#talking to a strange girl asking normal sounding questions with a look sharper than any axe he's ever seen

[101-sve]

Fledglings

The Market, 1982

#Homestuck #alpha dave #alpha rose #rose lalonde #dave strider #Rosa looks like the cat who's caught the canary #though David isn't one to be taken so lightly #he may be small but he’s no skittish bird #but oh what a price to pay for an apple #talking to a strange girl asking normal sounding questions with a look sharper than any axe he's ever seen #what is he about to get himself into #bro strider #dirk strider #hom3stuck #fledglings au #fledglings

[bitterletters]

When someone loves you, the way they talk about you is different. You feel safe and comfortable. - Jess C. Scott

This is more of my Assassins Creed AU with Anya.

Anya has never been loved. That is not to say that she is unloved. But she is not loved. Not in the way Zoe and Isaac had pressed together like they had been woven from the same cloth. Or in the way that Katya and Emily smile so sweetly at each, timid hands always finding each other and holding. Normally, this doesnt bother her, Anya is a busy girl. Endlessly running here and there. Always busy. No time to love or to let herself be loved. No time for anything, not even the questions she has for herself when she sees Isaac's top surgery scars on his chest.

And now Zoe-and-Isaac are just-Isaac and Katya and Emily are still hand in hand but ended in a way Anya can never forgove the Templars for. Now Anya thinks it's too late to be loved the way her friends were and do. Now she has time to think, there is no endless hustle to feed everyone, to find or take supplies, no more frantic fleeing of the group from one refuge to another equally broken refuge.

Anya isnt sure she likes thinking. Because thinking doesn't give any answers she wants. So instead she looks at what the Apple has done. What it brought back. Dragged out of her screams and desperation into...something she has no knowledge of. Because this man with his dark skin and darker eyes has been brought back. There is no other answer for him. Anya hadn't asked his name. He hadn't asked hers either, she justified with an angry little snarl in her stomach, the same one that kept her going and going and going and-.

He knew Masyaf better than her, and his eyes were shuttered shut, like great doors to keep the strangeness of her out, but even Anya with her "social inexperience" could see the deep grief in his hand when he ran his fingertips over the stone of the walls or when he found some part of the fortress reduced to rubble. This man was supposed to be dead as the skeleton in the library had been. She knew this. Felt it in a bitter sort of certainty. But some combination of the temple, the apple, the her, had dragged him from...whatever he had been doing to here. Where he was just as out of place as she was. For while these halls had clearly been known to him and known well, this was not his time.

But he didn't seem in a hury to speak to her. And Anya didn't know what to say to him. What could she say? "I'm sorry you're here i was scared and angry and threw the Apple and somewhere between that, agony and the temple beneath Masyaf glowing an angry white you apeared?" So instead she stayed quiet and avoided him. But avoiding him led to thinking so she took to following him as he explored the ruined fortress, as if he was relearning its walls. Perhaps he was. Anya wouldnt know. She left him food and water in the corner of the library slash temple he claimed for himself. And she pointedly doesnt think of how the hell she was meant to explain this man to the resistance.

After a week of this strange stalemate, the man grew tired of this routine and asked her a question. A quick sharp biting of words over his shoulder followed by a glare that feels sharper than whatever he just said sounded. She was so startled by it that she staggered and he snorted, muttering something under his breath that was probably an insult. He asked again, this time more insistant, a firmness underlying his words. She flushed in that embarrassed oh-shit-language-barrier way and cleared her throat.

"I..." Anya cleared her throat again, straightened her spine out of the meek cower she'd fallen into by habit and continued, "I don't understand. You speak english at all?" He looked at her disdainfully and she couldn't blame him, who goes to another country without learning the language? Much less does...whatever she had done.

"I said are you going to tell me what this is?" He finally said, although from his tone, Anya imagined he'd likely insulted her while he was at it.

"It's Masyaf." Anya felt like he probably knew that, what with the way he knew the layout of the fortress far better than she did. But if he wanted to ask her odd questions, at least they shared a language for her to answer him in. Her words didn't seem to appease him and he stared at her in disbelief.

Suddenly nervous, in that way she had always been when she answered in a way that was, apparently, wrong somehow, Anya found herslef elaborating with what lottle she knew. Which was very little.

"It used to be I guess a training faculty? For the assasssins. When they existed." This was apparently a worse thing to say and the man scoffed at her word, anger visble in a startling way.

"Training faculty?" The disdain in his voice was so thick it felt suffocating and rather than continue speaking, the man turns from her, striding back to the temple-library-base that she hasn't found a solid name for yet. She debated following him but instead climbed (scrambled anxiously) up a tower to report to the resistance what she had done.

Isaac was quiet when she told him what happened. Then a laugh nearly as sharp as the words the man had bit out earlier clawed its way out of her friend and she grumbled at him as he laughed until it clearly hurt.

"Only you, Anya. You really dragged some guy from who the fuck knows when to here. And naturally, you havent even asked his name." Isaac sighed, "You gotta find out more about him, y'know. Maybe even befriend him. We could use all the allies we can get." Otherwise our resistance will end up like the assasssins did. That part went unsaid as always and Anya sighed grimly.

"I know."

There was a long moment of silence and Anya shifts uncomfortably. The sky is getting darker and she doesn't look forward to whatever snow it's going to spit out at her. She hasn't had to scavenge the little village nearby for supplies in weeks and she doesn't want to risk it when the man is such an unknown factor.

"Anya..." Isaac's voice was careful and she focused ochre eyes on her radio. She let oit a little grunt of inquiry. He sighed heavily and then cleared his voice, his next words business like and focused. "Anything else to report?"

Anya started to shake her head but caught herself, "No, Isaac, thank you." Isaac cut off contact and she stared morosely for a moment before a snowflake hit her neck and she hissed. Still, as she carefully descended(it was really more like controlled falling), there was a heaviness in her stomach that had been there since that morning she had found her mother's body in the living room. It followed her into her own corner where she'd piled several pillows and blankets.

The man was there. Seated in the middle of her pillows, as if she hadnt given him his own blankets and pillows. Far fewer than her own perhaps but she had always wanted more than what was considered average. Anya slowed to a stop before him, eyes narrowed questioningly at the intruder upon her bedding.

He took one look at her glowering down at him with golden eyes and let out an amused sound somewhere between a chuckle and a derisive snort. "Sit." He said after a moment and Anya couldn't see a reason not to so she did. This seemed to amuse him again, but he didn't explain what was so amusing about it and she wasnt sure how to ask. The amusement slid slowly out of his face leaving behind something she didnt know how to recognize.

"Masyaf was not merely training. It was a fortress." Here he stopped and looked at her, his eyes searching. Whatever he found left him silent for a long moment and Anya pulled her eyes away from his, suddenly reminded of how uncomfortable most were with her staring. When he spoke again, his voice was softer than it had been.

"It was my home. I was born here. My brother was born here. We trained here yes. But we lived here." He continued to speak about Masyaf for a time. And Anya did not understand. Not really. He spoke to her of a man named Altair. Of a brother called Kadar. Of prayers and traditions. Never in details, only in context of what Masyaf was. Anya knew running and hiding. She knew what it meant to flee, but this man spoke of this place as if it had been worth protecting. He spoke of battles to protect it and all that had been within it. He spoke of this ruined place as something he loved, determination in his voice. She did not, could not understand. After he was done he looked at her again and she had the sense that she should give him something back.

She met his eyes, dark coffee to her light honey and helplessly offered, "My name is Anya. I live here now."

He watched her solemnly and she worried she had once again done something wrong before-

"Malik."

#malik al sayf #my writing #fanfic #assassin's creed au #assassin's creed fanfiction #i hate tags

[julemmaes]

Honey - part two

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: I’m so tired yall have no idea. My eyes are burning and my fingers are cramping cause I’ve been writing all day to get this done, so yeah, I’m very satisfied and some of the blogs that I consider big or are big for a fact started following me and commented on the first part, so I freaked out a little, but I can tell that I’ll sleep peacefully tonight because of that, so thank you all. Enjoy!:)

Oh, and I almost forgot, the song at the end is called “Honey” and it’s by Johnny Balik (shoker, as my man Kieran would say)

masterlist

Word count: 4,966

Lorcan's least favourite day was definitely Friday, unlike all people his age. Not because he didn't like going out in the city at night to have fun and drink until you forgot even your mother's name, but because it was the only day of the week he had to work at both the shelter and the toy shop.

He loved working with the dogs and the few cats they brought in, and although he wasn't really a people person, he enjoyed spending time deciding with the kids and parents what was the best gift to go home with. And although Lorcan would never admit it out loud, he had grown fond of some of the regulars - especially a mother of three who he knew worked as a lawyer in one of the offices above the shop. Almost every day she would come in during her lunch break to buy one of those surprise sachets that cost a euro each and if Lorcan didn't see her coming before he went on his break, he would wait a few minutes before closing up just for her. Elide had managed to find out this detail a few months later after she moved in and he knew she would never stop teasing him because he had a heart of gold.

The phone vibrated in his hand just as he got behind the wheel and he wasn't at all surprised to see that the last message he had gotten was from Elide.

He huffed, not even opening yet another link that would surely send him to yet another website with information on why the world was ending very slowly and why humans were to be blamed entirely. He started the car and drove off towards their house.

Lorcan wasn't a bad person and he really cared about everything Elide was sending him, but he was tremendously tired and all he could think about was how much he wanted to take a shower and pass out in his bed. The fact that none of this was going to happen because Fenrys and Rowan had forced him to accept the invitation out to dinner made it all worse.

It took him less than ten minutes to get home and when he parked and saw the lights in their living room on, he seriously considered backing up and getting out of there to get to Vaughan's house before Elide noticed his car and he wouldn't be able to get away no more.

He was sure his friend would take him in without question if he asked to put him up for a night.

But luck was not on his side as Elide's petite figure appeared in the window and Lorcan could not see her face, but he knew she was smiling as she bounced and waved to greet him.

Despite everything, Lorcan raised his hand in turn and smiled back at her, knowing full well that even she could not see him so low and hidden by the evening shadows.

As he climbed the sixth flight of stairs and mentally prepared himself for two more, he could foresee the flood of words that would wash over him when he entered the house. Elide hadn't kept quiet for the entire day, sending him voice messages and staying with him on calls for the entire duration of his lunch break, so much so that at one point he had wondered if she had gone to class and then to work. He had discovered that yes, she had gone, but she hadn't paid the slightest attention to what they had explained and had gotten half the customers' orders wrong.

When he opened the front door, he recognized the melody of one of the songs she'd put on her apology playlist, the one he'd made for her nearly three weeks earlier after she'd found out he still smoked. She'd seemed so hurt that after he'd gone to bed and cleaned the tiles of his blood until they glistened, he'd stood at the kitchen table and spent hours and hours searching for the perfect apology songs. A bit dramatic perhaps, but it had had the desired effect.

He sighed, slipping off his jacket and putting it as far away from Elide's as possible, so that no animal hair would get on hers. He would clean it later.

The girl in question sputtered out of the living room with a beaming smile on her face, her cheeks strangely red and her eyes so bright they were glossy, "Hello, handsome."

"Hi, Ellie." he murmured, straightening his back and making the bones in his neck crack. Elide approached and Lorcan took a step back, bumping his back against the door, "I haven't showered yet," he put his hands forward to keep her at arm's length, "you can touch and hug me all you want later, but please not now," he begged her.

She gave the cutest pout he had ever seen, "But-"

"No buts, you can wait three minutes for me to wash up without dying," he continued, walking past her without touching her or making any overly sudden movements.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she complained, that adorable pout deepening all the more, "I can always take the antihistamine if I get allergies."

Lorcan shook his head, turning a confused expression on her, "I'd rather you didn't take medication just because you want to hug me."

It was true.

To their great misfortune, Elide was one of the very few people he knew who was allergic to animal hair. Any animal. More precisely, she was allergic to the mites that lived in the fur and the dust that accumulated in it in enormous quantities even on a normal basis. Given that the dogs Lorcan worked with were left to run loose in the fields all day, when he came home he was covered in anything that could kill his friend and roommate in one sniff and he didn't want to have to take her to the emergency room again because they couldn't tell if she was breathing properly.

It was why every night since he'd started working at the shelter he had taken a shower before doing anything else. It was why their water bill had gone up so much since they had found out about this allergy of hers.

"It's just a pill Lor, it's not like I have to get shots or..." she shrugged, as if to indicate anything more invasive than a simple pill.

He brought his hands in front of his mouth like a prayer, looking her in the eyes, "How many times do I have to explain to you that if you take one type of medicine every day, after a while your body no longer perceives it as an extra foreign thing to help you, but as the norm and so it no longer has any effect?"

Elide grimaced, "I hate you."

He chuckled, walking backwards until he reached the bathroom door, just in case she had the great idea to ambush him and jump on his back, "Just wait five minutes."

"It was three before," she said frowning, "And, speaking of showers-" and then she did something that made Lorcan freeze in his tracks. He didn't register what was going on until Elide's shirt was too high up for him to avoid seeing everything. And by everything, he meant everything.

"Elide what the fuck are you doing?!" he turned around, screaming, then his eyes went wide, trying to figure out if what had just happened was true or not. He squeezed his eyes shut, closing his hands into fists, biting his knuckles, "You're not wearing a fucking bra." he said in a voice sharper than he had intended.

He heard her giggle, but the sound came out muffled, "Loorcaaan." she crooned, "Help."

"I can't turn around Ellie, you're naked," he pointed out to her with his eyes still closed, then in a lower voice, "God, you're naked. What has gotten into you?"

He felt her move as she walked around him and stopped in front of him, "Help." she said in a flat tone. Lorcan had to laugh, her tone reminded him so much of the way the green aliens in Toy Story talked.

"Help what?" he asked letting out an amused laugh.

"I'm stuck." she said slurring her words and he felt her move, she was probably wiggling to get out of her t-shirt. And if she was wiggling, that meant her-

Lorcan took a sharp breath, cursing under his breath and trying to quiet his wandering mind.

He arched an eyebrow, though he was pretty sure she couldn't see him either, as doubt crept into him, "Are you drunk?"

Elide was silent for a while, then giggled like a child, "Just a little tipsy."

"Ellie it's seven o'clock," he exclaimed amused, but surprised to learn that she had been drinking, "why on earth are you drunk at seven?"

"Just a little tipsy," she repeated like a broken record. Then she screeched like a pterodactyl and Lorcan burst out laughing again, turning and taking a step or two forward to avoid risking accidentally touching her once more.

"Alright, why are you just a little tipsy at seven o'clock on a night when we're supposed to be going out with the others?" he asked now a little more eager to know the answer.

He heard her snort audibly, "The world is ending, Lorcan, why won't you understand that?"

He opened his eyes wide, not believing what she was saying, pinning them on the picture their friends had given them for Christmas, the one with all their best pictures collaged on a coloured canvas.

And here he thought he was the dramatic one of the two.

He nodded to himself, "So you're telling me that the reason you decided to get drunk before you even went out is because of global warming?"

He heard a rustle and then something hit him on the head, "Sorry, I didn't mean to slap you," she said in the tone of someone who couldn't care less about having hit him, "Anyway, yeah. Global warming and forests catching fire and animals dying and plastic burning..." she took a deep breath and then continued for a few minutes, making a list of all the things she had learned that afternoon by reading all the articles she could find about why humans were the worst living thing in the world.

Lorcan stood patiently listening to her, occasionally getting lost when she introduced topics that were a little too specific, but listen to her he did. The way she was saying all those things was always reminiscent of the little green aliens, but he knew the subject was more serious than it sounded.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he didn't think he'd moved too much, but at one point Elide sneezed and he cursed himself for not having moved fast enough to go to the bathroom.

"I told you you'd get allergies."

"But I didn't even touch you," she squealed back.

"You know that's not necessary for even your soul to start itching too," he scolded her.

Elide remained silent for a while longer, then started talking again, "And we should seriously get some glass bottles, if I see you with those stupid plastic bottles again I'll kill you. Scout's honor." she threatened him.

Lorcan chuckled, "Elide you've never been in scouts."

"How punctilious of you." she scoffed at him, then gasped, "We could buy matching flasks, with glitter and," she gasped again, sounding increasingly excited, "We could have one of our pictures printed on it."

A smile broke out on Lorcan's lips and he knew that if he had looked in the mirror at that moment he would have seen the face of a boy lost in love. He pulled himself together, straightening his back, trying not to think about how he felt about Elide. It wouldn't have done any good to admit that those feelings were real and tangible inside him.

He was staring at Fenrys' face in one of the pictures they had taken on holiday that summer, when Elide spoke again.

"This is a list of things that should make you understand why we have to shower together."

Lorcan choked on his saliva. He coughed a few times, patting his chest.

How had they gone from polar bears dying from melting ice to them showering together?

"What are you talking about?" he asked her in a squeaky voice.

The fact that she was alluding to them showering together while he knew she was half naked behind him, a breath away practically, made him feel so many different kinds of wrong.

"We can't waste water Lor, it's not hard." she sounded exasperated, then muttered, "Sometimes I really think you're being obtuse or stupid."

Lorcan's eyes went wide, "Wow, thanks Ellie."

"You're welcome." she chipped.

He shook his head, sighing and running a hand over his face, "Don't you think there are plenty of other ways we can start saving the world, before we have to shower together?" he took the fact that she wasn't answering as a cue to continue, "Like start recycling?"

Elide gasped again, making him chuckle, "Did you sign the petition?"

"Which-" he trailed off. She was talking about the petition to have a door-to-door rubbish collection service introduced in their town. Something that would force everyone to sort their garbage. "Yes, I signed it."

"Good." she whispered.

"I signed them all," he reiterated, because it was true and he knew that Elide never sent him stupid petitions, that whatever she sent him must be important and it didn't cost him anything to put his email and name on a website if it meant he could make a difference in his own small way.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." she said in a weak voice.

Lorcan felt strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

And not because of the fact that Elide was naked behind him and had just confessed to wanting to shower with him, but because he would have wanted to turn around and kiss her, not do what any other guy would have thought of doing with a half-naked girl. No. Lorcan just wanted to kiss her and take his time in the process, savour the kiss and not be hasty and quick.

He wanted it to be slow and heartfelt, he wanted her to feel every single thing he couldn't say out loud.

"Lorcan?" she whispered, "I'm always stuck and I'm starting to get cold."

He blinked, "Yeah, you're right." then interrupted. They were silent a few seconds, "You really can't pull your shirt down?"

"No."

He took a deep breath. Then another.

"Okay, I'm going to turn around and keep my eyes closed, please stay still so I don't touch- anything. I'm not touching anything. I'll try to help you." he stammered, clasping his hands along his sides. She made a simple grunt of assent and he huffed, raising his hands in the air and lowering them slowly until he touched her head. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and then released the elbow that had gotten stuck in her shirt.

"Yay." exclaimed Elide.

Sensing that she was moving freely on her own, Lorcan pulled away again and when the sound of clothes stopped, he asked, "Are you done?"

"Yes," she said singing.

His shoulder sagged a little and he smiled. He opened his eyes, ready to move Elide to the side and go take that holy shower, but whatever he'd thought when he'd asked if she was done must have been the exact opposite of what she'd thought, because Elide's tits were freer than ever between the two of them.

Lorcan grunted, slapping a hand over his face to cover his eyes, "What the fuck, Ellie. Stop flashing me, I'm begging you."

He heard her giggle and then a gust of wind and her laughter fading down the corridor let him know she had run off. He opened his eyes tentatively, peering through his fingers to make sure she wasn't still in front of him and sighed with relief when he finally managed to get into the bathroom and lock the door behind him.

He leaned against the sink, clutching the ceramic between his fingers and staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He never thought the first time he would see Elide's tits would be under these circumstances. He ran a hand over his face again, trying to somehow erase the image he knew he would never forget.

He had just stepped into the shower when he heard something very large and heavy slam against the door. Something that seconds later burst out laughing. Lorcan could only follow as he imagined a half-naked Elide running towards the bathroom and failing to stop in time.

"Are you alright, honey?" he asked her just in case. He turned on the water, hissing when he found it frozen, but not moving from under the jet. After all, a cold shower wouldn't hurt him.

"Let me in." she shouted, slamming her fist against the door, "Let me iiin!"

"Are you dressed?"

"No."

"Then you can't come in."

A scream of despair followed by what could only be a fake hysterical cry made him burst out laughing again, but then for a few minutes all that was heard was the sound of the shower and water falling from his hair.  

"Ellie, are you still there?"

The answer came quickly, "Yes."

"Are you still naked?"

"Maybe." then he heard her move against the door and realised she'd been sitting on the floor.

Perfect, he was stuck in there. He reached for the phone and thought of something.

As he finished untangling the knots in his hair and washing out the conditioner, Elide was talking about how harmful the soaps they used were and had even gone so far as to say that they should both shave their heads so as to minimise their impact on the environment.

"What did you do today?" she asked him suddenly.

Lorcan didn't answer, dialling the number of a certain blonde girl who could help him out of this situation. Aelin answered after the fifth ring and Lorcan knew full well that she had done it on purpose, hoping he would hang up so she wouldn't have to talk to him.

"Hello?"

"Listen, something kind of weird happened and I need-"

"Who is this?" Lorcan arched an eyebrow, pulling his ear away from the phone to check the number. It was Aelin's phone. And the chick's voice on the other end was her, he was sure of it. "God, Lorcan, I'm fucking with you, what's up?"

"Funny," he deadpanned, "Elide's already drunk."

"What? But it's not even eight o'clock."

"I know, I came home and she was already like that."

A few moments of silence passed, "Okay, and what do you want me to do?"

"Well, she took her shirt off at one point."

Lorcan waited for a reaction, but Aelin didn't respond.

"And now she's naked in the hallway and blocking the bathroom door and-"

"She's what?" the friend burst out laughing.

"She's naked," he gritted through his teeth, "And she's blocking the bathroom door. I don't know how to get out and I don't want to open the door and push her off and risk hurting her. Is there any way you could come over here and help her? Help me?"

"I’ll make sure she'll never hear the end of it." Aelin laughed louder and Lorcan heard Rowan ask her what was going on. The blonde took breaths before saying, "Ellie flashed Lorcan and how he's stuck in the bathroom because he's afraid of a pair of nice-looking boobies."

"So are you planning on coming?" he asked before he completely lost his patience.

He imagined her wiping tears from under her eyes, "Yes, we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"We?"

"Me, Ro and Fen. He's the one driving tonight and he picked us up."

"Okay," Lorcan murmured, "but they can't come up to the house."

"Why?" drawled Aelin, "Because you're jealous?"

He counted to ten, restraining himself from hanging up on her, "No, because this is going to be humiliating enough for Elide without two more of her friends seeing her half naked, so please just come up alone."

Aelin huffed, "You're right, but you're no fun."

They said their goodbyes and Lorcan put the phone down, starting to blow dry his hair.

"Lorcan."

"Lorcan."

"Lorcan."

Elide hadn't stopped saying his name for half a second throughout the call and it was starting to annoy him. Then he shook his head, no. He wasn't annoyed by Elide, it was Aelin.

That girl could get under his skin like few could.

"What?"

"You didn't tell me what you did today."

And Lorcan did, so that at least she would stop slamming her hand against the door.

He told her about the last man who'd come to see what dogs he could give his daughter and how he'd seemed so much like the guy who'd abandoned them on the side of the road after not even a week and it had pissed him off. He told her the morning had been even worse, because one of the children had started opening all the toys on display and his mother, who had been right next to him the whole time with her eyes fixed on the phone screen, hadn't stopped him and it had been up to Lorcan to tell him he couldn't do it. It was only then that the woman had realised what a mess it was and had simply apologised to him, running out of the shop so fast that he hadn't even noticed they had left. He had to call his manager and he was not exactly pleased to hear this story, but he also said that they would donate the toys to the church down the street, which was responsible for distributing them to kindergartens in the neighbourhood. That cheered him up a little.

By the time he had finished his story, Aelin had arrived and once he had taken her to her room. Lorcan could finally go out and get ready himself.

***

It was after midnight, the entire group was rocking out on the dance floor of their favorite outdoor club, a place called "The Wild Night" that was on the edge of town, closer to the forest than anything else, and normally Lorcan would have joined his friends to dance and sing, but there was a problem.

A big, huge, handsome problem.

And the problem was called Kyllian.

He couldn't figure out whose idea it had been to invite the boy with them that night, but whoever it was, this person's days were numbered, because Lorcan would kill them first and then use the limbs of their corpse to kill Kyllian.

Kyllian who had now been rubbing up against Elide for hours and who had offered her more drinks than stupid charming grins - and he really was reserving a lot of those for her.

"If you don't stop looking at him like that you're going to make his head explode," someone said, throwing themselves onto the small bench next to him.

He turned his head so fast he wondered how he had managed not to break his neck, "What are you talking about?"

Fenrys arched an eyebrow, "Even if you weren't staring at Kyllian like you wanted to see him disappear off the face of the earth, everyone here, including Elide," he told him with so much as a glare, giving him a slight shove, "would know that you're not really into what's going on on that dance floor."

"He's right," Rowan said to his left, sipping the drink of Aelin's she'd left him. When the hell had he sat there?

Lorcan didn't answer, remaining motionless with his sullen expression.

"I can give you a hand if you want," Fenrys murmured, sucking on the fuchsia straw sticking out of his equally pink glass.

He inhaled through his nose, "And how would you do that?"

"You have to trust me."

"Never." said Lorcan as Rowan said at the same time, "Don't."

Fenrys looked at them both with his mouth wide open and a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt." then finished what was left of the drink in one gulp and stood up abruptly, staggering a little, but holding himself up nonetheless. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the two boys still sitting, grinning, and Lorcan knew immediately what was going to happen.

"Ellie!" he shouted, turning more heads than necessary, "Love of my life!"

Kyllian pulled away from Ellie just enough for Fenrys to grab her hand and spin her around a few times until she burst out laughing and begged him to stop. The new boy didn't even seem to exist anymore as his best friend laced her arms around Fenrys' hips and rocked left and right, increasingly drunk.

Lorcan's heart clenched in his chest as he heard that sound so carefree, so happy.

He didn't realise he was smiling until Rowan cackled beside him, "God, you're fucked."

He didn't pay any attention to him and stood up, keeping his gaze fixed on her face.

He heard Lysandra and Aelin calling his name, hyping him up and threw them a real, quick smile that made them scream even louder, as if they were fans at one of his concerts. When he finally reached Fenrys and Elide's side, the blond spun her around ninety degrees and for a moment she closed her eyes, giggling, intoxicated by the amount of alcohol she had ingested, but when she opened them again and saw Lorcan standing in front of her, a smile as wide as he had ever seen it spread across her face.

"I'll leave you Ellie, you're in good hands," Fenrys told her, winking at him from above her head.

But neither of them even looked at him.

His eyes locked into hers as they both took a step forward and found themselves a caress away. Her chest rose and fell in an agitated rhythm. After all, she'd been dancing with everyone for hours, so much so that Lorcan wondered how she hadn't thrown up yet.

His gaze ran over her body, her bare shoulders, the line of her collarbones, and further down between her breasts. Breasts he'd had the chance to see for a millisecond a few hours before and remembered perfectly. The darker shade of pink that had characterized her-

"Lorcan."

He felt his heart pounding in his throat.

She had never said his name like that.

His eyes went up, sliding over lips so full, so perfect, up, over her nose and then up again, finding hers and the music changed, becoming slower, the lights dimmed as the strobes were turned off. Elide seemed to recognise the tune as her lips parted slightly, "Lor," she repeated. He raised a hand until his knuckles brushed her cheek and when she let go a shuddering breath, Lorcan began to sing under his breath.

"Tell me everything and hold no lies. Say you're waiting for better skies," he leaned forward as his other hand slid to her hip and Elide moved closer, until their bodies were fully joined to each other and one of her legs was between his and their hips were one thing moving in sync with the music. He felt Elide's breath against his neck and had to suppress a shudder when she too began to sing along with him.

"Oh, but honey don't taste like summer no more. Stick around now, I miss you every night,"

He lowered his head even more, brushing her nose with his own. The hand that had been on her cheek had slipped over her shoulder and was now tracing the path down her back, grazing the top of her bottom until it rested on her hip.

"Elide," he whispered, breathing on her lips. She closed her eyes, pushing herself up, towards him, and Lorcan held her tighter, moving his fingers over the exposed skin between her miniskirt and the black top she was wearing and there he was. Elide was there, with him, and she was so close to his body that he could feel the heart beating in her chest.

She was there and the next second... she wasn't. Because Elide had snapped away and was now vomiting on his feet. Lorcan held his breath as she was shaken by another gag and he had just enough time to take a step back that she threw up again.

The people around them quickly scampered away, creating a small circle of spectators and casting a quick glance at his friends he saw that they had a large audience. He just hoped Elide was too drunk to remember what happened the next day.

He looked down and grimaced, all sorts of emotions swirling inside him as the girl he loved clutched at him and puked her dinner all over his clothes.

He cursed at whoever decided how things went for breaking the best moment of his life with vomit and then gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, tying it with an elastic band he kept on his wrist specifically for these occasions.

He heard her whimper and put both hands on her shoulders, stroking her in circular motions to help her warm up. Aelin and Lysandra appeared next to them shortly after and when Ellie was firm enough on her feet to walk, they stepped over the pool of vomit and Lorcan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing her towards the exit.

"Let's go home, Ellie."

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send an ask)

@tottenhamboys20 @maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @anne-reads @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @simping4bookboisngrls @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @miserablemusings @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass​

#elorcan #tog fic #throne of glass #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan roommates au #fluff #elorcan fluff #elorcan fic #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #aelin galathynius #honey

[kandoesfanfics-writes]

A Song Your Soul(mate) Sings

This is my Maribat Secret Santa for @my-northern-downpour. I hope you enjoy it! This is a soulmate!au based off of a trend on TikTok in which soulmates can hear each other when they sing. I extended this to include humming as well.

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

The room was dark by the time he returned to his bed.

It was sparsely decorated, the six-year old boy not wanting much for potential enemies to use to conceal themselves. His eyes scanned the shadows, watching for the slightest movement, trying to see if there was anyone currently in the room. Seeing nothing that tickled his fight or flight instincts, he cautiously walked into the room before locking it behind him. He quietly barricaded himself in the room before walking over to his meager bed. 

