, hugging your lifeless body closer as if he can bring you back to life. He screams his heart out and touches your cheek, bringing his lips to your forehead.

DUKE RINTAROU (CONT’D)

I-I thought I can never find love, but b-because of you, I have lived that joy of being with someone I cherish so much. Someone that made me realize h-how true love feels like. You are the other half of me. You are the world that I live by.

My wife, m-my heart is breaking. Yet break it all over again for I am yours and forever will be. We will not be departed as your soul is connected to mine.

(pressing his forehead against yours) Here, I hold you in my arms as a husband who could not save his wife, granting you everlasting rest and happiness away from this world. Take my embrace, take my kiss, take my love, and all of my heart and soul.

Grieving silence stretches across the room, with no other noise to be heard except the duke’s muffled sobs.

CROWN PRINCE OSAMU

(kneeling) Rin, I cry with you.

KNIGHTS

(all kneeling out of respect for the duke and his dead wife)

Exeunt

SCENE V. At the dungeon.

Enter DUCHESS HERA and LADY CI’AN who are both imprisoned at their respective cells without having seen sunlight in a fortnight. Both women are ill at ease and agitated after a maid leaves them with very little news about the outside world.

DUCHESS HERA

What does that lowly maid mean that Faren has officially declared war against Athain?

LADY CI’AN

How else shall we know when we are kept like animals in this dungeon? Has our husband not returned to the estate yet?

DUCHESS HERA

This is your fault! I will tell Rintarou that this was all your idea.

LADY CI’AN

You deceptive wench! You are the spiteful wife between us both!

Enter DUKE RINTAROU

DUCHESS HERA

(getting up) My husband, you have come!

LADY CI’AN

How now, we have waited for you!

The duke draws out his sword and stares at his two wives with sunken, lifeless eyes. He is torpid and as pale as the moon with no other emotions to show.

DUCHESS HERA

(in fright) Rintarou, wh-what are you doing? Speak to us.

DUKE RINTAROU

(sniggering, unhinged from the shock of bereavement) Did you know? The both of you got what you wish’d for.

LADY CI’AN

P-Put down your sword, dear husband. What wish do you speak of?

DUKE RINTAROU

(pointing his sword at Ci’an) The only woman I can ever love. Can you guess what fate has befallen her?

DUCHESS HERA

Rintarou… Be calm. Your mind is not sound. Let us talk in peace.

DUKE RINTAROU

(laughing) Peace? She died in my arms; I carried her dead body all the way to Faren to give her a proper burial. But you? I will simply dispose of your body out the river. Let you rot in hell!

LADY CI’AN

My husband, I cry your mercy… We are not to blame over Lady Y/N’s unfortunate death. It is never in my desire to see her perishing.

DUCHESS HERA

Rintarou, this is all Ci’an’s plans! I only did what was ask’d of me!

LADY CI’AN

What? Those are false—

The duke unsheathes his sword and silences his two wives with the threat of being slain by their own husband.

DUKE RINTAROU

You choose deception even at the brink of your death. Living with you two is a punishment in itself, is it not?

DUCHESS HERA

(on her knees, eyes brimming with tears) I beg you… I will be a better wife. I will not spite you for having a third wife. We can start again.

DUKE RINTAROU

Start again, you say? I will not give you that satisfaction. I have something else to offer in exchange for the love you have plagued me.

LADY CI’AN

(in tears) Duke, I am at your mercy, please spare my life. I have a child.

The duke stands before his two wives, asserting fear and dominance as he holds his sword high. They cry at his feet and beg for mercy, however, the man begins to release a scornful laugh.

DUKE RINTAROU

Look up. Eyes on me. Do you fear death?

The wives tremble, yet no word has escaped their mouths..

I fear it not, for living with you both is more miserable. I would not let myself suffer a lifetime with wives who are liars. So keep your eyes on me. Keep this image with you forever as I reunite with my true love, far away from the spiteful ladies of this household.

DUCHESS HERA

RIN—!

LADY CI’AN

N-NO!

The duke slits his throat and chokes on his own blood as his two screeching wives are forced to watch in horror how he chooses to die a gruesome death. He falls on his knees and subsequently has his pool of blood all over the concrete floor. The duchess becomes deranged at the sight of her deceased husband while the other lady faints from the traumatizing act.

There, at the caliginous dungeon, is how the law that permits pologyny ends in the Empire of Faren.

EPILOGUE.

After three months, the bloody war between Athain and Faren has finally come to an end. Faren conquered Athain and usurped the tyrant emperor from his throne. As two empires became one powerful nation, the seated rulers, Emperor Atsumu and the Empress dowager, declared the end of injustice, cruelty, and oppression at the hands of the former emperor of Athain. Peace and prosperity will bless the citizens as no warfare shall continue henceforth.

In honor of the late Duke Rintarou and his wife, the laws of marriage have been amended and it is hereby decreed that only one marriage between a husband and a wife shall be granted in Faren and all its land.

Duchess Hera and Lady Ci’an have been stripped off their titles as nobles and are isolated from society in a dungeon where they will spend the rest of their lives being reminded of their husband’s death.

the end.

hq general taglist: @x-cloudyyyy @cottonheadedninnymugggins @centvry @kageyamakock @sunnsettee @bluesylveon2 @cuddlesslut @mysteriousparker @asdfghjkl7things @02hhsailor @anejuuuuoy @minswags-posts @chemnerdkuroo @tanakax123 @oikawa-bubs @lust4keiji @tsumuuwu @daylghits @ems1des @the-golden-jhope @wonyoschubs @melty-kisses @softy-woo @dekuspet @kittycatkrissa | @lolliepuffy @halparkebitch @heizenka

#suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x you #suna x reader #suna x you #suna angst #suna rintaro angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu historical au

[bloodwrittenballad]

Prayers | Kaz Brekker

Summary: Kaz is left with only one option after you get injured and won’t wake up... to pray.

Warnings: Injuries, blood, near death experience, angst, mentions of fighting, a few swears, praying, sad kaz :(

apologizes in advance, haha. let me know if you want a part 2! - parker

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

It’s funny how in a split second, things can go from normal to chaotic. How childhood innocence can soon turn into the very nightmares that haunt you at night, taunting you the second you close your eyes.

Kaz felt like he was currently living out a nightmare, and he already had enough of those when he slept, so being wide awake during this was a lot harder, he almost would rather give in to the tiredness he felt.

He couldn’t though however, he couldn’t fall victim to yet another nightmare right now, not when you could possibly be going through one too from where you slept on your bed. And if you were, he wanted to be awake and ready to help comfort you.

Looking down at your sleeping face, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wonder down fo the white bandage wrapped around your stomach. He grimaced at the sight. Though the bleeding had long stopped and been cleaned away, he still couldn’t unsee it.

He couldn’t unsee your face when he saw you get stabbed, either. It haunted him. Every time he dared to close his eyes, he saw your teary ones when you stumbled towards him, clutching your wound in pain.

Kaz turned away, not able to bear looking any further. He blamed himself for it, how couldn’t he? He should’ve done better to protect you, should’ve tried harder to make you stay out of this job, regardless of how much nastier it would’ve made the fight you had before going.

and yet he failed.

Sighing, he blinked back the tears that burned his eyes and threatened to spill, resting his head in his hands, unable to stop his brain from tormenting him by replaying the moment that left you in this position.

-

“K-Kaz,” your voice was barely above a whisper, but he still heard it. That was the first time you’d spoken to him since the fight you two had before the mission.

His turned to you immediately, his eyes captured yours and he saw the unshed tears. Confusion flashed his fast at first, but then he noticed the blood.

And his world stopped.

“Y/N!” He yelled, rushing towards you as fast as he could, ignoring the pain he felt in his leg when he did so. Luckily he managed to catch you before you fell to the harsh and unforgiving ground, but any luck of him trying to keep you awake had failed.

“No, no, no, Y/N, please,” Kaz lightly slapped your cheek with his gloved hand, in attempt to wake you up. “Stay with me, stay with me, please I can’t lose you. Not you. I refuse to lose you too. No, c’mon, you can’t go, I still gotta apologize for being an asshole to you and you gotta pretend to not forgive me and then hug me and say of course you do, like always. P-please don’t leave me, not when the last things I said were awful. Y/N, Y/N?! Stay awake-”

-

He sniffled, turning to look back at you once more. You looked peaceful, almost too peaceful, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of that. Instead he took one of his gloved off, placing it on your bedside table and scooted his chair closer to your bed, and took your hand in his.

Your hand felt surprisingly warm in his cold ones, an oddly comforting contrast. His thumb rubbed over your bruised knuckles, the shades of reds and blue he’d grown accustomed to seeing himself have too.

You always liked to gently kiss his bruises when he allowed it, claiming it would help speed up the healing process. Of course it didn’t, but he still liked the sentiment. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he pressed a light kiss upon it, “to encourage your healing.” He said. That’s exactly what you would say.

“So you can come back to me sooner.” Kaz added. “Please, come back to me. Y/N, I need you. You have to come back to me. Don’t make me lose you too, I can’t go through that, don’t make me go through that. Please, Saints, please...” His breathe got caught in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I’ve already lost enough people, don’t make me lose the only person left from my childhood that I love. Don’t make me go through the pain of having to bury the only person who has been there for me despite it all, despite my flaws, despite my demons... Don’t make me lose the one person who shows me unconditional love and kindness even though I don’t deserve it. Saints, don’t make be alone again...”

Kaz wasn’t a prayer, he wasn’t even a believer, he wasn’t too sure if you were either. You never really voiced your opinion on the matter, but something in that moment made him desperate enough to try for the both of you.

He reluctantly let your hand go from his, and quickly folded his own together. He’d only seen an actual prayer be done once before, so he wasn’t sure if he was doing it correctly, but nonetheless bowed his head.

Kaz cleared his throat, nervously, entirely too sure of where to begin. “Uh, um, S-Saints? I-I know I’m probably the last person you’d want to hear from, let alone answer too, a-and I don’t blame you for that.” He chuckled the last part anxiously.

“B-but uh, you see, Saints, I uh- it’s not really for me. Well, it is, but, m-mostly for Y/N. This prayer is for them. So while I may not deserve your miracles, they do. They are the most amazing, most perfect, most caring person I have ever known. They’re so selfless and j-just want the world to be a better place. They’ve already made mine a better place, don’t take them away before they can do more.” His eyes burned, he blinked back the tears.

“Please, it’s been days, I- I can’t go on much longer without them. Give them back to me. I can’t lose them too. N-Not when I haven’t gotten the chance to tell them I love them back. Please I need to tell them I love them back. I-I still have to tell them what they truly mean to me, I have to apologize for acting so harsh before the mission. I have to make things right.”

A choking sound came from him at the last part, unable to finish the prayer. He hoped what he said was enough, and he hoped that if Saints were real, they’d answer, and give you back to him.

He wouldn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t.

#kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x reader

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Sadistic Song Vol.1 “Kekkyoku NIGHT” Sakamaki Ayato Mini Drama

Original title: 「血極NIGHT」逆巻アヤト ミニドラマ

Source: DIABOLIK LOVERS Sadistic Song Vol.1 “Kekkyoku NIGHT”  [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru

Translator’s note: This is your typical Ayato track, not much more I can say. :P These mini dramas usually don’t have much of a plot anyway, but it seems like Ayato always gets the short end of the stick. All of his stories are just ‘CHICHINASHI LEMME SUCK YOUR BLOOD’ and they just change the location/general setting. xD

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Shuu ll Reiji ll Ayato ll Kanato ll Laito ll Subaru

Ayato kicks open the door. 

*THUD*

“...Oi, Chichinashi!! Show yourself already!! Let me suck your blood! Geez...You keep on runnin’ away time after time...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Anyway...This is a walk-in closet or somethin’? You thought I wouldn’t find you if you hid in between the clothes, huh? Are you an idiot? The scent of your blood’s all over the place.”

He turns his head.

*Rustle*

“Oi. You can hear me, right? If you step forward yourself, I’ll only make you lose consciousness. But, if you remain hidden, I won’t take responsibility for what may happen to you.”

