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captnjacksparrow · 3 years

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I just got into the fandom and I love it so much. However, there are parts where I just cringe. I’m going to be completely honest when I say I can’t see SS being a thing, a healthy one at that. A rumor said that Sasuke always had feelings for Sakura but he didn’t know how to show them because hatred blinded him. I just... find it utterly bullshit. Hell, even I do ship narusasu, I tried to be open minded and not fall too far off canon or the characters. I don’t understand how Sasuke had those feelings for her when all he did was shown the opposite and it felt genuine. He seem always annoyed and pushes her away. She kept forcing her feelings on him when he makes it clear that he’s not interested. I don’t hate the ship because it’s not my ship but because it’s extremely toxic. It feels one-sided (Sakura’s side) more than anything and it’s makes it hard to believe he had those feelings for her. I mean, on the second episode of season five, she confessed and poured out her heart and he blew it off. I cringed hard and was beyond disappointed because she’s making it about herself. That’s literally how I feel about their damn “relationship”. She made it about her and her only. When he’s hurting, it’s about her. It’s so annoying and it makes me see how self-centered Sakura. When she said she understood Sasuke, I wanted to scream (I nearly did but my family is sleeping and I don’t need a lecture.) She doesn’t know Jackshit about Sasuke besides he’s the only survivor of his decease clan, he’s a loner who cares only about himself, and he’s attractive. She’s just like every other fangirl expect she’s on his team. I’m trying my best not to hate her but Damn she’s really pushing it. Anything that annoyed me was that she made it seem like they were dating, again making it about herself and her feelings. She sent Naruto to get Sasuke for her benefits, so she can keep him. Again, disregarding Sasuke’s feelings and what he wanted. Naruto should’ve said “I’ll bring him back because HE wants too, to keep HIM safe, not for you.” I just can’t with this ship. I’m still wondering why the hell is it even a thing? Also find it beyond pitiful how she stayed with Sasuke in Boruto when he left for 12-13 years?! No note. No checking up. Nothing. Hell, Sarada doesn’t know how her own father looks like or the truth of her mother. Both of them were miserable and I find it absolutely ridiculous when SS shippers still say “they’re in love” or they’re OTP. If that’s what true love looks like (good thing it’s not), then I’d die single. I can’t be the only one who thinks this ship is just as bad as Harley Quinn x Joker.

First off, Thanks for this lovely ask @larrycherry04 ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I've always wanted to write about this and your ask is the perfect timing.

Disclaimer: SS shippers, Sakura fans!!! Don’t read this post!!

Me being an SNS shipper, I am just going to write this from a non-SNS perspective. Meaning, I am going to consider Naruto and Sasuke are just friends or rivals.

Bear with my lengthy answer.

Where do I even begin?

A rumor said that Sasuke always had feelings for Sakura but he didn’t know how to show them because hatred blinded him.

I think this rumor is from a light novel called Akatsuki Hiden or whatever shit. But for me, it looks like a pathetic attempt to convince those horny women shippers who would pay any money to read a romance which mirrors their own love life where they desire an ‘unreachable & handsome’ man who has this ‘cool & overbearing’ aura and carries this ‘bad boy badass’ vibe. They would do anything to get the attention from this boy. Until this point is where the reality ends.

What they really wants to happen and fantasize is somehow that handsome man, one day, will look only them and recognize their love and becomes a ‘soft’ guy who would bring the heavens for them and treats her like a princess. That fantasy led them to buy these novels and believe everything while completely disregarding the canon material. And those novels are aimed at these type of women.

You must have been wondering now, ‘I have seen these type of shit somewhere’!!!!!

That’s right.

50 Shades of Grey, Twilight, Beauty and the Beast, 100′s of K-Drama, C-Drama follow this shit romance trope and it’s regrettably fucking popular.

In other words, Don’t believe anything apart from the canonic resources.

Let’s dissect the canon materials about SS.

TEAM 7

This is how it all started

Does anyone see anything positive here????

Well, I am not.

Sakura wanted to impress Sasuke. Since, Naruto always picks fight with Sasuke, she badmouthed Naruto in the hopes that Sasuke will recognize some common ground with her which may develop into a friendship. But she shot her own foot.

[Regardless, I hated her here and she never redeemed herself, for her being completely insensitive & oblivious towards Sasuke’s life, the boy she loves]

Technically, Sasuke should have said ‘You’re Annoying’ towards Naruto for kissing him before the class and tying him up later. Here, Sakura is simply badmouthing another guy. He, somehow, find this very annoying than anything Naruto did earlier.

Sasuke always had feelings for Sakura but he didn’t know how to show them because hatred blinded him.

Am definitely not seeing any feelings here.

ZABUZA ARC

Alright, much later, somehow Sasuke started to integrate into team 7 and started to see them as a Family. No denial here. He started to care about everyone in his team at some point. Which was evident from the way he thought to himself, ‘That was Sakura’s voice... What is Kakashi doing?’

But does it means he hopelessly fell in love with her??? Nope.

It’s just a team camaraderie where he was worried about his teammate. If he has special feelings towards her, he should have said ‘I must go save Sakura’ or something along the line.

But, later in that episode, he went on to die for Naruto and even at his dying moments he didn’t think about Sakura or Team 7. It was all about someone else.

Even seconds before falling into Naruto’s arms, Sasuke was smiling with no regrets.

It was funny very later that after he got up from his temporary death, rather than consoling her like ‘Sakura, Don’t cry. Am alright’ or anything, he was asking ‘Where’s Naruto?’. LOL.

Even much later, when Sakura was asking him about a date, he bluntly said ‘I refuse’.

So, you’re telling me, throughout this arc, a boy blinded with hatred can able to pout, play childish games, train and die for a boy but when it comes to Sakura he can’t show his feelings???

Sorry, I don’t see romance here. Not in this arc.

Whether you agree or not, every parent has their favorite child, every child has their favorite parent. Even within your family, you always have a special person.

For Sasuke, Itachi was that person in his real family. Sakura was not that person in his Team 7 family. It was Naruto.

CHUNIN EXAMS ARC

This arc is where those SS shippers celebrates a lot and I know why. Remember earlier I talked about that shitty 50 Shades of Grey romantic trope??? The following scene vaguely falls under that pattern.

A guy loses his control because of a cursed seal and beats up the guys who hurt one of his teammates which happens to be a girl and calms down after seeing the girl.

That Infamous back hug.

I understand why SS people lose their mind with that scene. And I don’t blame them. I am going to throw their own proof at them.

So, this First databook, tells us that he finally sees both Naruto and Sakura as comrades and his heart softens from the path of revenge, a little bit.

Definitely, Sakura’s tears or love towards him stopped his rampage. But nothing says about whether Sasuke loves her back.

Much later, Sasuke also stops his cursed seal on his own after thinking about worried Sakura and a screaming Naruto (Who don’t know about this seal thingy at that time).

Well, whatever. That databook has another funny fact, that too in the same page.

LOL. Weird!!!! This accidental kiss unravels Sasuke’s heart ❤️❤️???? 🤣🤣🤣

So, influencing Sasuke’s heart can be attributed to both his teammates,according to this databook. Atleast upto this arc. There are no special feelings for Sakura alone, guys.

Proof?

If Sasuke really considers her in a romantic light (this is after that back hug), he doesn’t have to do this at all. Believe me, Love is all about subconsciously or purposefully enjoying or feeling little touches. Those touches can be through eyes, memories or physical. Sakura is delighted with his touch because she loves him but Sasuke just see her as a comrade and keeping his distance but this time very politely.

If Kishi really likes these couple, he doesn’t have to make this scene at all. It’s not just this one instance, he rejected her twice very bluntly before this saying ‘Don’t cling to me!!!’, ‘Sakura, you’re heavy!!!’.

If you say her back hug is a token of romance, then I can say ‘this’ kiss is also a token of romance. You can’t ignore one while keeping the other.

Anyways, at the end of the arc, Orochimaru is the best judge to identify who can change Sasuke’s heart. And that person is not Sakura.

DEPARTURE

she confessed and poured out her heart and he blew it off. I cringed hard and was beyond disappointed because she’s making it about herself. That’s literally how I feel about their damn “relationship”. She made it about her and her only. When he’s hurting, it’s about her. It’s so annoying and it makes me see how self-centered Sakura. When she said she understood Sasuke, I wanted to scream (I nearly did but my family is sleeping and I don’t need a lecture.) She doesn’t know Jackshit about Sasuke besides he’s the only survivor of his decease clan, he’s a loner who cares only about himself, and he’s attractive.

You know what, Larry??? You are 1000% right.

But, atleast, I thought she was genuine in the first part of the proposal, like saying ‘Revenge is not good’.....bla bla.. Because, Revenge will never satisfy a person completely and I agree. Then she took a 180 degree by saying ‘Take me with you, Sasuke-Kun. I’ll make you happy’. This is where I lost it entirely. ‘Alright Bitch, So you really don’t care about his revenge or health. As long as you have the chance to get inside his pants, you are okay with it. So you are okay with Sasuke going to Orochimaru as long as you are with him..... Fucking Shit!!!!’ This is not okay at all.

How did Sasuke respond?

“Why should I have to tell you anything”

“I’m telling you to keep your nose out of my business”

“Stop bothering me over everything I do”

Ummm..... where I come from, this screams ‘Irritation’ to me. Added to it, throughout the whole conversation he never saw her face. There was evidently no pain or anything from his face. On top the cake, here comes the cherry

“You really are...annoying”

This is where he saw her face throughout that painful confession before knocking her out. Umm... When you love someone or atleast feel for someone, you will look in their eyes and speak some farewell words before you leave. Or atleast show some pain??? There’s visibly nothing from Sasuke’s face.

Alright, I know what SS wankers will pull out here. That Databook 2 with some vague words. I am going to throw this at them.

Again, like I acknowledged before, he considers her as a comrade and part of a family. So, her existence also eased his loneliness. But you have to look at the word choice here. “The one that filled his lonely existence was Sakura”. It’s not the ‘Only’ person. Before he left he said ‘Thanks’. Meaning, Thanks for all these days. That’s all between us.

This piece was about the Team 7 picture. So he acknowledges, he was not alone during his genin days because of his companions and Kakashi (so it’s not just Sakura to ease his loneliness). Whatever he said to Sakura was real.

So can we safely confirm “You’re annoying” is real????

But what’s really interesting is the way Sasuke projects himself before Naruto. I am going to refrain myself from attaching all those rollercoaster of emotions flowed throughout the fight in VoTE 1. Otherwise, it will become an SNS post.

However, this particular scene caught my attention.

Ummm.... Initially Sasuke walks without looking at Naruto. Then he looks back and answers him.

Naruto was pretty much asking the same question as Sakura. “Why does it come to this?”

But Sasuke pauses and surprised for a moment and asks him pretty much “Why do you care about me?”

Why couldn’t Sasuke do the same with Sakura???? Kishi can pretty much make a panel or two rather than making some insulting panels.

Anyways, If they throw the databook, then I can also throw the same.

Alright, can someone explain the highlighted sentence for me???? Because I want to confirm whether I have a blurry vision.

Here, Sasuke is trying to punctuate Naruto as a different person from the rest of his companions. ‘his companions as well as that with Naruto’, I mean, Come on!!!! Naruto is also one of your companions along with Sakura. Why differentiate????

‘The village, companions, Naruto,....’ . Again....He is differentiating his home (village), companions (his friends), and Naruto. So who is Naruto for him? What is the need to make exception for Naruto? It’s very clear he is placing Naruto at a high pedestal for some unknown reasons.

Before this Databook dissection, remember I said something about saying Goodbye, ‘ When you love someone or at least feel for someone, you will look into that person’s eyes and speak some farewell words before you leave‘

Sasuke is doing exactly that here in this scene without saying anything.

Am sorry SS shippers, you can scream all you want about Sasuke knocked her out and left her on the bench. But there was no emotional distraught when he left her. Sasuke seemingly spent a longer time staring at Naruto than looking at Sakura when she confessed.

OROCHIMARU HIDEOUT

Well, there is nothing I can say about here for SS. He pretty much saw her and said, “Sakura, huh?”.. And that’s all. He didn’t give two shits about her.

His attention was completely on someone else.

UNDER THE BRIDGE

She sent Naruto to get Sasuke for her benefits, so she can keep him. Again, disregarding Sasuke’s feelings and what he wanted. Naruto should’ve said “I’ll bring him back because HE wants too, to keep HIM safe, not for you.”

Naruto pretty much said the same thing in this arc, Larry. Naruto, in part 1, was happy for Sakura feeling the same about Sasuke as him, that is ‘To bring him back’. And also sad that his crush really loves someone else. But after Sakura gave up on Sasuke and faking her confession, Naruto decided, ‘Alright, I want to save him personally. I don’t care about our promise anymore”.

This is where, SS ship goes into a crazy ride and it’s not a positive one.

Sasuke was on a rampage. He lost the ability to differentiate between his friends and foes. He stabbed Karin. And when he find her alive, he was about to Chidori her.

And then comes the pink princess, full of lies and deceit. And Sasuke being impatient and disgusted with her lies, he does this

Well, in part 1, she had a degree of power to change his heart. But not here. He, instead, got riled up more and even tried to kill her without a warning and that too by not looking at her face. Pathetic!!!!

This scene screams ‘Trust issues’ from both sides.

Did it stop here???

Fucking Shit!!!!!! Is there any people who still ship this nonsense?. If you are a Sakura fan, you should hate her for the lack of trust and backstabbing the person she loves,

If you are a Sasuke fan, errrrmmm.....I have nothing to say. You know what to do.

There is nothing positive here, that can make me ship them. He is killing her like a Mosquito.

If you truly loved someone in the past, even in your darkest moments, you will be honest and you cannot fake before that person.

Proof??

Here, Sasuke had a clear resolve to kill his brother, Itachi. He lived for this moment for about 8 years and immersed himself in Darkness for 3 years with Orochimaru. He could have run away, dodge or look away from Itachi. But Sasuke simply couldn’t!!! You know why?? Sasuke loved Itachi once more than anything in this world. At this moment, he is letting all those defense loose and embracing the moment and see what Itachi was about to do. Because somewhere in his heart he trusts Itachi.

But killing Sakura doesn’t make Sasuke feel anything. She is just another victim like Danzo or Karin or all those Samurais or a fucking mosquito!!!!

So you are telling me that Sasuke had feelings for her but kept it hidden all along and still tried to kill her like a pest???

Give me a fucking break!!!!

And you all know, who changed Sasuke’s heart here in this scene. It was not Sakura. There’s absolutely no reason for Sasuke to listen to that person and what’s more, Sasuke even made a promise (despite being in darkness, he had it in his heart to listen to that person) to destroy Konoha only after killing that person ..

WAR ARC

Well, this is the arc where Sakura behaves like a rabid dog on heat waiting for Sasuke and shamelessly trying to wag her tails. But Sasuke didn’t give two shits about her, not once or twice but multiple times.

MOMENT 1

An explosion was about to kill the whole shinobi alliance and this dude wants to save Jugo, his companion and Naruto, the person who will challenge his Revolution, his rival and the one whom he wants to kill. Why only Naruto??? Why not Naruto and Sakura???

Pink cherry Queen doesn’t even crossed Sasuke’s mind. Because he already threw her away in part 1.

MOMENT 2

Alright Bitch!!! The entire shinobi alliance was dying on the other side of the battlefield. And this asshole is doing a clownshow before Madara just to get inside Sasuke’s pants????

I mean, Come On!!!!

Well, if Sasuke truly likes her, he should be the one to have catched her or atleast should have asked her, ‘are you alright??’

I am sorry, where are the romantic feelings???

MOMENT 3

ROFLLLL🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

For the first time, Kishimoto is trolling those Sakutards through Sasuke’s words, what we, readers were right about all along. He is calling her useless here. And still these fake feminazis trying to ship her with him???

Don’t you guys have any self respect??? If so, this should be the moment to jump out of this trash ship.

MOMENT 4

Geez!!! You are still on this ship?????

He clearly doesn’t want to save her at all. The hawk can clearly lift 3 people. Sasuke is not even making an effort here.

And you are still yapping that he is blinded by darkness???

MOMENT 5

This is the moment SS calls it as ‘eyesmex’... While in reality, he was just looking at her and silently thanking her for helping him out. Do you know what is a real ‘eyesmex’??? I will attach it at the end.

If you guys pull this as true love, then he should have stayed in the same love till the end. But Sasuke has other ideas.

This is the one of the funniest thing in this arc. LOLLLLL

Instead of being relieved that Sakura was saved, Sasuke was wondering about Kakashi’s Susanoo.....and Sharingan.

Do people still think he cares about her????

MOMENT 6

Am cackling here, while dissecting the sorry state of this ship guys 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣!!!! If something good happens to me because of SS , it’s just the way you guys are making me laugh by making a clown out of yourself!!!!

Do you guys know something? There was a man named Itachi. Before massacring his clan, the very first person he killed was his ‘supposed’ Girlfriend, named Izumi. I wouldn’t say Itachi loved her like a lover boy. It was just one sided on her part. He just talks to her when he finds a spare time and considers her a good friend.

Do you know how he killed her?

By putting her in a ‘Tsukuyomi’. And what kind of Tsukuyomi, you ask?

Can you see how he fulfilled her dreams gracefully before he was going to kill her???

Why didn’t Sasuke do this???? Why particularly select a murdering genjutsu????

MOMENT 7

He said it, finally.

He don’t love her at all. There was no hidden feelings. He admitted from his own mouth.

One day later, after the final VoTE battle ends.... After exchanging some intense feelings and even crying tears of happiness with Naruto....

Sasuke tells Sakura, ‘Sorry’....

Ummm.... That’s all???

All those negative shits happened before cannot be solved by just simply saying ‘Sorry’ and ‘Thank you’. If someone has an ounce of self-respect, they should know this is not OKAY at all...🙅🏻‍♀️🙅🏻‍♀️🙅🏻‍♀️🙅🏻‍♀️

Am Sorry, but Sasuke was just being politely blunt, kind of insincere towards Sakura and turned his attention somewhere else in a matter of minutes. He was not even bothered by Sakura’s tears here. Instead staring at someone on his left. Remember I talked about touching the person physically and visually?

Sasuke is subconsciously or purposefully touching someone on his left through his eyes. Definitely it’s not Sakura. You know who it is. Remember SStards’ infamous ‘eyesmex’... I seriously believe this is a perfect example of ‘eyesmex’.

All these intense looks and feeling pain still doesn’t serve Sakura, even after pulled out of darkness. If there is a moment, where SS wants to shine, then this is where it should be. He should have told her, how he missed her all along, how he felt about hurting her, should have wiped her tears and some corny shit. But instead, Sasuke went for a long ass monologue for his friend and talking about sharing his pain.

What about your kween’s pain????

You don’t have to ship SNS. But you should know where Sasuke’s priorities are.

It’s not Sakura.

Sasuke said ‘Sorry’ to Karin too. ‘Thank you’ to Kakashi as well.

And what’s even more pathetic is, still Sakura wants to get inside Sasuke’s pants by accompanying him. Bitch, you can help your village, console your best friend Ino who lost her father, try to surpass Tsunade, improve your skills or whatever... Why bother him???

So, if you really think ‘Thank you’ as a token of love, then I can’t help it but term Sakura as a rabid dog who waits for her master to come home and throw some bones whenever he finds time. Your standards for a romantic love is piss poor and you will suffer just like Sakura in Boruto with just emptiness. All Sasuke did was poke her forehead just like Itachi which symbolizes keeping someone at a distance. He also said the same words to her just like Itachi said to him many times ‘Mata kondo da’ meaning ‘Maybe next time’. And we all knew that next time never came for Sasuke.

Now all we see is a Sasuke as an absentee father in Boruto for which I don’t blame him. He was never a marriage material in the first place. Sakura and the Manga Editors forced him and she is paying for it.

Hell, Sarada doesn’t know how her own father looks like or the truth of her mother. Both of them were miserable and I find it absolutely ridiculous when SS shippers still say “they’re in love” or they’re OTP.

All I want to say to SS shippers is, Your Ship Has Sailed Already. You cannot expect Sasuke to go lovey dovey towards Sakura with a 12 year old daughter around and for fuck’s sake, this is not a romance manga, it’s a battle manga. So stop dreaming about this kind of non-existential romance and pull yourself altogether.

#naruto analysis #ask #sasunaru #sasunarusasu #anti sakura #anti sasusaku

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joontier · 3 years

Text

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love, longing, immense pining

warnings: none to note

word count: 6.6k

g/n: HAHGFJFIE FINALLY!!!!!!!! that is all. ((also painfully and regrettably unedited)) thank you. THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR ASJDFOAWJEFI SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE?

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

“Hoseok.”

Yoongi keeps his voice low as he attempts to poke the general awake, vigorously, yet with the right amount of caution so as not to wake the naked sleeping court lady in his arms. Chaeyoung, was it? The southern king ponders on wistfully as he pulls the blanket up again to maintain the modesty in the room - if there was any left, that is.

The young king of the south had already sensed the tension between the pair when they were first acquainted with each other. Yoongi, not a stranger to the wants of the flesh, already knew this was coming. If it only weren’t for the places they hold in the palace, they would have made a great couple.

Surely though, the two were old enough to know that clothes were still warranted even after what Yoongi could only assume to have been a steamy evening between the two. It wasn’t appropriate to just go sleeping in the nude especially when one could easily barge in at any time of the day, just as Yoongi had done.

The blonde-haired king continues poking at the general by the ribs, cursing when the latter won’t respond and instead rolls over to the other side, pulling Chaeyoung closer in his arms.

Good heavens. Why does this have to be so hard?

For one, he’d already wasted time this morning trying to locate Hoseok, who he reckons no longer enjoys sleeping in his own quarters; finding more comfort in the danger that lies with sleeping in the court ladies’ quarters instead. He makes a mental note to address this to Hoseok later as this was going to be a major headache later on.

Should this relationship of theirs proceed with its imminent direction, not only the general will be facing the grave consequences of their actions, but the poor court lady will have to take responsibility as well.

“Hoseok.” The young king of the south nudges him once more, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi hears the general groan in response, and lets himself sit back against the wall in relief. At least this reaction was better than the log he was trying to wake just moments ago.

That is, until he realizes he spoke too soon.

Hoseok rolls over and proceeds to lie on his stomach. Yoongi cards his fingers through his temple, jaw clenched as he tries to figure out a more effective way to get the general up on his feet.

He spots a vessel on top of Chaeyoung’s dresser, and Yoongi smirks as an unorthodox idea of waking up someone pops in his head. Quietly creeping up from the floor, he grabs the clay container by its neck and tilts the vessel, pouring the water onto Hoseok’s bare back. This ought to do the job. Just as expected, the liquid had the southern general scrambling to his feet.

Squinting his eyes as he looks around, Hoseok comes face to face with his king, eyes trained on him like a tiger waiting on his prey. Hoseok immediately sits up, cowering under the king’s daunting gaze, “M-my king…”

Yoongi promptly gets up, not wanting to bother himself with another look at Hoseok’s naked form. “Get up. Meet me by the stables,” the king orders, sliding the door open, “and next time, please maintain some dignity and remember to put clothes on before sleeping.”

The general clambers from the court lady’s yo, taking his discarded clothes by the corner of the room as the southern king heads to the stables first.

“Did she really knock you out that bad that you were harder to wake than a sleeping cow?”