His body ached as he laid down to sleep. 

Where there was not gauze or bandages was dark skin decorated with purples and blues of varying colors. The pain was a dull throb in his limbs as compared to the sharp pains in his joints. His stomach ached from the punishing training he'd been put through earlier that day. He hadn't wanted to train, but his mother had smacked him and told him to be grateful that he was chosen as heir.

"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche, voilà le portrait sans retouche, de l'homme auquel j'appartiens…"

The joyful echoes in his head began again, right on time. The echo sounded child-like, like the singer was someone his age. The echo sounded feminine, and he wondered why such a feminine voice would be echoing in his ears. He wasn't a girl after all so why did it sound like a girl? Why couldn’t he talk to that echo either? He could always have conversations with himself, but the feminine voice never answered him.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu'il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose, Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m'fait quelque chose…"

It wasn't in a language he knew either. So far Mother had only taught him Arabic and English. The strange foreign vowel sounds and unfamiliar words made no sense to the little boy. Why was he hearing a voice speaking in a strange tongue?

And was he the only one?

Mother and Grandfather had never talked about hearing strange voices in their heads. Neither had any of the others the little boy had met. If they heard the voices too, wouldn't they have talked about them? Why would Mother and Grandfather hide the knowledge from him… unless they didn't share the same experiences.

The little boy did not fear the voice, but he vowed never to speak of it. While he did not believe the voice was a threat, he did not wish to be seen as defective. He saw what had happened to those deemed unworthy of his Grandfather's presence. He did not wish to die…or worse, go through painful procedures to get rid of the voice in his head.

"Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause, c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie, et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat…"

As he curled into a ball, his daggers close at hand, he listened to the cheerful voice. He listened to the way the strange words would roll, and occasionally stutter, through his mind. It wasn’t terrible...if he had to be honest, it was rather relaxing. The sound was more often than not soft and gentle sounding compared to the harsh orders barked at him daily. Sometimes the voice had giggles and laughter interrupting the words, sending a strange warmth through him. He could feel himself relaxing enough to sleep, but he forced his green eyes to stay open as he wanted to hear more.

“Des nuits d’amour à plus finir, un grand bonheur qui prend sa place, les ennuis, les chagrins s’effacent, heureux, heureux à en mourir…”

He could feel sleep overtake him as he listened to the happy voice, glad that at least one thing in his life radiated warmth and was not tinged with fear.

He hoped Mother and Grandfather never found out.

Damian didn’t want the voice to go away.

————————

“Why do you keep singin’ if you can’t hear them, Mari?” a dark skinned boy asked, picking apart the sandwich his mother made him.

“Because Maman explained that some people can’t sing, Nino!” a little girl with paler skin responded. “Maman said that sometimes people are born without the ability to talk, or they get hurt real bad and can’t talk no more. She also said that sometimes people have a hard time hearing or can’t hear at all, so they learn FSL instead of talking with their mouth! What if my soulmate is like that? They’d be real lonely if I didn’t sing to ‘em!”

The little boy adjusted the small red cap on top of his head and said, “I guess that makes sense.”

The little girl nodded, her bob swinging a little with the force of her movements. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her best friend, Nino Lahiffe, were sitting in her parents bakery, enjoying lunch. Nino was picking apart his food, not feeling very hungry after Chloe Bourgeois called him chubby. Despite Marinette telling Nino he wasn’t chubby, the little boy seemed to be down in the dumps. Marinette had tried to cheer him up by asking about the song he could hear his soulmate singing as Nino was very excited that he was hearing his soulmate more often now.

That had brought them to the conversation of Marinette’s soulmate...who she had never heard before.

Marinette knew her friend wasn’t trying to be mean by asking about it, and that he was worried about her. It wasn’t common that soulmates couldn’t hear one another’s voices so long as both people were alive. If one couldn’t hear their soulmates voice it could mean that they might have died, that they hadn’t been born yet, or that the person didn’t have one. There were also instances where both soulmates were still alive and still couldn’t sing to one another, and that was the type Marinette’s mother had just recently explained to her— people who were unable to verbally communicate due to either issues with hearing or speaking verbally.

Marinette was nibbling on her sandwich too, secretly trying to reassure herself as well.

After all, Chloe liked to tease her that she didn’t have a soulmate. 

Marinette shook her head, kicking her feet back and forth. No! Stupid Chloe was wrong! She did have a soulmate! They just couldn’t sing to her right now! Maybe they couldn’t sing at all, but that didn’t matter! As long as she kept singing, they would eventually find her voice...wouldn’t they?

“Hey Mari, do you wanna go to the park?” Nino asked, interrupting her train of thought. “I got a new football. It’s in my bag.”

Marinette smiled brightly, adjusting the straps on her pink overalls before saying, “Prepare to lose, Nino!”

The little girl jumped out of her seat and raced towards his backpack, the little boy following after her. Neither child noticed the dark haired woman watching them with a soft, sad smile. Her near silver eyes shone with love and concern as she watched her daughter go off to play with her best friend. She looked so happy...and Sabine desperately hoped she would stay like that.

———————-

...things at his father’s house were strange.

His rules were confusing.

No killing. None. In fact, Damian got into more trouble killing while with his father. It just didn’t make any sense to him! Hadn’t Mother told Father anything?! Hadn’t Mother told Father that he was going to be heir of both the cowl and the League of Assassins? He had to know how to kill in order to do that! He had to keep up with his skills to be able to maintain and grow to surpass anyone who would challenge him!

But Father told him that he didn’t want Damian to do any of that.

He told Damian that he wanted different things for him than his mother did.

And that confused him.

The other thing that confused him was his place in his father’s house.

With his mother and his grandfather, the dark haired ten-year old’s position was always clear. He was to be the Heir to the League of Assassins. He was to be stronger, sharper, quicker, and more deadly than anyone else in the League. He was constantly being tested by Mother and Grandfather too. He knew that if he did not perform to their standards then a punishment was in order...and they never let Damian forget how replaceable he truly was at the end of the day. 

He might be considered more important than the other League members, but he had to continuously earn that position.

Richard Grayson didn’t seem interested in fighting him for the cowl...at all. In fact, the young man seemed to want to get to know Damian. He seemed to get over his annoyance at the younger boy’s appearance rather quickly, and he’d started getting into Damian’s space. He asked him questions, trying to learn more about the newcomer. He didn’t appear to be threatened by Damian very much either, which irritated the aforementioned boy severely.

Dick was quick to suss out Damian’s boundaries, and while he’d ultimately respect them, he was also quick to push them too. His excuse was that Damian needed to act like other ten year old boys, and his father had agreed. While Damian had at first hated it...he had to admit he’d grown fond of Grayson, as the second Damian began to feel anxious, the older one would cease his pushing.

Dick was...well he was an older brother, through and through. He loved Damian, but he wasn’t afraid to try and kick the younger boy’s ass either. Damian appreciated someone who could see he had skill but wasn’t scared off by it. Dick was insistent in getting Damian to learn more about ‘normal’ kid stuff. Dick was the one showing him kids’ movies, loudly singing along to the lyrics, making their father groan.

Tim...Tim still wasn’t okay with Damian. Damian wasn’t okay with Tim either. Damian was more willing to overlook Dick as he was his own superhero— Nightwing. Tim was Robin. Tim was the one who had his role, according to his mother. Tim was the one he was supposed to show he was superior too. Tim was the one he had to get rid of.

But that had made father and Dick extremely angry.

Tim fought valiantly for his position, which Damian respected, but he also seemed to be sticking to Father’s no kill rule. It was clear that Father trusted Tim much more than he trusted Damian. Tim was still with the family. Tim hadn’t been replaced by him. Tim still hung out with Dick, though he did it less when Damian was around. Tim also clearly had Dick’s trust as well, while Damian was still on thin ice.

The younger boy couldn’t explain why that upset him so much, but it did.

As Dick had explained it to him, and Alfred re-explained, ranks were based purely on seniority. Alfred was in charge of Bruce, and Bruce was in charge of them. Dick was the next in line because he was the oldest, then Tim, and then Damian. There wasn’t any fighting in order to gain the upper rank...and despite Damian being on the bottom, he was treated with just as much respect as a living person deserved.

He was allowed to point out holes in plans. He was allowed to talk during meetings. He was allowed to offer his opinion. He was allowed to fight with them...he was allowed to fight without fearing death.

For the first time in Damian’s short life...he was allowed to do things without the risk of death constantly hanging over his head. The most his father would do is bench him from patrols, stop him from training, and put him under house arrest. All of these punishments were preferable to the ones his mother would come up with, and he felt so much better about that.

He was freer to be himself here than he ever had been with his mother.

“Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right. Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right!”

Damian looked up from his oatmeal, grimacing at his elder ‘brother’ as said man skidded into the kitchen in a tee-shirt, boxers, and his socks.

It had been an entire year since his mother had left him with his father. He was eleven years old now, and he’d told his mother that he was staying with his father. He had thought he’d grow used to his ‘brothers’ antics, but it appeared that there was one thing he still wasn’t used to— Dick’s insistence that he break out in a random musical number anytime he felt like it…

“GRAYSON, would you please shut up! Tt, it’s too early for this nonsense!” the green-eyed boy said with a scowl. “Alfred, please tell him that he’s much too noisy.”

“No can do, lil’ D! I have to let my soulmate know I’m a-okay! And the only way to do that is sing!” Dick said happily. “Good morning, Alfred!”

The elderly man shook his head in fond annoyance before saying, “Good morning, Master Dick. If you eat cereal, please leave some left for Master Tim. That boy hasn’t been eating much, but I have been getting him to eat cereal...and do lower your volume, Master Dick.”

“...what the, and I can’t emphasize this enough, fuck are you talking about, Grayson? Where did you hear such nonsense?”

The kitchen fell silent as both Dick and Alfred looked at Damian in shock. Alfred hadn’t even corrected Damian for cursing, both men clearly fighting back and array of emotions. Dick appeared to recover first. His inquisitive blue eyes focused on Damian before he took a deep breath.

“Dames...you know what soulmates are right?” Dick asked slowly.

“What kind of asinine—”

“Master Damian, have you ever heard a voice in your head?”

Damian froze like a rabbit that had just spotted a predator. Despite the boy’s training, Alfred could see it in his microexpressions that the child was afraid. It looked like he had no idea how to answer the question, so the old butler took pity on him and continued.

“This voice...or echo doesn’t sound like it belongs to you. It sounds like someone else...someone you may not know. It could be in another language, possibly, or it could take form in the sound of humming—”

“Almost everyone has one, Lil’ D...” Dick interrupted, his expression twisted with worry. “My soulmate sings back to me after I sing to him.”

The green-eyed boy’s jaw dropped, looking back and forth between Alfred and Dick in an alarmingly vulnerable way. Dick was about to go get Bruce before Damian let out the softest sound of shock and surprise he’d ever heard. He had to strain to hear what Damian said to Alfred next, hating how small and weak the proud boy sounded.

“I’m...I’m not crazy? She— she’s real?”

“Talia never told you about soulmates, did she?” Alfred said, taking the available seat next to Damian. “Of course you're not crazy, Master Damian. This is completely normal.”

Damian shook his head, looking anxiously at the butler and Dick. He thought the voice was just in his head! She was a real person? She was singing to him? Was he supposed to be singing back? Why could he hear her? Why him?

“Why we don’t explain what soulmates are first,” Alfred said softly. “A soulmate is someone whose soul compliments yours. You are whole as you are, Damian, but a soulmate is someone whose personality will compliment yours. They are the one person in the world who has the chance to know you as well as you know yourself. They’re a blessing to have, not a weakness to exploit.”

“In order to be able to find our soulmates, we have an almost telepathic connection of sorts. When our soulmates sing, we will be able to hear them in our heads. The same goes for when you sing. She’ll be able to hear you,” Dick added. “You will be able to find your soulmate through their singing. You’ll know when you’ve met her...Lil’ D...does your soulmate still sing to you?”

“Everyday...though the time has changed since I got to the states. I’m assuming she’s European due to the timezone difference and what I believe is a Latin-based language,” Damian mumbled, twiddling his thumbs. “Is that good?”

“That’s excellent, Lil’ D. It means she hasn’t given up on you,” Dick said with a grin. “So don’t keep her waiting anymore, okay?”

“Mother and Grandfather never talked about—is it safe? I assumed I was crazy because they never spoke of soulmates and neither did anyone else. I thought—”

“You’re not crazy, Master Damian,” Alfred said, this time firmer. “You are just like any other young man with a soulmate. You hear her voice when she sings to you, and you enjoy it, don’t you?”

“...it is a nice song…very pretty…”

“They probably saw their soulmates as weaknesses to their plans, but what they failed to realize is that soulmates are sources of strength as well. Do not be afraid to answer her now, Master Damian. She’s probably been waiting quite a while to hear your voice.”

Damian still felt like he was going to throw up, but he nodded. He was still tense as a freshly tightened spring as he watched Dick return to his breakfast. The older man started humming a tune that Damian recognized was a song from the movie they’d just watched the night before.

“Dick...what’s the name of that song? The one you’re humming from the movie last night?” he asked, trying to control his voice.

Dick raised an eyebrow, surprised by the use of his first name. He calmly told Damian that he was humming ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ as performed by Elton John. He said nothing further as he watched Damian make a beeline towards the door, clearly not wanting to speak anymore on the subject, and abandoning his oatmeal. He looked towards Alfred to see if he should bring him back to at least finish breakfast, but the butler shook his head.

“Let Master Damian go. This must be overwhelming for him as well as slightly invasive. Let him process.”

Little did Alfred know that Damian had already accepted that the voice was in his head. He had already accepted the voice that lulled him to sleep as a piece of him that he’d protect willingly and viciously. The only change was that he now understood why he was so keen on protecting the intruder in his head.

He wasn’t crazy.

She was real.

That song was real.

Everything she ever sang to him was real.

Damian wasn’t broken.

She was real.

———————

The last thing Sabine Cheng expected was for her daughter to be awake at seven thirty am, no matter how early she and her husband got up.

Her sweet little Marinette had never been a morning person, always sleeping in and making herself late. Sabine had tried to break her daughter of the habit, but she was just as stubborn as her father. Now Sabine simply tried to mitigate how late her daughter got up so that she wouldn’t be as late to things.

She’d gone to wake her daughter up as she had errands to run. Sabine needed Marinette to come with her to help carry some of the items they were picking up for her mother-in-law’s birthday while Tom worked the store. Neither parent expected the shriek that came from their daughter’s room.

Nor the disheveled state she came nearly crashing down in.

“MAMAN! PAPA!” Marinette shrieked, her hair half-in, half-out of her braid. “HE SANG! MAMAN, HE’S THERE! PAPA, MY SOULMATE ANSWERED ME!”

Marinette’s eyes were wide with shock as she spluttered, trying to get words out of her mouth. Her hands were flailing in every direction, trying desperately to articulate the words she couldn’t get out. She was still dressed in her pajamas, looking at her parents helplessly.

“Marinette! Marinette, you have to breathe, little dumpling,” Sabine said, grabbing her daughter’s hands. “Take a few deep breaths.”

Marinette took a deep breath, following her mother’s instructions of in and out. As soon as she had stopped practically vibrating out of her skin, Marinette grabbed her mother’s arms and said, “He sang back, Maman. He was so shy and stuttered a lot, but he sang back. He answered me!”

Tom looked absolutely relieved, his posture relaxing slightly. He had been worried about Marinette’s soulmate never singing back, and how that would affect Marinette. They knew that she’d been bullied by the mayor’s daughter for never hearing her soulmate sing, and they knew how bad that had made her feel. Tom then stiffened back up when he realized that Marinette’s soulmate sang back, and now someone would be trying to find his little girl.

Sabine couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her husband. Their daughter was only eleven, so she doubted that someone was just going to come and steal her away! However, she was very excited for her daughter. She kissed Marinette on the forehead before saying, “That’s amazing, little dumpling. You go get changed, and you can tell me about it while we walk to the store.”

Marinette nodded eagerly before pausing.

“Maman? Do you think we could get some English books? To help me practice and learn? I’m pretty sure my soulmate sang in English,” the dark haired girl said, biting the tip of her thumb.

Tom looked at his wife, waiting for her to give the nod of approval, before telling Marinette that of course she could get some English studying material. While Tom was apprehensive of the soulmate that just started singing (why hadn’t he sang before?), he wanted nothing more than his little girl to be happy. He kissed his wife on the cheek before walking back into the kitchen, continuing to work on the pastries.

Marinette couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she raced back up to her room. 

Her soulmate sang back to her!

She bounced over to her mirror, picking up her hair brush. She pulled out her hair tie, allowing the braid to fall apart completely. As she began to brush her hair, she picked up where her song had left off before her soulmate had tried to sing back.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose, il me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose, il est entré dans mon coeur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause, c’est toi pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, il me l’a dit, i’a juré pour la vie,” she sang, carefully braiding her hair.

She paused for a moment, waiting to see if he would try singing again.

Her soulmate sounded male, but it was hard for her to hear him. He sounded uncertain and shy as he stumbled across his words. Then he sounded a little bit upset before changing to humming a tune she was familiar with. He was humming “La Vie en Rose” which was a song Marinette sang very often, and that was another reason she believed he wasn’t French. He clearly knew the tune, but didn’t seem confident to say the words.

A familiar tune timidly filled her head, soft and sleepy.  She felt affection well up in her chest as he continued to hum “La Vie en Rose” to her. Marinette could tell he’d been listening to her every time she sung him that song. He hummed every note perfectly until his voice began to drift off. Marinette wondered for a moment if that means he’d fallen asleep.

She finished getting dressed quickly after that, throwing on her pink sundress and black ballet flats. Blue-grey eyes sparkling with joy and excitement, Marinette practically ran down the stairs, causing her papa to call out to her to be more careful. She told her papa she would as she skipped over towards her mother.

She couldn’t wait to tell her mother about her soulmate humming her song back to her.

——————

It wasn’t until Damian was almost seventeen that he felt comfortable enough actually singing to his soulmate.

At first, he’d attempted a clumsy rendition of ��Can You Feel the Love Tonight”. He hadn’t been able to remember the words properly, so he’d gotten frustrated and embarrassed. She had been able to hear him messing up! He already hadn’t been singing back to her for years, and now his first attempts were pathetic! He had been worried about how she’d respond to him finally returning her songs, but he’d then begun to worry about what she thought about him screwing it up entirely!

Instead of giving up though, he had decided to hum her song back to her. He knew every note of that song, despite not knowing the words or the name to the song. He had hummed until she answered him back with her own bright cheerful song. She had sung the words, strange and unfamiliar to him, while he hummed the melody, creating the most beautiful sound Damian could have sworn he’d ever heard.

Her voice had sounded even brighter than before, and Damian could tell she was happy. After the first day, he’d noticed an uptick in his soulmate’s humming and singing. The more he’d returned her humming with his own, the happier her voice had sounded. It had warmed his chest in an inexplicable way...almost as if he’d missed her without ever meeting her until he hummed back.

Damian had reached the point where he could easily recall all of the words to Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”, but he’d only hummed it to her. He hadn’t felt confident enough to attempt to sing it out loud again, but he was getting there in small steps. He’d been working on it, speaking the words out loud to ensure he remembered them as to not have a repeat of his first attempt. He had begun singing little bits and pieces to the song, which seemed to get the interest of his soulmate. He had fallen even faster for her when she began to show him what she’d been working on.

Singing in English.

Despite her difficulties, his soulmate had continued to try and sing to him in what she probably assumed was his native tongue. She had learned another language for him! She had learned one of the most difficult languages to learn (the grammar rules could be absolutely atrocious, and Damian hated it) just so he could understand her singing.

The least he could do was actually sing for her.

Especially since his soulmate had grown more somber and sad in the past few years.

Her songs seemed to have changed from the light-hearted melodies about love and life to heavier music, in both genre and topics. She’d never stopped singing the song he’d come to know as “La Vie en Rose” though. It appeared that she only sang it for him now because her voice was always quiet, almost like a whisper as she sang. Some nights she only sang a few words or not at all, which worried Damian greatly. So, he did the only thing he could do.

He hummed to her even when she was silent or didn’t seem to want to sing much.

Damian began to hum to her like she’d sang to him all those days while he still lived with the League. She had dealt with his silence for years, never knowing if she had someone on the other end of her connection. Damian only realized how terrifying that was when she’d gone completely silent for a day, not singing anything at all. He could toughen it out and hum to her until she felt like she could sing again, but it only got worse.

She had begun to sing in the softest, saddest voice Damian had ever heard.

It broke his heart to know she was in pain.

Which led him to his current situation, standing in a busy Parisian patisserie with his father and brother, singing to his soulmate for the first time.

“There's a calm surrender, to the rush of day, when the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away. An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior, just to be with you,” he sang softly, ignoring the shocked looks of both Bruce and Tim. “And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer, that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight. How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.”

The small Asian woman behind the counter looked concerned until Tim apologized and kindly informed her that Damian had never actually sang to his soulmate before. The woman chuckled before telling Tim that he didn’t need to apologize, and that their order would be out soon. Tim nodded, paying the kind woman before Bruce guided them both off to the side to wait.

The dark haired boy ignored his brother’s insistent questions, listening for her voice. She was still quiet, having stopped singing the previous song that had gotten Damian so concerned to begin with. He continued to sing, wanting his soulmate to know that even if it felt like no one else did, he cared about her. 

He’d have to thank Dick later for his annoying pop music obsession, or he’d never have recognized Sia’s song “Breathe Me”.

“There's a time for everyone, if they only learn. That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn. There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors. When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours,” he continued, ignoring all of the sounds going on around him.

Just as Damian was about to sing the next section, the patisserie door slammed open. A tiny girl(?) with pitch black hair that was falling loose around her face came racing in. He could see tear streaks down her face as if she’d just been crying. Her body posture was defensive. Her arms were crossed tightly against her chest, and her body was hunched over as if she were trying to make herself smaller.

A blond haired guy followed her into the building. He seemed out of breath with his face as flushed as it was. His green eyes reminded Damian of limes or acid, bright and loud. His entire demeanor displayed a nervousness as he tried to reach the girl, whose posture seemed to scream ‘I’m not okay’ the closer he got to her.

“Marinette, listen! It was just a joke! Alya said they didn’t mean it, and Lila already told the class to stop messing up your schedules,” the guy said. “Please, Marinette? Don’t be mad. You’re better than that.”

The young woman, Marinette, stopped dead in her tracks before turning around. With the more composure than Damian had thought she possessed, she simply said, “Adrien, I am allowed to be upset. They destroyed my planner, which had all the events for our class in it. As class president, I’m supposed to have all of those dates written down and available to anyone who needs them. I now have to remake the entire schedule on top of all my other responsibilities. Besides, real jokes don’t normally involve destroying someone’s personal property, now please leave me alone.”

Damian felt his heart drop into his stomach.

He knew that voice like he knew his katana.

He’d never be able to mistake the voice that had lulled him to sleep so many nights.

That was her voice.

He knew her.

“And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds, believe the very best,” Damian continued, needing to be certain it was her.

He watched the young woman’s arms fall to her sides, looking almost startled. Her eyes, which he now noticed were an enchanting slate blue color that reminded him of a storm, were now darting around. Her petal pink lips, which looked so soft, were agape which hinted towards her being alarmed by something. Her posture straightened up as she scanned the room again. Not finding what she was looking for apparently, she slowly began to sing, her eyes searching the room once more.

“Et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon coeur qui bat.”

Damian’s heart then decided to make a violent return to his chest as he could hear it pounding in his chest.

It was her.

Those were the last lines to “La Vie en Rose”.

It was her.

——————

Marinette, to say the least, had been having a couple rough years.

At the age of thirteen, she had been given the ladybug miraculous by the former Guardian and became the spotted heroine known as Ladybug.

At around the age of fourteen-fifteen, Lila Rossi had joined her class and the bullying began.

At the age of sixteen, she realized that she had less friends than she thought she did.

And now at the age of seventeen, Marinette was just done.

She hadn’t been able to locate Hawkmoth due to his increasing power, gaining Mayura as an accomplice, and her inability to keep a standard set of heroes. Some people had lost the privilege to wield the miraculous by breaking Marinette’s trust, and others had been compromised by Hawkmoth. This meant that everytime she needed assistance, she either had to combine the miraculous or give a rookie hero a crash course in superhero training.

Add to that Chat Noir’s endless attempts to flirt and get her to sing in front of him, and Marinette was ready to throw herself out a window. 

Being a superhero with little to no training had been hard enough, but now she was the Guardian of the box! Now not only did she have to worry about her Kwami, Tikki, she had to worry about all of them! She would also have to do this with absolutely no training as well except from what the kwamis could remember/tell her. 

And all of that didn’t take into account the Marinette part of her life either.

Her only solace had been her soulmate, who had slowly been learning how to sing. She had been surprised to hear attempts at singing, as he’d been humming almost consistently since his first attempt, but it made the ache in her chest feel lighter. Her soulmate clearly cared enough about her to try and overcome whatever had been stopping him from singing before, and it made her feel good. She had come to find the humming comforting, but she also found she enjoyed his voice while he sang too.

More grown up now, his voice was a deep baritone that settled into her bones and made her relax. She had found herself wishing she could talk to him more, wanting to hear words instead of humming. She had forced herself to be patient though. If her soulmate had had problems singing before, it was a possibility he’d only recently gained the capability to verbally speak. She didn’t want to be rude and push for more if that was the case.

Which was apparently something none of her classmates understood.

Marinette had walked into her classroom, only to find the planner she had painstakingly put together for the class in tatters on the floor. She’d left it for their teacher to use, as the teacher needed to add a few more dates in for school functions that had just gotten approved. She wished she could say she hadn’t been upset, but she was.

They’d stuck her with this thankless job, due to Lila not wanting to have to do anything, and this was how they repaid her?

She found it ridiculous that they were still bullying her over Adrien. Sure, she’d liked him when he’d first arrived. He was handsome and rather nice, and most girls had a crush on him. She knew he wasn’t her soulmate though. While he could speak perfect English (thanks to his aunt and cousin living in England, and his late uncle speaking mainly English), the time zone differences didn’t match up.

Her soulmate hummed at specific times, and Marinette had attributed that schedule to reflect their difference in time zones. If Adrien had been her soulmate, then the humming would have occurred around the same time Marinette was normally singing. Plus, she’d heard Adrien sing before when Nino had pressured him into doing it.

The click didn’t go off in her head and as a result, her crush slowly began to die out. She’d even explained to Alya the situation when she’d told her former best friend that she was giving up on dating Adrien. Alya knew that Adrien wasn’t her soulmate, so she didn’t want to waste her time on him.

So why had she joined Lila in bullying her?

Why had she conveniently forgotten that Marinette was completely over her crush and didn’t want to date him?

Why had she lied to Adrien about Marinette wanting to date her?

Most of all, why had Alya believed Lila over her?

Marinette hadn’t heard anyone apologizing to her when she raced out of the room, overwhelmed and upset. She was doing her damndest to control her emotions so that Hawkmoth couldn’t akumatize her, but she could still feel the tears hot on her cheeks. She ignored everything else, storming back towards the patisserie, considering telling her parents she’d thrown up on the way to school and decided to turn around and come home.

Taking a deep breath, she began to sing an English song she’d found while browsing around online. At first she wanted to listen to English songs to help her learn her soulmate’s language, but she did end up finding music and artists that she liked.

“Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again today, and the worst part is there's no-one else to blame. Be my friend, hold me. Wrap me up, enfold me. I am small and needy. Warm me up and breathe me,” she sang, picking up the pace as she heard Adrien shout out her name.

“There's a calm surrender, to the rush of day. When the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away. An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you.”

Marinette nearly froze in her tracks.

Her soulmate had sung!

From the sound of his tone, he seemed worried about her. Marinette continued the song she’d been singing, only pausing when he began to sing his song back to her. She had continued walking on autopilot, taking comfort in her soulmate’s voice despite the fact that she could still register Adrien’s shouting in the back of her mind.

She slammed the patisserie door open, too shocked and upset to think about using the private entrance to their home above the bakery. She heard Adrien’s footsteps follow her inside. She had planned on ignoring him, not wanting to have another fight about whether or not Alya and Lila’s latest shenanigans had been ‘friendly teasing’ or not. 

She was going to until Adrien opened his stupid mouth to tell her she was ‘better than this’.

“Adrien, I am allowed to be upset. They destroyed my planner, which had all the events for our class in it. As class president, I’m supposed to have all of those dates written down and available to anyone who needs them. I now have to remake the entire schedule on top of all my other responsibilities. Besides, real jokes don’t normally involve destroying someone’s personal property, now please leave me alone,” she’d told him, firmly.

Before Adrien could respond though, she heard her soulmate sing.

“And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.”

Marinette felt like she’d been struck by lightning as she realized she’d heard an echo, meaning that he was also in the patisserie. He was here! He was here, and he was singing for her!

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in everyone who was present. She saw that her father and mother were swamped with orders, doing their best to keep the line short. There were several regular customers in line with a couple new faces, but no one who stuck out. There was a small trio off to the side, clearly waiting for their order.

They did not appear familiar at all but from the looks of their suits, Marinette wagered they were businessmen. Perhaps they were in the city on business? Or perhaps this wasn’t their normal stop for baked goods, but they came here because it was closer?

Still feeling anxious, she steeled her nerves and began to sing slowly, trying to find the one person who would react in the crowd.

Her eyes were drawn back to the trio, noticing how awestruck the one looked.

He was objectively handsome with a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. He had tanned skin that made the two men next to him look rather pale in comparison. His hair was jet black and well groomed. He looked strong with broad shoulders, and Marinette was certain he had several inches on her as far as height went.

It was his eyes though that caught her attention.

They were a jade green, a bit darker than Adrien’s, but captivating all the same. They were also looking at her with a look of longing that for some reason didn’t frighten Marinette. He looked like he desperately wanted to come over to her, but he appeared to be waiting for something.

The second he realized she had her eyes on him, he opened his mouth and finished the song.

“It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best,” he sang, looking at her almost hopefully.

Marinette felt something in her mind click into place.

She also could swear she heard Tikki giggling from inside her purse.

The little kwami had always told Marinette she’d meet her soulmate one day. She’d also told Marinette that she’d meet him when she needed him most. The little red kwami had seemed extremely confident about that fact and about how her soulmate would be able to help her.

