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chaseatinydream · 3 years

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pirate king (86) || atz

Hongjoong has always known that he would have to face his father again.

It was inevitable the second Hongjoong had chosen to become the man he was - a pirate, and one known as the Pirate King of the Caribbean, at that. Hongjoong hadn’t chosen the life of a pirate on his own, it had simply been a means to survival when there was no path left for him to take, but he had to admit he had embraced it partially to spit on his father’s ideals as the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy.

And now, he’s meeting his father eye to eye once again, both on different sides of the beach - both on different sides to this battle.

But while he has Wooyoung and Yeosang flanking both his sides, the hot summer air of the tropics taking on a sudden chill, his father approaches the no man’s land in a tiny boat - completely alone.

“Yeosang, do you notice something strange?” Wooyoung whispers out of the corner of his mouth, and Hongjoong can tell from just tense he is from the way his jaw is clenched. Hongjoong can’t see that well with one eye, but he trusts Wooyoung’s instincts and sight as the head gunner.

Next to him, Yeosang nods, a barely perceivable tilt of the head. “Something’s off, but I can’t tell what it is...” The navigator mumbles under his breath, chewing on his bottom lip. Hongjoong swallows, feeling unease stir in the pit of his belly. Just what is happening?

“They haven’t noticed the Treasure, have they?” Hongjoong murmurs softly as his father’s lone boat approaches the island - it��s barely small enough to fit a single man, yet it captures his attention more easily the massive armada at his father’s back. Yeosang nods again, eyes still fixed intently on the rowboat approaching shore.

“They’ll be able to move into cannon range faster than the armada can react, and we’ll cut a straight path in front of their bows to weaken the ships closest to us.” His navigator speaks quickly, but Hongjoong can hear the way his voice is trembling. Yeosang has never been one to enjoy being in the thick of fighting like Yunho and Jongho are, has never learnt to lift a blade larger than a simple knife for self defense. “There are two ships at the side with their artillery directed to us, but it’s the best chance we have. Once we give the smoke signal, San and Chin Hae should come running... if everything goes well.”

Wooyoung lets out a loud breath, blowing at his bangs to get them out of his eyes before he gives his captain an easy smile. “Nothing ever goes well with you, captain, does it?” He says, trying to lighten the mood, and Hongjoong shakes his head slightly, a small smile curling at the side of his mouth.

“We’re still alive for you to complain, so I don’t see what the problem is.” Hongjoong retorts calmly. Yeosang shakes his head in disappointment as Wooyoung snickers, before turning his attention back to the approaching boat.

The boat draws ever closer, close enough for him to make out the features on the man’s face. He’s completely alone, without a single bodyguard with him, something that Yeosang doesn’t understand. Even when his own father had come on board the Treasure for a negotiation, he had brought with him several men to protect him. But for the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy to approach them alone?

The man before them can’t be over-confident, or a simple fool if he has made his way up the ranks of the Royal Navy. He remembers the snippets of conversation he had heard his father make with the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy before, too young to understand with one ear pressed to a hardwood door, but enough to know that the man inside was one respected and feared. The Chief Commander commanded the room with a single word, and Yeosang had wondered just how capable he was to reach the position.

Yet here he is now, approaching the beach in a solitary rowboat, his presence so large that Yeosang already feels the weight of his gaze.

Just how confident is he?

A cold feeling settles on Yeosang’s shoulders as he continues to stare, watching the rowboat come closer to shore. He knows something is wrong, but what-

The gasp falls from his throat, completely unbidden and he rubs at his eyes frantically to confirm that he’s not hallucinating. No, he isn’t, and Yeosang isn’t sure which one is more terrifying to him.

“Captain...” He tugs at Hongjoong’s sleeve, and it’s only when he misses the red fur a few times does he realise his fingers are shaking. “Your father... isn’t supposed to be a witch or something, is he?”

“What? Only in personality, but not in reality...” Hongjoong begins to say, but then Wooyoung curses aloud, shifting forward to look more clearly at the man approaching the island.

“He’s not rowing.”

Hongjoong doesn’t fully process this until it hits him that his father is alone, in a rowboat, and is fast nearing them. He knows what it’s like to be able to do such a thing, sees the way the waves slide around the underside of the boat to propel it closer to shore. There’s no denying it - his father, too, must have the power of the seas.

And that scares him.

Still Hongjoong swallows, straightens his back and takes a step forward, feeling the weight of the musket strapped under his coat and the blade hidden in the sleeves. He raises his head to meet his father’s gaze, and he swears he sees a smile identical to his pulling at the corner of his father’s mouth.

He hates it.

The boat makes it landing far too fast, the waves pushing the small vessel onto shore. His father steps off board, each action as graceful and elegant as flowing water, befitting a man befitting his station, boots crunching in the sand. Hongjoong instinctively moves to take a step back, thickness forming in his throat before he forces himself to stay still even as a drop of cold sweat trickles down his back.

Remember who you’re doing this for, he reminds himself, nails digging into the skin of his palm. The pain grounds him, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. The crew is all counting on him, their captain, to steer them safely through this storm. And you... you...

Your smile weaves its way into his mind, entwining with his memories. He has to be brave. You’re still waiting for him.

“Snap out of it, captain.” Wooyoung kicks him not so subtly in the knee, and Hongjoong turns his head to give his head gunner a flat look. The man gives him a beatific grin in response. “Don’t think so hard and just focus on capturing that little bastard snake. I’ll protect you with my life, so there’s no need to worry.”

Hongjoong snorts, but part of him does feel marginally better at Wooyoung’s words. “And here I was thinking that I wish it was Yunho here with me instead. Don’t be so hasty to die too, won’t you?” He looks at the purple haired man, a small grin on his face. “You have something to ask Chin Hae too, don’t you?”

Wooyoung levels a suspicious glance at his captain. “... have you been eavesdropping?”

“Will the two of you stop making me feel like a third wheel?” Yeosang grumbles under his breath, and Hongjoong laughs together with Wooyoung at the put out look on their navigator’s face. “Pay attention to the enemy in front of us.”

Hongjoong takes a deep breath, heart lighter. “Sorry, I got distracted. Let’s do it.”

It’s been years since he’s seen his father’s face, and he hasn’t changed one bit since the last time Hongjoong has seen him.

He still has the same, sharp, fine features that women used to throw themselves at when Hongjoong was still a child, dark hair cropped short and parted in the middle to show his eyes. The only difference is that while one of his eyes are green just like Hongjoong last remembers them, the other is a strange, shifting colour that reminds him or a whirlpool at sea and sends shivers up Hongjoong’s spine.

It’s as if there’s something else lurking in his father’s body that’s not quite human.

His father steps up to the line drawn in the sand, both hands clasped behind his back and a serene smile on his handsome face. At a simple glance, he doesn’t appear to be carrying any weapons on him, dressed in nothing but a smart black coat with the Royal Navy’s insignia decorating the space over his heart. Hongjoong clenches his jaw ever so slightly at the red rose blooming there, but doesn’t say a word, meeting his father’s eyes evenly. The scar along his eye burns at the sight of him.

Don’t speak first, don’t show any weakness, don’t-

“You must have suffered a lot, Hongjoong.”

For the first time in almost a decade, Hongjoong hears his father speak again. It’s the same, steady voice that calmed him when he was trapped in the storms with his father in a tiny sailboat, the one that his ears could pick up even as the winds howled and the thunder crashed through the sky. His father never raised his voice, not once, and at the sound of his words Hongjoong feels like a child who just wants to hold his father’s hand again.

And he hates it.

“That’s not what we came here to talk about.” Wooyoung says loudly, and Hongjoong mentally breathes a word of thanks to his head gunner as he takes the momentary distraction to get himself back under control.

“He’s right,” Hongjoong speaks, and is relieved when his voice comes out firm and steady. Yeosang nods from next to him, eyes evenly trained on the man opposite them. “We’re here to negotiate for our crew’s freedom. ”

“Your crew’s safety is already guaranteed.” The man before him says so warmly that Hongjoong wants to hurl. It’s the exact same gentle smile his father had worn as he abandoned Hongjoong to bleed out on that island. “I mean no harm towards you, or your crew.”

“That doesn’t explain the whole armada behind you.” Wooyoung snaps, seething. The commander simply laughs, shaking his head kindly. “I assure you that they were never here to open fire on your ship. I only brought them to flush you out of Tortuga, otherwise you would never have agreed to a conversation with me. It is my hope that we will be able to resolve this without you having to pull the trigger, good sir.”

Wooyoung and Yeosang both flinch, the former reaching back subconsciously to touch the firearm behind his back before he catches himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hongjoong’s father merely shrugs, an easy tilt of the head that shows neither fear nor wariness. The smooth, refined way he speaks almost makes Yeosang’s head feel light, the right amount of politeness softened with the perfect touch of compassion and gentleness that makes him want to believe everything coming out of this man’s mouth, a textbook example of a perfect diplomat. Refusing him would make Yeosang feel awful, and-

“Yeo, snap out of it.” Wooyoung whispers harshly out of the corner of his mouth, and Yeosang startles out of it, surprised. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but don’t listen to it. Remember, he’s our enemy.”

“It’s a pity that you think of me that way, although that is completely understandable.” Hongjoong’s father nods with a resigned smile, and Yeosang almost finds himself rushing to reassure the man before he catches himself, throwing both hands over his mouth. Is this what hearing the voice of a siren is like, he wonders to himself, fear creeping up the back of his throat. “My purpose here is simple.”

“You want Chin Hae, and we’re not giving her to you. So find something else you want, because I’m not giving up one of my crew to someone like you.” Hongjoong says coldly, and his father simply raises an eyebrow in response. His eyes are as perceptive as those of an osprey, and he lets out a pained sigh, shaking his head in what seems to be both disappointment and worry. “So, it is true that you’ve fallen in love with it. Hongjoong, what you call Chin Hae is something that you haven’t fully even begun to understand.”

“What?” Hongjoong spits out, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. Is his father really saying he understands you more than he does? “What are you talking about?”

“You have a starstruck look in your eyes. I say this because I’m worried as your father, Hongjoong.” His father says calmly, and Hongjoong flinches, one hand gripping his eyepatch before he lets it fall back to the side. There’s a pressure building in his chest, a furious, boiling anger than feels like it’s about to explode any moment. How dare his father come after him, after everything he’s ever done, interfering with the life that he’s built and acting like he knows him?

“That doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He practically spits, voice rising in volume as he tries to keep his emotions under control. “If you did give a bit of care about your only son, you wouldn’t have shot him and left him alone to die on an island!”

“Captain, calm down.” Yeosang grips his wrist tightly, and it’s then that Hongjoong realises that he’s trembling, hands fisted so tight that he can’t feel his fingers. “Don’t let him get to you.”

But his impassioned words seem to have struck some sort of chord in his father, because the serene smile fades from his face. His father meets his eyes calmly, voice firm.

“Blood had to be spilled for the ritual.” The man says, and Hongjoong baulks at the word ritual. The closest he’s come to anything mystical in the world has been San’s unique abilities as a healer, the thing that had come to possess Chin Hae last night, and of course... the blessing of the sea goddess. “Don’t you realise, Hongjoong? The sand that you’re standing upon right now, it’s the very same place I left you behind.”

A chill runs up Hongjoong’s back, and he whips around in a circle to confirm it. When he had been left here years ago as a child, he’d been on the verge of deathfrom bleeding out, crying out of his one remaining eye and trying understand the agonizing pain that the betrayal of his only family had left in his heart. Now that he takes a second look, he sees a terrifyingly familiar palm tree that was stained red in his memory, remembers how golden sand was soaked crimson in his blood. He remembers the way the waves had risen and fallen, and the way she had emerged from the sea to stand on dry land-

“Why would you do something as sick as that?” Wooyoung hisses, and it’s then that Hongjoong sees the shotgun already locked and loaded in his gunner’s hands. Hongjoong doesn’t blame him, just being in his father’s presence makes his hairs stand on the end, his fight or flight reflexes kicking in desperately. “What ritual? You mean you’re one of those disgusting bastards who believe in sacrificing their children or whatever?”

Hongjoong feels sick to the pit of his stomach. He just wants to leave, to escape before he hears anything more. But his father opens his mouth to speak, and Hongjoong can’t bring himself move.

“A ritual to summon the gods themselves.”

Hongjoong freezes. “Gods?” The words come out strangled, choked in his throat. The sea goddess who had risen from the sea to save him and gave him her blessing... that was his father’s doing?

“This very place was where I met the sea goddess, years before you were even born.” His father says, and coldness creeps over his body, liquid ice burning cold in every vein as his father’s words ring in his ears. “I was on the verge of death myself after a massive sea storm, and when I came to I was alone... and my crew... lost to the waves.”

Hongjoong remembers this story. It had only been told once, out of the hundreds of sea legends and fantasies that his father had told him while the sailboat beneath them rocked gently on the waves.

“You must have been an amazing captain when you were younger, dad!” Hongjoong had turned behind to grin brightly at his father as the sailboat rose over another wave. “You’re so calm even when I’m scared! You don’t seem to be afraid of the big storms at all! That’s why you’re the chief commander of the Royal Navy, right?”

Hongjoong’s father had continued smiling, but even though Hongjoong had only been a boy then, he could see the way his father’s eyes fixed on a horizon far away, lost in his memories and his smile fading slightly from his face.

“The sea is a dangerous mistress,” his father had said softly, releasing one hand on the rudder to place it on Hongjoong’s head, a comforting weight. “That’s why it’s the captain’s role to guide his crew safely through any storm. As a captain, your first loyalty is to your crew. It’s a bond almost as strong as that of blood ties.” He ruffled Hongjoong’s hair so affectionately the boy couldn’t help but giggle. “Have you heard the saying, ‘a captain goes down with his ship’?”

“That sounds scary...” Hongjoong had shivered, hunkering down in the boat, slightly scared at the thought of falling into the sea. “What does it mean?”

Hongjoong’s father smiled at him. “It means that the captain holds ultimate responsibility for every member of his crew, and every person on board his ship. In an emergency, he will do everything in his power to save them, or give his life trying.” His voice turned slightly hoarse, and Hongjoong, perceptive even as a child, frowned at his father. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

His father had blinked, before he shook his head and gave his son a reassuring smile. “So, there’s no need to be scared, Hong. On this boat, if I’m the captain, who’s my crew?”

“Me!” Hongjoong yelled excitedly, throwing both hands into the air. “Me! I’m dad’s crew!”

His father’s eyes had softened.

“That’s right, my little map.” He pulled Hongjoong into an embrace with one arm, and Hongjoong threw both arms around his father, hugging him tight. “You... will definitely grow up and understand what it means to become a better captain than I ever was. I’m sorry I won’t be there to see it.”

“Dad?” Hongjoong hesitated, pulling away to look at his father in the eyes. Green met green, and his father smiled. “I don’t want to become a captain if it means leaving dad behind. I wanna be dad’s crew! Dad’s gonna be my captain forever!”

His father’s smile was stained with tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Dad’s crew... is already gone. There’s no one like them, and there will never be any like them ever again.” His father hugged Hongjoong harder. “That’s why I’m sorry you’ll endure so much for your selfish father’s sake and his failure.”

That day on, his father had never once mentioned his crew ever again.

But Hongjoong hadn’t been a fool. It hadn’t taken much for him to figure out as he grew older just what his father had meant by failure: failure as a captain, who was supposed to ensure the safety of his crew above all others. He had survived while the rest of his crew had died.

The captain goes down with his ship.

The very same philosophy that Hongjoong has never managed to shake, even if it had been his father who’d said those words. The same principles he lived and breathed by, to be a good captain, just like his father had said he would.

“Why me?” Hongjoong finally asks, his voice breaking. Yeosang and Wooyoung both turn to glance at him at the sound of his words wavering, fist clenched so tightly that his entire arm is trembling. “What exactly did you do to me? Why did you shoot me and leave me on this island to die? What exactly did you want with the gods that was worth killing me?”

“Hongjoong, I never meant to kill you. If I truly wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing here alive right now, because I would have simply shot you in the heart and left you dead.” His father says, so serious that it can’t be anything but the truth. “But your blood had to be spilled to call the sea goddess, because only you would be able to find her.”

“Me?” Hongjoong trembles, trying to deny it. “I don’t have anything to do with the gods. I didn’t even know they existed until-”

“Hongjoong.” His father cuts him off, soft voice so commanding Hongjoong falls silent instantly. “You were created with the essence of the sea. The blood of the sirens, the essence and life the sea holds, it flows in your veins. I made you with my own flesh and blood, Hongjoong. Just like the way water always finds its way back to the sea, I knew that you would be the map and the compass to my goal. You’re my son who I love, Hongjoong. I would never want to hurt you.”

Hongjoong stumbles backwards, and his knees feel weak. Is this how you felt when you had found out that you were made of clay? Perhaps he understands that now. He can’t seem to find his voice, head spinning and dizzy. He was made. Yet he can tell, knows the love his father held for him was real, and perhaps that is the most devastating thing of all.

“What do you want with the sea goddess?” Hongjoong manages to croak. He remembers the being that had taken over you last night, with its haunting, ancient blue eyes, the way it had tried to kill him in order to save Chin Hae’s life. What would his father want with something like that?

His father’s next words sends a chill down his spine.

“I’m going to kill the sea goddess.” He says calmly, mismatched eyes meeting Hongjoong’s with such intensity that his breath catches in his throat. “I’m going to become the god of the sea, and bring my crew back, no matter what it costs me.

Because I’m their captain, and they’re my crew.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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maddogofshimano · 3 years

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Chronicle of Rikiya’s Solitary Fight: Rikiya Sugoroku Event

This one was huge! And very very Okinawa specific! It was really hard to translate! Sugoroku events are board games, so this one had a little chibi Rikiya, which was pretty great.

I tried to put comments on anything that might be unclear, but feel free to message me if something isn’t making sense. Rikiya is bringing a lot of gay energy to this one, honestly.

Summary: Someone has spread a rumor that Kiryu is here to take over the Ryukyu Market, and it had gotten wildly out of hand. Rikiya tries very hard to keep Kiryu from finding out that everyone kind of hates him, and also tries to get to the bottom of who’s spreading this rumor. It....... doesn’t go great.

Haruka: Whaaaat! Uncle Kaz, you mean you still haven't found one yet? Kiryu: Sorry, I went to the supermarket but didn't see anything, so I was out fishing till now Rikiya: Nice to see you guys! Kiryu: Hey Rikiya. Rikiya: What were you two talking about? Haruka: Rikiya-san, have you ever eaten a gurukun? (Tl note: black tipped fusilier fish) Rikiya: Obviously I have! The gurukun is a fish that represents Okinawa itself! It's name on the mainland is takasago, right? Kiryu: That's right, but it's not very popular there. Neither Haruka nor I have eaten it before. Rikiya: Get out of here! How have you lived in Okinawa and never eaten one?! Well! All three of us are gonna go over to the public market right now! You can get all sorts of fresh fish there! Kiryu: We're going there right now? Rikiya: Yes sir! And I shall be your guide! Kiryu: Sorry, but Haruka and I actually have something to do after this... Rikiya: Is that so... Well then, it's up to me to hike out there and buy a gurukun myself! Kiryu: Is that okay? Sorry for the trouble. Rikiya: Next time though, when you have time, let's go together. In truth, I want you to help me look into the people invading the market even more than I want to show you the fish. Kiryu: People are invading the market? Rikiya: Yeah. Haven't the shop keepers seemed scared to you? Kiryu: Outside of the shops specifically for tourists, the place has a bit of a hostile air towards strangers. Especially around an outsider like me. Rikiya: Those guys are master craftsman, but terrible at talking to people. They're like that to locals too, but still, I don't think this has anything to do with foreigners or locals or mainlanders at all. Kiryu: Is that so? Well then, I look forward to the day I can visit the market with you as my guide. Rikiya: Well, I'm off! I'll be back in two shakes with that fish! <Rikiya in the market> Clerk: Hi, welcome! Rikiya: Blast! Clerk: Ah, Rikiya, what's wrong? Rikiya: You don't happen to have any gurukun, do ya? I want the freshest guy you got. Clerk: Ah, I have just the thing! Though, it's rare for you to be cooking, Rikiya. Rikiya: I ain't doing it. This is for Asagao to eat. Clerk: Asagao...? Rikiya: It's that orphanage down on the beach. My aniki Kiryu-san runs the place. Clerk: Kiryu............... Rikiya: This gurukun looks good. How much do I owe ya? Clerk: Ah, uhhhhhhhhhhh, I just remembered, a different customer actually put a hold on this fish! I'm sorry, you'll have to look elsewhere! Rikiya: What the... seriously? Eh, oh well. I'll just have to hit up a different store! <leaves> Rikiya: Hey! You doin' good? Different clerk: Ah, Riki-chan. Rikiya: I'm after a gurukun. Do ya have any here? Clerk: Ah, I've got a whole fish here. Rikiya: Yes! Kiryu no aniki is gonna love eating this! Clerk: Kiryu no aniki......!? Rikiya: Oh, you know him? Kiryu Kazuma. He's my aniki! Clerk: Get out! Rikiya: Eh? Clerk: The store is closed today! Go home now! Rikiya: Wh-What the hell? Ow! Everything's fine till I mention Kiryu, then everyone starts acting really weird..........?? Tourist: Um, were you just talking about Kiryu...? Rikiya: Yeah. Do you know somethin' about him? Tourist: Well, I overheard this at the market...... If that Kiryu Kazuma person is going to take over the market........... Rikiya: My aniki taking over the market??? What the hell does that mean?? Tourist: I don't know if it's true, but that's the rumor everyone's been talking about. Listen. Clerk 1: Isn't this market under the protection of the Ryudo Family? Wouldn't they protect us even if Kiryu did attack? Clerk 2: What a dumb thing to say, the Ryudo Family can't take Kiryu. You know that Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo? Well, Kiryu took that over in a single night. (Tl note: Tsukiji is the biggest fish market in the world) Clerk 1: Seriously!? But we're way smaller than that... Clerk 2: Mhm, plus it only took him an hour to take over. By himself. Clerk 1: Why I oughta stab that Kiryu guy! When he shows up, he'll have to answer to my butcher knife! Clerk 2: Your funeral. The rumor is that the last guy that resisted Kiryu got sold as mincemeat. Clerk 1: What a horrible bastard...! I should have expected as much from a mainlander! Tourist: I've been hearing rumors like that all week around here. Rikiya: Aniki taking over the market?? These rumor has grown like a dang weed, but who's the guy who planted it?! Tourist: Still... They say there's no smoke without a fire. Rikiya: Eh? What do you mean? Tourist: Oh, there's no deeper meaning to it. Well, I'm off... Rikiya: The hell? That woman.........? Rikiya: Ah, aniki! What's the meaning of all this? Kiryu: Haruka's errands ended up being faster than expected, so I figured I'd come over to the market. Rikiya: Ah, no, bad! You coming here is really bad! Kiryu: Why? Rikiya: Uhhhhhh, well..... They are completely sold out of gurukun! Kiryu: I see. Well, I'd still like to take a look around this place. I want you to be my guide and tell me about that invasion you were talking about. Rikiya: Really sorry! I'm already done with the market and on my way back to Asagao right now! So let's come back to the market some other day! Kiryu: I see. I was hoping to poke around and have some fun... Be safe on your way home. Rikiya: Shit! Stop! .......Dang. Aniki gettin stabbed by the market people wouldn't have been any fun at all....... Well, I was the one who got his hopes up in the first place.... I can't just say "Oh, the market's full of nasty rumors about you right now" now can I? What can I even do here...? Rikiya: Maybe I could persuade every one a single person at a time? But that would take so much time.... But where did these weird rumors come from anyways? I know my aniki's a mainlander, but stil... Rikiya: For the time being I better head back to Asagao. Aniki will get suspicious if I'm back late.... <END>