You bump into something, knocking it over.

*Crash*

*Shatter*

“...Heh. I knew you’d be there.”

Ayato walks up to you.

“Hahaha...Your face’s white as a sheet.

*Rustle*

“Whatcha knockin’ things over for? You’re such a klutz.”

He picks up one of the broken accessories. 

“Ah-aaah. The chain’s even broken from this one. Since it was kept in this room, don’t you think it was crazy expensive? It might even be a one-of-a-kind rare item.”

You start to panic. 

“Too late to panic now. You better start thinkin’ ‘bout how you’ll compensate foーー Huh? ...What’s that thing you’re holding?”

You tell him you found it amongst the other accessories. 

“Hm...Show me for a sec!”

*Rustle*

“A brooch? Heeh. Not half bad. But I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before...Why? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. So, you want this, don’t you?”

You shake your head.

“Whatcha sayin’? You were clutchin’ it so tightly. Fine by me. I don’t know who it belongs to, but if you like it that much, I’ll let you have it.”

Ayato corners you against the wall.

*Thud* 

“Ughー! I’ll pin it straight onto your skin.”

You protest.

“Attaching it to your clothes is so orthodox and way too dull. If I pin it onto your skin, it’ll bleed so I get to have some fun as well. This is what you’d call ‘two birds with one stone’. Heh! The needle might just reach all the way to your heart by mistake.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Hehe. Come on. Hurry up.”

*RIIIIIIP*

“Geez, you’re makin’ me do the hard work. ...Well then, where should I put it? Your throat? The shoulder wouldn’t be bad either?”

You desperately try and escape his grip.

“Hehe...’Stop’, you say? If you beg for it with tears streamin’ down your cheeks, I don’t mind havin’ mercy on you.”

You beg for it.

“Hehehe...That’s not enough at all.”

You try again.

“Oh? Seems like you can do it if you try. You should have just done that from the very start.”

Ayato tosses the brooch aside.

*Cling*

“Instead, why not try usin’ that brain of yours? You really think I’d waste time pokin’ you with this tiny lil’ needle? Instead...”

*THUD*

“Suckin’ your blood directly is obviously way better...”

Ayato bites you.

*Sluuuuurp*

You complain about the pain. 

“...I’m makin’ it hurt, so of course it does. ...Your blood is out of this world per usual. Lemme have more. Haahn...”

*Sluuuurp*

“...Haah. Hahaha...Does it feel that good, your voice will no longer come out? In that case, I’ll do even more. Haahn...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Heh...You’re cryin’ happy tears cause it hurts? You really are a freak.”

You deny it.

“Don’t lie! All I need is a single glance at your face to know everythin’ you’re feelin’...Right now, you look as if you can’t get enough from the pleasure the pain gives you.”

You wince.

“Hehe...How shameful. The tears are even drippin’ from your chin. 

Ayato laps up the tears.

“...Disgustin’. Your blood really is way better. Come on. Offer it. Moreーー More!! Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“...Hehehe. It won’t stop oozin’ out. I just had a great idea. You want to know your own taste as well, right? I’ll teach you. Savor it thoroughly...”

He kisses you deeply.

“...Whatcha think? Isn’t it delicious?”

You tell him it tastes bad to you. 

“I bet. You’re makin’ quite the expression right now. Haah...Geez. If so, it feels like a waste. Give it back! I’m the one parched ‘cause you made me run all over the place. I might just suck your whole body dry and still not feel satisfied. Regardless, I was so kind to let you have a sip. So now you have to return the favor.”

You tell him you can’t.

“It’s not impossible. I fed it to you mouth-to-mouth, right? In that case...”

*RIIIIIP*

“It should be ‘round your chest right ‘bout now, don’t you think? Won’t it come out if I suck from this spot?”

*Rustle*

“Let’s put it to the test.”

Ayato bites your chest.

“Mmh...Nn...Haha...A ‘Chichinashi’ really is easy to drink from. Haahn...”

*Sluuuurp*

“...Haah. Not to mention, it tastes even better than usual.”

You flail around. 

“Heh. You’ve got the energy left to fight back? I hurt you plenty earlier, but you still don’t seem to get the message, huh? ...Or is this the best way to shut you up after all? ...Mmh.”

*Smooch*

You get flustered.

“Hehe...You’re growin’ weaker...”

*Rustle*

“Come on. Focus. Mmh...Nn...”

*Smooch*

“What? You were cryin’ up a storm earlier, but now you already look like you’re in heaven. Heh. Just how much do you love me to get like this from a lil’ kiss or two? Seems like you know very well who you belong to.”

You look away.

“Come on. Try voicin’ it out loud. Who do you belong to?”

You remain quiet.

“I can’t tell if you give me the silent treatment, right?”

Ayato bites you again.

*Sluuuurp*

“Hahaha...Your whole body’s quiverin’...Also, even though I bit you just as strong as the first time, you’re makin’ those amazin’ noises...Feelin’ better the more it hurts no longer counts as bein’ a simple pervert, it just means you’ve lost your damn mind.”

You try and justify yourself.

“You’ve stopped bein’ ‘normal’ a long, long time ago. ...Just admit it alreadyーー That you can no longer live without me. Lemme ask you one more time. Who do you belong to?”

You respond. 

“Hahaha...Ahahaha! See? You do know the answer! You are mine forever. Now that you’ve chosen me, I’ll continue to suck your blood till I’m satisfied. Keep on makin’ those nice sounds. ...Haahn...”

He bites you again.

“Mmh...Nn...”

ーー THE END ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty Five

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

September 3rd, 1986

“Remy!” Toby yelled, dashing across the street and grabbing Remy’s arm. “Don’t do that!”

“Don’t do what? Cross the street?” Remy asked.

“Not before looking to make sure there aren’t any cars coming!” Toby exclaimed. “You could get run over if you’re not careful!”

“Nobody would run over a kid!” Remy said, complete conviction in his tone.

“Maybe not on purpose, but if they don’t see you, they might not stop until it’s too late! Don’t run across the street without looking both ways first, okay?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Fine. Can we keep walking home, now?”

Toby sighed. “Fine. But be warned, if you’re not careful, you could get seriously hurt.”

Remy huffed. “Whatever.”

  June 12th, 2002

Remy chased Emile around the apartment until Emile was stuck in a corner and Remy tickled him relentlessly. Emile shrieked with laughter, trying to swat Remy’s hands away. “This is what you get for getting that song stuck in my head for the fiftieth time this week!” he exclaimed, a victorious grin splitting his face. “I can’t keep singing ‘I Want It That Way’ under my breath at work, August will kill me!”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorryyyy!” Emile squealed. “I can’t get it out of my head, either! Because you sing it then I sing it, and it’s one big feedback loop!”

Remy’s fingers retreated for half a moment, and Emile had Remy trapped in a bear hug, unable to move his arms whatsoever. “Emile! Lemme go!”

“Nope! Not until you promise to not tickle me over this anymore!” Emile declared.

“Never!” Remy exclaimed. “August nearly took my head yesterday for humming it under my breath, and I still have heart palpitations because of that! You deserve to be tickled for nearly killing me!”

Emile just held onto Remy tighter, and Remy squirmed and squirmed until he broke free of Emile’s grip, but Emile was running to the door before Remy could continue the tickling. “Hey, get back here!” Remy laughed, following Emile out the door.

But Emile was already heading down the stairs and out the building, and Remy sped after him, feet running as fast as his body would let him.

Emile glanced behind him and when he saw Remy, he ran faster, still giggling.

Remy was halfway through the parking lot when Emile was just barely at the sidewalk, glancing at the street and clearly assuming it was clear. But Remy could hear the sound of a car engine, getting closer, and his blood ran cold. “Emile!” he exclaimed. It was like everything happened in slow motion. He was pouring on the speed, feet propelling him faster than he thought possible through the parking lot. He could see a bright blue in his peripheral vision, growing bigger and bigger. He grabbed Emile by the collar of his shirt, yanking him backwards on the sidewalk...just as a pickup truck sped by.

Emile turned white as a sheet as Remy bent over, hands just above his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Oh,” Emile breathed.

“Did no one teach you to not run across the street, Emile?” Remy panted.

“I thought it was clear,” Emile breathed. “I didn’t see the truck.”

“Well, yeah, the guy was easily going fifty in a thirty five,” Remy wheezed. “I could hear him, but I doubt you could if you were laughing as hard as you were.”

“I almost died,” Emile said, still deathly pale. “I would be dead if you hadn’t grabbed me.”

“I’d really rather not think about that,” Remy sighed. He moved without feeling himself move, gripping Emile in a tight hug. “You ever do that again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Emile lightly hugged Remy back, and were it not for Emile’s hyperventilating, Remy would wonder if he had realized what happened at all. Remy held Emile at arm’s length, looking him over. He knew that Emile hadn’t been clipped at all, Remy had yanked him back hard enough that Emile moved halfway across the sidewalk, but he still needed to see for himself that Emile was okay. “Let’s...let’s go back inside,” Remy said, at barely above a whisper.

All he got in return for that was a swallow and a nod. They made their way back inside, holding each others’ hands in a vice grip. Remy wasn’t sure if he would ever feel his fingers again after this, but at the moment he didn’t care all that much. Emile was alive and unhurt, and that was all that mattered.

They got back in their apartment, and went over to the couch, both of them collapsing onto it, Emile with a sigh and Remy with a shaky sob. Emile squeezed Remy’s hand, and Remy swallowed. “I thought I lost you,” he breathed, looking over at Emile. “I thought that you were gonna end up in the hospital, at the very least. Six feet under at worst. I thought...I thought...” He shook his head and choked back another sob.

Emile held Remy close as he cried, but he didn’t say anything. Remy could feel him shaking, though. Remy looked up at him. “Are you...that thing you talked about the other day? The nonverbal thing?”

“I-I-I-I do-do-don’t-don’t th-thi-thi-ink s-s-s-so...?” Emile said, each stuttered half-word punctuated with a gasp.

“That stutter’s pretty bad, though,” Remy said. “So you might be...kinda nonverbal? If that’s at all possible?”

“S-s-s-se-se-se-semi-mi-ver-bal,” Emile stammered out.

“Yeah, that,” Remy said. “Is it better if I don’t make you talk?”

Emile mutely nodded.

“Okay, I’ll try to stick to yes or no questions when I have to. Otherwise, I think just cuddling for a while will be okay.”

Emile nodded again and Remy buried himself in Emile’s side as his tears continued to fall. Without even realizing fully what he was doing, Remy started to talk. “Man, I had never really considered our own mortality before, you know? Like, I knew that one day you and I would...would no longer be here, but...I don’t know. It just...got shoved in my face today that one of us could die at any time. And I just...kinda assumed we’d be together until one or the other of us died. But I never considered the inevitable that comes after that. And...I mean...I had considered the thought of one of us calling this off. Us breaking up. Even after I realized that this is what I think of as soulmates. Especially after that. Because I wanted a plan in place in case you didn’t feel the same anymore. But I never thought about the far more likely option...we stay together until one of us dies. What happens then? Like, yeah, I could die first. That’s a possibility. But it’s one that I don’t have to plan for. And it’s a fifty-fifty chance, you know? I’d have to plan for what happens if you died first. And...I kinda ignored that fact for as long as I could, because I didn’t want to think about a world without you in it. Like, if we broke up at least you’d be alive still, and have the chance to be happy. If you died...Listen. I know that the world wouldn’t end. The apocalypse wouldn’t happen just because you died, it’s not like the city would burn to the ground. But...it would feel like my world ended. And...I just...I don’t know how I would cope with that.”

Emile squeezed Remy tight and Remy took a breath. “I know I shouldn’t fixate on this. It’s a morbid thing to think about. But...but really, what happens when all of this comes to an end? What happens if... when... one of us kicks the bucket?”

“We-we-we w-w-wou-would-would ha-ha-have p-pl-plan-ans i-i-in pl-place,” Emile stammered.