Even at dawn when the sun hasn’t risen yet, Yoongi sees the general blush under the sky’s soft shade of purple. “If I could say so for myself, she was quite flexible, your Highness…” Hoseok whispers shyly as he chews on his lip. Yoongi’s mouth falls agape at his general’s confession, grimacing at the awful mental images it brought to his mind this early in the morning.

“General.” Hoseok straightens himself atop his steed, knowing that the king meant business when he calls him by his official title. “You should know that what I had said was a question I needed not answered.”

“My apologies, my King.” Hoseok says, expression unchanging when he whispers under his breath. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s getting frisky with the women of the palace.” Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he glares at the general, guiding his horse nearer to Hoseok’s, seemingly taunting the latter to say more. “Ah yes,” the general gets the message and bows, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the small smirk playing on the younger man’s lips, “this is the part where I keep my mouth shut.”

Bored out of his wits (and disrupted from his very lovely sleep), the general turns to his king, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, jeonha, but where exactly are we headed to at this time of the day?”

“We’re already here.” Hoseok, with his question answered in the most unexpected manner, gives an awkward nod as a reply to the southern king. He studies the place where Yoongi had led him to in this early morning and in recognition, his would seemingly winces at him as he remembers the day they’ve faced death in the eyes, and luckily got away with it.

In subconscious reminiscence, Yoongi flexes his shoulders, a short tinge of pain stings through the breadth of his back. Hoseok, in similar thought, does the same, reaching over to his side to feel the slowly healing wound.

The small clearing was not as ghastly as it had been when they had first arrived at this part of the forest. The previously horrific scenery was no more; the doltap shrine, formerly made from dead bodies toppled over each other was now replaced by actual rocks and other mementos of the deceased.

Yoongi dismounts from his horse, a small cloud of dust appearing as he lands on the ground. Just like that, he’s taken back to the same night he’d met Seokjin – the same night he and Hoseok had narrowly escaped the hands of death. The southern king closes his eyes, reliving the scene like it was just yesterday.

“Forgive me, jeonha, but why are we here? If I should say so myself, my king, we we’re lucky enough to get away last time…if we stay here any longer, I’m not particularly sure what or who could be waiting for us this time.”

“We have to look for something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure too. Just… I don’t think Seokjin is dead yet.”

Hoseok looks at him, worry painting all over his features. Yoongi had never concerned himself with the capitol, all the more with its king. The southern general couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but he is sure that there is a missing piece of the puzzle he has yet to discover. It won’t be long before he does.

Jungkook watches you from the shade of another nearby tree, indulging himself with an apple he picked earlier on the way to the gardens. You’ve just finished teaching five new characters to the class, and as a reward for their exemplary behavior, you decided to treat them with a story – one you’re telling with such animation right now.

He joins the children in laughter when you imitate a creature: an elephant, he reckons, though he’s never seen one in real life. Subsequently, you use your arm as a trunk and even start to make the strangest sounds to mimic the animal. Peels of the sound of amusement resonate throughout the open space. Even the court ladies you’d initially came with join soon afterwards, making their best impressions of different animals.

The sight was most endearing. You’re a natural when it comes to children, Jungkook attests to himself. You were patient, caring, and kind – all the traits of a good mother already inherent in you. It was no question that you child will grow up to be just as wonderful as you are.

Being a widow though? Not so much.

Despite the bountiful radiance brought about by these children, he could still see the sadness in your eyes. Gone are your usually bright orbs, mirth and brilliance swimming freely in your pupils.

It’s only been a week since the news of Seokjin’s passing and the announcement of your pregnancy. You’d maintained your cheeriness but Jungkook fears it all might have been just a façade because your smiles never reached your eyes unlike before.

Jungkook knew you were strong. Even the whole palace would agree on that fact. You were stronger than anyone could ever admit and you were far stronger than you think you were. It was a trait of yours that even only the bravest could only hope to be bestowed with. Your resilience was one of your many characteristics that Jungkook admired so much.

But at the same time, he fears this mask of courage you put on was going to be the same thing that was going to destroy you slowly from the inside.

Jungkook understood where you were coming from. Truly, he did. He’s dealt with enough royals all his life to know that a simple display of weakness could be perceived for something far greater than it is. Royals are groomed and nurtured to perfection from the moment they are born, and in their lifetime, they are only afforded a specific set of standards they had to live by strictly, else they lose the respect of the council and subsequently, their people.

It was madness at the least, to think that royals are supposed to be as stiff as their forefathers now commemorated by figures made of stone or some precious mineral. How strangely ironic.

Crown aside, you are but a human being, a woman, who had just lost her husband, and is now burdened with having to deal with your pregnancy alone. On top of all the responsibilities of a queen, including those of which Seokjin had left you.

Jungkook knew he was a mere soldier in your eyes, but he wanted to help you in the hopes to alleviate the pain you were going through; he wanted you to know that he feels your pain and he knows the suffering of one who has likewise lost a loved one.

He knows you’re constantly pre-occupying yourself with these things, always looking for a distraction to forget your personal sentiments. Jungkook could only imagine what struggles you’re going through right now and how badly he wishes he could hold you in his arms and tell you it’s going to be alright and he’s going to be there for you no matter what.

“Jungkook? Captain?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet as he sees you looking down on him as he rested by the bark of the tree. “Jungjeon-mama!”

Chuckling, you remove a stray leaf that stuck itself to his pants. Jungkook’s heart flutters at the small gesture. “Are you alright, captain? I’ve been calling for you but you seem busy staring off into the distance…” He gulps.

“Alright. Will you accompany me to the doltap shrine then?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Just like before, the two of you walk in comfortable silence, although the captain beside you looks more tense than ever. “Jungkook. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re unwell, I can just go on my own. You can head back to your quarters.”

The captain quickly shakes his head, but when you meet his eyes, there’s a heavy weight in his stare that you wish to mention, but you don’t want to push his boundaries any further, especially when the two of you had been closer than any of you would have imagined.

You look away as you reach the top of the tiny slope, the dock finally in view. Jungkook immediately offers his elbow for your support, and you place a hand on the same with much gratitude.

He steps into the tiny boat first, readying the oars where he can reach them easily for later. Extending a hand out, he beckons you over to the canoe. Due to an unknown factor, you miss the gap between the boat and the dock, tripping slightly as you get inside. “Mama! Our– the baby!” You laugh at your own clumsiness before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine! I’m fine… stop acting like I’m a porcelain doll…” you joke, settling yourself on the seat.

“I’m just concerned about your well-being,” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting your eyes as he fixes the oars with a pout on his face. What a big baby. Gently, you put a hand on his knee, urging him to look at you, “I know,” you give him a warm smile, “and I’m very thankful to have you nearby all the time.”

It was the whole truth. Ever since Minho came barging in with your husband’s clothes and until the announcement of your pregnancy with the council, Jungkook has always been there. Since then, you’d opted to stay inside your hanok most of the day, unless you had to come out for your official duties.

He’d always be there, waiting outside your hanok as you’re about to leave for your responsibilities. You’d even suggested having Yunho come with you instead but the stubborn captain insisted, telling you it is his greatest honor to be your personal guard.

The boat pushes forward and you tilt your head back slightly, enjoying the cool, crisp air. “It’s a beautiful day today isn’t it?”. Jungkook smiles this time, “Certainly, wangbi.”

You decide to leave the shrine late in the afternoon as Jungkook wasn’t able to bring a lamp with him. The sky is becoming a lovely purple, and as the captain manages to safely bring you both back across the river, you make your final request of the day from him. “Why don’t we sit here a while longer? Enjoy the sunset perhaps?” You’re already patting the grass beside you, leaving Jungkook no choice.

Jungkook finally gathers up the courage to ask you this time, “How about you, Mama? Are you alright?” Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of response to expect but he hopes that you will be able to recognize the true depth of his sudden inquiry.

You don’t answer at first. It seemed as if you were trying to gather your thoughts before you reply. “I’m alright,” you retort with a smile. There it is again – the ingenuine grin. “Taehyung had just visited me yesterday to recommend meals I could have prepared that will give me and the baby enough nutrition.”

Right, you were also pregnant. He almost forgot that for a moment. That was another reason he couldn’t sleep at night – could he possibly be a fath-

“How I wish my child’s father was still here to witness him or her grow up.”

Oh. Right. Jungkook chokes back a sob.

This was only one of the many times he’d realized he’d been a fool all along, but this realization had been the most painful yet.

Just as if on cue, Jungkook feels something cold hit his cheek from above. There’s a grey cloud reigning over them, like it’s giving a warning signal of the storm that’s about to come.

He turns to you, worry apparent in his features once more. “Mama, we have to go back!” Just then, there’s a downpour of water, evidently drenching you both. He extends his arm out, even offering you a ride back home on his back. You stand up on your own though, but you don’t take his hand, nor did you follow him back to the palace.

“Mama?”

“Let’s stay for a little while longer.”

“But you might catch a cold, mama.”

“Since when was a cold fatal?” The smile on your face is almost devilish and Jungkook finds himself powerless to say no. “Come on!” you urge, clapping excitedly. “When was the last time you played under the rain?”

“When I was a kid?”

“All the more reason to have fun then!”

The last time he purposefully stayed under the rain was with you, and he promised himself that he would never do it again if you weren’t going to be with him.

You were both young and your rendezvous at the southern forest were nothing short of cherished moments. There were days when the downpour was ultimately unavoidable, especially when you’re playing in the middle of the forest. Rain hadn’t stopped you both from meeting nonetheless. There were also days when he just waited at your designated meeting place, only accompanied by the angry clouds while his body shivered from the cold.

When the years had passed by, Jungkook didn’t find anything enjoyable with staying under the rain so he stayed indoors most of the time, unless it was part of his official duties. Besides, everything else seemed to lose its purpose if you weren’t in it.

Life for him was a storm he was waiting to pass, but since he’d met you that day in the forest all muddy, he learned that life was about learning how to dance in the rain. Ironically enough, you were also the sun that brought light to his life, providing him with enough energy to last for centuries.

You feel something by your feet, prompting you to jump into Jungkook’s arms in fright. The captain gets surprised by your actions, causing him to almost lose his footing. Jungkook looks down to see any damage and sees a brown slimy creature camouflaging with the grass, “Mama, it’s just a frog…”

You frown adorably, giving him a hard time with an irresistible pout. How he wishes he could just kiss you right now. “I’m not particularly fond of these creatures…” You gasp when another one croaks, tightening your grip around the captain’s arms. Jungkook’s mouth twitches in silent celebration at your touch. He may or may not have flexed his muscles too on purpose – but that was most likely a primary instinct when the woman of your dreams encourages physical contact, albeit subconsciously.

Jungkook’s jubilation is cut short when more frogs start to appear out of nowhere, causing you to squeeze even tighter, your grip bordering on pain. For some unknown, you’ve managed to latch on his back with your constant avoidance of the tiny, slimy creatures. “Jung!” you shout, now relentlessly slapping his arm; Jungkook huffs - so much for his fantasies. “We have to get out of here Jungkook!!”

The quick-witted captain crouches low enough, telling you to jump on his back. He didn’t need to actually tell you though, because the moment he’d turned around you already had your hands hooked over his shoulders, trying to get him to hurry. Because of all the movements and the noise, the frogs share the same level of alarm as you – one even manages to fasten itself on your shoe. You flail your foot about, subsequently making it fly about a few feet away and thus, making Jungkook burst into laughter.

He remembers the time he’d surprised you with a frog inside a box in front of the whole class, and now you’d managed to get a whole army of frogs chasing you both. It was a living nightmare – for you at least, Jungkook on the contrary though, is positive that he’s having the time of his life watching frogs terrify you.

Just as expected, Jungkook loses his breath from laughter, setting you down gently as you go over the slope. You’re a little bit too hesitant to let go though, that even when Jungkook has turned to face you, you’re still clinging onto his jeogori as if your life depended on it. It’s a relief when he hears you giggle in his chest, assuring him that you were no longer frightened.

Only silence remained as the laughter dies down. There’s the muted croaking of the frogs in the distance, but other than that, you’re left standing in his arms, quiet as ever. “Is it alright if I hold you like this for a while?”

Your sudden request throws the captain off guard. He’s powerless to say no, not when this is the moment he’d been waiting and imagining for years. “Can we just stay like this for a moment longer, Mama?” His voice almost breaks, pleading at the least.

“Of course, Jungkook.”

It seems like a hug is what you both just need.

Just as the rain pours over them, Jungkook feels his own tears rolling down hotly against his cheeks, contrasting the cold droplets of rainwater. His heart hurts. He’s crying.

Actually, you both are.

You find Yoongi lounging extremely close by the doors of your hanok two days later.

The proximity of the southern king startles you and as a gust of wind blows by, some of his bright yellowish hair fly straight into your mouth, “Yoongi!” He fumbles as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder. “Apologies my queen.” There are at least two strands left in your face and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to reach out his hand, taking out the strands with such tenderness, shivering when you feel the cold pads of his fingers against your cheek.

It takes you a moment before you realize what’s happening and you pull away, turning on your heel. “What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, sliding your doors close. You’re meant to wake a lot earlier than you did today and if you don’t hurry, you might just miss your music class with the village kids.

Yoongi hurries after you, trying to keep up with your pace, “I was…um…wondering if I could come to your class today?”

“You?” you think out loud, not sparing him a glance. You don’t put much thought to it with your haste to make it in time, and you tell him he’s free to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t say anything else after that, so you quicken your pace towards the palace gardens.

You reach the reserved spot in no time, with the children already settled in, chatting and playing among themselves. Just as you’d requested the night prior, your gayageum has been assembled just underneath the oak tree.

“Jungjeon-mama, who is that ahjussi behind you?” Turning to see who the child was pertaining to, you come to see Yoongi standing behind you, seemingly offended at how he’d been perceived to be way older than he actually is.

“Ahjussi?!” Yoongi exclaims, face twisted into a grimace, “Who are you calling ahjussi, kid?”

The children are taken aback by the tone of his voice, unaware that he hadn’t taken any offense with the child’s question. The poor boy’s lips quiver in fear. You give the southern king a quick glare before calling the boy over and letting him sit on your lap. While Yoongi approaches the both of you with a softened gaze, the boy nuzzles his head by the crook of your neck, murmuring his fright over the man’s temper.

“Hey little bud,” Yoongi crouches, tapping the boy’s shoulder twice to get the latter to face him. The boy peeks slowly from your neck, eyeing the blonde-haired man warily. “I’m sorry about earlier son. I was just surprised because no one had ever called me that –“

He wasn’t actually going to explain it is he? You clear your throat, interrupting him. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Right. Say, could you tell me your name?”

“It’s Jinseo.”

“Hello, Jinseo. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi. Could I make it up to you by playing a song?”

Jinseo paused, head titled slightly to the right as if in deep thought. “It isn’t mine to give you permission. You should ask Mama,” he says smartly, pointing at you. Kids are getting smarter these days.

“Jungjeon-mama?” Yoongi asks with an expectant look. With the other children following suit, you are left with no other choice but to say yes. Reluctantly, you lift yourself up together with Jinseo and taking a spot next to the other children.

“Let me just try to…” Yoongi adjusts himself on the seat, plucking the strings in an uncoordinated manner, “remember…” All of a sudden, he claps like he’d just produced gold from thin air, startling everyone around. “I got it! I got it now, don’t worry.”

You and Jinseo share a look.

If there was any discipline of the arts you could take pride for in yourself, it would have been music. Your father, King Daesin of the south, aside from occasionally practicing medicine, also had the ear for music. He had taught you how to play the gayageum, an instrument you’ve been acquainted with for as long as you could remember. Because of fair years of playing, you could freely boast to anyone that you’re quite exceptional at it, but now with Yoongi and his hands on your beloved instrument... Yoongi was tremendously better at it than you probably ever will be.

A smile creeps onto your face when you realize his acting earlier, pretending to be a beginner with the instrument when he could totally be mistaken for a musical prodigy. What a humble bragger. Yoongi had his eyes closed, pouring his emotion and soul onto the instrument, and even without having to enunciate lyrics to get the message across, it was clear to everyone that the song conveyed sadness in all forms. Each vibration of the string – every sound it made spoke in volumes, moving everyone present in class. By the time he’d finished, all the children were as silent as mice, rigid as statues. This was the first time you’ve seen them all well-behaved.

It also dawns on you that this was the first time any of you were deeply moved by music.

The rest of the class stay silent moments later, all in deep contemplation despite the differences in your ages. From your side, you hear a child sigh to the girl in front of her, “I came to class happy this morning. Now I’m sad.” All of a sudden, Jinseo scrambles out of your lap and rushes to Yoongi, hugging the older man’s side in an awkward manner. Yoongi is caught off guard by the gesture, patting the little boy’s head in a similarly awkward manner.

“Ahjussi,” Jinseo calls once more, maintaining his hold on Yoongi’s waist. The southern king heaves a deep sigh, knowing he’s going to have to deal with that a lot longer than he intended to be. “Why are you sad? You played sad music for us. Now we’re all sad too.” Yoongi is rendered speechless and looks at you with wide eyes, seeking for your help. “Uh...Jinseo, why don’t you ask your Yoongi-hyungnim to play us a happy song then?”

“A happy song!” Sheepishly, Yoongi cheers, clapping his hands in an attempt to get everyone back in high spirits. Thankfully, the children seem to enjoy the idea, so they goad the ahjussi on, wanting to see if he’s just as talented with cheery songs as he is with sorrowful ones.

With a small smile, Yoongi mouths a ‘thank you’ in your direction before placing his hands on the gayageum once more.

“Thank you for saving me a few times earlier during your class,” the southern king says, leaning towards you while he mimics your movements as you wave goodbye to the children. “You haven’t had much experience with children, haven’t you?” you raise a brow at him while a laugh escapes your lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Yoongi replies, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good practice though, what you did earlier. One day, you’re going to be a father as well.”

Yoongi eyes you slowly from the side, checking if you realize the gravity of your words. His eyes lower down to your stomach, imagining if the baby growing inside of it was his own blood. Perhaps it was? Perhaps it wasn’t?

He’d been especially concerned about your well-being since last week when shocking news had been continuously delivered right to your arms. He wanted to approach you badly during those rough days, but you were far too pre-occupied to even spare him a second glance. The young king wonders how much of a difficulty it might be for you, but all he wanted was to show you that he was willing to support you in any way that he can.

Yoongi sees Hoseok approach with the jumeoni he’d personally prepared early in the morning. He sees his brother trail not far behind, studying the silk bag in Hoseok’s hands. The southern king had been nervous since last night, continuously practicing his lines to the point where he’s not sure why he’s doing it in the first place. It’s now or never.

“Jungjeon-mama?”

Yoongi winces inwardly as he hears his own voice wavering. Heavens. Why was he so nervous around you? You turn to him with a warm smile. Ah yes – that’s why.

“May I invite you for a walk?” The southern king asks as he beckons his general over who hands him the silk bag. “And lunch perhaps?”

You pause for a moment, recalling your thoughts if you had anything else planned after your music class with the children. Yoongi tries hard to not show too much excitement when he hears your yes. Extending his arm out, he motions for you to walk with him. He feels Jungkook follow you both, and he leans to your side a little, whispering, “I was wondering if we could perhaps…go alone?”

You look at him, as if studying his facial expressions. Turning around, you tell Jungkook to stay put. The captain’s eyes dart back and forth, giving his own older brother a steely gaze before nodding his head and bowing to you. “Don’t worry captain. I’ll scream loudly if anything bad happens,” you tell him as a reassurance.

“In all seriousness, Mama…” Yoongi says, putting on a stern face, even though you are both experiencing clear difficulty with keeping a straight face after hearing Yoongi’s stories. “…do I seriously look like an ahjussi to you?”

You place a hand over your mouth, ineffectively hiding your giggles. Yoongi grimaces, clutching his chest to express his hurt over your reaction. “We can’t blame the kids though. And besides, Jinseo had a valid point.” The young king gives you a playful glare.

Yoongi had been expressing his sentiments over the whole ‘ahjussi’ situation earlier, arguing that he didn’t have enough wrinkles on his face to be even considered one. In Jinseo’s earlier defense though, he stated that only old people had white hair, and if he wasn’t old – why would he even have white hair in the first place. To which, of course, an agitated Yoongi replies: “It’s not white. It’s yellow…ish. And it’s bleach! It’s something I discovered during an overseas travel! A lot of people have this kind of hair color…”

“How are you feeling? Is your pregnancy going well?”

“How did you know about my pregnancy?” Yoongi shrugs as he replies, “Walls are never thick enough to hide news like that.” “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is an appropriate reaction, Yoongi reckons, as he’s had the same sort of response when he’d heard of the news.

“Well, for one, our royal physician Taehyung had scheduled regular visits to keep my condition in check. So there’s that. He advises that as long as keep a stress-free environment, my pregnancy will be just fine.”

Using your chopsticks, you fiddle with the mandu he’s made hours prior, deep in thought as you stare into the distance.

Yoongi hopes that the apparent death of your husband isn’t conducive of stress of a stress-free environment. He makes an inward scoff – as if that’s most likely going to happen. If he’s already thorned by occurrences that seem insignificant to those of the capitol’s then he could only imagine the sort of struggle you have to go through, especially when the backbone of your government is composed of vile men who are strongly displeased by the thought of having a woman on the throne.

The young man lies on his back, stretching out his legs to get rid of the tingling on his soles due to their prolonged sitting. With a long exhale, he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift along with the steady breeze.

He knows he’s neglecting his duties as the king of the south by prolonging his stay here, but Seokjin’s death won't settle with him nicely. He has to get to the bottom of this. Even if he’s still holding a grudge against Seokjin for taking you away from the south (and had even secretly wished him dead at some point) he could never plunge a sword to another king, much more to the same one who had taken care of the woman he wanted to call his wife.

He hears rustling from your side, and Yoongi opens his eyes a little to check on you. He watches you clean the bowls and reorganize them back onto the bag he’d brought. You slowly start to turn to face him and Yoongi quickly shuts his eyes, solely relying on his other sense to figure out what’s happening.

“Oh? You must’ve fallen asleep huh?” Yoongi hears more rustling around. “Maybe you could still listen to me even during slumber…” You inhale deeply, “You know…Seokjin was always good with children.”

Yes. Of course, speaking of the spirit.

“Jinseo was one of his favorite students. Jinseo was actually really shy and quiet at first – yet for some inexplicable reason, Seokjin had successfully helped him to come out of his shell and the little boy has been brighter since. Seokjin was always so playful yet so gentle at the same time that whenever he’d visit our classes the children would go crazy over him.”

Well, that’s nice to hear, especially when he’d made a particularly bad first impression with the children earlier.

There’s momentary silence. Yoongi hears a sniff – and a shaky exhale afterwards.

“I miss him Yoongi.” Another sniff. “I miss him so much that it hurts every day. Everything reminds me of him.” The sound of your silent crying rings throughout his ears, yet he can't bring himself to get up and wipe them away, fearing it might cause you to stop pouring your heart out.

Mourning was part of healing. You’d feel lighter after crying. At least that’s what he’d learned from having lost his mother too.

At the same time, Yoongi feels his chest constrict at your words. While you pour your fears out to his sleeping form, he struggles with maintaining a stoic face to keep his act up. His empathy is fighting to register in his features, and when he can no longer hold it in, he turns his back to you, swallowing back his emotions that threaten to pour out after years of hiding.

“Jeonha, I can't seem to find any sign of him anywhere.”