Feeling a nudge from her purse, Marinette swallowed before marching over to where the three men were standing. The one whose gaze had been fixed on her also began to step forward, meeting Marinette half-way. He smiled at her, but his eyes told her he was nervous.

“Hello, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, holding out her hand in what she knew was a traditional American greeting.

He took her hand but surprised her by kissing the back of her hand instead of shaking it.

“Hello, I’m Damian. You have a lovely voice.”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up as she smiled back at him.

“You too...though I’d like to hear it more,” she replied, ignoring the fact he’d yet to let go of her hand.

The grip wasn’t harsh or uncomfortable...but rather warm and reassuring.

“Okay, seriously Demon Spawn,” the shorter man said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is going on, and why were you singing to your soulmate? You never sing out loud! Who is she, and why did you kiss her hand? Do you even know her?”

“Shut. Up. Drake,” Damian hissed, his cheeks coloring a bit. “Can’t you and Father give me a moment?”

Marinette could see the tension building, so she asked the question that had been bugging her since she was a child.

“Why didn’t you ever sing to me before we were eleven?”

This made the two men freeze. A look of realization dawned on them as they looked between Marinette and Damian. The younger of the two had the decency to blush a little bit, mumbling a ‘nevermind’. The older of the two seemed almost...relieved? Happy? Ecstatic?

“Terribly sorry,” the older man said with a smile. “My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m Damian’s father. This is his brother Tim Drake, who I adopted, hence the different last name. Damian, we’re going to take our pastries and head back to the hotel. You can meet us there when you’re done.”

With that, Marinette watched as Bruce pushed Tim towards the exit, still feeling a little confused and dazed. She returned her attention towards Damian, who looked very uncomfortable and upset. She almost told him to forget about her question until he said quietly, “...my mother never told me about soulmates. I wasn’t allowed to sing or hum growing up, but my mother never told me why. They never taught me any songs either. I mainly had to learn them myself. I— I didn’t even realize I was hearing another person’s voice until someone explained it to me.”

Damian was looking down at his shoes, but he managed to lift his head to look at her before continuing.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel lonely or unwanted. I tried singing to you at eleven because I started living with my father around that time.”

Marinette felt relieved and heartbroken all at once.

“You don’t have to apologize just because your mother didn’t tell you about this,” she murmured, getting closer to her soulmate. “I’m just relieved that it wasn’t because you didn’t want me.”

“Excuse me, but Marinette and I were having a conversation! Marinette, you can’t just ignore people! It’s rude! Besides, Alya and Lila are here to apologize.”

The dark haired young woman let out a hiss, making the man in front of her chuckle.

Adrien.

She’d nearly forgotten about him.

Marinette turned around to see that Adrien was glaring daggers at Damian. The blond walked forward and actually had the audacity to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She pushed her arm off of her and stood in front of Damian.

From her new position, she could also see the two harpies from hell waiting at the patisserie door. Alya looked only a little nervous, and Lila had her usual fake sad face on. She could also see the simmering anger in Adrien’s eyes as she chose the stranger over him.

“Oh! Marinette, there you are!” Lila crooned, latching onto Adrien’s arm. “We’re so sorry! We didn’t realize that was your book.”

“I thought you said it was a joke on me though,” she responded, looking between both of them. “If you didn’t know it was mine, why would the joke be on me?”

“We never said that—” Alya began, but Marinette just cut her off.

Reaching into her bag, she took out the little tape recorder she’d been bringing to school to gather evidence. She briefly rewinded it before playing it, the two girls’ voices coming through crystal clear. Her expression did not change as Alya and Lila began to scream about how she couldn’t just record them like that, scrambling to also include how recordings could be taken out of context or misconstrued.

“You’re only mad because Lila won’t let you have Adrien!” Alya shouted, gaining the attention of Marinette’s mother and the other customers. “You’ve had a crush on him forever, and now you’re jealous because you can’t have him because of Lila!”

Marinette could feel a migraine coming on as she bit out, “I. Don’t. Have. A. Crush. On. Him. Seriously? That crush was like a month, two months long before I told you I was over it?”

“Don’t you still love me?” Adrien interjected, looking like a sad puppy.

“Not any more than a friend,” she said bitterly, “but I have no idea if I can consider you even that now.”

“You’re a filthy liar! You so totally have a crush—”

“Excuse me, but could you three kindly fuck off?” a cold voice came from behind her.

Marinette’s head twisted back to see that Damian no longer looked all that shy or vulnerable.

“I’ve waited years to be able to hear her voice in person, as Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng is my soulmate, and I’d really like to get to know her. Without an audience of absolute buffoons,” Damian continued, still coming off cold. “She already asked you to leave her alone, Blondie. My suggestion is take your two bitches and leave before I make you.”

“Ugh, you’re so rude!” Alya snapped. “No wonder you ended up with a cheat like Marinette!”

Marinette felt a twinge in her chest as she looked down at her shoes. She wasn’t surprised Alya had said something like that, but it still hurt deep down. Alya had once been a dear friend of hers, and for her to say such terrible lies about her made her heart break. She went to call out to her mother when Damian let out a snarl.

“You’re the rude ones. You think destroying private property is a joke? You think taking people’s belongings is a joke? You think barging into a place of business isn’t rude? Do you think interjecting on conversations that you’re not a part of isn’t rude? You think what you said isn’t fucking rude? Why don’t you try thinking before you speak? I know that takes up a lot of oxygen, but I can get you a plant if you’re worried about running out. Now, Get. Out.”

Damian cracked his knuckles and slid off his suit jacket, showing off muscled arms that looked a lot stronger than Adrien. He glared at the trio, watching them carefully as they backed off of Marinette. The subtle threat seemed to work as Alya latched onto Adrien’s other arm, both girls pulling him out of the patisserie. They were complaining loudly about how rude he was and continued to say passive aggressive things about Marinette. She thought the situation was going to explode until her mother walked over to them.

“Marinette? What’s going on?” Shouldn’t you be at school? And why were your classmates here?” she asked, gently holding her daughter’s face in her hands.

“I don’t feel well, Maman,” Marinette replied quietly. “It’s getting bad again.”

She watched her mother’s normally gently and friendly face twist into a well concealed look of rage. Sabine’s silver eyes narrowed, slightly worrying Marinette, as she looked at Damian before demanding to know who he thought he was, thinking that he could speak on her daughter’s behalf.

“I’m her soulmate, ‘mam. I wasn’t trying to speak for her, and I apologize if that’s how it was coming off. You see, my mother didn’t allow singing when I was growing up, and I went to go live with my father when I was ten, so for the first ten years of my life, I didn’t know what a soulmate was,” he answered. “It’s been about six years since I learned what a soulmate was, and I’ve been waiting since then to meet the girl who still sings to a silent soulmate.”

Marinette began to blush, stuttering apologies before Damian responded that she had nothing to apologize for. He then smiled at both her and Sabine before asking if they wanted to attend dinner at Le Grand Paris so Sabine could meet his father.

“I’d really like to get to know you, Marinette, but only if that’s what you want too,” he said with a soft smile. “I want this to be your choice as much as it is mine. I don’t want you to think you have to say yes just because we’re soulmates.”

And as she looked into the face of a man who taught himself how to sing just to be able to connect with her when she needed him the most, Marinette actually believed him.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be like Chat Noir and Ladybug…

A hard nudge from her pocket prompted her into answering, “Yes...I’d really like to get to know you too, Damian.”

As he smiled at her, a genuine smile that reached one’s eyes instead of the fake one he’d been using when talking to Lila, she felt her heart skip a few beats. He readjusted his grip on her hand, sending tingles down her arm and making her entire body feel warm. She gently squeezed his hand, receiving an evenly pressured squeeze in return as he talked to her mother about their patisserie shop.

Vaguely in the back of her mind, Marinette wondered if this is what being with your soulmate was supposed to feel like.

If it was...well, Marinette wasn’t going to be trading the warm homey feeling she got watching her mother talk nice with Damian for anything in the world. He seemed to have a quiet sort of charm about him, and he wasn’t easily intimidated by the looks of it, as he didn’t flinch when her father came out to meet him.

No, instead Damian had shook her father’s hand firmly, introducing himself with proud shoulders and confidence. This seemed to make her father happy as he wasn’t frowning as hard when he asked Damian what he did. Her father also seemed satisfied when Damian responded that his father owned a large business, and he was studying to help his older brother take it over once his father decided to retire.

The way he seemed to seamlessly slide into her family, the domestic feeling of it, made Marinette very happy.

Now all she had to do was figure out how to break the news to her soulmate that she was a superhero…

Oh boy.

*Songs in Order of Appearance:

“La Vie en Rose” by Edith Piaf

“Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles

“Can You Feel the Love Tonight” as performed by Elton John

“Breathe Me” by Sia

#maribat #Maribat Secret Santa #Maribat Secret Santa 2020 #Marinette xDamian #daminette #i hope you like it! #long post #it ended up being a biggin'

[fallen-in-dreams]

Moving On

Also on AO3. Pairing: Sasuke/Hinata. Summary: Everyone was lying to her. Killing her with kindness. Shielding her from the pain they all know is coming. But now it was time for some hard-hitting truths. And from the most unlikely source. SasuHina.Post-war. Prompt: Day 25: The Season of Grief. Rated: T. Words: 7,566. Status: Complete.

Author note: Angst and Hinata POV as she slowly comes to the realisation that she can’t have the life she’d been planning for. The Season of Grief = The Five Stages of Grief. The grief of losing the love she used to have.

Warnings/tags: One-sided SasuSaku. One-sided NaruHina. Naruto/OC. Angst with denial, pining, and romantic existential crisis. But with a happy ending.

Thank-you so much @sasuhinamonth​ for hosting this. I'm later than I’d planned, sorry. Hope that’s okay. :)

“There comes a time when you have to stop crossing oceans for people who wouldn't even jump puddles for you.” – Unknown

.

Denial.

.

Life was a series of choices.

For example, Hinata Hyuuga could choose to accept the arranged marriage her father had planned for her, or she could refuse to sign on the dotted line and hold out for love. She chose the latter. She was sure that fourth cousin her father had in mind for her was a nice man, but she wasn’t interested. And after surviving the war and learning to defend herself better emotionally, the last thing she wanted was to regress into the dutiful daughter who never complained. She was finally in control of her own life.

And she was still waiting on Naruto-kun.

Hinata was tired of the sad looks her clansmen would give her when she rebuffed their advances. Centuries of marrying their third or fourth cousins had instilled it too deeply in them that they couldn’t live any other way. Naruto had taught her she could do better, and she was determined to do so.

All of her choices to move forward were the reason Hanabi had been named Clan Heiress. She was already being prepped for it before the war, but their father’s insistence on an arranged marriage was the final straw. Hinata had been officially removed from the running. She would’ve been concerned about being branded with the Branch’s Curse Seal if Naruto hadn’t been so vocal in his disagreement about the practice. The Leaf hero’s words resonated with the village, and Lord Hokage started negotiations to prevent further sealings. Kakashi had also made motions to have those who currently bore the juinjutsu to be released from it. It would take a few more years to fully circumvent it, as the seal hadn’t been designed to be removed, but it was a step forward for the clan. A hope for a better future.

Everything Neji had wanted.

Hinata couldn’t be happier. She only wished to share in that future with Naruto. He was her hero. And the love of her life. She just needed to be more patient with him. But it was frustrating some days. She tried to talk to him and only succeeded when they were alone. Around friends and in crowds, he was so distracted by everyone. One-on-one he became fidgety, but she just chalked that up to him not being very good with girls. He’d stopped asking Sakura out, and the two were nothing more than friends, and he hadn’t asked anyone out. He was just shy.

Hinata already had a plan in place to ask him out herself. She just needed to work up for her own confidence to do so. Someone had to get this relationship going. In the meantime, she daydreamed about how it was going to go. But her days were lonely right now. Waiting. Patiently. And never quite making that important step forward. She had her family and friends and teammates but wanted more.

Her heart could only take so much.

“I just need to be brave.”

Hinata wasn’t brave, emotionally. In dire moments and with important things and people on the line, she knew how to be brave. Adrenaline and determination got her a long way. But in the aftermath, she found herself succumbing to the fear of rejection and crippling shyness.

“Yes, you do.”

She started, realising she’d said that out loud, in front of her sister. She’d been so lost in her thoughts and forgotten where she was for a moment. Hanabi was sitting across from her, the low serving table between them, ignoring the servants as they poured the tea for her before turning to her older sister. Hinata’s sister was clutching a half-finished kimono to her lap and lazily sewing at the hem of it. For such a skilled fighter, her movements were surprisingly delicate.

This was a weekly thing for them. Every Sunday at lunch, when their father was too busy with clan duties to interrupt or overhear them, they would talk to each other about anything or anyone, and when the Hyuuga servants left, even gossip sometimes. Hanabi had been carrying that kimono around all week, taking her time with building on it. Hinata knew her sister well enough to know it was a project with no defined outcome. She was just adding to it at her own leisure. Who knew what it would look like when she was finally done?

Hinata delicately sipped at her tea as Hanabi continued to ignore her own; her eyes narrowing as she focused intensely on the needle and thread. Her sister had developed a habit of people watching, since the war ended. And her insight was far sharper than anyone that Hinata knew. It made her feel insignificant.

“Spoken to Naruto lately?”

Hinata nodded. It was a silent lie. But she could’ve easily ran into him a few days ago if she wanted to so she didn’t see the point in saying otherwise. He was very busy with missions and handling Sasuke. The Uchiha’s release from jail had come as no surprise, given who was Hokage now. Kakashi had always had unwavering faith that he’d return. Just as Naruto did. Sakura… Hinata had seen her waver. But she was more confident now than ever about their team returning as family. Hinata only hoped that when she started dating Naruto herself, that it didn’t upset their dynamic.

“You’re grieving.”

Hinata raised an eyebrow at that. “What am I grieving?”

Her sister smiled. “Love.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Naruto-kun isn’t the smartest person,” Hanabi said. “And I think you know that.”

“He doesn’t have to be.”

Her sister smiled. Again. A knowing smile that Hinata didn’t appreciate. But she said nothing of it and returned to watching Hanabi’s expert hands as she weaved the thread in and out of the kimono. This was a hobby for the younger sister. They’d both learned how to sew traditional garments as well as fix them, when they were still barely able to fight. It was second nature to them both. But Hanabi found a kind of peace to the process that Hinata never could.

“Father wishes you to marry soon.”

“And you?”

Hanabi shook her head. “A few more years, perhaps. When I’m ready to begin training to take over the clan.”

She was still too young to learn everything. Given that Hiashi was nowhere near retiring, it didn’t serve any purpose to put her through those rigorous trials just yet. But Hinata was surprised their father wasn’t thinking about grandchildren yet. At least not from his heiress.

Hanabi put the kimono down and finally sipped at her tea. “How do you feel about Naruto-kun?”

“I love him?”

It was immediate and instinctive, but it sounded more like a question than a statement. Hanabi didn’t react to the questioning tone of her voice. She just gave her older sister a look that told her she was questioning her for more than just curiosity.

“Are you sure, Oneesan?”

She had convinced herself so thoroughly that it was going to happen. Hinata brushed at the hem of the sleeve of her Yukata. Was she? Did she?

Yes.

She still loved Naruto-kun. Of course, she did. She’d gone through too much to just suddenly stop caring about him. He was in her heart. Just like Neji still was.

Was.

“I asked him out.”

“What did he say?”

“He said ‘let’s go to Ichiraku’.” He also said, “that bum Sasuke can pay for mine this time,” but she didn’t see how that was relevant. It was a date. And only two people could go on a date at the same time.

Right?

“Will the rest of Team Kakashi be there?”

Hinata opened her mouth to answer then shut it, her eye twitching in annoyance. She calmed herself and shook her head. “Of course not.”

She didn’t like the way this conversation was going. Hinata glanced at the clock on the wall. They normally took tea, and then lunch, all awhile talking of friends and goals. It was funny to her that they’d never done this until recently. What exactly was the point before now?

Hanabi placed her tea down, almost finished. “We should have the food brought in, before it gets cold.”

Hinata nodded mechanically and waited for the servants to finish setting the table before disappearing. They could not be overheard in this room by anyone who wasn’t already in it. The jutsu that allowed this privacy had been in place since long before either of them were born.

Hanabi started talking about a jutsu that their father wanted to teach them and Hinata calmly dug into her Udon noodles. Silence eventually fell until they were both done. After the servants retrieved the plates, Hanabi went right back to pressing and hemming the edges of the kimono in her hand.

“Sasuke-kun walked by the compound again this morning.”

“Hm?” Hinata sat up straighter at that.

“He’s been doing that a lot lately,” Hanabi mused. “But not last week when you were staying over Sakura’s.”

For Ino’s surprise party sleepover. Which was Sakura’s idea.

Hinata hadn’t slept in her own bed for two nights. It was a first for her, for a long time.

“Sasuke-kun looks in here too. Like he’s searching for something. It’s a barely noticeable glance, but I’ve been staking out the gates.”

“Do you like him?” Hinata was surprised at her sister as well as the strange clenching of her gut.

Hanabi scoffed. “No. But ever since I first saw him watching you training with your team after he got out of prison, I’ve been noticing he does that with you a lot.”

Hinata scoffed. “Don’t be silly.”

“Yeah, you’re right. He’s probably just plotting to kill you.” Hanabi ignored her sister’s worried expression. “Or wondering why you always look so sad these days.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

Hanabi set the unfinished kimono down and stared her sister straight in the eyes. “Do you love him?”

“Who?” Hinata hated how her voice rose a few octaves.

“Naruto-kun.”

“Yes,” she said. “I love him.”

She would wait for Naruto. For him to come to terms with what had happened and realise they were meant to be together. Hinata would be the quiet voice he can’t block out because he loves her so much. No matter that he had already had numerous occasions to prove it to her. Even someone as clueless as him couldn’t not know how she felt. She just needed to give him a push in the right direction.

That’s what I have to do.

And she went right on back to pretending she didn’t see the pitying look on her sister’s face.

  .:.

  Anger.

.

The restaurant was noisy by the time Hinata arrived, dressed up and twisting her fingers nervously. She looked up into the colourful lights that decorated the restaurant of choice. Night-time made this place come alive in a way that surprised patrons that saw it for the first time. This was also one of the newer restaurants that opened after the war. So many things had changed, and so fast and it felt like Konoha was quickly becoming a very different village. Kakashi had authorised integral changes and Hinata could see the village one day becoming as large as a city. She was kind of nervous about that. Their population was steadily growing too, even only a year out.

She sighed and stepped forward in the waiting line. Naruto had said he’d come about seven and it was only a few minutes before. Hinata had spent the last hour already dressed for this date. Her stomach had twisted, making her throw up twice, before that. The line moved again, and she found herself at the head of it faster than her nerves could handle.

It’s finally happening.

“May I help you?”

Hinata cleared her throat. “Party for two. Under the name Hinata Hyuuga.”

The server looked through her list and her eyes widened in surprise. “I’m sorry, we were told that was a party of four.”

“A-are you sure?”

The woman turned the clipboard to show her. When Hinata had asked Naruto to make the arrangement, because she’d been called away by her father, she’d assumed he had made it just for the two of them. It was supposed to be a date… right? When the venue was changed from Ichiraku to The Sannin Sushi House she assumed this was finally going to be more intimate.

Hinata swallowed heavily. “I-I, uh. He must’ve made a mistake.”

The server nodded her head in understanding. “Yes, but unfortunately, we can’t change your table. There aren’t any spare ones tonight.”

The sound of the other patrons hit her then, reminding her of how loud and full the restaurant was. She just nodded and Hinata went along with it, hiding her disappointment. They would just have to do with a larger table between them. A voice in the back of her head scoffed at her.

Who else is coming tonight?

Maybe Naruto had misheard her? She didn’t understand how he could have but it had to have been a mistake. She shook her head, chastising herself for worrying over something so trivial. She was stronger than this.

“Thank-you,” she bowed to the server. “Where is the table?”

Hinata followed the woman and settled into the chair that gave her the best view of the restaurant entrance. She was already on edge, with the change in her plans, and worried that something else might sneak up behind her if she wasn’t careful. All the courage she’d learned from Naruto-kun had boiled off and she needed to get a hold of herself.

“Dining alone, again?”

Hinata gave a start at the familiar voice. “Sasuke-kun,” she said softly.

Why is he here?

Did this mean Naruto had invited him too? No, that didn’t make any sense.

The Uchiha slid into the chair across from her. This was one of the non-self-serve restaurants that had popped up in Konoha in the last twelve months and as a result the space between them, under the table, was minimal. His foot accidentally brushed against hers and she started again.

“A-are you here–”

“Hm. Naruto said he’d pay this time if I turned up early.”

They got dinner together a lot, then? Hinata struggled not to lose the soft smile she’d plastered to her face. It was only natural that Naruto would make time for his former teammate who was also his best friend. This didn’t mean he was avoiding her.

Of course not. Why would I even think such a thing?

“W-where is Sakura-san?”

Sasuke picked up the menu in front of him and lazily perused it, not answering her question. He didn’t look over at her when she repeated the question and began tapping the table with the menu absentmindedly. She wondered what was going through his head. After a few minutes, she’d had enough.

“Why are you here?”

Now, he looked up at her. “There are no more free tables.”

Is he making fun of me?

She assumed he was a joking. He had to be. This was supposed to be just her and Naruto. Sasuke was ruining everything. She didn’t want to burst that out at him, but it did really feel like he was getting in the way deliberately. Hanabi’s words to her the other day about Sasuke following her around popped into her head, but that was ridiculous. Everyone knew he was dating Sakura, just like Hinata hoped to begin dating Naruto. Why else would Sakura be so adamant something was going to happen between them?

“He’s just shy, Hinata,” the pinkette had told her yesterday. “And we’re going out tomorrow night anyway.”

Tomorrow night is tonight, she reminded herself. So where is Sakura?

A waitress sidled up to their table, giving Sasuke a once over with her eyes before asking them for their orders.

“Pork Katsu Curry,” Sasuke said. “With a side of Kani Salad and Green Tea.”

“Certainly, handsome.” The waitress turned to Hinata. “And you, sweetie?”

Hinata felt very uncomfortable under the stare they were both giving her. It felt like she was on a date with Sasuke, not Naruto. She didn’t know how to handle this. It felt like the world had just tipped on its axis. When she was this uncomfortable, Hinata usually just caved to whatever was expected of her. But she didn’t want to keep doing that with the important things in her life. However, this was too public and sensitive a venue for her to start putting her foot down without repercussions. Saying anything about her disappointment and desire to get rid of them both would only make her regret it later.

She blinked heavily. Uh, right. They were still looking at her expectantly. Though Sasuke’s eyes were occasionally drifting off to the side like he was embarrassed, but he still looked more bored than anything.

“Miso Soup,” she said finally, going with something she knew well. Hinata wasn’t hungry enough for a side, but she didn’t want them to think she was angry with them. “And M-Moyashi Salad on the side.” She cleared her throat. “And just some water, please.”

The waitress read their orders back to them then winked. “That’ll be ready in a jiffy. You two lovebirds let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

Hinata’s skin flushed crimson and she lowered her gaze to the table, not daring to see Sasuke’s reaction to that.

“How long until Naruto-kun arrives, do you think?”

Sasuke glanced over at her and shrugged, then leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands, now staring at her. It was making her uncomfortable, so she looked back down again. They remained that way, in silence, for a while. Hinata entertained herself by counting the tassels on the edge of the tablecloth. Over and over again.

“You…”

Hinata looked up quickly as Sasuke trailed off, the look on his face suddenly uncertain. Before she could ask him what he was going to say, the waitress returned with their orders. She felt herself turning beet red, realising they’d been sitting like this for at least ten minutes. The waitress was eyeing them curiously, like one would a couple of bugs under a microscope.

“Thank-you,” they both said at the same time.

Hinata sighed deeply as the waitress bowed to them. She was eerily silent this time and moved away quickly.

“I think we unnerve her,” she said softly.

Sasuke glanced at the woman’s retreating back before digging into his food. For him, it was digging in. Hinata had been in many group outings with Team Kakashi since the war ended and Sasuke was allowed free reign of the village. He ate like a nobleman; picky and proper. Not at all like Naruto.

She sighed again and picked up the bowl with her Miso Soup. If he wasn’t going to turn up, she might as well enjoy the night air and good food. They ate in silence and Hinata slowly settled her nerves, finding the quiet between them a comfortable surprise. The loud noises in the restaurant didn’t bother her anymore and she proceeded to escape into her own little world, just thinking about things.

Her father had been asking her about her future lately, instead of telling her what it would entail. She was finally having conversations with him in which taking part meant that she could approach the subject matter honestly. He’d even stopped asking her about her love life. (His attempt at a marriage of convenience notwithstanding.) Hinata put her bowl down and glanced over at Sasuke. It seemed nobody had a handle on their love life lately.

“Are you…” She hesitated when Sasuke put down his spoon and she suddenly had his full attention. “Um. I thought you were coming here with Sakura-san on a date.” He shook his head. “She, uh, said so yesterday.”

Was that a smirk? Whatever it was, it was gone a moment later.

“Sakura…” he cocked his head to the side. “She has different ideas on what an invitation out with friends means.”

Hinata understood what he meant but frowned softly. Everyone knew that Sakura was obsessed with Sasuke and saw any attention from him as evidence of their undying love. A simple invitation with Team Kakashi could set her off on a soliloquy about star-crossed love. But that didn’t explain why she wasn’t here. Her absence made even less sense than Naruto’s.

Sasuke sighed, obviously realising she wanted to know more. He sat back in his chair heavily.

“I… told her we were meeting at Ichiraku’s.”

“You…”

He told Sakura the wrong place on purpose. He had no intention of being honest with her. Was it a trick? Or just him being a douche? Hinata narrowed her eyes at Sasuke. A familiar feeling of annoyance rose up inside her and if she’d been paying attention to why this bothered her so much, she’d have realised Sasuke was giving Sakura the same kind of brush off that Naruto had done to Hinata.

But she couldn’t bring herself to yell at him either. She ground her teeth. “Take it from me, Sasuke-kun, you wouldn’t like someone you care about doing that to you.”

“Don’t call me Sasuke-kun.”

He hated honorifics.

“You have no idea.” He said it like he’d come to some kind of existential realisation.

“About what?”

“You’re quiet and shy and sweet to everyone. Always putting yourself down and picking up everyone else.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Sasuke continued, now leaning forward and pointing at her like he was her sensei, and she was a naughty genin who refused to listen.

“Despite having such a powerful dojutsu, you don’t even see what’s happening right in front of you. Naruto has obviously left you in the dirt, but you keep holding out hope he’ll come around.” She fidgeted as he continued to reprimand her. “Face it: he lied to you.”

“He was just trying to spare my feelings.” Her voice sounded hollow, even to her.

Sasuke scoffed. “By dragging the decision out.”

“What are you doing to S-Sakura-san?”

“That’s different,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve told her I’m not interested but she won’t take the hint.”

“Naruto-kun’s–”

“He’s a dobe. And he isn’t going to date you, no matter what you think.”

“How can you call him your friend and speak of him like this? I thought you cared–”

“I never said I cared about him.”

“I suppose you expect me to believe that?”

“I’m not the only one running away from the truth.”

“No, you’re perfect,” she said, spitting out the last word.

He smiled at that. Genuinely. Her frustration seemed to amuse him.

“Why are you saying these things to me?” She asked, clenching her fists and glaring openly at him.

“Because no-one else will,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Least of all the one person who should.”

But why did he have to be so rude about it?

He levelled her with the most intense non-glare stare she’d ever seen from him. “Kindness doesn’t seem to work on you.”

Damn. She’d asked that question out loud. Hinata couldn’t get a handle on the emotions bubbling up inside her. It was too painful. She’s waited for years. Held herself up high and given every inch of herself. But Sasuke knew Naruto better than she did. He said the blond had no intention of doing anything with her. He said that he was just a dobe who wasn’t telling her what she needed to hear. She was so furious now that Hinata couldn’t hear anything other than her own blood rushing in her ears.

How dare he?

“You are a low life.” Hinata could hardly believe the words were out of her mouth as she stood up, her body shaking with anger. Sasuke just stared back at her, not surprised or offended one bit. “Sakura-san could do so much better than you.”

“Tell her that.”

She desperately wanted to throw her untouched water at him. But she reigned in that emotion, not wanting to cause a scene that could get back to her father. She’d already embarrassed herself enough. Instead, Hinata huffed, rifled in her purse and threw down just enough money to only pay for her own food. Naruto had apparently promised to pay for Sasuke, and he wasn’t here to do so. But that didn’t mean that she had to do it in his stead. Feeling quite unlike herself, she scowled at him before storming off.

Hinata didn’t see the genuine curiosity on his face at her actions. The small smile of interest she’d sparked. She could only see red. It would be hours before she could calm down enough to realise, he’d been right.

  .:.

  Bargaining.

.

If only she’d been stronger. And more forceful, like Sakura, then none of this would’ve happened. Her life had spiralled out of control. Before that dinner with Sasuke, Hinata could just go along and pretend that one day Naruto would ask her out for real, or at least take her asking seriously. He wasn’t in a relationship of his own, though – to her chagrin – his fangirls were still as stubborn as ever. And that lack of a relationship had given her hope.

Now she had all kinds of thoughts about what was really going on. And the truth was, that Sasuke was right. Naruto-kun wasn’t interested in her like that. It was still hard to grasp since she’d held onto it for so long and it didn’t feel real. They’d shared a moment during the war, holding hands and promising to be there for each other. She’d taken it as a declaration of love while he’d been talking about friendship. Granted, the kid of friendship you kill and die for, but friendship all the same.

I’m as bad as Sakura.

Or maybe only almost as bad as Sakura, since the pinkette was still talking Sasuke up to everyone. He’d made a scene the day after that dinner date (and she could admit that, although accidental, it had been a date), which should’ve put Sakura in her place. Hinata hadn’t seen either of them since then, so she didn’t know if it worked. But she had bigger fish to fry.