“But we don’t have those plans, Emile. That’s my point. And we have to face the fact that we’re not going to live forever. You know? We have to prepare one of these days,” Remy said.

“O-o-one o-of the-the-the-these da-days. N-n-not t-to-today, m-my lo-ove,” Emile pleaded in between gasps. “To-to-today le-let-let’s ju-just fo-cus on-on-on-on the...the fac-ct that we’re-re...alive.”

“You sound like a dying fish,” Remy said, only mildly hysterical. “Stop trying to talk. Clearly, you need to calm down some more before talking again. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Emile giggled, sounding hysterical himself, heaving gasps in between giggles. Remy wrapped his arms around Emile’s chest, hoping to calm him down, however little that calm was.

They stayed like that for another half an hour easily, Emile’s giggles slowly tapering off and Remy intermittently crying, holding onto Emile like a life raft. Eventually, Emile slowly extricated himself from Remy’s grasp. “Remy...Remy,” Emile said when Remy tried to continue hugging him. “Remy, I have to pee.”

Remy reluctantly put his hands back in his lap, and simply requested, “Hurry back.”

Emile nodded and went to the bathroom quickly. Remy scrubbed his face. He was happy that if this had to happen, it was on a day where neither of them had work. That would have been unfortunate, nearly dying and then being separated for hours on end, unable to talk about what happened. He would be a nervous wreck at work.

When Emile came back, he collapsed on the couch with a sigh. “Thank you,” he said.

Remy blinked. “For what?”

“For nearly choking me when you grabbed my shirt collar,” Emile laughed. “I never did thank you.”

“Oh. Don’t mention it,” Remy said softly.

“Remy...do you think we should get our affairs in order?” Emile asked. “Like, obviously we can’t do that in a single day when we’re just starting, but. For the future. In case anything unfortunate happens. We should have contingency plans.”

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “And we should probably plan for what happens if one of us ends up in the hospital.”

“Update our emergency contacts. I think my parents are still my primary emergency contacts,” Emile mused.

“Oh, God, I think my mother is still my emergency contact. That needs to change ASAP,” Remy said. “I’d rather have you be in charge of my medical stuff when I can’t make the decision for myself. I don’t want my mother to get a call that I’m in the hospital and have her ban you from visiting and whisking me away, back there.”

Emile sniffed a tiny laugh, and Remy frowned. “What? What’s so funny about that?”

“Not funny, exactly, but happy, I guess,” Emile said. “You said ‘back there,’ not ‘back home.’ I just...you made that distinction.”

“Well, yeah. That house isn’t my home. My home isn’t even a what. It’s a who,” Remy said.

Emile was biting back a grin, and Remy rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s you, you dork. Stop being so smiley about it.”

“Never,” Emile vowed, hugging Remy tight.

“Emile! Lemme go!” Remy laughed.

“Nope!” Emile exclaimed.

“Hey! Come on!” Remy exclaimed. “You’re gonna suffocate me!”

Emile giggled. “Remy, I would never do such a thing! You wound me!”

Remy poked Emile’s side and Emile yelped, releasing his hold on Remy just enough for Remy to roll out of the hold and onto the floor, laughing. He leapt to his feet and sprinted to the bedroom, grabbing his pillow so when Emile followed him, he was immediately met with a feathery end. Emile shoved Remy’s pillow out of his face with a laugh, grabbing his own pillow and whacking Remy with it.

The two chased each other around the apartment, hitting each other with pillows and laughing like nothing in the world would ever be as funny again. They kept running until Remy tripped over a chair leg and crashed to the floor. “Rem?! You okay?!” Emile asked, rushing over.

“Ow. Yeah, I’m fine,” Remy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “That hurt, but it’s not the worst scrape I’ve ever gotten. I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Emile said, worrying his lip.

“I do say so,” Remy said. “But maybe we should cut back on the pillow fights, at least for now. I think I used up all the energy I had left.”

“That’s fair,” Emile said, offering Remy a hand.

Remy took it and the two stood there a moment, uncertainty on both their faces. “...Do you want to help out at the shelter tonight?” Emile asked.

A beat. “...Yeah, okay. When should we head out?”

Emile checked the time and hummed. “I don’t know. Anywhere from now to half an hour and we should be fine.”

“May as well go now, then. Maybe we could talk to Bernie and see what he has to say about wills and stuff. I don’t know if he has any experience, but he might,” Remy pointed out.

“True,” Emile said.

They put their pillows back on the bed and headed out, this time double checking the street before they crossed it.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

[solohux]

Not sure if you’re done with Ben/poe prompts but I just thought of one you might find interesting :) but no stress! Ben and Poe are childhood/teen loves but Poe leaves to join FO. Years later FO/Poe travels to Jakku to find Lor San Tekka and they do. However, Ben is also there and is captured, by Poe no less!

They’ve finally found the map.

Even from the cockpit of Xian Ren’s shuttle, Poe can feel the Master Knight’s tenseness radiating through the atmosphere around him. And despite not being Force sensitive, growing up with one has made Poe a little more susceptible to sense changes in its aura.

“Land on the outskirts of the village,” Xian Ren commands, and Poe silently complies and begins their descent over the dusty, dark landscape, letting the ship’s floodlights envelope the carnage caused by their stormtroopers but the bloodshed isn’t what Poe expected. There should be bodies of the resistant villages lying everywhere but there isn’t. Instead, the First Order’s troops are the ones dead in the sand, their armour seared with marks that can only be made with a—

“There’s a Jedi here,” Xian spits, just as Poe sees the blue flash of a twirling lightsaber taking down three attacking stormtroopers, defending the fleeing villagers from them. “Scum.”

Poe flicks up the visor of his pilot’s helmet and sees the Jedi that has Xian so riled up, and his heart jerks and his stomach twists. He’s dressed in cream and brown robes, his mess of dark hair fanning out as he spins around to deflect blaster shots.

Ben. Ben Solo. Poe hasn’t seen him in…a decade. The boy was a padawan when Poe last saw him, too tall for his long limbs and big ears but his soft, brown eyes could melt Poe’s heart with just a glance. Leaving him behind for the First Order was harder than Poe would ever admit, refusing to look back at Ben, listening only to his screams of ‘don’t go!’ whilst being restrained by his mother and father.

“Dameron!” Poe blinks hard, finding it difficult to draw his gaze from Ben and over his shoulder to where the masked Master Ren is standing right behind him. “I said, raise us up and fire the electric net.”

“What? Commander, we—”

“At the Jedi, pilot! Fire at him, now!”

For the first time since he joined the First Order, Poe hesitates in obeying an order. He stares at Ben, watching as he tries his very best to save all of the villagers, to be the hero he was born to be. Poe feels his hand trembling over the blue button on his control panel that would fire a weighted, metal net at Ben and electrocute him until he’s unconscious. The image pains Poe, he can’t do it, he can’t hurt Ben again—

“Dammit! Move, Dameron! Xian shoves Poe aside and slams his hand down over the button, sending the heavy set flying through the air before Poe can stop it. The ship lands just meters away from the struggling Jedi, and Poe feels the Force cry out as its golden child is captured.

The net hits its target directly and with such force that Poe can’t believe that Ben manages to stay standing. Truly, his strength is mirrored in his large physique but when the net begins bursting with electricity in high, unbearable volts, Ben falters. The metal web flashes a white-blue as it shocks its prisoner to his knees but Poe can still see that Ben is fighting against it.

“P-Poe!” Ben yells, fighting to stay on his knees. Poe’s blood runs cold. “I know you’re on there! Come home! I-I need you!”

“Did he say your name?” Xian says, anger filling his tone.

“I didn’t hear,” Poe replies quickly, though he can’t stop Ben’s voice echoing inside of his mind, repeating his name over and over again.

“Strange.” Xian Ren steps back, clearly entertained by the scene in front of him.

“Don’t fight it, Ben,” Poe whispers, a white-knuckled grip on the ship’s joysticks, agonised at watching his former lover struggle. “It’ll only hurt more. Just let it take you.”

“Look at him struggle,” Xian Ren laughs. “Pitiful Jedi.”

Even from the ship, Poe hears Ben’s cry of utter pain as he finally goes down, convulsing underneath the net, truly trapped and captured. The pilot closes his eyes and looks away, compromised by the sight of his darling Ben in such pain. The net slows its torture down until there’s no current left and Ben is left spasming in the aftershocks of the attack, panting furiously

All of Poe’s memories from his and Ben’s childhoods flash in his mind, recalling Ben’s infectious laugh and his mischievous sense of humour, his ability to always pick Poe up when he’s feeling low. And now, as Poe watches his stormtroopers approach the unconscious Jedi and snap a collar around his neck and cuff him before dragging him up, Poe feels his loyalties being questioned.

Hux is going to kill him.

#benpoe #darkpilot #jedi ben #m:writing #i'm sorry this took me so long to write #i hope you like it darling!!!! ❤️

[vore-scientist]

Good Intentions (In Which There Are Thieves)

[M/m safe, soft GT vore]

A (mini) Tale of the Mystic Woods

Yonah (the “evil” giant wizard) deals with thieves on a regular basis. They are rather a nuisance but they do taste good!

Almost every encounter with a thief follows a pattern: 1) Thief breaks in to the tower. 2) Yonah catches and eats the thief. 3) Yonah releases the thief and if they accept it, gives them some money for their trouble.

“In Which There are Thieves” is a collection of short stories that all follow that pattern, but each encounter is unique!

Content warnings: the vore is soft and safe but VERY unwilling and it’s Yonah’s job to be the big bad giant so expect fearplay. And the thieves don’t know that he plans to let them live. (Especially when he tells them the opposite)

Note: this encounter takes place before Sophia comes to live with Yonah

This fun short was inspired by this ask:

“Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of the human kind. It matters not the things you stole, I’ll capture you and swallow you whole!”

/Great/, thought Sparrow. He was already captured so that only left being eaten. He thought this was supposed to be the lair of an evil wizard who worked for the king! A king’s secret wizard must have loads of shit worth multiple fortunes! He had not expected this wizard to also be a giant. He had not come prepared to fight a giant! And thus, he had been captured. Rather quickly too. 

The giant had him in a tight grip, large brown hungry eyes fixed on him. It had taken his sword, his dagger, even his mother’s pocket knife! That was an heirloom. Sitting in this giant’s lair it wouldn’t get handed down to anyone and since he was about to die he dearly wished to still have it on him for his trip to the next world. 

“Now you see what happens to petty thieves!” it growled with delight. 

“I am no petty thief, Giant,” Sparrow spat, “I am a hero! I steal from the rich to give to the poor! You have no business eating me.”

The giant cocked his head at him with unnerving quizzical innocence which rapidly contorted into mischief. Sparrow didn’t like it, not one bit. Especially not when it laughed and licked it’s lips. 

“Wonderful! Then your next and final act of charity will be to fill my poor belly!” it pat it’s stomach in a horrible childish manner. 

The next thing Sparrow knew he was in it’s mouth. He thought for SURE he would be bitten in half. Whatever strange breed of giant this was, it was too small to swallow a person whole. At least that would be a quicker death than the agonizing drawn out demise to be found inside it’s stomach. 

He just wished it would get it over with!!! The giant’s teeth dug into his ribs as it held him ⅓ the way in its mouth, the massive tongue familiarizing itself with Sparrow’s texture and taste. The slobber was thick and warm and he tried not to breath. UGH he got the giant’s spit in his mouth!!!

The hum of giant’s delight at his flavor buzzed around him, adding to the humiliation. 

What was going on? Gravity shifted and he was upside-down! The jaws loosened and he slid back at the same he was pushed by the tongue and pulled by the muscles into the giant’s throat. 

No way. No! 

The hot rubbery flesh enveloped him completely. With his heart pounding and his breathing rapid he feared he would pass out. No not feared. Hoped. Death by suffocation was much preferable to… digestion. 

Seemed like he didn’t even have that amount of good fortune however.

His feet were still in the giants mouth! It had taken off his shoes and the tongue tickled but Sparrow did not laugh. For pounding against his head, against his heart, was the beat of the giant’s as he slowly inched past the powerful organ. 