Hoseok slowly and carefully gets back up from his crouching position, groaning in relief as he hears his joints cracking as he twists his torso from side to side. Yoongi does the same, shaking his legs one at a time to get rid of the numbness.

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived and Yoongi is getting more hopeless with every passing moment. They have searched everywhere for anything – any sign that he’s still alive.

He’d promised you he’d find your husband and bring him back. Even though you hadn’t exactly heard the silent vow of the southern king, he was a man of his word and he’ll be sure to do everything in his capacity to do it.

Yoongi couldn’t even find the reason why he was going to do it or why he should do it in the first place – whether it be for his own peace of mind, for your happiness, or for the future of the country.

He knew they’d left Seokjin that night and the chances that his fellow ruler was still alive was almost slim to none. He knows that trying to look for a clue and actually succeeding was going to be a long shot, especially when it has already been quite some time Yoongi had returned this morning to make sure but after hours of looking, the place was clean and empty, thus pushing down that gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, your husband was still alive.

Else he’d be forced to prolong his stay and resort to more meddling to protect you from harm.

They’ve already gone through this area, Yoongi thinks, recognizing the same stump he’d seen earlier. He settles himself on the tree remainder and picks up a fallen leaf. Just then, something glimmers from the ground and the curious king bends over once more, picking it up. It’s a bracelet.

Yoongi scoffs to himself: an even more shocking discovery. It’s not just any bracelet – it’s the kind of bracelet only royals can have. And if that isn’t the most astounding part of it yet, etched in the gold pendant is the emblem of the south.

Besides you, there could only be one other person who’d be wearing the same. If he’s still alive that is.

The man’s wife places a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, massaging them gently to ease the tension on his muscles. She’s never seen him his distraught since…since they left their previous home. Eunkyung is unsure how to give her husband the least solace, not when the circumstances only allow them to hope for the best.

For a moment, they stay like that, quiet and observant. In fact, they had been for almost a full moon, just watching the man they had taken into their home. The man had been looking for firewood that early morning, and he’d found this severely wounded man barely alive in the woods.

He’d carried the man on his back and hurried back home, his initial quest and the pains that came with old age completely forgotten. He had closed off one of his rooms reserved for his patients to tend to this not-so-stranger and had let his wife tend to his other patients while he carefully worked this man back to life for weeks.

“Do you think he will still wake?”

The man is unable to answer promptly as he tenderly takes the sick man’s hand in his and says a short prayer to his ancestors, as well as incorporating a lesson he’d learned back when he was still an apprentice – that human touch was an integral part of the art of medicinal healing.

The physician faces his wife and pulls her closer, likewise placing her hand on top of his and letting her join in his silent prayer. His thumb runs over the ring on the man’s finger, remembering a similar one of his own possession quite a few years back.

“He will. That is what I believe and that is what we are also praying for,” the man replies, checking the temperature of the cloth he’d laid on his patient’s forehead. It’s warm when he takes it, and he makes a mental note to cite this observation in his notes.

“Daesin,” Eunkyung calls, touching her husband’s now bare wrists, “your bracelet…where is it?”

The man sighs heavily, deflated as he rests his weight on his calves. “I…I don’t know, really. I must have lost it when I carried him home.”

It was the only thing reminding him of his past, of you, especially. Now it’s gone – but it really doesn’t matter anymore, not when something, or someone else rather had come into his life so easily. His patient was far more important than any bracelet that proved his previous rule over the southern city.

“I really hope he will get better soon.”

“He has to,” Daesin reiterates, hoping they’d eventually come true, “He has to get better because he’s my son-in-law.”

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ushibug · 3 years

Text

🆂🅸🅻🅻🆈 🅶🅸🆁🅻 - 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞 𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤

Summary: Bakugo Katsuki was immaculate to her, even when he didn’t notice one bit. Her ideology of him drove her to a pathetic pit of pitifulness.

Warnings: !!ANGST!! emotional issues, low self esteem issues, etc.

Song: Silly Girl by Chloe Moriondo

‼️SPOILERS AHEAD FOR BNHA MOVIE (2) AND RECENT CHAPTERS IN THE MANGA‼️

A/N: This was a blurb and the over use of the word “perfect.” :) enjoy <REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!>

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝

Katsuki Bakugo had an unkempt personality. Loud, aggressive, and always sour. His voice poured into anyone’s eardrums like honey, wanting, or unwanting.

On the playing field he was the strongest, always tried at least. And it felt like you always were watching his back 10 steps behind, but it didn’t matter when all you could be thankful for is that this angle allowed you to watch him.

And to you, when looking up at Bakugo Katsuki, laid a path of flowers behind him - so why not follow the prettiest route to reach him?

𝐈 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝

It was sickly how much Katsuki Bakugo consumed your thoughts. How could so a hectic being be so wanting within your head?

Nobody would ever know though. It was your little secret only you and your pillow knew when you’d create scenarios and squeal into it.

Or when tears shed for him.

Whatever the reason the disease of Katsuki Bakugou had invaded your brain, it was nice to dream such pleasant dreams of him. Making you want him more. And hope, that one day, he’d look at you the way you want him too.

𝐂𝐚��𝐬𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞

You always knew the system was questionable. Children trained to fight, you suppose everyone had their reason...

It wasn’t until the first attack - when you saw how broken everyone was. Bags under their eyes, walking mindlessly around the dorms, the silent cries. Mina slipping into your room in the middle of the night to sleep or else she’d have nightmares, Kirishima sitting in the corner of the lounge blankly staring off, Deku staring constantly at his scars.

And Bakugo?

Showed nothing. Just stalked into the lounges like his usual self. A grimace on his face.

Pity shown through his eyes, you could tell. But he did nothing to comfort the broken students.

You wondered if he’d been affected at all.

“Weakness isn’t something the number 1 hero has.” You remember him belt out once in one of his common outbursts in class.

Guess he was the perfect hero then. He was always perfect in your eyes.

𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨

After countless thoughts and dreams of Katsuki Bakugo, you made sure to always be a good classmate to him. Agreeing to his words, listening closely in his rambles, cheering him on when needed.

And when he walks into your math class, smiling at him when he sits at the assigned desk beside you. He never looks at you though, always looking straight ahead and sitting down with a boom.

So then the next day you say in a shy whisper “Good Morning Bakugou.”

And he’d once again not turn to you, just nod acknowledgment. But what’s a hero with no determination? And determination was driving you to make him see you.

But how pitiful you were.

“Extra. Hey. Dumbass. You with the ring.”

Your head turned to see who Bakugo was speaking with, only to be met with gorgeous velvet eyes. This made your heart race and ears turn hot.

“Me?” You whispered back. He only rolled his eyes and nodded. “I forgot to grab my pencil case from shitty hair, can you give me one?” He grumbled out, annoyed like he was the one who was being asked for a pencil. You complied neatly, grabbing your best pencil, making sure it was sharp and clean, and passing it to him so delicately. He grabbed it harshly and muttered thanks.

“My name is actually-”

“I don’t care extra.”

𝐈’𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐔𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞

You wished you’d always be content with watching Bakugou back. You wished you stayed happy always seeing him take more steps forwards than everyone else.

But you were an aspiring hero too. And you’d do anything to achieve those top ranks. Anything to be not behind him, or in front of him - but beside him.

So you added extra training, extra runs, asked anyone for an extra brawl. Whatever it would take to make sure you had a place, to showcase you were meant to be there.

Then why can’t you breathe? Why are spitting blood while gripping your burnt chest? Why are you kneeling pitifully in front of Katsuki Bakugo? For a moment, a miserable moment, you thought you could fight him. Keep him on his toes. Prove to him what you were capable of. That’s how you ended on the ground while everyone watched.

But you didn’t want to see their faces, you wanted to see his. Regrettably, you did, your eyes met his velvet ones. The ones that made a shade of red your favorite color. The ones that were in slits, glaring with a scowl on his lips. Disappointment, no, no, it was his realization of how useless you were.

God, he was impeccable, he never lost. And when he did, it was unnoticed because he’d get back to stronger. More rage held in his fist and more strength in his kicks.

“You look stupid down there. Get up.” He spits out before turning on his heels, walking away from the small battle ring. Leaving you to wallow in the realization that you’ll never get even a step closer to Bakugo Katsuki in this world.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞?

Bakugo never looked your way. Never even acknowledged your presence. And who could blame him?

Who would be mad at him for doing so when you laid in the rubble of an island you were supposed to protect, useless.

You were thankful though to see such a phenomenal scene as Deku and Bakugo painted the sky with such colors. It was truly amazing, he was amazing. Sheer strength and power.

You felt pathetic. Useless and unworthy. All these emotions flooding in as you continued watching while You laid in rubble, adrenaline, and shock keeping you awake to watch this phenomenon of two heroes. You wondered if anyone else was watching what your eyes were seeing. If anyone else is laying woefully in failure like you and looking up to the sky.

If not, this was sure a secret you’d take to the grave if you had to.

You questioned what was going through their heads at this moment, what an odd thought but curiosity of the mind always intrigued you. Do their hands tremble slightly too when knowing everything lays in their power to overcome? Do doubts crawl desperately to the front when they miss an opportunity to strike? Do they also think they aren’t able to achieve what they must?

Of course not. They aren’t you. They aren't insecure, fragile minded heroes like you. Who couldn’t even get fucking back up after falling into a deep pit of broken down rubble of some rocks? It hurts so much.

Bakugo would be so angry seeing you in this state. Questioning you if you even belonged within the hero course. But he had to know you kept fighting, you were still fighting. Fighting the pain, fighting to keep your eyes open, fighting just to make sure he was going to beat this villain.

Fighting the voice that screamed ever so loudly all your apprehensions about everything you’ve ever done. He would never want you. He won’t ever look at you unless it’s with disgust.

But you were desperate, so so desperate to be noticed, seen, known that you were strong enough to exist. So with a deep, painful breath and anything you could muster with a rib stabbing into your lung, you made it known.

“GO MIDORIYA.” One more breath, please just one more. “GO BAKUGO.”

𝐈’𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞

𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞

It felt like clawing, ripping at any sort of opening within this dark room you had fallen trapped within.

He was the perfect silhouette to become a hero. Besides his anger, he no doubt was someone who could save millions in the near future.

You idolized him, created this ideology that he was beyond compare. That nothing could break the Bakugo Katsuki. Even when it came to comparing him between Midorya, Todoroki, and Tokayami, he was ideal.

He was so ideal that it was a shock when Shigarki’s quirk impaled him. Making you scream in distraught and watch Deku push himself further into this self-destructed rage. Bakugo Katsuki could not fall, yet there he laid. Panting, wheezing as he held onto his stomach on the ground. The battle continues just mere feet ahead.

Your feet moved faster than your brain could process, rushing to be the first beside Bakugo, to drag him further from the prominent danger ahead. “Bakugo?! Keep putting pressure, eyes open okay?” Your arms scooping his neck, making sure a grip was on his shoulder as you pulled his body to shelter behind a piece of a building.

You realized Bakugou was human. A human who bled and felt pain. A human who cried when overwhelmed and scared. A human who could die. “Y/N, I-I don’t wanna die. I can’t die, I have to fight.”

He finally used your name. It should’ve felt good, amazing to be known. Though the way his voice cracked, throat hissing to function made your heart to drown in sorrow. Bakugo Katsuki was a scared boy, crying in your hands as blood pooled around him and swelled in his mouth. “Katsuki you won’t die, that would be the cause of weakness and remember what you said, weakness isn’t something the number 1 hero has...okay?” It was a jumble of words, something to guide him into assurance as you accessed the damages to his vital organs. To make sure any more blood wasn’t lost you had to pick up the red rag left by someone during this battle, pressing it down to his stomach, making him cry out in agony. fuck fuck fuck. “Where the fuck are the pro heroes?!” You screamed, eyes stinging at this situation. Eyes stinging because Bakugo Katsuki’s eyes were closing and breath was shallow. Eyes stinging because a boy laid limp in front of you. A boy who was supposed to become number 1.

“Please wake up... Bakugo? Please? Common you have too. You’re supposed to be the perfect hero, so please wake up! PLEASE.”

#MHA SPOILERS AHEAD #bnha imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki x y/n #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x you #bnha x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha headcanons #deku x reader

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bookcoversalt · 4 years

Note

Have you noticed the latest edition of Charlie Bowater can only draw one (1) face? She did The Princess Will Save You and Cast In Firelight both YA Fantasy set to be released this year. And they are how you say... the same fucking cover

Ah yes so you saw the same tweet I did

I know I literally just posted that we cannot outlaw book covers from looking like each other, but ! Oof!

The only thing that softens the blow here is that Charlie has improved at representing nonwhite features such that characters look like POC rather than tan white people, although,, that bar was low. Anybody remember the ACOTAR coloring book.

(Would you have guessed that 2/3 of these people are nonwhite? Or even that they’re supposed to be three different men? I guess all the men in Prythian have the same haircut?)

But that minor victory is mostly lost in the quagmires of the fact that Charlie’s style is to give everyone instagram face:

I wouldn’t even call this “Sameface” necessarily: that implies limitation, that an artist is only capable of drawing a single facial structure competently. Bowater is incredibly technically talented, she just chooses to give everyone catlike fae eyes and the cheekbones of a starving nymph. (My previous post on this here.)

But I don’t really blame her for that, or for these hilariously identical, nearly devoid of personality covers. Artists are allowed to do whatever they want. Artists who make art for covers are being art directed by designers and marketing teams who bear responsibility for how the finished pieces turn out.

No, this is our fault, as a community and an industry and..... society, kind of, for valuing character portraits that are “pretty” (“pretty” being an extremely loaded, culturally subjective concept) over art that actually Says Something About The Story. Bowater’s style happens to dovetail perfectly with what we currently collectively find pretty, and so we’ve put her art on a pedestal at the cost of everything else art can or should do for our stories.

And this is understandable: in contemporary western culture, pretty is a value unto itself. Seeing our characters portrayed as pretty denotes them as special, as smart, as powerful. It’s almost impossible to de-program ourselves from that reaction. There are approximately five kajillion studies on how beautiful people are at personal and professional advantages; how they’re perceived to be happier, healthier, more successful, and how those perceptions can translate into realities. (Nevermind how thinness and whiteness enter that equation, see above note about “pretty”.) I would love to see more “average” or weird- looking characters abound (and be accurately visually represented) in the YA/ Genre lit sphere, but for now... everyone is pretty.

Which sometimes means everyone is pretty boring.

But that’s just the specific, "What’s the deal with Bowater’s success in book circles and her style and all the sameiness” part of this equation. What if we backed up and asked: why character art at all? Beyond a question of “pretty”-ness (and general obvious Artistic Quality), why do we gravitate towards it, what's the purpose of it, how does it fall flat in a general sense, and how can it be utilized more effectively?

This is something I think about all the time. I follow writers on social media (because..... I am a writer on social media, regrettably), and we have an enormous collective boner for character art. “Getting fanart [of the characters]” is one of the achievement pinnacles constantly cited when people get or want to get published. Commissioning character art is something we reward ourselves with, or save up for (WHICH IS GOOD AND CORRECT. FREE ART IS GREAT BUT DO NOT SOLICIT IT. PAY YOUR ARTISTS). And like???? Same????? We love our stories because we’re invested in our characters. Most humans, even prose writers, are visual creatures to some extent, and no matter how happy we are with our text-based art, it’s exciting to see our creations exist in that form. So we turn that art into promo material and we advocate for it on our covers-- because it’s so meaningful to us! It goes with the story perfectly!! Look at my dumb beautiful children!!!!!

But on an emotional level, it’s hard to grasp that it only means something to us. Particularly when you take into account the aforementioned vast landscape of beautiful visual blandness of many characters (in the YA/ genre lit sphere, that’s pretty much all I’m ever talking about), character art can be like baby photos. If you know the baby, if that baby is your new niece or your friend’s kid, if you’ve held them and their parent texts you updates when they do cute shit, you’re probably excited to see that baby photo. But unless it’s exceptionally cute, a random stranger’s baby photo isn’t likely to invoke an emotional reaction other than “this is why I don’t get on facebook.”

Seeing art of characters they don’t know might intrigue a reader, but especially if the characters or art are unremarkable-looking, it’s doing a hell of a lot more for the people who already have an emotional attachment to that character than anybody else. And that’s fine. Art for a small, invested audience is incredibly rewarding. But like the parent who cannot see why you don’t think their baby is THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY IN THE WORLD???? I think we have trouble divesting our emotional reaction to character art from its actual marketing value, which.... is often pretty minimal. This is my hill to die on #143:

Character portraits, even beautiful ones, are meaningless as a marketing tool without additional context or imagery.

I love character art! I’m not saying it should not exist or that it’s worthless! Even art that appeals to only the one single person who made it has value and the right to exist. And part of this conversation is how important for POC to see themselves on covers, whether illustrations or stock imagery, particularly in YA/kidlit. I’m not saying character portrait covers are “bad”.

I am saying that I have seen dozens and dozens of sets of character art for characters who look interchangeable, and it has never driven me to preorder a book. (Also one character portrait for a high-profile 2019 debut that was clearly just a painting of Amanda Seyfriend. You know the one. There’s nothing wrong with faceclaims but lmfao, girl,,,,)

I’m sure that’s not true for everyone! I am incredibly picky about art. It’s my job. There’s nothing wrong with your card deck of cell-shaded boys of ambiguous age and ethnicity who all have the same button nose and smirk if it Sparks Joy for you.

But if your goal is not only to delight yourself, but to sell books, it’s in your best interest to remember that art, like writing, is a form of communication. The publishing industry runs on pitches: querys, blurbs, proposals, self-promo tweets. What if we applied that logic to our visuals? How can we utilize our character design and art to communicate as much about our stories as possible, in the most enticing way?

Social media has already driven the embrace of this concept in a very general sense. Authors are now supposed to have ~ aesthetics. “Picspams” or graphics, modular collages that function as mini moodboards, are commonplace. But the labor intensity and relative scarcity of character art visible in bookish circles, even on covers, means that application of marketing sensibility to it is less intuitive than throwing together a pinterest board.

Since we were talking about it earlier, WICKED SAINTS, as a case study of a recent “successful” fantasy YA debut, arguably owed a lot of its early social media momentum to fanart.

(Early fanart by @warickaart)

The most frequently drawn character, Malachiasz, has long hair, claws, and distinctive face tattoos. WS has a strong aesthetic in general, but those features clearly marked his fanart as him in a way even someone unfamiliar with the book could clearly track across different styles. Different interpretations of his tattoos from different artists even became a point of interest.

(Art by Jaria Rambaran, also super early days of WS Being A Thing)

Aside from distinctiveness, it's a clear visual representation of his history as a cult member, his monstrous powers, and the story’s dark, medieval tone. The above image is also a great example of character interaction, something missing from straightforward portraits, that communicates a dynamic. Character dynamics draw people into stories: enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, childhood rivals, platonic life partners, love triangles, devoted siblings, exes who still carry the flame-- there’s a reason we codify these into tropes, and integrate that language and shared knowledge into our marketing. For another example in that vein, I really love this art by @MabyMin, commissioned by Gina Chen:

The wrist grip! The fancy outfits! These are two nobles who hate each other and want to bone and I am sold.

In terms of true portraits, the best recent example I can think of is the set @NicoleDeal did for Roshani Chokshi’s GILDED WOLVES (I believe as a preorder incentive of some kind?):

They showcase settings, props, and poses that all communicate the characters’ interests, skills, and personality, as well as the glamorous, elaborate aesthetic of the overall story. Even elements in the gold borders change, alluding to other plot points and symbology.

For painterly accuracy in character portraits on covers, I love SPIN THE DAWN. The heroine looks like a beautiful badass, yes, but the thoughtful, detailed rendering of every element, soft textures, and dynamic, fluid composition form a really cohesive, stunning illustration that presents an intriguing collection of story elements.

The devil isn’t always in the details, though: stark, moody, highly stylized or graphic art with an emphasis on textural contrast and bold color and shape rather than representational accuracy can communicate a lot (emotionally and tonally) while pretty much foregoing realism.

The new Lunar Chronicles covers are actually the best examples I found of this (Trying to stay within the realm of existing bookish art rather than branch into All Art Of Human Figures Forever):

Taking cues from styles more typical of the comics and video game industries. (Games and comics, as visual mediums, are sources of incredible character art and I highly recommend following artists in those industries if you want to See More Cool Art On Your Timeline.)

TL;DR: Character art and design, as a marketing tool (even an incidental one) should be as unique to your story and your characters as possible, and tell us about the story in ways that make us want to read it. I tried to give examples because there are so many ways to do this, and so many different kinds of art, and I could give many more! But I’m bored now. So to circle all the way back:

These are not just bad because they look like each other, although that is embarrassing and illuminating. These are bad covers (although,,,,, PRINCESS is the far worse offender, at least FIRELIGHT suggests a thoughtful cultural analogue) because a desire for Pretty Character Art overrode the basic cover function to tell us about the story. We get no sense of who these people are, what their relationships are, what these books are about beyond the most general genre, or why we might care. The expressions are vague, the characters generic-looking, the compositions uninteresting and the colors failing to be indicative of anything in particular.

They’re somebody else’s baby pictures.

(And yes, that’s the CRUEL PRINCE font on PRINCESS. I better not have to do a roundup post but it’s on thin fucking ice.)

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bo-bo-bean · 3 years

Text

The Dance

It was the party of the year, always set on the punctual date of February fourteenth; the Valentine’s day plaza celebration. People can express their love and feelings through music and everyone else dances, couple up, and help themselves to refreshments. There were light pink and red heart shaped lights hanging on light posts, flower petals scattered on the ground, the air being a little cold. It gave all the more reason to snuggle up with your partner. Everyone was there in the bask of the lovely light, Mayday an Zuke entering the scene.

“Huh, didn’t they use daisies last time?” Zuke wondered out loud, looking at the rose petals on the pavement.

“Yeah, but this is totally wicked!” Mayday jumped up and down. Zuke chuckled at her usual enthusiasm. She was just here to dance and get energy out. Plus there was nothing good on TV and they were bored.

Mayday looked at the food table and rushed over, Zuke following behind her as he always did and watched her down some pigs in a blanket. He looked around more and thought maybe this dance would be his saving grace.

It had been seven months since he had feelings towards Mayday. He knew they were feelings of love since he experienced them before with Nadia. His heart yearning to hug her close, wanting to make her smile, and his head flushed around her. It was as obvious as the blush he gains when she offers her brightest smile on her best day.

Of course, he couldn’t say anything. What if it ended like with him and Eve? Then again, he knew it had to happen. He felt a tight feeling in his chest as he looked up at Mayday.

‘She looks so beautiful…’ he thought to himself. ‘It’s just a few words… May, would you like to dance with me?’ He breathed in, letting his chest swell like a balloon to push away any nervous thoughts, then he sighed out and looked up. She looked excited to see something, but maybe she would still be able to hear him.

“It’s time to split in two and dance!” Zam announced, managing the songs. This was it. His chance.”

“May, uhm… would you like to uhm… dance with me-”

“Oh my gosh!!!” she squealed, looking at a boy band. 1010… of course… they were each dancing synchronized, chorusing lines. “I should ask someone from 1010 to dance with me!”

And the balloon deflated. As did his expression. 1010…? A member from 1010…? His hand was raised slightly, it staying there as May looked lovestruck.

“Uh… nevermind…” he muttered out. His whole world collapsed. His eyes felt watery as she excitedly ran to the band. And then… he was alone. He stared as Rin took her by the waist and dance with her. She was squealing and holding his shoulders.