Hinata needed to regain control of this chaos she’d created. Maybe she was still in denial though, and it would explain why she’d deliberately made her way to Ichiraku’s, knowing he’d be there. He always was at lunchtime. Everyone knew that Naruto got up at nine o’clock, had breakfast (sometimes in his apartment and sometimes at Ichiraku’s), headed over to the training grounds where he’d work out (and sometimes spar, if any of his former teammates were available), then practically skip to Ichiraku’s for lunch. He’d spend anywhere from half an hour to an hour there, depending on how hungry he was and how many fangirls slowed him down. Then Naruto would promptly return to the training grounds for a few hours before tracking down his former teammates to see who wasn’t busy and then bug them until they either kicked him out or he got bored. If the sun hadn’t set yet he’d wander through the village, waving at people, being waved at, and stopping to talk to other Konoha Eleven members.

Sometimes he spent the late afternoon with Konohamaru and his friends. Then he’d go back to the training grounds and use the dark to hone his sensory skills. Naruto would go at it until he dropped, then drag his arse back home, eat, bathe, and finally sleep until morning.

His schedule was a little different sometimes, depending on his mood and available friends (Kakashi didn’t send him on many missions because he was too overpowered for most of them) but the lunchtime and when he started night-time training were like clockwork.

When he would find time to do the things he’d always gone on about, she didn’t know. But Hinata knew his current schedule because she was a stalker. It was obvious to her now. Nobody else followed him around like this. She wondered if he’d ever taken the time to notice. She needed to get a hold of this before she wasted her life away.

But Hinata couldn’t stop wondering what could’ve been if she’d approached Naruto right after the war instead of waiting for him to get into a routine of ignoring her. Maybe she’d have shown him just how right they were for each other. And he’d finally listen.

This was why she was walking toward the Ichiraku Ramen stand. It was why she stopped next to a stall of flowers and pretended to be interested in them as she watched the ramen stand in her peripherals. And why she didn’t move away the moment she realised he was on a date. Her stomach clenched, but it was a milder pain than she expected. Even so, it still threatened to bring a fresh bout of tears to her eyes to watch him with this girl.

Naruto was the only member of Team Kakashi at the stall. He stood outside, laughing and joking with someone that Hinata didn’t recognise. The girl was really pretty. With short auburn hair and a petite figure that her clothes highlighted, and her makeup complimented. What made Hinata realise it was a date was not only how the girl was dressed to the nines (Naruto, too, for him anyway), but also how he reciprocated when she ran her hand along his arm. He was blushing and trying to pull of the cool guy act. If this was just another fangirl, he wouldn’t put that much work into it, surely.

They talked and laughed a few minutes more before clasping hands and ducking under the flap to take their respective stools in Ichiraku.

Definitely a date.

Hinata let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and turned away from the flowers. The stall server was disappointed but quickly turned to another customer.

Story of my life.

A sudden flare of chakra had her spinning around and she found herself suddenly face to face with Sasuke Uchiha. Had he seen her stalking his friend? There was nothing but his usual aloof stare on his face as he silently appraised her. But she knew. He knew. And the shame of it made her body shake with both anger and humiliation. So, she did the only thing her body was willing to do in that moment.

Hinata ran away.

She took to the rooftops and pushed herself to her limit, trying to get away from Naruto. From Sasuke. Her tears dried on her face by the time she found herself at Team Eight’s old training ground. She wiped at them then found her favourite oak tree and sat down. Even under the shade, the sun was warm and comforting on her skin. She basked in it, closing her eyes.

This time, Hinata felt him arrive. But she didn’t feel childish enough to tell him to go away. She opened her bleary eyes and looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. He looked radiant, with the curve of the blinding light almost silhouetting him. Sasuke moved forward to better block the rays and she lowered her arm.

“Why are you h-here?”

He moved out of the way of the sun and Hinata shaded her eyes quickly. Sasuke always did have a thing for being dramatic. She turned to look at him as he sat down on the grass next to her. He didn’t answer at first, staring up into the sun like it didn’t bother him at all. Nothing ever seemed to bother him. Finally, he sighed.

“I told you so.”

The floodgates opened. She broke down. Hinata couldn’t stop it. She pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged herself, her face in her knees as she cried. She wasn’t upset at him. Only herself. Hinata didn’t react when Sasuke shifted his bum to press his side against her and gave her a one-armed hug. Her head lolled to rest on his shoulder as he pulled her closer to himself, but she didn’t relent on the tears. His hand was large and warm against her, making Hinata cry even more.

Eventually, she stopped shaking and sniffled heavily.

She hated that he could get over their argument so easily and yet she was still plagued with doubts about how she’d acted. How rude he’d been. Hinata gave herself a few silent moments to compose herself before sliding out of his grip and wiping her face. Hinata rose shakily to her feet and gave him a slight bow.

“Thank-you Uchiha-san. I can see myself home now. Good day.”

He watched silently as she walked away solemnly.

  .:.

  Depression.

.

She avoided every member of Team Kakashi for weeks. Hinata couldn’t avoid Kakashi forever however, as the Hokage called her in for a pep talk – his version, rather, which was to ask her if she wanted a mission outside of Konoha. “To get away for a while. You could treat it like a vacation.”

Did everyone know about her problems? Kakashi probably just knew because of the other members of his former team, but it felt like a spotlight was suddenly shining on her and the whole world had gathered to watch her humiliation. She understood his concern. Hinata would think less of him if he hadn’t been. But she couldn’t deal with being this exposed right now.

“No thank-you, Hokage-sama,” she’d said, bowing lower than usual. “I am expected to join father in a mission soon and it would be disrespectful of me to leave Konoha right now.”

He just stared back at her for a moment but eventually nodded his head slowly.

Naruto’s voice interrupted them, suddenly bouncing off the walls as if he was standing right there and making Hinata jumped. But the loud blond was actually just booming down the hall outside.

“Hang on,” Kakashi said, then stood and disappeared out of the room.

Hinata could hear them talking, and Naruto’s whining voice and something about Ichiraku. Naruto yelled out, “woo-hoo!”.

Lord Hokage is trying to get rid of him for me.

But it sounded like he was too excited to get the hint.

Hinata couldn’t stand the pity. The deep, painful feeling that churned in her gut and worked its way up through her body like acid reflux. Hinata stumbled slightly from the physical shock of it. Kakashi meant well and she understood this, but it just made her feel so small.

She couldn’t let people cover for her anymore. Hinata realised that was what people had been doing. Trying to help her by keeping them apart. But all that had done was blind her to the truth. She loved her friends, but this was not the way to moving on. She had to be braver than this. Steeling herself, Hinata pushed her shoulders back and pushed the doors open, leaving the Hokage's office. Kakashi looked surprised to see her come out. His former student went silent upon seeing her, then started fidgeting.

“Hinata…” Naruto trailed off, rubbing the back of his head.

But Hinata ignored him, her chin high and face resolutely forward. She would not give herself the opening to fall back into the comfort of lies. She would not regress. She was stronger than this, damnit! Nobody said anything else as she left the Hokage Tower. When she was out of sight, Hinata finally breathed, shaking her arms to release the tension. Fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.

“I need to go home,” she said to herself, shivering. A storm was on its way, and she didn’t want to walk home soaking wet. She picked up the pace and quickly entered the front gates of the Hyuuga compound. The rain started pelting down the moment they closed behind her, and she sighed deeply. The guards nodded to her, and she smiled at them with all the warmth she could muster.

The grounds of the Hyuuga compound were beautiful no matter what time of year it was. Even in the moist air they came alive. Hinata walked through the covered walkways between the houses, mulling over what she’d just done.

I ignored Naruto-kun.

She’d never done that before. And she had no idea how to deal with it. A part of her wanted to break down again. The other was feeling light as air. Free. Hinata could feel the emotion building up inside her again so hurried into her room and slid the door closed, before anyone could see her. She carefully placed her sandals on the shoe rack and pulled a coat from her wardrobe. The temperature had plummeted, so she sent out her chakra to get the attention of a servant and had them bring her a hot chocolate. Once she found herself alone, she sat on the window seat of her study and stared out through the glass window at the rain below her, hugging the hot chocolate to herself as she took tentative sips.

She was just daydreaming about figures dancing in the rain when she spotted something.

A figure walking in the rain. It was definitely male, his hands in his pockets and exuding chakra from his body to keep the rain at bay. She could sense it faintly, even from this distance. It reminded her of that mission so long ago when she’d been encased in crystal and would’ve died if she hadn’t expelled chakra from her chakra points. It was an easy thing for a Hyuuga to do, but this person wasn’t a Hyuuga.

They paused and looked up toward her. She couldn’t see his face clearly because of how hard the rain was coming down but Hinata was sure now: it was Sasuke. Hanabi was right. She kept watching as he slowly turned away and continued walking. Had he seen her? Did she want him to? Did it even matter?

Yes. Yes. And emphatic yes.

She had no idea why, but yes. Hinata wanted him to care enough to take the long way home that took him past the Hyuuga gates. He was the only one telling her the things she needed to hear. Even Hanabi’s questions weren’t as blunt as they should be. Sasuke was the only one not pitying her. She found she hated pity. She appreciated him so much in that moment. More than she’d appreciated him before.

Hinata swallowed heavily, palming her hand against the glass windowpane as his figure disappeared into the haze of the heavy rain.

“Sasuke.”

  .:.

  Acceptance.

.

All she felt now was exhaustion. She had just run a marathon and dragged herself through most of it, but eventually the energy would return. Her body would recover, and her mind would follow suit. She hoped. She had put so much of her energy into the life she’d imagined with Naruto.

Hinata was surprised she hadn’t snapped much earlier. Looking back, it was obvious this wasn’t going to happen.

He hadn’t left her for someone else. Because they’d never been an item. Her heart still wrenched at the thought of what might’ve been, but she was finally taking those steps to let him go. She had no business shoving him into her heart anyway. Hanabi told her, “You’re finally accepting your grief” when she told her and gave her the warmest hug she’d ever received. It almost made her break down again.

Then Hanabi asked her about Sasuke.

“Sasuke-kun?”

He looked up as she approached, seemingly surprised that she’d sought him out this time. Normally it was him hounding her. No, that wasn’t the right word. He didn’t hound her. He wasn’t some obsessed fanboy. She smiled at that. No, Sasuke was a good friend. She swallowed heavily at the weird sensation that sentence had induce in her gut.

Friend.

The word didn’t sound right either.

So, she’d tracked him down, only to find him in the Uchiha compound graveyard. She almost turned around and left right then, to give him privacy, but figured if he could interrupt her when she was doing something important then she could do the same.

“Hinata?”

He didn’t complain as she knelt next to him and offered a prayer to the headstone he was sitting in front of. It had his parents name on it. She closed her eyes and silently wished them well in the afterlife, then opened her eyes and turned to look at him.

“I was looking for you.”

“Obviously. Why?”

She smiled. “Why not?”

He scoffed, but she didn’t lose her smile. He stared back at her before finally relenting and offering up his own light smile. They both turned back to the headstone and silence reigned for a while. It was comfortable and companionable.

“I’m leaving Konoha.”

She was surprised. “Where will you go?”

“I have a mission.”

Hinata frowned. “Lord Hokage is letting you on missions outside the village?”

He pulled a face and she almost giggled. “Kakashi has little choice.”

This told Hinata that the mission was international. She was suddenly burning with curiosity, but held back because, likely, it was top-secret. And she wasn’t in the know on top-secret missions. The inner circle of the Hokage was always a tight, handful of people and this Hokage was no different. She had no doubt that the rest of his former team knew what he was going to be doing.

“It’s just politics,” he offered, sitting back on his bum now and pulling mindlessly at the grass. “Nobody but I can do it, apparently.”

He didn’t look happy about it. Hinata was quite enjoying his openness right now.

“And it’s for an indefinite amount of time.”

She nodded but he wasn’t paying her any mind. It wasn’t personal so she didn’t take it to heart. She wondered how long he’d be gone. If Hinata was honest with herself, she was going to miss him. Before he got involved with her problems, she wouldn’t have really cared either way. But things were different now. Every day since that evening, she’d seen him in the rain, she’d sat at her window and watched him walk by. Every time he stopped and looked up at her, she swore she could feel his eyes on her. Like he knew she was watching him too.

“What’s the mission?”

Why did I just ask that?

She’d held back because it wasn’t her place. Was she really this desperate to know all about him?

Sasuke stood slowly and stared down at her. “Agree to come with me first.”

“What?” She scrambled to her feet.

“Agree to come with me and I’ll tell you all about it.”

He was serious. She frowned. “But Hokage-sama–”

“Kakashi already offered you an out. He won’t complain about you finally taking it.”

“I’m not approved for the mission.”

“You don’t have to be.” He stepped closer to her, and she felt rooted to the spot. His eyes were intense on hers and in the back of her mind she realised she was seeing a side to Sasuke that few ever did. It was intense. The way he looked at her would haunt her dreams if she said no.

She shivered. If I take too long to answer, will he beg?

His comment had a “they don’t have to know” vibe. Like they were runaways. Star-crossed lovers. She felt herself flush at the thought of that. The idea of going with him sounded exciting if not terrifying. But the idea of staying here, not knowing when she would see him again, was worse.

“You can return to Konoha anytime you want,” he added, stepping impossibly closer. “To whatever life you think you will have back here. Or you can come with me, do some good for the village without having to deal with all the shit you’ve been going through.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. His verbal acknowledgement of her problems seemed so out of character for him. But she was grateful and offered a small smile, which he quickly returned, also to her surprise.

Who is this man standing in front of me, asking me to basically run away with him?

It would be a huge undertaking and she had no idea what she was getting herself into. But suddenly, the rush of the unknown wasn’t so scary to her. It would be an adventure. One with purpose. And perhaps, she could find a little of herself out there. With him.

Hinata widened her smile and nodded. “Okay.”

He was full of surprises, because the next thing she knew, Sasuke’s hands were cupping her face. Her mouth opened slightly in shock, and he licked his lips before slowly moving in toward her. He was giving her time to pull away and change her mind. Hinata didn’t take it, closing her eyes as his mouth gently pressed against hers.

She should’ve seen this coming. This was why Sasuke had even bothered to give her the time of day. This was what all their little moments had been leading up to. This odd feeling of belonging was reciprocated.

I am so blind.

The taste of salt mixed in with the taste of him as she deepened the kiss. But for once, they were happy tears.

  .:.

#SasuHina #sasuhinamonth2021 #day 25 #the season of grief #fanfiction #my fanfiction

[shedreamsofstars]

our union is a secret i’m hoping, dreaming, lying to keep - chapter nine

you’ve all heard of ‘pretending to be married when you’re not’, now get ready for ‘actually married but pretending you’re not’

When Tohru and Kyo accidentally find themselves married, they must keep their new union a secret from their friends and family. That’s easier said than done when you’re both newlywed dorks who just want to spend some quality time with one another whilst said friends and family are always one step away from discovering the truth.

start from the beginning | previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon!)

Kyo watched with quiet contentment as the landscape beyond the train windows shifted from open country fields and rolling hills to flat crop fields and back, waiting for the more industrialised and sharper sights of the city to mark their arrival in Tokyo.

He leaned his head against the headrest of the train seat, a hand casually twined with his wife’s fingers as she talked on the phone. Her own head was pressed firmly against his chest, every word she uttered sending gentle vibrations rumbling through him.

“Oh … I see.”

Kyo frowned at her change in tone, glancing down at the top of her head. He squeezed her fingers lightly to get her attention and she looked up to flash him a small smile. It was likely meant to ease his concern, but it was far too strained to do anything but the opposite.

He shifted in his seat, forcing Tohru to sit up beside him, phone still pressed to her ear. “No, no Grandpa, that’s okay, really. I completely understand,” Tohru said in her typical cheerful tone before falling quiet for a moment, a distinct sorrow tugging at the smile she forced onto her face.

“Okay, take care of yourself. I’ll call you again soon.” Tohru nodded slowly at the conversation on the other side before pulling the phone from her ear and ending the call.

“That doesn’t sound like good news.”

Tohru pressed her lips into a thin hard line. Kyo leaned in towards her, forcing her to look up at him. He barely had time to register the soft sigh she whispered into the space between them before she slumped in his direction, landing carelessly against his chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and gently stroking her back. “I’ve got you. What’s wrong?”

“Grandpa can’t see us today. He’s really busy with some appointment,” she said after a long silence. “He said he’s fine and not to worry but … I really wanted to see him today.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Kyo soothed, letting his chin drop onto her head. Tohru was almost faultlessly happy, so to see her upset made him want to do whatever it took to cheer her up. “We’re here for a few days, maybe we can try and find some other time he’s free?” he offered, hoping it might be enough to boost her mood.

“Hmm,” Tohru replied noncommittally, curling in closer to him as if he were shielding her from the hurt. She had been looking forward to seeing her grandpa, and though she wasn’t saying anything right now, he knew it was only because she was still trying to figure out what she was feeling.

Kyo didn’t push her on it, knowing she’d talk in her own time. He pressed a reassuring kiss to her temple and left it at that, deciding to distract her thoughts with other things in the meantime.

He let the quiet silence that fell around them heal her disappointment, holding her close as the train rolled closer and closer to the city. They’d be arriving at their station soon, so if he wanted to cheer her up, he was going to have to think of something quickly.

“You know, instead of heading straight over to Master’s place, we could just wander around and sightsee for a while. You want me to check if Hanajima and Uotani are free this morning?” he asked.

He wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of meeting the two of them the moment they set foot in Tokyo, but Tohru had already been disappointed once this morning. He could suffer their presence for her sake.

Tohru lifted her head to look up at him, her hair falling into her eyes that brightened at just the mention of her two best friends. “That would be really nice,” she said, a small smile blooming on her lips.

“Alright.” Kyo brushed the hair out of her face with his fingers, stealing a quick kiss. “I’ll call them.

“So, Tohru,” Arisa said casually, leaning against a tree and stretching her arms above her head. “How’s living with that hot head going?”

Tohru and Hana sat at the base of the tree, shielding their eyes from the sunlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves above as they glanced up at her. The three of them had paused their stroll around the park to rest, and Kyo had wandered off to find refreshments.

“It really is wonderful,” Tohru admitted, her cheeks flushing involuntarily as a myriad of thoughts about her husband ran through her mind. He’d only been gone a little while, but already she missed his presence and found herself glancing around to see if he had returned yet.

“Look at that beautiful glow,” Hana said, pinching her cheeks playfully. “He might not be us Arisa, but it seems he’s at least figured out how to keep Tohru happy.”

“Oh, I’ll bet he has,” Arisa said, chuckling as Tohru’s face burned so hot she wondered if she’d start melting. “So, any idea of when he’ll propose?”

Tohru’s heart dropped to her stomach. “What?” she stammered out.

“Well, despite his many many flaws, he does seem prim and proper. You know, the type that wouldn’t keep a lady waiting. In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t done it already.”

The back of Tohru’s neck broke out in a cold sweat and she giggled nervously, hoping that Kyo would come back and help her before she blew their cover.

Unfortunately, he was still nowhere in sight but luck took physical form in Hanajima, who broke through Tohru’s strained silence with her own observations.

“Tohru has always wanted to get married someday. There is no chance that Kyo would risk losing her by holding off. He’s as loyal as a cat that one, so I don’t think we have any need to worry in that department.”

“Hana, I think the phrase is loyal as a dog, not cat,” Arisa corrected.

“Oh is it,” Hana replied, gazing wistfully off into the distance as if the mix up didn’t bother her at all. “I’m not sure I see the difference.”

Not for the first or last time, Tohru found herself wondering just how much the dark-haired girl knew about the Sohma’s history.

“Well … as much as I could watch Kyon suffer, I can’t stand to see you being hurt Tohru,” Arisa said, leaning down and running a comforting hand through Tohru’s locks. “You know, we can talk to him and set him straight if-”

Tohru never got the chance to hear the rest of Arisa’s words as she straightened up at the sound of her name being yelled across the park. Tohru followed the sound to see Kyo heading down the path, four ice cream cones balanced precariously in his two hands.

“Come give me a hand before I drop all of these you damn Yankee!” he called out, struggling to keep the cones upright as he slowly made his way over.

“Who’re you calling Yankee, you damned idiot!” she fumed back, and Tohru wondered if she was more angry at being called a delinquent or the fact that Kyo had interrupted her midsentence.

“Do you want to eat ice cream off the floor? Cause that’s what’ll happen if you don’t take some of these off of me!” Kyo responded, grimacing as some passers-by stared at him for causing a commotion. Arisa rolled her eyes before slowly and reluctantly heading over to help him out, taking both her own and Hanajima’s cones off of him.

“Thank you for going all the way,” Tohru said as Kyo dropped to the ground beside her, handing her the double scooped cone of vanilla ice cream, a tantalisingly warm stick of chocolate fudge sticking out of the top.

“Now that you’re here Kyon,” Arisa said, taking a large bite out of her ice cream as Kyo watched on in horror. “I got a question for you.”

“No!” Tohru squeaked in alarm, her hands flying up so fast that she almost dropped her cone. “Please don’t ask that,” she said, her face flitting between helpless and panicked as she realised where the conversation was headed.

“Something isn’t right,” the blonde girl said, glancing between Tohru and Kyo with a look of pure clarity and an odd gleam in her eye.

“I agree. The waves are in turmoil … but in a pleasantly insistent way. It’s very strange indeed,” Hanajima added, her gaze never leaving the sweet treat in her hands as she devoured it.

“It’s nothing … really,” Tohru said nervously as she glanced at Kyo for support, hoping he’d catch on to what was happening. “We just haven’t really discussed marriage and proposals and … any of that stuff really.”

There was a soft thud from beside her and both Hana and Arisa looked at the source with a curious surprise. Tohru followed their lead only to see Kyo lift his head up from the crook of his arm, looking as if he’d given in.

“No, it’s not nothing,” he grumbled, looking over apologetically at Tohru. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t make you lie to your friends about this.”

Tohru stared at him in shock. “But … what about Master?”

“He’ll find out later tonight, so I guess it doesn’t really matter if we tell them first.”

“Tell us what?” Arisa said suspiciously, a smile on her lips that seemed a little out of place considering the fact her tone was laced with concern.

“Uh,” Tohru stammered a little helplessly, biting her bottom lip as she considered where to begin. With a deep breath to centre herself and a reassuring glance from Kyo, she told her friends everything that had happened over the past week.

About how a simple visit to a festival had spiralled into so much more. Both Hanajima and Arisa listened quietly and patiently as she explained everything from the mistaken paperwork to the ritual and everything after.

“Wait,” Arisa said once she was done, trying her best to hold back a hearty chuckle. “So the two of you got married accidentally,” she said, beginning to cackle gleefully. “And you’ve been hiding it this whole time?”

“A normal person would usually say congratulations or something,” Kyo grumbled.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get there, but that’s gotta be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You two are such dorks!” she replied, wiping a tear of mirth from her eyes.

“An unpredictably bizarre turn of events, I’ll admit. Although it still doesn’t explain the strangeness I sense around you,” Hanajima said, locking onto Kyo with her sharp gaze. Tohru’s chest went tight as her husband shrank under her scrutiny.

“Okay, that’s enough Hanajima. Let the poor guy live. He can’t be a good husband to Tohru if he’s traumatised by your waves.”

“I suppose not,” she agreed, relenting her mental attack on the red head in favour of reaching for Tohru’s half eaten ice cream who handed it over without a second thought. “I shall send you both blessings on your marriage of absurdity,” she finished, mouth full of pilfered ice cream.

“Thank you,” Tohru replied, looking perkier and less nervous than before. She felt so much lighter and excited about everything now that she knew she could share it with her two best friends.

“Yeah, what she said. Congrats to you both,” Arisa said, leaning forward to thump Kyo on the shoulder. He made a small whine of pain, rubbing at his arm with a deep frown as she took a seat beside Hanajima. “Good job on locking her down,” she added a little more softly, looking as if the words hurt her soul a little.

“Thanks,” he replied to the tall blonde, reaching for Tohru’s hand, and pressing a casual kiss against her knuckles. “It means a lot to both of us.” Tohru wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach for him and press kisses all over his face for being so wonderful and doing his best to get along with her friends, but that would have to wait.

For now, she settled on holding tight to his hand as she caught up with the others and how their lives had been going. It was so delightful and nostalgic, that she almost didn’t notice how the time had flown by. Before she knew it, it was almost time for her and Kyo to meet with Kyo’s father. Hers now too, she realised as an afterthought.

“We should make a move if we want to get to Master’s in time. Tohru and I planned to get there a little earlier, just in case he needed any help in the kitchen since the guy can’t cook for anything,” Kyo explained, his face betraying how horrified he was at the thought of leaving his father in charge of dinner alone.

“I’m sorry to have to leave you both so soon,” Tohru admitted sadly.

“That’s okay. As wonderful company as one of you are, Hanajima and I really have to get going too,” Arisa said, glancing pointedly at Kyo who bristled in response. “Relax, we don’t hate you just yet,” she added with a smirk, noting his response.

“Oh yes, our appointment for this evening had almost slipped my mind. It would be best if we get going too,” Hanajima agreed, reaching to pull Tohru into a warm hug that reminded her of the types she’d get from her mother. Arisa ruffled her hair affectionately before heading off with a goodbye of her own.

“I’ll miss you,” Tohru said a little tearfully as the two girls disappeared down the path that led out of the park.

Once she and Kyo were alone, the first thing Tohru did was grab a hold of his jaw and pull him down for a hard kiss, her teeth skimming against his bottom lip as she pulled away.

Kyo was stunned, looking for all the world as if he had forgotten his own name let alone how to speak actual coherent sentences. “What … ?” he started helplessly, unable to find the words he needed to finish his thoughts.

“I wanted to show you how much I appreciate what you did for me today,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t really do anything,” Kyo protested as he rubbed at the back of his neck bashfully, but Tohru frowned lightly at him.

“I know how much you wanted Master to be the first person we told about our marriage,” she explained as she shifted her hand to press gently against his warm cheek.

“Your happiness is more important than something superficial like that. Besides, Uotani and Hanajima seemed to take the news well, so no I have hope that maybe Master will too.”

“Of course he will,” she reassured him, pulling him into another kiss, longer and softer than the last. “Master thinks the world of you Kyo, and I hope you see that someday.”

Kyo took a deep breath but said nothing more on the subject. “Ready to go?” he asked before a mischievous glint flickered in his eyes. “Or we could find somewhere a little more private for a while,” he murmured against her cheek.

As much as her skin heated at his words, she knew that neither of them were really serious about following through. Not when Master was at risk of burning the entire Dojo down without their supervision.

“I’m sure we can find somewhere,” she said, pressing a soft kiss against his nose as she reached for his hands. “But … not right now,” she smiled happily she began to run, dragging him along behind her with a burst of laughter.

… xxx …

um, lol, so i might have accidentally forgotten to post anything for the last five months ... sorry? this chapter probably wasn't worth the wait, but unfortunately it's all i have right now so i hope you at least tolerated it.

i hope you're all doing good though, especially since the final season of fruits basket is feeding us all that good kyoru content <3

#kyoru #kyoru fanfiction #fruits basket #fruits basket fanfiction #our union is a secret i'm hoping dreaming lying to keep

[spookyold-saintjm]

Touch

Mandalorian x female reader

Part of the Pilot series [Masterlist]

Warnings: descriptions of blood/injury, sexual references, Mando is a little handsy.

Word Count: 2,805

Using prompt 38 (“What did they do to you?!”) from my prompt list. Requested anonymously.

So many of you loved my first Mando fic (read it here), so I’ve decided to do more! While this isn’t a direct sequel to The Pilot, I’ll be doing plenty of drabbles and short fics that will tie in to that plot line, like this one!

As always, your thoughts are greatly appreciated. If you’d like to be tagged in future Mando works, I would be honored and happy to add you to the list! Enjoy. x

—

Shock does strange things to your body.

You knew you should be feeling pain, exhaustion, or, you know, anything at all. But you were numb. 

You vision was sharper than ever, though. As you jogged over to the Razor Crest, you became aware of finite details of the ship you’d never noticed before. A scratch here, a loose panel there, chipping paint over there…

Your feet felt like they were floating above the air as you stumbled into the ship, and you had to remind yourself to take steps, left foot right foot left foot right foot, until you were completely inside. 

The figure of a beskar-clad bounty hunter sat at the cockpit of the ship, and you slumped against the back of the pilot’s seat with a weighted sigh as he flipped switches and pressed the necessary buttons to get you in the air and off of this gods-forsaken planet.

“You’re late. So I’m getting us out of here.” His voice, altered slightly by the modulator built into his helmet, was a jolt to your eardrums. He was clearly agitated, maybe even flat-out angry. But you couldn’t will yourself to be bothered. 

You shrugged as you stared at a single, fixed point on the control panel of the ship, unable to move or think about anything else.

“Trouble.” Your voice had a light lilt to it when you uttered the single word. There was now a persistent throbbing feeling crossing diagonally along your ribs and down your side. The sensation was almost ticklish, yet you didn’t really feel like laughing.

“What kind of—”

That heightened vision you’d held onto for a moment longer faded, fast, and the cockpit swirled and wavered around you. Suddenly the roof of the ship was far, far above you as you registered a distant thudding sound. You felt like you were sinking into a deep pool of water.

There was a pause, and then a deep voice was shouting a single word, once, twice. A familiar, broad-shouldered figure with long, dark hair was hovering over you, waving a hand in front of your face.

“Huh? Ca—Car—” you sputtered out coughs in attempts to say her name. Her head jerked upward and off to her right, barking out words at the occupant of the pilot’s seat. 

“Stay with us, y/n. Come on.” Cara was hovered over you now, poking and prodding at your neck, your wrist. You tried to wave her away, but your hand was too heavy, and it dropped back down over your chest. 

“I’m—I’m fine. I—“ You inhaled sharply when you felt something poke the arm you had just tried to move. Cara had grabbed you by the wrist and you squinted your eyes at her grasp on you to see that she had inserted some sort of gods-awful long needle into your arm. You hissed at the intense burning sensation of whatever was in the vial spreading through your system, and you spat a foul curse at the former shock trooper. 

Her eyes widened slightly at your words, and despite the apparent intensity of the moment you caught her half-grin. 

“Your fly-girl’s got a mouth on her, Mando.”

Mando. It finally registered with you that the Mandalorian was piloting the ship, not you. You weren’t even doing the single job you’d been hired for. In fact, you weren’t quite sure what you were doing at that particular moment, but you did know that you had suddenly started to feel oh so good as whatever had been in that vial trickled through your body.