Rikiya, at Asagao: (Man, it's been a whole week and I haven't been able to do anything to combat the rumors about my aniki........ Well, people say rumors only last 75 days, so instead of freaking out about it maybe I should just wait it out..... Nnn. How many months is 75 days? That's so long....) Haruka: Rikiya-san, it's a shame that all the gurukun was sold out the other day, huh. Rikiya: Yeah... it's a really delicious fish! Haruka: I'm looking forward to eating it one day! I've been really interested in getting to know Okinawan cuisine better lately. Do you know souki? (Tl note: Okinawan stewed pork ribs) Rikiya: Of course! Stewed meat and bone done in the traditional Okinawan style. It's suuuuper tasty! Haruka: Uncle Kaz had some a year ago and said it tasted really good. I was going to go with him to buy some, so why don't you come too? Rikiya: Oh, nice. Which store? I'm glad it got my aniki's stamp of approval. Kiryu, appearing: The market. Rikiya: Hey, aniki. I got it. The market huh.... Wait, the market?! Kiryu: It'd be perfect to explore the market with you as our guide. And I'd like to meet those people you were talking about who were being invaded... Rikiya: Th-That's not gonna work! I mean, we really don't need two people to go to the market! Kiryu: What? Why? Rikiya: Because... it's....! Rikiya: Ain't it just blistering today? Hell, if a mainlander like you goes out in it, you'll get heat stroke in seconds! So just let me handle buying the souki, and just have you two stay put! Rikiya: Here, Haruka-chan, I'm gonna borrow shopping bag! Haruka: Hold on...! <Rikiya runs off> Kiryu: He's a pretty intense guy... <Rikiya back at the market> Rikiya: This sucks. I can't keep aniki and Haruka-chan from coming here for much longer without causing some big problems... Rikiya: For the time being I should listen in on how people are talking here at the market. Maybe the rumor just died..... Clerk 1: The story about this Kiryu person taking over the market all by himself. It's really unbelievable, right? Clerk 2: Yeah... It's impossible to think rationally about a story like that. There's no way just one guy could do that. Clerk 1: That's exactly it. So apparently Kiryu uses some kind of associate to work with him in his take overs. Clerk 2: An associate...!? Who is it? Clerk 1: The ryudo family captain.... Rikiya. Clerk 2: Ah! That evil asshole, he is always running around with Kiryu isn't he! Clerk 1: Right? Poor Rikiya has been completely brain washed by Kiryu. Clerk 2: Well, if Kiryu and Rikiya are working together, aren't they going to attack soon!? Clerk 1: Yeah. You're not wrong. Rikiya, bursting in: Hey! Don't be afraid! Clerk 1: R-Rikiya! How long have you been here?! Rikiya: What kinda dumbasses are you? My aniki has brainwashed me? We're gonna take over the market? Where the hell did ya get that idea! It's totally bull! Clerk 1: Well what are we supposed to think when even now, you, who loves Okinawa more than anyone, is wagging your tail over a damn mainlander! You're following him around and calling him aniki, brain washed isn't a strong enough word! Rikiya: You're wrong! I fell for my aniki's manly spirit! Kiryu no aniki is a man among men..... a real man!! (Tl note: THAT IS......... A ROMANTIC FELL FOR............ LIKE, USED FOR MINE ABOUT DAIGO..........) <Rikiya storms off> Clerk 1: Did you see that look in his eyes! It's the same as my cousins when he joined a cult! Clerk 2: He reall has been brainwashed....! Then he's going to attack alongside Kiryu soon! Clerk 1: Kiryu is going to grind our bones and destroy our business! Rikiya, returned: You guys are real nitwits on this. Yeah, Kiryu no aniki has a real intense look about him... Clerk 2: Hey! Look at that! Clerk 1: K-K-Kiryu......!! <Haruka and Kiryu are holding hands and walking through the market> Haruka: It sure is nice and lively in this market, isn't it Unlce Kaz? Kiryu: Yeah... Haruka: But, what's good to eat here? Kiryu: Ah, don't worry. You can make a lot of things from bones.... Rikiya, running over: Hold up aniki! Why'd'ya come here! Kiryu: Hey, you're the one who was so insistent on being by yourself. Clerk 1: Quick, everyone run! We're all going to die! Haruka: What's going on? Why are all the store owners running? Where are they going? Kiryu: What's happening? Rikiya: This is, uhhh.... a disaster preparedness drill! Kiryu: A disaster preparedness drill? Rikiya: Yes sir. We don't want anyone to die in a real emergency, so we're doing a drill... And because of that, you can't shop here today! Kiryu: Oh, well that's a shame. I wanted to eat that bone and cartiledge souki I had here before. Rikiya: Bone and cartelige.... Kiryu: It was cooked so long that you could even eat the bones. Rikiya: Well when the disaster drill is finished, I'll buy you some and bring it back for you guys, you please go ahead and go home aniki. Kiryu: Ah. I don't want to get in the way of the drill. Let's go home, Haruka. Haruka: Yeah. See you later, Rikiya-san. Rikiya: Whew.... that was close. Clerk 2: .....Huh? That bastard Kiryu, just went home? Was this just a reconnesince mission, and the real attack will be at a later date.....? Rikiya: Are you still on about that nonsense? Clerk 2: It's not nonsense, I heard him! Kiryu said in the market that "he's going to break our bones"! (Tl note: `break` is a homophone with `make` in this case) Rikiya: You're wrong. He was talking about souki... Clerk 2: Don't lie to my face like that! Chinpira: Hey, you all, where's Kiryu? Rikiya: What the? You assholes... Chinpira: We're bouncers. We were sent to protect the market from Kiryu. Rikiya: Sent? By who? Chinpira: I don't think this has anything to do with you, dumbass. Now did Kiryu come here already? Where'd he go? Clerk 2: He already left the market, we went that way. Chinpira: Yes! The hunt is on! Rikiya: Hold up. My aniki isn't trying to take over the market! Chinpira: I know who you are, you're Kiryu's little brainwashed Rikiya! How can you believe a shithead like that guy! Get away from him! Rikiya: If you really want to take on my aniki, you gotta get through me first. Chinpira: Heh... This brat's a lively one! He really is Kiryu's partner in crime! Let's get him! <fight, Rikiya wipes the floor with them> Chinpira: Ughh... s-strong! Rikiya: Tell me before you pass out. Who sent you assholes to protect the market, huh? Chinpira: It was... the market green horn club. Rikiya: Green horn club? Clerk 1: It's a group of all the young people working in the market. They get their hands dirty a lot, but they're extremely passionate about the market. Clerk 2: Yeah for sure. The green horn club were the first to detect Kiryu's invasion too. Rikiya: Hold up, then the source of the rumors is the green horn club? Clerk 2: Yeah, though they clearly aren't just rumors, but the green horn club spread the word around..... Rikiya: (So the green horn club is spreading these lies, but why? Should I try to get to the bottom of this right now? No. I still need to bring aniki that bone and cartelige souki I said I'd buy him. If I dillydally, he'll end up coming back to the market...) <END>

<Haruka and Kiryu in the kitchen at morning glory> Haruka: Ah! The meat is all sticky! Kiryu: That's because of how long it's been cooked, it lets you even eat the bones. Haruka: Rikiya-san, thank you for buying this cartelige souki! Rikiya: Oh, nah, it was nothing, that stuff's pretty cheap. Hehe.... Haruka: What other delicious foods are there? Kiryu: Well next time, we'll have to take a look around the market. Rikiya: (I'm doomed... They both want to go to the market even more... I gotta hurry up and get this rumor dealt with. Guess I'll have to check in with that greenhorn club.) Kiryu: Something wrong, Rikiya? I was going to check in with Nakahara later this evening. Rikiya: At his house? Kiryu: Yep. Apparently he wants to drink awamori with me. Will you be there too? (Tl note: awamori is a traditional okinawan alcohol that has a snake in it) Rikiya: Oh I really wanna but, I kinda got plans tonight already... Kiryu: Really? Why have you been so busy lately? There isn't any trouble, is there? Rikiya: What are ya talking about! There's no trouble at all! Please, just go have fun meeting with my boss for me! Ah, just remember that my boss has a habit of going wild if he drinks too much, and then getting sick. Kiryu: A drunk huh? I'll be careful with him. Rikiya: Well, give my regards to the boss for me! <Rikiya heads downtown> Rikiya: Man, this whole thing has me wondering if I'm even good enough to have Kiryu as my aniki... I really gotta solve this without bothering him. Alright, time to erase these rumors! Rikiya: Buuuuuut... I haven't found hide nor hair of this greenhorn club... Oh, there we go! Greenhorn member: Who's there? What is it this time... Rikiya: You, you're a greenhorn member of the market, yeah? Member: Yeah. I'm the head of... Wait, you! You're that Rikiya guy from the ryudo family! What's Kiryu's brainwashed crony doing here? Are you gonna raid the greenhorn club?! Rikiya: You dumbass. I ain't brainwashed at all. You on the other hand? You spread those fake rumors around the whole market, didn't ya? Member: Kiryu's takeover of the market... Sure, we made sure everyone learned about it. But it ain't a lie... Look at this! Rikiya: Huh? What's all these letters?? Member: These letters were put in the opinion box set up in the market. Rikiya: Opinion box? Member: Customers at the market write any problems and put it in the box. In the middle of all those was this letter. Read it yourself... Rikiya: "Please help me. Kiryu Kazuma is going to take over the market soon! The Ryudo family protecting the market can't compete with Kiryu. That's because... Kiryu is brainwashing their captain, Rikiya. In addition, Kiryu intends to kill the ryudo patriarch Nakahara." Rikiya: ...The hell is this letter! Who put this in the opinion box?! Member: Who knows. It was an anonymous tip. Rikiya: What, you guys just trust this anonymous tip completely?! Member: Hey, we didn't act on it at first. You own the deed to Morning Glory, if Kiryu did anything you could evict him. And obviously Kiryu couldn't brainwash a guy like you. But then, one day it all changed... Member: Out of nowhere you start calling your supposed enemy Kiryu, aniki, and you start pining* after him! (Tl note: to yearn for, long for, pine for, miss, love dearly, adore..... hot damn) Member: There's no way that would have happened besides you getting brainwashed! So that meant the letter was true!! Rikiya: No, that ain't right at all! It's just....! Member: Thought so. We got a new anonymous tip in the box today. Go on. Read it. Rikiya: "Kiryu Kazuma is going to poison the patriarch of the ryudo family... " Huh? Poison? Why the hell would he do something like that! Member: Huh? Hey, look over there! That man walking around... <Kiryu and Haruka walk by> Rikiya: A-Aniki....!? Haruka: Hey, uncle Kaz? Kiryu: What is it, Haruka? Haruka: Are you really going to give this to Nakahara-san for him to drink? Kiryu: Heh... if Nakahara tries to refuse it I'll just *make* him drink it. (Tl note: this sentence is really confusing, intentionally, but basically Kiryu is going to make sure Nakahara drinks something, which could be the poison) Haruka: Well, I guess you're already pretty strong. Though, is it really that potent? Kiryu: Don't worry. This method has been used for a long time. Kiryu: Well, we should hurry. I'm going to be late for meeting up with Nakahara. Member: See! You heard that just now, right?! Rikiya: Now hold on a minute! There's been kind of a misunderstanding! Member: Everyone get out here! Goons: What is it boss? Member: Kiryu is on his way to kill Nakahara right now! Goons: What! Then that anonymous tip we got today was right! Member: C'mon, let's all go and kill Kiryu! Goons: Yeah! We'll catch him before he makes it to Nakahara! Rikiya: Wait! Calm down! Member: Can it, Rikiya! We'll kill you too if we gotta! Rikiya: Go on and try me then! You're not making it an inch further! <Rikiya obliterates them> Member: Ugh... We gotta protect Nakahara.....! Rikiya: Seriously, my aniki isn't gonna kill my boss.... Rikiya: But what exactly were he and Haruka-chan talking about...? Nah, couldn't be. I do want to head after them and see what's up though..... Haruka: I know you said it's been used for a long time, but is that really true? Kiryu: Yeah, I heard the grown ups in ryudo talking about it. Kiryu: If you drink milk before drinking alcohol it coats your stomach, so it's harder to get sick from it... At least that's what they said. Haruka: Hmm! Well, I hope Nakahara-san will drink this milk. Kiryu: Ah, we're just a corner away from the office now. Rikiya, who has been tailing them: Ah... So that's what it was..... <returns to the greenhorns> Member: Huh? It's milk? That's an awful shitty lie, Rikiya! Rikiya: I think my aniki is just... a little scary with his speaking. And his looks. Even when he's talking about normal things it ends up sounding scary. Are you sure the comment box person didn't just misunderstand something Kiryu said? Member: No. There's multiple reports, and they come at different times of day and have different handwriting. You really think *all* those people listened to him and misunderstood in the same way? Don't be ridiculous. Rikiya: That's... well... Member: The real problem is you, Rikiya! Defending Kiryu with such a horribly flimsy excuse! I think you got brainwashed even harder than we expected. Did he embed something in your head? Rikiya: Huh? member: I saw it on TV! They put a chip in your body to control you remotely! Is that what Kiryu did to you!? Rikiya: Uh, no, that's... Member: D-Don't come any closer! You and Kiryu, that's more than we can handle! You guys... You're no longer human!! You're monsters!! Rikiya: Sheesh... This rumor just keeps getting bigger and bigger... <END>

<Kiryu, back at Morning Glory> Kiryu: Shit... I've already beaten (Tl note: punished, tormented) this guy for 2 hours and they're still hanging on. What a horribly stubborn bastard. Kiryu: I guess next I could submerge them in some boiling water? No, I have a hand at stake here... Haruka: What was that uncle Kaz? Did you drop something? Kiryu: Nah, I didn't drop anything. This frying pan has oil stains. (Tl note: KIRYU I THOUGHT IT WAS A LEECH AT LEAST. WHY DO YOU TALK LIKE THIS) Rikiya: (.....He was talking about oil stains...... For a minute there I thought he was torturing someone..... No wonder the anonymous comment box had messages like that, they must have misunderstood what aniki was talking about...) Rikiya: Hey, aniki. Have you ever thought about, uh, speaking in a little more friendly way? Kiryu: Huh? A more friendly way? Rikiya: Well, you've got kind of an intimidating way of talking, you know? It might make people think you're a lot scarier than you are... Kiryu: Has someone been misunderstaning me? Rikiya: No, nothing like that... Though I'd be pretty bad is nasty rumors started spreading about you at the market, right? It's not like you could go to each person in the market individually and clear up that kind of misunderstanding...... Kiryu: I'm not worried about that. Rikiya: Eh? Kiryu: Where do you go to untie a tangled up string? It's the "root" of it that's tangled, not the tip, right? It might look like a massive knot, but the base cause might be a little twist at the base. If you solve that, the rest will follow. Rumors and misunderstandings are the same. Rikiya: I getcha..... So basically, if you solve the first misunderstanding, it'll solve everything else?! Kiryu: Mhm. Everything stems from the root. Both for tangling and untangling. Rikiya: (All I gotta do is find the original person who submitted that rumor anonymously! Time to find them and solve this misunderstanding! Now that I know that, I better go keep an eye on the opinion box!) Rikiya: Thanks! Aniki! Kiryu: ...Hm? What happened to having nasty rumors spread about me? Rikiya: Wh-What are ya talking about! There's nothing like that happening! All the locals know you're a big softie! Kiryu: Speaking of the locals, what ever happened to that invasion of the market? Rikiya: Sorry! I... Gotta go right now! See ya! <Rikiya hurries to the market> Clerk 1: Hey, did you hear? Kiryu's putting chips in people's heads if they oppose him... Clerk 2: So for the rest of my life I'd end up being a brainwashed slave for Kiryu... Rikiya: (This rumor is seriously out of hand... I better hurry up and catch whoever's putting these things in the box. Though... I've been watching the box for a while now and no one's put in any letters... Well, guess I'll just have to camp out here every day until I catch the person behind it... Hm? Those men...?) <goons enter> Rikiya: (They look kinda familiar... That's right! Those are the assholes from the greenhorn club. Are they here to fight? That would make a huge mess here... Wait, the guy on the right has a letter in his hand...?) <goon puts it in the box> Rikiya: (He put it in! Why would the bouncers...? Are they the ones making up these rumors about Kiryu this whole time!? Was all this so they'd get hired as bouncers?! That's gotta be it!!) <Rikiya barges in> Rikiya: Hey, hold up! Goon: R-Rikiya?! What are you doing here?! Rikiya: I just saw you putting a letter in the opinion box, and I'm gonna check it out. Goon: Wh-What!! You can't do that, that's an anonymous message!! Rikiya: I'm pretty impatient about this. Did you put in another bad letter thinking I wouldn't see it? Goon: This doesn't concern you! You're not laying a single finger on that opinion box! Rikiya: Oh? Are you saying I can't see that letter without laying you out? That's fine! Come at me! I'll keep beating you down as many times as it takes! <Rikiya makes good on his word> Goon: Ow....... Don't touch that letter...... Rikiya: I'm gonna ignore your advice. Now let's see, here's the letter you put in... What do we have here~ "A complaint about the greenhorn club. The greenhorn club has not properly compensated the bouncers hired to prepare for Kiryu's invasion of the market. The greenhorn club should pay the bouncers as agreed." ...The hell? Goon: You happy? This is all your fault... The greenhorns said "we're not gonna pay that much to a bouncer who loses to Rikiya"! They went and cut our pay without even negotiating with us... so this is a letter of protest! Rikiya: So, you weren't the one behind the rumors about my aniki... Well, shit. Goon: I have no idea what you're talking about! Rikiya: Whatever, it's fine. You just head on home. If I see you here again though, I'm not gonna be so lenient. Goon: Damnit! <goon leaves, running directly into the tourist woman from the start of this> Tourist: Kya! Goon: Look where you're going, you moron! Rikiya: Are you okay, lady? Tourist: Ah, yeah, sorry. Rikiya: You... We met before, right? We were talking about the rumors about my aniki Kiryu? Tourist: Yeah, it's been a while! Rikiya: I guess you come to the market to shop pretty often. Huh? That in your hand... is that a letter? Tourist: Ah, this is, uh, well... Rikiya: Do ya mind if I take a peek? Tourist: N-No way! Rikiya: It's not decent to read a woman's letter without her permission, but the circumstances are dire... I'll give it back! <Rikiya swipes the letter> Rikiya: What do we got... "A follow up to Kiryu Kazuma's take over plan. Once he takes over the market, he'll start demanding expensive protection rackets from each store. Anyone who can't pay up, he'll kill, and make it look like an accident." ...So you're the one behind this!! Tourist: Uh, this is...!! Rikiya: This "follow-up" is all made up, isn't it!? Lady, who the hell are you!? What's the meaning of all this?! <END>

<directly following the previous one, Rikiya is questioning this tourist lady> Rikiya: Why the hell are you doing thing...!? These rumors about my aniki...?! Tourist: They aren't rumors! Kiryu Kazuma comes to my shop every week. Rikiya: Shop? Tourist: I'm a waitress at a coffee shop on the outskirts of ryukyu. Rikiya: My aniki goes there? But these rumors, it's just not adding up! First of all, why would a normal kid like you even know who Kiryu is? Waitress: Because he keeps calling himself that name on the phone... Rikiya: Phone? Waitress: He's always talking to someone. Every time he answers he says "It's me. Kiryu Kazuma." Rikiya: Okay, yeah, that's how aniki answers the phone, but who's he talking to? Waitress: I don't know. But every time he's always making plans to take over the market... First let's brainwash the captain of the ryudo family... Then let's poison the patriarch... Rikiya: You heard him say the stuff in your letters? Waitress: Yes. I didn't think there would be anyone who could protect the market... but if I could warn them, then at least Kiryu wouldn't be able to kill anyone... Rikiya: So you put a message in the opinion box then. Waitress: Yes. I'd heard that the greenhorn club were pretty strong. So if I could let them know, maybe they'd be able to stop Kiryu.... Rikiya: Miss, the guy you've been seeing at the coffee shop is not Kiryu Kazuma. It's a fake. (Tl note: Rikiya this is a wild assumption. I love it) Waitress: I can't believe that... But, how about you come to the coffee shop right now and see for yourself. Rikiya: What, right now? Waitress: Yes. Middle aged man: Could you wait a moment? Right now, did you say that Kiryu's in a coffee shop? That's strange. I just saw him and the convenience store. Rikiya: Eh? Middle aged man: I'm the manager and was just at the store a little while ago, and I saw Kiryu arrive. Rikiya: Was Kiryu possibly talking on a cellphone? Manager: Yeah. He was talking to someone, I don't know who. It was about a plan to take over the market... So, I eavesdropped, and I wrote this letter on what I heard to put into the opinion box. Man: I wrote the same thing in my letter from when he visited my store. Rikiya: You too...?? Man: He was in my barber shop. I heard him talking to someone on the phone about a plan to take over the market. Rikiya: Hey, hey! Is there a fake Kiryu Kazuma running around town!? We gotta get to that coffee shop! Lead the way, lady! Waitress: Yes! <they go> goon 1: Do you think it worked at the convenience store? goon 2: It went great. The manager was pretending not to listen, but he clearly was! goon 3: The barber too. He wrote down the whole conversation! goon 1: Hehehe... Perfect. It worked even with no one on the other end of the phone. goon 3: Well, think it's time to head back and see what the greenhorn club has to say about these letters? goon 1: Yeah. Seems they hired some chinpira to be their bouncer, but a goon like that can't handle Rikiya. That's something I plan on taking care of myself. goon 3: So, next time they'll hire a stronger guy, right? They're counting on someone to save the market they love so much. goon 1: Well, if they can find anyone that has the balls to take on Kiryu. With Kiryu seen as a threat ryudo family will lose their backing. They're gonna be shaking in their boots. Then the market will be easy pickings for us... the Tamashiro Family. goon 3: Hehehe... Man, inciting the citizens to wipe out Kiryu for us is a great plan. goon 1: Ain't it! We don't even get our hands dirty, they'll do all the hard work for us. We're gonna fly up the ranks of the Tamashiro Family for this one! goon 3: Yeah. But we gotta keep it a secret from the higher ups till it succeeds, I don't want them stealing all the credit. goon 1: Yeah... Alright! Let's head back to the office. Heeey! Check please! Rikiya: Yes sir. Three iced coffees comes out to 15 dollars. goon 1: Sure. Give me a receipt. Rikiya: Right now we're offering a free bonus to all Tamashiro Family members of being beaten half to death. goon 1: Oh, got it. Beaten half to... goon 1: Hey! You! Rikiya of the ryudo family! Rikiya: What made you think this was a good idea. Are you all idiots? Didn't you just join up last year? Your only saving grace is that I didn't tell the higher ups about this plan. If I told them, wouldn't all of you get kicked out of the family entirely? goon 1: What are you saying! This plan is going great! Once Kiryu bites it, the market is ours! Rikiya: Moron. You're the one who's going to bite it. goons: Let's teach this brat a lesson! We'll kill you first! <Rikiya kicks their asses> goons: Sh-Shit...! Don't think this is over! We'll have that market!! <they run> Rikiya: Heh, what a bunch of losers. Waitress: Should you chase them down? They might start spreading fake rumors in the city again... Rikiya: Don't worry about it. After today, no one's gonna believe rumors about my aniki Kiryu. Waitress: Are you going to tell the truth to everyone in the market? Rikiya: Yeah. But I can't be the one to say it. Everyone thinks I'm brainwashed, remember? So, can I count on you to explain things? Waitress: You want me to? Rikiya: You're the one who put in the original anonymous message, so it makes sense. If you tell them the truth, it'll unravel this whole tangled web. Waitress: I understand. I'm going to go tell them the truth. Rikiya: Please do. <she leaves> Rikiya: <answering the phone> Hello? Man's voice: Rikiya, you bastard! You've really done it now! Rikiya: That voice... The greenhorn club's leader? Boss: A surprise attack's a real dirty trick! Rikiya: Surprise attack? What are you talking about? Boss: Right now, you've sent Tamashiro members to take over the market! Rikiya: What?! Boss: I should have known Kiryu would brainwash the Tamashiro family too! goon 1, through the phone: I'm smashing everything! This is Kiryu aniki's orders! Boss: S-Stop it!! Rikiya: ...Shit! Those Tamashiro bastards got desperate! I gotta get that lady back from the market!! <she's back at the cofee store> Waitress: What were you talking about when you called me just now? Rikiya: The Tamashiro family is attacking the market! I gotta go stop them! <at the market> goon 1: Ain't this great! Today this market is gonna belong to Kiryu aniki! goon 2: Protection money starts at 1,000,000 yen! Pay up if you don't wanna get squashed! Clerk: Kiryu brainwashed the Tamashiro family too! If I pay that much, I'll go bankrupt! goon 1: I think you'll be lucky number one to pay up. Unless you want Kiryu to show up tomorrow and kill everyone? I'm sure all of you are adults, you can get the money from somewhere! Otherwise Kiryu aniki will... <Kiryu steps in> Kiryu: Otherwise I'll what? (Tl note: YESSSSSSSSSSSSS) goon 1: Ah, this is Kiryu aniki. One second, I have to talk to... goona 1: ....Eh? Kiryu?! Why are you here?! Kiryu: Am I not allowed to shop? I thought the market was open to everyone. goon 1: Y-Yeah...! This market is for everyone...! Especially for aniki! Hahaha! goon 1: Please enjoy the market as much as you like!! We're just gonna get out of your way..!!! Kiryu: Wait. Kiryu: How about you step aside? Something doesn't feel right here. goon 1: Y-Yes sir. (This is my first time seeing him in person, he's so strong! I'm scared!) <Kiryu looks at the letter submitted> Kiryu: I've brainwashed the Tamashiro Family? I'm going to take over the market? Kiryu: Well, looking back on how Rikiya has been acting and talking lately, I've got a pretty good idea on what the situation has been. Clerk 2: K-Kiryu really did come here!! Please, spare my life...!! Kiryu: I'm not going to take over the market or kill any of you. All of that has been a lie from the Tamashiro Family. Clerk 2: You can't fool me! You're a villanous mainlander! Aren't you going to kill me if I can't pay protection money?! Clerk 2: Well, I'm not just gonna roll over and die! I'll cut you to shreds... with this butcher knife! Kiryu: I'm not going to kill you, are you even hearing what I'm saying? Clerk 2: Yeah. I'll believe you if you just let me stab you quietly! Not like that's gonna happen! Do you have weapons hidden around here? A gun? A dagger? What are you going to kill me with? Kiryu: Nope, I came to this market unarmed. Kiryu: Stab me. The heart's on your right. Clerk 2: I-I'm gonna do it! I'm really gonna stab you! Kiryu: Yep. I'm ready. Clerk 2: Hnn....! Hnnnnnn.....!! Dieee!!!!!! goon 1: (Woah! he did it! That's the end of Kiryu!) Kiryu: ...What is it? Why did you stop? clerk 2: What is this? What the hell is all of this!? Kiryu: I want you to believe me. So, this is what I'm doing. clerk 2: You'd throw away your life for a reason like that...? Kiryu: Believing in someone isn't a superficial thing. Especially when you're a stranger to me, trust is hard to build. But, I have to believe in people. I do it for all the orphans living at morning glory. Kiryu: If I, the caretaker, go behind their backs like this, those children won't be able to keep living here. clerk 2: So this... for those children? Kiryu: Yes. I would gladly risk my life to care for them. clerk 2: You, who only thinks of those children even at risk to your body... Can't be the same person who plans to take over this market... clerk 1: I feel the same... You just aren't the kind of guy I've heard about in the rumors! clerk 2: I've decided! I believe Kiryu! clerk 1: Yes, me too! goon 1: (Shit! This is all falling apart!) Kiryu: Hold on a minute, Mister Tamashiro Family Member. goon 1: Wh-What for..?! Kiryu: I'm not the one that needs anything from you, it's them. Clerk 1: Is this all your doing? You spread these terrible rumors and scared us all? Clerk 2: We'll make you feel just as intimidated as we were! You dirty rat! (Tl note: the actual phrase here is an okinawan one meaning he can't be place upwind cause he'd make everything downwind stink) <fade to black> Rikiya: Ha.. Ha...! Where are they? Where's teh Tamashiro family? Goons, beaten to shit: H-help me...! Rikiya: You're, Tamashiro family? goons: We're never gonna come back to this scary ass market again! Rikiya: They hell is going on??? Clerk 2: Rikiya. Rikiya: Meat clerk? Clerk 2: You really weren't brainwashed... We were all wrong... Please, forgive me! Rikiya: Oookay, why are you saying this all the sudden? Clerk 2: We were all brought to our senses. By that guy's manly energy. <Kiryu walks over> Rikiya: A-Aniki!! What are you doing here!? Kiryu: Shake off that shock, you've got a market to show me around, right? Rikiya: What do they mean by, you brought them to their senses with your manly energy? Kiryu: Don't worry about that. There is one thing I don't understand though. You've known about these bad rumors the whole time. Why did you hide it from me? If you'd told me about it earlier it never would have gotten this messy. Rikiya: That was... I had told you before that the people at the market were all kind hearted, and my pride as your otouto (Tl note: opposite of aniki) wouldn't let me make myself a liar like that... I wanted to solve it myself! I didn't want to bother you aniki! Kiryu: We haven't actually exchanged oaths. You just call me aniki. Rikiya: ................ Kiryu: However, if we were really kyoudai, you should bother your aniki a lot. That's the otouto's job. Rikiya: Eh? Kiryu: You said that's your pride as an otouto? I have the same pride as an aniki. I can't allow myself to be taken care of by my otouto. So next time, when there's any trouble, come to me right away for advice. Kiryu: ......Then I'll be happy for you to call me aniki. Rikiya: Uuu... Aniki! Thank you so much! Clerk 2: Hehe. You got yourself a real fine aniki Rikiya! Kiryu-san, we can't apologize to you enough. I fell for those rumors and thought you were a terrifying person. I'm so sorry. Kiryu: It's all fine. By the way, you run a meat store, right? Clerk 2: Yes. We've got every delicious thing you could want, I'll give it to you on the house! Kiryu: Oh, no. I couldn't impose on your like that... That butcher knife however... Clerk 2: The knife... Wh-What do you want to use it on...? Kiryu: For offing. (Tl note: the specific term is シメる which is yakuza slang for killing someone, based on strangling them) Clerk 2: Offing? Kiryu: Why do people never understand me. I'm going to use it to kill. Clerk 2: But I thought... that you weren't a scary person! H-H-Help me!! <he flees> Rikiya: Hold up, what did you mean by that?! You were gonna kill with it?! Kiryu: Hm? Oh, I just bought this at the fish market... Rikiya: That's... a gurukun!? Kiryu: I came to buy it, since it had been forever and you still hand't brought me one. If you ask the fishmonger for a very fresh one, he'll sell you ones that are still alive. But since it's hard to carry with it thrashing around in the bag, I wanted to just off it here. Rikiya: So that's what you meant.......... Aniki, you remember what I was saying to you a while ago? About trying to speak in a more friendly way? Kiryu: Yeah. I've been working on that little by little. Rikiya: Then what was that! Half of this whole thing is your fault cause you sound like a really bad dude! No one would have believed the rumors if you actually sounded like as nice of a guy as you are! Kiryu: Heh, finally the old, hotblooded Rikiya has returned... Great, now I can finally enjoy Rikiya's guided tour of the market. Please show me around thoroughly. It's time to begin our tour. Rikiya: Wait, aniki! Stop just running off on your own...! Jeez~ I guess it can't be helpeddd~ <END>