His heart dropped in his stomach and at the impact, he felt himself shiver. How much more of a fool could he make himself? He wobbly went over to a bench and sat down, hunched down. “... 1010…?” he shuddered. “... God… why am I such… What do they have I don’t?” He looked up to try and answer his own question, which regrettably, was easy to know. “Looks… charm… wittiness… robotic…”

No wonder Mayday asked to dance with them. Zuke felt he shouldn’t be upset. Mayday was happy. That’s all that mattered. But… he couldn’t help it. He felt some tears trail down his cold cheeks, to which he quickly wiped them away and played with his hair. His heart; it stung. It hurt. Why did it hurt so much? He gave a little sniffle, which attracted someone nearby.

Before he knew it, someone sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked to see Eve giving a concerned expression.

“I know that sniffle from anyone,” she said. “Zuke, what’s wrong?”

Should he even tell her…? Well it didn’t matter the answer, he felt his mouth speak for him so he didn’t have to.

“May… wants to dance 1010…”

Eve looked up at the fiery girl laughing with the band, then back at the sad excuse for a lake. A puddle. It just grew smaller. Even though him and Eve broke up, they remained friends. They went out to cafes a lot and chatted and laughed until their sides hurt. He even still showed interest in her art.

So seeing him like she felt… it hurt. He didn’t deserve to feel the same pain she had. Sure, before, she would’ve relished in this, but he was close to her in a whole new way. Someone to lean on. She scoffed and stood up, crossing her arms.

“And you’re just going to let her?” she asked.

“Well… she likes 1010 and… they are better than me,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Don’t be a pedestrian,” she scolded slightly. “You KNOW her better than them all combined. You know Mayday.”

“Okay, but I’m not going to take her away from her happiness. She’s clearly happy with-”

“Zuke!” she raised her voice. “Now this is a dance party, not a sulk party! You love her. You need to show you love her! You need to shout it! Make a sculpture and smash it down in the name of love! Now.”

She took his arm and dragged him to the refreshments table, getting him some punch and putting it in his hand. “Drink.”

He sighed and did so. He was thirsty anyway. He finished the cup and was taken aback with Eve thrusted a bouquet of flowers into his arms. “Now, there is a fire that needs water. You both will create a steam to make each heart warm up and yearn for more. Are you going to let this slide?”

“... n-no…” he blinked a bit.

“It sounds like you just want to hand Mayday to 1010 and give up…!”

“I-I don’t…!”

“Then are you going to let this happen!?”

“No!” he shouted, breathing in as Eve pushed him towards the crowd as another love song started.

“Then you go get Mayday. And you love her and never let her go!”

Zuke stared at the crowd, looked at Eve, and smiled.

“Thanks, Nadia…” he chuckled.

“What are friends for?” she giggled. “Now go, shoo shoo.”

He laughed a bit and then put on a brave face. He went to 1010, who were taking turns spinning Mayday until she was nothing but a giggling mess. He felt like he was about to melt watching her, but kicked those feelings aside for now. This was more important. 1010 saw Zuke approaching and smiled, dispersing away. Since they were in the center, the light shined in that spot the most, shading her beautifully. When everyone saw 1010 leave to reveal Mayday, they stared, watching as Zuke walked over, pride in his chest. Every amount he had at least.

Mayday looked up after the world stopped spinning and saw him approaching with flowers.

“Mayday,” he started. “... I… I want…”

She watched him struggle with his words. He could feel his pride start to shrink, but Eve cleared her throat near. He nodded to himself. “May, can I have this dance?”

“... Zuke…?” she blinked in surprise.

“I love you,” he felt his heart flood out, as well as some tears. “And I’ve held it in because… because of so many reasons. I didn’t want hurt you, I didn’t want to make things awkward, I didn’t want to be hurt, I didn’t… I didn’t want to lose you. And maybe I will. Maybe this will ruin everything, but I want to tell how I feel. Mayday, you’re everything to me…!” His face was damp with tears for the second time that night, but he didn’t care who saw this time. “You’re the sun I wake up to every morning and your… your charm, your leadership, your fire, your spirit; it keeps me going…! It always has been…! I follow you because I look up to you, but I want to just take charge this time. N-not in that way! Just… just if you don’t feel the same, it’s fine. It’s your feelings, not mine… and maybe this will be the last time I speak to you because you’ll hate me after this. But I just… I want… one dance…”

The plaza was at a standstill as Zuke felt himself bawl and covering his red face. Some hearts dropped at the sight, but Mayday looked the most upset. How could he feel like this for so long? How long was it even? She quickly went over and took his arms as the flowers dropped from his grip. She wiped some tears away from his face. He looked down at her, ready for pity…

“... you’re such a goofball,” she giggled. She bent down and got a flower, putting it in his dreadlocks. She wiped any remaining tears and pecked him on the nose, giving that oh so bright smile. “I should’ve listened, huh? Zuke… I’d love to dance with you.”

He breathed out a bit raggedy, looking at her and her bright pink flower eyes. She led his hands onto her sides, above her hips, and put hers on his shoulders. “Honestly? 1010 is cool…! But no one could replace my buddy. And… I think… I love you, too.”

“You… think…?” he questioned.

“Well like around you, I wanna puke but in a good way? Not like ‘Ew you’re disgusting’ but like ‘I wanna say I like you, but it might come out as barf.’ And like you’re the only one who can make me smile like this…! So… you know what? Yeah! Yeah, I love you, Zuke! I love you so much!!!”

She said this in a way like announcing it to the world, to which the plaza applauded and cheered, Zam putting on a slow love song. Zuke felt like he was about to pass out, but he fought the urge. He danced slowly with Mayday in a circle, trying to believe this was real.

But the message became clear when May put her head on his chest, pulling him close, looking relaxed. Only one could make water steam… and only one could warm up water. He rested his chin on her head.

“Thank you…” he said lightly.

“Heh… you were the one who admitted it first! I’ve been holding it in for two years!”

“O-oh wow,” Zuke looked down at her with wide eyes. “That’s… a long time.”

“Yeeaaahh maybe, but now… we’re a thing! And we can call it dates when we go out for burgers! Ooooh burgers sound great right now!”

“Heh, well, we can grab some on the way back?” he offered. She squealed and kissed him for the first time that night, energetic as always.

“That sounds awesome!! Also don’t look now, but I think 1010 is super jelly,” she whispered.

“Haha, let them,” he laughed. “Let’s enjoy this night.”

“I already am,” she went back to resting on him. And so, the rest of the night was played out perfectly. The two danced together song after song, resting on a bench to eat snacks, and dance some more. It was no lucky guess that things would be up from now on at this point.

@nsr-simp

#nsr #no straight roads #Zuke #Mayday #Eve #Mayzuke #1010

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randomstarmuffin · 3 years

Photo

My @runefactorysecretsanta gift for ya_boi_nye is finally done!! Hope I did your favorite characters justice!! :)

Happy holidays!!!! I don’t want to take up too much room so I’m going to throw some rambling and extras under the cut lol

So I don’t think nye has a tumblr, but on their twitter i saw that they were into VTube and youtaite and i wanted to incorporate that in their gift somehow. Unfortunately.... the characters are kind of all already anime??? So drawing-wise, i figured it would be more fun to go with a more general YouTuber AU so I could put in some variety rather than just stills of singing or badly rendered 3D models (by which i am throwing shade on myself alone, VTube rigs are sick but i regrettably have no 3D skills lol)

I’ve actually,,, never played Frontier at all, so I apologize if anyone is wildly out of character!! The wiki is extremely sparse and I didn’t have time to watch too too much of the let’s play i found, so if they’re not right just chalk it up to the YouTuber ~performance~ aspect of this AU lmao.

Even though I’ve never played before and don’t know the characters Super well though, I still had a lot of fun thinking about this AU! If you want to know the specifics of everyone’s content:

Anette does parkour (fun facts, this particular move i drew is called a speed vault!) and a little bit of vlogging, and she’s friends with Erik (as in canon, if I did my research correctly lmao). She sometimes appears on his channel and vice versa, and he helps her film and edit and stuff sometimes. She lives and works with Mist and Rosetta and helps out with their online boutique. Mist is the idea woman who comes up with crazy stuff, Rosetta is the realist and bookkeeper who pulls those ideas together into something feasible and profitable, and Anette handles all the packaging and shipments and stuff! There’s always something weird going on in their apartment and everyone ends up there a lot, so some of Anette’s vlogs get really popular just because of how out there they are lmao. Oh, almost forgot, but her channel is “DeliveryIsFreestyle” bc... get it... free delivery... freestyle parkour / freerunning... Lol actually it was almost going to be “RunTheMail” because i couldn’t think of anything at first so i think this was the right move in the end :P

Erik has a gaming channel where he mostly plays farming and dating sims / otome, and we don’t read too far into whether or not RF exists in this universe for him to play even though I put the posters for frontier on his wall xD. The reason I picked Stardew for this thumbnail specifically is because A) I have it and could easily take screenshots and B) i read that he has a crush on Lara? And she’s like, kind of a nurse? And Maru is kind of a nurse? It’s a silly joke but I thought it would be funny to cockblock him from dating a nurse he has his eyes on even in video gaming with his friends lol. His channel is pretty self-explanatory (I was really hoping his farm would have a fun name when i was looking it up but it’s really just “Erik’s Farm” huh? ...but I probably shouldn’t judge, my dnd character’s wolf is named Wolf xD)

Lute paints!! I think he does a lot of speedpaints and mostly does traditional art, but I think he would have some digital skills hidden up his sleeve as well. And also I don’t know why at all bc I know the least about him out of all 4 of them, but I feel like he has done / does some of those like “how to draw anime” videos because I just think that’s funny. He has a bunch of really popular ones about overly complicated fantasy outfits. No this is not a callout for any series in particular why do you ask? Anyway, I’m not sure exactly how the line goes because I couldn’t find it, but the wiki mentions that he’ll say he’s not doing anything suspicious when he’s painting at the lake, so i thought it would be funny if there’s some kind of running gag with his subscribers where they point out suspicious things he does and he responds in the next video or whatever. The thumbnail I made definitely does just have a screenshot of rff that’s color-corrected and blurred, because I ran out of time but also wanted to differentiate the bg from the canvas ^^; His channel was originally just “lute” in all lowercase but then i got to the part of the let’s play where he was introduced and he calls himself a “fledgling painter” so i thought this was more fun.

And Eunice has a cooking channel!! She specializes in baking, but she also has a whole playlist along the lines of “Nutritious Food Can Still Taste Good!” where she talks about healthy eating habits but doesn’t buy into diet culture bc I personally HATE diet culture lmao. I think when that gets popular, she also maybe does a side thing about easily accessible workouts for all sorts of people who want to get into shape? But with a focus on getting stronger / being active and Not a focus on Losing Weight necessarily. Promoter of healthy and happy living! I know how her events / dialogue can go in the game, i just happen to have Opinions About Things, so, that’s how she is in my version. Also, unrelated, but she’s very cute. Even though her braids were a bitch to draw hahaha. And i did end up drawing her just in her actual outfit even though i gave everyone else different clothes bc idk it just felt like it fit the aesthetic of a cooking vlog well?? And it’s not a super complicated one unlike others i could mention. Her channel is “Charming Sweets” and her cooking series is “My Cooking” because those are the titles of the books she has on her bookshelf at the start of the game :)

But that’s just all of *my* headcanons for the AU! If anyone else who knows them all better has their own ideas, please be my guest and imagine it however you like!!

Oh, also, fun facts, this is partially a screenshot of my actual web browser, lol, so if y’all want to know what all I have saved on my bookmarks bar and what my google profile pic is, now you know. However, i would like to not downplay how long i spent editing this in what was possibly the least efficient way to put it together how i wanted, rip, which is entirely the reason i am posting this so late LOL. Apologies for the delay, but technically it’s still the 27th here, so! Victory!

(speaking of the layout, did anyone catch the url? I’m disproportionately proud of the url. though i won’t lie part of me really wanted to put the rick roll url there just for my own amusement hahaha)

And, yeah! That’s the end of my spiel. Happy end-of-2020 to all, and an extra helping of that sentiment to nye!!!

#rfss2020 #rune factory #rff #rune factory frontier #rf anette #rf erik #rf lute #rf eunice #my art

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lilyharvord · 3 years

Note

I’m not sure whether you take prompts in general and if you would for the shades of magic but here we go just in case :) you know in a gathering of shadows when alucard barges into lila and kell, I’ve always thought he would give her shit about it but never knew what the conversation would be so that idk?your writing is also amazing and you’re so talented

AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA Okay I’m so excited because you’re the first person to ask me to do a Shade of Magic Prompt???!!! I am totally open to doing prompts, my ask box is always open ((((: . (hella nervous cause this would be my first intro to the fandom, but I’m so here for this!!!!) *cracks knuckles* I did it. ((((:

Sometimes, Delilah Bard wanted to watch the world burn. It was nothing personal, never. But sometimes, it needed to burn. And right now, as she lost another round of Sanct to Alucard, it needed to go up like a tinder box.

“You’re cheating.” She grumbled, tossing her cards unceremoniously onto the pile. Her old captain smirked, the little white scar above his eye where his sapphire used to rest crinkling

“That is how one plays Sanct, Bard.” He laughed as he pulled the pile of loot towards him. Fingering a particularly nice precious stone that Lila had been loath to give up, he smirked. “I’ll play you in another round just to show you.”

“I’ve already emptied my pockets, and I don’t plan to lose anything else.” Lila pushed her chair back along the plush carpet of his rooms. Reaching for her half full glass of dark red liquid, she gazed out at the Isle, glowing faintly in the evening light.

Resting the rim of the glass against her lip, she tried to ignore the beauty of the view. She didn’t miss it like Kell did, but whenever they did return, she found herself having a hard time leaving it behind as the Nightspire pulled away from dock. While her mind had stopped chanting run whenever she felt that gentle tug she associated with staying put, she still refused to admit she wanted to remain in London. The sea was still her calling... and it didn’t hurt being captain of her own ship.

The past few months they had been away had been harder on Kell than ever before. It had been almost three years since Osaron, and yet that pain had never left him. He waved her concern away at every turn, but it didn’t stop her from asking around in markets and taverns. Subtle questions about magic and it’s loss. She blamed Holland, of course, he had been the one still drawing on their magic in the end. A little warning could have saved them the pain Kell dealt with now.

Her brow creased and her reflection in the polished glass mimicked it. The other Antari had long been quiet. Kell didn’t speak of him, and Lila didn’t exactly mind that. It still worried her though.

“Gold for your thoughts?”

“You have all my gold.” Lila forced a smirk, her short cropped hair shifting as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Very well,” Alucard sighed as he leaned back in his chair and took up his own glass of wine, “I’m thinking that if those two don’t hurry up I’m going to die of boredom in this very room.”

“How regrettable.” Lila bemoaned mockingly, before sipping at her drink. It was sweeter than any wine he had ever given her but just as rich, if not richer. Being a close confidant of the King certainly helped support her friend’s expensive tastes.

“It is regrettable, Bard. Because I’ll blame that royal pain-in-the-ass for it, and then who will keep you company on those long voyages?” His lips curled into a rapier sharp grin as he gazed at her over the rim of his glass.

Setting her glass back down on the table and standing over the captain turned noble turned consort, Lila frowned down at him. Her fingers danced to the knife strapped into her thigh, hidden beneath the lovely new coat she had bought today. It had even more pockets and straps for her to hang and hide knives, much to Kell’s chagrin when she showed him. Alucard didn’t appear the slightest bit swayed by her posturing though, in fact, his eyes burned with mischief at the sight of her reaction.

“I do not need constant companionship, unlike you.” She ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass, calling up a bead of wine that she flicked his direction. He barely swiped it out of the way before it could splatter on his pristine white shirt. it plopped onto the table, and Lila laughed at his offended expression before lifting the glass completely to down the last of that delicious, honey sweet wine.

“That’s not what I saw years ago.” Alucard’s grin returned in full force when she set the glass back onto the table, earning Lila’s full attention with those words. Her brow quirked in speculation, and she drummed her fingers on the table, awaiting a further explanation.

Searching her memories for what he could possibly be referring to, she settled on a faint one of a closet sized cabin. A rush of heat bloomed along her cheeks, and she pushed off the table. “You’re insufferable.”

Howling with laughter at Lila’s retreat, Alucard swept up the cards from their games and shuffled them once more. “Play me in another round of Sanct,” he said with a wink, “and if you win, I’ll pretend I never saw that little... interaction.”

“There was nothing to see.” Lila slammed her hands on the table, furious that he would pick something she was so obviously poor at. If he had chosen something else, perhaps like magic, or knife throwing, or even pickpocketing she would have agreed to the wager.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen that royal bastard so flushed and bothered. Looked like there was plenty either about to happen or had just happened.” Alucard bridged the cards to shuffle them, lifting his eyes to Lila’s mismatched ones for a heartbeat. That glossy black orb she had for a black eye winked in the light as she jeered at him for his comment.

“Nothing happened.” Lila reiterated as she picked up her glass to pour herself another one. Insufferable, he was so insufferable. Perhaps she should chuck him in the Isle, watch him paddle to the side and get out dripping wet. Then again, Rhy might thank her for that. On second thought, maybe she should bury him in the floor up to his waist, or perhaps open a door into a wind blown bluff and leave him there.

The whisper of cards skidding across the table filled the silence as Lila lifted her now full glass back to her lips and drank deeply. When she glanced over her shoulder, Alucard waved an inviting hand to the table. “Tell you what,” he said before leaning his elbows forward and smirking at her, “if you agree to play another hand with me, I’ll stop bothering you about it.”

It seemed a little too good to be true. Something like that was bound to keep Alucard entertained for years to come. He wouldn’t give leverage up so easily, unless he had gone soft during his time in the palace, which Lila very much doubted.

Slinking back to the table, she sat with a grunt in her chair and tapped the cards she had been dealt. “What do you get out of it?”

“Well,” picking up his cards, Alucard shrugged, “just because I stopped annoying you with it, doesn’t mean I won’t go after our lovely black eyed prince about it.”

Lila’s mouth opened to refute him, and tell him to leave Kell alone about the whole thing. He was like a skittish pony where topics like that were concerned. If Alucard brought it up... Christ help them all. She hesitated a moment though, a bright smile pull on her lips. Oh he would go as red as his hair if Alucard brought it up, and he’d stammer and stumble to try and defend himself, or her honor. Oh it might just be worth the entertainment.

Chuckling to herself, Lila lifted up the cards and grinned at the three saints in her hand. “If I win, I want that hat you have hanging over there.” She pointed the midnight blue one, with the peacock feather sticking out of it. It would complete her new ensemble, and as a captain it was only fitting that she have nice things like that.

Alucard frowned, and glanced warily in the direction of the hat. Chuckling to himself, he laid his cards face down again and reached for the lin in his pile. Tossing it to the center of the table, he winked, “if you lose, I bring that story up in front of the entire court.”

Lila reached into her pocket for the remaining two lin she had and pressed them to the table. With a wicked grin, she slid them into the pile and said, “very well.”

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

Text

The Click-- Calum Hood (soulmate!au)

It’s here! I’ve never written soulmate stuff before so this is probably really different from what you’ve normally read, and it’s different from what I normally write but this really has a part of my heart in it. Inspired by Lang Leav’s wonderful works (the poems up above) and some weird instances I’ve been having.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: none, no smut whatsoever (I know who am I?)

Son inspiration: Then I saw You by Tatiana Manois and Surrender by Natalie Taylor

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. *copyright is listed at bottom*

• • • •

Two strangers both alike in mind have a book propped open with words inked in of love and heartbreak and other musings. They are alike because they mark their favorite poems by dog ears and highlights with little scrawls of their own thoughts scratched into the margins.

Late night for her, early morning for him as they’re on two different sides of the country, it’s not just miles that separate them, but the day and night. The moon comforts her and is her light as she reads of a love shared between two poets. The sun is his friend and a warm embrace as he delves deeper and deeper into the pages of the same love but tinged with an air of sophisticated provocativeness.

While on their Spotify playlists, the same artists and songs are shared between the two. Music and lyrics, words, and prose, two hearts longing for the same thing.

A love to be written about, a love to be shared, an adventurous love that is unique because it is their own. In both their minds, that kind of love doesn’t seem tangible. To be added to their likeness, they’re both the only single ones amongst their friends and have been for a while.

Calum showered his friends in love, giving his friends small gifts and helping in any way that he could. He was always down for a good time, sharing laughs and making memories. Rose was the same, she enjoyed being with her friends and family.

In the daylight they appeared fine and well put together but going home to an empty house in a lonely bed is where they felt the weight of their ache. Sometimes it kept them both up, reading their poetry books or writing their own. His were songs while hers were just words but the premise was the same, dreaming of love.

She received an opportunity of a lifetime to go to school for her writing. A quiet dream she’d held safe in the privacy of her own mind. It was thrilling yet terrifying moving to a whole new city, the city of angels. Her best friend stayed with her for a week helping her adjust in her new albeit small studio apartment.

It was a steal that was right above a coffee bookshop, a place where she’d also received a job. When she wouldn’t be in school, she’d be working to help pay for rent. While she unpacked and decorated her place, she kept pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

When her classes started, she was up by 4 a.m. because of her nerves and her excitement, it bundled up inside her. She ran through her schedule three times, checked her bag that she had the right textbooks and her small laptop.

She read her favorite poems until it was time for her first class. The owner of the shop already had her coffee made to her liking with a cranberry orange muffin already in a bag.

“Thanks Teresa,” she smiles, taking the goodies.

“Have a great first day! Do you want a picture with your bag?” Teresa is a kind, thirty-something year old woman. She’s living her dream owning a coffee bookshop and has the kindest smile.

“I’m okay, don’t need a reminder I’m starting with kids fresh outta high school.”

“You’re not that much older, twenty-five is still young, Rose,” Teresa smiles. “Enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” she smiles then waves with her pinky.

Her first day of classes is just how she thought they’d be, the awkward introductions that she rehearsed in her head before speaking, going through the itinerary for the semester and then reading a few chapters and taking some notes. Rose loved every minute of it.

During lunch and her breaks, she reread through each itinerary again and bookmarks the pages in her textbook she’ll be needing. In between that, she reads her poetry book and jots down a few of her own thoughts.

Then, the day is done and she starts her four hour shift at the bookshop that would last until closing time at 9:30. Rose quickly discovered that this would be a very easy job because it didn’t get a rush of people for dinner.

Some other students she passed on campus would stop in with a friend and share a cup of coffee or tea. By 7:30 there were only a couple of people scattered about the shop, books, or tablets in front of them as the soft indie music played throughout.

Rose gathers her books into her bag behind the counter before she moves to the bookshelf wall to restock the books left on the small wooden tables. She finds herself humming along to a song she knows when there’s a commotion outside.

The other guests inside turn to look as well through the windows framed in the purple and blue twilight shade to see a couple. They’re the source of the noise as both their voices rise over the other and when he throws his arms in the air that’s when Rose turns back to her task.

Clearly whatever was happening outside was a private moment and Rose couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the saying ‘outside looking in’ while she’s inside but was just looking into their outside debacle. Her mind always thinks of outlandish things like that, she calls it her circle thinking because she can run with the same thought over and over.

It doesn’t make sense to others, but it does to her.

After a few moments, she glanced outside, and the couple was gone. The streetlights had flickered on and she could see stars poking through the darkened sky. She hopes she’ll see the moon upstairs.