The bounty hunter had switched spots with Cara moments later, although it took you a bit longer to actually register the change in the body hovering over yours. You felt a rush of cool air as his leather-clad gloves lifted up the right side of your blood-stained shirt.

“Hey now, mister,” you slurred, your eyes narrowing as you lazily grinned up at him. He lifted your off the cold floor of the ship just enough to raise your shirt higher and keep it staying put, taking caution to make sure he didn’t reveal anything that wasn’t necessary. “Maybe you want to think about takin' me to dinner or something before you just—” 

“Stop talking.” He ordered. You immediately obeyed, although the grin on your lips lingered a while longer. He was pulling other supplies from the med kit Cara had hauled over, and then you were feeling something cold and mildly stinging on the skin over your ribs. The eventual light tugging of bandages came soon after, and through your thickening haze you realized that he was speaking to you again.

“What did they do to you?” he questioned, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Got cornered,” you attempted to answer through the sudden dryness in your throat. “Saw you, but. You. K-kid. Didn’t want—”

You couldn’t will more words to come. You titled your head back flat onto the floor, your gaze meeting the visor on Mando’s helmet. Your eyes were quickly drooping, a black fog slowly filling the space around you. The more you willed it away, attempting to turn your head and force your eyes open again, the faster things began to fade. 

“M-Mando, I…”

Then there was nothing at all.

—

You awoke to distant, quiet sounds of whirring ship machinery, flat on your back with your arms at your sides.

Opening your eyes was initially a chore; they felt like they’d been weighed down by some invisible pressure. When you finally adjusted to the dim light in the room, you glanced around with a slight turn of your sore neck. 

This wasn’t where you normally found yourself waking up. This was…this was his bed. His. 

It wasn’t much of a bed, to be fair. Little more than a cot extending from the wall of the ship but…still yet. You were in his realm. 

Attempting to raise yourself up was your next mistake. You cried out at the shockwave of sharp pain that blasted through your side. You collapsed back onto the sheets as you tried to catch your breath.

“S’not a good idea.”

You hadn’t heard the door slide open, but there he was, crossing into the room. His footsteps were slow, measured, as always. You looked over to him, instantly annoyed at how helpless you must have appeared.

He reached your side, his form towering over you as his arms reached out toward you.

“Sit or stand?” he asked.

“Sit, I guess.”

He helped ease you up into a sitting position, and you turned so that your legs hung off the side of the bed. The motion caused your vision to spin, and you pressed a hand to the side of your head as you looked up to him.

“What—what happened?” You’d tried to meet his eyes, well, in the way that you could, but you found you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the stare you knew he was giving you beneath the helmet. “We split up and they caught up with me. I couldn’t get to you, Cara had vanished somewhere, and I…" you hesitated as the memories somewhat stuttered there.

“You lost some blood.” Mando stated simply. “You got back to the ship. Gave you something to knock you out. Something else to help you recover.”

You somewhat recalled being sprawled on the floor of the cockpit. “Yeah…” You pressed your fingers to your temple, and winced at the soreness. “Stars, what was in that thing? Is that even on the market?” 

The slight tilt of Mando’s head was enough to tell you that you didn’t want to know the answer. 

“I need to see. Is that okay?” he asked after a moment. At first you pursed your lips at him, confused, until you realized what he meant.

Oh. Yeah. The massive gash along your side that was the whole reason you were in this situation to begin with.

“Uh…” why were you hesitating? “Y-yeah. That’s okay.” 

You scooted closer to the edge of the bed and straightened your posture. There was a moment of stiff stillness between the two of you; were you going to lift your shirt or should he do it? 

You settled on being the one to move, and reached to pull up your shirt by the hem. You let in bunch up in your fingers as you pulled it higher, higher, stopping right where the wound began. You held it in place with your right hand, internally cringing when you felt the faint crunch of dried blood in the fabric. The bandaging was somewhat haphazard, but thorough, and seemed to be enough to have held back the bleeding from getting any worse. 

Mando took a half-step closer, his hand twitching at his side as if he’d suddenly remembered to ask. “You want to, or me?”

“Ah, I can do it,” you replied. You reached down with your free hand and slowly began to peel away the bandaging that covered your wound. The tug of it against your skin was dulled by the sight of the thing underneath; deep and red and brutal. And this was hours after whatever had been in that e-bacta injection.

You inhaled with a hiss at the sight of it. They’d outnumbered you, normally not an issue because they still couldn’t shoot for shit and you’d been up against much worse countless times before, but one of those rogue bastards just happened to have a jagged-edged viroblade tucked away, ready for the opportunity to strike when you made one wrong half-step. 

You were suddenly flooded with anger and shame for allowing this to happen to yourself, and clenched your fist tighter around your shirt as Mando studied the wound for himself.

“Lucky you didn’t lose anything important.” You assumed that was his way of saying that it looked like it hurt. 

You muttered some offhanded curse under your breath, the heat from your agitation suddenly turning to something else you couldn’t identify when he knelt face-level you and a gloved finger began to ghost over the gash in your skin.

“Why’d an Imp have one of those things?” he questioned, more to himself as he continued to study the wound. You only half-heard him, something about his touch on your skin giving you the sudden urge to launch yourself through the ceiling. 

“Don’t know why you call them that,” you forced yourself to speak, although the falter in your voice most definitely wasn’t subtle. Another finger began to glide along your skin as well, as his touch slowly drifted from where the gash tapered off at your hip.

“That’s not what they are anymore.” Along your ribcage. "They’re just the the shit leftovers.” One fingertip’s length away from the underside of your breast. "I—ah, Mando could you—"

His fingers had stopped running along the wound when you’d spoken, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. Yet he hadn’t pulled away. His head tilted up to yours, and you could feel his gaze from underneath his helmet. That kriffing helmet…

His hand abruptly dropped to rest on his beskar-clad knee. The silence that passed between you was nearly a beat too long to be comfortable for either of you, his concealed stare somehow still burning through you in places that you wouldn’t care to admit, until he stood again and turned to pull something from the opened med pack that rested on the shelf next to his bed. You recognized the jar in his hands to contain some sort of healing salve that, much like the injection, you weren’t entirely sure that just anyone should possess. He held it out to you, not making the offer to touch you again.

Slowly, you rose from the bed, then took the jar. Standing on your feet felt strange, the after-effects of the drugs in your system still giving you the faint feeling of floating.

“You got a mirror?” You asked.

He gestured with his head to the opposite side of the small room. “‘Fresher.”

You nodded and carefully treaded over, getting reacquainted with the feeling in your legs. You stepped into the refresher and placed the jar down on the sink after opening the lid, the chemical-and-plant smell rushing to your nose. You glanced over to a tiny shelf, where a fresh set of your clothes rested. You prayed to some god that might be listening that Cara was the one who had dug through your things to find them and not Mando.

You turned to the mirror then, and saw that you looked just like you thought you would: dark circles under your eyes, dull skin, a bruise under your left eye and a small cut along your cheek.

You didn’t dwell on it for long, and instead began to scoop the salve from the jar and spread it across your wound with light strokes. It was an instant, cooling relief and you nearly sighed at the feeling as you continued to apply it to the entire area. Whatever was in it, albeit primitive and definitely not entirely legal, was already making you feel infinitely better than you’d been when you’d first woken up. 

Mando’s voice came from the other room after a couple minute’s silence.

“Hey, look. I’m…I didn’t mean to lash out at you like that. When you made it back to the ship.” His voice was deeper than you’d heard it before, heavy. “I didn’t know—and I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s alright,” you replied, stepping out to face him again when you’d finished. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

You walked over to meet him, the two of you finally standing face-to-face. “I have a job to do, and I wasn’t here to do it when it mattered. I got caught. I deserved it.”

Mando hadn’t moved toward the bandages as you spoke, leaving you just somewhat awkwardly standing there, holding your dirty shirt halfway off your body in front of him. 

He still didn’t move when he replied. “No. These things happen.”

You found yourself curiously tilting your head at him, a peculiar thudding echoing in your chest. You weren’t used to this. He felt guilty about this? He was just going to accept your mistake? And that was it? 

You could only give him a stiff nod in reply. “O-okay.”

He looked back at you for a brief instance longer before starting to help you re-bandage the wound in your side. No more words were spoken, not until you had dropped your shirt back down over your torso. Not until, again, Mando’s touch had lingered for a little too long, as if something about touching you was something familiar and foreign and entrancing, all at once. You didn’t mind.

Your ears suddenly picked up a shrill chattering that you knew could be nothing other than the child, who was currently squeezing himself between Mando’s feet. The Mandalorian moved so that the little green thing could waddle through, over to you. His huge eyes blinked long and slow, and his tiny, clawed hands reached up towards you.

Mando picked him up instead, and the small creature shot an angry pout toward him. 

“She’s still hurt. Let’s leave her alone for a while."

The child whimpered, his ears drooped low as he turned back to look at you. You smiled weakly at him.

“Hey, kid. We’ll play later, okay?” You reached to rub your thumb and forefinger on one of his dropping ears, causing him to give you a contented sigh of acceptance.

“You can take over when you’re ready.” Mando stated, knowing that already, you were itching to get behind the controls again. It was your job, after all. One scrape wasn’t going to stop you anytime soon. And he wasn’t going to be the one to deny that.

The door shut behind him as he and the kid left, leaving you standing in the center of the room.

On the opposite side, Mando was all but ready to collapse as he leaned his back against the door.

He’d only just been able to quiet the frantic pace of his heartbeat, calmed the heat that had raged through his every nerve at your closeness. The feeling of your skin was intoxicating, even through his gloves, and his brain was still begging for him to just turn back around, take the damned gloves off and—

The child’s puzzled cooing at his ear brought him back down to reality, and he released a breath that he’d been holding for far too long as he lifted himself from the door and began to make his way down the hall.

Oh, was he fucked.

—

tags: @jamesdeerest @nadia-rosea @sanslover69 @backontheolebullshit @sunkissed-winter @rogrsnbarnes @capsironunderoos (If you were tagged you commented on The Pilot and I think you rock! I guess I’ll start an official tag list for this now; if you want to be added please let me know!)

#mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars fic #spooky's writing prompts #anonymous #the pilot

[azaisya]

i ADORE your daemon au, thanks for sharing your writing!

Thank you!! I’m never sure how things will go once I send them out into the void haha, but I’m glad you like it!

Here’s a Yi City snippet that I’m (probably) never going to finish:

---

When people saw them, they only ever saw a helpless blind girl and her too-slow, too-dumb daemon. 

He was a cat, mostly, because cats could be cute enough to draw sympathy from adults and vicious enough to drive off fellow street rats. He was a cat now, trotting at her heels as they followed the strange blind man and his equally blind daemon. 

With nobody else there with eyes, A-Qing could stare all she wanted. They were just strange. She’d never heard of a blind daemon before. She hadn’t even known daemons could be blind. 

He’s weird, A-Tao said. 

They’re both weird, A-Qing replied matter-of-factly, If we let them wander around alone, I bet he’d get mugged in a week.

A-Tao sent her a general wave of disinterest, because that was hardly the point. I mean, they’re both weird. But that daemon doesn’t feel right. 

Puzzled, A-Qing frowned at him. The daozhang’s deer daemon was a pretty thing, as white and pure as his person’s robes. She’d never seen a daemon as big or as elegant before, but there was nothing about him that felt wrong. It was a little strange that he hadn’t spoken yet, but she’d learned that proper folk could get weird about who their daemons talked to. The daozhang had introduced them both—Xiao Xingchen and Xiao Jia—with an easy smile that did nothing to reassure A-Qing of his ability to survive on his own. 

As if he felt her watching, the stag turned his head towards her. His eyes were just as white and faded as the rest of him. 

“A-Qing?” Xiao Xingchen asked, slowing, “Is something wrong?”

A-Qing waved. The stag daemon didn’t react. “Um,” she said, “It’s nothing! I just had a rock in my shoe, but I got it out now.” 

Xiao Xingchen just smiled. “Alright. Let me know if you need to rest.”

“I will!” A-Qing said cheerfully, peering closely at him. Okay, she said to A-Tao, The bloody eyes thing is a little weird. 

A-Tao scoffed and darted forwards, close to Xiao Jia but not close enough to touch. His tail lashed in the air. I bet it’s some weird magic bullshit. 

Slowly, A-Qing asked, Do you think his daemon was born blind? Or do you think. . . . She trailed off, too horrified at the thought of magic that could cause irreparable damage to one’s soul to voice the thought aloud. 

A-Tao shuddered. With an agile leap—the sort that he’d never do in front of somebody with working eyes—he jumped into her arms and buried his face in her chest. We’re too small for big magic like that, he said firmly, shifting into an even smaller cat to make his point. 

She hugged him tight. Still a scary thought. 

He licked her chin, tongue sandpaper-rough against her skin. Mm. But not one that should worry us. 

She huffed grumpily and buried her face in his soft fur. In front of them, Xiao Xingchen and Xiao Jia walked blindly on.

---

“F— agh,” A-Qing hissed, under her breath, eyes darting to Xiao Xingchen. His head twitched towards her, the only sign that he’d heard. 

A-Tao—a big tabby once again, balanced on her shoulders—hummed mildly. Yeah, that’s a body. 

Fuck, she thought, in the safety of her own mind, No, he’s alive. He looks like bad news. Ordinary people bled out in ditches all the time, but people wearing discordantly expensive robes or clutching fancy swords weren’t normally the type to get abandoned on the edge of the road like this unless there was somebody with even more expensive robes and even fancier swords that wanted them dead. This man looked vicious even deep in the throes of unconsciousness. Not all of the blood on his robes was his. 

Ahahaha, A-Tao said, Yeah, no. 

“A-Qing?” Xiao Xingchen stopped walking. “What is it?”

She immediately pulled every trick she could think of to get him away, to keep walking, because everything about this man screamed danger, but she was too late.

Xiao Xingchen dropped to his knees besides the unconscious man, heedless of the way his sleeves dragged through the blood, and A-Qing stood tensely at his shoulder. His fingers were deft and careful in their search for injuries, and his ordinarily placid expression darkened at whatever he found. 

“A-Qing,” he murmured, “Can A-Tao see his daemon?”

She didn��t want to look away from the unconscious man, but the question was enough to draw an indignant glare. She opened her mouth, because surely he wasn’t planning to save this person, but then she shut it again when she saw the look on his face. 

Ah, she thought, an odd feeling prickling in her chest. Xiao Xingchen hadn’t even hesitated. He’d just seen—well, smelled—somebody bleeding out and decided to save them. There was no question of risk or cost or logistics. He hadn’t even combed through the bastard’s pockets. 

Ah, she thought again, and then: Huh. It wasn’t the choice she would’ve made. She might even call it a stupid one. But she’d chosen—irrationally—to throw in her lot with Xiao Xingchen, and so she just said, “A-Tao, can you see his daemon?”

A-Tao’s claws bit into her shoulder, but he still stuck his head up and sniffed the air. Out loud, he said, “Um. There, I think.” 

And he was right. There was a dark clump lying in the grass only a couple feet away from the unconscious man, shaped like some strange intersection between bear and weird rodent. She was small, the size of a dog, with dark brown fur that lightened to reddish-brown around her face and in two streaks down her side. There was dried blood crusted over her muzzle and claws. 

Aw man, A-Qing thought, leaning down to poke the daemon with her stick, It looks like it can bite. 

I’ll bite back, A-Tao snapped. He was strung tight with stress, the fur along his spine standing on end. 

“A-Qing, A-Tao,” Xiao Xingchen called, sharper than she’d ever heard him speak before. 

They both reacted instinctively, coming to attention at his side.

“Is his daemon small enough to fit on his chest?”

“Yes,” A-Qing said immediately. 

Xiao Xingchen’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. “Good. A-Tao, can you lay his daemon on his chest?”

A-Tao hissed, recoiling instinctively from the idea of touching a daemon as vicious looking as that. But in the end, he shifted into the biggest dog he could and roughly dragged the daemon onto the unconscious man’s chest, lingering just long enough to make sure that her limbs were curled into her body. She was wounded, too, but it was difficult to tell how much of it was her own injuries and how much was carried over from her person’s near-dead state. 

“Thank you,” Xiao Xingchen said. 

A-Tao shifted back into a cat and hissed again, tail lashing. 

Without any more hesitation, Xiao Xingchen leaned down and scooped the unconscious man up in his arms, cradling him against his chest and careful not to touch the dark-furred daemon. A-Qing gaped at him. Not that she hadn’t expected him to be strong; he had a sword and the air of a proper cultivator. But his figure was deceptively thin, and she definitely wouldn’t have guessed that he could pick up a whole human being—and his daemon!—without even breaking a sweat. 

He didn’t even show any signs of fatigue once they started walking again.

Their pace was much faster than before, and A-Qing stayed silent, wary of the strange man and his strange daemon and shocked by Xiao Xingchen’s casual and unrelenting willingness to help a complete stranger. 

A-Tao stayed at her side, eyes sharp and watchful until they entered a city draped in funeral trappings and he adopted the big-eyed dopey expression he used to distract from his teeth and claws. 

(He was the only one watching Xiao Jia, and so he was the only one who noticed: the stag daemon had not moved during that entire exchange. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all until Xiao Xingchen had started walking again. He didn’t know what that meant—not yet, anyways—but something about it sent a prickle of alarm down his spine. Something was wrong with that daemon.)

---

Later, Xiao Xingchen went into the city looking for supplies. A-Qing had the sweet stickiness of candy in her mouth, and that temporary happiness was almost enough to make her forget that the stranger had almost fucking stabbed her with his sword. 

It was tucked away now, and he was staring at her with unmasked incredulity. There was some interest in his eyes, too, as if she were some new species of animal that he’d never encountered before. 

“Can’t your daemon see?” the stranger asked, raspy voice cheerful and perfectly guileless. 

She frowned at him. Well, slightly to the left of him. “What does it matter to you? Of course he can see.” Before the stranger’s expression could go all sharp and dangerous, she held out her hand and called, “A-Tao!” 

A-Tao—in his usual tabby cat form—ambled over, pace slow and sedate. He butted his head against her shins, and miaowed petulantly. It was an act he’d perfected over the years, one that kept people from thinking twice about them. 

The stranger snorted. “You sure?”

A-Tao jumped as though startled, whirling around and hissing. 

The stranger just laughed. “I’ve got much sharper teeth than you, little kitten.”

A-Qing shivered. She didn’t like the knives in his voice. “He can see perfectly fine! Maybe he just didn’t want to talk to you.”

The stranger cackled with what sounded like genuine delight.

---

A-Qing --> A-Tao (unsettled)

Xiao Xingchen --> Xiao Jia (white stag)

Xue Yang --> Xue Mei (wolverine)

#a qing #xiao xingchen #xue yang #mdzs fanfiction #candleswriting #mdzs daemon au #a series of increasingly terrible dinner parties

[the-diamond-fox-express]

Stringless madness part 2 : the falling king

Meanwhile back at Rachael's place, Rachael began to panic because her step sister is going after brother " I can believe it's happening again, first was our dad and now my brother "John tried to calm her down and in that moment there's a knock on the door " who's there " Rachael ask who's at the door, " It's me Catori... Casey's girlfriend " it turns to be Catori at the door .

Rachael open the door to let her in " why are you here Catori " Rachael ask Catori " Catori replied back " I'm here for Casey, I need her ", Rachael says very nervous to tell Catori but she had too " well... your girlfriend went out to find .... the bandit king " that made Catori triggered " she is want " Catori in a very panic mood. " I think we have to take you home " Rachael and John took Catori home to calm down.

As they took her home Faceless and Showdown was there " what happened " showdown spoke in fright when saw Catori in a pale way, Rachael told everything what is going on and Faceless knows what going to happen. So Faceless and Showdown immediately go after Casey " you two stay here and look after Catori till we come back with Casey " he spoke to the two to look after Catori .

Few minutes later after Casey finally catching up with Samson, Samson saw the hideout and ran as he can. Meanwhile in the hideout, inside the building there is a army of bandits chatting to each other until " ATTENTION !" Roar burst to commond them . As the bandit's stay in place the king Jack himself walk in on his way to the throne, along with the future king his son name Stolas.

As Jack sat on his throne, he told his army a new order " well my bandit's, today is a lovely day to strike ", " where are we striking this time " one of the spoke, Jack look at the bandit " we are striking showdown valley " as the bandit's cheer for the king " haul to the king... haul to the king " as they are still cheering Jack whispers to his son " some day Stolas... these well all be yours my son ", " I'll won't let you down dad " Stolas agreed to his that he will be the next king.

As that moment is gone by the sound of someone at the large door " LET ME IN LET ME IN " as he is banging on the door like his going to break it, " who are you " Jack spoke to the panic person " IT'S ME SAMSON JONES THE HUNTER BANDIT ", Stolas knows Samon and ask his father to let him in. As Samson got in and the bandit's shut the door, Samson ran close to the throne out of breath and kneel, " what seems the matter Samson " Jack questioned Samson what's going on and why his out of breath, Samson tried his best to speak " the ... the ... the sheriff is coming " jack was surprised by what he said " which sheriff Samson " he ask Samson which sheriff is he running from, " Casey Grimm your majesty " that made Jack laugh so hard that the other bandit's join in .

Stolas look at Samson " Samson my friend... there's no way that a sheriff named Casey Grimm, did you ever hear that she is dead along with her parents ", Samson replie back " NO NO SHE'S NOT DEAD ... SHE'S A " Jack and the bandit's stop laughing as the door swung open with a loud slam

Everyone froze for a sec as Casey walks slowly towards Jack, as Casey continued walking the bandit's shut behind her as they are closing in to make that she won't escape. As she got to him she spoke " are you Jack... the bandit king " Jack was surprised that a sheriff questioned him " yes I am the strongest bandit in showdown valley.... and who you might be " he questioned her " my name is Casey Grimm " . Jack look very puzzled by what she said " impossible Casey Grimm died years ago in the fire along with her father and her mo.... " jack stop talking because something caught his eye, as he look at Casey he realized that she got her mother eyes and cheeks, that made Jack mad " SEIZE HER " as he shouts to commonded his men to hold Casey.

Casey is now in trouble as Jack got off his throne and walk towards Casey " how you are alive " he questioned Casey " my father and mother let me to escape from the fire ", Jack was surprised " did your mother tell you about me " he gave her another question " no ... as a child I don't know you ". Jack gave Casey a smirk " hmph... well then... your mother is actually my daughter " Casey was shock that from what he said " no that's not true she's not a bandit like you... she's a saloon girl ". Jack continues to tell her the truth " lies... your mother is a bandit like me, but until she refuses to hurt any one she ran away and married to a soldier " that made Casey's heart ache in pain after she knows that her mother is a bandit.

Jack Isn't done with her yet he ask her one more thing " how did you survive the fire" he whispered to Casey and Casey refused to tell him, " let go of her " as he ask his men to let Casey go as his weapon attached to his right arm he swung it to Casey's left side, " aaahh" Casey in pain as she felt the blade it her side, " I'm not asking you again how did you survive " Jack her again but still refuses to tell him and Jack give her another one to the side, as the blade hit Casey scream again " AHHHHH-cccrrreeeee " Casey's scream turn into stringless cry

Jack swung his weapon again, as he about to swing Casey lift up her arm and scratch Jack. As she look at her hand and see the blood, she began to fell strange " ahhh " as her body make a sound of snap wood, Jack and everyone in the building as she began to make stringless sounds " SSSSCcccrrrrreeee ", then her body began to shake wildly and shouting in pain as she began to transform in her beast form, but not the same form these form of her beast is different as it's body look stronger than her normal beast form, her teeth and claws got sharper and grew more feet

When the transformation is over she got up and raise her head. Samson spoke to his step sister that she's ok " Ca... Casey are you ok " Casey opens her eyes to reveal that they are empty just like a real stringless and give them a fierce roar " RRRROOOOOOAAAAArrrrr....

And just like she began to attack, as Jack give his men an order " KILL HER KILL THAT BEAST " his men are to afraid but they didn't want to let there king down as they began to fire her with there guns.

As they are doing that Jack told Samson " Samson... take my son and take him to a safe " he told Samson to take his son to a safe place " yes sir I'll do that, Stolas came and ran to his father as he knows that his going to die by Casey " dad no I still need you " Jack look at his men that stringless beast Casey began to slaughter them all let she's killing one by one, Jack look at his son and places his hand on his son's shoulder " you don't need me anymore, you are the new king " as Jack gave his hat crown to his son and they ran off

Jack shed his tear as he watch his son ran off, then he turn towards the scene as he watch his men died by the claws of Casey. As Casey finished the last bandit she turn towards Jack, Jack got his weapon and swung it wildly " get back get you beast " but that's not gonna stop her as her grab his blade arm with her mouth and rip it out from his body " AAAAAAHHHHHHhhhhh" Jack fell to the ground with his arm bleeding. As Jack crying in pain as he watch Casey lift her arm she's began swing he said his last words " my daughter Alice... forgive me " just like that Casey swung her arm at Jack's face creating three hugh scratch marks .

Jack's body fell onto ground like a rag doll, as Casey is about to live a blow show up and hit Casey in the neck, then three more came and Casey began to fell funny as she trips herself and landed on the ground.

Beast Casey fell asleep straight away as the ones who blow dart her turns out to be Faceless and Showdown " oh my what happened and ' GASP ' did she " Showdown saw what Casey did " yes " Faceless finish Showdown's sentence as Casey body began to turn back to normal size. " now what bandit... we can't live her here " he questioned Faceless of what to do with Casey as she's in her human form " we have to take her back home and we have to figure out way for her to not turn again " .

As Faceless and Showdown carry Casey body, they didn't know that they have been watched by Stolas and Samson, as they life Stolas and Samson saw the horror for what just happened, and Stolas saw his father's corpse he ran towards it and cried. He cried and cried until he stop, he spoke in a anger way as he look at the door " soon Casey Grimm soon you well pay for killing my father "

Stolas now the new king, him and Samson set out to find new bandits. Find out what happens next to Casey after what just happened

Stay tuned

#showdown bandit #showdown bandit oc #showdown bandit fanart #showdown bandit casey grimm #casey grimm #showdown bandit beast casey #beast casey #showdown bandit faceless bandit #the faceless bandit #faceless bandit #showdown bandit stolas the bandit king #stolas the bandit king #showdown bandit jack the bandit king #jack the bandit king #samson jones #rachael jones #showdown bandit catori #catori #bullet eye john

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 19

<= Chapter 18

Summary : Snatcher and Vanessa have a little talk. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/58399249

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NEW CHAPTER !! I hope you'll like it !

Thank you so much for all your comments ! I need to reply to them, but I've read them, several times ! I'm so happy you like this fanfiction so much ! I'll reply to them later because I'm really sick right now (might be a really painful throat infection, I have no idea), but know that I really wanted to thank you all for your lovely comments !! You have no idea how much it motivates me !

HAPPY READING !

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Chapter 19

Snatcher’s eyes widened as he saw Vanessa entering the room, dressed in her green nightshirt. Guilt was clearly visible on her face as she avoided the shade’s eyes, staring at the floor instead. And, in her hands was the kid’s hat, completely undamaged. But something felt wrong, different… And it didn’t take long for the ghost to notice why: the Queen’s hands looked very much different than human ones. The skin was black and her fingers had gotten thinner, sharper. The tips of her fingers ended much more like claws than regular nails, all black as well. Those hands seemed like they belonged to a monster rather than a person.

And Vanessa having these claws only made the spirit panic. It was like before, just like back then, when she-

The Queen looked up once again and met his eyes for the first time. Snatcher’s breath got caught in his throat as numerous memories kept appearing in his mind, almost blinding him. It was too much, too much… He had hoped his words would make her leave but now he felt extremely vulnerable, especially with him incapacitated and her having hands like these. Knowing Vanessa was behind the door was one thing, but… Seeing her in person, with those claws, while he was unable to move… This was not the same.

Just like the little girl to his side, Snatcher was absolutely terrified. Yet, there was something strange about the expression on Vanessa’s face. And as he stared at her silently, he could feel that her attitude wasn’t the same as before. On the contrary, instead of glaring at him, she seemed… Embarrassed? Ashamed?

Vanessa had never looked this way before. At least, not in a sincere way.

The woman made a few steps towards them and Snatcher could feel his whole body tensing up immediately. She was going to hurt him, wasn’t she? She was going to freeze him to death, he was sure of it! He couldn’t go through all of this again!

And then he heard a scared whimper on his right, which suddenly reminded him of the brat’s presence. Said brat was doing her best to get far, far away from the Queen, in vain. Shackled to the wall like she was, there was absolutely no way she could protect herself against the spirit’s evil ex. The kid was just as much in danger than he was. Maybe more, because why would Vanessa care about a child she didn’t even know?

Snatcher would not allow it.

The spirit gritted his teeth (fangs?) and hissed at Vanessa menacingly. Even if he still had a semi-human body now, he hoped to seem threatening enough to dissuade his ex from coming closer. He still didn’t have his powers, he couldn’t feel the usual energy inside of his chest, but she didn’t know that. Luckily for Snatcher, he was an excellent actor.

-“Don’t you dare take another step,” he growled, baring his fangs and almost not recognizing his own voice. He felt like he had been human for so long that he almost forgot how his voice sounded like as a ghost. It had only been a few days, but it was already too much.

Surprisingly enough, Vanessa listened to him and stopped. She winced at the tone of his voice and glanced away once again. What? The shade was utterly confused by her behaviour. She had lied to him and yelled at him a few hours ago! And now she was acting like she felt bad? Why?! This didn’t make any sense!

Seconds passed in deafening silence. The shade really expected her to attack them at any moment but she remained motionless, waiting patiently. He had thought she would glare at the kid but she didn’t. On the contrary, she had given her a sorry look, instead of looking daggers at the brat. She always used to do that when they were alive, when someone got a little too close to him, though he had always tried his best to ignore it.

Then what was going on? Why wasn’t she reacting badly to the kid? Her anger about himself, he wouldn’t be surprised, but the child had been caught with him! Why wasn’t she mad about them trying to escape too? He didn’t understand!