There was a strong swallow and a deep breath from the giant as Sparrow’s body entered it in its entirety. 

In the same moment his hands passed through a much rougher section of flesh into a void. Then his head did the same and he instinctively drew breath and then gagged. There was air in stomach but it was noxious. 

The stomach. 

The giant’s body forced his own into the space which stretched to hold all of him but it was a tight fit. He was really crammed in there. While he could kick out he couldn’t put much power behind it, and with the slick walls he couldn’t maintain any outstretched position for longer than a second. 

Time didn’t slow down, if anything it sped up. His impending death drawing closer with every beat of his racing heart. 

“Enjoying your stay? I am. It’s a pity it won’t be a long one.” The giant’s voice thundered around him. 

“Bastard! I’m a HERO! I’m supposed to defeat evildoers such as you! How did you beat me! This isn’t how it works!”

The laughter of the giant shook him violently, rattling his brain. 

“Good does not always triumph over evil,” came the venomous reply. 

“You could have at least bitten my head off or something! I don’t want to suffer in here!”

There was a jolting chuckle. 

“But I would miss out on all of your wonderful struggling! And who said anything about suffering? I certainly didn’t!”

There was a pronounced pressure on Sparrow’s side. The giant’s fingers most likely. It clearly wanted to enjoy every bit of his slow and painful death. 

“So, my tasty little hero, you ready to say goodbye?”

WhAT? Sparrow flailed and the giant laughed again. He barely felt any tingling in his skin! Was the giant about to do something terrible? 

The pressure increased from all sides and Sparrow screamed. The walls got angry and convulsed, rolling him around until.

He was forced… back the way he came. 

So shocked he froze and let it happen. He could not believe it was actually happening! The  retching sounds which normally might cause himself to retch were like an angelic choir as with each one he traveled up the giant’s esophagus. 

Still hot and muggy the breath of air he gulped in when his head emerged into the giant’s mouth was the best he’d ever had. It was a breath of life! 

His wits miraculously back to him he opened his eyes, extended an arm to grasp at the giant’s front teeth to yank himself forward. 

The giant choked in surprise but helped out by pinching his sides and pulled him the rest of the way out. He was tossed unceremoniously onto the bench. Right next to his things. 

Sword in hand he stood up, slipping only slightly on the spit and mucus that pooled at his feet. 

“Stay back giant! Or I’ll-”

“Do what, exactly?” The giant was wiping its mouth on a long sleeve grinning. “Get eaten by me again?”

He raised the sword in a fighting stance. The giant frowned. 

“Wow are you stupid? I’m letting you go! Unless you think we have unfinished business. You’re welcome to give this another try. But I warn you, the second trip down my gullet is one way. Are these poor you speak of worth the risk?”  

Sparrow said nothing, his mind was racing in a white void 

“Go on. I’d love to have another taste.” The eyes of the giant flared bright orange for a second. 

Sparrow lowered the sword but did not sheath it. He cautiously gathered up the rest of his things. Shoes, knife, pocket knife, bag, gear harness. It all squelched against his foul smelling soaked through clothes. The giant watched him, the gaze no less hungry than before. By some miracle he had been shown mercy, but he didn’t know if it would last very long. 

The giant’s unnerving kindness extended to carrying him from the desk to the windowsill so he could climb down. He took one last glance at the window, The giant was leaning out the window, head in it’s elbows. Not looking down, but looking out into the forest. 

Before he left the giant warned him not to disturb the garden. OR ELSE. and Sparrow was not about to disregard the one who would happily gobble him up again. So he ran into the woods. 

Once he felt a safe distance away, and made it to a cheerfully babbling brook, he sat down to wash up. 

He opened his bag to get out a bar of soap but found something else. Something that had not been there before. A large brown sack tied with a string. Had the giant put it there? 

From simply picking it up he knew it to be full of coins. Opening it revealed them to be gold. 

And there was a note. Surely this couldn’t be the giant’s doing. The note was so small and oh-

It unfolded and unfolded. 

“If this money doesn’t make it to the poor, I will know and I will find you. 

-PS, you were delicious P;”

He could have done without that post-script, especially that little drawing. What a complete wacko. Most evil wizards were. 

Thankfully, Sparrow was true to his word! This money would be put to good use. 

No need to worry about being hunted down by a giant wizard. 

Right?

[Thanks for reading! PLEASE REBLOG! I CRAVE FEEDBACK]

[for more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/+mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’ on my blog! I’ll have a tag for thief stories soon. probably “MW Thieves”]

#safe vore #soft vore #gt vore #vore art #vore writing #sfw vore #nonfatal vore

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Outside the Rain - Harry Styles (Part 5)

Part 4

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” you groaned reaching for a piece of tissue.

You pressed it against the tiny, yet painful cut on your leg to stop the gushing of blood. Never in your 15+ years of shaving your legs have you ever not cut your self at least once. You sighed finishing up before getting out of the shower. Your date with Harry was in less than two hours and you needed to get ready. You still had no clue on where you were going or what you’d be doing. 

All you knew is that you needed to wear something comfortable because you would be outside for the majority of the night and that he was picking you up at four. So, now you were standing in your closet trying to find something that was comfortable and practical for whatever the night entailed, but also was nice enough for a first date. Eventually, you decided on a nice sundress that you could pair with a pair of white sneakers. 

You laid it out on your bed, while you went back into the bathroom to tackle your hair and makeup. Your hand shook as you applied your foundation and you hoped it calmed down by the time you went to apply your eyeliner and mascara or you might be accessorizing with an eyepatch. For you makeup, you decided on a simple look, but painted your lips a nice, bright red to make it a little more date night like. 

You dried your hair and took out your curling iron before putting your hair in an high half-do and curling your hair a bit. You sprayed your hair with hairspray before walking back into your room. You put on a simple rose gold bar necklace set and a pair of small hoop earrings. You pulled your dress over your head and slipped on your shoes. 

You took a small crossbody bag from your closet and filled it with your essentials for the night. By the time you were ready, there was about half an hour before Harry was due to arrive, so you took that opportunity to have you a glass of wine.

**

Harry's hands shook as he buttoned up his shirt. To say he was nervous for the date tonight, would be an understatement. He wanted everything to go perfectly and he hoped this date would lead to more... and maybe... just maybe a relationship. Of course, he wasn’t trying to think that far ahead, but it was hard not go there. Whenever he was around you, he felt a pull towards you. It was weird and hard to describe, but he felt it. He wanted to press his lips against yours and hold you in his arms... and he was hoping that one of those two things would happen. 

He took a look in his mirror. He had decided on a black button up shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans, something he hadn’t really worn in ages, but he did want to seem overdressed for where you two were going. He slid his rings down each finger before running his hands through his hair one last time. Grabbing his phone and his wallet, he headed down the stairs. 

On the way to your place, he stopped to buy some flowers and a little teddy bear. He knew those items were super cheesy, but he knew they would make you smile. The closer he got to your house, the more his hands would sweat. 

He had no clue why he was so nervous. You two had been alone together multiple times recently, so why was he freaking out more tonight. 

“Calm the fuck down,” he mumbled to himself. 

Easier said than done. Tonight was different on so many levels. It was more public than just hanging out at the other’s house. It was an actual date, where you both were on the same page. Oh and not to mention the fact that Harry had to plan everything out in less than twenty four hours and he really hoped you enjoyed it. 

**

As soon as you saw Harry pull into your driveway, you weren’t sure what to do. Should you just walk out to the car since you know he’s there or should you just wait for him to come to the door? What exactly was the protocol again? I mean if you went outside on your own, then it made it seem like you are waiting for him and like watching through the window. 

Even though that was exactly what you were doing, you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want to come off as desperate or whatever. Well, all of your contemplating ended up making the decision for you because before you could even grab your things and head out the door, Harry rang the doorbell. 

You took a deep breath and counted to five before walking over to the door and opening it. Harry stood there holding a bouquet of flowers and tiny teddy bear in his arms. 

You smiled, “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled. “These are for you.” 

He held out the flowers and the teddy bear. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. “They’re beautiful. Let me put them in water and then we can go.” 

“Sounds good,” he smiled following you inside. “I still can’t get over your house.” 

You laughed, “I really starting to wonder if the only reason you hang out with me is because of my house.” 

“Maybe not the only reason, but a reason,” he smirked. 

You shook your head grabbing a vase from the cabinet and putting the flowers inside before filling it up with water. 

“These smell really good,” you smiled. “Thank you again.” 

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. 

“And this is really cute,” you smiled holding the teddy bear. 

“Well, I thought you could have something to remember me by for when I head to NYC,” he smirked. 

“What makes you so sure that I’d even miss you?” you smirked. “Bold of you to assume.” 

“It’s not assuming if it’s the truth,” he smirked. 

“Well, in that case I guess we better head out then?” You asked. “Speaking of which, are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” 

“Nope!” He smirked making sure to pop on the p. “You’ll find out when we get there.” 

“Ugh, fine,” you said. “Let’s get this show on the road.” 

**

The entire car ride was mostly silent of conversation as the two of you listened to the radio. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but more of content silence. Your hands were in your lap, while Harry kept both hands on the steering wheel. Whenever you two would lock eyes every so often, a red tint would appear on both of your cheeks and you both would give the other a small smile before looking away. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel butterflies in your stomach or that you weren’t happy to be going on this date. It had been ages since you one went on a true proper date and two it had been even longer since you’ve gone on a date where you were actually feeling genuine feelings for the other person. 

It was weird though because while you felt a little bit of nervousness during your other times with Harry recently, that was nothing compared to how you were feeling now. And honestly the only thing that changed was the fact that there was now a label on it. 

Had Harry just asked you to hang out again, would you feel this immense pressure to have everything go smoothly? Or would you be worried about what he expected to happen between the two fo you now? Odds are you probably wouldn’t, but it didn’t really matter seeing as how this was, in fact, a date and you were practically shitting bricks. 

**

Harry could feel the tension energy flowing throughout the car and neither of you were even saying anything. The only sounds that were evident was that of the music playing through the speakers at a medium low volume, and the occasional deep breaths both of you were taking. For the past few nights that you two have spent together, they were filled with talking non-stop, so it was nice to just sit in a silence with you and just be there in the moment. 

And that was just the car ride. If the actual date went as smoothly as the car ride and being stuck in traffic, then everything was looking up. 

“Are you at least going to give me a hint?” You asked breaking the silence.

“Technically, I already gave you a hint,” he smirked. “I told you we were going to be outside.” 

You rolled your eyes, “That could literally mean anything. We’re in fucking California. Do you know how many things are outdoors? There’s the beach, for starters, and then parks, piers, restaurants... like the list goes fucking on and on.” 

“While all of that is true, where we’re going is none of those places,” he smirked. “So, there. There’s another hint.” 

“You’re like a fucking riddle, you know that?” you said. 

“I’m going to take that as a complement,” he smirked.  

**

“Put this on, please,” Harry said handing you a black headscarf. 

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t want you to see where we’re going until we’re there,” he said. 

“You’re not going to like kill me are you?” You asked. “Cause this is usually how something like this goes.” 

He laughed, “Really?” 

“What? I like my True Crime Documentaries,” you smirked. 

“I promise I’m not going to kill you or kidnap you,” he said. 

“Fine,” you said. “Just so you know, if you’re lying, I’m going to haunt your ass,” you tied the scarf around your eyes. 

“Noted,” he laughed. 

Harry soon arrived to where he was taking you on your date. He parked the car and looked over at you. 

“I’m getting out of the car and I’ll get you out in just a second,” he said. 

You nodded, waiting as you heard the sound of him getting out of the car. You turned your head around as if you could see anything, wondering where you were, where he had taken you. The passenger door opened, letting in a soothing breeze. 

“Take my hand,” he said holding it out in front of you. 

“I would if I could see you,” you mumbled. 

He laughed taking your hand in his as he helped you out of the car. The car door was shut behind you and you stood in place waiting for what was to come next. You could feel the warmth of the sun beaming down on your skin. You could hear Harry rummaging around in the car. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. 