After the last guest leaves, she locks the door and sweeps up the shop, wipes down tables and locks the cash drawer in the small vault in the back. She checks that the back door is locked after tossing the garbage out quickly and runs upstairs to her studio apartment. She makes a cup of hot cocoa before bed and reads and writes into her favorite poetry book, her journal next to her.

The hot cocoa made her sleepy and she fell fast asleep with her book atop her chest. She dreamed of someone that held a powerful connection with her, he understood her and made her smile. By morning, the dream slipped away with the stars and she started her new routine over again.

***

Calum’s fingers tap impatiently on the laminate surface of the table as he sat through this meeting. It was mundane but necessary that he be here because the band had decided to take a year off. The world is still in recovery from the pandemic and they agreed collectively to hold off on anything until there was some decent footing again.

He’s been in a bit of a mood since he and Zoe fought a few weeks ago after having dinner. They weren’t exclusive, only seeing each other on occasion and that night she brought up soulmates. She was almost nagging at him that he wasn’t hers and that they were wasting their time when he reminded her, she was the one to call him.

He hasn’t heard from her since.

His mind wandered throughout, thinking of ways he can occupy the next 365 days when he wasn’t writing music. Music is his life; it’s always been a constant and has pulled him through some tough situations and has uplifted him in joyous ones. On the TV stuck to the wall there was a news report scanning at the bottom that the university not too far from his home has the highest enrollment rate.

That piques his interest. He reads the closed caption below the broadcaster as it says open enrollment has become the new norm, welcoming students from all ages to attend. This information strikes a chord within Calum and he’s found what he wants to do with his year off.

When the meeting had finally finished, Calum decided to head over to the university and see if he could still enroll. The semester started only a few weeks ago but with this new window of free time, he’s sure he could catch up.

Enrolling turned out to be easy. He had a meeting with a counselor to discuss what his intentions were and if there was any specific study he wanted to get into. He selected creative writing and psychology, bought his books, got his schedule and he was officially a college student.

The night before his first class, Calum is restless. He tosses. He turns. He stares out the window of his room, the moon winking at him through the small opening of the curtain. Duke is snoring softly to his left and Calum’s mind is racing.

Thoughts tumble over one another, scenarios flash across his mind and then he hears a random melody in his head that sounds too familiar and it helps him drift off to sleep.

***

Calum is racing to get to his first class, he didn’t wake up to his alarm until thirty minutes after the intended time and he blamed it all on a dream. A dream that felt so real he thought the woman in his subconscious was still speaking to him in his ear.

He threw on the first article of clothing his fingers touched, gargled with mouthwash, and shoved a beanie on his head. Regrettably, he didn’t have time to stop for coffee and he hoped there would be some sold on campus somewhere.

Calum just got settled into his seat at the back of the lecture when the Professor stood at the front and began to speak. Thankfully, Calum retrieved notes from the three weeks he missed and read them all weekend, so he picked up easily with what the Professor is talking about.

He smiles to himself, maybe he is cut out for school.

Calum is surprised how drained he feels after his first day. His head is swimming with new knowledge and he’s anxious to get home and get to work. On his walk back to the parking structure where his car is parked, he sees the coffee bookshop he and Zoe fought in front of almost a month ago.

The sign above the bay window reads ‘CBS’ and in smaller print below that it reads ‘coffee bookshop’ and he smiles at the simple cleverness. He remembers Ashton has gone in there a few times and said the coffee is great. Calum makes a promise to himself that he’ll stop there tomorrow morning before class to grab a cup.

His night is spent reading over the homework and answering a few of the discussion questions while Duke sat in his lap. Calum tried writing down the lyrics of the song he heard this morning, but he couldn’t distinguish what they were. To wind down, he had his favorite Michael Faudet book propped on his stomach as he read through each page.

He reads through his own writing; his words transport him to that point in time when the words flowed out of him effortlessly. One poem resonates in his mind as he reads about love being compared to that of a rose and the lilting melody from this morning trickled into his ears again and he instantly relaxed. His mind quieted and his eyelids felt heavy as he replayed the same simple notes over and over.

A beautiful melody without any words.

The loud vibration of his phone woke him up before the actual song did, but he leapt out of bed immediately. The promise of a hot cup of coffee egged him on to take a shower and dress in something nicer than a wrinkled band shirt he had on yesterday.

Traffic wasn’t that bad, and he parked his car on the first level of the structure and he still had forty-five minutes until his first class. Today is shaping up to be the start of a good one and just as he locks his phone so he can open the door of the CBS, he collides with a body.

Books go flying. His phone clutters to the ground and he panics at the fatality that could be evident in the million cracks of his screen. Rushed ‘sorry’s’ are exchanged between him and the stranger as they scramble to gather their things. Their bodies twist away from each other as he shoves his books and pens back into his bag.

When he stands to apologize again, she’s already bustling away, her red scarf blowing behind her in the morning breeze. He sighs then heads inside to examine his phone, but he looks back again to try and get a glimpse of her face. She’s already gone. While they were scrambling to get their belongings, he noted how the smell of coconuts, vanilla, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on, invaded his nostrils. It made him think of the ocean.

He examines his phone to find there isn’t a scratch on it and when he unlocks it there’s a picture of the poem he read last night. Roses. The girl he bumped into smelled of roses.

***

Rose is having an off day. Her alarm didn’t even go off and she put in a generous amount of dry shampoo in her hair but resulted in putting on a hat. She didn’t even have time to get her coffee and muffin from Teresa for she rushed out the front door and collided with some guy.

Without her coffee it was hard for her to focus and when she got called on in class, she had to ask the professor to repeat the question because she didn’t hear it. Then her laptop crashed, and she couldn’t work on an assignment that’s due by Friday.

By the time she made it to CBS, she didn’t want to work her shift. Customers were being needy and rude and all she wanted to do was take a hot shower and read. After eating a quick microwave dinner, Rose took a hot shower then turned on her favorite playlist titled ‘Blue’ for moments like this.

She opens her bag to grab her poetry book, ‘The Universe of Us’ but finds its exact counterpart of Lang Leav; Michael Faudet’s book ‘Cult of Two’ lays on her table.

Did she put that in her bag by mistake?

It was a rough morning so it is possible, but she could have sworn she grabbed the book from her bedside table. Sighing, Rose takes the book to place it back on her shelf then becomes more confused when she sees the same book in her hands, perched snugly on the shelf with her other poetry books.

Rose knows she only has one copy, so where did this one come from and where is her book? She tosses the white paperback onto her bed and empties her whole bag, checking each book twice. How could she have lost it? It’s always buried safely in the bottom of her bag and she didn’t take it out all day except--

Rose gasps. This morning when she was leaving the shop she bumped into a guy and all their belongings went flying. She must have grabbed his book by mistake, and he grabbed hers. Panic sets in, she’s written down some of her innermost thoughts in that book, personal things.

Now this random stranger has her soul in his hands, and she might never see him again. With angry tears in her eyes she crawls into bed while Lewis Capaldi’s voice thrums around her walls. Needing comfort, she opens the strangers’ book then snaps it shut just as fast because there’s handwriting on the pages.

Just like hers.

***

Calum is reading about the red string of fate. After that run in with the girl outside CBS a month ago, he read through her book and became transfixed with those words she wrote down. He knows he shouldn’t have read her thoughts, but once he started, he couldn’t stop. Clearly the poetry captivated her, but her words captivated him.

The red string of fate is a Japanese legend meant to tie soulmates together by their pinkies. No matter the circumstance, the time or place, the two will always find each other. It may stretch and it may tangle but it will never break. He’s never heard of it before now, but he’s become obsessed with the idea of it.

Every morning he’s stopped by CBS to see if he’ll run into her again so he can return her book, but he’s never seen her. His classes are going well and he’s learning so much, his creativity is overflowing. Much of that is because of this girl’s book.

Its spine is overly creased from endless love of reading, some words are highlighted and circled. Pages are dog eared on what he assumes are her favorite poems. Calum smiled the first time he paged through it all because he’s written in his book as well. He wonders if she’s read any of his musings yet.

“Bro, I haven’t seen you without that book. Where’s yours?” Ashton asks while they’re out for lunch.

“Um, I lost it actually. I bumped into this girl outside the CBS and our things scattered everywhere. We switched books,” Calum explains flipping the pages. “She writes it in like I do.”

“You read it? Mate,” Ashton sighs exasperatedly, “that’s an invasion of privacy.”

“I know, I know! But I can’t get enough of it. She’s smart and passionate in what she writes. I wish I got a better look at her when I bumped into her so I could return it.”

“There’s no name inside?”

“Nope. She could be in one of my classes for all I know,” Calum sighs then picks away at the corner of the cover. “What was it like when you and Ruby found each other?”

Ruby is Ashton’s soulmate and they’ve been together for almost two years now. Calum remembers the change in Ashton when she came into his life, he was lighter.

“I heard her voice in my head.”

“What did she say?”

Ashton smiles, “My name.”

“Then how did you find her?”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to explain,” Ashton’s brows crease. “It was only a few days after I heard her voice that I knew her name. It came to me out of the blue. Do you remember anything about her?”

“She had on this red scarf and smelled like a rose.” Calum suddenly felt a wave of dizziness swim in his head and he held onto his temples.

“You okay?” Ashton reaches over as if to help but he’s not sure what’s happening to his friend.

“Woah, that was weird, I got super dizzy,” Calum says blinking a few times until he can see straight again. He removes his fingers from his temples and Ashton is giving him a funny look. “What?”

“What did she smell like again?” he leans forward.

“A rose, why--fuck!” the wave of dizziness crashes into him again and it’s like his brain is spinning in his head. When his vision returns Ashton is smiling gleefully. “Glad to see you enjoy my pain.”

“Don’t you see?! You got vertigo as soon as you said rose. That must be her name.”

“Really? Is that what happened when you said Ruby’s name?”

“Yeah basically, but it wasn’t this strong. She must be close,” Ashton looks around him as if she’ll appear out of thin air. “I suggest going to CBS morning and night, she’s gotta be there at some point.”

***

Rose is flicking through the pages of the new poetry book she acquired. Curiosity killed the cat and she just had to dig her claws between the pages because she’s sure he’s already done the same or will soon enough.

Some of his thoughts left her breathless and with an odd familiar feeling at the way it’s structured. Some of his sentences seem more like lyrics that she’s heard before but can never find the tune that goes with it.

She hadn’t been feeling well this morning, nausea and dizziness made her skip her classes and she laid in bed all day. It would come and go throughout the day and right before bed she drew herself a bubble bath with some candles. The flickering light created the perfect ambience while she read Faudet’s words and the mysterious stranger.

Where her notes are written in paragraphs or stanzas, his are scattered about the page. Sometimes she has to turn the book to read it upside down. The curse words make her laugh and sometimes there’s a fun little drawing.

It isn’t until she reaches the last few pages and she’s reading about a blue angel and knocking back a shot when she stumbles on a name that is not the author. It’s a name she’s heard before, a name she’s known of and has seen floating around her social media.

“Calum Hood,” she mumbles, and she instantly becomes dizzy again. It happens so fast it startles her, and she nearly drops the book into the bubbles. Somehow in her bewilderment she managed to let it flop onto the bathroom floor.

The bathwater and bubbles slosh over the sides as she reaches for the book again. Did she read that right? Her fingers leave dark, pudgy circles on the pages as she goes to that page again.

“Calum,” she breathes, and the room spins again causing her to drop the book once more. “Okay, okay, okay, okay. . .”

Rose gets out of the bath quickly, letting the water drain noisily as she dries off and puts on her pajamas. The spinning has stopped, and she sits cross legged in the middle of her bed, the poetry book open to the poem and her phone opened to Instagram and Twitter.

She’s been an avid fan for quite a few years now and to think if he was the one, she bumped into? With her thumbs hovering over the keyboard she closes her eyes trying to remember anything about him from that morning.

All she can remember is the rush to gather her things and his soft husky voice as he said sorry. She didn’t look at him once and it’s very possible she bumped into Calum Hood. Her mind racing, she texts every one of her friends that have already found their soulmates asking what and how it happened.

She needs answers because how odd is it that she’s felt dizzy and nauseous all day then sees his name, says it, and gets dizzy all over again? Is that what’s supposed to happen? Does this mean he’s been saying her name all this time as well?

Her friends' responses were pretty much the same. In each instance they heard his or her voice in their head say their name. Why hadn’t she heard his voice? Could he hear hers? Rose unlocks her phone and searches his name, turns out he’s gone back to school. The same school she’s attending but it doesn’t say what he’s studying, which is good because it must be annoying having everyone know what’s going on in your life.

Rose falls back onto her pillows burrowing under the covers and shuts off the light.

“Please let me go to school tomorrow, Calum,” she huffs then turns over to hug her pillow.

She swears she hears a ghostly laugh in her ear before sleep consumes her.

***

“I bite back.”

Calum still hears the soft voice from his dream, he can still feel the soft brush of her lips against his ear as she said those words. He’s staring up at the ceiling replaying the dream of sitting next to a girl. In his subconscious it felt like he already knew her, and they carried a conversation well. He doesn’t remember exactly what he was saying but he can hear those three words as if she were laying right next to him.

He greets Duke with quick kisses before letting him outside and Calum washes his face, brushes his teeth, and gets dressed. After he brings Duke in, Calum gathers his bags making sure The Universe of Us is right at the top.

He’s been going to CBS early each morning so he can sit and try to watch for the girl he bumped into. He has one cup of coffee and reads through her pages until it’s time to go for class. A few times he thought he recognized her, but the girl in question always turned out to be just a fan and wanted a quick chat and photo.

They never smelled like roses, so he knew it wasn’t her.

After his final sip of coffee, he flips to a page with the title ‘The One’ and he immediately goes to the girl’s handwritten words.

‘And I want you to be the one for me. The one who brings out my storm but also calms the waves. I want you to be my perfect counterpart. Is my red string frayed?’

Calum smiles at the last sentence. He wishes he could tell her that no, it isn’t frayed and he’s trying his damndest to find her. He gathers his things and heads out the door because his first class is starting in fifteen minutes.

Just as he walked out the door, if he would have waited one more minute, Rose came by his table and cleaned up his dishes to help Teresa out before she went on her way to class.

“How are you feeling today Rose?” Teresa asks, taking the dirty dishes from her.

“A little better,” Rose shrugs, “I can’t miss two days. Are you sure it’s alright I can switch my shift from tonight to tomorrow?”

“Of course. You need to catch up on what you missed, Colbie will cover for you. Take it easy, you still look a little pale,” Teresa frowns.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you,” Rose smiles then waves. “I’ll see you later.”

***

The day runs as normal for them both. Calum has felt this growing energy within him as if something is about to happen, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’s been looking at every woman he passes waiting to see if there’s a connection or a siren that will go off as if to say “that’s her! That’s her!” but he comes up short.

Rose still feels a little queasy throughout the day and she’s distracted because all she wants to do is read Calum’s poetry book to try and find another connection.

When the school day is over, she sets up her workspace at her favorite table by the bookshelf in a large, plush chair. Her own latte sits next to her while she quickly does her homework and opens the book. From the corner of her eye a tall figure sits in the chair on the other side of the table. She pays it no mind until there’s a loud crash.

The stranger knocked her cup to the floor, and it shattered, white foam and coffee filling up the grooves in the tile.

“Shit, I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” she says automatically.

They both reach for the largest fragment of broken cup; their pinkies touch and Rose feels something click inside her. Her skin is hot where he touches her, and with her heart pounding like a thousand horses running, she looks up.

He knew who she was before he looked into her eyes, when they came in such proximity, he smelled the roses and the coconut and the vanilla. When their pinkies touched, he felt a spark shoot up his veins, that’s the siren he’s been waiting for and when he looked into her eyes? Everything clicked into place.

“Rose?”

“Calum?”

They both laugh nervously, their pinkies still touching. Rose feels her cheeks warm and Calum can’t stop smiling at her. After their small moment, they clean up the mess of the broken cup and sit back in their respective chairs.

“I think this is yours,” she holds out his book that she was currently reading.

“And I believe--” he pulls out her book from his bag holding it up “--this is yours.”

Having it in her possession again makes it feel like a lost limb has been returned home. Calum flips through his own book noticing the wrinkled pages. He knows she read it and he’s so glad she’s the one who did. He watches her rifle through the pages, soft fingers tracing over words that have been printed and words she’s inked in herself.

“You’re a wonderful writer,” he comments, and her eyes flash up to him.

“You are too, but you’re a musician so that’s no surprise,” she giggles, and Calum loves the sound.

Talking comes easily between Calum and Rose, but how could it not when they’re soulmates? As the night gets longer and the shop is about to close, Rose invites him up for some tea and he gladly accepts.

While she’s setting up the kettle, he examines her bookshelf, some books he’s read, and others grab his attention that he wants to ask her about. Soft music fills the room and he smiles because this is on one of his playlists as well.

“How do you like your tea?” she asks, and Calum moves back to the kitchen area.

“Little bit of milk and honey and some sugar,” he smiles, watching her add the ingredients.

Their fingers brush again when he accepts the cup from her, another spark ignites but it starts a different type of warmth. Calum becomes very aware of both their actions. He’s aware of how close she sits next to him on the couch, he’s aware of the way she licks her lips and how badly he wants to kiss them.

“So, this is . . . a little crazy, right?” she laughs awkwardly, her finger circling the rim of the mug. “How did you find me? Did you hear my voice? Because I didn’t hear yours.”

“What did you experience then?” he asks, setting his mug on the small table in front of them.

“I was home for a whole day because I just felt really dizzy and nauseous, then when I was taking a bath and reading your book, I saw your name, said it out loud and had another dizzy spell. I think I dreamed of you, too. . .” her brows furrowed in confusion.

Calum tries not to let her small tidbit of information that she was in the bath when she said his name get to him, but he knows exactly what she’s talking about. He was at home playing with Duke when he felt another wave of dizziness hit, it came upon him so fast that he practically fell onto the couch. It felt different then when he said her name, it was stronger.

“I’m sorry, when I discovered your name, I kept saying it,” he admits fiddling with one of his rings.

“How’d you find out my name?”

“I was talking with my friend, Ashton and I told him about the day we collided and how you smelled like a rose. You know what’s funny? When we said each other’s name downstairs I didn’t feel dizzy, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” she shakes her head then looks at him, “what does that mean?”

“I--” he stops short when the song shifts, and he gasps. “I’ve had this melody stuck in my head for weeks, is this you singing?”

“Absolutely not,” Rose laughs and rises from the couch to turn it up on her phone. “It calms me down, so I play it a lot. What was--oh!”

She spun around and Calum was standing right in front of her. She didn’t realize how tall he is until right now and the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent reminds her of a home she’s come back to.

“I have an idea as to why we didn’t hear each other’s voices,” he says, stepping even closer.

“What’s that?” Rose licks her lips.

“We feel things, and instead of vocalizing them, we write them down or listen to it in music,” he tucks her hair behind her ear. “Even the books we read the authors are in love.”

Rose chuckles at that. “Yeah, what are the odds they’re our favorites?”

“Pretty high, since we were made for each other,” he smiles. His fingers tickle her cheek as he tilts her head up, her eyes are shining, and the smell of roses invades his senses. He inches his mouth closer to hers, “I’m ready to surrender to this, Rose.”

She nods and closes the small space between their lips and it’s as if everything stops. The only thing she can feel are his soft, warm lips on hers, the calluses of his fingers on her cheek and the way his other hand wraps around her waist. He pulls her close and she grabs hold of his shirt, kissing him is like a breath of fresh air.

He pulls her even closer, chest against chest and she gasps at the movement but welcomes his tongue excitedly. They kiss feverishly, as if this is the only time they have. But they have many more days and many more moments to make memories of.

They’re breathing heavily when they break the kiss, she feels him smile against her lips and gives her two soft pecks.

“Calum?”

“Hmm?” his thumb strokes her cheek affectionately.

“You made my world stop spinning.”

• • • •

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

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nejiten-lives-on · 4 years

Text

What Girls talk about//Nejiten fanfic

day 1 for nejiten month (sfw)

- by me :) @nejiten-lives-on

It didn't take the byakugan itself to tell that Tenten had liked Neji Hyuga.

At this point Tenten was losing all hope, for the past few months she had countless tries to catch Neji's eye. Unfortunately for her, all her attempts to get Neji to notice her failed miserably. Neji had the eyes of an eagle but yet failed to see Tenten in the way she wanted him to. (Or so she thought)

It was a girls day out, & Tenten couldn't wait to have a relaxing day. Hinata, Sakura, Ino, Tenten, & Temari (surprisingly) were all at a Boba shop together. Later on they would go to the Hyuga compound to enjoy a movie together. Then Ino said

"Hey guys, that guy over there is kinda cute, one of you guys should go talk to him."

Sakura growled "Why don't you go talk to him Ino-pig?"

"Because I've been trying to get with your new teammate billboard brow." Ino fired back.

"You must be really good with the guys since you get a new one almost every month or so Ino" Temari chuckled.

"What can I say, a pretty girl like me can't stay single for too long, but I think this time with Sai it's going to be different." Tenten noticed Ino quirky suppressed the urge to blush & chuckled a little.

"Tenten what are you laughing about." Ino said.

"Uh, nothing just thought of something."

"Or maybe someone." Temari smirked.

Ino & Sakura started giggling & she knew this wouldn't be as relaxing as she thought. As Shikamaru would put this, this would be troublesome.

"Tenten how about you try to talk with the guy over there?" Sakura said.

"Im good." Tenten shot back quickly.

"Ooh so you do have someone else in mind." Ino chuckled.

To her left side Hinata was just sitting quietly hoping the teasing wouldn't go to her next.

"I wonder who it is." Sakura sarcastically.

"I think its kind of obvious, lucky for her we're going to get to see him when we go Hinata's house later on." Ino said with a wide smirk.

Tenten quickly suppressed the urge to blush but failed.

"Could you guys not, I don't like that cold-hearted, possessive, ice cube of a human."

"Sorry Hinata." Tenten quickly added

"Its fine." Hinata said with a smile

Hinata was so sweet, unlike her cousin. Tenten thought. Who was sometimes sweet but for the most part prideful & self absorbed, but with a face like Nejis' who could really complain.

"Look she's probably thinking about it right now." Sakura said to Ino.

"You guys need to stop with the teasing." Temari said.

"Thank you Temari." Tenten said with an eye roll

"And you Tenten need to Neji how you feel." Temari said.

"Wow was it really that obvious that I got the hots for Hyuga.." Tenten Said.

"Yea it totally is." Ino said.

"To everyone but him." Tenten said with an eye roll.

Sakura & Ino began to chuckle again.

"What are you guys laughing at now?" Tenten said with a bit of annoyance in her tone.

"Well isn't it obvious that Neji likes you back?" Ino said.

"Uh no, cause he doesn't. He probably doesn't even consider me a girl." Tenten said.

"You guys are both oblivious to each other's feelings for one another" Temari said.

"I just think-, no I know that Neji’s feelings towards me don't go any further than to being his teammate & friend." Tenten said.

"if anything the most he considers me as is a training dummy." Tenten said with a half chuckle built in with a tone of annoyance.

"Well let's test your theory when we go to Hinata's house." Ino said.

"Speaking of Hinata.." Ino looked to the shy girl to her left "You & Kiba, anything going on between you two?" Ino asked with a smirk.

Hinata's face became crimson & she started drinking her Boba in hopes Ino would stop targeting her. Sadly Its didn't work.