Bonus facts: okay this isn’t really a fact but my husband walked by while I was reading this and said it was a Rikiya dating sim

By the way, here’s the word I was kind of losing my mind about. It’s uh. It’s a lot tbh.

He also has thoughts on most of the Y3 cast as he goes around the board, here’s his one for Kiryu.

Kiryu no aniki I had no idea a person even greater than my boss existed... No, greater than anyone in the whole wide world!

#rggo #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #yakuza #Kiryu #Haruka #Rikiya

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fckinsupreme · 4 years

Note

May I please request a fic? Where Michael comes to the outpost and during his stay there, reader can sense he’s lonely just like she is. So she takes it upon herself to go to his quarters, even though they’ve never spoken a word to each other, and climb into his lap and just hold him. And instead of being the mysterious asshole everyone thinks he is, he just turns so soft and holds her so tightly and starts crying because he hasn’t had genuine touch in so long. 😁

Your heart is in your throat as your knuckles rap the door, waiting for permission to enter. Your nerves are frayed, throat dry as you try to rehearse what you’re going to say again. You spoke in your room to yourself dozens of times before coming here, and now you were going through it again in your mind. The man who called himself Langdon was waiting on the other side, a man whom you hadn’t spoken a word to since his arrival at Outpost 3. He was set to interview you at some point, but it hadn’t come yet.

You knew you were making a huge mistake. What would he say when you told him you’d sensed his loneliness? Your intuition and reading of people had been a blessing & a curse in your old life, and it appeared it was one aspect which followed you into the new world. He was a solitary figure, a loner, someone who was without touch & love. You could feel it coming off of him like heat, but there was also an undercurrent of danger that followed. He could react violently to what you say, but so what if he did? You were sick of living like this, anyway. Day in and day out, unable to go anywhere or do anything, knowing that the life you once knew would never return. What did you have to lose?

You knock again, louder this time. His voice commands you to enter, and you take a deep breath before turning the knob. Your eyes find him on his bed, sitting upon the edge in nothing but silk black boxers. His long hair cascades his shoulders, freshly washed and brushed, the smell of sweet, floral soap filling your senses. Where had he gotten that? The Sanctuary, perhaps?

“Yes?” he asks, icy blue eyes fixating upon you. “What is it?”

“I—“ you begin, the expression in his eyes making you forget everything you had planned to say. “I wanted to, uh...welcome you to the Outpost.”

“Thank you?” he says, eyeing you in distaste before turning to fluff his pillow. “Is that all?”

“No,” you say, nervously wringing your hands before sighing. “I, um....uh....”

“Spit it out,” he snaps. “I’m tired and wish to retire for the night.”

Your words are failing you. You can’t formulate a solid, coherent sentence, and you know you can’t turn back now. You walk over to him, deciding that it’s now or never and the risk is one that has to be taken. You climb into his lap, sitting sideways upon his thighs and wrapping both arms around his neck. You can feel him freezing, his muscles tense as you settle upon his lap. For several minutes, nothing happens. You’re both silent, the only sounds in the room your shared breathing and your heart thudding in your chest. He makes no attempt to push you away, and you’re surprised to see him wrapping his arms around you in return after several minutes.

“Langdon—“ you begin, but you’re cut off when you see two tears trailing down his cheeks. “Wait, are you crying?”

He shakes his head, but you can see the tears on his cheeks glowing in the candlelight. You frown, reaching out to wipe away his tears. You don’t know what’s wrong, and you wonder for a moment if you’ve done something to upset him. You make to stand, but his grip on you tightens as he shakes his head.

“No, don’t...” he says, his voice heavy with tears. “You don’t have to move. It’s just...No one has ever done this for me.”

“I know,” you say with a sad smile. “I could sense that you were lonely.”

“I am,” he says, sniffling loudly before averting his gaze from you. “I guess you could say I never had love when I was young.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, tucking some of his damp hair behind his ear. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I have never been touched or held like this,” he says. “I’ve been touched with love, but she’s...that woman is dead. She may live on in many ways, but it isn’t the same. I know it.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, feeling your own heart beginning to snap. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, it’s as if something in him has shifted. Gone is the crying boy, the sad figure whose lap you were perched, and now an angrier man sits in his place. He grabs hold of your throat, his grip bruising as he throws you onto the bed. You look up at him, both fear and arousal coursing through your veins as you meet his eyes. His own are blazing with fury, but there’s pain within, too. He brings his face close to yours, his breath sweet as it fans across your own face.

“You don’t know shit about me,” he hisses. “You think you do, but you don’t know the first thing about my life. Why don’t you run along, hm? Why don’t you go back to being the nosy little bitch that we all know you are?”

You fight a moan, coughing and rubbing your throat when he releases you. A smirk tilts his lips, and he climbs on top of you. You don’t fight him, not wanting to, desiring him in every single form that he would allow. He pins you down by your wrists, his tongue traveling over your pulse point as he grins.

“Do you want to touch me?” Michael whispers in your ear. “Do you want to be touched? I could arrange that for you. Do you think you can handle me?”

You nod, trying to hook your legs over his waist. He squeezes your wrists in warning, shaking his head. “Ah, ah. We’re doing this on /my terms/, do you understand?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Yes...?”

“Yes /sir/,” you say, and he grins.

“Good girl,” he says, licking your jawline. “You’re about to see how touch starved I truly am, little one. I’m going to let you go and when I do, I want you to take off your nightgown for me. You’re going to demonstrate how you touch yourself when you are alone, and I will fulfill your every desire.”

—

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @angel-langdon @leatherduncan @lvngdvns @rebelyelll @wickedlangdon @melodylangdon @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @dark-mei-rose

#THIS SUCKS IM SORRY #michael langdon #michael langdon blurb #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon request

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curtashiism · 4 years

Text

Long rant/vent ahead

It’s hard, because I know I genuinely love biology. I love learning about anatomy and physiology, and I have an affinity for bio as a whole. But I don’t know that it’s really what I want to do, and I feel like I was never given the chance to fully explore what I actually wanted to do because of my mom’s manipulative behavior to me growing up.

When I was younger I wanted to do something with music, but my mom told me I wouldn’t be good enough. I didn’t have the talent my sister did at the cello, which was why they sunk so much money into her cello rental and lessons but wouldn’t get me any lessons.

My mom told me future was in academics and I never really questioned it. Her grandma had a premonition (my mom’s words, not mine) that I would go into the sciences. So my mom never let me consider anything else. She tried her best to shut any other ideas I had down. She never came to a single one of my track meets when I ran in 8th grade. I mean, I finished dead last in every race except the one time I finished second to last, but that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have had to be good to earn her involvement. But that’s how it was with her. She only cared when it was something I was good at- academics. She’d come to the awards ceremonies when I made honor roll, but never cared about my other interests.

So I settled on the medical field at some point- I thought a doctor or vet for a while but I’m not good enough at math, physics, or chem, so now I’m thinking public health.

Before I started college, I wanted to take a break from school, get a job, and figure things out. But my mom didn’t want that. She thought if I did that, I’d never go back to school, and we couldn’t have that now could we? So she did what she does- she manipulated the situation to get what she wanted to my detriment. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want loans. She said “we all go into debt, suck it up” and told me if I didn’t start the next term she would kick me out.

So I did. Then once I had the loans finalized, she told me she was never going to kick me out, she just wanted me to “get my life together.” Because clearly it’s not my right to make those decisions, it’s hers, and if I wasn’t ready to start college at 19 my life must have been falling apart.

So now here I am, entering my senior year of college at 26 years old, panicking because I need to start preparing for a Master’s program but I don’t FEEL ready at all and I’m not sure this is actually what I want to do. I like the arts. I want to learn more about them. I want to learn to play the violin, I want to see if I can act (I’m practicing voice acting and am loving it and my friends say I actually am not bad at it and I have a cute voice perfect for child characters), or maybe even try to write a play (I love theater and I love writing.) Hell, I think I’d be happier joining the Peace Corps or going to the Kalahari Desert to volunteer with the meerkat study project for a year. I’m not ready for grad school- but I feel like I HAVE TO do it.

But that’s the thing. I try so hard to get my mom to approve of my decisions for just ONCE in her life. But even when I do exactly what she wants it doesn’t happen. She wanted me to do the science stuff to begin with- but when I tell her there’s a couple of MPH programs down in NYC, I would just need to finally get my driver’s license and a car, she starts making me defend my decision. She asks all these questions that make it sound like I’m some kind of idiot for wanting to get a Master’s degree. And maybe I fucking am, but not for the reason she thinks.

I told her I was going to learn the violin and her reaction was to get mad that I asked if I could practice it in the apartment during my visit home. When it looked like I was going to get to study abroad in London, before COVID, she made it all about her and her letting go issues.

When I graduated with my Associate’s degree- I’m the only one in the immediate family to do so, by the way- my mom cried before my graduation. Because she was devastated it wasn’t my sister.

And I honestly don’t know why I still even try. I know she has four kids but only cares about one. She will NEVER care about me or actually be proud of me. Not if I get a Master’s degree, not if I become a doctor, not if I became a tapdancing polyglot brain surgeon who cures cancer on the moon. She isn’t capable of it. On top of that, she has no grasp on who I actually am as a person.

She has a twisted and distorted view of me where I am a manifestation of all the things she fears are true of herself. All the things she doesn’t want to be, she projects onto me. She calls me hateful and judgmental and mean because I tell her not to call me when she’s been drinking. One single, solitary boundary I request and that’s too much for her. She was jealous of me as an INFANT because my dad doted on me. You have no idea how many times she’s been in the middle of a bender and accused me and my dad of literal incest because we’re close. “You’re his second wife” “there’s some Mormon shit going on between you two!” She doesn’t know the first thing about me. She told all my relatives that I only was in the orchestra as a teen because I wanted to be like my sister, not because I actually liked to play.

I do not admire a single thing about my fucking sister. This is the same sister who conspired with my first boyfriend and got him to sexually abuse me. The same sister who got high on meth and fucking raped our little brother. The same sister who told me about this while she was blackout drunk, then licked my neck. The same sister whose behavior I told to my mom and got a response of “well to be fair I’ve fantasized about your neck too!” Oh but see, if my mom was to be believed, my fucking sister never did anything to hurt my little brother, no sir. He made it up for attention, and I “planted lies in his head because I wanted to prove an agenda about men being able to be raped by women.” Because she thinks I’m so evil I would use my little brother as a pawn for a social experiment just to hurt my sister.

I don’t admire anything about my sister. I barely even fucking feel sorry that she fell into sex trafficking and had the same thing done to her that she did to my little brother. I should be upset about it, but I just feel apathetic, especially since she got to see her abuser put behind bars while my little brother is still dragged out to visit her every time my folks (who he still lives with as an adult) decide to see her. She’s a shitty person. The world will be a better place when she fucking dies. She convinces everyone she meets that she’s a wonderful person because she tells them what a long journey she’s been on and how she’s working so hard to heal through her faith (conveniently leaving out the part where she victimized others as much as she was a victim herself). Bitch, you don’t get a cookie because you fucking went five years without sexually abusing your younger siblings. Jesus isn’t fucking proud of you. I’m certainly not.

But of course, since she’s the one my mom favors, she can do no wrong. My mom is no better than her in my eyes.

So that brings it back to, why the FUCK do I want her approval?

Why the fuck do I care?

She certainly doesn’t care about me. If all the above shit isn’t proof, the fact that she got drunk when I was 15 and said she wished she could kill me is. The fact that she gave me PTSD from all the shit she put me through is proof. The fact that she made me coming out as a lesbian all about her is proof. The fact that she would go on a hateful rant about trans people- even though she doesn’t know I am, she knows I care deeply about the issues which should be enough but some isn’t- is proof. The fact that she honestly can NOT remember what my birthday is and has to be reminded by my dad is proof. The fact that she once called me a bitch on my birthday, which she forgot was my birthday until my little brother reminded her, is proof. The fact that she tried to tear my dad and I apart because she was too insecure to handle my dad “choosing his kids over her” is proof. The fact that she put me in the position of having to let her scream and throw things at me to protect my younger brother, because the alternative was letting her hurt him instead, is proof. The fact that I self-harmed for nearly a decade because of her and only got clean when I moved 3,000 miles away (what a coincidence!) is proof.

She’s fucking sick and is never going to be anything approaching a good mother to me because she doesn’t see me as me, she just makes me the lightning rod for her anger whenever she gets pissed off. When she’s pissed off, I’m an emotional punching bag, and when she’s hurting I’m a substitute therapist who will do all the emotional heavy lifting for her because she fucking knows how to use my compassion and guilt complex against me.

She has reasons, in her head, for why I’m so awful and deserving of her anger, which it took me years to learn weren’t actually excuses because I was a CHILD and she had no right to hold shit against me. And I know the truth is that she’s never proud of me because she doesn’t actually want my success- especially not when my sister doesn’t have it. She treats me the best, the nicest, when I fail, because that’s what she wants for me, even if she pretends otherwise. She’s sick and she’s so determined to play victim for her whole fucking life that she will never NOT be sick this way.

And I’m even sicker than she is because I still try after all these years. The real definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. I just keep getting my hopes up that one day, I will say the magic words that will make her actually be supportive. Like if I get a magical piece of paper to show her she’ll think I’m actually worth something, but she never will and I’m an idiot for hoping. If she hasn’t got it by now, she never will. My dad loves me for me, my brothers loves me for me, my grandma loves me for me, my aunts and uncles and cousins love me for me, my friends love me for me- it’s just my mom who can’t figure out that I’m worth more than what I can do for her.

Fuck her. I’m either going to go to grad school or I’m not, but whatever I do will be awesome. I might act or play the violin or write plays or I might study ethnomusicology, or who knows, maybe I will go through with this public health stuff. Either way I’ll be surrounded with people who actually see me for me and are capable of feeling joy at my accomplishments. Maybe I’ll stupidly keep trying to include her, but I’ll have others around me when she inevitably disappoints me yet again. And she can’t say the same because she drives everyone who might care about her away.

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orwocolor · 5 years

Text

saturday mornings with borhap boys in bed

AN: As always, the rest of the boys are under the cut. Enjoy and don’t forget to comment :)

Gwilym

a loud beeping noise startles you

your body jerks up, and with your eyes still closed, your hand shoots to an alarm clock sitting on your bedside table, snoozing the alarm as quickly as possible

you groan and burrow back into duvets

you scoot over to gwilym who’s lying right next to you

although he’s still half asleep, he opens his arms wide and let you snuggle into him

he encircles his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible

you take a deep breath through your nose, and breathe in his scent

you nuzzle the crook of his neck, his beard scratching lightly against your forehead

he starts weaving his fingers in your hair but soon enough, his arm grows heavy on you and he’s back in deep slumber

and you desire nothing else and so you soon follow him

but as it usually it, five minutes later, the sound of the alarm clock pierces through your bedroom

this time, it’s gwil who reaches over you and dismisses the alarm completely

you roll on your back and rub your eyes

“I think we should get up,” you say, sheer reluctance apparent in your groan

“er, what about no,” gwil answers and moves to lie on top of you, pressing his ear against your chest, listening to your heartbeat

and also holding you in bed, and not letting you go

“come on” you insist, and give him a weak push, since your heart’s not in it

you feel like it is you whom you try to convince to get up rather than gwilym

“five more minutes” he whispers into your skin and slides down his hand to caress your side

“what about the kids?” you ask

“they’re fast asleep, it’s middle of the night”

“it’s light outside”

“irrelevant,” he says resolutely and pulls you closer to him

you move to rise up but he holds you still “come on, stay here”

“if I stay here, will you fix the dripping tap that you said you would fix about a week ago? I mean, I can fix it myself but where’s the fun in that,” you grin, “and besides, you promised”

he hides a chuckle into your chest and places a delicate kiss there “okay, I’ll do it”

“promise? for real this time?”

he huffs and raises on his elbows to look into your eyes

he licks his fingers and lifts them up “promise, scout’s honour”

“and you’re gonna do it first thing in the morning?” you smile at him

“I’m gonna do other things first” his eyebrows wiggle and you can’t help but kiss him

“but before I’m gonna get to it,” he continues when your lips finally part “let’s go back to sleep”

Joe

you slowly open your eyes and look around your bedroom

you blink a few times, still getting accustomed to the light streaming down on you through a window

a quiet groan leaves your mouth and you stretch your body, feeling all sorts of good

you blush as you remember the last night and hide your grin into a pillow

“joe” you whisper as you turn around but his side of the bed is empty

“joe?” you say again, a bit louder and your fingers grazes the cold sheets

that’s when you hear a crash and loud “damn it!” coming from the kitchen

okay good, he’s alive and at home

he also probably just broke something but hopefully he’s not hurt

“joe?” you yell, way too reluctant to get out of the bed

his head pokes into the bedroom and he gives you a smile, looking out of breath

“good morning, love, hope you slept well” he says quickly “erm, the bowl with those little pink roses... that wasn’t, I mean isn’t precious, is it?”

“no, it wasn’t and that’s your only luck, sir” you point your finger at him in mocked annoyance

“great! stay exactly where you are, I’ll be right back!” the last words are muffled by the closed door, since he’s already gone before he can finish the sentence

you fall back and pull the duvet to your nose, trying to stay warm

it takes a few minutes before joe enters your bedroom again, a bed tray in his hands

“oh my god, that smells delicious” you start salivating from the scent only and you even haven’t had a bite

“only the best for my best” joe places the tray across your legs and you sit up properly

“that was cheesy af, but you’ve brought me food, so you’re forgiven” you plant a quick kiss on his cheek as he plops down next to you, still wearing his pyjamas, and you dive into your breakfast

there’s everything, coffee, juice, pancakes, syrup, red fruit, yoghurt, toasts, gummy bears

wait, gummy bears?

you pick up the bowl with them and raise your eyebrows, pointedly looking at joe

he just shrugs “breakfast is the most important meal of the day, it has to be as nutritious as possible”

“right” you say slowly and do not further comment on it

“hey!” you yell when joe grabs a few blueberries “you thief! that’s my breakfast”

“soon, we’re gonna share everything you know? in good times and bad, in sickness and health and all that stuff? as my wife-to-be you shouldn’t mind sharing your breakfast with me” he gives you a big goofy smile

you return it, but he doesn’t notice as you stealthily take a few gummy bears into your hand

you toss them at him a burst in laughter when you see his surprised expression

“ah, you’re so gonna pay for that!” he says and grabs a handful of gummy bears as well, with a mischievous look in his face

Ben

when you wake up, it’s still quite early as you can’t see the sun yet

but you can tell it’s almost the crack of dawn

you groan in pain the moment you straighten your leg as you stretch and you get a cramp into it from sleeping curled up in a ball the whole night

you grit your teeth and force yourself to keep it stretched, although it hurts so much

after a little while, the pain dissipates and you calm down

there’s no need to look around, since you already know that you’re alone in bed

it’s not so long ago since you moved into ben’s place

and it didn’t take you much time to realise that your mornings were going to be a solitary affair

unless he’s working, he starts his day with a morning jog, getting up when you’re still deep in slumber

at first, you were confused and worried by his absence but you got used to it by now

you grab the book on your bedside table and start browsing through it to find the part where you finished the last time

immersed in the story, you hear a key turning in the lock of the front door and barking

“quiet, girl, we don’t want to wake up y/n” he yell-whispers to frankie

you can hear her paws patting against the wooden floor in the living room as she runs around the house

“no, frankie, no!”

she barges into the bedroom and jumps on the bed, immediately coming for your face as she gives it a proper lick in greetings

“and good morning to you, too!” you scratch the area behind her ears and she grumbles appreciatively

ben’s at her heels and rushes after her

“frankie! down!”

you give her a hug, not letting her go and planting a kiss on her head

“it’s fine, I’ve been up already” you nod towards the book that’s lying open on the bed next to you

“oh, okay” ben gives you a smile which you reciprocate

you finally take him in and you like what you see

he’s out of breath, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and dripping down the sides of his head, a black t-shirt snuggly hugging his torso, earphones swinging against his chest, and his grey sweatpants sagged down on his hips

you bite your bottom lip and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed

he clears his throat and darts his eyes down to the floor "I’m gonna get a shower”

“you forgot something” you say and he looks you in the eyes, confused

“did I?”

“uh-huh” you tap your lips and give him a cheeky smile

he releases a relieved sigh and stalks over to you, covering your lips with his

“good morning, love” he whispers against your mouth

“good morning” you answer, a smile audible in your voice, happy that he’s back home

he leans further down and kisses you again, his tongue sliding against yours

“stop it!” you say with laughter when your lips part “you’re all sweaty and you’re squishing poor frankie”

she’s still nestled in your lap and gives him an annoyed look

“sorry girl” he apologises and pets her head

she licks his palm - apology accepted

“and what about me? I won’t get an apology? your sweat is everywhere!”