“Oh, you know, just grabbing the tarp and shovel,” he joked. 

“You’re an ass,” you said. 

“What was that?” He asked. “You like my ass?” 

“I didn’t say that,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he smirked. 

“Anyway, how much longer until I can take this off?” you groaned. 

“Just a few more minutes,” He said shutting the trunk of the car. 

He walked over grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. “Okay, you can take it off.” 

You didn’t hesitate before pulling it over your head. The sun hit your eyes, stinging them a bit as they adjusted to the light. You looked around and saw he had taken you to the Griffith Observatory. 

“I was thinking we could walk up, look around inside, and then have a picnic watching the sunset?” he stated as a question. 

A smile formed across your lips as you looked over at him, “That sounds perfect.” 

“Well, then let’s get going,” he smiled. 

**

You both walked up to the main building. You headed inside and looked around. 

“Wow, you know I’ve never actually been here before,” you said. 

“Really?” He asked. 

You nodded, “It’s always been one of those places I said I’d adventure to whenever I had time off, but I never did.” 

“Well, that makes me even happier that I chose this for our date,” he smiled. 

You smiled back before you both continued walking around. Once you were finished looking at the different exhibits, you both went back outside, just in time as the sun had started to set. You noticed Harry had been carrying a bag with him, which ended up being a ton of a food for your picnic. You and Harry walked over to a more private area to sit down. Harry laid out a blanket onto the grass and you two sat down on it. 

He laid out the food choices, a few sandwiches, fruit, and other little snacks. 

“I know it’s not exactly dinner,” he said. “But all of this was easy to pack and keep cold without having to warm it back up,” he blushed. 

“It’s perfect,” you smiled taking a bite of your sandwich. 

“Sooo,” he said taking a sip of his water. “Are you having a good time?” 

“I am,” you smiled. 

He smiled, “I am too. I’m glad we did this before I left.” 

**

Once the majority of the food was finished, the sunset was at it’s peak. You felt your body flush as you noticed Harry scoot closer towards you. His pinky finger caressed yours for a few seconds at a time. You smiled a bit leaning your arm against his for a bit. 

“This view is fucking beautiful,” you said. “It’s everything.” 

“Yeah, it is,” he said looking over at you. 

“Look at you trying to be all cheesy and romantic,” you joked. 

“Still true,” he smirked. 

You giggled moving a stray strand of hair from your face, “Do you have any other surprises up your sleeve tonight, Styles, or is this the only one?” 

“Depends,” he mocked. “On how this part of the night goes.” 

“Using my own game against me?” You gasped. 

“Basically, yeah,” he smirked. 

You rolled your eyes shaking your head. The sun had mostly gone down by then and the breeze brought a chill over you. You shuddered and rubbed your arms, regretting not grabbing at least a small jacket to have. 

“Cold?” Harry asked. 

“Just a little,” you nodded. 

“Here,” he smiled grabbing another smaller blanket from the bag and wrapping it around you. 

He kept his arms around you and it was the closest you two had ever really been. You turned your head towards him and your noses were only a few inches from one another. You noticed Harry’s gaze look down towards your lips, which caused you to do the same to his. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered. 

You bit your lip, contemplating. For some reason, you couldn’t form words, so all you could do was nod. Harry sucked in a breath before he started closing the short distance between the two of you. You closed your eyes and then you felt it. His lips against yours. His hands gently pulled you closer to him. Even though the blanket was wrapped around you, keeping you warm, you still felt a shiver run down your spine. 

After what seemed like only a few seconds, Harry pulled away. 

“Wow,” you whispered. 

“Fucking wow,” he whispered. 

Not that you’ve kissed a ton of people in your lifetime or anything, but for the kisses that you have shared with others, none of them compared to what you just felt when kissing Harry. He was staring at you while you were staring at him. You really wished he would kiss you again. Hell, you really wished you two weren’t in public anymore so that you could take the kiss to a different level. 

And that scared you. Because you knew for a fact, you were feeling something towards this man in front of you and he was feeling something for you. However, you weren’t completely sure if you were ready for what was to come next.  

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Outside the rain

[avy-avy-allaway]

In The Wreckage

Summary: Cary and Alex find themselves in an unfortunate situation

Warnings: Blood, explosions, mild language, burns, injuries

A/N: Just a short story kind of thing I wanted to do for Alex and Cary while taking a break on writing ATR before moving on to draft three. Enjoy! (Also, guess who got to re-write this a second time because Tumblr crashed and I lost like half of it? I DID)

-----

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, Cary thought.

Their task had been simple, clear-cut; find a missing witness. And with Desta’s help, it was even easier, Alex and her having tracked the guy to an old parking garage on the east side of the city, where the city had started to fade into the forest. So there they went, looking fo find the guy. 

But they didn’t find him; just a bomb. A bomb that exploded before Cary or Alex could safely exit the building. 

Letting out a groan, Cary lifted her head up, peered around her. It was dark, and chunks of the upper floors lay scattered about her. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, she thought dumbly. And yet, there she was, surrounded by concrete and rubble on all sides of her. 

She heard Alex call her name -- or at least, she thought she could. It was hard to tell between the pounding of her heart and the ringing of her ears. Tasting metal in her mouth -- she must’ve bitten her tounge -- Cary turned her head to the side, spat it out. It hit a piece of concrete, a dark red stain barely visible against the smokey remains of the parking garage.

A faint noise sounded in her ear, like something was crumbling, and looked to her left to see Alex stumbling towards her. Other than a few cuts and bruises and scrapes, he looked fairly well. Shaken, though. Cary didn’t blame him, either. If they had moved a second later, well... he might have been finding her body instead of her.

His lips moved, but Cary couldn’t hear the words clearly. It faded in and out, and she was only able to make out some glimpses of it like she was trying to hear him through water or a wall. Still, she knew well enough to know what he was asking and nodded her head. As she did so, she felt like her head was filled with some kind of thick liquid, sloshing around and making her head hurt. 

“-You g... p?” Alex’s voice rang through her ears.

“I think so,” She said, nodding, glancing to her right leg. Luckily for her, her foot was in a small hole under two concrete slabs that had fallen against each other, much like how cards made a small hole when you stacked a pyramid of them. 

Cary scooted backward and started to pull her leg out, but a sudden and sharp jolt of pain rocketed from the lower part of her calf up to her upper leg, stealing a scream from her lips, and her hands darted forward, resting them on her lower thigh. It felt like someone had run a knife through her leg.

“Hey, are you okay?!” Alex asked, dropping down next to Cary, concern laced in his voice. Cary shook her head, before tugging at her leg again, then regretting it as her leg gave another burst of pain. A whimper escaped from her lips. 

“Something happened... something happened to my leg,” Cary hissed, looking to Alex, then her leg alike. “It feels like I... like I got stabbed or s-something, but, like... like worse.”

“Dammit... do you think it’s broken?”

Cary shrugged, gulped. “I-I-I... I-I don’t know, Al.”

She heard a shaky breath escape from Alex’s lips, and he started muttering to himself under his breath, a jumble of words that Cary couldn’t quite hear. 

Cary glanced at him, then back to her leg. With the darkness, she couldn’t quite tell what was wrong, only able to tell a few shapes and figures apart due to the lighting and shadows. Her leg was on fire. It was white-hot, cruel, and furious.

For a moment, Cary sat there, trying to figure out what to do while Alex muttered under his breath. Then, a few seconds later, Alex walked around to stand behind Cary, gently put his hands on her shoulders. Cary glanced over her shoulder at him. 

“What are you-?”

“I’m going to try and pull you out,” Alex answered. “Here, lift up your arms.”

Looking back to her bad leg, Cary hesitated for a minute, not wanting to risk adding insult to injury by pulling out her leg. Realized she was being a dumbass. Complied. Lifting up her arms and moved them back as far as she could. Alex grabbed her hands, and- they were strangely cold for the middle of summer, she realized. 

“Alright, I’m going to pull on three,” Alex said, and Cary nodded, her heart skipping a beat. She knew this was going to be painful; she just didn’t know how painful it was going to be. 

“One... two...”

Alex’s grip on her hands tightened, and Cary took in a breath, screwed her eyes shut and bracing herself. 

“Three.”

With a forceful tug, Alex dragged Cary backward, effectively freeing her bad leg from the concrete but bombarding it with a jolt of pain that yanked free another scream of pain from Cary’s mouth. Then, she clamped her jaw shut, sucking in a hiss, nausea boiling in her throat, spots dotting the corner of her vision like sprinkles on ice cream.

“Hey, you’re alright, you’re alright,” Alex told her, going back to her side again. Cary managed to keep her nausea down as she glared at Alex. 

“I’m... not... alright...” She hissed at him, before trying to swallow the bile at her throat and looking back down to her leg. Raising one hand, she snapped her fingers, and a ball of fire appeared over her palm, allowing the two to see a little bit more. 

She wished she hadn’t, once she saw her leg. 

An ugly cut ran down the side of her right leg, having effectively torn through both her pants and her leg. Blood seeped out from it, mixed with smoke and grit from the fallen rubble as it dribbled down, gleaming ruby-red in the firelight.

Nausea came up quickly, then, and Cary turned her head away from Alex and put her hand over her mouth in an attempt to not hurl all over herself and/or Alex, her head swimming with muddled thoughts and distorted motions. She squeezed her eyes shut, tried to control her breathing, hands shaking. 

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 

After a few minutes, Cary could effectively straighten up without bile rising up her throat, and she looked back to her leg, sucked in a shaky breath, looked to Alex, who was muttering to himself. Back to her leg. 

“Oh god..., we... we gotta s-stop the... stop the ble... the bleeding...” Alex babbled, and although he tried to hide it, Cary had worked with Alex long enough to recognize the frantic tone in his voice. 

“How? It’s not like we have much in the way of bandages, and healers can’t heal themselves.”

“Ah, I, um... oh god, um... we need bandages, but... we... we don’t h-have any... s-s-so how do we... how do we...”

Alex started sputtering words at random, muttering to himself under his breath and looking around wildly. He was starting to freak out, and Cary didn’t like that, because she was freaking out as well and it would be better if only one of them freaked out and she was the one with a gash in her leg and-

“Alex!” She snapped, slapping him across the face before thinking better of it, then making gestures with her hands that she herself didn’t quite understand. “Can you please stop freaking out and focus, because I’m freaking out and it’s no good if two people are freaking out because one of us needs to be calm and make rational decisions!”

For a moment, Alex stared at her, a surprised look in her eyes. Then, he gave a hard shake of his head, sucked in a breath. 

“S-sorry,” He muttered, shaking his head. “You’re right... freaking... freaking out isn’t... isn’t going to do anything good... I need to focus... focus... focus...” 

He took a few deep breaths, though Cary could still see that his hands were shaking. It was dark again, Cary having put out her fire when she had gone to stop herself from throwing up. 

She snapped her fingers again, and the ball of fire appeared over her palm once more, worm and comforting. It cast light throughout the dim, cramped space of the rubble, and the dancing flame highlighted realization on Alex’s face.

“The fire,” Alex muttered after a minute or so, and Cary frowned, looked at him. 

“What?” She asked. 

“The fire,” He repeated, standing up and untying the jacket he had around his waist. “Cary, I... I need you to keep the fire burning.”

“Why?” She asked him as he tossed her the jacket. She grabbed it with her free hand, glanced to Alex to see him ruffling through his pockets. 

When Cary saw Alex pull his pocket knife from one of the pockets on his cargo pants, a stone settled in her gut as she realized what he was planning; searing the wound shut with his knife. She gulped, and the flame wavered, the light moving with it, the embers snapping and popping. 

Alex walked over to the other side of Cary, knelt down next to her and stuck the blade of the knife in the fire. He averted his gaze from her, and his expression was that of a sad puppy. 

“Sorry about this in advance,” he muttered. Cary let out a shaky breath.

“I... I... It’s fine,” Cary replied, voice quiet as she glanced around the rubble. “It’s, uh... it’s better than bleeding out, and... and, uh, well... this is, uh... not a very good place to, uh... to bleed out in... and... yeah... S-sorry for slapping you as well, too...”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Alex comforted. “I needed it.”