Poor Hinata, Tenten thought.

As they were walking to Hinata's house a conversation sparked up.

"Hey Temari." Tenten said

"Yea Ten?"

"Who initiated the first move, you or Shikamaru?"

"Well surprisingly Shika did, told him some time too." Temari said with a light chuckle.

"But I mean it was worth the wait."

"Why Tenten do you ask, want Neji to make some moves on you?" Ino said teasingly.

Tenten rolled her eyes "Even if I did, Neji has way too much pride in him to even think of doing that."

"Okay so doesn't that mean that you have to be the one to make the first move?" Sakura said.

"I mean when you put it that way.. but Neji probably wouldn't want someone as simple & bland as me anyway." Tenten said with a sad tone.

"Aww Tenten don't feel that way, you are so beautiful." Temari said

"Hai, you really are Tenten." Hinata added.

"Yea for sure & you have a really nice figure whether Neji can see it or not." Sakura said

"Trust me I bet he has noticed, who knows if he may have used his byakugan on you for other non-training purposes." Ino said with a wide grin.

"Ino stop!" Tenten said with a crimson face.

I guess all that talking was useful, they got to the Hyuga compound really fast.

At the compound the girls said their greetings to Hiashi & went to Hinata's room first.

"Wow, your room is huge Hinata."

"You say that everytime Ino." Sakura said

"Because its true." Ino said with hands on her hips.

Temari didn't plan on staying for long but the rest of the girls insisted on a sleepover.

After they had their fun Temari had left but before she left she reminded Tenten to try to make a move on Neji.

"Oh yea I almost forgot." Ino said with a smirk.

"So how do you plan on making your first move on Neji?" "Maybe going into his room & seducing him." Ino said with a wide smirk.

Sakura started laughing "This will be fun."

Next thing you know Tenten was being dragged by a group of chuckling girls running the halls of the Hyuga. Even Hinata seemed to be enjoying this. They were going to the side branch families part of the compound.

They knocked on Neji's door & ran, leaving a confused Tenten in shorts & a loose pajama top outside of Neji's room.

Neji came outside & was surprised Tenten was there, especially in that attire.

"Did you want to go training at this hour, If so I wouldn't mind but is a little late don't you thi-."

"No!" Tenten said quickly "Today me & the girls were just hanging out & I guess we're ending the night with a stay at Hinata's house... which is also your house." Tenten began to ramble.

"And as you can see they kind of just knocked on your door & left me here." Tenten said rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. "Surprise I guess."

"Well I suppose it isn't such a bad surprise." Neji said.

"Neji your flirting attempts are lame." Ino said at the corner of the hall with the rest if the girls head peeking around.

"You guys were here the whole time?!?" Tenten yelled

"Not anymore bye." Ino shot back & ran back to the main house with the Pink & Blue haired girls.

"Well unless you plan on chasing them back to the main branch you're welcome into my room."

Tenten walked in, nothing new it was the same room she would be in almost every other day when she came to pick him up for afternoon training.

She sat herself on his bed while he was right besides her.

Neji was a little closer than usual, not that she minded.

"I'm sorry did I disturb you, If you want I can go back to the-."

"No!" She could feel Neji stiffened "Ahem, no you were not disrupting me at all."

"Oh okay." Tenten said

They stayed in silence for a while but really for the two it was nothing new, but Tenten noticed that there was some kind of tension in the air.

"So what did you do today?" Tenten said to break the silence

"Nothing much, the boys & I just went out to BBQ together."

"I bet it was Choji's idea." Tenten chuckled

"Yea, not surprising but we were all getting tired of going out for ramen ever outing." Neji said.

"What do you guys even talk about when you meet up?" Tenten asked, maybe this would give her the opportunity to see what kind of girl was ideal for Neji.

"Nothing much just Naruto's crazy stories, missions, games, & girls." Neji said regretting the last part knowing Tenten would ask a storm of questions. Neji then spoke before giving Tenten the opportunity to talk.

"What do you girls talk about?"

"Uhh, basically the same thing I guess Ino's crazy boy stories, missions, our teams, & boys. Oh and a lot if teasing, well at least on me & Hinata's end." Tenten said with a bit of annoyance.

Neji lightly chuckled, it was a rare sight but Tenten always enjoyed seeing it.

"So what kind of boys do you talk about?" Neji asked.

"Don't worry only cute ones come up in our conversations." Tenten laughed

"Wow so then I suppose you guys must talk about me a lot then." Neji smirked

Neji & his pride, it was unbeatable. Tenten thought to herself.

"Okay whatever pretty boy don't get all cocky." Tenten said, stopping herself from rolling her eyes.

"Hm, so you admit that I'm pretty." Neji said smirking at Tenten

"Is it not obvious Hyuga, or do you want 100 more of your fangirls to stalk you during our training sessions." Tenten said sarcastically.

"I mean I'm sure they are just afraid that their beloved Hyuga might be taken away by a pretty girl." Neji stated

"And what does that mean exactly?" Tenten questioned

"It means.." Neji stared deep into her eyes "That I think you're very beautiful Tenten."

Tenten just looked back at with shock. It wasn't like Neji to be so straightforward with his feelings, usually a "Hn." was enough for her but for Neji to be this talkative for this long was rare. Was she in some kind if genjutsu?

"And I don't know if you are unaware but you have some fans as well, but I usually deal with them."

"What are you getting at Hyuga?" Tenten asked regrettably

"I'm saying that I like you Tenten."

Neji Hyuga, the ice block of the leaf himself actually has feelings? And even more shocking they were for me? Tenten thought.

Tenten was not about to let her emotions overcome her, although it was too late to suppress her blush (she was sure she was a darker shade of red than Hinata has ever been) She got herself together & said.

"I like you too, Hyuga."

At this point their faces were mere inches apart & they was heavy tension in the air.

Neji being the gentleman that he is politely asked "May I..?"

Tenten nodded

Neji grabbed Tenten's waist & lended in.

Slowly she could feel Neji's breath near her face & immediately started blushing. Then his lips touched hers & were met by a tender kiss. Neji's lips were soft & gentle. They were going slow, not that Tenten didn't mind the only thing on her mind was Neji Hyuga & his soft lips.

After a gasp for air Neji didn't hesitate to lean in for another soft & tender kiss. This one was filled with passion & hunger. Tenten gasp which gave Neji the opportunity to slip in his tongue & have power over her mouth. It was a deep & compassionate kiss.

After their 'make out session' They looked at each other briefly & chuckled. Tenten could feel her cheeks getting red & surprisingly Neji's cheeks were lightly tinted as well.

"Well I guess it's getting a bit late, I think I'll head back to the main branch compound."

"You know, you could always stay in my room for the night." Neji said with a smirk

Tenten blushed & threw a pillow at him. "Hyuga don't get too ahead of yourself."

"Hn"

"I see the old Neji is back, tell him I had fun & I might want to do it again." Tenten said smiling lightly

"Will do, I'm sure next time will be enjoyable."

Tenten exited his room & went straight to Hinata's room. Needless to say the screams of teenage girls were heard from all around the compound.

I guess the day did end up being relaxing, Tenten thought with a smile.

#neji hyuga #neji #nejiten #neji x tenten #tenten #tenten x neji #anime #fanfiction #fanfic #nejitenmonth2020 #nejitenmonth #idk if this is bad but lol

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unseeliefaelass · 3 years

Text

Darksiders: Origins

Chapter 2: A little Faith

Ale's task turned out to be simple enough. Tending to the garden of pods as one would for any plant life. Llildan's machine made watering them, and giving other nutrients far faster. Ale still had to collect the water, nutrients, extra soil, and more of course. Luckily it didn't matter to her in the end. What did matter to her, was watching her Father get increasingly uncomfortable and angry around Lilith. Llildan would shut down any attempts on him, but was also trying his best to keep her away from Ale as well. Even going as far as to tell Ale not to appear too useful during her work. Llildan for his part made himself look inconvenient. Which was easy when he could program the technology to look extremely complicated, while in reality he knew his tech no matter how it seemed. Aside from the nuisance Lilith was proving to be, Ale had her own watchful eyes. Absalom would occasionally look over her shoulder in minor curiosity. A bit skeptical as to how all this gardening was meant to get what Lilith wanted. Aside from gardening however, Ale had to place the embryos in the pods herself. Once done she also had to watch and record their progress. From growth rate, to any abilities that may manifest. Course Absalom didn't seem to be around for those tasks. Ale would soon get her chance to prove herself however. One day she came across a pod suffering from a rot problem. Upon realizing it had gone as far as inside the pod with the now infant, she knew they had to be examined outside of it.

Absalom was nervous about it though, "Is this truly necessary?"

"We have little choice I'm afraid. I have to be sure the rot hasn't reached the little one. It's already on the inside of the pod. So it's already too close for comfort."

"Are you sure it's rot though? I've seen it before on a few dead demons in my Mother's home. They didn't look this way while rotting."

Ale tilted her head a small bit with a warm smile, "Yes I suppose rotting plantlife would look strange. Especially to one who's only seen it on people. Plants and people don't exactly rot the same way, if anything plants wither faster. Unless it's something truly massive, like a tree for instance. A dead tree can stand tall for several more years before its trunk rots enough to topple over. The pods are made up of massive leaves, thus they will rot in a similar fashion. Have you seen rotted leaves before?"

Absalom shrugged, "Cannot say I have, no."

Ale then picked a single small leaf from another pod. And after reassuring Absalom no harm would be done to the other pod at all over one leaf, held it up for him to see. Absalom watched almost eagerly as Ale demonstrated how leaves rotted using magic to achieve the effect at a faster rate.

Ale for her part ensured she explained each step, "Leaves you see, fall once Autumn arrives. As it is the plants' ways of preparing for Winter. They start off the same color of green as always, and they are green due to cells inside them that are colored green and thus green light passes through it for our eyes to pick up on."

"The leaf is simply green to you?" Absalom asked confused.

"Yes, it is. Why?"

"My eyes see many shades of green in that leaf. I don't know how to explain it, but I've always been able to see more colors than anyone else. Mother was the first to notice and pointed it out to me when she did."

Ale's eyes widened, "Really? Hmm, I think there's a term for it. I don't recall it, but if you inform my Father he could tell you more, no doubt. Shall I continue on? Green is but the first color of leaves in this cycle."

"Yes of course, pardon my interruption."

"No need to worry, I can appreciate a curious mind. Asking questions after all is how we learn isn't it?" Ale replied with another smile.

"A...fair point, a-actually."

Ale nodded before continuing the explanation, "Now watch closely for this next part. Once the leaf hits the ground, decomposition begins. As the cells in the leaf all die, the color changes, and that next color comes after green fades completely without the cells to give that color. Sometimes it becomes yellow, sometimes orange. That part depends on the plant itself, and the natural colors of their leaves."

"So yellow and orange are the natural colors of leaves? The cells in them just hide them?" Absalom inquires extremely confused.

"They do, so when the cells die, the true colors are free to show themselves. The next color is red; which I don't have much to say on, beyond that it is red, and the second to last color in the cycle."

Absalom squints a bit at this, "Well again, I see more shades of each color. What looks like it's a single color to you, looks covered in many different shades of it for me. If anything, it's like staring at many gemstones in a chest."

"Hmm, well you're pretty insightful for a warrior. Then again you'd think I'd know not to judge them. Given my Mother was one herself." Ale revealed.

"Really? What was she like?"

Ale raised her hand gently, "Unfortunately I was very young when she died. Thus my memories are few, especially of her battles. As I wasn't allowed on them at that age. Though again, my Father would know more. That subject pains him deeply however, it's why he's become what he is now. Wouldn't recommend asking him about her."

"Shame, I actually wouldn't mind hearing of her. Given how you turned out..uh no offense."

"None taken. Ready for the last color? Or shades I guess?"

"I am."

Ale then looked to the leaf a final time as it turned dark brown. The luster and bravado of the previous colors being replaced with a dryness Absalom definitely recognized as Ale spoke, "This is what a dead leaf looks like. With that the cycle completes itself, and the trees and other plants will regrow and replace their lost leaves come Spring."

Absalom couldn't help feeling mildly disturbed at the leaf disintegrating once she finished. Though he'd seen much worse in Lilith's home to be sure. Cautiously he asked Ale, "Is that what's happening to the pod as well?"

"Yes, hence why I must get the infant out." Ale informed him.

Absalom glanced at the pod, and indeed saw the same dull brown shades on it's side. He then looked inside, and saw much the same. Course what he didn't mention, was that he could see the heat coming off of it as well. Due to the side of the pod rotting away slowly. He could see it because his eyes also had infrared vision. But this part was more random, as he was the first of Lilith's 'children' after all. There was bound to be some kinks, like Absalom not having perfect control of what vision he viewed the world in yet. Realizing what was happening regardless, he hurried off to find Lilith and tell her what had to be done. Ale thusly waited patiently for them both to arrive, despite her ever growing concerns with each passing moment. Lilith wasn't entirely keen on the idea despite Absalom telling her what they needed to do.

She felt she knew best, and thus went to prove as much, "You have magic specific to nature do you not?"

"I do, but it's nothing that can reverse rot. I'll need to call in a friend for that. Regardless, this child must be taken outside the pod. For their own safety.", Ale insisted.

"What of your Father? Does he not have the technology to examine the infant whilst it stays inside?"

Ale only shook her head, "He cannot, the pod is highly resistant to x-rays. Even if one x-ray won't hurt anyone, the pod doesn't notice that. All it knows is harmful rays are directed at its charge, thus it will prevent the x-rays from looking through it. I cannot control whether they do this or not either."

Lilith growled a slight bit in her growing anger before finally telling Ale in a sudden, dangerous sounding calm, "Very well, if we TRULY must do this, then you may. But know this little rabbit..if anything goes wrong afterward, it will be on your head."

With that Lilith finally backed off, but asked Absalom to watch her closely. He did so keenly as Ale carefully allowed the pod to open up. Absalom felt a twinge of fear at seeing the grey skinned infant within. Ale however carefully lifted the infant from the pod, wrapping it within a swaddle for the time being. Ale then handed it off to Absalom to watch over as she used her communication crystal to call up that friend. The clear crystal glowed gently and pulsated before the glow steadied out. Once it did, Absalom heard another female voice.

"Hello Ale."

Ale smiled at the reply, "Hello Aspen, so have you been told by my clan...?"

"I was yes, and I do not like it one bit. I hope you know what you're doing Ale. That woman is FAR from trustworthy."

Ale glanced at Absalom nervously before telling Aspen, "I know your opinions but keep them in for now. I'm being watched right now. I just need your help with something. Even just teaching me a spell will do."

Both beings heard her sigh deeply before she inquired as gently as she could muster, "What is it then Ale?"

"One of the pods I'm tending to has a rot problem. I need your advice on how to fix it completely."

Aspen thought to herself for a moment before saying, "I can send you moonfruit seeds. These can reverse rot when grown over decayed or decaying plants. And given the nature of your task, it should be beneficial to each of the...'children'. I do this for your sake Ale, just please...be mindful around Lilith. I mean it."

"Of course Aspen, and thank you so much. I'll keep in touch if it helps ease you."

"It very well may, but don't do so in front of her. That would likely...prove regrettable to us both. Farewell my friend."

"Good day Aspen."

Ale recieved the seeds within minutes of the call's end. From there she planted each one and as Aspen promised they reversed the rot. Ale then took the time to examine the little infant. Both her and Absalom share a sigh of relief as the infant showed life. Giving Ale the peace of mind to return the infant back into the pod.

Absalom then left to inform Lilith of the resolution, and told Ale, "You have my thanks, but be more vigilant. This could've been worse."

"Believe me I know, but for now let's be glad he was safe in the end. And that they will all be safe from potential future rot."

"He?"

"Yes, he. I noticed the infant was male during my examination.", Ale explained simply.

Absalom nodded at this before going to Lilith. She was pleased to know things were still going fine, "Excellent. What of the infant?"

"As I said Mother, he is well. He is grey skinned now, but very much healthy from what Ale stated."

"Oh? Hmm...feel free to keep trying on it with her if you so wish. But I shall....reserve my faith in the child. The grey skin may mean something else. Only time will tell."

Absalom was slightly stung by Lilith's coldness, but brushed it off all the same. After all Lilith was like this most days with most things. Even he recieved this treatment from time to time. He was practically used to recieving it now. But for her to show this to a Firstborn as an infant was quite telling to him. Regardless, he held out a cautious faith for the infant's continued growth. Intent on letting him keep fighting to survive with Ale's help.

#Darksiders: Origins #Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Absalom #Lilith

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malkumtend · 4 years

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7 Nights (and what comes after) - A Breezepelt fic.

The first night, Breezepelt knew he was asleep, so he passed her off as a dream. He knew he was asleep because he hadn’t remembered walking into the moors at night. Certainly not far enough that he was this close to the Thunderclan border. Not close enough that their stench made him retch.

Despite his perception that he was asleep, he still felt how cold the night was. Underneath a gleaming moon, there was no air rustling his fur, but deep in his bones, it was freezing. Freezing enough to sting.

He turned and found her on the border. Emerald eyes burning into him. She looked as young as the last time he’d seen her, but there was something about her, something pale and wispy, that made her appear like something out of an ancient legend. When moonlight struck her pelt, tiny spirals of light flickered from each strand of fur, sprinkling the air with a glittering obscurity.

She never spoke. She just stared. Patient. Daring.

But she was just a dream. So Breezepelt glared back and turned away. He wouldn’t be threatened by fantasy. He left her waiting, so far until she was just two green orbs winking in the ebony mist. He didn’t feel his pulse rising, and his face contorting into a scowl. He just left her.

She knew he would come back.

...

The second night, she was still there. Still not speaking, still just sat there. Her tail lay flat in the freezing grass, but Breezepelt could have sworn it was beckoning him to come closer.

Breezepelt growled, teeth chattering and breath steaming. His fur now felt like it was buried in ice. He still didn’t know how he’d got there; he could now remember falling asleep beside Heathertail and their daughters.

How many cats dreamt the same thing twice?

He felt an anger he’d promised himself to suppress burning in his jaws. He wanted to sprint over and swipe away the vision with his ever-digging claws. He glared still at the figure, baring his teeth in a warning snarl.

She didn’t move a whisker. Her stare was now regrettably unnerving.

It made Breezepelt’s head hurt and his throat go dry.

He growled again with audible fury before he left her again.

This time he ran.

...

When he saw her again the next night, Breezepelt knew these weren’t ordinary dreams.

He gave in, standing a tree-length away from the dark figure.

“What is this?” He demanded, sucking in air through his teeth. Even though his fur still laid unmoved, he could feel the wind striking his entire body.

The green-eyed molly cocked her head to the side. Unlike the last time he had seen her, there was no blood gushing from her throat. “From how you reacted before, I assumed you’d decided it was a dream.” Her voice was smooth, but still carried the cockiness he remembered from their apprentice days.

It still made his claws unsheathe.

“It is a dream!” Breezepelt hissed. “But why are they of you? Why would I ever dream of you? Are you the one causing this?!” He took a small step towards her, his yellow eyes blazing.

She shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not.” There was a remarkable lack of anything in her tone. It was like they were nothing but strangers. “Why do you think I’m here?”

The Windclan tom narrowed his eyes. “To terrorise me?”

“That’s pretty presumptuous.” She seemed to pierce through him and into him simultaneously. “Why would I do that? Do you deserve to be terrorised?”

The chill that raked across Breezpelt’s spine was not because of the wind.

Breezepelt flashed his fangs at her viciously. “Are you trying to make me mad? Just because you’re a dream, it doesn’t mean I won’t tear you apart!” He arched his shoulder up as he got into a threatening stance, his fur spiked with violent intent.

She blinked slowly at him. In the crisp rays of moonlight, Breezepelt could just about make out the placid line of her mouth. “If I’m a dream, it doesn’t matter what you do to me.” She mused in a thin voice, “So why don’t you come over here?”

Breezepelt stiffened as the coldness began to enclose around him. His fur quivered as he could sense the night’s darkness crawling across him like a pitch-black tongue. He wondered if she could sense why he didn’t want to approach her.

“E-Exactly! I don’t need to because you’re just a stupid dream! A whole bunch of nothing!” He spat at her, mustering a familiar hostility he had abandoned for moons. But now, it rested back on his shoulder like a snake bracing to strike.

It was something she had seen him wear like a second coat of fur.

Her stare responded, glaring mockingly at him. Fearlessly waiting.

The tom’s expression twisted, he suddenly felt like he was being choked. It awoke something. He needed to get away.

“I don’t have to waste my time with you!” Breezepelt snarled, turning on his haunches and raking the grass as he left her again. “Don’t come back here! If I see you again, I’ll make you pay!” He hoped he wouldn’t need to keep that promise.

He didn’t see it, but he felt it. The molly moved. Her tail curling, amused.

“It’s good to see you’re the same as always.”

There was no venom in the way she said that, but it still made Breezepelt start running again. Now carrying an expression of pure horror.

…

He stormed up to her on the fourth night. Now she was within a tail’s distance and Breezepelt could see her clearly. Her black fur still sparkled under the stars, augmenting her presence in the stormy night.

If it wasn’t for the moon, Breezepelt was sure that he wouldn’t be able to make out the moors anymore.

But the increasing darkness wasn’t what was on Breezepelt’s mind.

“I’m not like back then!” He declared. His heart pounded and there was a strange hissing sound in his ears. She smiled. It was a fake smile, but she smiled, dripping with scorn.

“Could have fooled me.” In the flickering green of her eyes and the dry aura of her voice, there was life. Life beating from a force made up of stars and hope that Breezepelt had once refused to believe in. Life that was beyond death.

“It was moons ago!” Breezepelt pressed, still clinging onto his nerves with an escalating irritation. “I’ve proved myself to my Clan since then! Your own brother has stuck up for me and told the clans he wants to forget what happened!”

She twisted her head in a movement that flowed with the rolling of her eyes. “Yes, and my other brother wanted to let you die until our father convinced him otherwise.”

Our. That made Breezepelt feel so much more sick than it should have.

He was sure she knew that.

Breezepelt cringed, the picture of Crowfeather begging for his life was so strange it could have been seen as unnatural. He also felt the sting of debt. It had been Jayfeather who had gifted Windclan the life saving medicine. It had been Jayfeather who had saved Breezepelt’s life.

It had been Jayfeather that Breezepelt had almost killed. Wanted to kill.

“Can you see it? What you did?”

Breezepelt thrust his head up, rapidly breathing as he saw an air of smugness surround the celestial cat. Her fur began to slither in the breeze, stoic to the chill, but vindicated by his own self-slaughtering thoughts.

A creeping horror embedded itself into Breezepelt’s spine. How could she tell what he was… No. Of course she knew his thoughts, she was part of them after all. A shade of his own making. The tom took a step forward to show he wasn’t going to cower.

“I made up for that long ago! I was young and I made some terrible mistakes, that doesn’t mean-”

She started to laugh.

Her eyes still joined with his, a grin snapped across her muzzle, before blooming open as she laughed straight at him.

He’d heard her laughter before, once, but never like this. Then it had been mischief and arrogance. Now it was crude and mocking.

It rattled along the air, falling on Breezepelt like icicles. He could have sworn the horrible sound echoed over the hills but never travelled too far away. Her laughter was a storm, and Breezepelt was the eye.

“A mistake?” She threw her head back, one emerald eye glinting like a dog’s tooth. Her laughter morphed into something crooked, like she was spitting out death berries. “Is that what you tell yourself?” She sneered; disgust ripe on her tongue.