“I saw you ogling me, love, and well, now you’ve got a reason to join me in the shower”

Rami

you emerge from dreams slowly and gradually

first you feel the light kiss of sun on your eyelids and you smile sleepily

when you finally open your eyes, you find out the source of light is not the sun but a lamp sat on one of the bedside tables, the one on the opposite side of the bed

it takes you a moment to come back to earth and differentiate between your dreams and reality

you stir and hide a yawn into your palm

“good morning, my love”

rami’s voice is soft and tender and he leans down to kiss your temple

he sits in your bed, his back against the headboard

“morning” you respond and take a deep breath through your nose

you raise your eyes and gaze at him

he’s reading a script, always the perfectionist he is

the filming starts on monday and he wants to be prepared as much as he can be

the light coming from the lamp illuminates the other side of his face that is turned away from you

the glow makes him look almost angel-like

“what time is it?” you ask, still feeling a bit groggy

he turns to his bedside table

“half past seven” he answers

after a single beat you realise you were supposed to get up early and get your children prepared for a weekend at their grandma’s

“crap, the kids, I forgot”

you almost jump out of the bed but rami is quick to stop you

“no, no, don’t worry, all’s done, my mum’s already left with them” he explains

“wait, what?” your brain just can’t start functioning properly and you feel even more disoriented

“I woke them up, dragged them out of their beds, prepared breakfast, packed their bags, made them put their clothes on, that took as long as any other morning, which means forever, then I had to change said, since he put on his shirt the wrong side out and he put his shoes on the wrong feet” he chuckles at the last bit

“you should have woken me up” you say sincerely and lift your head to caress his face

“I know you didn’t get that much of sleep” he answers and puts the script on the bed “I heard you sneaking out of our bedroom when the storm began, I know you went to their room and stayed there for some time”

“you know how much thunders frighten them” you offer as an explanation and look down on your hands in your lap

“I know, and I love you so much for everything you do” he notices how your hands fidget, so he takes them into his and presses kisses on them

“so” you start slowly “the kids are gone?”

“uh-huh”

“and they’re not gonna return anytime soon?”

“uh-huh”

“and we’re alone?”

“uh-huh”

you cock an eyebrow and wait for the penny to drop

his face lightens up in understanding and he kisses you on your lips

and it’s a hell of a kiss

#gwilym lee x reader #joe mazzello x reader #ben hardy x reader #rami malek x reader #borhap boys headcanons #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee imagine #joe mazzello fluff #joe mazzello imagine #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy imagine #rami malek fluff #rami malek imagine #headcanons #borhap boys x reader #vee writes #mine

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cyborgsquirrel · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary: Chapter 12

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Thursday, 9th September 1971

Remus finished slurping down the dregs of his medi-witch prescribed morning chocolate injection and slapped his lips in appreciation.

‘That was as delicious as always, Breen. Thank you.’ There truly was nothing better than starting the day with a huge dose of cocoa. The fact that it was good for him was just the icing on the cake. ‘Would it be okay if I spent some time in the laundry room? I think the atmosphere would help me meditate,’ Remus asked the elf as he stood up from the table.

‘Of course, Master Remus,’ Breen said, appearing delighted to be able to help him in another way.

Remus thanked him and made his way to the laundry room. Plumes of warm steam billowed out as he pushed the door open and the scent of soap filled his nose. The smell was strong but not unpleasant, so Remus could tolerate it. Once inside, he leant against one of the washing buckets with his arms propped on the rim and stared into the swirling liquid, allowing the heat of the room and the sounds of the water to lull him gently into his mindscape

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when an elf disturbed him by calling his name.

‘Is you okay, Master Remus?’ the female elf asked.

He jolted painfully from his meditation and opened his eyes. ‘I’m fine, thank you. I was just meditating,’ he assured her, and she scurried off back to her work. He assumed she put the word out because the rest of the elves left him alone after that. They worked around him, chattering quietly amongst themselves, and their voices added to the ambient background noise of the room in a way Remus found soothing.

He stayed there for the rest of the free period enjoying the atmosphere before a concerned elf alerted him to the time and he realised he needed to leave for Transfiguration.

-o-o-o-o-

‘Morning, Remus,’ Sirius called when he saw him enter the classroom. ‘You can sit with us if you like.’

Remus paused at his shout. He’d been heading towards his usual solitary desk on the other side of the room, but he glanced at the corner where the three of them were sitting, shrugged and walked towards them. Sirius felt a thrill of triumph. He was finally getting somewhere.

‘You want me to sit with Pete?’ James whispered as they watched Remus attempt to navigate the classroom in his too-long robes, tripping twice along the way.

‘You don’t mind?’ Sirius said, surprised by the offer. He did want Remus to sit next to him, but he would never have asked James himself. That would have been rude.

‘Course not, I know how much you want him to like you, and I understand why.’ James got to his feet and grabbed his bag. ‘Shove over, Pete. I’m sitting with you today,’ he said, his tone cheerful.

‘Oh, you didn’t need to move, James,’ Remus said when he reached them.

‘It’s cool. I know you like being at the back with no one behind you. I don’t mind,’ James said, and then winked at Sirius when Remus turned to pull his things from his bag. Sirius grinned back.

‘Why do you have a silver plate?’ Sirius said when he saw Remus pull the item from his bag.

Remus’ face turned a pleasing shade of pink, and Sirius wondered if he could make the colour deepen.

‘I missed the lesson on reparifarge, so Professor McGonagall gave me this to practise on. Well, when she gave it to me it was a weird metallic wood and shaped like a demented frisbee.’

‘And you did it without even seeing the demonstration? That’s pretty impressive, mate. Well done,’ Sirius said.

Remus’ blush intensified and Sirius grinned.

‘Thanks, it took a while,’ Remus said.

‘Good morning, class. I hope you’re not too tired from your Astronomy lesson last night because today will be your first attempt at transfiguration.’

Cheers went up around the room at the announcement and she smiled.

‘Yes, I know. It’s very exciting.’ She waited for the class to calm down before continuing. ‘Today you will be focusing on changing an object’s material. You will each receive a matchstick, and I would like you to turn it into a needle. This task should not be too difficult if you have a sufficient understanding of the theory, and I expect all of you to have at least some effect on your matchstick by the end of the lesson. Anyone who does not will be writing me an essay.’

The students groaned, but Professor McGonagall ignored them, dropping matchsticks on the desks at the front of the room before moving on to the next row. When she reached Sirius and Remus at the back of the room, she took the silver plate and congratulated Remus on his success.

The class fell silent as the students focused on their attempts to transfigure their matchstick. No one wanted to have to write an extra essay. The peace was only broken by the occasional cry of frustration, which Professor McGonagall ignored.

‘Oh hey, you did it!’ Sirius whisper-shouted when he glanced at Remus’ side of the desk and saw his matchstick was now metallic.

‘Well, it’s not quite a needle,’ Remus said, frowning at his silver matchstick. ‘All I’ve done is make a serviceable item utterly useless.’ He picked it up and held it with the end pinched between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Can’t start a fire with it, can’t sew with it. What use is a metal matchstick?’

Sirius sniggered. ‘Well, let’s see,’ he said, taking the matchstick from Remus using the tips of his fingers so their hands wouldn’t touch. ‘It might make a great drumstick for a mouse drummer,’ he said, tapping it on the edge of the table in an upbeat rhythm. ‘You may have started a revolution in the rodent music scene.’

Remus snorted. ‘Aren’t drumsticks usually made of wood?’

‘Well, you just want to spoil all my dreams, don’t you, Remus?’ Sirius said.

James and Peter had turned around in their seats and were watching the exchange with amusement.

James snatched the matchstick from Sirius. ‘Clearly, it’s a walking stick for an elderly and disabled frog, and I must say, Remus, it was very kind of you to make it.’

‘You’re an idiot, James,’ Peter said, taking the matchstick from James, who had been tapping it across the table in imitation of a walking stick. ‘Frogs don’t walk. Why would they need a walking stick? It’s obviously the balance bar for a tight-rope walking beetle.’

‘What’s tight-rope walking?’ Sirius asked.

‘It’s a muggle performance. They walk on a single strand of rope really high in the air, and they use a metal bar to stay balanced,’ Peter told him.

‘That sounds really stupid and dangerous,’ Sirius said with interest. ‘I want to try it.’

His pronouncement caused the other three to dissolve into fits of suppressed laughter. Sirius smirked and waited for them to regain control. He liked making people laugh.

Remus was the first to stop giggling, and he sat up and wiped his eyes before he said, ‘Anyway, beetles can walk upside down on the ceiling, so they wouldn’t need a balance bar.’ He held out his hand to request his matchstick back, and Peter dropped it into his hand without touching him.

‘May I ask what you four find so amusing about today’s lesson?’ Professor McGonagall called from the front of the room.

‘Sorry, Professor,’ Sirius said. ‘Remus turned his matchstick into metal, but he was concerned that he’d made something completely useless. So, we were trying to reassure him, but all our ideas are terrible. Can you think of a use for a metal matchstick?’

The other students chuckled at Sirius’ words, and even Professor McGonagall seemed to be struggling to keep her face straight. Sirius detected a slight twitching at the corners of her mouth.

‘Congratulations, Mister Lupin, ten points to Gryffindor. Perhaps you can help your friends to achieve the same results?’ she said.

Sirius turned back to Remus and saw he was now blushing furiously. Sirius decided he liked that colour on Remus and resolved to make it happen more often.

The rest of the class passed without further incident. Sirius and James managed to make their matchsticks take on a metallic sheen, but they were still made of wood. Peter had failed to have any effect on his whatsoever and was doomed to write the extra essay.

When class ended, they hung back to let the room clear, Sirius wanted Remus to see that they were considerate of his needs without having to be asked. He was delighted that they had gotten along so well during the lesson and that Remus had seemed to enjoy his sense of humour, and he was determined to not mess up this time.

By the time they left, the corridor outside was deserted. James and Peter volunteered to grab some food from the hall, and they arranged to meet back at the dorm before dashing off, leaving Sirius and Remus alone.

Sirius cast around for something to say and, seeing the torrential rain through the water-spotted windows, settled on, ‘I’m glad we don’t have to go outside today.’

‘Me too,’ Remus said.

Well, that was a long and riveting conversation, Sirius thought. What the hell was wrong with him? He finally had Remus alone, friendly and receptive, and the only topic of conversation he could come up with was the weather?

As they entered the entrance hall, a red light shot across the room from the darkness of the dungeon stairwell and hit Remus’ bag, splitting the seam at the bottom and dumping the contents all over the floor. Sirius caught a glimpse of the unmistakable greasy black hair of his least favourite student disappearing around the corner. What the fuck was his problem?

‘Oh no,’ Remus said, dropping to the floor and scrambling to gather his things back together. Sirius crouched down to help and started stacking the books and shoving things into his own bag to help carry them back to the dorm.

Remus looked up, and Sirius caught sight of his face. His cheeks were wet with tears.

‘Hey, it’s okay. We can get the bag fixed.’

‘I just don’t understand why he keeps picking on me,’ Remus said, ‘I’ve done nothing to him.’

Sirius wanted to offer him comfort, but it was so hard when he couldn’t touch him.

‘He’s just a little prick who wants to feel big. It’s not your fault,’ he said, glaring at the stairwell where Snape had vanished. ‘Don’t worry, James and I will get him back.’

Remus sniffed. ‘Thanks.’

-o-o-o-o-

After spending the free period that morning and part of lunch with Sirius, James and Peter, Remus was calm and relaxed around them when they all arrived at Potions class. As they entered the room, the stench of ingredients and brewing potions assaulted Remus’ nose. It must have shown on his face because Sirius asked if he was okay.

‘Yeah, it’s just the smell in this room. I can’t stand it,’ he said.

Sirius sniffed. ‘It’s not that bad.’

Remus realised his mistake. The others wouldn’t be able to smell what he could. ‘I have a sensitive nose.’ he said quickly, trying to cover the slipup. ‘It’s alright, I’ll get used to it.’

‘Do you want to sit with us again?’ James asked.

‘Yeah, okay. But I don’t want you to move. I’ll sit with Peter. I don’t mind having you two behind me.’

Remus noticed that Sirius’ smile dropped for a microsecond at his words. Was he fed up with Remus’ company already, he wondered, but didn’t dwell on it. He took his seat next to Peter and set-up his cauldron on the firepit area of his desk.

While they waited for class to begin, Remus idly stared out of the window at the view under the lake. The rain hammering down on the lake’s surface had turned the water cloudy, and the particles swirling in the maelstrom were beautiful to watch.

It didn’t take long before he was interrupted by Professor Slughorn’s jovial voice announcing the beginning of the lesson.

‘Many potions begin with an infusion of a certain ingredient as the base. While it is possible to buy readymade infusions, it is far cheaper to buy or even grow the base ingredient and brew your own infusion. Today’s lesson will teach you this process. The method is on the board. You have two hours. Begin.’

Remus looked up at the board and noted that the first step was to fill the cauldron with water. Realising he would have to wait to avoid being jostled, he stayed put in his chair while Peter left to fetch water for himself. Merlin, he hated how much his condition affected his everyday life here. There were constant reminders at home too, but here it was so much more pronounced. He shouldn’t complain, though; being here at all was such a huge privilege.

‘Do you want me to pour it in for you? It’s kind of heavy,’ Sirius said, startling Remus from his thoughts. ‘The water,’ Sirius said, nodding to the jug in his hand, ‘I can pour it in for you if you like?’

‘Er, yeah. Thanks,’ Remus said, sidling out of the way so Sirius could pour the jug of water into his cauldron.

‘No problem. That’s what friends are for, right?’ Sirius said. ‘Here, James grabbed you some wormwood from the storage cabinet too.’ Sirius tossed a packet of pale green herbs onto his desk and sauntered back to his own workstation, where he leaned in close to speak to James.

Remus stared at the greenery on his desk and the water in his cauldron and fought to blink back tears. Who were these people? Eleven-year-old boys didn’t consider other people’s needs like this. Not in the books he had read or in the tv shows he had seen, which was, admittedly, his only frame of reference. It was making it so much harder not to break his resolve. They were so kind. Why couldn’t he be friends with them? But he knew why. It was too much of a risk. Getting close to them would mean they paid more attention. They would figure out his secret and reject him, or worse, report him. But Sirius did seem to be keeping his word and not prying so much. Maybe it wasn’t impossible.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he tried to concentrate on his work, but the stink in the room was getting worse as students began chopping their wormwood, and his head was swimming.

‘Woah, Remus. You’re chopping it too finely; it’ll be impossible to strain,’ Peter said.

‘Oh bugger, really?’ Remus said. He stopped cutting and stared down at his wormwood sadly. ‘Is it ruined?’

‘Not completely,’ Peter said, ‘Here, let me...’ Remus stepped out of the way, and Peter moved over and separated out the parts that were too finely chopped. ‘There, this stuff is good, just keep doing it like that.’

Remus smiled at him. ‘Thanks, Pete.’

‘That’s okay,’ Peter said, smiling back.

With Peter’s watchful eye on him, Remus managed to concoct a reasonable infusion and earned himself an A, James and Sirius both got Es and Peter was awarded an O for his perfect infusion, which Slughorn asked him to bottle so he could use it later. After packing away, they returned their things to the dorm and parted ways for dinner.

Remus was more conflicted than ever before. He wasn’t sure what to do about his dorm-mates at all. Being friends with them would make his life so much easier. They were thoughtful and considerate, seeming to anticipate when he would have difficulty and helping before he even asked, and Peter appeared to be a whizz at potions. Remus could really use his help in that class. But at the same time, spending so much time with them made it easier for them to notice things. If they found out his secret, it would all be over. He didn’t know what to do. Should he follow his heart or his head?

He reached the kitchens, ate his dinner as fast as he could, and returned to the laundry room. None of the elves had bothered him at lunch. They seemed to have accepted his presence beside the wash buckets. Looking at the five buckets, Remus decided it would look strange if he meditated by each of them in turn and could arouse suspicion. He would have to cast the spells on one of them at each mealtime. He’d be done by Saturday morning, so if he set the timing charm for a week on Monday, it would allow nine days for everything that was washed to be transfigured. That should be plenty.

He had already done the calculations, using generous estimates for the amount of students in each year, plus the teachers and an average of four outfits a week. He figured out he needed to channel his magic for fifteen minutes. He then doubled that to thirty to be safe.

Remus positioned himself next to one of the buckets in the same manner as the last two times, this time with his wand in his hand. He allowed the tip to rest against the rim of the bucket and closed his eyes, focusing on his magical core. It was easy to locate now that he’d practised so much, and he was soon whispering the words of the combined incantations. He stayed there for the full thirty minutes and was exhausted by the time he was finished.

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius took a seat in the Great Hall across from James and Peter and glanced up at the ceiling. James followed his gaze.

‘Doesn’t look so pretty when the weather’s bad, does it?’ James said.

‘I don’t know, I kind of like it,’ Sirius said. ‘It’s all dark and moody.’

Peter was too busy loading his plate to take any notice of their conversation. Sirius looked around. The hall was busy but not full, and there wasn’t anyone sitting in their immediate vicinity.

‘Guys, I need to talk to you about something,’ he said, leaning forward across the table. ‘It’s about Remus and Snivellus.’

‘What about Snivellus? What did he do now?’ James growled.

‘He split Remus’ bag with a severing charm.’ He hesitated before continuing in a lower voice. ‘It made Remus cry.’

‘We have to do something,’ Peter said, scowling.

‘Oh, we will,’ James said, turning his head to glare at Snape across the hall.

‘What are you thinking?’ Sirius asked.

James’ eyes were gleaming with mischief when he turned back. ‘Well, we still have that frogspawn soap for one, but I don’t think that’s quite good enough for the evil little git. I do have one idea, though. It’s something I did to my dad once during a joke contest.’

‘Wait,’ Sirius said, holding up a hand. ‘You have joke contests with your dad?’

‘All the time,’ James said, laughing. ‘Mum hates it. Anyway, this one time, I put stinksap in his shower potion. Not enough that you could smell it in the bottle, just enough so that anyone who washed with it would smell faintly of shit until they washed it off with something else.’ James was laughing hard now, obviously enjoying the memory. During the brief respite between fits of laughter, he managed to get the rest of the story out.

‘He couldn’t... couldn’t work out... work out where the smell... the smell was coming from.’ James took a deep steadying breath and blurted the rest out in one go before dissolving into fits of giggles again.

‘He smelt like shit for WEEKS!’

Sirius took a moment to consider this idea, imagining Snape going around smelling like a dung heap and not being able to figure out why. And washing more would only make it worse. Seconds later, all three of the boys had their heads on the table, shaking with laughter and holding their sides from the pain.

Eventually, they got themselves under control and sat up straight again. Sirius wiped away a tear and said, ‘It’s perfect, James, utterly perfect.’

They hurried through the rest of their meal and held a rapid planning session in a nearby hidden passage, during which Peter pulled his herbology textbook out to search up the best way to extract stinksap from a Mimbulus Mimbletonia, and Sirius volunteered to be the one who snuck into greenhouse three and did the extracting.

An hour before curfew, they were outside greenhouse three with the invisibility cloak, a potion vial, a pair of ultra-thick dragon-hide gloves, and an old quill.

‘Now remember, you have to tickle the largest boil, and the stinksap will be released from the smallest one,’ Peter said.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Sirius said. ‘Give me the cloak, James.’

James handed him the invisibility cloak, and Sirius wrapped it around his shoulders, leaving his head uncovered before taking the gloves and putting them on, tucking the ends of his robes inside and tightening them securely. He had no desire to get that shit on his skin.

He took the quill and potion vial, nodded to James and Peter, and pulled the hood over his head. Creeping along so as not to make any sound, Sirius approached greenhouse three and turned the door handle. He glanced back over his shoulder once before pushing the door open slowly and tip-toeing inside.

The greenhouse was blessedly empty, and Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. He closed the door behind him so he’d be alerted if anyone arrived while he was working and then looked around. The glass room was filled with far more interesting plants than they were working on in greenhouse one. He shook himself. That wasn’t why he was here.

Spotting the Mimbulus Mimbletonia in the middle of a collection of magical cacti, Sirius hurried over and inspected it. The largest boil was definitely the big fat one on the side, but the smallest was a close tie between the one on the very top and another just below the fattest. It was impossible to guess. There was no other choice. He would have to pick one and hope he was holding the vial in the right place.

Sirius chose to cover the one on the top, on the basis that having stinksap spurt straight up would be disastrous for his hair, whereas if it came out the side he could just keep out of the way. Decision made, he positioned himself on the other side of the plant from the boil he wasn’t going to cover and held the vial over the boil on the top, before tickling the largest bulge with his quill.

It was an awkward dance, but he managed, and luck was on his side. The thick, green goo spurted out of the top boil and into his vial, which he tilted back to keep the viscous liquid inside. He stoppered the vial and put it in his pocket before hurrying back to the door.

Peeking through the glass of the door, he saw James and Peter talking to Professor Sprout. They’d positioned themselves so the professor had her back to the greenhouse, so Sirius pushed the door open as quietly as possible and tip-toed out before closing it behind him. His heart was hammering in his chest and his breathing sounded loud in the quiet evening.

‘If that’s everything, boys, you two should get back to the school. Curfew’s in half an hour,’ Professor Sprout was saying to James and Peter. They nodded and James glanced in Sirius’ general direction, though his aim was a little off. Sirius slipped a hand out from under the cloak and waved.

‘Of course, Professor. Thank you for your help, I understand much better now,’ James said.

‘You’re welcome. I expect an Outstanding essay on my desk on Friday.’

Professor Sprout turned and strolled in Sirius’s direction, but he sidestepped out of the way and joined his friends who were walking slowly in the direction of the castle.

‘Leaving without me?’ he said, making them jump.

‘Did you get it?’ James asked.

‘I’m pleased to report the mission was a complete success,’ Sirius said, pulling off the cloak, and handing it to James.

‘Bloody good job too. We had to listen to a ten-minute lecture on shrivelfigs to keep Sprout out of the greenhouse.’

‘Your sacrifice was not in vain, my friend,’ Sirius’ said, putting his arm around James’ shoulders.

‘Excellent,’ James said. ‘We better get back under the cloak, though. We still need to find out the Slytherin password.’

They didn’t expect it to be difficult, considering they already knew where the entrance was and they had an invisibility cloak. Needless to say, they were correct in their assumption. It had barely been ten minutes when a careless first-year approached the blank stretch of wall and announced in a loud, clear voice, ‘Salamander eggs.’

The boys smirked at each other under the cover of the cloak and crept away. Mission accomplished.

Several hours later, they were preparing to leave for their midnight excursion, and this time Remus was awake to see them off. They’d explained their plan to him, and he had thought it a little harsh at first, but they’d talked him around.

‘I wish I could come,’ Remus said, as he watched them prepare from his seat on the bed.

‘You could try,’ James said. ‘I mean, you like us don’t you? It might be okay touching people you like.’

‘No!’ Remus gasped, seeming horrified by the idea.

Sirius slapped James round the back of the head. ‘Idiot,’ he said. ‘If he can’t touch his own parents, he’s not going to be able to touch us. He barely knows us.’

‘Right. Sorry, Remus,’ James said. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I just didn’t want you to be left out.’

‘It’s okay. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. I doubt I’ll ever be able to touch you.’

‘Yeah, we understand, mate. It’s cool. We’ll tell you everything when we get back,’ Sirius said.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside the Slytherin common room under the cloak. Their own common room had been empty when they passed through it, and they hoped the same would be true for the Slytherin’s. Everyone should be asleep. It wouldn’t mean instant capture if people were still awake, they were invisible after all, but it would make their task more difficult.

‘Salamander eggs,’ Sirius whispered, and the wall in front of them vanished, revealing a short passageway. They crept in and down the corridor lined with portraits of famous Slytherins, most of whom were ugly.

The Slytherin common room was fancier than Gryffindor’s, but not as inviting in Sirius’ opinion. It had the same rough stone walls covered with tapestries, and the same general layout of chairs, tables and sofas, with a roaring fire in the fireplace, but that was where the similarities ended. While everything in Gryffindor tower was red and gold, warm and comforting, everything here was green and silver. The upholstery, the carpets, even the light had a green tint. The colour gave the room a sickly, cold atmosphere. Even though the furniture was top quality and the room was pristine, Sirius thought if he had to spend his free time here, he’d go mad.

It was, much to their relief, empty of all life, and they hurried towards the stairwells at the back of the room which led down, not up like Gryffindor’s.

‘Which one do you think is the boys’?’ James whispered.

Sirius shrugged. ‘On the right, like ours?’

‘I don’t have any better ideas,’ James said, before starting forward down the right-hand staircase.

It was difficult to navigate the narrow staircase, crammed together as they were under the cloak, but they managed it without falling and breaking their necks. The first door they came to listed two names, neither of which were Snape, but they were male.

‘They only have two people to a room?’ Sirius asked with a frown.

‘Seems a bit unfair,’ Peter said.

‘Yeah, but I like our way better,’ James said, smiling at them.

‘Yeah, me too,’ Sirius said. ‘Slytherins don’t understand friendship.’

They continued down the stairs until they found Snape’s room; he was sharing with someone called Adrian Blishwick. Poor Adrian was not going to enjoy sharing this room for a while. After listening at the door for a minute to make sure they were asleep and hearing no sound from inside, they pushed it open gently.

The moment the door was unlatched, the sound of snoring leaked out from inside. Of course, the room was silenced. That could have been disastrous if the occupants were awake. Thankfully, they were both sound asleep. The boys tip-toed over to the only other door in the room and entered the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind them.