Cary nodded quietly in agreement, trying her best to not let her flame die out. It tended to do that when she freaked out; either that or burn hotter. Depended on the situation. 

Still, she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. Glanced around the building, the building with the fallen rubble, the building with the scent of smoke smothering the air, the building that could’ve damn well collapsed on her and killed her.

This close. She was this close to dying. Sure, she had been injured on the job before. It happened to everyone. It was just something that came with it, something that everyone expected, be it by a bullet wound stopped by a tactical vest, a broken arm or leg, a bruised rib, or maybe a slash on the arm during the knife fight. Everyone usually got one of those. 

But an explosion? That was something that rarely happened. Even in a city like Thenva, explosions weren’t common occurrences; bullet wounds were, as well as the occasional stab wound. The sense that she had just been caught in an explosion was... Uneasy. Cold. Dangerous. And it settled itself deep into her bones.

Hell, deep into her core.

Finally, Alex removed the knife from her fire, shifted, and then gestured to the jacket.

“Bite down on that,” He said, resting a knee on her upper leg. “That way you don’t bite your tounge.”

Cary nodded, putting out the fire and shoving the fabric into her mouth. Alex set a hand on Cary’s hand near the wound, and Cary screwed her eyes shut, muscles stiffening in preparation for the pain. Her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and she had to focus and shut it down before she yanked her leg away. 

A moment later, a searing pain landed on her leg, and Cary let out a scream, muffled by the jacket. She leaned forward, fingers scrambling to find something to grip, but only found concrete. Faintly, she could hear him muttering under his breath as she writhed in pain.

Normally, Cary would’ve expected the pain to pass quickly, but it didn’t, so Cary squeezed her eyes shut even tighter -- was that even possible -- yelling at herself, her mind, the void... anything that could distract her from the white-hot pain in her leg. It fucking hurt.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the pain faded, and Alex’s knee and hand moved away from her leg. Cary let out a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering open and closed, bile sticking to the back of her throat. She felt like she was going to pass out. 

“It’s done,” Alex muttered, and she could hear the relief in his breath. Cary tried to swallow the lump in her throat, couldn’t. Tears burned at the corner of her eyes. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell he was looking at her. “You okay?”

“I’m... fine...” She hissed, sucking in a breath, leaning back and tilting her head upwards towards the ceiling. “Just... in a lot of pain...”

Cary peeled open one eye, raised a shaky hand, the fire appearing again, wavering with her. She looked at her leg. It looked... better... than before if better was even the word to describe it. Either way, she would definitely have a scar that would last for a good, long time there.

“I’m sorry,” Alex muttered, and Cary glanced to him. He had his gaze averted from her, but she could still see the pain in his body language.

“T’s fine, Alex...” Cary muttered, swallowing. Looked down at the floor. “It was either that or have me bleed out... so, uh... thanks.”

Alex didn’t reply, and Cary looked at him again, tilted her head. 

“You okay?”

Alex shook his head, lowered it, rubbed the back of his neck.

“N-no... he muttered. “It’s just... I... I hate seeing you hurt, a-and... with the leg wound and... and s-searing it closed, I... I just...”

“I’m fine, Alex,” Cary said, but still unable to keep the stilt from her voice. “I-I mean, yeah, you... you might have to carry me out of here on your back, and I might be stuck at my house for a few weeks, but, uh... I’m fine. Really.”

Alex’s head moved ever-so-slightly, but she couldn’t see his face or hear what he said after if he even said anything at all. Still, Cary didn’t need to see his expression to know what he was hiding.

#atr #my characters #my writing #cc's writing #cc writes #cary #alex #writing #creative writing #fiction writing #tw: injury #tw: burns #tw: explosion #fantasy writing #writer #writeblr #writing community #original writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #tw: language #cary x alex

[prophetisaie]

Garvey ‘the Negro Moses’, Ethiopia and the Emperor.

1920 August 13 Garvey and other signatories of his Universal Negro Improvement Association adopt and sign their Declaration of the Rights of the Negro Peoples of the World at their first International Convention of Negro People's of the World, articles 39 & 40 read:

39. That the colors, Red, Black and Green, be the colors of the Negro race.

40. Resolved, That the anthem “Ethiopia, Thou Land of Our Fathers etc.,” shall be the anthem of the Negro race. . . .

The anthem was written by Burrel with music compiled by Arnold J. Ford Musical Director of Liberty Hall, Rabbi of the Congregation Beth B'nai Abraham, N. Y. and was and was later adopted as the "Ethiopia International Anthem" by Rastafarians such as the Theocracy Reign Divine Order of Nyahbinghi, Prince Emmanuel, his Bobo Shanty Ethiopia Africa Black International Congress True Devine Church of Salvation and Mortimer Planno.

August 20 Garvey is duly elected Provisional President of Africa.

1921 August William Ferris literary editor and John E Bruce journalist are knighted with order of the Nile, George Tobias with the order of Ethiopia and Henrietta Vinton Davis with Lady Commander of the Sublime order of the Nile at the UNIA annual convention.

December Garvey makes his “Christmas message to the Negro Peoples of the World” speech.

1922 January 1 Garvey makes his Emancipation day speech at Liberty Hall in New York city.

Garvey in both of the aforementioned speeches quotes verse 31 of Psalm 68 'Princes shall come out of Egypt; Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God.'

August 22 Sunday Michael Gold in in the New York World says of Garvey.

The Moses of the Negro Race Has Come to New York and Heads a Universal Organization Already Numbering 2,000,000 Which is About to Elect a High Potentate and Dreams of Reviving the Glories of Ancient Ethiopia.

August Trinidadian pilot Hubert Fauntleroy Julian, dubbed “the Black Eagle of Harlem” by H. Allen Smith because of his parachute jumps, flys a biplane over the parade of Garvey's UNIA Convention and is appointed as head of the association's new Aeronautical Department.

1923 Amy Jaques Garvey publishes "Philosophy and Opinions of Marcus Garvey" of which chapter 3 on the The Image of God reads

If the white man has the idea of a white God, let him worship his God as he desires. If the yellow man’s God is of his race let him worship his God as he sees fit. We, as Negroes, have found a new ideal. Whilst our God has no color, yet it is human to see everything through one’s own spectacles, and since the white people have seen their God through white spectacles, we have only now started out (late though it be) to see our God through our own spectacles. The God of Isaac and the God of Jacob let Him exist for the race that believes in the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob. We Negroes believe in the God of Ethiopia, the everlasting God — God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost, the One God of all ages. That is the God in whom we believe, but we shall worship Him through the spectacles of Ethiopia.

Earnest Alfred Wallace Budge sometime scholar at Christ College Cambridge University and Keeper of Egyptian and Assyrian antiquities in the British Museum publishes his first edition of the Ethiopic “Book of the Glory of Kings/Kebra Negast”.

1927 December Noble Drew Ali founder of the Moorish Holy Temple of Science proclaims Garvey as forerunner to his own coming as a prophet of the Nation of Islam.

1930 Julian at the Emperor Haile Selassie’s pre coronation show parachutes landing in front of the Emperor, the Emperor grants him citizenship and the rank of colonel as well as the highest honour in Ethiopia, the order of Menelik.

Julian at the Emperors coronation dress rehearsal crashes the Emperors personal plane de Havilland Gipsy Moth into a Eucalyptus tree, the plane was given to the Emperor as a gift from Selfridge’s department store in London.

August 18 Garvey’s play “Coronation of an African King” is performed, the play depicts the coronation of a fictional King of Sudan named Cudjoe.

1932 December Mittie Maud and Gordon found Peace Movement of Ethiopia in Chicago.

1935 May Robinson arrives in Ethiopia.

June 1 The New York News reports that 300 white and black men have volunteered through the UNIA to fight for Ethiopia in event of war with Italy. THE MARCUS GARVEY AND UNIVERSAL NEGRO IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATION PAPERS ROBERT A. HILL Editor VOLUME VVI November 1927-August 1940.

June 25 Joe Louis knocks down the Italian Primo Carnera three times and wins by a decisive technical knockout all in the sixth round of their bout at the Yankee Stadium.

July 11 Men register by signing as volunteers for war service in Abyssinia at the offices of the Pan African Reconstruction Association headed by Samuel Daniels in Harlem.

Garvey cautions Mossolini against aggressive action towards Ethiopia.

Bayen graduates from Howard University medical school.

July 10 Bayen leaves the U. S. for Ethiopia.

July 18 The Emperor delivers speech to parliament.

The International African Friends of Ethiopia is formed with C. L. R. James as Chairman, Dr. P. Mc. D. Milliard and Honorable T. Albert Marryshow as Vice Chairmen, Jomo Kenyatta as Honorable Secretary, Amy Ashwood Garvey as Treasurer and Samuel Manning as Secretary of Propaganda.

July 28 Sunday The International African Friends of Ethiopia hold meeting at Faringdon Street, Memorial Hall.

August 18 I.A.F.E. hold meeting at Conway Hall.

THE DEFENCE OF ETHIOPIA

The International African Friends of Ethiopia. (Formerly The International African Friends of Abyssinia)

If devilish force prevails and causes a war then Abyssinia will arise; and, with its Emperor leading, followed by his people, whose courage and valour are known, will defend its country against the invader to the last drop of its blood. Haile Selassie, Emperor of Ethiopia, at Addis Ababa, August 12th 1935.

THAT IS THE POSITION WE ADOPT.

Come to THE CONWAY HALL, Sunday August 18th, 1935 at 8 p.m.

Resolutions demanding that the British Government keep their Treaty obligations by

(a) Supporting Ethiopia in its struggle against Italian Fascism.

(b) Raising the embargo on the export of Arms to Ethiopia will be moved.

SPEAKERS: Dr. WILLIS N. HUGGINS, Ph.D., from America who has carried the protest of 40 organisations, both black and white, to Geneva, and will tell of the efforts of the Friends of Ethiopia in the United States of America.

Mr. C. L. R. JAMES Mr. J. M. KENYATTA Chief TUFUHIN MOORE Dr. SANDRO MAGRI, An Italian Anti-Fascist. AN ETHIOPIAN.

August Garvey praises the Emperor as a gentleman and calls Mussolini a barbarian guilty of savagery.

September 2 Amy Ashwood and the International African Friends of Ethiopia held a rally in London at Trafalgar Square.

Afterwards, Amy posed for a photograph with two of the sons of the Ethiopian Minister Dr. Warqenah Eshete (aka Dr. Charles Martin), Benyam and Yosef (2nd and 3rd from the right).

Both sons were Co-Founders of the radical and militant Black Lion Organization that was involved in liberating Ethiopia from Italian occupation and tyranny.

Unfortunately, shortly after taking this photo the two were arrested in Ethiopia and summarily executed for the attempted assassination of the Italian Viceroy Marshall Rodolfo Graziani. — at Trafalgar Square.

September 11 The Jamaica Gleaner

The Honorable Amy Ashwood Garvey speaks before a London crowd at Trafalgar Square, denouncing the Italian invasion of Ethiopia.

“No race has been so noble in forgiving, but now the hour has struck for our complete emancipation. We will not tolerate the invasion of Abyssinia.“

Mrs. Garvey said: “In this struggle, the black women are marching beside the men. You white people brought us out of Africa to Christianize us and civilize us, but all the Christianity and civilization you gave us for 320 years was slavery. You have talked of ‘The White Man’s burden.’ Now we are carrying yours and standing between you and Fascism.”

She warned the British Government that if this became a struggle between the “Blacks” and the “Whites” that three quarters of the people of the Empire are colored.

October 10 The International African Friends of Ethiopia at a meeting at Clarks theatre in Castries, Saint Lucia protest the Foreign Enlistment Act and pass the following resolution in view of the provoked aggression of Italy against unarmed Ethiopia the penal clause of the above act be waived so far as it applies to west Indians to permit St. Lucian's who may desire to do so volunteering to go to Ethiopia ". FO 371/20154 in the English Public Records Office.