Breezepelt glared at her.

“You always were terrible at lying.”

“My clan has forgiven me.” Breezepelt said slowly.

She whipped her head to the side. “Good for you. I suppose that means it never happened, right?”

“Lionblaze said that he-”

“Lionblaze would be dead if you’d had your way.” Now, the revulsion was stark and terrible on her face. Inside those burning green orbs, Breezepelt saw nothing but hatred.

It wasn’t something unfamiliar to him. It was something he thought he had escaped.

It still made his blood turn cold. Even if it was from her instead of his own clan.

But was that entirely fair. It was the same look he’d given her corpse.

“Oh, so you pick now of all times to think of that?” She scoffed. The starlight shimmering strands of her fur moved as if the stars were mocking him with the parody of disgusted laughter.

Breezepelt stiffened. “W-What do you want?” He descended his voice into a growl as his stammer overwhelmed him with a humiliated indignation.

“To see that look on your face.”

Breezepelt turned his face away and fled once more. He was still panting for breath and his chest still ached from exhaustion and fear when Heathertail nudged him awake.

…

“What do you want me to say?”

He kept the same distance as the previous night. Tonight, she was remarkably still. “Nothing that you want to hear.”

His tail lashed and his yellow glare burned. “Just tell me!” He shouted, groaning as the echo throbbed around the darkness of the moors. He hissed a breath that immediately fogged in the air, so thick it may have blocked her image for a moment.

“How about why?” She said disdainfully.

“Why?”

“Did I stutter?”

Breezepelt’s snarl churned from the smoking anger in his stomach. That was what she wanted? She already knew why? Every cat in the forest knew what he had done! He’d had moons of distrusting glares and cautious whispers from his own clanmates to be reminded every wretched day of the mistakes he’d made.

Was that her goal? To make him grovel. To make him squirm. She was mouse-brained if she thought he was still weak enough to do that. He’d had a lifetime of living out of his own shadow; what was a few minutes more?

“Fine! I messed up! Is that what you want to hear?” He shouted, taking a step closer to those unblinking, judging eyes. “I was young and I felt that no one around me, not even my own parents, believed in me. Can you blame me for being happy for once that a group of cats believed I was strong? That I meant something!”

She blinked, and Breezepelt continued before she could open her mouth again.

“I trained in the Dark Forest to become strong, and they told me that I was. Obviously I was wrong to join them in the Great Battle but I didn’t think I had a choice! You, your siblings, Thunderclan, Windclan, my own father! After all that had happened between us, why would I ever believe any of you when you said that I was fighting for the wrong side? The Dark Forest said they trusted me, and Crowfeather-” Breezepelt grunted, trying to keep his claws sheathed. “Crowfeather was on your side instead of mine. Like he always was.” He hid the softness that suddenly overtook him with a low growl afterwards.

He hated thinking of those times for many reasons. The rejection he saw in his father, the way that the forest had trusted a trio of half-clan cats over a cat like him who had pushed himself every day to be the Warrior they would respect, the way that he had lost everything in that battle and continued to suffer for it for moons.

But most of all, he hated remembering how it was all for nothing.

Inhaling deeply, he calmed his tone. “I was wrong, okay?” He looked up to her eyes, hoping his form radiated composure rather than submission. “I’ve admitted that. I’ve been forgiven for it. Those times were another moon, can’t I be allowed to move past them if they’re something I regret?” He asked her bitterly.

He didn’t know what he expected from her. If he was honest he hoped she would be satisfied enough with his answer to leave him alone. He was growing sick of the chill and the darkness and spending his nights thinking about a cat he didn’t care to remember.

Her head cocked, and she frowned. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

Now, Breezepelt was furious. He’d told her about what he’d done, he’d been open with her, he’d admitted that it was wrong! “Then stop wasting my time and tell me what you want?” He screamed, the pounding in his head just made him angrier. He leapt forward until her emerald stare was glinting off his fangs. “Why what?”

Her tongue traced over her teeth and she took a dismissive moment to clean her paw. “Why should anyone forgive you?”

By Starclan, he hated that smug look in her eyes. He wet the inside of his drying mouth, it didn’t help much as the cold air somehow drained away any moistness, leaving him dry and bare. “I said I regretted what I did.”

“So what?”

“What do you mean, ‘so what’?” He demanded. “It’s not like I didn’t suffer to! I had to work for moons to regain my clan’s trust.”

“I wonder why.”

Breezepelt clenched his teeth. “No cat would even look at me! They wanted me dead!”

“I am dead.” She said bluntly.

“That’s not my fault!” Breezepelt yelled, his paw crashing down resentfully. She didn’t even blink. He also hated how much this cat looked like him. The same dark flat fur. The same strong legs. The same lean body. The same glare that could penetrate stone. They were a picture of the other and he hated that so much! He always had!

Temporarily, his neck fur trembled.

She felt it.

“Okay then.” She mused, her head turning to the side. “So, you regret it, right?”

“I just said that.”

Her gaze changed – darkened. “So that means you regret what happened to me?”

“What?!” Breezepelt drew back, actually offended. His paws felt heavier than normal. “I wasn’t the one who killed you! That was Hawkfrost!”

Her eyes closed and a low groan left her. A groan of utter disgust. “Still the same mouse-brain.” Scorn seemed to spark around her. “I’m not asking if you killed me or not, I’m aware of who it was, I’m asking if you regret that it happened.”

“But why should I regret something I didn’t do?” He had regrets. He regretted betraying his clan, he regretted disappointing his mother, he even regretted not listening to his mouse-brained father from time to time. But he wasn’t the one that opened her throat, he hadn’t stooped to that.

A momentarily wry look painted her features, one fang loomed judgingly over her lip. “Fine. I’ll spell it out for you then.” She groused, “Are you glad it happened?”

Breezepelt froze. A sudden pain came to his side.

A motionless moment passed. She spoke again.

“Or rather, are you still glad that it happened?”

Like a rapid blast of nightmares, the great battle carved its way back into his mind. Breezepelt’s blood chilled as her words cleared like the sun over the river. He was there again. Soaked in blood, but grinning. His claws buried into Lionblaze’s chest, one paw raised to land the killing blow he had dreamt about for so long.

Then, with an unrelenting clarity, he saw the horror twist on his half-brother’s face. Puzzled, he turned his head swiftly.

And there she was again. Underneath the glistening paws of Tigerstar’s son. Limp, lifeless. The crimson seeping from her throat to cover the dark grass.

Breezepelt felt it all again.

The shock electrifying his muscles.

The satisfaction and relief flowing through his blood.

He was back in his dream once more. And there she was. Life and mystery and knowledge tracing around her like an ever-expanding celestial orbit.

She was patiently waiting for his answer.

“Of course I’m not.” Why did he sound so quiet?

She hummed, knowing the truth. “What about Jayfeather?”

The blind cat, scratched, beaten, bloody. Under his mercy.

“Yes.” That was true. He did! “I regret it!”

“Poppyfrost?”

The pregnant cat whimpering and shivering by the moonpool, fearing for her life and the lives inside her as she watched a Warrior tear apart a medicine cat.

“I already said it!” He yowled at her, the anger was growing high and distorted. Turning into something else that made the Windclan tom convulse and tremble. “I regret it all!” How many times did he have to say it until it was true?

She looked up, examining the dark sky as if she could see a plethora of stars.

“I suppose that’s what you’re sticking too.” She sighed, her mind already made up. “But honestly, what does it matter?”

Breezepelt lunged forward, his nose was now a stroke from hers. He couldn’t stand this anymore! It wasn’t fair! He’d fought for his clan, day in and day out, to escape the kind of looks that she was torturing him with! “Why can’t you just get over it? I’m not the only cat that’s made some stupid choices in my life!” His mind sparked, “What about your ‘mother’? What about your real mother? They both made choices that ruined you as well as me! Why should they be forgiven over me? They did terrible things as well! Are they deserving of your ‘forgiveness’,” He spat the last word in a mocking imitation of her voice, “Over me? They paid for what they did as well as me! Why should I continue to suffer when cats like them are treated like they’re heroes now?”

He finished, fury, justification and pleasure leaking out of his breath. She was the guilty one, not him. She’d been the one to reveal their little secret after all. That was a funny way of showing how much she ‘forgave’ them. She had no cause to treat him like some kind of rogue!

He sneered, eagerly anticipating whatever retort she had planned.

She looked at him as if he were pathetic. “Because the mistakes they made, they did for the right reasons.”

Breezepelt’s sneer dropped. He became vaguely aware of the scent of carrion, faintly tainting the surrounding dark.

She shrugged; a small hint of her own regret twinkled in the emerald space of her eyes. “I didn’t see it myself for a long time, but it doesn’t change that it’s true.” She met his eyes again, undeterred and strong. “They did everything out of love and care, and maybe it wasn’t always right, but they never wanted to hurt anyone.”

With a translucent energy, she began to move. One foot forward. Breezepelt stepped back. “You on the other paw.” Her eyes dulled and now anger was beginning to flare.

Breezepelt was suddenly aware of his own fear.

“Everything you did, was to hurt, to cause pain, to ruin everyone you blamed and hated.” She left the Thunderclan border, entering Winclan territory. Breezepelt wasn’t about to bring this up. The more he backed away, the more she came forth.

“You made your choices because the only thing you ever cared about was yourself. And innocent cats, cats who you had never even met but were still more than you could ever be, were hurt because of it.”

She stopped. The deathly scent was growing in the air. Breezepelt’s entire body was stiff with terror he didn’t know he could bare. But for a split second, her look was almost pitying.

“And maybe I understand you. Because I blamed other cats for my problems for a long time as well.” She said softly, “I did some terrible things to, things I didn’t think I could make up for.” She let this linger for a long moment, long enough that Breezepelt had the nerve to relax.

She stripped that away with another piercing, star filled stare. “But I paid for it. Because I was wrong, and I fought to make up for it. Because my loyalty to my clan never left me.” Her head arched back, narrowing her stare at him. “Can you say the same?”

Breezepelt was silent. Not because he wanted to be, but because he had to be.

She dipped her gaze, hissing with enmity. “Well, maybe you can.” She looked up again, hard. Staring right at…

No.

She was staring at something behind him.

Breezepelt’s pupils shrank, and the scent of death and rot grabbed his senses with a pulsing familiarity. His stomach turned cold and dark as he remembered it. Absolute, petrifying panic tore into him like the sting of claws and talons.

As he turned, her voice, calm and casual, yet somehow condoling, rose up and disappeared.

“If your loyalty still lies with them.”

Breezepelt turned.

The moors of Windclan, of home, were not there.

A thick entangled mess of wood and shadows ripped up until they were severing the stars. A red mist dawned everywhere he looked, only penetrated by the army of dead trees and white, cold eyes that winked with dark invitation. The whispery voices lulled over him, begging or demanding him to come home.

The tom turned to run, but the border, she, was gone. He was in the middle of the red mist, the dead, forgotten earth sinking around him. The eyes closed in and the voices descended on him like falcons.

Breezepelt was still screaming when he woke up.

…

“I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am! I swear!”

“You’re scared, that’s all.”

“Of course, I’m scared! You can’t tell me that I belong there! I’ve done everything I can, I’ve never betrayed Windclan again! You have to believe me! I know what I did was terrible, but I promise you that I’m sorry for what I did!”

“They all say the same thing when they see that.”

“W-What are you talking about?”

“Whenever a cat like you learns that’s what’s on its way. They always start mewling about how sorry they are. But Starclan have a way of knowing if it’s the truth or not.”

“It is the truth! I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to!”

“You mouse-brain. It doesn’t matter what you say! You can say anything, but it’s what you do that’s going to matter!”

“What else can I do?! I’ll live by Windclan until the day I die, I’ll regret what I did every day, I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to the cats I hurt! I’ll do anything to prove it to you!”

“It’s not me you need to prove it to.”

“To prove it to Starclan then! I’m sorry! I swear on my life, I am so so sorry for what I did and I know that it doesn’t change anything about who I hurt or what I tried to do! But please! I’ll do anything you say I need to, just tell me what I need to do!"

“…”

“…please…”

“I think what you did was evil.”

“…”

“You regret it?”

“I do!”

“Then make up for it for the rest of your life.”

She turned away from him and disappeared back into the clouds of stars and light.

…

On the seventh night she was not there.

Breezepelt called, screamed, begged for Hollyleaf to return. He did it until he was awake again, his tears still wet on his fur.

He never dreamt of the border again. He was left on his own choices.

#breezepelt #crowfeather #hollyleaf #Warriors #Warrior Cats #Thunderclan #WindClan #fanfiction #warriors fic

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chestnut-b · 4 years

Text

Himawari Chapter 8

Beneath a masked smirk, the letter found a comfortable home in his breast pocket.

Note to self. Iruka is truly a man of extremes. A Hashira offers him a souvenir, and he asks for Orochimaru’s head or nothing at all.

Chapter 8 of a Demon Slayer AU

In the blink of an eye, summer had passed.

Iruka looked out into the vast forest as the winds of autumn blew past. The colours were already well in the midst of changing; green giving way to golds and reds. The lush soundscape of summer was no more, instead, the winds carried crisp, dry notes that only served to accent the chill that settled in his bones.

He sat now in what was a certain Hashira’s preferred napping spot, high above the school grounds. It had been a few months since the man had left, but now, in the teacher’s lap, a tired hound was napping, warm and content.

Iruka gazed at the slip of paper in his hand. He had to keep a good grip on it, lest a sudden gust of wind carried it off. Admittedly, he’d gone over its contents five times by now, but surely, he thought, one more time couldn’t hurt.

Iruka-sensei,

At the time of writing this, I’m still alive, isn’t that nice?

If you are too, then I’m glad it wasn’t a wasted trip for Bisuke.

You’ve spoiled him, and he’s pickier about his treats now, but I guess that’s fine.

Not much excitement where I am I’m afraid, and not much good tea either.

If you’d like a souvenir, you need only ask, though Guruko can’t carry very much. Please be reasonable, sensei.

It was signed off with a gracefully brushed henohenomoheji.

Iruka’s other hand rested in Bisuke’s fur. He stroked it absentmindedly, sighing.

“Bisuke, what do you think I should ask for?”

The hound in question merely whined, and nestled his head deeper under the sleeve of his haori. With a chuckle, Iruka carefully folded the paper back up, his fingers running over each fold and crease, before tucking it into his breast pocket. He let his palm linger on his chest.

It’d gotten just a bit warmer.

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

“Sakura? What’s the matter?”

The next morning, Iruka had seen Bisuke off, well fed and rested. He was in the middle of making his afternoon rounds when his ears picked up the sounds of soft crying. The school had been set up in an abandoned shrine compound, and he’d found her behind the aged offering box, below the large twisted ropes and bells.

“I-Iruka-sensei.” She lifted her head, her cheeks red and tear stained.

He crouched before her and placed a hand on her head.

“I’m here. What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “I miss my parents.” She cried.

Iruka looked at his surroundings.

That’s right...her parents were shrine keepers.

Iruka hadn’t met them, but he knew they’d sheltered many slayers over the years, more than a few who were only alive today thanks to their intervention. The Harunos had been talented herbalists, and he’d come across their books on numerous occasions in Sarutobi’s library.

“I’m scared, sensei. I know we’re supposed to fight, but when I think about demons, all I can think about is running away.” She admitted, clutching her knees closer.

Iruka’s chest tightened. The child had only been here for half a year.

“Sakura, it’s only natural to feel that way. We’re human.” With the edge of his sleeve, he started to dry her cheeks. “Until you’re able to take care of yourself, we’re all here to protect you.” He’d say it as many times as he needed to.

“But the selections-“

“If you don’t want to take them, you don’t have to.” That was really the only saving grace in all this, he thought somberly. “If you want to follow in your parents’ footsteps, there are other ways to do it, Sakura. You don’t have to fight.”

“R-Really?” The relief in her eyes was apparent.

Iruka smiled gently, nodding. Getting up slowly, he offered her his hand.

“We’re teaching you to fight so you can protect yourself. Even if you don’t join the corp, there will always be a place for you.” He explained. Taking her small hand in his, he helped her to her feet.

Truth be told, it was something he always wished he could say to Naruto, but even he wasn’t sure those words would hold up under the weight of his destiny. Sakura at least, he didn’t have to worry for. If the Senju wouldn’t take her in, Sarutobi would. He’d see to it himself if it came down to it.

Hand in hand, they started to walk back into the compound. The rest of the children were playing catch, and their laughter echoed through the pavilion. By now, picking out Naruto’s voice amidst the chaos was second nature to Iruka.

Feeling a little more at ease, Sakura tugged gently on his hand, prompting him to face her.

“But sensei, fighting with swords, it’s a little fun.” She smiled sheepishly.

Iruka laughed and winked at the girl.

“Isn’t it? Sakura, don’t lose out to the boys. If they get out of hand when I’m not around, you’ll have to knock some sense into them for me.”

The smile widened into a returning grin.

“Ok!”

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

Months he’d spent ranging and searching, only to reach another dead end.

I should be used to this by now. How many years has it been?

Kakashi stepped back to lean against a tree, his hands resting on the hilt of the blade propped before him. The moon, previously obscured by a sea of clouds before the battle, finally revealed itself, casting a soft light on the surrounding area.

It was a scene of pure carnage.

A small rural village had been wiped out by a single demon. The bodies left uneaten were strewn about, marred beyond recognition. The women and children had been taken first.

They were always taken first.

If he’d arrived just two days earlier, he could have saved these people.

Stop it, Kakashi. If you carry on like this, you’ll-

Shut up, Gai.

The Hashira sheathed his blade. He’d found a spot upwind, away from the stench of blood and decay. Taking a seat at the base of the tree, he brought his fingers to his lips, and soon a sharp whistle cut through the dead silence of the night. It wasn’t long before a crow descended, landing on his arm. With its usual beady stare, it waited for instructions.

“Call for the kakushi.”

The support members from the nearest outpost would need to deal with the aftermath. He couldn’t afford to be held up by the local authority. After all, the demon slayers didn’t have any kind of recognition from the governing powers.

The crow crooned softly before taking off into the sky. With a tired, hooded gaze, Kakashi watched as its dark silhouette melted into the night.

You aren’t too fond of them, are you?

An amused voice echoed in his head.

Exhausted, Kakashi didn’t resist the inviting pull of the recollection.

The teacher had watched him send off another report one late afternoon. He sat under the shade of the large tree that stood between their rooms. Unlike the cold glow of the moon, the light that fell was a warm gold, dappled. Bisuke had taken a liking to being curled up in Iruka’s lap, a habit he’d apparently picked up from Guruko, and the youth had been engrossed in a book that was decidedly not Icha-Icha.

It was true, he admitted. Kakashi wasn’t overly attached to his assigned crow messenger. That was why he had his hounds. Traveling on a plane of existence humans had no access to, they were only marginally slower than the birds. Impending tragedies, proclamations of death and loss. Any time a crow cried, it could be sending a slayer to his last battle.

No, unlike some of his comrades, he couldn’t find a reason to be fond of his messenger, exactly.

He walked up beside the teacher and leaned against the trunk of the tree.

“When was the last time a crow brought you good news then?” He’d challenged.

Iruka put down his book and closed his eyes with a considering look. His lips slowly turned into a smile, the kind that broadcasted thoughts of unabashed wickedness. Propping his chin with his hand, he looked up to Kakashi with a gleam in his eyes.

“Hmm. Obviously, when it told me you’d be coming here!”

Kakashi’s visible eye twitched incredulously.

Iruka tried to keep a straight face, but quickly ended up turning his head away, bringing a hand to his mouth in a sorry attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Oi, don’t laugh so hard at your own joke.” he’d sighed, exasperated.

It only served to have the opposite effect. Bisuke, awoken by the shaking, looked up, blinking at Kakashi blearily.

After a few more awkward moments, the laughter finally settled.

“But you know, in hindsight, it’s not a joke. I really do mean it” Iruka sighed with a soft expression.

Kakashi didn’t know what to say to that. He supposed he felt pleased by the admission, weirdly enough. He’d been sent to do a job, and while he’d dreaded it at first, being away from where he was most useful, he couldn’t say it was a complete waste of time. Iruka had proven to be a patient teacher in the art of fuda seals. It was also undeniably interesting to watch him at work; the paper coming to life with scriptures composed of inky, stylised crows.

Regrettably, the techniques used for the bounded field required a deep knowledge and understanding of the terrain, far beyond what he had time for. While he couldn’t hope to achieve the same level of expertise by a long shot, he’d been taught a few tricks, and he always appreciated the opportunity to pick Iruka’s brain.

“You don’t have a crow of your own?”

Iruka shook his head. “You know I don’t get sent out on missions. Even the sword I use now belonged to my father.”

Another curiosity.

“Well, I can only say you’re not missing much. They’re supposed to be for official use only.” He’d said ‘supposedly’, remembering at the back of his mind, the numerous occasions Gai sent his just to annoy him.

Loud and brash, just like its owner. It even had a bowl cut to match.

Iruka leaned his head back against the tree. A group of starlings had soared by after emerging from the surrounding forest, their cries echoing in the evening sky.

He looked up at them wistfully, an expression that reminded him painfully of Tenzou. He’d often done the same.

“You may be right about that. I’d probably just grow to become envious of it.” He chuckled.

Kakashi watched the last of the birds disappear.

“Envious of their freedom?”

“Hmm...You think they’re free just because they can fly, Kakashi-san?”

Ever the casual philosopher, he’d come to know Iruka’s fondness for throwing him questions like these.

Kakashi thought of his own situation. Unlike the other Hashira who watched over their own territories, after Tenzou’s death, he’d been granted leave to move as he pleased, to retire from his post, if he so wished to. He could go anywhere he wanted.

But no, he didn’t think of it as freedom in any sense of the word.

“I suppose even a bird needs a place to rest its wings.” He said after some consideration.

After a long pause, Iruka bowed his head, eyeing the sleeping hound in his lap. Then he whispered, with a voice that spoke of wishes, of places far beyond his reach.

“Maybe true freedom…means having a place to return to.”

“Maybe.”

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

The approaching human presence pulled him from his rest. The moon still hung in the sky. It hadn’t been long.

Dressed in the uniform blacks, face obscured by a headdress, a corp member stood at attention before him. He looked just a bit nervous.

“Kakushi, reporting for duty, Hashira-sama! Do you require any medical attention?”

Kakashi shook his head, and took to his feet.

“Carry on with your duties. They need to be given proper burials. I’m heading off. I don’t sense any other demons, but stay alert.”

“Understood! May you see victory on the battlefield, Hatake-dono.” He bowed. He passed a satchel of fresh supplies to Kakashi before joining the rest of his comrades.

A thoroughly unpleasant job, but someone has to do it.

An hour later he found himself enjoying the hospitality of an elderly pair of bamboo cutters who had spotted and hailed him from the road. Sitting around a small fire, they offered him a bowl of hearty stew and to his surprise, a small cup of sake. He’d refused at first, but the couple had insisted.

“A small token for those who risk their lives protecting us.” The lady said, pressing the cup into his hands. The man with her explained that they too, had once been saved by a slayer on the road.

The Hashira didn’t have the heart to tell them they’d very nearly avoided a death trap not too far away. He would stay with them tonight, at least.

After the couple had retired for the evening, Kakashi stationed himself in the trees above. He would have fallen asleep too, had he not sensed Bisuke’s presence nearby. It had been nearly a week since he’d been sent off to the Forest of Death.