The shade was about to ask what were her true intents but was cut short when she started to speak, breaking the silence that had fallen into the cellar:

-“I’m sorry,” she murmured, clenching her fingers on the hat she was holding. Her expression was full of a guilt Snatcher had never seen on her. The apology hit Snatcher like a train: Vanessa… Never apologized. She had done so in the last few days yet it had never been this formal.

Something was different. Snatcher’s fear was soon replaced by his anger coming back full force, seeing as they apparently weren’t in immediate danger anymore:

-“You’re sorry?” he repeated, emphasizing the last word as if it were poisonous: “For what? Locking us in here? Keeping us trapped in this doomed timeline? For having killed everyone?”

He scoffed bitterly and continued with a voice full of sarcasm:

-“You know, I’m starting to get confused, because you haven’t done a single good thing since the moment we came here!” he paused and then corrected himself, darkly: “No, actually, that’s wrong. You haven’t done a single good thing since the moment I met you.”

The words clearly had an effect on Vanessa, as she looked away once more, while the air around them cooled down. Maybe the spirit should have kept his mouth shut, considering how vulnerable they were against the Ice Queen. But to the ghost’s extreme bewilderment, she only looked upset and not angry at his claims.

Eventually, she started talking again, staring at her shoes as tears rolled on her cheeks:

-“You’re right. I haven’t.” The shade’s eyes widened at her words, as she continued: “I failed, I did everything wrong. Every possible mistake there was to make, I made it. And… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Snatcher couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. What was she even saying? Did she even realize how much it was too late for this? Subcon Village had been destroyed, everyone had been killed, and she had murdered him! And after hundreds of years spent in pure denial, she was apologizing to him? This was absolutely ridiculous!

Oh no, no, this wouldn’t be that easy for her, he didn’t want it to be. And yet, he had wanted a “sorry” for so, so long…

-“Are you even hearing yourself talking right now?” questioned the spirit, both livid and astonished at the same time: “It’s too late! You can’t change anything!” He then pointed to his shackles with a nod of his head: “Even this! What’s the point of apologizing if you just want us dead?! Is it because you want to feel better about yourself?”

He scoffed again before glaring at her, his eyes full of hatred:

-“Trust me, you don’t deserve it.”

Vanessa lowered her head as more tears left her eyes. Her fingers squeezed the hat she was holding, not moving an inch. She was doing her best not to cry, which only confused Snatcher even more: why would she hold back? It wasn’t like she had tried the other times in the last few days! Was she trying to appear pitiful so he could feel sorry for her? The spirit frowned at the thought in disgust. She was pitiful but he would never, never feel sorry for her. Never, not after what she had done and what she was trying to do in the present.

After a few seconds, the Queen rubbed her eyes with her sleeve and sniffed loudly.

She then asked, looking at him with despair:

-“I want to believe you, I really do… About all of this being fake,” she confessed, closing her eyes: “I want to do the right thing for once, but… How can I know you’re telling the truth?”

Contrary to their other arguments, Vanessa seemed truly sincere. He could see in her expression that she was actually asking him and not fighting his claims as she did in the previous hours. However, that didn’t change the fact that she was still trying to keep the situation as it was, no matter how horrible it was. Who chained their former lover in their basement?! And chaining a child with them?

Snatcher gritted his fangs while the hatless kid was completely silent and motionless, afraid of what was happening. The ghost didn’t blame her.

He then nodded to himself and then to Vanessa’s hands, feeling his frustration growing dangerously.

-“Do we look human to you?” he questioned back, fiercely: “Does it strike you as something real? Because it certainly doesn’t for me. Just use your head for once!”

The Queen lowered his eyes to glance at her own hands before looking away, as if she had been trying to ignore this as much as possible.

-“He told me… He told me it was only temporary…” The spirit’s ex tried to justify herself, but Snatcher would not stand hearing her excuses. No more. No more of that.

-“Oh yeah? And then what’s going to happen? Everything is going to turn back to normal as if nothing had ever happened? Is that what this guy told you? How much naive can you be, Vanessa?”

She frowned at his remark but didn’t try to argue this point. It probably meant she already knew something was wrong. She was just too desperate and blatantly refused to see the truth. And it was all the shade needed to prove his point:

-“You know he’s lying to you. You’ve seen those distortions too. So what do you need to finally see that you’re being manipulated? Do I need to die again because you’re deluding yourself?! Is that it?!”

-“No!” retorted Vanessa with a scream, only to quickly put her hands over her mouth. She then looked all around herself, as if she was scared about something. Or… Someone.

The realization then hit Snatcher: Vanessa probably hadn’t told “Simeon” she was there. But why?

-“Why are you here, Vanessa?” finally asked the spirit, calmly this time: “What do you want from me?”

The Ice Queen remained silent a few seconds, cringing as if she was confused herself by her presence here. She eventually found back the courage to answer the shade, starting to sob:

-“Why does this have to be fake?” she wondered aloud as she cried even more: “Why couldn’t I fix everything? I just want us to be happy, like before!”

Her last sentence hurt Snatcher much more than what he had expected. Not because he was pitying her, far from it, but because… The ghost hadn’t been really happy when he was alive, now that he was thinking about it. Yes, he had been madly in love with Vanessa, wanting nothing more than to live with her for the rest of his life (which he finally did, HAH), yet… There had been so many red flags, so many little things that had made this relationship extremely toxic for him. Whether it was Vanessa bleaching and cutting his hair, forbidding his favourite dish in the manor, preventing him from talking to other people… It had been so suffocating, yet he had been so blindly in love with her that he had never said anything against it. Or, well, he had tried, only to have Vanessa yelling at him afterwards.

He had never been happy. The bad things had outweighed the good ones, more and more as time went by. He just loved her too much to care about it at the time.

Sorrow replaced his anger as he looked at her, right in her eyes:

-“You know it’s too late,” he replied, seeing her face contort with sadness as she heard his words: “It doesn’t work like that.”

-“Then what should I do to make you forgive me?!” she cried out, though more quietly than before. It was obvious she wanted to be redeemed, but how could someone be forgiven after the murder of an entire village over a small misunderstanding?

Vanessa’s words presented him an opportunity to take advantage of her despair, telling her he would forgive her if she freed them… Yet, for an unknown reason, Snatcher couldn’t. He felt like this was his only chance at making his ex realize that she had to take responsibility for her behaviour. Deep inside of him, he knew he would never get a chance like this again.

For the very first time in both their life and afterlife, Vanessa was ready to listen to him.

Snatcher lowered his head. But would she understand?

-“There’s nothing you can do,” he answered with a sad tone: “You can’t do things just so I can forgive you. It doesn’t work like that.”

-“… So you won’t forgive me?” Vanessa seemed heartbroken, though he had expected that with his answer.

-“I don’t think I ever will. Not if you refuse to change.”

The woman remained silent for a minute, visibly doing her best not to cry more. But soon, she was sobbing again, as Snatcher and the hatless kid were watching her. There was nothing they could do and, even if there was, it wasn’t their job.

Vanessa was the one who needed to change, by her own will, not because of someone else. She needed to understand that her actions had consequences and that it wasn’t always possible to erase the past. Both figuratively and literally.

Eventually, after a few more minutes, she calmed herself down, taking deep breathes. The shade had expected her to leave after the conclusion of their discussion, but Vanessa did something else entirely. She reached inside the top hat and took something out of it. It was a small and shiny object that the shade recognized instantly.

The key of those shackles.

-“W-what…?” stuttered the spirit, extremely confused by the recent turns of the events.

Vanessa sniffed again and nodded, a new determination replacing the melancholy on her face.

-“Okay,” she murmured, taking a few more steps towards them: “I trust you.”

The Queen then approached the key and put it inside the lock, opening Snatcher shackles one by one, leaving the spirit absolutely confused but relieved at the same time.

Vanessa had listened to him. For the first time, she had accepted to trust him. This realization brought him a strange feeling of satisfaction, of comfort. He couldn’t help but feel like a huge weight had disappeared from his tired shoulders, a weight he had carried for centuries without even knowing it had been there in the first place.

Vanessa then freed the kid next to him, who seemed much more reassured now that Vanessa had agreed to help them. The woman apologized to the little girl, telling her she was sorry for keeping her locked in here.

In the meantime, the shade rubbed at his wrist nervously, trying his best to ignore the sensation left on his purple “skin”. Somehow, he felt like the shackles were still there, even though they had been taken off.

He had no idea if it was because of his trauma coming back at him… Or if it was just his body returning more and more to his spectral form. After all, he had often felt the shackles on his wrists, even centuries after his death… He stared at his hands, not knowing what to think.

... His body hurt so much.

Snatcher’s thoughts were cut short as the kid tugged his cape gently. The way she was staring at him showed how worry she was for him.

-“You okay, Snatcher?” asked the little girl, concerned.

Vanessa stared at them, not knowing what to do with herself. The ghost couldn’t tell if she was confused about their relationship or the way the child called him. He doubted his ex had learnt he had thrown his old identity through the window, so the latter possibility made sense. She didn’t ask anything about it, though.

-“I’m fine,” answered Snatcher, yet he wasn’t. But he didn’t want to think about it at the moment. All he wanted was to get out of this timeline, once and for all.

He turned back to Vanessa, very much determined with this last thought:

-“So… Who’s the guy behind Simeon?” he questioned.

They needed to know their enemy before doing anything else. They were going to escape this time rift, Snatcher would make sure of it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hope you liked this chapter ! I'll try writing the 22th chapter if my throat gets better. I doubt it will but I think the 22th chapter will be finished soon so... If the inspiration comes tonight, I'll write a little bit !

Chapter 20 =>

#A Hat In Time #ahit #Reliving An Old Nightmare #vanessa #snatcher #hat kid #fanfiction #my art #Raon

[logophilism]

Fractured Starlight - Part 3

@grishaversebigbang

Jesper! He basically fails on a date-not-date and learns a piece of information vital to the plot to SoC. Yeah. 

My gang:

Corporalki: @aragentum, @rebooka17

Materialki: @abaduchi, @paphns, @catpidgeon, @wavesofinkdrops, @erlaszx

@catpidgeon made a fanart inspired by this chapter -- go check it out!

Fic summary: A series of perspectives following the crows pre-SoC and post-CK. Canon compliant.

Word Count: 1716

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Part 3: Jesper

  It started with an itch. It always did. The itch in his fingers, the restless energy that he tried to ignore, building, bubbling up inside him until he couldn’t anymore. And he knew, he knew how to satisfy that urge, that itch, that tingling just under his skin. He knew how the cards would feel sliding against each other in his hand, and how the Makker’s Wheel would click as it spun -- oh, that beautiful, beautiful sound. 

  And he also knew, just about, that he’d likely lose. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was almost broke, that he’d soon be borrowing money for food, and that he still owed a couple hundred kruge to the last gambling hall he’d been to.

  But he realized, as he found himself walking down the streets of the East Stave and searching out a high-stakes den, that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Debts he would worry about later, and for now, all there was would be the cards in his hands and the taste of risk on his tongue. And if it was nearly morning and there was nobody with him, well, as he stood in the shadows of the alleyway outside one of the gambling halls, he was very, very grateful.

  There was a Grisha standing outside Morpheus’ Palace. 

  He almost stumbled when he saw her, dressed in a deep blue kefta trimmed with the intricate grey embroidery of a Squallor. She was tall, with hair, done up in an elaborate bun, just blonde enough to be Fjerdan. Pretty too, in an angular sort of way, her neck thin and her face sharp. 

  There was a silver brooch pinned to the kefta, just above her breast, inlaid with crystals that shimmered in the faint light of the building. The symbol of an--

  Amplifier.

  Shit.

  Jesper drew in a breath. The woman stiffened, turned her gaze to the alley he stood in. She read him in a glance.

  Oh, shit.

  He tried to turn, run, but the Grisha’s eyes had locked onto his, trapped him in such an intense glare that all he could do was stumble a few helpless steps back as she started to approach, hand on hip, eyes like shards of ice.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Jesper cut in first.

  “Hi, um, just passing through.” He almost winced. There were no other places in the region open at such an hour. He blustered on anyways, fixing an awkward smile to his face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind some directions to the nearest, um, restroom.”

  A hand shot out and fingers clasped around his wrist. He flinched. The hand tightened.

  “Are you really stupid enough to fabrikate inside a gambling hall?”

  It should’ve been easy to reach for the pistol he carried on him. Should’ve. Not that it would’ve been much use anyways.

  “Well, ah,” his throat was dry, his heart pounding, “I swear I wasn’t really planning on doing that.”

  “And why would I trust you?” Her voice was sharper than her face.

  “Because I,” he shrank back as far as her grip would allow, “Look trustworthy?”

  An elegantly arched brow, a slight turn of her head as if to indicate here? Trustworthy, here?

  She had a point. Unfortunately, that meant he didn’t. “Because I--” his palms were sweating, “I can’t fabrikate to save my life?”

  One elegant eyebrow rose. “You’re a fabrikator, of course you can fabrikate.”

  A swell of some odd feeling inside him. A tingling heat on his cheeks. “I’m not-- I wasn’t trained.”

  Her eyes searched his face for a long moment before her grip loosened. Jesper snatched his hand back, rubbing his wrist with his other hand. Damn, the woman’s grip was strong.

  It was then that a voice called out behind her, and she stiffened. Jesper’s hand flew to the pistol at his hip, but the Squallor raised a pale hand to stop him.

  “I still don’t believe you, but I can’t stay and talk to you. Noon, Kooperom.” It wasn’t even a question.

  Jesper, still trying to quell the beating of his heart as she walked away, forced a smile across his face. “Who’d refuse a pretty girl like you?”

  It was almost worth the gust of wind slamming him into the wall.

  His back still ached as he made his way to the Kooperom late that morning. He’d managed to dig up his tweed jacket from the university and a passable pair of black shoes that would probably fall apart before the end of the day, given how much he was shuffling and fidgeting. He adjusted the jacket.

  He glanced at the clock tower.

  He adjusted his jacket again.

  Then, considerably past twelve, he strode into the Kooperom with a posture of forced relaxation. Then, he saw her. 

  Her hair was done in a simple braid, her clothes plain and somewhat bland. When she glanced up at him, she merely glanced at the chair opposite her before turning back to her food with an entirely unimpressed expression on her face.

  He gulped.

  His heart thumping up in his throat, he strode over to the empty seat, sliding into it and draping a long arm over the back of it. He felt strange doing so, almost as if he was plunging into something incredibly dangerous, but, well, who said he was cautious?

  “Why, hello--”

  “Stop, shut up,” She glanced over at him, “And stop twitching. You’re late.”

  “Fashionably, of course,” Jesper tried for a smile.

  She ignored him. “What I want to know is,” she leaned back in her chair, “Why haven’t I heard of you?”

  He blinked. “Come again?”

  “Apart from the Council of Tides, the Grisha in Ketterdam know each other, or at least know of each other. Even the ones who don’t know of the rest of us are watched, and yet the only Zemeni fabrikator I know of is an old woman.”

  Jesper blinked. His mouth fell open slightly, mouthing the beginning of something, but his thoughts had frozen.

  “Now, that normally wouldn’t mean much, but last night you said you weren’t trained to use your powers. But with your power and any kind of regular usage, you’d be able to cheat in a gambling hall. And that made me think. If you were sincere, that means you don’t use your powers very much, do you?”

  “Stop,” he finally managed to croak, his voice faint and his head spinning with how surreal the conversation was becoming. He knew on some level he was Grisha -- Zowa, whatever -- obviously, but to hear it spoken of so matter-of-factly with a stranger he’d met not even a day before in broad daylight in the middle of the Barrel… “Should we even be talking about this here?”

  She gave him a small smile. “I’m a Squallor. They’ll hear what I want them to hear.”

  Oh. Oh. He blinked. “Well, I-- um, no, I don’t.”

  She looked at him seriously, her soup all but forgotten. “You have to know that’s not good for you.”

  He looked at her blankly.

  She sighed. “Look, I’m trying to help you. Grisha to grisha. What I’m offering is connections. You wouldn’t have to hide your powers so much if you had others looking out for you.”

  And something clicked inside of him, and he started panicking. “No,” he shook his head, wringing his hands. Nobody can know. “No, don’t tell anyone.” His voice was wavering slightly. 

  The woman’s face softened. “Are you sure?”

  “Please.”

  She looked at him, then offered a single-shouldered shrug. “You can always change your mind.”

  There was a long silence in which the Squallor turned back to her soup. Jesper adjusted his jacket. 

  “Well then,” he started, lounging backwards. His voice almost — but only almost — cracked, “You’re not married, are you?”

  His chair tipped over.

  The conversation carried on like that for a while, with him flirting and failing and being incredibly charming. Then it changed. He didn’t know when he’d started pleading with her, when he’d started rambling, wringing his hands, begging. He knew he looked pathetic, probably, but he was desperate enough to not care.

  “Please, tell me.”

  He hadn’t even gotten around to asking her name. 

  “Please?”

  Maybe it was when she’d hesitated when he’d asked after gambling halls without Amplifiers. Maybe it was when she’d turned him down for the third time and he’d finally accepted that. Maybe it was when she’d refused to answer when he asked her a direct question.

  “Pretty please?”

  And all she was doing was eating and ignoring him. She who knew something about hiding from Amplifiers. She who might know, being an Amplifier herself.

  “Pretty pretty please?”

  “Stop,” she said, her spoon clattering against the side of her bowl. Her expression was conflicted. “You know I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “But you will?”  

  She ignored him. “I have to go,” she said abruptly. Then, placing both hands on the table, she stood up. Before Jesper had even half risen out of his seat, a cry on his lips, the door had closed behind her.

  Well, damn. 

  His heart tightened inside his chest, and a cold shame flushed through him. He could give up any hope of an answer now. He’d scared off his date, or acquaintance, or possible future friend, or whatever she was. Or annoyed the hell out of her, if the speed at which she left was any indication. That was a new low, even for him -- Had he really been that bad?

  He sat back down slowly, looking at her empty dishes, then at the small bowl of soup he’d ordered that he hadn’t even finished.

  Damn.

  He hoped, vaguely, she wouldn’t tell anyone he was a fabrikator. Then he shook himself. He’d probably pissed her off, badly, and she had no obligation to do anything he asked. A knot tied itself in his stomach.

  He really was an idiot, wasn’t he?

  His face fell into his hands, but his gaze wandered, and he noticed the folded napkin under one of her plates. Huh. That was strange. The Kooperom didn’t provide napkins. He stared at it for a while, then reached forward and tugged it out, unfolding it. He looked at it in confusion.

  Written across it in a slanting scrawl was one word. 

  Paraffin.

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A/N: The flow’s not entirely right, but it was getting worse the more I edited it. So, feedback?

#grishaverse #six of crows #grisha #jesper fahey #fanfic #fractured starlight #gvbbcreation

[mooleche]

A Story of Ink and Venom - Ch. 4

A/N - I don’t know what to say. It’s long, they’re all going to be long, I’m not strong enough to make them short. This chapter introduces some key points that will be needed for the next few chapters coming up, as always I hope you enjoy!

If you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters let me know! ( ᐛ )و @leo-writer

Chapter 4 - Aftermath

We ran for what felt like hours.

I thought we were done for, looking up at those terrifying teeth that sneered back at me between Deadpool's limp limbs, blood pooling around our feet. If it hadn't been for the sirens coming I think we probably would have been, but we had somehow managed to pry ourselves away when it turned and never looked back as we ran for our lives.

I wanted to vomit, in fact, I think I did vomit at some point after realizing the blood got into my mouth and was all over my glasses.

The taste wouldn’t leave though. And the nauseating smell of copper hung around me as we tried to find our way back to the labs.

Inside my thoughts were a mess trying to recollect what happened. The terrifying image of Deadpool pulled apart, the look of pleasure on that monsters face as he did it. Bambi squeezed my hand, for her reassurance or mine I didn’t know, but it snapped me from my descent of reliving what had happened and back to reality. Her big blues were now wide with terror, flecks of blood sprinkling her cheeks and shirt. 

This didn’t feel real.

This couldn’t be real.

We jumped at the sudden sound of our names being called, looking to see a worried-looking Barry hurrying towards us who we met halfway.

“Girls? Heaven's are you alright?” he tried asking as he gave us both a one over before directing us back to the labs. One foot in front of the other was all I could manage at this point, everything else led back to that moment that I was desperately trying to forget. “Professor Renato had me watching for you two since the news broke out. Can’t believe this happened so clo-Professor, they’re here!” he babbled on, only stopping as we shuffled through Renato’s lab's doors.

I had never seen so much stress painted onto his face as I did the moment he saw us. He hurried towards us and immediately checked my face. I looked away in shame, already knowing what his sights had focused on.

“Thank the Gods you’re alright,” he uttered softly before directing us to some lab chairs and helping us sit. He disappeared briefly to murmur something to Barry in a hushed tone and I took the opportunity to hastily wipe my nose. I pulled my hand back to see a red so dark it almost appeared black and grimaced. “Girls, can one of you tell me what happened?” Renato asked carefully as he returned, a large medical kit in hand that he gripped tightly as if to calm his own nerves.

It was like the veil of composure had been lifted. Bambi and I looked at one another and released a deep breath, and like a dam breaking, we lost all composure and exploded.

"FUCK. FUCK! That was seriously fucked up, we almost died!"

"Deadpool DID die! Oh my god...Deadpool DIED, Nina!"

Bambi broke down sobbing while I covered my face with my hands and released a scream of panic, a slurry of curses leaving my mouth before I could stop myself. 

"I can't fucking do this, I don't wanna be a hero anymore. I DON'T WANT TO GET RIPPED IN HALF!" I wailed while dragging my hands down my face. My life had almost ended in a matter of minutes and I didn’t know what to do with myself now. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the whole scene play out again and I felt my stomach clench with nausea. 

We jumped as Renato slammed the medical case down on the table beside us and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly not used to all the noise we had created.

“Alright you two, take a few breaths,” he ordered calmly, kneeling down to inspect us both properly this time. “Bambi, can you tell me what happened?”

She took a few deep breaths before going a mile a minute with what had just played out. I watched through teary eyes as he cleaned the scratches on her hands and knees, listening very carefully to what she said before turning to me and sighing.

“And you. You used your powers?” he asked softly, a tinge of disappointment in his voice as he inspected my face once more.

I nodded softly, unable to speak. 

My biggest tell that I had used my them was always a bloody nose. Doctors called it an unusual case of hypertension due to what my body had been through. I called it the god's way of keeping me from getting too cocky with my mutation. Either way, if I did so much as even think about getting overzealous with my powers now it was often too much of a strain on my system and that bloody nose was a warning not to push any further. It was why I had promised Renato that I wouldn’t do something like this to put myself in danger.

I wish I had listened.

He held my chin softly as he wiped away the blood and ink from my face. The realization of how stupid of a decision this had been was coming into sharper focus as I saw the worry in his dark eyes. 

And although I knew he wouldn't say it himself, Renato was thinking the same. 

“I-it was my fault,” Bambi tried to reason as if sensing the tension between us, but the damage had already been done.

“Continue the story,” he requested lightly as he continued to bandage me, but she looked terrified. Her voice grew shakier the closer she grew to the end and the professor rested a hand on her knee in reassurance. The other took to gripping my hand that was now visibly shaking as she mentioned the creature in all its rage and terror.

"Nina managed to stab it and get herself free but...but...-what the hell is THAT?" she interrupted herself as she looked over at me slowly and I froze, unsure of what she was talking about. 

She flew out of her chair, practically climbing onto the table beside us to separate herself from me while screaming and pointing at my hoodie. An indescribable noise of panic rose in my throat as I looked down and saw a pile of black goop traveling quickly across the dark fabric. I screamed, trying to fling it off but failing, instead falling to the floor in a panic and attempting once more to reach for it. I succeeded, a shiver of disgust traveling down my spine at the cold, slimy texture it gave off before I flung it to the ground and scooted away desperately in the opposite direction.

“Calm down!” Renato ordered as he appeared with a clear container and top in hand, brows furrowed with concentration as he intercepted it’s sluggish attempt back to me. He brought the container down with such speed that I had to do a double-take, but it was there, struggling to escape its new plastic prison. I could only release a sigh of relief in response, dropping my head down on the cool tiled floor for a brief peace.

It had only taken a few moments before the remaining workers from other sections poked their heads in with curiosity and concern over our screaming. Renato, swift as ever, gave a simple curt nod to them and shrugged sheepishly. “Nothing to see here. Just a mouse,” he lied, a few chuckles emerging from his peers before they dispersed. I sat up and stared at my grimy hands and felt tears form once more.

It was all too much. 

Between the recent attack and that...whatever that thing was I was headed for a meltdown and fast.

I excused myself to the restroom before Renato or Bambi could question me, rushing down the hall past murmurs and snickers of what had just transpired. If only they had known what we had actually seen, maybe then they wouldn’t be laughing. 

Once I got into the small bathroom I locked the door and ripped my hoodie off, not wanting to get blindsided by something like that again. Looking in the mirror felt like I was looking at a different person. This was not the Nina filled with hope and optimism for a bright future filled with new beginnings that had been here not even an hour ago. This was the Nina that watched all of her hope get ripped in two by a giant monster and wanted nothing more than that boring life she had strived for.

This Nina had failed as a hero and never wanted to go down that route again.

I splashed my face with water to drive away onslaught of tears that began to bubble up and took to fiddling with my hair, now stiff with remnants of blood and sweat. It had engrossed me so much that I failed to see the janitor that I bumped into as I was leaving and I gasped in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” I started but paused as I saw his face. He looked strange. Not his appearance, perse. He looked normal enough, with pale skin and jet black hair that he had tied back and mostly hidden under a ball cap. It was his expression that seemed to catch me off guard.

His dark eyes seemed to study me with fascination and a smile slowly crept upon his lips as he looked at the dried blood that stained my hoodie and hands.

“Right in the thick of it, eh?” he asked just above a whisper, an edge of excitement in his tone.

I frowned and nodded, a feeling of unease spreading the longer I stood there. He looked ready to ask me more questions but I excused myself before he got the chance, diving my hands deep into the pocket of my hoodie before he could inspect them more. I don’t know why he made me so uncomfortable, but something deep down told me to keep away and I wasn’t about to ignore that gut feeling any more than I already had.

When I arrived back in the lab Barry was on his way back out, a look of relief on his face as he saw me pass through the sliding doors.

“You gonna be alright, Ms. Knight?”

“Yeah...yeah, just still a little shaken up…” I admitted, feeling him give a reassuring squeeze to my arm before he departed. Inside the lab was quiet as Bambi and Renato had their sights focused on something in her hands. Our belongings were now miraculously sitting on one of the tables and the food lay open and waiting to be eaten. 

“How-”

“I asked Barry if he would retrieve them when you got here. Please, sit down and eat.” Renato offered, pulling out the chair I had been seated in earlier. I continued to stand stiffly at the doors while eyeing the room warily.

“Where’s that thing?”

“At my desk, don’t worry,” he reassured me as he directed my attention to the sealed container held down by a heavy book. “For precaution,” he added as he noticed my furrowed brows at how much the slimy black substance protested being in the container. Now convinced that things were as back to normal as they could be I took a cautious seat next to Bambi who looked fully immersed in her camera.

“What’s going on?” I asked, scooting closer to her to see what pictures she had taken. She toyed with the spoon in her mouth before sharing the camera screen with me. 

“Just trying to show the professor what that creeper looked like. Here,” she said, tapping the screen with a nicely manicured nail.

If I hadn’t been there in the action myself I’d have thought Bambi was smack dab in the thick of it with us. Her shots were incredible, consisting of close-ups of Spiderman and Deadpool in action. She had even managed to get one of me looking almost cool. At least until I saw the shots of me attempting to run back to her with a face that looked like I had just kicked a bees nest.

“Bam!”

“What! You gotta admit they’re a little funny,” she tried to reason, but quickly moved to the next photos to prevent me from going off on her. I shrugged in annoyance and turned to my food, a yellow looking curry that smelled as hot as it tasted going down. It was welcomed, a sensation I could focus on instead of the dull pain that was quickly beginning to settle in as my adrenaline wore off.

I looked over to Renato who was now seated back at his desk, fully immersed in the impromptu battle station he had created that consisted of a spot for his food, his computer, and a fancy looking microscope I had not seen earlier.

“You’ll have to let me borrow that camera, Bambi,” Renato called as he zipped in his chair from one space to another. “I’d like to send some of the photos it holds to a colleague of mine.” 

She scoffed in response.

“As if. I’ll give you the SD card with the photos on it, but I want them back,” she added as she stood to hand him the small device into his palm. One small nod later he was back to work as if we weren’t there anymore and Bambi turned to me. There was concern on her face as she sat beside me and took my hand, once bright blue eyes now stormy and wide.

“Are you okay?”

I didn’t know how to answer. I wasn’t okay, I didn’t feel like I’d ever be okay after what I saw. But I couldn’t tell her that. Looking at her watching me it was easy to see she was ready to cry again if I answered anything remotely honest. I could only nod softly and turn away in response so she couldn’t see my face. We sat in a heavy silence after, focusing on our meals like they were the only things keeping us tethered to that moment and in some weird way, they were. 

“Incredible,” Renato whispered sometime later, prying us back from our thoughts to look at his hunched over physique. Whatever was under his microscope had completely engrossed him and now left us looking at him with curiosity.

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Renato?” I asked.

“Just...this thing...this creature. Its DNA is fascinating. And somehow very much alive despite being separated from its host for so long.”

“Alive?”

“Seems that way. Take a look,” he whispered as if not wanting to startle it but beckoned me forward. I hesitated but obliged, looking into the microscope and gasping. Whatever this thing was it’s DNA was lively, moving erratically like it was restless and needed something. 

I shivered and pulled back, leaning against his desk as I processed things.

"This feels like some kind of strange nightmare..." I confessed quietly, watching him turn away as he began to clack at his keyboard with excitement. He stopped abruptly and faced me after hearing my words.

"I won’t lie. What you did was extremely dangerous and quite frankly a bit stupid." he started, and I frowned. There it was. The line that I had been hoping so badly to avoid.

"Right. I’m sorr-"

"You didn't let me finish. It was stupid, but you did what you thought was right, and no one can ever fault you for that. And Deadpool? The man’s an idiot, leave it to him to get himself killed with a stunt like this."

I blinked in confusion.

"Do you know Deadpool?"