A. L. King and his Provisional Committee for the Defense of Ethiopia ship medical supplies to the Emperor.

1936 February Peace Movement of Ethiopia, Inc., rival wing of unincorporated movement of the same, formed in Illinois under direction of Garvey’ites Charles Watkins and Ethel Waddel, Waddel accuses movement founder Mittie Mord Lena Gordon of incompetence and hostility toward Garvey.

April A. L. King New York UNIA division president endorses racially integrated demonstrations in support of Ethiopia cause.

1937 January Garvey blasts Haile Selassie in editorials; blames Emperor for Italian defeat and praises Mussolini as “an astute diplomat and statesman.”

March UNIA members express criticism of Garvey for his negative statements about the Emperor and some refuse to continue supporting the UNIA.

May 30 Garvey calls the Emperor a 'dumb trickster'. Randolph Bunche dairy entry.

May Garvey is heckled off the platform at Hyde Park by students angered over his criticism of the Emperor.

September 9 Kenyatta attends the 'Abyssinia and Justice' conference.

October 17 Garvey visit’s St. Lucia.

1940 June 10 Garvey passes away at age 52 in West Kensington, London.

Mussolini declares war on France and Britain whilst addressing the crowd from the balcony of the Palazzo Venezia and begins by attacking British and Common Wealth Forces in Egypt, Sudan and British Somaliland.

1945 October 15-21 Du Bois attends the Fifth Pan African Congress held at Chorlton Hall on Canvendish Street in Manchester, England, Kenyatta, Jacques Garvey, Kwame Nkrumah and George Padmore are among others who also attend the congress.

[mightykittyyt]

So uh... Heres some info about my ocs~

There will be more text on EN’s part, but thats because shes more developed!

IN ‘headcanons’ (She's my oc so i guess it's more like facts than anything else…):

Her hands tend to get shaky sometimes and that's why she hates using small brushes.

She does actually have a soul, but it's not really good at displaying the proper emotions at the right time.

She gets mad really often.

like, really often.

she’s also pretty sadistic most of the time, i don't think she knows it herself though.

mistakenly used blood as red paint before and comments on how she would like to use it more often.

IN’s soul is just a vessel. It contains the shards she used to eat before. She still has to eat the shards, but she doesn't have to feel the feeling of the shard straight away, only when the soul deems the emotion appropriate for the occasion.

Which usually isn't the appropriate emotion. She needs some emotional control…

IN is really good at making chocolate. It's like you're tasting heaven.

The surprising ingredient is explosions.

Lets just say that if you hear explosions and you're with IN she probably exploded the kitchen making chocolate.

She would repair it for you though since she has nothing better to do, and honestly EN is only a threat to her chocolate.

EN doesn't even seem to try destroying things anymore, she just hangs out with ‘the gang’

But honestly IN doesn't mind EN hanging out with the gang. They're all idiots who has no common sense and it makes IN laugh really bad when they do something stupid.

It's usually something dangerous that IN finds funny.

That damn sadist

When IN is kind though…

Prepare to be mentally weirded out by how affectionate and cute she is.

Like seriously she’ll just shower you with endless affection and gifts, mostly consisting of chocolate, but shaped into hearts, animals, plants and etc. 

All Nassis loves cuddles.

Give this sadistic woman some cuddles.

Cuddles are the second best thing.

The first is EN doing something stupid.

She does care fo EN though. They have this love hate relationship that sisters seems to have.

she is asexual.

EN ‘headcanons’ (She's my oc too so i guess it's more like facts than anything else…):

EN loved to draw and has her own drawing collection.

Keyword: Loved. Past tense.

Of course they're old drawings, but sometimes she gets a weird urge to just draw something, sometimes something nice…

But other times…

She wants to aggressively scribble and stab the paper, tear it into pieces, chew it then burn it with a flamethrower and stomp on it's ashes.

You know the thing where there’s a good side and a bad side?

What if both sides were bad?

One side is an innocent looking girl, likes to wear white or pastels, loves to make flower crowns and stuff…

But she is secretly a manipulative murderer.

The other is… Well… EN. That one where she runs around with a flamethrower and burning everything that's near her, or just sometimes stab things for fun.

She doesn't NEED to stab things obviously, she can find a much quicker and less messy way to kill someone, but sometimes you're just too lazy to do magic…

CLTN is the innocent looking one, but is probably the cruelest. She loves killing them slowly, her victims usually die by blood loss. Her favorite killing method is the befriend betray method. Just the look on their face when their supposed ‘friend’ stabs them in the back… Literally and figuratively at the same time. Usually CLTN will avoid harming the heart or anything on the face, usually stabbing the legs, arms or just stabbing the victims back and miss the heart on purpose.

But EN likes a fast and clean method.

EN can't be bothered to clean anything, CLTN can't be bothered either, but it's not that big of a deal to her since she just leaves the person dying in an alleyway and destroys any form of communication before leaving. The only hard part is sneaking back home undetected and cleaning her clothes and knife. She usually wears gloves so fingerprints arent much of a problem.

Anyway, back to EN…

She really isn't the one you should be worried about, she is pretty chill and it would take a lot for her to actually try and kill you. She just isn't bothered. After all there isn't many aus in the multiverse she lives in, so if she tries to destroy them all there would literally be nothing left to do, and she does try to destroy them sometimes, but she would much rather plan stealing chocolate from IN.

EN is usually very affectionate, but sometimes she's faking it.

It can be really hard to tell when she's faking it, but if she clings onto you so much you feel like your bones will break, and if she stops when you say it's too tight, then it's probably real affection. If she doesn't stop crushing you in the hug, either she is trying to annoy you usually only does it for a few seconds, or she's faking it this will last until you're begging for your bones to live.

If she considers you her real friend she will endlessly shower you with affection anywhere you go… Literally. As long as she is allowed to go there. The clinginess is dependent on how close you are.

If you're as close with EN as ‘the gang’ is which is highly unlikely, then she will literally be a leech, but the only difference is that she will never get off. She will give you privacy when you sleep, change your clothes, go do anything in the bathroom or if you're trying to cook, but don't expect her to sit still while you do it. If you're cooking she would help if she would, slicing food like she is a master, but is really bad at anything else.

If you're changing or doing stuff in the bathroom not counting brushing your teeth and taking a bath, she will talk to you.

If you're going to sleep she might sometimes ask to cuddle.

Please give this attention starved baby affection.

She haven't touched anyone for 13 years and when her haphephobia was cured she has been craving for any sort of touch.

She's also surprisingly innocent when it comes to sexual things. She knows everything about torture and murder techniques, but sex is just something she doesn't know at all.

EN doesn't really know the difference with PDA and P(rivate)DA so she just does the same thing she would do regardless of where you were nad how many were watching.

This woman doesn't know what embarrassment is.

If you tell her to stop doing something in public she would listen, but when your in private again get ready to get showered with pent up affection.

If you're her friend she would still be clingy but wouldn't disturb you when you sleep, change your clothes, go do anything in the bathroom or if you're trying to cook.

She might help with the cooking sometimes or talk with you while doing it, but otherwise there won't be any affection when you're doing these things.

she would still hang on you like a leech, but since her attention span is literally nothing, she would get distracted and go somewhere then come back and just walk and talk like a normal human and it's just confusing sometimes.

Her attention span changes the closer you are with her.

EN only began destroying aus because she had a… hmm… complicated past with IN.

she is demisexual and straight.

#headcanon #does this even count? #Eh whatever #EN #IN #Oc #I spent an hour and a half on this thing in the middle of the night kill me-

[melmac78]

Sentence starters: The day Lady Penelope got jealous

(Note: I have most of another one in my head, but this one worked out faster. Starters are in bold italics.)

“He’s so pretty I think I’m gonna faint.”

Gordon sighed as he yet again heard a woman coo at him from the edges of the dance floor at the Austrian mansion.

He noticed the dark look of the brunette currently in his arms and shrugged. “I get that a lot,” he apologized.

His dancing partner snorted. “She better not... or she’ll faint by my right hook,” said the woman.

Gordon, choosing to not point out the incorrect medical statement just gritted his teeth and smiled, quickening up the waltz around the floor.

The young aquanaut may have lived life to the fullest, loved being at any type of party... but despised these types of socials.

Not the company per se, but the fact his family’s generosity toward others meant he wasn’t with his date having fun.

He and Lady Penelope were at a fundraiser for a children’s hospital. Gordon had been invited to attend as the Tracy representative to present the family’s donated item.

What neither expected was the fact most of the women there: stuffy, dripping with jewels and money, would demand to dance with the second youngest Tracy.

So, Gordon agreed to a few dances for a donation to the hospital.

What should’ve been a couple of dances that lasted 10 minutes had turned into an hour and a half, and counting.

The last chord finally faded, and with a chaste kiss to the hand, Gordon left his dancing partner.

He then walked over to the one person who made his heart truly flutter. Lady Penelope looked ever elegant in a pink ombré beaded and lace dress. The dress started out on top in a pale pink, fading into a deep rose just past the knees.

It matched the ombré tie and cuff links he wore with his white tux perfectly. “Hi Lady P... and Parker,” he said.

The older man gave a polite nod, choosing to not speak, while Penny gave a slight giggle at the exchange.

Her chauffeur and dear friend Parker was nearby, keeping an eye on her and Gordon, but not being intrusive.

She admittedly chuckled at the fact for all Parker was doing to try and stay inconspicuous, the caterers were a bit leery of the older man and their actions prevented discretion.

Lady Penelope smiled as he neared the refreshments table. “So, how was your dance with Mallory Dewdrop?” she said politely.

Gordon smiled, though the aristocrat didn’t miss the wince of his eyes. “Charming,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly. “For a moment there I was afraid I’d have to be a paramedic.”

Lady Penelope quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?” she said cool-toned. “Pretending she was going to have a coronary from being love struck?”

Gordon scoffed. “No, this one thought of decking the competition,” he said as he ate a mini spinach quiche. “And that was because someone talked about me.”

Penelope smiled. “Let me guess, some sort of simpering remark regarding your looks, your Olympic gold medal or your family,” she said.

“I think this one about being so handsome she ‘had a case of the vapors’,” he said, finishing his appetizer with a swig of punch. “I admit I’ve been more than happy to earn the hospital more money, but over an hour’s worth of dances?”

The woman opened her mouth to speak when they heard a waltz come into play

Gordon grinned broadly, holding out his hand. “And as Mallory was the last dance on my card... Lady Penelope may I have this dance?”

Penelope smiled and reached out for his hand, only to have it suddenly slapped away and be pushed back.

Gordon frowned at the action, but then was harshly grabbed from the side. “Hey!” he said indignantly as he turned to the offender.

He saw a raven haired woman with cold grey eyes stare at him. While she was young and by most descriptions a knockout, what made him shudder was how she eyed him like a piece of meat.

Penelope recovered and looked at the offender. “Madison Smyers,” she said, gritting her teeth.

The woman nodded. “Yes, how nice to see you Penny,” she said, voice dripping with lava.

Lady Penelope turned her nose up at the nickname. It was reserved for friends, and the woman standing in front of her was as much of a friend as Fischler had a successful invention.

Meaning - no friend at all.

Madison then turned to Gordon. “You’re dancing with me,” she said bluntly.

“What?!” Gordon tried to step back, but the woman’s grip would put a lion’s jaws to shame.

He then recovered. “I’m sorry but I have asked Pen... Lady Penelope to dance,” he stammered.

The raven haired woman looked at Penelope with derision. “I don’t think she’ll mind...”

“Actually, I do mind,” corrected Penelope.

Gordon smiled. “It is the Lady Penelope’s prerogative...” he started, wanting nothing to do with Madison.

The intruder was having none of it. “You’ll accept the dance ... unless Penny would like me to tell the others to rescind all their donations to the hospital,” she said, then smirked. “Or say all other Creighton-Ward charities.”

Gordon blanched. Though Lady Penelope was a London agent, part of her cover was helping these charities.