There were two cubicles inside, each with their own set of toiletries, and a single bath behind a screen at one end of the room.

‘Hey, we don’t get baths!’ Peter said.

‘Totally unfair,’ James said.

Sirius nodded in agreement and then glanced at the shower cubicles. ‘Which do you think is Snape’s?’

‘Whichever one doesn’t have shampoo?’ Peter suggested. Sirius and James both snorted and shushed each other. Sirius inspected both cubicles.

‘I reckon it’s this one. Everything looks old and tatty, and these toiletries are cheap. The other one’s got expensive things.’

James got to work adding the stinksap to the bottle and shaking it to mix it in before putting it back exactly as he found it. Snape wouldn’t suspect a thing. The boys crept out and up the stairs before hurrying across the common room and through the door.

They returned to their own dorm without any problems, and Remus was dozing but woke up when they entered. So they told him everything that happened, and he grinned and thanked them. Sirius found it hard to get to sleep that night. He had finally found a way to pay his debt to Remus, and the joy he felt kept him awake for a long time.

Chapter 13

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #remus x sirius

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juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years

Text

There Are Worse Things I Could Do, Chapter 9/10

Summary: Dark comes to collect Yancy from jail and let him know of his punishment. Yancy is equal parts scared of Dark and eager to finally, finally go home. Warnings: None Characters: Yancy, Darkiplier

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

It’s late the next morning when Yancy senses that something’s off.

For one thing, the lights start to flicker slightly. For another, the security cameras in the corners of the walls spark and die. Most tellingly, though, a tendril of inky smoke winds down the hallway, slips between the bars of Yancy’s cell, and coils around his arm.

“Dark,” he gasps.

Sure enough, a moment later, the man himself appears before Yancy, hands clasped behind his back, sharp gaze staring Yancy down through his cell.

He does not look happy.

“C’mon, say something! Make it good, you haven’t seen him in days! Some sort of justification, or apology, or anything, just don’t leave him hanging!”

“U-Um,” Yancy stammers, “Uh…good morning, sir?”

“Really?”

“Don’t be like that! I’ve been through a lot lately, what did you expect me to say??”

The cell door slams open with a metallic screech as Dark’s aura tears it open. Yancy yelps at the volume, but Dark doesn’t react. He only jerks his head towards the station’s exit.

“Come.” His voice is deep, echoing, colder than ice. His form shivers with suppressed rage.

Yancy scrambles to his feet and scuttles after Dark.

He wonders briefly why Dark isn’t just teleporting them. He broke the cameras, didn’t he? Walking through the station, Yancy sees unconscious officers and sparking computers. The place is utterly silent aside from the electrical pops and Dark and Yancy’s footsteps. Maybe Dark’s making them walk to intimidate Yancy. It’s certainly working: It’s a walk of shame on par with the road to solitary Yancy remembers from Happy Trails. It’s a similar dread, a similar fear of saying the wrong thing or making the wrong move. He’s still reeling from the night before, still exhausted yet too hyped up to think about sleep.

And he suspects his very long day is far from over.

This is confirmed when Dark opens the door to exit the station, and instead of seeing the street outside, the open door leads to nothing but blackness, thick like a wall.

Oh, fuck.

Yancy has no choice but to follow Dark into the void, head down, trudging sadly, nervously.

They don’t walk very long, but it’s long enough for Yancy to get uncomfortable in the darkness. His own footsteps don’t make any noise, but he can hear whispers around him, unintelligible and barely there. He knows he’s sweating, skin chilled. He strains to see Dark ahead of him in the blackness. When he hazards a glance over his shoulder, he can’t see the station’s lobby anymore. He shudders, tries his best to keep his cool, but he’s being reminded more and more of solitary every second: The darkness in that windowless room, the cold permeating every corner, the way sounds echo and just barely filter in from outside, not enough to listen to, but enough to remind Yancy of what’s he’s missing. This place, this void, is far too familiar. Dark’s back ahead of him is too similar to Warden Murderslaughter, he has the same confidence that Yancy will not dawdle or run away. But Murderslaughter at least pretended to care about Yancy most of the time. Dark has no such reservations. Yancy almost whimpers, but keeps himself quiet.

Finally, Dark stops. Yancy stops just after, too focused on Dark and on behaving well to accidentally keep walking (a mistake he’s made before). Dark turns to him and glares down at him. Yancy wonders how he looks to him; red-rimmed and purple-smudged eyes, rumpled and stained clothes that don’t belong to him, a bandaged gash up his arm, shaking with fear and hurt. It’s not enough to move Dark, though; his gaze is still sharp, still cold, unyielding and unwavering.

“Do you understand,” Dark begins slowly, form already cracking with rage, “Exactly how much trouble you’re in?”

“U-um,” Yancy stammers. He knows that what he thinks the answer is doesn’t matter; it’s only what he’s expected to say. “No, s-sir.”

“I thought not.” Dark steps forward, closer. Yancy resists the urge to step back, away. “You left Ego Inc. without informing anyone, with the intent to stay away forever, or as long as you could manage.” His form snaps. “You got yourself arrested, put into the system, putting every single one of us at risk. Do you understand why we are meant to live in Ego Inc.? Do you understand what could happen to us, to Mark and his channel, if we were exposed? If your recklessness brought trouble to the rest of us?” There’s three Darks now, transparent technicolor shadows of himself on either side.

“Y-Yes, sir,” Yancy whispers, unable to be louder.

“You understand, I’m sure, that you have to be punished,” Dark continues. He’s never reminded Yancy so much of Warden Murderslaughter before.

“Yes, sir,” Yancy mumbles, trying to meet Dark’s eyes but finding it very difficult. They’re flashing pure black every few moments.

A pause. Dark lets Yancy absorb the situation.

“Do you know,” he asks, “How long you’ve been away from Ego Inc.?”

It’s another question that Dark doesn’t expect a good answer from. Yancy tries to give him the correct response.

“A while, sir.” He nervously shifts his feet. “Dunno how long exactly.”

“Eighteen days, Yancy,” Dark growls, shell cracking around him with anger. Yancy winces; he must’ve responded wrong, and now he’ll pay for it. “Eighteen days, you’ve had us running ragged through the city searching for you. At any time you could have and should have returned, but you did not. You actively evaded us, didn’t you? We would have found you otherwise.”

“I did, sir,” Yancy admits, bowing his head.

“I’ve not had to punish an ego for running away in a very long time,” Dark muses, “The others, old and new, know better than to break the rule of living in Ego Inc. If I had my way, your punishment would suit that crime.”

Yancy shivers, forces himself to look at Dark again. The talk of punishing Yancy has calmed Dark’s aura, and his form does not waver when he next speaks.

“You vanished for eighteen days, and my plan, my desire was to keep you here in the void for eighteen days as well.”

Yancy’s eyes go huge. His breath catches in his throat. Only for the gravest offenses would he be thrown in solitary for longer than two weeks, and even that was horrible enough. Two weeks in a small room with no windows was a horrible but effective way to go mad, and the place Yancy’s in now, this awful dark void, seems much the same. Hell, maybe it’s worse. At least solitary had a wall to count cracks in, at least solitary didn’t have demonic whispers filtering in from everywhere. And after so long of being away from Ego Inc., being away from his friends, being away from Lio, as sad as the thought of him makes him, to finding out that instead of going home, he’s only halfway done with his separation?

This is hell. This is hell.

“Please,” Yancy gasps. He falls to his knees, groveling. “Please, please, don’t keep me here, d-don’t lock me away, I’ll do b-better, I w-won’t mess up again, I p-promise, I promise, please d-don’t keep me here, please, p-please–!”

But Dark is not Warden Murderslaughter. Even from the ground, Yancy can hear Dark’s snarl, vastly different from the smug, approving hum Murderslaughter would be making at Yancy’s display.

“Get up,” Dark growls, form snapping in pieces and recombining. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

Yancy scrambles to his feet. His vision is blurry with tears, but he doesn’t dare wipe them away.

“As I said, my desire was to keep you here for eighteen days,” Dark sighs, “But that is not what I’ll be doing.” His lip curls as he looks at Yancy. “You are very fortunate that you are so close to Yandere. He implored for me to change your punishment on your behalf, so I have come up with something different.” His aura calms. “The Googles are in the process of designing a tracking chip, able to transmit a single out to a thirty-mile radius. While the chip is being developed, you are forbidden from leaving the building for any reason, no matter who offers to accompany you. When it’s finished, it will be implanted into your arm. Google, and by extension I, will always know where you are. If you attempt to run again, we will know.” Dark leans toward Yancy, composed but stony, quietly angry. “Make no mistake, you will not get away so easily next time. The only reason you are not staying in the void is because of Yandere. I can promise you that if this happens again, nothing he says will stop me from punishing you far, far worse than what I originally planned. Understood?”

Yancy is stunned for a moment. A tracker in his skin? Projecting his location at all times? It’s a daunting thought, but…not as daunting as spending two and a half weeks in Dark’s void. After the disastrous time he had, Yancy can’t imagine running again. In a way, it’s a lot like Happy Trails, to have such a restriction on himself. Yancy can’t help but find it a little comforting. All of that aside, it’s not like Dark is giving him a choice in the matter.

“Yes, sir,” Yancy says, voice hardly a breath.

Dark scrutinizes him for a long moment, and then nods, seemingly satisfied.

“Good.” He straightens. “Now, we’re going home. The others are waiting.”

“The others?”

“Yandere must’ve told everyone you called.”

Oh, to see Yandere again, to see Mags, to see Chrome and Bim and Bop and Wilford and even Lio after so long! Yancy’s heart is fit to burst. The tears from his earlier panic have dried, but they’re being replaced anew at the thought of seeing his friends again.

Dark doesn’t give much time to think about it; in only a moment, the pair appear in front of Ego Inc., with no trace of the void around. Yancy jumps at the sudden transportation. Dark, though, is unfazed, and merely opens the doors and walks inside. Before following, Yancy can’t help but look back, back at the streets he lived among for the past eighteen days. He won’t miss them much.

Most of the egos are gathered in the lobby. The moment Dark enters, a voice speaks up.

“Yami, did you find–”

Yandere’s voice cuts off as he spots Yancy, and Yancy looks back at him, back at everyone there. It’s obvious they’ve all been worried, all been searching, and they’re all wearing expressions of shock quickly warming into joy.

Magnum is the first to act. He approaches Yancy as fast as his giant wood legs will let him, laughing heartily. He scoops Yancy up in a huge, warm hug, squeezing a burst of laughter from Yancy’s chest.

“Yancy, I missed ye!” Magnum explains, “We all did, of course, but I sure was hurtin’ without ya, lad.”

“I missed youse, too, ya big lug,” Yancy replies, unable to help smiling, teary-eyed.

That seems to break the spell the others are under, and they gather around Yancy as Magnum puts him down. Yandere pushes up close, so happy to see him he almost picks him up, too. The others surround him as close as they’re able, full of questions, full of concern, yet full of exuberant joy. Yancy can hardly keep up with them all. Dark remains apart, watching from the door, but Yancy barely registers. He does, however, notice one other conspicuous absence. He looks up, over the shoulders of everyone around him, and sees Lio hanging back, leaning against the wall, deliberately casual in a way that betrays how un-casual he feels. Lio feels Yancy’s gaze on him, and lifts his head to look at him.

And oh, Yancy had hoped that Lio wouldn’t look so good when he came back, that his memory had inflated Lio’s importance, that he wouldn’t look the same in the flesh. But he’s still so beautiful, even with uneven stubble that used to be cleanshaven, even with tired, red-rimmed eyes that used to be clear. But they’re still so bright, still that same brown like dark leather, and his pretty face breaks into a smile like he’s been blind his whole life before now, and Yancy is the sun, so perfect and incredible that Lio might cry at the sight. Lio doesn’t approach, seems too nervous to, but he mouths something to Yancy from across the way.

I’m glad you’re back.

Yancy feels the tears in his eyes start to spill over. After everything, he still isn’t ready for Lio to see him cry. So he buries his face in Yandere’s shoulder to hide his tears from the man he still loves.

#yancy #markiplier fanfiction #darkiplier #markiplier #fanfic #my writing #kristin says stuff #worse things #;;;w;;;

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lovelytonys · 5 years

Text

100 great things about megamind

basically i just watched megamind and wrote down everything that made me go “hey that’s good”

1. The opening monologue slaps I literally do not care about your “cliches” it’s GOOD

2. “8 days old and still living with my parents...pathetic right?”

3. The idea that Megamind is inherently good since his origin story should have been his dad saying he’s destined for “greatness” but the greatness got cut off uwu

4. Literally just the fact that Megamind was about to go to the Rich Nice House and his destiny changed at the last second,,,everything about this movie makes it a cinematic masterpiece

5. “A baby! How thoughtful!” “yes yes I saw it and thought of you”

6. “While they were learning the itsy bitsy spider I was learning how to dehydrate objects and rehydrate them at will”

7. When you hear the Bad to the Bone guitar riff kick in,,,,,,heck yeah babey!!

8. J.K Simmons is here! yeah!

9. Will Ferrell’s voice acting is literally SO darn good like even just from the beginning,,, the funny affectation of whatever kind of accent that is,,,,,the expressiveness of literally everything he says,,,,,I’m not actively a fan of Will Ferrell or anything but he just did a good job ok

10. “His heart is an ocean inside a bigger ocean”

11. Idk why but I just love the phrase “you fantastic fish you”

12. Metro Man is such a fun character. Like. A hero who shouldn’t be a hero, but he just….is one? Someone who’s idol-worshipped and, despite his grandeur, doesn’t exactly deserve it?

13. MEGAMIND’S CHARACTER DESIGN IS LITERALLY SO GOOD like the vivid colors of his skin and eyes? His COSTUME? His hilarious proportions, between the giant head and the skinny & scrawny everything else? Superb, you funky little alien

14. All dialogue between Megamind and Minion is god tier by default

15. The twist on “damsel in distress” where yeah the girl gets kidnapped but she is so not distressed and has the intellectual power in the situation as she roasts Megamind at every turn and he can’t combat anything she says

16. “Oh potato tomato potato tomato”

17. “I’m shaking in my BABY SEAL LEATHER BOOTS”

18. THE ENTIRE EXCHANGE BETWEEN MEGAMIND AND METRO MAN ABOUT JUSTICE AND REVENGE AND THE MICROWAVE OF EVIL AND WARRANTIES

19. “Can someone stamp my frequent kidnapping card” “You of all people know that we discontinued that”

20. The way this movie manages to SO effectively establish character while diving right into the action and keeping with a fun, fast pace? The world & characters are set up incredibly well AND the start of the journey/ “break into the new world” hits at a brisk 20 minutes? Lovely work, Dreamworks

21. When Highway to Hell kicks in with the lasers and Megamind dancing at the police,,,,,this is nothing short of priceless

22. “Imagine the most horrible terrifying evil thing you could possibly think of and multiply it…..BY SIX”

23. When you’re a supervillain who takes over the city and you say “let’s just have fun with this” to the citizens

24. *whispering behind the door* “now slam the door really hard!” *snickering like a 12 year old girl* “move they can still see you”

25. “Did you think this day would come?” “No, no not in a million years, not ever...I mean yes”

26. “That’s called a window, sir. All the kids are looking through them”

27. Crazy Train is SUCH a nice touch, the fade into Alone Again Naturally is great. The use of music in this movie is absolutely A+, MEGAMIND DID IT FIRST AND GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY AIN’T SPECIAL (jk gotg you’re so special ily)

28. The images of Megamind’s destruction & deterioration of the city are so creative and funny

29. *to a desk toy bird* “What’s your vacuum like?”

30. “GOING OFF THE RAILS ON A CRAZY TRAIN SIR”

31. Haven’t yet mentioned how lovely the animation of Megamind’s face is! Every single frame, he’s so expressive

32. Mispronunciation of words like “school”, “Metro City”, and “melancholy”

33. This voice cast in general is so good like it’s not just big names phoning it in for an animated movie, they’re fully into it

34. Real Bernard doesn’t get much screen time but he’s hilarious

35. “Typhoon Cheese”, whatever that was gonna be

36. The juxtaposition in body language & facial expression between Real Bernard and Megamind Bernard,,,,,actually just the way Megamind’s physicality is transferred to the other characters he disguises himself as. Great stuff

37. Megamind’s off-the-walls high energy is so fun and electric

38. “This is a bad idea” “yes, a good idea for the greater good of bad” “maybe it seems good from your bad perception but from a good perception it’s just plain bad” “oh you don’t know what’s good for bad”

39. Ollo? Oh, hello

40. “I’m just yelling at my…..mother’s urn”

41. Megamind and Minion just saying “code” before things that aren’t in code. This movie is so good with its running gags, they don’t feel like “oh haha they used that joke again!” they feel like inside jokes between the characters I love it

42. Megamind fighting himself as Bernard while complimenting himself, COMEDY GOLD

43. The various occurrences of random life-altering things happening on a whim to the wrong people, like Hal getting the superpowers and earlier Metro Man being molded into a hero and Megamind landing in prison as a baby

44. The forget me stick

45. Space Dad and Space Stepmom

46. Every character Megamind inhabits always retains Megamind’s eyes

47. MR BLUE SKY PLAYING OVER HAL’S DISASTROUS TRAINING SEQUENCE AND THE FALLING IN LOVE SEQUENCE THAT INCLUDES DONKEY KONG AND MEGAMIND WEIRDLY TEXTING ON A FLIP PHONE (gotgv2 who? Don’t know her)

48. Roxanne’s positive influence making Megamind genuinely want to make the city better uwu

49. ROXANNE AND METRO MAN WERE NEVER A COUPLE! Lovely trope subversion

50. Tropes in this movie in general are so fun. This isn’t some uninspired genre parody. They don’t just subvert tropes in the exact way that you’d expect. I feel like the way that this movie plays with the superhero genre often feels unique and creative

51. Bernard’s character design kind of slaps tbh. The turtleneck, the hair, the glasses, all very nice

52. When Hal calls Roxanne “a really good looking one I’ve got my eye on” like she’s meat or something as opposed to Megamind valuing her personality…..makes ya think u know

53. T h e b l a c k m a m b a a a a a

54. “Maybe I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore!” and Megamind & Minion’s subsequent falling out that served as a precursor to the disastrous date with Roxanne- it happens pretty much exactly halfway through the movie. Some people look down upon following structure to a T, but sometimes it’s satisfying when a movie perfectly follows structure and this movie’s structure is flawless

55. “Good luck on your date” “I will” “That doesn’t even make any sense” “I know”

56. Right after fighting w Minion when Megamind looks in a cracked mirror and frowns at his reflection but then changes into someone else, into Bernard, and then smiles? THE CINNAMON TOGROPHY, THE STORYTELLING

57. When Hal is just an incel whose feeling of entitlement is framed as disgusting and he’s not supposed to be sympathetic and Roxanne’s rejection of him is not framed as evil but rather completely justified? VERY epic of them, this movie would have SMASHED the pop culture scene if it came out today

58. The GRAVITY of the part when Roxanne accidentally reveals Megamind in the restaurant is so powerful that I can STILL barely watch it even though I’ve seen it so many times

59. The part that immediately follows where Roxanne shuts down Megamind is SO well done. Roxanne is giving out some harsh words to our dear protagonist, but she is not framed as the bad guy. The great thing about this scene is that they let Roxanne call out Megamind on how he’s been a jerk and she gets to be RIGHT. How very cash money of them! The emotion here isn’t anger at Roxanne because she’s ~being mean~ to Megamind. It’s a sting over the fact that she’s right, and the heartbreak over the dramatic irony of us knowing that Megamind is becoming a better person and Roxanne having no idea. Now Megamind is left with a decision that will show who he truly is on the inside: he could either retreat back into safe, evil ways for the rest of time because it’s easier to be bad because then no one expects anything from him and rejection is easier to handle, or he could ultimately choose to grow from this and recognize how he was wrong and how he has to change. The execution of this midpoint is exemplary.

60. “Do you really think I’d ever be with you?” “....no” the delivery of those lines is so good

61. “You were right! I was….less right!”

62. The Black Mamba is a god tier costume and the fact that it has its own theme song in the score makes it at least 6x better

63. WHEN BACK IN BLACK KICKS IN YEAAAHHHH (Iron Man who? Don’t know her) (Iron Man was already out at this point but how fun is it that this movie used TWO iconic mcu songs)

64. Megamind in the giant suit playing with cars

65. Hal SUCKS I love how much the movie wants you to hate him

66. The difference between Megamind and Hal/Titan/Tighten is so interesting to watch. How Megamind is the self-proclaimed “bad guy” but he’s not even out to do serious damage & it’s just a game to him, while Hal is out for blood but was created to be a hero

67. “Now it’s time for witty banter” “AAAAAAAAA” “I’m not really sure where to go with that”

68. “I’M CALLING A TIME OUT”

69. Twisting the Kryptonite trope by having Metro Man make up the copper weakness

70. “Does he have a hideout? A cave? A solitary fortress?” lol I understood that reference

71. “OW! MY GIANT BLUE HEAD!”

72. Metro Man’s confession scene is so good. Really, how often do you get a hero who feels that he was forced into being a hero? That’s usually a villain trope. Does the hero ever realize he doesn’t want to be a hero….and actually quit FOR GOOD? Again, the trope subversion is awesome

73. “I have eyes that can see right through leaaaaaaaad” that’s my favorite song

74. “You left the city to HIM! No offense” “no I’m with you”

75. “There’s a yin for every yang. If there’s bad, good will rise up against it.”

76. “I say we just go all GANGSTA on him” ms tina fey i would die for you

77. Megamind turns himself in to the police, the fact that he willingly submits himself to the punishment of being a villain at this point is a lovely and stirring way of showing the sense of justice he has deep down and showing his character development

78. When Roxanne gives Megamind a desperate & compassionate pep talk over live tv no matter what it means for her reputation :*))

79. When Megamind has 88 life sentences

80. “I. Am. Sorry!” *dramatically slides down door*

81. Megamind’s heartfelt and regretful admission of all his mistakes that brings his character arc to a head? Lovely

82. “Good luck” “WE’RE GONNA D I E! Hahahaha!”

83. “There is no Easter bunny, there is no tooth fairy, and there is no queen of England.”

84. MEGAMIND’S EPIC ENTRANCE BY COMING OUT OF HIS OWN MOUTH

85. “Oh you’re a villain alright. Just not a super one.” “Oh yeah? What’s the difference?”

86. P R E S E N T A T I O N

87. METRO MAN THUNDER CALVES

88. Again with the green eyes continuity! Love that!

89. “Going somewhere? Besides jail?” *flies in a fancy pose*

90. When Megamind is ready to let everyone think Metro Man is back but Roxanne wants to see the real hero :*))

91. “This is the last time you make a fool out of me!” “I made you a hero, you did the fool thing all by yourself” SICK BURN

92. “There’s a benefit to losing. You get to learn from your mistakes”

93. WHEN THE DEHYDRATION GUN COMES IN CLUTCH

94. Minion being a drama queen lol comedy peaked in 2010

95. Minion’s Little Face

96. “GET BACK YOU SAVAGES” “Sorry he’s just not used to positive feedback!”

97. “Destiny is not the path given to us but the path we choose for ourselves”

98. When Megamind gets to parallel Metro Man’s entrance from the beginning of the movie and everyone cheers for him :*)) and he adds his own fun little twist by making a villain joke

99. “Megamind, defender of Metro City” “you know? I like the sound of that!”

100. Name a better villain to hero story. YOU CANNOT. Cinematic excellence. I am never disappointed.

#I DO NOT DESERVE RIGHTS #lovelytonys personal thought

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captainkurosolaire · 5 years

Text

Royal Roast

A regal touch captivated notes on a strung sharp violin as it played a classical melody throughout a Noble Estate held in Ishgard, each solitary note was played with impeccable accuracy a single beat wasn’t missed or left unjustified as the pace picked up and raced, it was majestically powerful the type that entranced scholars of the craft that split the conveyed emotions of man in control.

Though shortly it paused out of turn for only one, individual could prevent him from playing phenomenally, only one cretin could ruin his excellence rhythm. A being he reluctant on calling a Rival, but he held no other equal to counter-measure him. None were as stubborn to the task or drew out eye-roll inducing entertainment, not quite like the polar opposite face of the coin as him. He was everything the Noble hated, and this was the same for the Pirate as well, each of them brilliantly brought out simultaneously the worst and best out of one another. “It ceases to amaze me how you find ways-in pirate, I thought I held all the bases covered but still you exploit craftiness, why do you burden me?” The pure white-outfitted and cleanly tailored individual orderly set his instrument down and took over a stare, wishing to draw out the reason for the interruption. Studded boots landed behind and a flashing amber-hue in spectacle began looking over all the valuables and gave out a soundly loud whistle carrying a colored impressiveness. “Ahoy, mate. I came because I could use some help thought might interest you, something in relation with the Void, seems down your alley way and fits the hocus-pocus magic thing that I don’t really excel in. Kind of a bad dilemma, take it you got no clue on how to break a high-powered possession? As for how, I got in... Well, let’s just say you’ve got some quality maids who don’t get enough pay or pleasure in this overworked and clocked-place.” He swung around in his fingertips a chained key no doubt taken out of seduction.