"I know lots of people, Nina. What I'm trying to say is...don't blame yourself for something that was already written in the cards. Hell, give it some time, you might even see him walking around next week." he added with a casual shrug before returning to his typing, as if what he said didn’t just tear open a whole new set of questions. 

My confusion only deepened. Was he on drugs?

"You did hear the part where I said he got ripped in half, right?" Bambi asked point-blank, her expression matching mine. 

"I've seen heroes reappear from worse scenarios, if you would call him that, to begin with," he added sourly before Bambi and I shared a look with one another. Renato had a fascinating habit of keeping his private life well...private. Before I could even open my mouth to ask the question that we were both desperate to get an answer to he turned to me and shook his head. “No, I will not tell you which superheroes I’ve worked with or what happened to them.”

“Oh come on!” I protested as he stood from his chair, ignoring me to saunter over to the bag where our food once lay. He picked up the smaller decorated bag Mr. Basil had gifted us earlier and held it out in my direction.

“Up for feeding Levi tonight?” Renato suddenly asked as if to steer me away from my curious questions and anxieties. 

I blinked in surprise. The only thing Renato valued more than cleanliness and science was that cuttlefish, the cuttlefish that I had only ever watched him feed from afar because he didn’t trust others to do it.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass up this chance.

“S-sure!” I said, now hurrying to take the bag from his hand before he could object. His tank sat in the corner near Renato’s desk so that he could always keep an eye on him while he worked. Today was no different as I realized it had been here all along, I just hadn’t noticed it with all the chaos going on. I kneeled down to examine the brightly lit tank, being met with various colorful corals and rocks before seeing a small crustacean drift out from a small cave amidst the rocks. It must have known it was feeding time, or maybe it just wanted to greet me, because it very casually floated to the front of the glass where I pressed my face with joy. It was a small, plump little creature that’s little maroon body swayed to and fro with the water as it inspected me.

Renato clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Face off the glass, you’ll smudge it.” he frowned while grabbing for his trusty cleaning cloth for such an occasion and I scowled.

“YoU’lL sMuDgE iT,” I mocked before opening the small bag, being greeted with fresh shrimp that squirmed to life as I grabbed one and hastily tossed it into the tank. Leviathan usually was quick to zip through the water to catch its prey, but today he waited patiently for it to fall before consuming it whole. 

I frowned. “What’s wrong little guy? Not hungry today?”

"He's...just getting up in age now. After all, they only live to be about 2 years old."

“They what?” I asked incredulously. He narrowed his eye at me skeptically.

"Did you listen at all when I explained the lifespan of a cuttlefish?"

“Uhm, yeah! Of course I did,” 

I did not. Death was suddenly everywhere and it rattled me to my core. Renato must have noticed this because he went back to pinching the bridge of his nose delicately and sighing.

“This is exactly why I wasn’t going to bring it up,”

“So what, you were going to just have him die and then tell me?”

“Now hold on-”

“You really don’t have a leg to stand on for this one, Professor,” Bambi called as I started past him to gather my things. I knew he hadn’t meant it intentionally, but my nerves were shot and I suddenly wanted to leave before any other bad news came my way. Bam followed suit and began collecting her things as well. Renato watched us with concern slowly etching onto his face before he began digging around his lab coats pockets for what I assumed were keys.

“Hold on, let me drive you two home.”

“We’ll be fine,” I muttered, trying to head towards the door.

He grabbed my shoulder gently to try and hold me back.

“Nina please, it’s not safe out-”

“Back off!” I shouted, shaken by my own words. Even he looked startled and quickly removed his hand from me with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. It’s just...been a long day and I just want to go home. We’ll be safe, I promise.” I added, shoving my hands deep into my hoodie as he nodded reluctantly.

He looked like he wanted to comfort me, do something to make this situation better. Instead, he uttered a faint ‘Be careful, and text me when you get home!’ as we left. The halls were now silent as everyone else had left for home, my thoughts wandering back to the janitor that had acted so strange earlier and I shivered. I had never seen him before, which wasn’t unusual in this building, but that smile…

I shook my suspicions away as we ran into Barry once more at the exit. He offered to walk us to my Vespa but I politely declined.

Bambi and I stood in a heavy silence shortly after as I handed her my helmet for the ride home. Instead, I felt her hands wrap around my waist and hug me tight. She was shaking.

“Nina, I am so, so sorry...If it hadn’t been for what I said-”

“Bam stop,” I interrupted gently, feeling her head press into my back. “I wanted to do it, and if I hadn’t it might have been both of them instead of just…” I trailed, unable to finish my sentence. I didn’t even know if Spiderman was still alive, we hadn’t bothered checking the news while in the lab. For I knew he was…

“I can’t do this again…” I whispered, her grasp around me growing a little tighter at my words.

“Please don’t do this again. The thought of losing you…” she admitted, her voice becoming thick as the words left her mouth. We stood in silence like this for a few moments before recollecting ourselves and riding home. The trip back was a little longer than I expected, forced to take detours due to the rampage from earlier that destroyed the usual way. My stomach did somersaults as we briefly passed a section that, despite the darkness, had deep stains of blood settled into the pavement that made me feel sick. Bambi’s grip around my waist grew tighter as we passed it and I knew she had seen as well. I grimaced, the faint hope that this was all in my head crushed at her response.

By the time we got back to the dorms it was a ghost town. Usually, by now there was at least the random group of students heading off to the bars or parties. Or a student rushing by stocked to the brim with art supplies to get work done in one of the studios.

Tonight there was nothing.

"Must have been an early curfew since it was so close to the school..." Bambi whispered as if reading my thoughts. We both pulled our phones out to find a series of text messages and missed calls, but one, in particular, we had both missed. In bold flashing red letters was a caution with the following text beneath:

!EMERGENCY! 

Early curfew is now in effect. 

Due to the recent attack of a criminal still on the loose, curfew now begins at 9 PM. 

Updates will be released when more information is provided. 

Do NOT go out alone until further notice.

“Criminal is still on the loose...?” Bambi whispered in horror, a jolt of ice-cold fear stabbing my stomach as I read over the words. We shared a look of unease before rushing into the dorms, like everything would be alright once we were back home. Anything to escape the oncoming realization that my fears of Spiderman’s safety were becoming a reality. Or that if the criminal was still loose it could very well have been looking for the idiot that had tried to take it on.

Again I ask, what was I thinking?

We crashed into our dorm to find a tall, lanky woman pacing before us in the entrance. Her blue eyes widened in relief at the sight of us and she pulled us both into a tight hug. 

“Oh thank god,” she said just above a whisper. Above me, Benni Banks’ worried gaze looked down at Bambi and me who had been smooshed against her chest like the worried mother hen that she was. Her once perfectly parted black and yellow hair now rest in a mess as if she had been constantly running her hands through it and her once pale face was red. 

Behind her on my bed sat Ava who started toward us in large, quick strides, a flurry of Spanish curses trailing behind her.

“You fucking moron, what were you thinking!” she asked angrily, cupping my face in her hands as she inspected me. Her eyes were puffy and face flushed as if she had been crying heavily. Another feeling of intense guilt struck me at this, realizing just how stupid I had been to put myself in this situation, but also my friends. I looked away in shame as she wrapped me in a tight embrace, a small sob escaping her in the process. I wrapped my arms around her gently and frowned.

“I’m so sorry…” I managed to whisper before finding my own tears begin to spill out, my composure gone once more. Being confronted with those who had spent hours worrying was bringing it into sharper focus, and I felt terrible for it. What would they have told my friends if that creature had succeeded in eating me? My parents? I shook my head to dismiss the thought before it swallowed me up again and released myself from Ava’s hold, desperate to take a shower.

I didn’t want to think anymore.

I just wanted this nightmare to be over.

#long post #oc shit #marvelsona #oc x colossus #slow burn #one more chapter until THE THING

[thewildwilds]

Braided

(For @shanlightyear, who wanted some kuzupekos to feel better while she was sick! This was supposed to be short, and then it blew way out of proportion, lmao. It’s a Rapunzel/Tangled AU. Enjoy!)

Before there is a tower, before there is an escape, before there is a duty-bound warrior, or a prince with a fire in his heart, or an adventure that changes them both, before any of that— there is an infant girl, alone and afraid in the world.

The emperor of the kingdom finds her, pitiful as she is. He holds her up to the light, while she shrieks and cries, and says, “You will become the sword and shield for my son. From this day forward, your only purpose is to act out his will.”

He places her in a high tower deep in the woods with only a single window for access. He cares for her on his own, and when she is old enough, he explains it, before she even knows to question it. On her eighteenth birthday, she will become a guard for his son. Like this, locked away on her own, she will never be distracted from her duty.

She agrees.

“Everything you see outside that window is a danger to his well-being,” Master Kuzuryuu says. “You must not let that happen, whatever the cost. One day, his safety will be your responsibility, and you will understand your place in the world.”

She practices, with every discipline she can. Archery, spears, knives, hand-to-hand, though she is best with a blade. Master Kuzuryuu considers it a noble practice, worthy of the young master’s guard.

And when she is not busy practicing, she braids. As much of her hair as she can reach, though it coils long enough to cover her tower room in winding strands.

(Master Kuzuryuu would have it cut, every year until she was ten. She remembers one day begging him to let her keep it long. Please, she had said, may we grow it out? Master Kuzuryuu had agreed, on the condition that she would cut it the second she loses sight of what is important. She has yet to break that vow.)

She thinks of the prince, while she twines long strands between her fingers. She dreams of him often. She does not know him, but she wants to— what kind of person he must be for him to need her protection so much. He must be kind; someone the kingdom can respect and admire for his generosity. He is patient, putting others’ needs before his own. And he is gentle, like water. Every time she thinks of him, she feels herself smiling. Yes, she thinks. That is the person I will protect.

At night, her thoughts take on a more sinister form. She thinks of traitors taking advantage of his kindness. She thinks of dangers he will not be able to foresee. She thinks of enemies from far-off lands, sailing over oceans and trekking over mountains for his blood. The kingdom is prosperous; he’ll be ascending the throne, and they’ll want to take that away from him. She’ll make sure that never happens, even if it means her life.

Anything. She’ll do anything for him.

So when she is seventeen, on the cusp of her eighteenth birthday, and she hears, “Let down your hair to me,” on a warm summer day, as the sun starts to dip behind the mountains, she does so without question, both hands wrapped tight around the base of her hair to keep it from pulling her scalp. She thinks, perhaps, Master Kuzuryuu sounds a little different today, a little shriller, a little sharper. She does not think about how much lighter he feels, or how he’s visiting outside of his normal schedule.

But when he reaches the window, she sees the face she’s only ever seen in her dreams.

They lock eyes, equal measures of wonder and astonishment. (Her own imagination could never do him justice.) His eyes are bright and expressive, pale green around the edges and darker closer to the center. The sun shines red-gold in his hair, like a halo, radiant and ethereal. His cheeks glow faintly pink from the climb.

He breathes, “What the fuck?”

She startles enough to lose her grip on her hair.

He has already stepped through the window, though. He looks at everything in turn, the state of her room, and the weapons on the walls, and her long, long hair, covering the floor like vines. He looks confused, and she understands. It’s too early. She wasn’t supposed to meet him yet. It’s supposed to be… different. More formal. He would understand better that way.

He looks back at her. “Who are you?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for her to answer. He waves a wide arc at her room. “What the fuck is all this?” He sweeps a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is what my dad’s been hiding all these years. Some girl in a tower?”

“Are you the emperor’s son?” she asks, when she finds her voice. She knows she doesn’t have to ask; she can already see it in his face: youthful and boyish, but he has his father’s sharp brow and stern jaw. Her heart beats too quickly to catch up, because he’s real, flesh and blood, standing before her.

He purses his lips into a thin line. “So it’s real. My dad’s been sneaking off here. For…” He trails off. He looks her up and down, brows pinched, like he’s trying to put all the pieces together.

It’s too early.

She tries her best to explain. “Master Kuzuryuu has been caring for me. Preparing me for my eighteenth birthday, for the day that I would meet you.”

“Who are you?” he repeats.

She’s rehearsed this before, planned it over and over again in her head. “Peko Pekoyama,” she says, resolute, “and I am sworn to protect you.”

“You what?”

She explains it. All of it. Her life spent alone in the tower, fighting and training and practicing, for duty, for honor. For him. He listens, his face grim and ashen, and none of it feels right. (He was supposed to be— what? She doesn’t know. Perhaps not necessarily happy to meet her, but more than this.)

“So you’re telling me,” he says, “my dad’s been keeping you locked up in this tower, since the day you were born, so that one day you could be my babysitter?”

“Guard,” she corrects.

“What-the-fuck-ever,” he snaps. (She can’t help but flinch; never in her dreams would she have imagined him having such a harsh tongue.) “Why the hell would I need a guard in the first place? Doesn’t he know I can damn well take care of myself?”

“Master Kuzuryuu says the kingdom could attract many enemies. I am trained in many forms of combat, ever since I was a little girl. I would be able to protect you against any danger.”

“I don’t give a shit about any of that.”

She does not know what to say. He says it so easily, without hesitation, that it dries up her throat.

He gives her another once-over. “And you’ve just been here, doing whatever my dad tells you to do?”

“I have been here,” she agrees, finding her voice again. “But not just because it is my duty. It is my own choice.”

He laughs, without humor. “Yeah, right. This tower has no goddamn doors, or stairs, for that matter. Has my dad let you leave, even once?”

She thinks. She tries to remember. Master Kuzuryuu has been her only human contact her whole life. He has lectured her many times on the dangers of the outside world. She remembers seeing a fox, once, circling the base of the tower, its tail bright and bushy. She had wanted to ask Master Kuzuryuu if she could get a closer look, just once, just for five minutes, and then she’d go straight back to practice.

Has Master Kuzuryuu ever let me leave? She looks down at her hands. She cannot think of a single time.

“No,” she says, quietly.

“Unbelievable,” he rasps. “Unbelievable. What kind of… fucked up bullshit.”

“He’s been doing all this for you,” she says, but even in her own ears, it sounds weak.

“Bullshit.” His patience snaps, like a taut wire. “This is all bullshit.” He kicks at a knitting basket near his foot. It sends spools of yarn flying everywhere, and she is too stunned to be frightened.

(He is kind. He is patient. He is gentle.)

The fantasy crumbles, days and nights spent dreaming about a caring prince she’d be proud to call her master. (He is kind. He is patient. He is gentle.) He is none of those things. He is a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered boy, and he does not even want her.

He doesn’t stop with the basket. Whatever anger he has inside of him explodes. He stomps around demolishing everything in his path, like the entire place sickens him. He yanks a tapestry straight off the wall. He throws a water jug across the room, where it shatters into a million pieces. He flips her writing desk over, and it scatters pencils and papers all over the floor.

“Please stop,” she whispers.

He doesn’t hear her, or he doesn’t listen. She needs to stop him, or calm him down, or something; she thinks perhaps it might be best to wait until he tires himself out— But then he picks up the little cat doll at the foot of her bed—the one thing she had sewn to be her only companion throughout the years (no, she reminds herself, she has no need for companions)—and panic alights in her chest. She doesn’t think. She grabs his shoulder.

“Please,” she says, behind gritted teeth. “Don’t.”

He stops, long enough to look at her, and something softens in his brow and his eyes. His shoulders drop. The doll falls from his grip.

She lets go.

“Fuck it,” he says quietly.

He stalks over to the window. She doesn’t realize what he’s doing, until he swings one leg over.

“Wait! Don’t—”

He doesn’t stop to listen. Perhaps he’s still too angry to think straight. He swings the other leg over without pause—and plummets, shrieking.

She doesn’t think. She runs to the window, both hands gripping her hair. She whips it to the side and then back around, and with a snap, it loops around his waist, like a lasso. She holds on tight, digs the heels of her feet into the floor and pulls. His weight catches. He stops short of the ground, dangling harmlessly in the air.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuckin’ hell.” He doesn’t thank her. He kicks and thrashes until he manages to untangle himself.

“Wait,” she calls after him. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” he says, “to have a talk with my folks about why they think they can keep some strange teenage girl in a tower so that she can be my nanny.”

“Please come back. It’s dangerous out there.”

“I can handle it!”

“But—”

He’s almost too far away to see, between all the trees and leaves.

Her fingers curl around the windowsill. Soon it will be dark. He could get hurt on his way back to the castle. Wolves or bandits or any number of things Master Kuzuryuu has warned her about, and just the thought sends a chill down her spine.

“Wait,” she calls again. “I’m coming with you.”

He stops, and spins around. “You what?”

If she uses her hair like a pulley, she can lower herself safely. She won’t be able to get back up, but that…

Her heartbeat quickens.

That’s not important right now. She can worry about the consequences later.

She only grabs one weapon: the short sword dangling by the mantle. Simple, yet practical. She does not know what she’ll expect out there, but she’ll be ready. She made a vow: never lose sight of what’s important.

He is not what she expected. But she vowed to keep him safe, so that’s what she’ll do.

She whips her hair up, until it catches on the hook she uses to pull up Master Kuzuryuu during his weekly visits. She swings both legs out the window, perched on the sill, her grip firm but trembling around her hair. She’s never done this before. Trepidation and fear and wariness all hammer in her chest.

She jumps off. (As she descends, she cannot help but look back up at the window, growing smaller and smaller by the second, the place she called home her entire life.) Already, the air smells different, open and clean. She slows, right before she hits the ground, and stops there.

He’s watching her, arms crossed; not impatient, but perhaps irritated. He could have left her behind, if he wanted. He would have had the time. But he waited.

She lowers her foot.

Her toes touch grass, and the rush she feels is indescribable.

#peko pekoyama #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #kuzupeko #danganronpa #sdr2 #me: this'll be short #five days later #this 2k monstrosity is born lmao #why can i never actually contain myself #well i hope you like it shannon! #i'm sorry it's so late but i hope you're feelin' better! #anh's writing #a reminder that anh loves all fairy tales #and thinks about them constantly #my two true loves finally meeting #fairy tales and kuzupeko #life is great #queue robot #i'm so sorry for the weird formatting issues #tumblr is acting weird with the ' and " symbols

[filmista]

Gone Girl (2014)

“When two people love each other and they can't make that work, that's the real tragedy.”

The first time I watched ‘Gone Girl’ was before I had read Gillian Flynn’s novel of the same name. The film gripped me so much the first time, that one of the first things I did after was read, or better said devoured Flynn’s novel in about a day.

Flynn’s novel is not only an interesting look at a female psychopath (people have compared Amy Dunne to Patrick Bateman; though I think Bateman is more perverse) as scary as it sounds at least with Amy Dunne, we see things in her character that don’t justify or excuse what she does but that can make you understand her.

There is, however, a scary similarity between the two: both are seen as “perfect Americans" in a way, women find Patrick Bate hot and men admire him at his job because he’s the man that’s got everything at first sight and nothing seems to ever affect him; it shows that scary notion that being emotionless is the male ideal.

And Amy’s literally a children’s idol, she signs autographs for children and becomes an American heroine, “America’s sweetheart” she’s hailed on the news even after she has committed cold-blooded murder and vicious, sickening acts. 

So what does that mean? Is too much perfection craziness? Or does striving for perfection drive us crazy? Or is it the pretense the trying to project a perfect image towards the world?

Both are characters that seemingly are perfect and they seem to at first glance have all the ingredients for happiness, but once you look underneath, well the only thing that really prevails is a killer boredom and an emptiness, both feel like they aren’t present, like they’re not there, or in Amy’s words: “I feel like I could disappear”.

The first time I read Flynn’s novel I was enthralled, Amy Dunne is one of the most interesting and complex female characters I’ve ever seen in anything, but I was also very pleased that Fincher had done Flynn’s work so much justice.

He actually worked with Flynn and allowed her to contribute to making her own book into a screenplay, and as a result of the essence of the book really transfers onto the screen.

However, Fincher’s adaptation of the book is interesting because of many reasons, not just because it is one of the best literary adaptations I’ve seen but also because it’s well made. It’s beautiful on a simple aesthetic level but it’s deep too, it’s the kind of film that’s gonna make you think after and that you can bet will stay with you for a few days after.

And most importantly it’s got respect for the audience there’s no hand-holding, it’s assumed you’re smart enough to follow what’s happening, and so no unnecessary flashbacks to remind you of what happened earlier, you’re supposed to still remember. 

This does make ‘Gone Girl’ into a film that you have to pay attention to, it’s not the kind of film you can continue to watch while you’re doing say your dishes.

Before delving into further detail though, I’ll leave the storyline here:

On the occasion of his fifth wedding anniversary, Nick Dunne reports that his wife, Amy, has gone missing. Under pressure from the police and a growing media frenzy, Nick's portrait of a blissful union begins to crumble. Soon his lies, deceits and strange behavior have everyone asking the same dark question: Did Nick Dunne kill his wife?

The most interesting thing about the film though, is the titular Gone Girl, Amy Dunne. Amy Dunne is an incredibly complex and compelling female character, she’s unique, because she gets to do what a lot of women in films often can’t do without being held accountable or locked up in an institution: she gets to go utterly insane and she triumphs in the end, she’s a villainess of the first degree.

She’s impossible to run away from and to outsmart, she’s at the top and there she stays, she’s not superhuman either, because she has weaknesses and she can be vulnerable, as a few moments in the film illustrate, but when she’s not vulnerable, she can't be stopped by no man or woman.

There’s no doubt that Amy Dunne, is a monster, but she’s ultimately more interesting than Patrick Bateman and I said I think less perverse, yes she has a method to her insanity and it’s safe to assume she’s conscious and aware of her action and knows exactly what she is doing.

But unlike Bateman, external events shaped Amy; she was made into a monster by the world around her and those that were supposed to care about her, it doesn’t justify that she killed a man and that she staged her own disappearance.

But it can make you understand it to some degree, and to some degree, you sympathize with her at certain points, because underneath the layer of insanity, there’s still human emotion and vulnerability left, maybe she would never have snapped had she not been pushed.

I’ve now watched ‘Gone Girl’s more than once with different people, and I always notice something very interesting: people usually divide both the main characters Nick Dunne and Amy Dunne in two categories: he’s a good guy (that’s done nothing wrong) and Amy’s a psycho bitch.

When I watched the film though, I obviously did recognise that Amy is not normal and that she clearly has mental problems, but to a certain degree I could understand (not justify) why she did what she did, I can see the reasoning behind her actions, why she decided to do what she did.

Amy Dunne’s a brilliant woman, with an obvious eager mind, as illustrated by the various degrees of hers on the walls of her bedroom, but she became a housewife, not that, that is what drove her insane, because a woman like her would have something to do, had it been studying or whatever.

But she was not used to being ignored, she’s never been used to feeling like she doesn’t matter. Amy was the only child of her parents, she had always been made felt like she was unique and a miracle, something worthy of admiration, something that had to excel and preferably honor them.

Amy’s parents turned her childhood and adult life into a series of books, the heroine of which is Amazing Amy, Amy is essentially a literal Amy, but this Amy never disappoints and is always perfect. And more importantly, she is adored by millions of kids in America.

You wouldn’t think that this would be the kind of thing that would mess someone up, but I think that in the case of Amy it does, I think her parents created a split personality in her; in many ways Amy is trying to adapt the Amy amazing persona, she tries to be Amazing Amy, as she says at one point: “Amazing Amy has always been one step ahead of me”. And she feels that it’s her duty to walk into Amazing Amy’s shoes.

Because what she wants really is nothing more than to be loved, or receive what she thinks to constitute as love, her parents seem to adore her but they come across as very fake and cold people.

How much do they care about their daughter? (perhaps this makes fun of those people in America that force their kids to participate in atrocious television such as ‘Honey Booboo’, I honestly think that should be considered child abuse).

Perhaps they care more for the literate version than they do their own daughter, which would be a messed up thing, but then again what parents turn their own daughter into a product?

At one point Amy’s father at an event for one of her books (in which Amazing Amy gets married while real-life Amy has not yet taken that step, her mom even wants her to wear a wedding dress, just how crazy is that woman?!) forces her to go socialise and mingle, what if Amy doesn’t want to? What if she doesn’t want the spotlight?

That doesn’t matter to her parents; all they seem to care about is Amy the product, and perhaps she strives so much to become Amazing Amy because all she really wants is love from her parents like any child should receive.

And then she meets the perfect man, her dream guy. Finally, a man that seems to admire and care about her seemingly just for the person she is. Though there’s a catch, perhaps Amy’s childhood messed her up so much, that her entire definition of love became messed up.

She literally says “ I forged the man of my dreams.” She saw a guy that she probably sensed was manipulable and could be rebuilt into the kind of man she likes; and isn’t love about not changing the person you love, unless it’s in their self-interest.

Like helping them get rid of an unhealthy habit such as smoking? But Amy sees this man, and she probably is physically attracted to him and she did recognize good personality traits.

But she felt that she could make him into a better man, a man that would make her look good, a man that would fit amazing Amy. And so she presents a persona to lure him in (I believe we all do this a little though sometimes) I feel like I should include the famous Cool girl speech here:

Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. "Cool girl". Men always use that, don't they? As their defining compliment: "She's a cool girl". Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently, he's a vinyl hipster who loves fetish Manga. If he likes girls gone wild, she's a mall babe who talks for football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Nick Dunne I knew he wanted "Cool girl". And for him, I'll admit: I was willing to try. I wax-stripped my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Adam Sandler movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size two. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can't say I didn't enjoy some of it. Nick teased out in me things I didn't know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter. Sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew. 

And it works, he’s dazzled and falls for Amy. And while that might seem despicable to some degree, I don’t argue that isn’t. it’s always said that we should be ourselves.

But Amy has got a certain point: society’s not always content with women just being themselves, society wants amplified women, women who her always at their best.

And she knows this better than anyone and refuses to let being a woman bring her down, or believe that it gives her any less right to anything. I mean how can you as a woman (I admit that I did to some degree) or even as a man if you believe men and women are equal, not cheer her on for that belief?

She knows, better than anyone that society’s unfair and it pisses her off, she’s very very angry, and it  seems to become her mission to not only get her personal revenge but in a way for every woman: 

“And if I get everything right, the world will hate Nick for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I'm ready, I'll go out on the water with a handful of pills and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body, they'll know: Nick Dunne dumped his beloved like garbage, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women.”

She knows how to use every advantage that being a woman could offer you: she can go from being a man ’s literal fantasy of what constitutes his perfect woman to his worst nightmare in the flinch of an eye.

She uses her sexuality to her advantage and when she benefits from adopting the tired and cliched female victim role to appear sympathetic and inspire pity she does that without blinking an eye.

Still, it begs the question, why did she stage her own disappearance and wanted to frame her husband for murder? Just to get back at him? It took her a lot of creativity, a crazy kind of creativity but still, she made her diary into a testament of an abusive relationship and she even provided the weapon she was supposedly assaulted with, I mean you need a lot of dedication…

As I said earlier Amy craves attention and love, and in her own fucked up way she thinks she’s now found that with Nick, and that she’s now finally on par with Amazing Amy, she has the perfect husband, the perfect life, she’s become the Amazing Amy fantasy.

The first few years of her marriage are wonderful, although it’s difficult to establish if Amy ever was in love (or if she was telling herself she was) but as I said she’s someone that craves loves and attention, or at least a simulation of love, and she absolutely can’t have it when her husband starts to ignore her and only pay attention to her when he sees fit.

Amy is someone you don’t put into a corner and that you simply don’t ignore. Now you could say there is such a thing as talking to someone and explaining how you feel, but all the times we see Amy trying to do that in the film, we see Nick brush her off, and you can feel her anger building, you understand why she is pissed off.

Not that it justifies taking revenge, but in a way you can understand Amy. Nick often is seen as the “good guy, who did nothing wrong” and well he’s not a murderer and he didn’t beat Amy, but the profiteers off of her.

She bought him the bar he works in, and all the expenses are on her own, if something has to be done he leaves it to the wife. He’s maybe not even attracted to her anymore at this point, Amy’s a security that he takes for granted, he also makes decisions without her: moving somewhere entirely new, without okaying it with her, you don’t do that… and if that’s not enough he has an affair too.

And that drives Amy mad; she forged the man of her dreams, but he slips back into a man she didn’t agree to be within her own words, but what bothers her most of all is maybe not what she sees as weak personality traits, it’s the being ignored, the being taken for granted, and being used as a commodity. She senses that it’s not ok, and it really isn’t, she feels that he sucks everything out of her, she’s not a person of her own anymore, there’s no dignity left.

And yet Amy has dignity because she sees this and doesn’t think it’s okay, she compares it to being murdered; and in a way that it is a fitting description, Nick killed her spirit, she feels wronged, scorn.

Only she has a more extreme reaction to it; she’s not going to let him just ignore her, she’s going to remind him who he’s dealing with, put him back in what he believes his place, but she even goes further than just a sharp reprimand, she’s going to make him fear her, make sure he’s forced to pay attention to her and forced to play happy family.

And while what she did after, essentially make it look like she was kidnapped, frame and murder a dude is definitely not okay, it’s messed up, it’s evil, Amy’s evil. But you can’t help but feel a little sorry for her.

She’s definitely mad, but how much of her madness is her fault? How much did what was demanded of her mess her up? Amy’s ruthless; but she comes across as vulnerable at times, almost as if she believes that doing what she’s doing will really make everything alright again, that she can get the man she loved back, it’s her own completely fucked up version of a romantic gesture.

And Amy and Nick are a very fucked up couple, now at first in the film, they come across as the perfect couple, but then you see the flaws and cracks in the design and there’s many.

And still when Amy disappears the way he screams “Amy!” implies the notion to some degree that they may be right for each other, that he cares about his wife somewhere, but he got lazy and didn’t show it often enough.

Which is again a reminder that romance is not always easy to work, you can’t be in a relationship and then think it’s gonna upkeep itself, and not nearly everyone has the strength of character for it. Which in a way maybe makes it a cautionary tale for the modern romance: don’t ignore your partner, because they may just go Amy Dunne on you.

All of what I’ve written doesn’t mean that I agree with Amy’s actions I don’t, not at all. But I think she’s far more complex than just psycho bitch.

she’s actually a very tragically complex character, she’s someone that was never shown how to be happy, never told that she has the right to be happy, and so she does everything to fabricate it in her own desperate way.

Say what you will about Amy as a female character; that she’s crazy, that she’s the devil in female form; dressing up as suburban housewife, but she is absolutely not boring, she’s a scary woman, and scary women exist, it’s just that we don’t often see them in television.