To lose the sponsors because of one of these dances would likely cause her to lose important covers, affecting her help in International Rescue, and both he and the blonde-haired woman knew it.

So, he sighed in resignation and smiled. “I’d love to,” he said, inwardly grimacing as he was led to the dance floor.

Penelope frowned as she watched Gordon dance with Madison, and felt something she never had before.

This wasn’t a simple “We do what we must” feeling that was common with her social duties.

It was flat out fury at how the woman blackmailed both her and Gordon.

And another feeling, as she looked around the social at the ones who danced with him.

Jealousy.

‘But what to do about it?’ she mused.

There was a gentle tap on her shoulder. “Beggin’ you pardon m’lady, but you appear to need a cooling punch,” said Parker, handing her a glass.

Penelope, realizing Parker has noticed she was fuming, completely unladylike, nodded and took a sip of the frosty lime sherbet punch. “Thank you Parker,” she said, eyes still narrowed. “Can you believe that... that... Madison...?”

“Yes, I can. She and the h’others ‘ave had their greasy ‘ands on Gordon all night, when ‘e’s supposed ta be with you,” said the chauffeur, and sighed. “And that’s not right.”

Penelope turned to Parker, a bit surprised. “I thought you might be happy with his plight,” she said perplexed. She was well aware Parker wasn’t too fond of the aquanaut.

Parker put his hands up. “No, m’lady... h’I tease ‘im true, but h’I’m not ‘appy,” he said adamantly. “Scott said Gordon ‘as been lookin’ forward to this for weeks... and yet ‘e hasn’t danced with you once.”

“True,” said Penelope, who then sighed. “Parker, what am I going to do? I can’t risk Madison harming the charities...”

Parker smile. “Well... why not fight fire with fire?” he said, mischievously.

The woman first was puzzled, but thought about comments said throughout the night.

Her grin then broadened. “Parker, I have an idea, but I’ll need your help,” she said.

The older man not so innocently grinned and said - his count - two words.

“Yes, m’lady.”

•••••••

Gordon was miserable as he waltzed on the floor.

He had so wanted to dance with Lady Penelope, and was incensed he was dancing with this ... interloper.

“Interloper... John would be happy I learned a new word,” he thought, groaning inwardly as Madison put her head in his shoulder.

He didn’t miss where she put her free hand on his back half either, or the derisive comments about his date.

The aquanaut sighed, and was so lost in his misery he didn’t notice the music stopped or murmured voices.

Then, there was a tug on his jacket. “Mr. Gordon...” said a gruff, but urgent voice.

Turning, Gordon frowned and stopped dancing. “Parker?” he said, perplexed at Parker’s panicked expression.

Parker nodded. “Beggin’ you pardon, h’it’s Lady Penelope - she’s fainted,” he said bluntly, pulling Gordon with him.

“Fainted?” said Gordon, concerned as he started to head over.

Madison grabbed his arm. “She’s faking, because I stole her date,” she scoffed.

Gordon pried her fingers off his arm. “No, she doesn’t fake illness,” he growled. “And as the only paramedic here I will go over and check on her,” he said.

“But...”

“But nothing Madison. Someone needs my help...,” he started, only to see her lift a jewel encrusted private communicator to her mouth.

Seeing the charity’s largest donor’s avatar on it, he grabbed that wrist and narrowed his eyes. “Listen carefully: if you threaten me or Lady Penelope with losing charity money over it I will make your life miserable,” he growled warningly.

It was a vague threat, but it worked as Madison stepped back, lowering her wristband.

Gordon nodded in satisfaction and went over to the crowd.

His heart sank when he saw Penelope on the ground, motionless with others trying to bring her around.

Gordon shooed the gawkers away and kneeled by the senseless woman. “Lady Penelope... Pen... can you hear me?” he said, checking her pulse.

The aquanaut briefly paused, puzzled as he propped up her feet on his shoulder to get the blood flowing back to her brain.

Shortly after, Penelope stirred, making them all sigh in relief.

Gordon lowered her feet and leaned over as she opened her eyes. “Gordon?” she said groggily.

“Yes your ladyship,” said Gordon, in full professional paramedic mode as he checked her pulse again. “Rest now... you fainted.”

Penelope blushed faintly. “Oh,” she said simply. “It must be the stuffiness in here.”

“Maybe,” Gordon said, fighting a grin at the double meaning - it was warm too.

He then offered a hand. “I think some fresh air will help. Do you think you can stand?”

Penelope nodded and stood with Gordon’s assistance. She wobbled however, and the aquanaut swept her up in his arms.

“Easy Penelope,” he said, then heard a whispered comment in his ear from the host.

He nodded and headed toward the rose garden, carrying Lady Penelope.

Madison, still incensed at being abruptly dismissed and threatened, followed. No one would deny her the right to steal one of Lady Penelope’s dates...

That is, until she was blocked by a stern looking Parker. “H’and where to you think you’re going,” he said.

“I...I...”

Seeing the woman nearly speechless, he not quite so gently grabbed her arm. “Well, your comin’ with me,” he said sternly. “‘Cause you h’and I need ta have a chat about what charity and respect is...”

••••••

Meanwhile Gordon carried his friend to a lounge in the center of the rose garden.

“How are you feeling Penny?” he said kindly as he set her down.

The young woman smiled. “Better, thank you Gordon,” she said.

The aquanaut chortled. “I bet... since you didn’t faint,” he said. Seeing Penelope about to protest, he put a hand up. “Nice try, but you can’t fool a paramedic completely.”

She blushed. “I’m sorry Gordon, but ...”

“Thank you,” he said, making her look up in surprise. “That woman was getting way too touchy-feely.”

“Touchy-feely?” She said, quirking an eyebrow.

Gordon cleared his throat, shuddering. “Well... let’s just say the only buns she needs to squeeze next time are of the flour and dough variety,” he said derisively.

Penelope to his surprise politely giggled. “I do admit she does have a point there,” she said mischievously, giving her own apprising look.

“Jealous much?” he teased as he jokingly flexed.

Seeing the woman look away, he frowned and sat down next to her.

“You were jealous,” he said honestly, surmising what happened.

She nodded. “Gordon, I invited you to come because I wanted to spend time with you,” Lady Penelope admitted. “And instead I see all these - ‘lovely’ - women dance and flirt with you...”

Gordon gave her a gentle hug. “Pen... I only danced with them as part of our agreement to raise money,” he said. “I expected two, maybe three dances, not 12.”

“I know but...

“Trust me, next time I’ll ensure it’s a couple, in writing, with an extremely high starting bid...” he said. “And only again with your approval.”

She smiled and he returned it as he continued to hold her.

“Can we stay like this forever?” said Penelope, nestling deeper in his shoulder.

“I don’t see why not... you could ‘faint’ again,” he said, “I mean, I’m so handsome I make people swoon.”

That earned him a playful swat on the shoulder, and he laughed.

They looked at the stars for a time, wondering if John was watching from Thunderbird Five.

Gordon chuckled at the thought, as John still went slightly pale at any mention of a recent social in the Swiss Alps.

Or the word social at all for that matter.

Penelope however was happier John was on Five for another reason.

“Dance with me Gordon?” she asked.

The aquanaut grinned broadly. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said, and they began to dance under the moonlight.

After a few minutes, she looked up into the warm cinnamon brown eyes of her friend. “Gordon, I had one more favor,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Please just kiss me already.”

Gordon smiled. “Yes, m’lady,” he said, enjoying the flowers, sky and most importantly, a dear friend who would gladly embarrass herself slightly to help another.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfic

[stellarwoods]

23.5 Japan Rep Player Profile | Niou Masaharu p.66-67

I love Niou, so I wanted to try my hand at translating his profile! I'm like, the most novice translator ever, so please let me know if I make mistakes! Thank you to @holycowbrowniekitty​ for letting me bug her about things I didn't understand! 💛💛💛 

p. 66

N I O U   M A S A H A R U

"I'll keep on hitting continuous Phantoms!" 

Whether it's a lie, a truth, or something in between, it's no longer an issue. Piercing through everything with his "Trickster Policy" is his pride. With skilled technique, he's waging a war of trickery against the world.

 P R O F I L E

U-17 World Cup Japan Representative | Rikkaidai Fuzoku Middle School 3rd Year

Birthday: December 4th (Sagittarius)

Blood Type: AB

Hobby: Darts, Black Jack

Family: Father, Mother, Older Sister, Younger Brother

Motto: Straddling the black white horse and going backwards to the front.

Favorite Color: Blue

Favorite Food: Yakiniku (oxtail soup)

Favorite Book: To Become Honest in Heart

Ideal Type: A person who shows him their true face

Preferred Dating Spot: Las Vegas

What He Wants Most Right Now: Glow-in-the-dark paint and balloons (usage unknown)

What He's Bad With: Heat, Vegetables

Special Skills Outside of Tennis: Shooting Games*, Die Cutting**, Coin Toss

Daily Tournament Routine: Restocking his pockets with hard candies and chocolates

 D A T A

Height: 176 cm

Weight: 60 kg

Dominant Hand: Left

Signature Move: Trick Play, Illusion

Play Style: All Rounder

Favorite Brands:

     Racket: Prince MORE POWER 1150 S

     Shoes: YONEX Power Cushion Wide 271 (SHT-271 W)

Pic: Niou phasing into his Tezuka Illusion, "Niou's Illusion is limitless. It's getting closer to reality."

The "Illusion" that embodies various techniques. By changing the subject of his transformation in the middle of a match, he can break through a difficult situation.

 p. 67

Pic: Niou's Atobe Illusion, "From the start, this guy…" Atobe disguised as Niou, "I'm good at endurance battles."

He can even take on the appearance of Atobe himself. It was perfected to such a degree that not even allies close by could see through it.

Pic: Niou saying "Pupinacho" while tired and sweaty.

This unique vocal tic is his trademark, he'll never forget it even during difficult times.

Pic: Niou clutching his arm in pain.

Fighting to his limits for the sake of the team, the Niou up until now wouldn't think of it.

  What is he thinking about behind this free-spirited behavior?

The Unfathomable Outsider!

Because you can’t grasp Niou’s true feelings through his behavior, there are many inexplicable things which cause others to think he's arrogant. As aloof as he is, his feelings towards his team and allies are strong. He will even risk himself for the sake of victory.

 His tricks are already reality! The unconventional trickster's path for the sake of the team!

 Messages to Niou

Kabaji: In the training camp… drinking tea together… it was fun… Atobe-san... please take care of him…

Kiko: "One, two three!" I saw his magic! Wow, he's a representative!" ***

Yuho: Really, when you Syncro'd with us, I was surprised. It seems fun to have triplets though.

Mac: There's no way he switched places during our match, right?! The techniques of the Japanese are so kickass!

 Bag Inspection: Travel Bag Edition

By Yagyuu Hiroshi

Candy and Chocolate

Mindful of his weight loss, he may be trying to consume more calories.  I saw that he was also giving them away to Tooyama and Marui.

 Tenipedia: Mitsuya Edition!

Recently, he seems to be getting into collecting hairpins.

Ribbon designs, flower designs, and a variety of others. Because he has long hair, it seems he uses them when washing his face. I borrowed one the other day.

 ---

Translator Notes:

*Shooting games as in the light guns you find in old arcades… the classic game aesthetic is beautiful I know ;-; 💛

**Die cutting (型抜き) has two (cute af) potential meanings. One is more hobby crafting and how you get those cutouts in scrapbooks and stuff (there are more industrial versions for mass producing things, but Niou is 15; he's not doing that lmao) The second is where you carve candy molds from stencils and the like, and they're cute af. It started as a festival event, but it's also done to make cute food lol. The candy one is usually written as カタヌキ, but when fake shopping for supplies online, it still came up a lot, so idk which one it is for sure. 

***Kiko's basically saying he was surprised Niou's a Japan rep bc he thought he was a magician by trade lmao 

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Read More About Niou!

Niou's 20.5 Profile

Niou's 40.5 Profile

#prince of tennis #tenipuri #niou masaharu #lupin tries translating #23.5 #niou #translation