The Keeper intelligently ignored the mention of the Void or his skills that far exceeded what was asked for his skills to assist in, this was a common theme that ran so he had little meaning to humor acceptance towards the pleader. "My aid, huh? Why should you require such? How about going to employ some pretenders at that atrocious hub called, what was it again? Quicksands, ah yes memory regains me. Perhaps you'll find a savior of Eorzea or better yet a Deity randomly leisuring in the cesspool for whatever minuscule reasoning they hold, I often hear several laughable claims each adventurer speaking foul of the fool. Then again, that explains your crew in sum..." A breathless Elezen who was recently informed of a spotted intrusion came running to his sire’s presence. Sir. Nathaelon rushed and gave an apologetic bow about to speak but the Lord gave a hand up to hold his breathe for how it was possible he snuck through, instead opting to play in the amusement of this known intruder.

The retorting turned Pirate Captain of the Seas now took his turn at the verbal showdown, "Correct me if I'm wrong matey, but... I do believe, I- my crew saved yer royal ass. Leviathan, we practically cleaned up your mess that would have never happened if you didn't thirst for power and simply called for help sooner. Instead you took the easy path, you went to murder all the competition and bark to orders, fitting seeing how, one thing you've always been is a spoiled bitc-."

"RE-FRAME FROM TONGUE, SWINE!" The highly esteemed Butler of Knighthood shouted in lit anger and drew forward.

"How about you shut yer, fluff-girl up would you so kindly fer me yer, Grace?" Turning a tilted head over directly with a verbal burn to the crowned retainer Nathaelon who was mere-moments close to drawing a blade in protection of his Excellency a snap blood-vessel popped for a devotee could not simply stand for heresy.

Responding in the first act to halt an unsavory act by allowing a sudden unrelenting cold to take in room to deliver silence to his underling as his faith was blinding and unwarranted. Shiro held a handle over the situation. Turning back to face the Captain directly, "You don't get it, every-time anything happens, YOU! Are the factor. You're a walking death bomb waiting to explode, I pity any of those who sail under your flag. We should go back through the list and see how many of your crew-mates are now seafood. How many turned their own coats and caused battles that didn't need to happen? I joined forces with your band and they destroyed our means of evidence. During the War of the Depths, your leading-engineer was in battle with one of your own... I played my part with perfection."

Searching back and drawing back his own quip, "Eh? I don't remember that cause if I recall... It was I, who picked and hauled your depleted carcass from being among tides, aye... ~ See, problem, ye got mate. Is that you've allowed the Ishgardian and prancy-fancy lifestyle mold you into a ABSOLUTE, prick. Constantly you thrive to prove to others to be an 'Elite' and you’re among this artificial ranking, Seven Hells, last I checked you had no fancy Knight accolades in yer reservoir. Rumor around is ye flunked out of the academy!”

Talking slow and methodically his jawbones clenching up drawing in aggravation... "Listen here... Mongrel, I have no reason to explain my origins to you... Though let's unravel the point, you want my assistance. Well, let's play by the ol' pirate way. A parley... Except, you don't fight me the Cap'n, you'll fight..." His white gloved hand's would drift over pointing to the fuming Sir Nathaelon brooding between the two bitter rivals from the previous scoundrel's comment. "Beat him and you got it, I wouldn't want to make a mockery over you on such a dire request of time, not before our showdown already scheduled at the Budokai Tournament, though if you bite the dust or can't beat Nathaelon, well then you're a useless combatant for me."

Radiation of the prospect fueled the pirate and let out a joyous smirk as competition was never to be underappreciated it was a finer relish enjoyment, aside ~ From a woman strapped closely between heated flesh at bedside."Hope you can handle bigger packages lad, cause I'm a put yer Lord to shame when comes to fluffing me up... Whole-lot of man." Sizing up the suited Elezen who glowered in a fused of anger back down at the ruffian who held an ever sense of boldness, his taunt succeeding already in setting up nerves. A trick that swashbucklers attempted to win a fight before it even begun. Doesn’t take a whole lot to rile up a royal stuck-up who were fed special snowflakes as cereal .

"Then starting at dawn's new rise, we'll conclude this in a glorious duel. If you win, Solaire... I'll give you the help you desire, if you lose, never enter this Estate again uninvited or involve me in your chaotic affairs." The Noble Lord gave in his baritone addressment.

"Aye, we ave’’ a deal." The pirate signaled his agreement and took his tipped tricorne hat and delivered a bow more out of cockiness for the formality then shut audibly the door alongside his exit.

To be continued... Feat. @lordshiroelune Previous Chapters : Forever Destined Noble Trouble Steal the Moon, Pirate!

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reesewestonarchive · 5 years

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EASTHALLOW | Masterpost | Project Page | Project Preview | ko-fi, if you like my work :p

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Back at the farm, Elijah walks, dazed but relaxed, back to the house. He checks behind him once, twice, to see if Rocky, who had followed him to the edge of his parents' property, still sits in the woods, wagging his tail at Elijah.

He doesn't.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Amanda says, as she steps out the front door. The sun is shining, bright and warm already for eight in the morning, and Elijah shakes the woods off of him as best he can.

While he's grateful the beast is a silly witch in the woods, the idea that someone out there just... lives in abandoned shack in his woods unsettles him.

"Not a ghost," Elijah says. He sighs. "Has this town always been this fucking creepy?"

Amanda cocks her head and looks at her son with a smile, then steps down the front steps and towards the hay truck. "The city has made you suspicious, my love." She waves the keys in the air, doesn't look back to Elijah. “Come on. I believe you promised me a trip to the farmer’s market.”

Amanda fiddles with the radio, sings along off-key with wrong lyrics, and Elijah absently brushes the mud from his jeans.

The market’s covered in small tables set up underneath tents. Sunlight shines through the trees, and Elijah all but forgets about Viola and Penny and their tiny shack in the woods. The air is sweet with the smell of apple cider and turnovers, and Elijah follows his mother past table after table of pickles, jams, fresh produce, pies, breads…

He last went when he was seventeen. Far too long ago. The smell of it brings him back to being a child, before he made such a shitty decision, before Josh—

“Elijah, can you take these apples back to the car? I’ve a few more tables I’d like to visit.”

Three bags of apples, Elijah takes to the car, tripping over tree roots and uneven, muddied ground. Passes tables selling food that has his stomach aching with hunger.

Just before the market closes off, though, Elijah notes a man, sitting at his table, his head rested in his hand, elbow on the table, flipping through a book with a bored look on his face. Customers seem to ignore him, as though he’s not there. Candles in mason jars are neatly lined up in front of him, a solitary empty spot where someone has bought one.

He seems to notice Elijah staring, because he lifts his head, locks gazes with him. A smile grows across his face.

“Interest you in some homemade candles, sir?”

Elijah makes a face. ��I’m not a sir.” He should keep going, but—the logo of the candles. Elijah drops one of the bags of apples to pick up a candle. “This creature,” he asks, smoothing his thumb over the creature—thick hair, glowing eyes, fingers like nails. “What is it?”

With a shrug, the man says, “The Beast of Easthallow. Local legend. Man a few hundred years ago, back when Easthallow was just a mining town, claims to’ve seen it.” He cocks his head at Elijah. “There’s a book about it, you know. Adapted from Victor East’s journals.”

“So it’s real?”

Laughing, the man leans back in his chair. “Suppose that matters on whether you’re a believer.” He nods his head at the candle. “Supposed to smell like wildflowers if you see it. S’what the candle’s based on.”

Overhead, the sun hides behind dark storm clouds. Around them, the hum of chatter from the farmer’s market quiets for a minute.

“Can give you a discount if you buy the book, too.” He holds up a book, small, a plain black cover, the words THE BEAST OF EASTHALLOW embellished across the front.

Assuming, for a minute, that Elijah believes any of this, other than a crazy couple of witches living in the woods, he’s unemployed. Setting the candle back down, Elijah says, “I don’t have any money.”

He eyes the apples. “How about a few of those? They came from the Richard Orchard, right?” Elijah shrugs. “Two apples, then.”

Fine. Curiosity peaked, Elijah digs into the bag at his feet for two of the apples, without bruises, one still with a stem and leaf, and hands them over. Their fingers brush together, and Elijah’s lips twitch up in a smile, just for a split second, before he pulls back.

“Do you plan on hunting it?” the man says, dropping the apples into a bucket beside him.

“…Hunting it?”

“We also sell candles that smell like rotten wood and wet dog. Supposed to attract the Beast.”

Elijah snorts. “A candle that smells like garbage?” He shakes his head. “I’ll go with the wildflowers.” Maybe he can gift it to his mother for Christmas.

“I’ll just get you a receipt,” the man says. Elijah hears someone walk up behind him, and turns his head, sees Amanda stepping around counters, a single, small loaf of bread under her arm.

She smiles down at the man, currently scribbling out a receipt for Elijah, and says, “Good morning, Grant. All well at home?”

He lifts his head, looking between the two of them for just a beat or two before he smiles, pleasant and wide, and his eyes—

Elijah clears his throat, averts his gaze. His heart aches, as he thinks of Sean, back home. What used to be home. He wonders if the man he’d found Sean with would be comforting, in Elijah’s absence, or if he’ll find Elijah leaving cause for celebration.

“…fine, Mrs. Flynn.” Grant flashes her a smile, hands over the receipt to Elijah and says, “Have a good day.”

Elijah reaches for the receipt, and Grant winks as their fingers touch again.

As they leave, Amanda weaves her arm around Elijah’s, says, “That wasn’t so bad, was it? And I see you picked up some items as well.” She nods to the book, the candle in the bag. “Didn’t think you were a candle sort.” She smiles, reaches into the bags, plucks out an apple, and begins chattering on.

Elijah glances at the receipt. Ten digits, scribbled at the bottom—give me a call, if you’d like.

At the farm, Elijah thumbs over the receipt as he sits, reclined on the couch, listening as rain beats down on the tin roof. It’s dark, for mid-afternoon; a deep blue-grey overcast filtering the sun out and shadowing the fields.

Still better than the city.

He sighs. Reads the note again. Little early for hookups, isn’t it? Ezra considers himself fairly capable of moving on quickly, but still, if he thinks too much about Sean, something in his chest goes tight and the world feels too small. He could have gone to the other side of the country, to Australia or Japan, and still Sean would feel too close.

Fingers reach up behind him and pluck the receipt out of hand, though, and Elijah doesn’t even bother turning around to chastise his brother. Instead, he says, “Really? We’re being this childish, now?”

Josh reads the note out loud, makes an awwwww sound, and says, “What happened to Sean, McDreamy? Weren’t you guys happy-ever-after or whatever you want to call it?”

“We’re not in trouble,” Elijah says, but he doesn’t make an attempt at the receipt. He just rubs his eyes, wonders how long it’ll take Josh to give up on this. “And it’s none of your fucking business.”

It’s not a lie; they’re not in trouble. Elijah’s completely out of trouble. Feels better about this than he ever has. Josh, though, Josh takes that and runs with it, his eyes getting wide, and he says, “Holy shit. You’re not—“

“Josh—“ Footsteps are coming up from the basement steps, and fuck, Elijah’s not ready to admit that he’d failed in the city, that he ran home with his tail tucked between his legs, and no. They don’t need to know. They don’t need to know. Not yet. Not until Elijah can get on top of things, until he can

When she reaches the top of the stairs, Amanda glances between them, offers a tentative smile. “Getting on, I hope?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, already heading for her bedroom with the laundry basket. “So nice to see the two of you in the same room without screaming…”

She leaves before Josh can say anything, thankfully, and with a pleased sigh, Josh holds the receipt back out. “S’cute. Taking a page out of your older bro’s book, lying to Mom and Dad.”

Refraining from reaching for the receipt, Elijah says, “I’m not lying to them. And would you stop it with the older bro shit?”

Holding his hands in mock surrender, Josh says, "All right. Just... interesting you're the one keeping secrets these days, is all."

Elijah watches him leave, jaw clenched, and lets out a frustrated groan when Josh is finally around the corner.

It's good, though, right, to meet people. In Easthallow. If he's going to be living here... he'll need a network. Grant can help with that.

He calls the number before he can tell himself not to.

"Elijah," he answers, and his voice is smoother, on the phone, than it really should be. "I wondered if you'd call."

"How do you know it's Elijah?"

A beat, then, "I had a feeling. I wanted to know if you’d be interested in getting a drink?” So the entire town can know about it. So Elijah can spend the evening shooting glances around the bar, wondering who he can trust and whether Grant’s one of those people or not. “About the Beast—“

And Elijah laughs, runs a hand through his hair, and wonders if the entire town is like this. “You don’t really believe in it, do you?”

“You’re meant to believe what you see, right?”

“I’ve seen this Beast,” Elijah says. “Didn’t seem so freaky to me.”

Grant makes a noise, like a scoff, but his voice holds no judgement. “Everyone knows about Viola.”

Fine. Just to sate his curiosity. “All right. Drinks, and you can tell me all about this furry little beast of yours.”

Grant meets him in town, dressed in a light jacket Elijah finds himself jealous of, in the misting cold. He reaches out for a handshake. "Good to meet you."

"You, too," Elijah says. "I thought I knew everyone in this town." He grew up here, went to school here. Graduated with twenty kids in his class. Grant... either he was older, younger, or... wasn't from here.

As though sensing Elijah's thoughts, he sends him a sidelong glance and says, "I grew up in the city. Parents divorced when I was little. Thought I'd do better there, but I always liked the country." His smile is warm, pleasant, and Elijah wonders if it helps with the cold or if he's blushing under Grant's gaze. "What about you?"

"City all the way," Elijah says. "Stepping in cow shit has never been my version of fun."

Grant laughs. It feels good, genuine; Elijah can't remember the last time he made someone laugh. "Plenty of other farms than cattle farms."

"Not according to my parents," Elijah says. "You know they started planting crops when I was fifteen, to help with running costs, and my dad flipped?" He did; Allan's a livestock man, through and through. Elijah still remembers the nights his parents stomped around downstairs, trying to make sense of their next plan.

"What happened? Nobody in Easthallow exports crops."

They take a seat at the bar. Grant holds up two fingers to the bartender, and soft country music plays from the corner of the room, and something settles in Elijah's stomach. He's used to drink menus, twenty minutes with Sean while he tries to decide what he wants, and it's like relief when the bartender slides two beers in front of them and disappears.

It's the little things Elijah loves about this town.

"I knew your brother," Grant says, as he digs his phone out his pocket. "Back in high school."

His mood sours, but Elijah tries not to let it. He peers into the bottle, thinks about downing it all in one go. Doesn't.

"He was a prick." Grant taps away on his phone. "Little fucker nearly drove my little sister insane."

Sounds like Josh. "He cheat on her? Josh is an asshole."

"Wouldn't give her the time of day, mostly. She thought they'd grow up, get married, have kids, whole nine yards. Josh found out and... she ended up homeschooling for the rest of high school."

He remembers that. Something faint, and, hell, Elijah didn't even know the girl, but Josh slept with her best friend and then there was all kinds of drama. Because of Josh. It's hard to believe anyone thought he was a catch, but people like the bad boy thing.

"Don't hold that against me, do you?"

Grant doesn't even lift his gaze to meet Elijah's. "If you were anything like your brother, you wouldn't be speaking with me."

He turns his phone to Elijah, finally, onto a homepage for THE BEAST OF EASTHALLOW. He clicks around a bit, checks out the first hand accounts--all written journalism style, with publishing dates and Grant's name at the top as the author--the photos.

"A lot of them are Viola," Grant says, gesturing to the phone with the beer. "She loves getting dressed ip on tourist weekends and scaring the shit out of the visitors in the cabins." He smiles, shakes his head.

"She's not the start of the rumor, then?" Elijah'd been sure... she could've seen something, made the costume as a joke, to keep people away from her house...

"Nah. Viola's big into local history. Or--Penny, her wife, is. Viola took a liking to the Beast 'cause it's mystical."

Grant's thigh rubs against Elijah's, just a little. Just enough to catch the fabric, enough for the pull to tune Elijah into how close they are everywhere. "Did you read the book?"

"Book?" Elijah echoes, then clears his throat. Grateful for the low lights that help hide his blush, Elijah adds, "Right. No. Didn't even crack the spine."

Like he expects it, Grant scrolls down through his phone again, until he stops at a very clear, very close photo. "This is the most famous ever taken. Fifteen years ago or something like that."

When Elijah lived here. Why the fuck didn't he ever hear about this? "Someone's screwing with me," Elijah says. "I grew up here, and we never had a fucking local cryptid, unless you count the town drunk."

"Fifteen years ago, no one used to see it."

"We don't see it now."

Tapping the screen of his phone, Grant says, "Twenty times in the last year."

It's Josh. It's gotta be fucking Josh, enlisting the entire fucking town, right? Found some freaky girl in the woods to scare him, some guy at the farmer's market to fuck with him, and...

That doesn't make sense, though. Josh didn't know he was coming, and Elijah hasn't been home that long. Is this... does Grant actually believe this shit? That there's really some fucking monster crawling around their little town? Easthallow's a trash heap, people and literal garbage. There’s no cause for why he might be…

Elijah huffs a laugh, shakes his head. Downs the rest of his beer and says, “So, okay. Let’s say I believe in your furry little friend, just for like, five seconds.” He’s still not convinced it isn’t Viola. That this entire set-up isn’t something done to fuck with newbies. “Why only see it now?”

The question of the hour. Grant glances up at him, his eyes twinkling. Something there lights a fire on all of Elijah’s nerves, leaves him feeling warm, pleased, arousal building in his stomach. Grant’s an attractive guy; the muscles that scream outdoor labor, a five o’clock shadow Elijah wants to feel against his skin. Dark eyes Elijah could get lost in, and smooth, tan skin, and hair just long enough to pull.

Shit, he’s tapping his phone again, eyebrow raised like he knows Elijah’s imagining being held down by him, and he says, “Hundred year anniversary of old man Lowell’s suicide.”

“He killed himself?”

“So said the newspapers,” Grant said. “Lots of conflicting reports, though. Another one said he died in the old mine tunnels. Pushed from the roof of the Carnegie library… One said he got caught in a wood-chipper.”

Grimacing, Elijah takes a drink of his beer. “Poor way to go.”

But Grant’s voice is thoughtful when he asks, “Is it? Head first, maybe…” He shrugs.

Silence settles between them, Elijah picking at the label on his beer, Grant tapping his fingers rhythmically on the bar top, before Grant finally says, “So what brings you to Easthallow?”

It isn’t a secret, not really, but Elijah hesitates nonetheless. It’s only been a few days since Elijah spoke to Sean, but it feels like it’s been weeks. Easthallow seems so far removed from the city. Always has. “Bad breakup,” he says, finally, then, “or—not really. Just a breakup.”

“He cheat on you?”

Elijah turns his gaze to Grant. How the fuck does he know. He asks as much, and Grant just chuckles, shrugs one shoulder. Ducks his head in something like embarrassment. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“You have a vibe,” Grant says. “Definitely not from here. Wouldn’t come to Easthallow unless you had family. No one comes here.”

“Viola and Penny?”

With a twitch of his lips, Grant says, “I stand corrected.”

Elijah finishes his beer. Returns it to the coaster. Beside him, Grant pockets his phone. “I could show you Old Man Lowell’s place, if you’re up for it.”

Making a face, Elijah says, “Doesn’t that place have to be ancient by now? How’s it still standing?”

Before Grant can answer, Elijah’s phone buzzes in his pocket, incessant against his thigh. He apologizes as he checks it—his mother.

“Sorry, dear,” she says, but sounds exhausted, “your father has a situation with the cattle. Can you come home, help him out?”

Like a child, Elijah says, “Isn’t Josh home to help.”

Her voice is thick with false sweetness when Amanda says, “I’m asking you.”

He doesn’t have much of a choice, then. Offers a tight smile to Grant when he gets off the phone, pockets his phone. “Dad needs me. Cattle probably got loose.”

But Grant’s gaze snaps to Elijah’s, and his questions are lightning fast, one after another, until Elijah reaches out and grips Grant’s wrist. Intimate, for a man he’d met earlier that day. For a man with a curiosity for the unknown and a crazy loom in his eye when he talks about it. “I’m sure he’d welcome the help. My brother’s useless.”

“Bringing a strange man back to the house already?” Grant tsks, but leaves a twenty on the bar as he stands. “What will your parents say?”

Nothing, if Elijah has anything to do about it. “My mother knows you my name. I’d hardly consider you strange.”

The farm is a cacophony of noises when Elijah arrives there. A loud barking, his father’s deep voice as he hollers, the loud, angry mooing of a cow that does not want to follow orders.

“Yikes,” Grant says, closing the door to the driver’s side of his SUV. “Suddenly glad my parents run an orchard.”

“It’s not always like this,” Elijah says by means of explanation. Never once has he heard a dog barking here. His father’s allergic. He can make out his mother standing at the edge of the field, though, makes his way across the yard towards her. Grant’s headlights shine out toward her.

“Elijah,” she says, gripping his arm as he stops by her side. “Your father’s been at this for an hour. Something spooked the cattle.”

No shit. Even from here he can make out the door to the barn, broken off the hinges. “Dad leave the barn open?”

Amanda shakes her head. “No. Strangest thing. The hinges are bent.”

A chill runs through him; the hair on the back of his neck stands up. He takes a quick glance around the yard—lit up by the emergency lights his father had installed—but sees nothing, save for Grant as he makes his way towards them. “Not surprising,” he says. “Cattle are strong. Especially if the bull got out.” A beat. “So someone broke in?”

She takes a second to glance Grant’s way, a twinkle in her eye as he reaches out to shake her hand. “Grant. Didn’t realize Elijah was bringing help.” Before he can offer anything by means of explanation, she adds, “The more the merrier.”

Another bark sounds from the field, and Amanda whistles. “And this fucking dog. No idea where it came from.”

At her whistle, the dog comes bounding up to her, tongue wagging out of its mouth. In the dark, it’s a little different, but Elijah would recognize it anywhere. “Rocky?”

He barks, wags his tail. Amanda looks between them with a frown. “You know him?”

Elijah reaches to scratch his ears. “I met his owner the other day—” He almost says in the woods; doesn’t want to tell her what he was doing out there. “—does he come here often?”

“More than we’d like.”

Behind them, Grant adds, “Could it have been the dog who spooked them?”

Amanda shrugs. “Not likely. Allan nearly got one back to the barn before it ran off again.”

“You guys check the barn out?”

What? No. Elijah really doesn’t want to go play detective right now. He wants to go to the field, help his father wrangle the half-dozen cows and the bull back into their barns. But Grant’s already eyeing the barn, and Elijah’s not going to leave him on his own.

Not until he trusts what the fuck is going on here.

“Be my guest,” Amanda says. “After that, can you guys head out to the field?”

“Will do, Mama.”

Rocky follows at their heels, quieting the closer the get to the barn. The hair on the back of Elijah’s neck still stands on end, but, save for his mother and Grant, the farm’s clear—nothing out of the ordinary.

Grant whistles as he pulls on the door. “Damn thing’s strong.”

“Thing would’ve taken a truck to pull it off the hinges like this.” Elijah rubs his hand along the bent metal. The hinges look twisted, ruined beyond repair, the metal worn and fragile in places. “They’d’ve heard it.”

“No one’s gonna take a damn truck to a barn door, either. Easier to steal the cattle out of the pasture.” Grant seems lost in thought for a few seconds, then pulls a small flashlight from his pocket. “And that’s still a lot of work for half a dozen cattle.”

Old cattle, too. Allan does it more as a hobby, now, than as a way to make money. Breeds the cattle, trades them to keep the bloodlines clean. Elijah remembers some of it from when he used to live here. His father’s trips to cattle auctions.

“Elijah,” Grant says. His tone, soft, strange, not quite a whisper but not his normal tone, piques Elijah’s interest, and he follows Grant’s gaze to where he’s brushing his fingers along where the door used to sit against the side of the barn. He doesn’t see anything at first, just like Grant’s pressing against nothing, and then…

Three long, thick gashes in the wood, splintering the siding out. Like nails, fingernails, but… there’s nothing that could do that. A bear, maybe a cougar, but… “You’re seeing this, too, right?”

Anger flares in Elijah’s stomach. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Josh. He’s always been a joker, but—fuck, getting the cattle involved in his homecoming prank on Elijah? This isn’t some petty joke he’s playing, built from an old sibling rivalry he won’t let go of anymore. This isn’t just between them, and as soon as Elijah gets him alone, he’s going to tear his brother a new one.

He turns on his heel, back towards the field, towards where he can hear his father making whooping noises towards the cattle in the dark. Josh is—damn it. Usually better about this sort of thing. It’s not the first time one of his jokes has gone too far, but it’s about to be the last.

He comes across one of the cows before he sees his father. Behind him, he hears Grant’s footsteps. The cow makes a noise, distressed, and starts to stand. Elijah holds a hand out, palm up, and says, “Easy girl, you’re okay,” in a voice he hopes is soothing.

Still, she only makes concerned noises, struggling to get up, get away. Elijah turns, slow, moves so she’ll run towards the house, not farther into the field, still talking in quiet tones. “Easy—let’s get you back to the barn, yeah? Back to sleep? Bet Dad’s got some treats for you. How ‘bout you follow me?”

She moos again; this time, her voice breaks, and she stands, slow, staring off into the darkness behind Elijah. “Grant, you’re freaking her out,” Elijah says. “Can you back away, just a bit?”