‘Gone Girl’s had to deal with plenty of misogyny claims, that it’s just another women are crazy film, but Fincher does care about Amy as a character, we do see moments that create empathy and sympathy towards her, you see and understand her pain.

She’s not just a spoiled, rich girl that goes on a feminist crusade, she’s not a good woman, not a role model and that’s fine because not all women are good. ‘Gone Girl’ deals with a lot of topics though.

It’s amongst many things a satire on the media, on media circuses and the mob mentality of it sometimes. People feel like they have the right to shred someone to pieces, without proof at times, hell as long as it makes them feel good and provides entertainment.

How it demonizes and destroys people sometimes without proof, there’s no proof that Nick killed his wife yet the whole of America hates him and they’re already tearing him apart. Or the way that Amy who killed someone and framed and ruthlessly plotted the demise of multiple people is heralded as “American heroine” because no one knows, she’s just made everyone fall into his web.

And how one moment the media tears you apart and the next moment it adores. It reminds me of what Ingrid Bergman once said:

"I've gone from saint to whore and back to saint again, all in one lifetime." 

Nick in the film, is at first hated, because it’s instantly supposed that he is a wife killer, just because of the way he uncomfortably smiles (my wife says he’s a killer).

How many times have people said, when they see a photo of a killer I knew it, he/she looks evil! At another point in the film, Nick basically admits publicly to being a shit husband and everyone loves him because admitted he’s an asshole, it shows that people can make or break someone’s reputation on a whim, without it necessarily being true.

These ideas are all present in the book too, but Fincher really adapted them well to the screen. ‘Gone Girl’ is truly a very cinematic film, seemingly very simple and low on special effects, but he really does do some interesting, visually impressive stuff.

The sequences that depict instances Amy describes in her diary, the films in a brilliant att way, these also have impressive use of voiceover, Rosamund Pike narrates in a way that’s chockfull of emotion, and that’s why it works so well.

Fincher’s shows us what she’s describing, and in a way, these scenes have a different feel than the rest of the film, they seem entirely rooted in reality, but at the same time there’s a sort of nightmarish haze them, something’s inherently disturbing in these scenes.

There are moments in her diary when Amy describes violence, her husband pushing her when Fincher shows it to us, it becomes a truly shocking moment, not that a woman being pushed on the ground isn’t shocking.

But here it truly feels realistically violent, he makes the violence of the scene stand out more by using a slow black fade, he makes sure that you’ve really seen it and that it’s burned on your retina for a while.

And the moments that depict the whole media circus are incredibly well done too, there’ s a scene in which an entire horde of journalists, is literally running behind Affleck’s character until he gets to his car, it’s a scene that still kind of stresses me out every time I see it, you really feel how stressful that is for someone.

Fincher does a fantastic job at placing the way a character feels into his film visually, when Amy first meets Nick, they kiss in outside a bakery that’s having its sugar delivered, and there’s a storm of it, and this scene really has something magical about it.

You buy the love story and the passion, shortly after this scene; Fincher cuts to Nick going down on Amy, apparently also controversial, people are still shocked about seeing a woman receive oral sex in a film, a little change is nice us for us ladies too sometimes, the opposite has been shown millions of time.

But Fincher does a fantastic job with this scene, not only is it’s lightning amazing, it’s dark, yet urban light streams into the room creating a very lovely effect. But he really shows the pleasure in the act of both characters, Amy lifts herself up and gaspingly says: Nick Dunne, I really like you. And you absolutely buy it.

The fairytale days are pictured fantastically, they’re not sickeningly sweet, it’s just two people very in love, we all recognize it, we’ve all been there. And then slowly the deteriorating sets in, passionately becomes emotionless, empty.

In a contrasting, brilliant sequence he shows us Amy’s heart is broken, she sees her husband outside of the bakery where they met, doing the exact same thing that he did with her on their first date, to this other woman. And you really get the sense that it’s not so much about the act of cheating, it’s that he’s sharing something personal, that was between the two of them with someone else, we feel Amy’s heartbreaking in that sequence.

Fincher’s famous yellow light is present in this one too (it bothers me with his work sometimes, after a while it seems to all have the same feel visually) but the whole of Gone Girl is incredibly vibrant when it comes to the colours and lighting, it’s seemingly simple, but when it uses dramatic effects, it’s done brilliantly and paired greatly with affecting music, that further strengthens the emotion of a scene.

However, I feel like I should say that the real star of the film is undoubtedly Rosamund Pike as Amy, the girl, woman that it’s all about. Her presence is not always that obvious in the film; throughout the first half of the film, she’s present for only a bit, and then it’s basically just Affleck and flashbacks of Amy, but even then it’s her film, her presence predominates every scene in the film.

It’s got to be said that Affleck also does a good job, Nick Dunne’s not an easy character to play, and while he’s a character that’s not instantly likeable you do after a while become to sympathise with him, he plays Nick perfectly; he’s difficult to read, he seems to miss his wife, but there also seems to be some indifference present. 

He’s weary, tired, and seems lethargic throughout the film, exactly like you think a person that’s being persecuted and whose wife has disappeared would act. I definitely think it’s some Affleck’s best work. But Pike steals some of his spotlights.

Now Pike’s talent has been recognized, before this, she was always good in all the roles that I’ve seen her in, but she never had that much to sink her teeth into. Amy’s the character that has really allowed her to display her talent, not only did she put lots of work into the role: she read all the books Flynn recommended she read, and she also put work into adopting a handwriting that would fit Amy’s character.

Pike can transform here both physically and emotionally, and she does much more than the classic gaining or losing weight although she does that, and it’s not simply letting herself go either, there’s a pre disappearance and after disappearance Amy.

Amy’s an elegant stylish woman, yet in her anger and as part of her plan, she just completely lets herself go, she eats junk food, barely takes care of her physical appearance and just has a general air of sadness.

And in one scene she’s sweet when she tells Nick about her parent’s money troubles and what it will mean for them, or when she tells Nick she wants a child, these are all touching moments.

And then she snaps, and just brutally kills a man, she’s methodical, efficient, merciless, like a Greek goddess, she can be perfectly sexy one moment, and then she can literally annihilate anyone that stands in her way or that makes her feels threatened. 

It’s a truly shocking image, and Pike is perfectly unpredictable throughout, the best thing about her performance is that not only does she manipulate and set other characters to her will, and in a way scarily enough, she manipulates us too.

‘Gone Girl’s scariest message, is that everything is about perception, we see things, they seem a certain way and then we come to our own conclusions, sometimes we may be right and other times we may be right, at other times if we jump to conclusions too quickly, we might create terrible consequences. 

And then the scariest of all, even when we’re with someone and we love them, and though we feel like we know them inside out, they’re still a completely different person, they’re own person, with their own world inside of them and ‘Gone Girl’s seems to insistently whisper that it’s all advised to forget and disrespect that.

“When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other? What will we do?”

#gone girl #gone girl 2014 #gone girl movie #david fincher #gillian flynn #rosamund pike #ben affleck #neil patrick harris #tyler perry #carry coon #kim dickens #patrick fugit #trent reznor #atticus ross #jeff cronenweth #kirk baxter #crime #drama #mystery #romance #movies #films #movie review #film review #film analysis #cinema #filmista

[beet-rootesoupevodkabanya]

Post-apocalypse military AU.

The beginning of the end XD. Of course nobody died for real. As a true fairytale it’ll end up fine. Actually it’s still raw... FML. I never stayed up at night even for exames or anything... Snow King can be proud. For his bday I do. X3

Sound of shooting stops accidentally. But now tinkling silence isn't an evidence of the end of the battle or at least of a break. It means only that one more line is over. Nothing to hope on. They are locked here. Not so many. Less the 200 people. Last examples of experienced fighters. Of the 1st breed. Ones who still remember and realize the world before the catastrophe. Enemies could never do it by themselves. But... No connection to other Bases or Safe Zones. Blocked channels. Blocked information supports for using air armor. Emergency ways to escape locked from outside... It's too obvious. Safe Zone thrown them away. To die and let the piece agreement happen. Снежный Король sits on the windowsill. Video security system allows to watch what's going on on other floors. He clicks the lighter and inhales the smoke. The stream of death... General widens the picture. Koshey team. All dead. Through blurred monitor it's still rather obvious. They all did as decided on a short urgent meeting in the beginning of this fight. Killed as many attackers as they could until ran out of cartridges. And left 4 bullets. One for every teammate. Nobody here is going to get captured anyway. Red cloud on the floor. She tried to grow up her hair because her lover always had long and was curious. Now it's almost beautiful. They lay on the floor hugging each other. Bloody carpet is a continuation of Mila's locks. The 4 of them are tangled in her red cloak. The Black Shark could be enough to win even in this unpleasant situation. But it was found broken badly. Traitors weren't able to make it work. This weird thing was unspeakably moody. And could literally kill anyone but Sara who ever tried to drive it. So they simply torn away and took with them some parts. All vans and other heavy technique were out of patrol.

[Good work, fucking piecemakers. Now wait until they invade and ruin that fragile illusion that U call stable daily life.]

Yuuri rushes in. Stupidly giggling and shrugging the blood away from his sword. The ceremonial weapon that isn't supposed to be used in battles... Shere Khan smirks licking the blade of the knife. What are they so agitated about?.. It wasn't even necessary to get into this (meaningless according to the situation) close combat. Werewolf (actually werebear if to be exact) reads his usual cards on the table. No, not tactical. Tarot cards. He frowns and raises eyes on commander. In normally calm beastly depth burns silent panic. It's not a fear of things that happen here. It's about something he reads on the desk. - Sir... They can't say anything. Or better to admit - they can but... I'm unable to read it. I see... But don't understand. - And I don't understand this... - the voice of Snow King is quiet. He wipes the wall with a white bandage. The air around is gloomy because of terminal fire and explosions. The bandage stays clean. General's statement could seem inopportune. But his subordinate knows too well they both are talking about the same phenomenon. - Ask them... - General closes eyes for a moment in strange hopeless hope. - Is it possible we all are dead or something... And the world around us is an illusion. Lieutenant Altyin looks at cards and bitterly waves his head. - Then only one explanation... The physical characteristics of our world had changed. I mean globally. In planetary measures. Or even more... Well... I guess it's better to die without seeing what other gameplays the ecosystem prepared for us... - Victor shrugs shoulders, smiling with a kind of lost expression. He has not enough reasons for this theory. But he feels it, knows by blood and cells. Like he knew where to step and when to shoot in a battle. The knowledge that became sharper day by day. Yuuri leans to his Snow King from behind. His blood-stained hands sneak under the t-shirt. He doesn't ask questions but the black, half-blind abyss of his eyes radiates excitement. As if he is in hurry to share as much happiness with his Yuki no Kami as it's possible for the rest short time. - Sir... - Werewolf's intonations are almost begging. - Sir, promise me... Promise us. U will be...careful... - Eh?! Something funny about our old man there? - Major Plisetsky sits near, wrapping an arm on Beka's shoulders. He snorts but they all know he is worried. Capitan looks in green eyes, intertwining their fingers. Then turns to commander: - Cards say U are surrounded by the love. U're loved, admired... U're the chosen one always. And in our situation this is the last thing that is logical to appear in a prediction. But damn it... I don't even see the death in your future... I see the throne of the world. And I understand nothing... Yuuri sneaks under commander's arm, clinging to him with a puppy-like sound. He doesn't say anything but Snow King knows his sudden fear too well. He caresses boy's lips with a thumb: - We will die together. Today. Here. He explains it reassuringly and a bit tiredly. As an adult talking a child not to be scared of the thunderstorm. Yuuri nods and nuzzles Snow King's shoulder giggling.

The explosion chain is very close.

Снежный leaves the monitor. It's not important anymore. The four of them are the last experienced martials able to go on line. But whatever will happen to the Safe Zone isn't their problem now. He smiles at his teammates. Shortly and bitterly: - Time to go... General takes out the glock. The only one that keeps 4 sacred bullets. No right for a mistake. He nods to Angry Kitty. It's like a selfi. One click and a moment will be kept for the eternity. No time to say a lot to each other. And no need to. Deep inside they all know. Shere Khan grins and winks to Snow King while Beka is suddenly distracted with something on his cards left on the table. (Is it even important what's said there?) Grabs his collar and pulls his friend and partner for a kiss. First real one for them both. Оборотень falls into thin but unexpectedly strong arms staring in green ponds and trying to say something through the tight lean of warm lips.

Bang.

Bang.

Snow King drops the hand with the gun. - Always in vanguard... Шустрый засранец. / Fast little shit. - He mutters it with a short snort. These two had no time to fall on the floor. Yuuri catches them both and puts on the sofa. (He is fast. He became faster during years here.) They lay the way they often did. The way nobody would believe if to say or show a domestic picture. Beka laying on Yurio's shoulder. Kitty always was more a protective and Beka - a supportive one in their tandem. Snow King often laughed at Yurio that they're kicked out from an another fairytale - Beauty and the Beast. And the Beast here is of course Shere Khan. Kitty fizzed and hissed but obviously liked the idea until Оборотень began to mutter that he isn't a decent Beauty even if he is ready to wear a golden dress for his precious Beast. "But it will cause blood from your eyes, believe me..." And Yurio bit and kicked him and yelled: "U are beautiful, fuck my life! I fucking know better." Beka himself mostly laughed that they are more like a forest Witch and Ivan-tsarevich who was tamed by her. Victor often corrected: "Not just tsarevich. More like Иван-дурак/Ivan the dumb..." And Kitty yelled and sniffed until one day he finally resoluted: - Yes, tsarevich, because the son of the King. Yes, дурак, потому что весь в мать/ because like mother, like son." Yuuri fell on the floor laughing first. After some time Beka began to giggle. And only in the evening the realization hit their King too. And he set on the balcony with a cigarette muttering: - Сообразил бля, пизденыш... / What an idea, little shit...

Bullets went through heads but the blood streams down from the wounds, soaking the coach. It's not obvious yet. And seems as if they can wake up any moment. Снежный gets up, walks close and touches the pulse. It's not necessary, but he can't leave it unchecked. Even if everything is obvious. Yurio seems aggressively glad even in his death. He is still short and thin like a girl. He always cursed and promised to grow taller then his commander. He won't. They won't get to know if he would grow tall for real or would stay being this tiny grace. Yuuri cups General's face and smiles. Gently and possessively. Like noone but him ever could: - We'll keep up with them. Snow King sloppily nods pulling his boy closer. The unclear thought is tossing somewhere deep into the brain. But all that hurry, explosions and endless shit don't leave it a chance to be formed. Is it something Beka wanted to say? Anyway there's no time to think about it anymore. He caresses Yuuri's cheek, looks into black abyss and forgets everything. They have less then a couple of minutes. - I'm sorry, малыш... What else to say?... The boy clings to his General with a happy laugh. Rises head looking from beneath and smiles. Mischievously. And playfully. He wants to say he was happy for all these years with him. He was overwhelmed with love to this man since early childhood. Since the first time he saw this the most beautiful face ever. He admired the winter seeing him in every snowflake. Снежный Король filled his entire existence with the meaning and multiple colors even if for others it seemed to the monotonous white. Kay knows better than anyone: only the white keeps all other spectrums and shades. Only in arms of his King and in the middle of the winter desert he felt on the right place. Of course the boy has no time or even suitable words to express it. But Snow King will understand. He always reads it through touches. Yuuri hungrily leans to these soft and tender lips: - I love U. I always wanted to die with U and from your hand. What's more can I wish for? - Stupid kid... - sighs General. It's not obvious from the side but this patronizing tone is flirty. Yuuri, his shy, anxious, naive berserk always was weirdly protective. But not of that annoying type of countless fans who dreamed to see him broken to have a chance to pity him. No. It always was a different protectiveness. Reliable and loyal like walls of your own home. He became the Ivory Tower locking his Sow King in a trap he would rather die then leave. The boy clings closer and deepens the kiss, sneaking under the t-shirt. Sly sparkles in a black abyss become only brighter: - What I really regret - that we don't have time to make love now. I'd be happy to die like this. Victor smiles, digging fingers into dark silk and bites his lip. Yuuri moans, scratching his back under black fabric. Splinters of the northern sky are sad. But tender: - I love U, Kay. Cold steel touches boy's temple. Yuuri smiles leaning to it with that very euphoric expression he always had melting in Snow King's caress.

Frosted finger slowly presses the trigger.

So familiar, so loved body turns into a heavy doll falling into arms of it's master. Victor slowly lays his boy on the floor near the windowsill. They often set there in winter hugging each other and sharing one cigarette in a stupid hope the smoke will be blown away into the open window. Legs are heavy... Too heavy to go with Yuuri to the better place. And... It's fine like this. The entire world drowns into a crimson mist. It begins from boy's temple and wraps his King and everything around into the tightest embrace without a way to set yourself free. But he never ever wanted to get out of it anyway. General Snow King checks up the heartbeat in Yuuri's chest. Silent. He leans to still warm but motionless lips, blindly turns on the final countdown on a self-destruction system. And presses the trigger, aiming into silver locks. Snow King falls on the chest of his Kay. Blood stained lips of the boy still keep a shadow of a smile.

#have fun dear Feli!😉😘✨ #I feel no better then these four... XD

[luci-is-a-devil-]

Dragon!Soonyoung

Notes: I actually had written this yesterday but I accidentally deleted it! So after screaming for a while, I rewrote it! Think it came out better, but we'll never know. Requests are open! •you lived in a cave, on a mountain, by yourself •this wasn't how you thought your life would turn out, but that what had happened •you are a dragon, and while you can use magic to turn your body to look like a human •it doesn't last very long, only eight hours, and that's if you were completely healthy •when you were in a human form, you were allowed to roam the streets, just as a human would •you could even make human friends! •which was a blessing and a curse, as you could only see them for a few hours a day •and then you would have to return to you cave, be in solitude for the remainder of the day •of course their would be dragon hunters, who wanted your scales or horns •that's why you were all alone after all, hunters had killed your mother and taken her body •you were most likely the last of your kind •and it terrified you to no end that one day you'd die and that would be the end of the dragons • •Fridays were the best day to go to to the village nearby •all of the friends you had made were there usually, all at the bar where they could get drunk and forget when you left •your human form was strange compared to other humans though, since you were a dragon •your hair was a dark purple, and your teeth were sharper than most humans •and your eyes were a silver color, which you could easily say was with the use of contacts •you had mastered the way of pretending to be a normal human •except for the way you spoke, and the way you weren't used to games that humans played in their childhood •the games you had played were about learning how to fly, or how to hunt for food •walking into the bar, you looked around for your group •spotting jun's purple hair that matched yours, you walked over to them •slinging your arm around Minghao's neck, you said hello to the group that had gathered around •"y/n! Glad you could make it!" •the bartender, mingyu happily said wiping a glass •laughing at him, you waved back as you sat down next to minghao •"didn't expect to see you here today, y/n." •Joshua said, smiling as he played a card game with Seungcheol •"wasn't sure if I was coming down, but I'm here now." •you said back to the brunette, turning your eyes to where wonwoo was sitting at the bar, talking to mingyu •"is mingyu really that clueless or is he just faking it now?" •you whispered to minghao, who shook his head laughing •"he's faking the hell out of it, he wants wonwoo to confess first" •Joining him at laughing at wonwoo's pain, you joined in conversation with Seungcheol and jeonghan who was cheating at black jack now •laughing at the obvious cheating that was going on, you thought everything was fine and dandy •before someone slammed the twin doors open, they hit the wall, making everyone's eyes turn toward the culprit •"we have reason to believe that not all the dragons are dead, that they might be hiding as humans." •a man explained, as he smirked toward your direction •as if he knew that you were here •looking at the members of the group, you waited to see what they would do, how'd they would respond •"alright, we'll be on the lookout then. Have a nice day." •Seungcheol said to the man, making himself appear larger •"…you too." •with one last glance and a smirk at you, he left the bar •there was a pause before the bar returned to the loudness from before •"hey hao? I gotta run. Bye" •you spoke quickly, leaving no room for him to speak •standing up from your chair, you could feel the gaze of people on you •taking long strides to get the door quickly, you opened them •only to have your wrist grabbed by the man who walked into the bar earlier •"I knew it was you. A dragon, more like a sitting duck." •he scoffed, holding your wrist tightly, as if you wouldn't be able to escape •looking at the group, the friends you had made, you saw the concern in their eyes but fear was first •tearing your eyes away from the group, you allowed yourself to be dragged outside •he pulled out a gun, saying that this was the same gun that killed your mom •"are you a fucking idiot?" •you asked, glaring at him •when he began to laugh, you scoffed at him and kicked him in the shins •making him let go of your wrist, once he did, you returned to your original form •your dragon self towered over him, making him shriek •choosing not to harm him, instead using this chance to escape •getting off of the ground, you flapped your wings, creating quite the breeze •flying away from everything you've ever known, you left •you flew for as long as you could, until your wings ached and your eyes couldn't stay open •you landed on a grassy field, and slept, deciding that whatever happened, happened • •feeling little toes on your tail, you started to shake awake •turning your head around so you could see what, or who was crawling on you •there a few kids were around you, climbing and dancing around your body •letting a soft roar, telling them that you were alive •the children scrambled to get off of you, and once they did you stood up •stretching your body, hearing bones crack as you moved them into place •a little girl was looking at you wide eyed, her thumb was in her mouth •"why were you sleeping on the ground?" •she asked, tilting her head to the side, the kids around her nodded, agreeing with her question •looking at them, you sighed and took a nail to draw in the dirt •drawing a more pg picture of what happened, the kids gasped as you explained •"why would he do that?" •the boy who had been climbing on you asked, sounding very offended •shrugging, you sighed once more, thinking of where you could go •they continued to ask questions, and you continued to answer them, they grew silly as they asked if you could breathe fire •of course you couldn't, you were purple, not red •you couldn't explain in great detail but a different little girl interrupted the boy who had asked •"nope! Dragons have powers according to the color of their scales. So they have magic, like spells! Kind of like a dragon witch!" •she said twirling around, her hair was a mess, it had leaves and pieces of grass in it •her clothes resembled her hair, dirty and had other stains on them •"kids! Get away from that beast!" •a male voice yelled, far away from where you were •the kids looked around for the voice, only to find a teenager running towards you •"soonyoung!" •the little girl who knew a lot about dragons yelled, running toward him •she hugged his legs, to where she reached •"soonyoung" quickly picked her up, and tried to grab the other kids •"get away from them" •the boy said, glaring at you •the girl with messed up ponytails and dirty clothes wiggled out of his arms and ran over to you •"their a nice dragon! Don't hurt them soonyoung!" •she yelled, putting her arms out as wide as she could to protect you •"yeah!" •"don't hurt them!" •"you meanie!" •the kids yelled, standing in front of your huge body •giggling at their innocence, you turned into a human, with wings though •using your wings to cover your naked body, you thanked the kids •all of their eyes were wide, as you had just turned into a HuMaN •"you're welcome!" •messy haired girl said, her eyes closed as she smiled at you •the boy was still staring at you, before running his fingers through his black hair •"you won't hurt them?" •he asked, his voice hesitant •shaking your head, you gently smiled at him hoping that would ease his worry •"can you come home with us?" •the messy haired girl, who introduced herself as jimin asked •shrugging you agreed, making the children cheer •walking along the path, to wherever they were leading you, you looked around •the path was dirt, with grass on the sides, flowers were blooming unlike where you had come from •so you flew pretty far •"what's your name?" •the boy who climbed asked, stopping as he turned to face you •"me? I'm y/n." •you said pointing at yourself, continuing walking •the kids would run up and down the hill, except for jimin who held your hand •soonyoung was following behind, probably making sure you didn't eat them or something •when you made it to the village, where the kids dispersed as soon as they walked through the walls •"cmon y/n! I'll show you my room." •jimin said, tugging on your hand •following her once more, you looked around, trying to see if there was any landmarks •there were a few signs, but nothing with information •"we're here!" •jimin said happily, letting go of your arms as she took off her shoes and ran inside •following her lead, you cast a spell to clean your feet •stepping inside the house, the first thing you saw was that the curtains didn't match, and there wasn't a door in the room jimin was in •"soonyoung and I share a room! But he lets my keep all my dragon toys out!" •she said pointing out the dragons that littered the room •White paint was chipping off of the walls, making you raise an eyebrow at soonyoung •"hey Minnie, can you play while y/n and I have a talk?" •soonyoung asked bending down to jimin's level, so they were eye to eye •she looked at him for a second before whispering something in his ear •he nodded and she agreed, sitting on her mattress that didn't have any blankets on it •stepping into the living room, you sat on the floor far away from the bedroom •he came out of the room, with a shirt and a pair of sweatpants •throwing them at you, he turned around and said to get dressed •his ears were red, making you laugh at his innocence •putting on the clothes he gave, you told him you were done once you sat back down on the floor •"listen, I don't know what you want with my sister, but you better not be planning anything. She doesn't need anyone else leaving her." •he spoke quietly, his words blunt though •you nodded, thinking of how you could explain that you weren't trying to do anything •"when I was young my mother was killed, by a dragon hunter. I'm pretty sure I'm the last of my kind, believe me in not trying to let the dragon blood line die out." •you replied hoping that he would believe you, that you held no underlying revenge plot •that all you wanted was to not be alone •he nodded, and for the first time he smiled •his eyes closed into little crescents, his cheeks popping out like a hamsters •"you didn't kick her out! You're part of the day family y/n!" •jimin yelled, hopping on your now clothed body •laughing at soonyoung's attempt if scolding the young girl, your heart doing little flip flops at her words • •with each day, soonyoung trusted you more •you had explained that you could only be in a human form for so long, before your body could take it anymore •so you'd stay up in the fields, until sunrise, where you'd walk to the house to make breakfast and get jimin ready for school •you'd all eat together, than you would walk jimin to school, while soonyoung went to work at a nearby bakery •you'd return to the fields, and become a dragon, so you wouldn't waste energy •when it was time, you'd walk back to the village to pick up jimin from school and bring her home •then the two of you would play, do homework and cook dinner •soonyoung would return, and you would eat dinner •once dinner was over, soonyoung and jimin would take a shower and get ready for bed •and then soonyoung and you would put jimin to bed •just like tonight •you flopped on the hard wooden floor •letting out a sigh, you closed your eyes •"hey don't go to sleep, I don't want a dragon shaped hole in the roof tomorrow." •soonyoung said, drying his hair with a towel •flipping him off, which made him laugh at your pathetic comeback •he laid down next to you, making your heart speed up •"remember when we met? Who would have though you'd be helping me take care of jimin?" •he said, his eyes closed as he whispered, not wanting to wake up the sleeping eight year old •"I know, you looked like you wanted to skin me." •you replied, looking up at the ceiling which had a hole right where you were laying •allowing you to see the stars as the two of you joked around •"y/n? What was life like before you met us? Where did you live?" •he asked, sounding sleepy •"well, I lived in a cave. And would go down to a nearby village to converse with the humans. They were strange, always complaining about nothing ever happening." •you spoke carefully, choosing your words slowly •he hummed, and waited for you to continue •"the bartender, Mingyu, liked the librarian, wonwoo but was waiting for him to confess. Then there was Seungcheol who owned a small market, he was dating Joshua and jeonghan. And minghao and jun who came from a far away village." •talking about them made you miss them, miss the small inside jokes, the laughing at wonwoo's pining over mingyu •you missed it all •"maybe we can visit one day." •soonyoung said before falling asleep, his breathing evening out •"yeah, maybe we can." •tip toeing inside of the bedroom, you grabbed his blanket •putting it on him, you smiled and went outside •walking to the fields, you stripped off the clothes that soonyoung gave you that first day •putting them under a nearby tree, you turned into a dragon •curling up on the grass, you fell asleep, the memory of soonyoung and jimin making you smile • •waking up, you could tell that something was off •the smell of the air felt different •using the spell you used every day, you turned into a human •getting dressed, you rushed to the house •entering the house, you felt even more wrong •the house which had become a home to you, felt cold •"looking for someone, y/n?" •a cold voice spoke to you, the same one who made you flee your old house •"what did you do to them, Seonho?" •you asked, voice wavering as you asked •"looks like Little dragon fell in love, tough luck. Your time is over." •he grabbed you by the wing, making sure that you couldn't rip it out of his grasp this time •dragging you to the square, where you saw soonyoung and jimin, their hands tied •"this is y/n! Child of Theo, who murdered an entire village." •he yelled, getting everyone's attention •"Liar, that was you seonho. You needed a scape goat." •you responded, not caring when he raised his hand and slapped you •"No manners! An unruly dragon, what happens when they become like their mother?" •he spoke with such a bravado, like he was doing such good work •snorting, you chuckled as he tried to feed nonsense into these people's minds •"that's where you're wrong seonho, I won't be like her. I won't be killed by the likes of you." •he removed his hand off of your wing as he went to hit you once more •quickly dodging it, you ran to where jimin and soonyoung was •untying the rope, you picked jimin up and ran, trusting soonyoung to follow you •hearing many footsteps behind you, but knowing he was there, you pushed yourself harder •running up to the field you put jimin down •"get on me and hold in tight!" •you spoke with an urgency, not bothering to take off your clothes, you took the spell off •turning you back to a dragon •feeling jimin quickly climb on you, and soonyoung making his way onto your back •"GET THEM!" •Seonho yelled, mobs of people running after you •once soonyoung sat down, you took off •flying as quickly as you could, until the field became a speck •you could hear soonyoung comforting jimin as she cried • •they had both fallen asleep on the journey, but once you had landed, jimin woke up •she shook her brother awake as they looked around •"y/n, where are we?" •soonyoung asked hopping down from your back, and then catching jimin who did the same •"this is the bar." •you answered once you transformed into a human, your body exhausted but this was the only way to respond •seeing your naked body, soonyoung stripped of the hoodie he was wearing, giving it to you •smiling at him in thanks you grabbed jimin's hand •walking into the bar, you saw the group there, just as you left them •except mingyu wasn't behind the counter, he was sitting on wonwoo's lap, staring at the three of you • •"we need your help."

#Seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen scenario #kpop au #kpop scenarios #koreabooeauty #kwon soonyoung #Kim mingyu #jeon wonwoo #xu minghao #wen junhui #choi Seungcheol #Joshua Hong #yoon jeonghan #dragon au