The hound materialised before him, and after receiving a grateful scratch, turned around to allow Kakashi to retrieve his quarry.

The first, a letter in a familiar, careful script.

Kakashi-san,

It is good to hear that you are alive. I do hope it remains so.

My thanks for sending Bisuke, the children enjoy his company, but not nearly as much as I do. Working for you, he deserves every bit of spoiling he gets.

As for a souvenir, I would have requested for Orochimaru’s head, but you did ask me to be reasonable. Instead, should you find yourself visiting headquarters again, I would ask that you find time for a detour. A selfish request, I know, but it would be appreciated. Naruto was just a bit disappointed that he didn’t see you leave with his own two eyes.

Having heard of your unfortunate circumstances, I’ve sent a small consolation. Should it run out, you’re more than welcome to send one of the hounds. I hope it brings you some comfort in your time of need.

Lastly, while you’re out there, why not take the opportunity to pick up some better quality reading material? Jiraiya-sama sends his regards, but also asks me to tell you he’s disappointed that you didn’t listen to him. Whatever that means.

Stay safe, and may fortune go with you.

Iruka

It was only too easy to hear his voice narrating it.

He chuckled as he read it one more time.

Note to self. Iruka is truly a man of extremes. A Hashira offers him a souvenir, and he asks for Orochimaru’s head or nothing at all.

Beneath a masked smirk, the letter found a comfortable home in his breast pocket.

Accompanying it was a small pouch holding a small container. He didn’t have to look to figure out its contents, but he did so anyway. The earthy fragrance of tea; a precious portion of Iruka’s personal stash.

It brought to mind quiet afternoons in amicable company, the warmth of a hearth, and shared, amused laughter.

“Bisuke, don’t go gloating about this to the rest. They’re going to get jealous.”

The hound grinned before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Alone, Kakashi looked up at the moon.

It seemed to glow a little warmer now.

One more thing to add to my list of duties, he sighed.

He’d have to find something good enough to send back for the tea.

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

End of Chapter 8

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

Author’s notes:

Woo, can’t believe we’re already at Chapter 8! What started out as a joke drawing has exploded into a completely, unexpectedly long fic with over 14 illustrations planned so far. I’ve never written anything longer than 2k words the past 15 years or so, so this has been a real brain stretcher. Thank you all for your kudos and comments so far, I always enjoy reading them! (They certainly encourage me to keep this on a regular schedule!)

Sometimes I also forget that not everyone is familiar with Demon Slayer, but I hope it’s been easy enough to follow along! Even if you aren’t, I don’t think you’re missing too much since I’ve made changes to certain parts of it. : )

Terminology and Fun facts:

Kakushi - ‘Hidden’ brigade (sounds very similar to Kakashi huh). They do all the clean up work following a battle. Typically staffed by non-combatants.

Fuda (Seals) - Protective charms that were, in real life, distributed by Shinto and Buddhist priests. The inspiration for Iruka’s is directly taken from the Kumano Hongu Taisha Shinto shrine in Japan. Googling “crow ofuda” will give you a good idea of what it looks like.

Again, thank you for following along so far! I’m having a lot fun writing and drawing for this : ) (at least, before I crank the pain factor up to 11).

See you in the next chapter!

#kakairu #iruka #kakashi #umino iruka #iruka umino #iruka sensei

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bitchwhoreofastorm · 4 years

Text

“origin”

"Nerevar's parry! Advance! Delyn's backhand! Retreat! Meris' block! Step left! Olms' thrust! Step right!"

Seron's sonorous voice echoed over the regular beat of heavy boots against pavement and ragged breathing in hot training-hall air. A crowd of Dunmer noblechildren did not a disciplined batallion make; Seron, however, was a Hand of Almalexia, and by a combination of careful diplomacy and strict admonishments that the Lady Herself would've been proud of, he'd whipped them promptly into shape, and they kept rigorous time with his instructions, feet and swords striking in rhythm with his shouts.

"Felms' Strike, take the knee-- Well done!" Seron shouted breathlessly over the clatter of several nobles falling to the ground. Fully-armoured and imposing for his height, the Hand walked down the line of kneeling children, all of whom were panting from exertion, their heads bowed and their training-swords held before them as if they were kneeling before the Gods Themselves. "Llarol, your parries are too slow," he said as he walked. "Mylis, good backhand. Ernil? Careful with your steps, they're too broad-- remember the Homily about the careless Alit who lost a battle by stepping off a cliff? Thanethen, best in the class today, well done. Iliah-- Iliah, your form is excellent but you move too slowly. Perfect form only counts if you use it in time."

Iliah, the fourteen-year-old girl who knelt at the end of the line, bowed her head and said nothing in response. This was a sword-class for the children of nobility, prospective politicians who needed to learn how to defend themselves (a necessary part of Dunmer politics, where assassinations were a part of daily life), and Seron seemed content for his advice to be accepted begrudgingly. While her peers grumbled about their criticisms, Iliah stared at the floor and focused on regaining her breath, flexing her hands on the hilt of her training sword and swearing to move more quickly next time.

"Alright," Seron announced, "Osuhn molha! Stand up and pair off. Let's put your lessons to the test."

A sense of dread crept into Iliah's throat. This was, by far, her least favourite part of training. Instinctively she looked over to Mylis, the only other girl in their cohort, but no sooner had she looked up that a stupid, grinning face abutted itself into her vision.

"You again," Iliah uttered.

"Me again!" chirped the boy. "Fight with me?"

Iliah looked past him, to Mylis, but she'd already paired off with Thanethen, and Seron had been claimed by the anxious-looking Llarol. "Um."

"Of course you will," laughed Ernil-- for that was the name ascribed to this pest-- and, before Iliah could protest, he seized her spare hand dragged her to a clear section of the training-hall.

Resigned to her fate, Iliah followed after hand, her hand hanging limply in his sweaty one.

If Iliah hadn't known better, she might have thought that Ernil enjoyed being beaten up by her. He always insisted on sparring with her, and hung around her like an unpleasant odour throughout their sessions; he'd even taken to following her home, prattling on about boring things, and she would endure his company in polite silence, or condone to wander around the public gardens with him until she found either her sister or her father to save her from the menace. Unfortunately, her withdrawn nature had done nothing to convince him that they were not, in fact, friends-- he seemed to like that she hardly spoke, calling her a 'good listener' and joking that he spoke enough for the both of them-- there were some boys, Iliah had realized, who treated conversations as opportunities to deliver monologues about whatever they pleased. And to Iliah's horror, even the adults had begun to take notice of how much time they spent together; when Ernil, holding her hand, positioned her in their usual training-spot, Seron gave them both a nod of approval, and Iliah wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground.

At least she could avenge herself on him. She was by far the better swordsman, and Ernil had barely dropped into fighting stance before Iliah had him on the floor.

The 'sparring' went predictably poorly for Ernil. He got in a few good hits, but he was one of those sensitive noble-children who couldn't commit to the violence, and each time his sword struck her he balked, leaving ample opportunity for Iliah to dive in and send him flying. To his credit, at least, he offered no protest: he would always hop back on his feet and attack her, only for Iliah to knock him back again. When Seron came by to observe them, he even noticed that Iliah's speed had improved considerably; at Ernil's efforts, the Hand merely sighed.

By the time the lesson ended, some half-hour later, Iliah's arms were sore, and Ernil had acquired several new bruises to boast of.

Not that it seemed to teach him anything.

"You're so good at this," Ernil prattled on after the lesson, as they sat next to each on the floor, peeling off their armour. "Unlike me. I'm the worst! The swords just move so fast. And I'm so clumsy. I don't think I'm cut out to be a warrior. You're lucky that you're a girl, nobody will be disappointed in you if you aren't good at swords. It's not fair. We should change places, really. But I don't mind that a girl's better than me at sword-fighting. Hey, you could give me private lessons. What are you doing this afternoon?"

Iliah, halfway through unfastening her cuirass, desperately wracked her brains for anything happening this afternoon. "Nothing," she finally conceded. "I'm not doing anything."

"Wonderful!" said Ernil with a grin. "Want me to help you with your cuirass?"

"No--"

But he was already unfastening the back for her; Iliah cringed away from his touch, but punching him would have been rude, so she stared patiently at the floor.

"Wanna come to my house?" Ernil asked. "There you go, it's unfastened. We should hang out! You just said you're doing nothing this afternoon, so why not?"

"I, um."

"Don't be shy! I know you're a shy girl, but I want to hang out with you, I promise. I think you're so cool, Iliah."

Iliah dropped the cuirass next to her and moved away from him, keeping stubbornly silent, focused on removing her armour.

Unfortunately, Ernil took her silence as agreement. Once she'd removed her armor, she wasn't quick enough out the door, and he tagged along with her; they both lived in the manor district, so their paths home regrettably aligned.

"Let's take the long road back," Ernil said, the moment they’d left the Temple complex, "Through the gardens!" And Iliah, who at least loved the public gardens, simply shrugged and let him usher her off into the trees.

The weather that day was warm, a lovely late-spring afternoon, the air thick and heady with flower-scent. They walked by a canal, concealed from the sun by the dappled shade of the pink Moril-trees standing overhead, through beds of Timsa-Come-By bowing their heads in a light breeze. After the hot sweaty air and cold stone of the training-hall, the gardens felt soft, fragrant, and their myraid pinks and oranges cast the entire scene in a hazy pollen glow. Despite the irritating presence of the boy, Iliah found herself quite content; too tired to be annoyed, she relaxed as they walked, enjoying the lovely atmosphere of Mournhold. And Ernil let a comfortable silence fall between them, for once, so the walk was nearly pleasant.

"I love this place," Ernil finally broke the silence, looking up at the trees.

Iliah, walking close beside him, stared out at the opaque blue water of the canal. She could see Koi darting around the base of the violet lotuses that dotted the water. "Me too," she said fondly, watching one of the big orange fish nibble at a plant.

"Do you remember playing here, when we were little? When you and your sister used to climb up that tree there," Ernil pointed to a large, stooping tree, drawing her attention away from the water, "And you'd declare yourselves the Queen of Mournhold, and make everyone do your bidding. You made me bring you sweetrolls! Do you remember?"

Iliah followed his pointing finger. "Yeah, I remember," she smiled, self-conscious. "I still like sweetrolls."

"I always wanted to be your friend, back then, but you were so shy. But I thought you were so cool, even then. You were smart and mysterious and dignified, like a real princess... and so pretty."

His hand brushed Iliah's. Iliah jerked it back to her chest.

"You're thinking of Karnalta," she said flatly. “In that game, Kar was always the Queen--”

"I'm not," Ernil said, looking at her, and something in his expression made Iliah stop in her tracks.

"But--"

"You're beautiful," Ernil said, also stopping. "Do you know that, Iliah?"

Iliah looked away. Suddenly her face was burning; she wished, more than anything, she'd brought her training sword on ths walk.

She felt Ernil grab her hands, and this time she didn't pull away. "Iliah Ra'athim,” declared Ernil, “I-- I like you a lot." His hands were still clammy. "I know you're shy, so I don't mind if we take it slow. I think it's cute. It gives you a certain... charm. But I like you a lot, and I think you're so... cool, and beautiful, and quiet, and interesting. I've known you my whole life, I don't remember a time I didn't know you, and I've always admired you so much."

"Ah, I'm not--" Iliah's gaze was fixed firmly on a nearby Timsa-Come-By; her hands were itching. "I think-- you're thinking of Kar, not me. I'm not..."

"No! I like you. She gets too much attention, but you're the one I really care about. You're the interesting one, the one who's good at swords, the beautiful one, the dignified respectable quiet shy devout one. You're wonderful. And I, I must ask you--"

The Timsa-Come-By beds were very interesting right now. Iliah, still with her hands imprisoned in their moist tomb, watched a dragonfly land on one. From the corner of her eye, Iliah saw-- in slow-motion, as if a disaster were taking place-- Ernil drop to his knees.

"Iliah Ra'athim," echoed that thin, reedy voice from a million miles away, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

The dragonfly lifted off and darted back to the canal.

A drop of sweat slid down Iliah's wrist.

"Um," said Iliah.

Ernil was still on his knees, holding both of her hands. He wasn't moving.

It had been several seconds.

When Iliah peeked down at him, he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Well?" Ernil pressed, voice shaking.

"I, um," Iliah stammered. "I... need to ask Kar."

"You need to ask your sister if you can date me?"

"Ah. Yes?"

"But that's foolish!" Ernil cried, jumping up, his hands still clamped around hers. "You deserve to be free! Why should she control you? I'll stand up to her for you. She's a bully, I always knew that, but I won't let her terrorize you any longer!"

"It's not--" Iliah shook her head. "I meant, I-- I need to ask my father?"

"I already asked him!" Ernil said anxiously.

"You what?"

"He said we'd make a great match. I'm nobility too, you know! He says I'm a fine young man and I'll be a good influence on you and--"

Iliah, aghast, wrenched her hands away from him. "But I--" she cast about for excuses. "I'm only fourteen!"

"So am I!"

"I can't use magic?"

"I don't care!"

"I snore? I-- you don't actually want to-- me? I don't like going out late! I’m boring! I hate holding hands. I'd be an awful girlfriend!"

"I don't care about any of that," Ernil said, pleading. "We've known each other all our lives, I know who you are. That's who I like! You!"

On the verge of panic, Iliah looked around. Why hadn't she brought that sword?

"Why don't you want to date me?" Ernil asked miserably. "I'm noble, I'm a nice person, I'm rich. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," Iliah choked out. "You're-- you're very nice."

"Am I ugly?"

"I don't think so?"

"Is there another boy? Is it Thanethen?"

"No!"

"Then why?" Ernil rushed forwards, grabbing Iliah by the shoulders-- he was really standing far too close, close enough that Iliah could definitively see that he’d shed a tear or two. "Why won't you--"

And at that moment, in a stroke of what she would later consider to be a message from divinity, Iliah heard Hand Seron's voice echo in her mind: Nerevar's Parry.

Emil landed in the canal with a resounding splash.

Iliah stood on the shore, still in post-suplex stance, having not even realized she'd hauled the boy over her shoulder until it was too late.

As Ernil waded towards the shore, shouting at her, Iliah finally decided to put manners aside: she took off at a run. Seron had been right, she thought vaguely-- good technique was most potent when combined with speed.

"You threw him into the canal." Idrenie said, disbelieving.

"What else was I supposed to do?"

The two women sat near a hearth, in their corner of the barracks; Idrenie, holding a goblet of greef, rested with her back pressed to Iliah's chest and her eyes closed contentedly, listening with rapt attention as Iliah told the story. The ending, however, had roused her, and she laughed, pressing her head back into Iliah's breast. "Only you, my dear, would think that suplexing a man is an appropriate rejection!"

"Again," replied Iliah, with feigned irritation, "What else was I meant to do? He was so annoying!"

"You could have just said no. Most women reject men with words, not suplexes. Could've said you were a big mean Telmoran and wanted no part in his nasty boyish charms. "

"Well, I didn't know that yet, did I?" Iliah sighed, burying her hands in Idrenie's loose hair. "Honestly, I felt too guilty. Because he was... nice, and we were friends. It would've made sense to date him, but the idea made me want to puke, even if I didn't know why."

"And that's how you realized it."

"Yes. Before that, I thought I could be with a man, if such an occasion ever came. But Ernil made me doubt it. I thought that if I would be with a boy, it should be one like him, but..."

"But you didn't like boys." Idrenie laughed again. Her laughter turned to a happy croon as Iliah massaged her scalp.

"I don't like boys," Iliah agreed softly.

"What about that Mylis girl?"

"Ah, she-- I could hardly speak in her presence. She was the kindest, prettiest, funniest, sweetest person. Once, during training, she actually asked to spar with me. Asked to spar with me! I felt so lucky. And she said I was talented afterwards. I was so-- Idrenie, why are you laughing at me."

For Idrenie had tilted her head back, and was grinning sleepily up at Iliah. "Nothing," she drawled. "I just remembered the first time we sparred."

"Oh, gods, don't--"

"When I said, 'beautiful backhand'."

"Idrie."

"And you replied, 'You're beautiful too.'"

Iliah groaned and leaned forwards, pressing her nose against Idrenie's forehead. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?"

"Of course not," Idrenie replied, tilting her face back to kiss her. "Just don't throw me into a canal over it, okay?"

#iliah #for a discord servers pride month thing #fic

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randomnameless · 3 years

Text

To that anon about sub and dub :

I’m sorry I accidently deleted your ask (:’( )

Short story long story, I prefer sub because FR dub isn’t up to par, i can only remember RD and cry (and in a way, for people who don’t use english as their maternal language, US!Dub is also some kind of sub?)

Also I feel like sub - which is a translation - allows you to understand the meaning by reading, but having a better understanding or feel about the characters hearing them. Like I know shonen protagonist with a gratting/childish voice is annoying, but when he suddenly becomes serious you know something big is going to happen or happened. Protag stopped being the carefree doofus. But if the dubbed version gives the protag a more serious voice since the beginning, you won’t be able to make him “more serious” to show shit hit the fan. Or it would have less impact.

I wanted to illustrate with FE16 since the datamine is now fully voiced but, hey, I noticed the script, even for small things like support or battle quotes, has been altered in the localisation so of course the dub feels different, they’re not talking about the same thing !

Like, lizard wise :

When Flayn disappears, localised!Rhea’s goes :

I think of your...sister as family as well. You know that.

Leigh!Rhea marks a very very small pause between “your” “sister” and “as”.

JP!Rhea?

あなたの大切な……妹は、私にとってもかけがえのない家族のようなもの……

which gives, with google translate some sort of : “your precious sister... is like an irreplaceable family to me too...”

Inoue!Rhea marks a defined pause between “precious” and “sister”.

From JP!Rhea, I get that she casts more shade on the “sister” bullshit but she’s also more emotional and calls Flayn irreplaceable. She shares his grief. Localised!Rhea added a “you know that” which wasn’t in the og script and I don’t feel like it’s supposed to add or translate something ? (but then i only use GT as my translator so...).

When Seteth tells Cyril he’s totally not like Rhea’s family nope not at all :

Localised!Seteth goes :

But she and I are actually very old friends. In fact, we think of one another almost like family.

Whitten!Seteth doesn’t pause (save at the end of the sentence) at all and delivers in a straight... line.

Jp!Seteth script goes :

だが本来、レアと私は同志…… いや、家族のような間柄なのだよ

GT : But at the origin, Rhea and I are comrades ...... No, we're like family

There’s that gap marked with the “....” which isn’t present in the localised script.

Koyasu!Seteth adds another pause after the “no” (comma?) when Whitten!Seteth, who also has the comma, gets a much shorter pause.

I feel like Jp!Seteth delivered the usual bullshit he had to learn when someone would ask him why he is so close to Rhea, but then, he reconsidered while still being careful, marked by his pauses.

He trusts Cyril with this info (not with the full beans though, they’re still “like” family). Interesting enough, maybe it’s only because this convo happens in their B support, but Seteth pulls the “comrades” card with Catherine, without revealing, like he does to Cyril, that they’re closer than that.

Localised!Seteth feels like he adds a precision to what he said earlier when Jp!Seteth’s like checking right and left and up and down to see if anyone isn’t spying on them to reveal what was obvious since the beginning.

Also useless tidbit, but the localised script went with “ I am, of course, Rhea's servant. So, in a more formal context, I must maintain a deferential distance “ to translate the jp “ かつての私は、レアに仕える者として立場を弁えた言動を取る必要があった” which, google translated, means “ In the past, I had to speak and act as a servant of Rhea” - suggesting that there used to be a period where he didn’t have to act or speak as a servant of his younger sister!

It blows me away that this important (one day i will stop kidding myself) tidbit was erased!

Anyways, it’s not a case of difference between voice actors here because I can’t reproach to Whitten!Seteth to feel different from Koyasu!Seteth since they don’t even have the same script to begin with...

OTOH, Rhea remembering Willy in CF is more or less the same thing (per google translate, as always) in the localised or the og version :

Localised!Rhea goes :

He saved me. Supported me. Gave his all to the cause of defeating Nemesis.

That I should find myself here at Tailtean, striking down his scion...

Even if it’s not marked with “...” like the above lines about Flayn, Leigh!Rhea makes a pause between “Supported me” and “Gave his all”.

Jp!Rhea goes :

私を助け、支えてくれました。ネメシスの討滅に尽力してくれたのですよ。

その裔を、このタルティーンの野で我が手にかけるとは……。

Translated with the bestest tool ever goes :

Helped and supported me. He was instrumental in eradicating Nemesis.

To get that seed in my hands in this Tarteen field ...

I’m sure a more accurate translation would be “scion” and not “seed” rhea isn’t recalling her kinky days during this battle

So it’s roughly the same stuff, there’s no hidden intel like Seteth’s backstory with Rhea or something. However, Inoue!Rhea marks a longer pause between “supported me” and “he was instrumental”. Inoue!Rhea catches her breath during that pause, something Leigh!Rhea doesn’t.

When Leigh!Rhea delivers her “ That I should find myself here at Tailtean, striking down his scion” in a monotone voice (still a small pause after tailtean with the comma), Inoue!Rhea catches her breath again between uh, what was translated as “that seed” (again thanks to the comma), after the “tailtean plains” (no comma here!) and the rest ; at the end of the sentence her tone breaks.

IMO, with Leigh!Rhea’s performance you get that she remembers Wilhelm as Edel’s ancestor who helped her, but now she has to end Wilhelm’s descendant. It’s a sad twist of irony but I supposed she’d be “it’s regrettable, but oh well.” Leigh!Rhea’s sad but will live over this.

Inoue!Rhea remembers more fondly Wilhelm (longer pause?) and catches her breath several times, maybe to focus but it fails because her voice cracks at the end - Inoue!Rhea isn’t only sad or inconvenienced, she’s legit upset and shaken (maybe she’d apologise to wilhelm’s memory or the golem after the fight?).

I know the general meaning is the same “Rhea faces Edel and is saddened by having to kill her first friend’s descendant” but the tone is different. Even if the Google Translate Sub gave me random handjobs, comparing Inoue!Rhea’s tone to the dubbed Leigh!Rhea’s tone was worth it.

As one of my old uni teachers said, if you want to write about something, check the primary source. If you can’t, learn the language. And if you can’t learn, don’t write.

Google translate is a far cry, i know, from a professional translation, but I’m not writing an academic paper and I still have enough material to look at the secondary sources and spot the differences in interpretations.

#anon #replies #dub vs sub #FE16 #maybe it's only me but #why should i listen to the dub when it's not dubbed in FR? Like hopefully i can understand english else i wouldn't be there #but if you have to read translated subtitles anyways why does it matter if the audio is in jp or english?#but then it'd still be a sub-title version for french people who cannot understand english #french dub is hilariously bad historically like they censored a lot of stuff and City Hunter became a meme #like Hokuto no Ken #Then we had the 4kids era #i'm not here to crap on voice actors nope at all everyone has a different take on a character and that's why it's interesting to fandom #if everyone agreed on everything it'd be boring #but when the script itself is edited it's like wow this isn't the same game #so you're not having a take on that character because that's not the same character #hopefully FE16 didn't have that #Lolcalised!Effie though...#I haven't found bloopers like lolcalised!Effie in FE16 yet #tbh i hope i'll never do #Seteth's like 'I haven't always been her servant you know'#'one day I told her her drawing sucked without deference'#'then she cried and I felt like the worst brother ever so I had to carry her on my back for the 3 next years as an apology'

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