No sound, though; no answer. Not even footsteps as Grant moves. Elijah turns, ready to ask him again, when he sees it—fur, thick, eyes glowing yellow in the dark, shining in the light from the yard. It stands tall, taller than Elijah by at least a foot, and its teeth glimmer, sharp and long. Arms, impossibly long, hang at its sides, its chest heaving with each breath.

It’s different, up close. Taller, thinner. Creepier. He thinks about Viola, about how her costume looks up close, and knows, without a doubt, this isn’t her.

His throat goes dry, his blood rushes like a river through his ears. He can’t scream, doesn’t know what he would say if he could, and hopes to tell Josh off for this, later, when the thing snarls, and the next thing Elijah sees is the large, clawed hand that reaches out, as if from the shadows, and punches him in the head.

He doesn’t remember falling.

#easthallow #my writing #sorry mobile

24 notes · View notes

thethotwithoutfear · 6 years

Text

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

Chapter 1: What’s A Girl Supposed to Do?

GoodFellas/Mob!Bucky x Reader AU

Wordcount: 2,106

Warnings: None for now, but Mob violence, language, and possibly smut will most likely occur in future chapters

Summary: You’re a girl who minds her own, plays it smart, and follows your own current. So what happens after you get roped in to going on a date with one of New York City’s crime syndicate royals?

“You’re a good girl, (y/n). Girls like you don’t go out with guys like him.” Thats what your best friend and roommateTerry told you after you’d informed her you’d agreed to go on a date with James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. You didn’t like him, not in the slightest bit from what you’d been told, but when he held up the line of your clearly busy register, you’d do anything to get him to scram just to get your boss off your back. And if that meant going out for a single, solitary night with Barnes then so be it, you could handle yourself.

James, or Bucky as he was known around Brooklyn, was the practically adopted son of one New York City’s biggest Irish mob bosses. Of course, if you ever mentioned he wasn’t actually a member of the Rogers family, you’d get your teeth knocked out or a black eye as a warning. Often Steve Rogers, crown prince of the Rogers family and Bucky’s “brother” would be the one to deliver the warning, Bucky would then be the one to keep Steve from getting himself killed. Outside his very whispered about involvement with violence and crime, everyone knew him as playboy. You once heard Terry say he’d bring a different dame every night to the Bamboo Club, each one more beautiful than the last (you wondered how she knew so much to begin with but you didn’t pry knowing she’d talk her head off even more). Thus, it was a total surprise when Bucky Barnes had set his sights on you.

Not to say that you found yourself particularly unattractive, in fact you never gave much thought to how other people perceived your looks, but according to your mother the way you carried yourself was the real detriment to any suitor. When you’d asked her what she meant she’d told you you were too brainy, to stubborn, too spirited for any foolish man to be settled down with. And as much as you hated to admit it, she was right. You’d get the occasional silly fool who thought laying it on thick and cheesy would somehow soften your resolve and your brain sure, but it’d usually end up with them leaving in a huff of embarrassment and anger. You didn’t mind it actually, you knew you deserved much more than cheap attention.

So when Bucky Barnes ended up in the record store you worked at, you wondered if maybe that day he’d caught you in a moment of weakness. Maybe if it had been a slow day at work you might’ve had the mental energy to shoot down one of New York City’s most important crime syndicate sons. Instead here you were, legs crossed in bed, dreading the coming of Saturday night as Terry spills every rumor she’s ever heard about one Mr. James Buchanan Barnes. You must’ve been staring off into space before Terry waves a hand in front of your face.

“Shit Terry I’m sorry. I’m just thinking about how awful its going to be. He was insufferable this afternoon!” You tell her, flinging yourself back on to your pillows. She rolls her eyes. “Look on the bright side, at least you know he won’t be a cheap date! The Rogers are loaded even with these damn territory wars with the Italians. I heard the last girl he managed to keep for a good while managed to get a diamond necklace out of him!” she exclaims. “Terry…” you practically groan. She knows things women your age gush about aren’t your thing, you’re not a woman who’s affections can be bought. She gives a little giggle, “Oh (y/n) life would be so much easier if you just give in like the rest of us simpletons and settle. How did the whole thing go down anyway?” she asks. You give a deep sigh as you recall and tell her:

It had been a busy afternoon. The store had just gotten a new shipment of the latest Frankie Valli record so every teenage girl off from school had flooded in to buy it before they’d disappeared like hot cakes. You were ringing Valli record after Valli record, your mind buzzing with the repeated chatter of how damn handsome and suave Frankie fucking Valli was and how ideal he was, and how this and how that, 3 dollars over and over… Until you’d noticed the strange silence that finally fell over the store after the little bell over the door rang one more time. You looked up expecting too see yet another teenage girl, but to your surprise it was instead two men, two impeccably dressed men in clearly tailor made suits. Every girl in the damn store’s eyes were practically glued to the two of them, whispering to each other so you guessed about how handsome the two of them were.

The first man was a tall blonde with strangely soft blue eyes and well chiseled features who’s clearly fit body was well draped and accentuated in a solid blue suit that brought out his eyes even more. He gave off an almost golden glow. At first glance maybe you wouldn’t have detected a bad bone in his body but if you looked at him too closely you’d pick up on a stray scar on his face or hands and an ever present glint of something in his eyes. You’d later learned this man was Steve “the Angel” Rogers. You pondered later just what kind of angel that nickname entailed. He gave you a polite smile before heading to the big band section of the store. You quirked an eyebrow in response but he had not managed to see it.

The second man however practically commanded attention in a different way. While one man practically radiated gold, this other was his opposite. Everything about him enticing interest with the strange air of mystery that sucked you in like a black hole. It wasn’t a darkness that one could consider negative, it was a darkness you could imagine some women wouldn’t be frightened to venture in. But not you, definitely not you. He looked at you as you gave him a glance, the ice blue stare of his eyes practically burned into yours and you looked down again at your register to avoid it. You caught a small satisfied smile creep up on his face from your periphery. He walked up to a nearby section of the more popular records trying to keep his eye on you, you suspected. You glanced up casually from time to time to get a better look at him.

His hair was styled in a perfect side part, tresses of snipped chocolate curls draping just the right amount over his forehead. His jawline was perfectly defined and accentuated by a charming cleft chin, obscenely pink lips which seemed to be permanently smirking acting like icing on the cake. And of course to top it all off, his eyes…his eyes were almost too piercingly blue,often verging on gray as he scanned the records. The black of his fine suit and the dark of his hair made them stick out even more and you could see why every girl within feet of him was practically sighing. You rolled your eyes at a few of them whispering behind him, giggling and scurrying away when he’d turned to look at them.

You paid either man no mind after your observations, instead going back to ringing up Frankie Valli records from school girls. Your boss had come in to check up on how you were handling the influx of young customers. It was when the last few of the girls had all decided to flood your register that Bucky Barnes decided to have you ring him up. The girls practically begged him to cut in line and you gave a quiet scoff at them. You were glad you weren’t boy crazy at their age, you enjoyed a good walk, book, or go at sketching and painting than dealing with silly boys when you were that young. He leaned against the counter, crossing his feet a little in the process, you instantly knew what was coming next.

“So, what’s a choice dame like you doing working on a Friday night? Shouldn’t you be out getting spoiled rotten on a date instead?”he said with a charming Brooklyn drawl. You resisted any and all temptation to roll your eyes at him, especially with your boss watching. You stuck your hand out instead, eyeing the Shangri-La’s record he was holding so he’d give it to you. He handed it over with a bright pink smile as you took it from him. He continued, “You’re a tough cookie huh? Don’t like talking much? Cause that’s ok. I could just stare at you all night instead when we go on our date.” You tried not to react but a small cross between a huff and a stupefied laugh escaped your lips as you rang him up. “Your total is 3 dollars.” you replied with just enough edge so he’d catch your slightly bothered drift. Instead of growing annoyed, he seemed to find your attitude amusing. You noticed the girls behind him staring daggers and whispering about you like you were a maniac for rejecting the advances of a handsome stranger.

At that moment his angel faced friend decided to just cut in line too and hand over his Glenn Miller record to you. That gave Bucky a little more time to flirt with you and you wanted to curse the blonde. “Say Stevie, don’t you agree its a crime that a pretty girl the likes of this one, doesn’t have plans on a friday night?”, he said recycling the flopped line from earlier. “It sure is Buck, unless of course there’s something wrong with her” replied the blonde, now known to you as Steve. For some reason the last part of his statement prickled at you and you couldn’t help but reply with your teeth clenched in whispered annoyance,“Excuse me, but I am right here and no there’s nothing wrong with me. I just don’t like being hit on while I’m working by a couple of meatheads! Your total SIR is now 6 dollars. Will that be all?” You caught the stern look of your boss, you fucked up…

But when you looked at Bucky again he didn’t seem particularly cross or taken aback at you calling him a meathead, instead he looked down right charmed. That seemed to annoy you even more. Most would have called it quits by now. His friend looked absolutely tickled at the rise he’d gotten out of you. “You know it’s not every day I come across a dame ballsy enough to call ME a meathead. Now I gotta take you out ” he replied practically purring. Your boss gave a loud cough and proceeded to remind you that you had a pretty decent line of customers waiting. Your face heating up with embarrassment at having to be reminded. “What do you say doll?” Bucky asked, taking advantage of the added pressure of your boss to hurry it along. “Fine..Fine! I’ll go on a date with you just please move along so I can help the people behind you.” He gave you a down right beaming smile, if you had been anyone else you might have melted, but you were practically fuming with annoyance at Bucky’s success in roping you in.

“Good. I’ll see you next Saturday for our date. I’ll stop by next Friday too to get your address and see your pretty face again. By the way, I’m Bucky Barnes” he said, sticking out a hand for you to shake. At the mention of his name your boss’ eyes practically bulged out of his head, and a few of the girls looked like they were going to wet themselves with what you thought was…fright? You gave him your hand only for him to kiss your knuckles instead, you rolled your eyes at that. Steve proceeded to pay for their things and give you a knowing smirk. They got their things and made way for the door, but half way through the doorway Bucky stopped and turned back to look at you, another downright glaringly delighted grin on his face, “Oh sugar, you never told me your name” he cooed. You sighed with annoyance, why wouldn’t he just LEAVE? “Its (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n), you replied in an almost exhausted tone as you rung up the next customer. He gave you another prize winning smile, white teeth practically glinting “Can’t wait to see you again on Saturday, (y/n)” he said, saying your name like a breathy prayer as he left. You felt dread wash over you…you prayed next Saturday would come and go in a flash…..

PLEASE leave kudos or comments on my ao3 or hit me up on my main if you just feel like saying hello @chrisevansheartofgold

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #mob!bucky #goodfellas au #mob au #bucky barnes

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miss-musings · 6 years

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The Similarities between TBL’s Red and Mr. Rochester, a.k.a. A Classic Byronic Hero

Several in the Blacklist fandom, myself included, have compared our protagonist “Raymond (Red) Reddington” (James Spader’s character) to the likes of Edmond Dantes and Mr. Rochester.

The reasoning behind this, other than sharing some parallel plot points (such as being a sailor, being labeled a criminal by his government, going into exile, wanting revenge and/or relief, etc.) … Red shares a lot of the traits of a Byronic hero.

According to the Wikipedia entry for the Byronic hero, various iterations of the character-type are described as:

“a man proud, moody, cynical, with defiance on his brow, and misery in his heart, a scorner of his kind, implacable in revenge, yet capable of deep and strong affection …a solitary figure, resigned to suffering … the “fallen angel” … [with a] violent temper and [capable of] seduction … [has] occasional outbreaks of remorse [that] reveal a tortured character, echoing a Byronic remorse … a remarkable blend of both villain and hero, and exploration of both sides of the Byronic character.”

Here are some other slides I found that give descriptions and examples of Byronic heroes. I take no credit for any of these slides:

Now, obviously, the Byronic hero is a bit fluid, meaning that not every single example of one fits every single characteristic in each description. But, I truly see Red as a Byronic hero. (I bolded all the traits in the description that I think fit him.) The Byronic hero is sometimes seen as the predecessor or primogenitor or at least the “cousin” of the modern-day anti-hero, which Red DEFINITELY falls into. He’s by all accounts a “bad guy” and yet we love him and we want him to win.

But in a recent post, I used the similarities between Red and a very early example of a Byronic hero, Mr. Rochester of “Jane Eyre,” as evidence for why I think Red is the romantic lead in our story, and why he and Liz getting together in some form or fashion (a.k.a. Lizzington) is the endgame.

Looking at it more closely, if we assume that Liz is Red’s love interest, as Jane is Rochester’s, more similarities and parallels become evident:

His love interest works for him in some regard

He is about twice her age

He sees her as his “second chance,” etc. (we’ll dive into that more in a second)

In comparison to the female protagonist and the other characters, he is considered to be very worldly and well-traveled

He travels, in part, to escape both his inner and outer demons

He was previously married and had several trysts and relationships with various women until meeting the protagonist

(Seemingly) flirts with his female acquaintances to make the protagonist jealous

Once meeting her, he becomes completely devoted to the protagonist, and has eyes for no other woman

One thing that has always struck me about Red on TBL is that, while we do get references to him being in relationships and having sex with women in the past, we REALLY don’t see Red engaging in relationships or trysts since meeting Liz in the pilot. Maybe he does it off-screen, and there is that shot of Luli in 1x05 where she walks through the room in one of Red’s shirts… but, other than that, NOTHING! Yes, he flirts. Yes, he makes sexy comments and allusions. Yes, he dances with Madeline seductively and closely in 1x14. But, for a man who admits that he views sex as a drug, and his FAVORITE AND GO-TO DRUG at that, he has been relatively chaste on-screen.

The show clearly has no problem showing couples hooking up so long as its “family-friendly”. They showed Ressler and Samar getting together. They’ve shown Liz and Tom having sexy times on several occasions. They insinuated sexual activity between Aram and his shitty girlfriend. …So, why have James Spader, who once played a character that said “Everything is sex,” be relatively celibate and not get in on the action???

If the show wanted to quell the whole “Lizzington” uproar, all the showrunners would have to do is have Red tell Liz he’s her dad or relative or father-figure or whatever, and then give him a nice, steady, likable love interest. Piece of cake.

Anyway, back to the Byronic hero.

While their backstories differ greatly, Red FEELS and SOUNDS a lot like Mr. Rochester, or other Byronic heroes in general. Like Dantes, he seems to have some kind of elaborate “long-game” of revenge that targets the people who did him wrong but who are also legitimately evil and are doing the world harm; while at the same time, he’s intent on protecting the lives of the innocent. Like Dantes, maybe Red has or soon will become too wrapped up in his mission of revenge and will need others to show him the light.

But, as for his similarities to Mr. Rochester, as I pointed out in the other post, Red has these long, grand monologues about what he has become, who he used to be, and who he wants (Liz to help him) to be again.

(EDIT: I previously had tried to embed videos before, but they didn’t come up on either mobile or desktop, so I’ve just added links to the YouTube videos instead.)

Examples include:

The Ugly Fish monologue in 2x09

The North Star monologue in 3x02

He also tends to wax philosophical about the guilt he feels, and how he is making or has tried to make amends, and how the life he leads has caused him to feel less-than-human, etc.

Examples include:

The “…just a nice gesture” monologue in 2x16

The “I’m a violent man” monologue in 3x12

And because of all this, he feels very much like a wandering, tortured soul… as we learn very vividly from the infamous “Parable of the Farmer” in 1x04.

All of these is, of course, very much like Mr. Rochester from “Jane Eyre.”

Here are some passages from “Jane Eyre” where Mr. Rochester is talking about the woman he loves. At the time, Jane is in love with him, but she believes he is in love with someone else (Blanche Ingram). In reality, though, Mr. Rochester has been in love with Jane since he first met her, and decided that jealousy would be the best way to 1) see whether Jane loved him, and 2) if she did, to make that love grow and become more apparent.

(BTW, just gonna put these two completely random pictures here:)

Here’s the first one, in which Rochester is talking to Jane after she saved him from a fire in his bedroom.

(BTW, the narration is written from Jane’s first-person perspective.)

[Rochester:] “But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgment and good-will: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life!—snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands.”

He held out his hand; I gave him mine: he took it first in one, them in both his own.

“You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been tolerable to me in the character of creditor for such an obligation: but you: it is different;—I feel your benefits no burden, Jane.”

He paused; gazed at me: words almost visible trembled on his lips,—but his voice was checked.

“Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case.”

“I knew,” he continued, “you would do me good in some way, at some time;—I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not”—(again he stopped)—“did not” (he proceeded hastily) “strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing. People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, goodnight!”

And, now, in this second passage … this is after Rochester has been (sort of) “courting” Blanche in front of Jane, and Jane and he are sharing a quiet, peaceful moment together after a very strange and stressful night.

Here, Rochester starts talking VERY VAGUELY about the shitty things that have happened to him, how he’s tried to find solace in worldy things and ultimately, only now, has he found happiness and peace with the woman he loves. Jane ~assumes~ he’s talking about Blanche, when in reality he’s talking about Jane:

“Well then, Jane, call to aid your fancy:—suppose you were no longer a girl well reared and disciplined, but a wild boy indulged from childhood upwards; imagine yourself in a remote foreign land; conceive that you there commit a capital error, no matter of what nature or from what motives, but one whose consequences must follow you through life and taint all your existence. Mind, I don’t say a crime; I am not speaking of shedding of blood or any other guilty act, which might make the perpetrator amenable to the law: my word is error. The results of what you have done become in time to you utterly insupportable; you take measures to obtain relief: unusual measures, but neither unlawful nor culpable. Still you are miserable; for hope has quitted you on the very confines of life: your sun at noon darkens in an eclipse, which you feel will not leave it till the time of setting. Bitter and base associations have become the sole food of your memory: you wander here and there, seeking rest in exile: happiness in pleasure—I mean in heartless, sensual pleasure—such as dulls intellect and blights feeling. Heart-weary and soul-withered, you come home after years of voluntary banishment: you make a new acquaintance—how or where no matter: you find in this stranger much of the good and bright qualities which you have sought for twenty years, and never before encountered; and they are all fresh, healthy, without soil and without taint. Such society revives, regenerates: you feel better days come back—higher wishes, purer feelings; you desire to recommence your life, and to spend what remains to you of days in a way more worthy of an immortal being. To attain this end, are you justified in overleaping an obstacle of custom—a mere conventional impediment which neither your conscience sanctifies nor your judgment approves?…

“Is the wandering and sinful, but now rest-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world’s opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?”

“Sir,” I answered, “a wanderer’s repose or a sinner’s reformation should never depend on a fellow-creature. Men and women die; philosophers falter in wisdom, and Christians in goodness: if any one you know has suffered and erred, let him look higher than his equals for strength to amend and solace to heal.”

“But the instrument—the instrument! God, who does the work, ordains the instrument. I have myself—I tell it you without parable—been a worldly, dissipated, restless man; and I believe I have found the instrument for my cure in—”

He paused: the birds went on carolling, the leaves lightly rustling. I almost wondered they did not check their songs and whispers to catch the suspended revelation; but they would have had to wait many minutes—so long was the silence protracted. At last I looked up at the tardy speaker: he was looking eagerly at me.

“Little friend,” said he, in quite a changed tone—while his face changed too, losing all its softness and gravity, and becoming harsh and sarcastic—“you have noticed my tender penchant for Miss Ingram: don’t you think if I married her she would regenerate me with a vengeance?”

Now…

(SPOILER WARNING FOR JANE EYRE)

What Rochester is ACTUALLY talking about, in reference to what he experienced as a young man, was – about 20 years before the events of the novel – he traveled from England to the West Indies and was convinced by his family and others into marrying a woman whom he later discovered was clinically insane. He tried to live with her initially, but later brought her back to England and paid a servant to watch her and not tell anyone about it, never told any of his friends or other servants he was married, and then runs off and roams about the world for 20-ish years having trysts and trying to find solace where he could. And then – after he meets Jane – he tries to marry her without informing her that he’s already married.

So, after Jane finds out during the ceremony – through the providence of someone outing Rochester for his treachery – the two have a discussion about where their relationship will go from here. Rochester wants to “marry” her or at least have her live with him, away from people; but, she’s not down for it. This is what he says as part of his long-ass explanation as to why he did what he did:

“Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. … After a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love—I have found you. You are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

Just in these four phrases I bolded from Rochester’s monologue to Jane about what he did, I saw parallels to four very notable Red quotes: (in order) when he tells Fitch “you cannot possibly fathom how deep that well of my truly goes” in reference to his desire to protect the things and people he loves in 1x20; the “I have you” in 1x03; his description of Liz to Sam in 1x08; and the “love is having no control” moment in 2x08.

(End of Spoiler Warning)

This is all a very long way of saying that I have no idea whether the writers intended for Red to have parallels to the Byronic hero or to Mr. Rochester specifically.

But, he does.

Red is clearly keeping secrets from Liz the way Rochester kept them from Jane. We’re not yet sure what these secrets are (many, including myself, believe it’s that he stole the identity of Raymond Reddington, who is Liz’s biological father).

And, despite a very large age gap, these two have been set-up as the romantic couple of our show, as Rochester and Jane were. Right now (in S5a), Liz believes Red to be her dad; and, in Jane Eyre, Rochester remarks to Jane how he’s old enough to be her father. (He’s like 40 and she’s around 18-20.)

And, just as with Rochester, Red is hoping to find some kind of re-humanization with Liz... that she will restore him to what he once was. People don’t say things like that to friends or family members, so it becomes very strong evidence that Red and Liz are meant to be our end-game.

Another quick thing I’d like to point out is that, in the novel, Jane has very few friends, and as of S5a, the only friends Liz has ever had on the show… consistently … are people from work. (And I guess you could count Tom.) She’s an orphan, like Jane. She doesn’t really have anyone to call “family” or “home.” (Other than Tom, but he’s dead now.) In S1 through S2a, we saw how alone and isolated and tricked and manipulated she felt, just as Jane does throughout various points in the novel.

Now, obviously, there are PLENTY of differences. This is a crime-drama procedural after all. Liz is a full-grown woman with a child of her own. She’s not an 18-20 year old governess who has never gone beyond her schoolhouse and childhood home. She’s not completely naive; she’s not completely without family and friends. When compared to Jane, she’s seen and done plenty.

But the fact that Red and Liz have these strong individual parallels to Rochester and Jane, respectively, and the fact that there are so many parallels between them as couples – ie, he’s keeping secrets from her; he’s besotted with her and sees her as his redemption, etc. – makes me wonder whether this WAS intentional to some degree.

Even while many TBL fans have been watching and screaming at the screen, “JUST SAY HE’S HER DAD ALREADY!” and then breathed a long sigh of exasperation and annoyance when the question was finally answered in 4x22... I’ve been sitting over here with these weirdly intertwined images stuck in my head:

#mr. rochester #rochester #jane eyre #raymond reddington #elizabeth keen #masha rostova #red reddington #james spader #byronic hero #megan boone #the blacklist #nbc the blacklist #charlotte bronte

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 15 – Encounter

You would have been expected to kneel on a single leg and bow, given that you are one of us. In other words, don’t stress out any joint in your legs.

Don’t use any addressing term apart from “lord” or “my lord.”

Don’t fret. Simply answering given questions is good enough.

Don’t cover your pendant, for it must stay conspicuous at all times. Don’t lose or damage it either; you must return it upon your leave.

And PLEASE don’t burn or destroy anything in there.

The last sentence, as a matter of fact, was not included in the visitor’s manual Rael improvised, but he was impelled to add it based on his judgment on his company.

“Oh, don’t worry! I’ll definitely make you proud, sir!”

I beg your pardon, but you just scared my soul out of me by saying that.

Rael did not blurt out his fear, however. He felt guilty for offering six “don’t”s instead of a word of support to Yuhyung.

“By the way... Do I have to get in there by myself?”

Yuhyung warily asked, fingering the golden necklace that served as an emblem of a VIP visitor.

“I’m afraid so. I would’ve accompanied you on usual circumstances, but I am needed at my clan. Oh, and please save yourself from asserting that you do not blame me.”

Rael demonstrated his knowledge on his audience, which successfully sealed the human’s lips unzipped in a hurry.

“Just keep in mind what I told you, and you’ll be fine.”

As soon as Rael finished his words, the door opened with an mind-shattering thud.

Yuhyung ended up dropping his bag due to severe shudder, and Rael kindly retrieved it and handed it to its owner. He also kept his gaze on Yuhyung until the door was closed, to show that he has got the human’s back.

His part of the job done, Rael nimbly turned on the soles of his feet, only to stop short upon appearance of someone with no reason to be around at this time of the day.

“Lady Seira?”

“I see you made it back safely, Sir Rael.”

“What brings you here?”

“...I am on my way back. I just visited Lady Rosaria to reply to her invitation.”

Rael was about to play along with an affirmation of her answer, when he noticed something was not quite right with her description.

“What do you mean, visit Lady Rosaria to reply to her invitation?”

Don’t you mean you visited Lady Rosaria upon invitation?

For a second Rael suspected there is a flaw in Seira’s linguistic skills or his own auditory interpretation. He dropped the possibility in less than a second, though. He knew both of them were native speakers in Lukedonian, and it was partially because he realized albeit late that they were not on the same page of the conversation.

“Lady Rosaria sent me a messenger for an invitation. She suggested we should spend some ‘girl time.’ But I just visited her in person to decline. Additionally, I told her as grateful as I am for her considerations, there is no need for her to spare her hospitality for me.”

Seira was not the eager type when it came to socializing. Nevertheless, she was not the type to play blind to chances to socialize, either. At least that was the Seira he knew.

Not to mention he could not guess or see any reason for her to reject Rosaria’s invitation.

Rael was planning to ask Seira if there is anything wrong, when something drew his attention at the corner of his memories.

Right after he was made in charge of Lukedonia’s duties for the QuadraNet project, he briefly caught up to Seira to ask her if there is anything she would like him to deliver to her friends in Korea.

Thank you, but I decline.

Rael was not surprised at the fact that she said no. It was not the first time she said no, often solely because the person she was replying to was named Rael Kertia. He was surprised at the reason she produced, however.

Now it is time for me to treat everything about me as a head of the Loyard clan. Which means it is time for me to completely depart from my life before.

Seira had been a head of her clan for more than a day or two. She happened to be one before her return to Lukedonia, during which she willingly shared her presence with her friends.

But lo and behold, she was altogether turning her backs on her friends. Rael was aware of the fact that her return was permanent. Nonetheless, he was also aware of the fact that her friends, according to Raizel, remembered her. And they missed her.

‘No, she wasn’t turning her backs on them. She was trying to turn her backs on them.’

Back then Rael speculated she was trying to relocate her life outside Lukedonia in the safe of her memories.

To his shock, here she was, shying away from generosity of her own kind.

“If there is nothing more you have to discuss with me, allow me to excuse myself.”

Seira nodded her head and turned away, with Rael enacting a statue while his head was processing what was going on.

‘Seira, what are you thinking?’

Rael’s question echoed in mute, as he stared at her back and reminisced her most recent actions.

He could bet she was not completely unwavered by his offer to reach out to her friends; he recalled how her chest froze for a split second before she exhaled.

And one more thing.

‘Why would she pass by the Lord’s Hall on her way back from the Elenor manor? It would’ve been faster for her to head straight back to her own mansion.’

It did not take long for Rael to reach a projection-slash-conclusion.

‘Are you lonely, Seira? Are you, however, trying to ignore your loneliness? Because you are the head of your clan?’

Rael could tell that her solitary conquer of loneliness was not turning victorious.

‘It’s still early, but there are plenty of people going about, including the Central Knights. There’s a good chance she decided to stop by a crowded place even for a minute to weaken her loneliness. But does she have to go that far because of the shoes she is wearing?’

Almost as soon as he lamented, Rael could not help feeling deep relation to her.

After all, a falcon nesting atop a deadly precipice must fight off every risk, creature or creation, to protect its nest.

Rael knew he was in no situation to be a critic for Seira’s behavior, for he, too, half-forcedly made loneliness his new friend.

‘But loneliness is never cooperative. Whether you want to befriend it or shun it, it will not concede that easily. Particularly if you fail to cut off all your ties at once.’

The Kertia unleashed the air that had filled his head with a thick sigh, and the void in his head was replaced by responsibility he had forgotten momentarily.

‘I don’t have time to stand here.’

As Rael’s feet took him towards the Kertia land, his robe fleeted more noticeably than usual, as if personifying his mixed feelings of expectations, complications, and concerns.

*****

Where is I?

Who is this place?

What time is she?

Right now, who...

Oh, wait. She is the lord.

The lord of the nobles.

As soon as his brain finished making out the situation, Yuhyung’s mind – which was about to free itself from swamp of self-breakdown – was dragged back to the nightmarish pit.

The man went through hundreds of resolves. And thousands of determinations. Alas, now that he stood in the one and only noble sovereign’s presence, the pressure was beyond what he could dream.

Every single one of his brain cells was tap-dancing, thoroughly betraying its owner.

Yuhyung could not be more thankful that the lord appeared very, very generous. It has been roughly 5 minutes since their supposedly mutual conversation had turned one-sided; yet Yuhyung could not detect the slightest hint of annoyance on her countenance.

“Are you alright?”

“S-sorry?!”

“If your journey has damaged your ability to think accordingly, I can provide you with respite as necessary.”

“Uh... N-n-no! Not at all! I-it’s just that... I’ve never done something like this in my life...”

“Have no fear. I, too, have never done this. So let us take one step at a time. First, I would like you to show me the device you brought for me.”

“Ah, yes! Yes, of course! Allow me to... Uh, I mean, I shall do that!”

Yuhyung was shivering so hard any other spectator would envision his bones, flesh, vessels, and skin being separated by layers. Meanwhile, he pulled out from his bag a smartphone he had picked up from Tao.

“Uh... The Noblesse possesses a phone of the identical model.”

“I see. Now give me a moment.”

Lascrea removed herself from her throne, causing Yuhyung’s pupils to parody a Cirque du Soleil trick at least 5 times in a second.

His tremor much more intensified, Yuhyung started to outline Tao’s notices one by one.

“Uh, so... This is a model sold to the public, but the man named Tao modified it. It contains part of the source code essential for QuadraNet – uh, we decided to call this network the QuadraNet – so it will work here in Lukedonia. However, your phone is connected only to the Noblesse’s phone.”

Yuhyung’s finger glided across the screen, slow enough for Lascrea to get an understanding of the mechanism of the device that now belongs to her, partly because (in fact, largely because) he was still trying to believe this was reality.

The phone screen was almost empty, save for the corner covered by three applications. He tapped an icon marred with bloody calligraphy.

“This is a ‘messenger app.’ So – watch closely – if you tap it like this... And this... It will let you enter messages, which will be exchanged with those from the Noblesse. Right on the spot.”

Yuhyung performed a guide of the interface basically equivalent to commercially popular messenger applications, and Lascrea without hesitation orchestrated her fingers in staccato and typed in a message.

Yuhyung knew it is not polite to gape at someone, yet he could not control his eyes. Her action implied this was not her first time confronting a smartphone keyboard.

“I saw human children using this device, during my stay in your world.”

“Oh... I, I see! T-then I guess there’s no need for me to give you further details.”

Yuhyung returned to the main screen and sharply poked and initiated an application with crimson envelope icon.

“This is an email app that only you’d get to share with the Noblesse. I doubt you’d ever get to use it – not with the messenger app. But Mr. Tao decided it would be wise to make you one.”

After a brief demo of sending an email, Yuhyung directed his finger to the last application.

Which happened to be the main event.

“Now this is the application for the QuadraNet. With this app, you can log onto the QuadraNet whenever, wherever you are. As soon as the installation and furnishing of the system is complete...”

That was when Yuhyung relented in his speech; Lascrea immediately comprehended what held his tongue.

“I believe now is the time to show you our communication chamber.”

Yuhyung tagged along the noble lord like a puppy, and once he reached his destination, he stopped trembling for the first time ever since he entered the Lord’s Hall.

He did not think he would find much in the chamber. He had wondered, why would the nobles make use of human technology?

Contrary to his anticipations, he soon found himself standing in midst of every equipment and kit he could think of for communications.

Strongly convinced that his task will be much easier, Yuhyung smiled in a way only a confident man could manage.

In less than 20 minutes Lascrea got to marvel, upon returning to the chamber to give the man words of encouragement.

“The KSA has sent me a perfect person for the job.”

“Uhh... Oh, this is nothing!”

“How much progress do you presume you have made?”

Back to business mode in a flash, Yuhyung let his fingers dance across the keyboard he connected to the monitor.

“This chamber is now impeccably injected with gadgets from KSA and Mr. Tao’s appliances and programs. So I’d say it is more than halfway done. But...”

“We are not the only ones that will benefit from this project.”

“Right. I haven’t made contact with the werewolves, so I don’t have anything from their side. And until I get what I need from them, this system will be left incomplete. Would you mind if I collect what I need from them and finish the job once I get back?”

“Sounds reasonable. Which means you would need someone to take you to the wolfkind territory. I shall make arrangements on the matter.”

Yuhyung nodded to show he absorbed the idea, and Lascrea turned her elegant gaze towards the two Central Knights who shadowed her.

“Take the guest back to the cabin. And make sure nothing will affect his physical or emotional well-being. He is our priceless guest.”

The Central Knights replied in compliance, and Yuhyung very awkwardly bowed his head to her before he walked away with them.

Out of impulse he glanced back at her, to promptly tilt his head in curiosity.

Lascrea, who very quickly withdrew her attention from him, was looking down into her phone. And her face was flushed, floral – unmistakably marred with tinges of fluttering emotions.

‘What? Did she get a reply from the Noblesse? But how come she’s so delighted? Do they have a thing going on between?’

He did not have enough time to learn more about the most influential nobles of Lukedonia, because of which the only thing he could do was sway his head from side to side.

His gesture of inquisitiveness did not cease even as he stepped through the hallway outside. Even when someone approached him.

“My, my. Good day, gentlemen.”

Yuhyung flinched in pure gut reaction against a voice he has not heard before.

Once he fully grasped the appearance of the newcomer, Yuhyung inwardly exclaimed in shock.

‘My god... I’ve never seen an organism that looks more exhausted than I do.’

While studying his pale face, Yuhyung noted how the orange-haired noble was staring right at him. Hence he was rendered heedless of his own action as he gulped.

“Sir Deneb.”

“Can we be of service?”

“I heard we have an important visitor. As far as I’m concerned, he is the very first human guest we are to have in our generation. So I could not help getting curious. Which is why I wished I could get a glimpse of you from afar, sir. But what do we know? I ran right into you.”

Deneb very effortlessly shifted his speech towards Yuhyung, due to which the latter tensed up once more.

For a reason unlike the one he had in Lascrea’s attendance, however.

“Would it bother you if I escort him myself?”

“Sorry? Yourself?”

“There’s no need for you to do so. We are pleased to offer our service.”

“It’s alright. This would be a perfect chance for me to ease myself from the shackle of questions that I had no keys for until now. So please, could you be so kind and give me an opportunity here?”

Deneb even squinted his eyes in a silly grin, which rid the Central Knights of excuses, who awkwardly exchanged looks.

“Very well. We will leave this to you, sir.”

The Central Knights did not forget assuring Yuhyung that there is nothing for him to worry about before recalibrating their steps. Deneb, with the two nobles gone, made a full smile and strode towards the human doctor.

“Now, shall we continue?”

Yuhyung tailed the Illiness, his eyes not at all hiding his cringe.

His eyes stayed in the manner that he would by no means want to display to anybody, while they paced towards his cabin. Soon afterwards his eyes started to falter in disconcerted way, as he observed how the numbers of trees and pillars strange to him were increasing.

“Umm... Excuse me...? Sir? Are... Are we taking a detour or something?”

Yuhyung asked, hoping that he was wrong: this noble brought him to a place with nobody to pass by, instead of his cabin.

He was also unsettled by the fact that the noble who declared he had questions to ask was in fact silent throughout their trip. Finally, when Deneb turned around, Yuhyung clutched his bag tight onto his chest, Rael’s advice about his pendant wiped clean from his head.

“Seira J. Loyard. Do you know who I’m talking about?”

Deneb no longer sounded cordial or courteous. That was when enlightenment hit Yuhyung, upon the reason why he was attacked by anxiety not like the one he felt when he was with Lascrea.

“Pardon? Uh... Uh, yeah. My colleagues told me about her, but... Is there a problem?”

“When she was lodging in your world, what did she like? What did she do during her spare time?”

Yuhyung was momentarily speechless that his questions were about his own kind, not about him or homo sapiens.

“I... I believe she usually hung around with her human friends. She specially enjoyed chatting with her friends with a treat or two.”

Once he was done answering, Yuhyung fumbled with his lips. He was uncertain whether he was correct with the assumption that Deneb was asking about pastime.

“I’ll need a party.”

Just then Deneb whispered, almost to himself.

He smirked in a highly unpleasant way before the human could retort.

His smile was not hugely different from the one he exhibited when they first met; nevertheless, this time his profile was somewhat heinous. It no longer looked like the pale noble was smiling in a silly way.

Yuhyung could detect desire threatening to burst from every line and surface of his makeup. From the nanoscopic spots of color upon his pallid skin. From slim curves next to the corners of his eyes. From the tips of teeth ghosting beneath his lips now and then.

Yuhyung did not – or could not – stop himself from quivering in the face of a noble in hunger.

(next chapter)

#fanfic #korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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drinkupthesunrise · 7 years

Note

If you're still taking fic requests... Wedge/Lando, one-upmanship. Or, you know, any pilot and Lando. I'm not picky. :D

Yes, I am still filling my prompts from ages ago, they are nice to chip away at. This has so little to do with the prompt you gave, spooky, that I don’t even know – I know I’m not exactly great at sticking to prompts but this is beyond that :D Anyway, it hopefully has several other things you like instead?

General warning that Wedge is not entirely in the fittest state of mental health here; nothing bad happens but things are discussed which might be unpleasant for some. (also on ao3)

TheX-Wing. Incom’sfinest achievement; the Rebellion stalwart. An all-rounder, not quiteas fast as an A-Wing but with more manoeuvrability, fire power tomatch any ship of its size, and one sizable advantage on the TIEfighter so beloved by the Empire. Shields.

Asfar as Lando is concerned, the things are death traps. His opinion onthis extends not just to the X-Wings, but the Alliance’sentire compliment of snubfighters. The Millennium Falcon is justfine, and whilst Han is stuck in the blasted carbonite, his to lookafter. So it makes sense to use it whenever the Alliance sends himout on a mission.

Thereare plenty of daredevil X-Wing pilots in the service, but Lando keepsgetting stuck with the same one flying his escort. A dark-hairedyoung Corellian, in a battered X-Wing that has seen one too manybattles. Lando is no stranger to dark-haired Corellians in batteredships, but this one doesn’thalf worship the ground he walks on.

(Hanhadn’tdone that, not exactly,but he’dalways regarded Lando with a gleam in his eye, like he couldn’tquite bring himself to tear his eyes away. The feeling had beenmutual. When Han had left, Lando had spiralled; he’d done a lot ofstupid things in the months that had followed, including a run-inwith Hera Syndulla – which he guesses is one of the reasons whyAntilles doesn’t trust him. He’d come good there in the end.

Butit’sdifficult to shake that impression, if Antilles had been told thetale; how he’d almost sold someone into slavery because he was moreconcerned with his own ideas than with anyone else’s safety.He’smade plenty of mistakes since, too. He might be with the Alliancenow, accepted a commission as a General, even if he refuses to bow toall their rules and regulations, but he can’t fight the naggingfeeling that he should have been here from the start. He made contactwith a part of the Rebellion before the Alliance was even signed; nowhe’s rocked up late to the party.

There’sstill time to make a difference.)

It’sthe chancellor herself, Mon Mothma – who Lando likes, because shetakes very little shit when he attempts to charm her, merely rollingher eyes and sending him on his way – who keeps assigning Wedge toaccompany Lando. So Lando can’t exactly do anything to countermandher orders. He’s stuck with this by-the-book pilot – whateverhappened to X-Wing pilots’ reputation as daredevils? – who’sgot a stick up his arse, and seems devote on infuriating Lando to thebest of his ability.

Atleast he’spretty. Or Lando might have tossed him out the airlock already.

Itmust be said that Wedge Antilles has one other great advantage; he’sone hell of a pilot. He flies an X-Wing like he was born to it, likehe’d never dreamed of doing anything else but flying.

Rightnow, he’sdarting under the belly of a mid-sized Imperial cruiser, leading amerry chase for the four TIE fighters that are following him. Theships defensive cannons are firing, but Wedge is dodging every shot,heading straight and single minded for the shield generators.

Landois keeping a close eye; the pilots in the TIEs are idiots, not theEmpire’sbest by a long way, but they still present considerable danger ifWedge takes his eye off the ball. “Rogue One, are you sureyou don’tneed assistance.” From the co-pilot’s seat, Chewie growls anegative before Wedge manages to respond with one.

“Yeahyeah, he’s capable, still doesn’t mean that what he’s doingain’t hella dangerous,” Lando shoots back, silencing the commsystem once again. The Falcon is far enough away, and hidden behind amoon, and for whatever reason the Imperials haven’t detected it.

Intelligencesaid this ship was full of idiots, washouts from the lower Imperialacademies, but Lando hadn’tthought they’d be this slow. The Falcon and a solitary X-Wingshouldn’t pose much of a threat to a ship like this, not if it wasmanned properly, and if the X-Wing and the Falcon were piloted by menlesser than Lando and Wedge.

Aping from the sensors say that the shields are down; time for theFalcon to move. Two of the TIEs veer off Wedge as they spot theFalcon, deciding to pursue the larger target. To their peril. Onequick word to Chewie and he’son it, targeting the rear gun on them, and taking down one, and thenthe other as Lando loops over the cruiser. “Rogue One, how’re youdoing with those TIEs?”

“Fine,get on with your half Falcon!” Wedge’s words are short andcursory, like he barely has time to contemplate Lando’s existence,and that he dearly wants to get back to his own concerns.

Landorolls his eyes, whilst a snort from Chewie indicates that he agreeswith Wedge, and that Lando should get on. So Lando flicks on an opencomm channel, and says, in the steeliest tones he can muster: “Thisis General Calrissian of the Millennium Falcon, representing theAlliance to Restore the Republic, and given that myself and my friendhere could shoot you out the sky right now, can we have your fullsurrender?”

“Die,Rebellion scum!” is the immediate response, but it’s followed bysome hasty clattering, so Lando waits patiently until someone withsense comes to the lead comm station.

“Thisis First Officer Helen, I’m authorised to offer you a conditionalsurrender on behalf of the bridge crew, will that do?” It’s anervous, young voice, this time.

Landosighs. He never planned to blow anyone out the sky; this crew is tooinept to deserve it. But they carry Imperial clearance codes, onesthat the Alliance needs for another mission. “I’lltake it for now. I’m going to dock, and I warn you; I have an angryWookiee on board who doesn’t like to be crossed.”

Chewieregards Lando with just a hint of betrayal; Lando shrugs. Chewie isintimidating, at least to those who don’tknow him. “Of course sir,” is the response.

“Andspace for my companion in the hangar, please.” A quick check onsensor logs reveals that all the TIEs have long faded to dust, andWedge is hovering a short distance away, lasers primed and aimeddirectly at the bridge.

Theship holds no surprises; the First Officer greets them, alreadyhaving stripped her rank insignia and imperial crest from her uniform– she had no great love for the Empire, Lando soon gathers. TheCommander is knocked out cold, the only one with real objections. Itdoesn’ttake long for Lando to find what he needs, and reach an agreementwith Officer Helen about bringing her crew back to the Alliance. TheCommander – along with a few of the soldiers with families who fearImperial reprisals were they to defect – are stuffed into an escapepod.

Aftereverything settles, Lando finds Wedge in the hangar, inspecting theLambda class shuttle that they’vesomehow crammed on board. “Good shooting out there,” Landocomments, the easy praise of a man who is used to leading.

Wedgejust huffs, running his hands over cool steel, and Lando wonders whatthe hell is his problem.

Ona planet which Lando barely remembers the name of – something likeCrestia II, or maybe III – Lando picks the most inopportune momentto ask “Sowhat the hell is Antilles’ deal?”

He’sgreeted with a groan from Leia Organa, who is his partner for thismission. She’s an effective one, able to slink past the localImperials – who don’t seem to be paying any attention to their‘most wanted’ posters – with the sweetest smile. Only that parthas all gone wrong, and now they’re in the middle of a firefight.“You’ve got great timing.” Readjusting her rifle, Leia takesaim through the scope and unleashes three perfect shots, each of themtaking out a stormtrooper below. “Gonna elucidate on that any, oram I supposed to guess which one you mean? We’ve got a few floatingabout the Rebellion.”

“Onlyone of whom you interact with regularly.” The glare with which Leiagreets that statement makes him doubt the veracity of it, andindicates that Lando is wasting his time by not explaining thingsproperly. “Wedge. I can’t figure him out at all.”

“It’snot that hard,” Leia replies, tone perfectly casual. “He’s gota case of survivor’s guilt the weight of a planet, a sense ofhumour black as carbonite diamond, a sense of loyalty so strong it’sa wonder it hasn’t gotten him killed, and the best – and justabout only – way of making him see sense is to screw him into themattress. I’d give that a try.”

Leiapunctuates her statement with a shot. Another stormtrooper goes down,but Lando can’tconcentrate on that. He’s taken completely aback by the crassnessof Leia’s words. The blushing princess, the favoured portrayal ofthe holo news even now, when she’s been outed as a Rebellionfighter for four years, is a complete fiction, he knows that. Butthis is something else entirely. “What?” Lando stutters,completely unsure of what he just heard.

Surelythe Princess of Alderaan didn’tjust tell Lando she��d screwed Wedge Antilles.

“Ittends to make him relax. And if it doesn’t, then you get a damngood night of sex out of the ordeal, trust me. You’ll feel a littlemore charitable towards him after that.”

Landofurrows his brow. “Yourcoping strategy for dealing with one of your senior pilots is to fuckhim?” The Alliance is hardly known for its conventional rules, butthis is beyond that. They are still a formal military, and shit likethis doesn’t fly.

“Offthe record off course,” Leia clarifies. “The Alliance neverformerly encoded fraternisation regs, for which a million youngsoldiers offer their unending thanks.” Lando had, briefly, been oneof them. But no one has yet held his attention for more than apassing second. Except Wedge. Who doesn’t seem to be a big fan ofLando. Which is Lando’s lot in life, honestly, to fall for men whohaven’t got a jot of interest in return. Honestly, Lando wouldsettle for working out how to have a conversation with the guy. “I’mfairly certain Luke gave it a shot when he was Wedge’s CO, and Monhas a soft spot for him and I wouldn’t like to say she hadn’t—”

Landoremembers his aborted attempt at flirtation with the Chancellor.She’sa fine woman, one who Lando would be delighted to be invited to herbed, but she made it clear enough that she wasn’t interested. Hedoubts that she goes around inviting junior pilots to her bed.

“Idon’t want to know how to screw him, I just wanted to know how tomake him less ascerbic! Or talk to me in the first place!” Landothrows his hands up in frustration.

“Sex.”Leia is chirpy and unrepentant in her answer. She takes a moment tosurvey the ground below, where a new legion of stormtroopers isslowly gathering. “Better get going, or we’ll really be introuble.”

Landofollows her lead.

It’sanother two weeks before Lando sees Wedge again. In that time, hedoes manage to verify that he was entirely wrong about the idea thatMon Mothma is above inviting junior pilots into her bed, because itappears she’s currently sleeping with WesJansonof all people. Lando tries another piece of flirting on her, but it’sshot down immediately; it seems that her tastes run very specificallyto dark-haired men in orange, and whilst Lando can also appreciatethe look, it’s not something he wants to try for himself.

Wedgemight not have much time for Lando, but the other Rogues don’tmind him, so Lando’s invited to participate in the card game thatthey’ve got going on in the corner of the pilots’ rec room. Themood is miserly. A report crossed Lando’s desk that morning; theRogues lost a pair of pilots in their last mission, and a resignationhad followed. It had cited the Rogues’ dangerous working practices,the increased jeopardy that came with being a Rogue, and well. Landodoesn’t think it went over well.

Mostof the Rogues are hardly the best Sabacc players in the world, butthey’repassable. A bottle of something makes its way surreptitiously roundthe table. Lando declines it after taking a whiff. He wants no partof that toxic mess, that smells like it might have been brewed in anengine.

Oneby one the Rogues fall away, bowing out as their credit lines runout, until it’sjust Wedge and Lando playing. Wedge’s strategy is gettingincreasingly erratic, risky, a contrast to the man Lando has observedin battle. He mentions something to that effect, and Wedge merelyshrugs.

“We’reas likely as not to die tomorrow, so why not?” The words are thatof a man with a maudlin sense of his own mortality. He lays one finalcard down; his daring has paid off. Lando knows he can’t beat it.

“You’vesurvived this long, don’t be so quick to throw that life of yoursaway.” Lando tosses his cards on the table, face down, in defeat.“See, you won this one.”

Wedgeclears the credit chits to his side of the table, without theslightest hint of satisfaction. “Agame of Sabacc ain’t half as hard as surviving a battle.”

“Oddsare about the same.”

“Yeah,shit.” Lando raises his eyebrows. That’s not the Corellian spirit– how many times has he had to sit through Han’s ‘don’t tellme the odds’ speech? More than a few times, he’s thought that alittle more attention wouldn’t go amiss, but there’s somethingabout Wedge’s tone that unsettles Lando. “Yeah yeah.” Wedgewaves his hand with a false display of casualness that is so utterlyunlike him that the hair on Lando’s neck stands on edge. “Betrayingmy fellow countrymen by worrying in the first place. Well fuck them.This galaxy could use a few more people who give a shit.”

Wedge’seyes are dark, just a little hazy, and it’s clear that the alcohol,along with everything else, has gone a little to his head. He’snever been this candid in Lando’s presence before. “How about youdrop this maudlin attitude that you’ve been wearing all eveningthen, the one where you’re pretending that you don’t care aboutanything, because you aren’t fooling me, command, or yoursquadron.”

Leaningback in his chair, the barest hint of a smirk crosses Wedge’sface. The rigidity is gone, in its place – spurred on by the drink,no doubt – is a looseness that doesn’t quite suit. This Wedgecould be a whole hell of a lot of trouble in a completely differentway. “Yes sir,” he says with enough cheek to make even theeasiest-going senior officer stand on edge. “Didn’t know youcared so damn much. Should have joined us sooner, maybe, if you’regonna lecture me on my attitude – what right do you have to tell meshit? I’ve been through the wars, in this war—”

“Idid the best I could to keep the people I was responsible for safe.”Lando cuts Wedge off with a certainty that surprises even him. Heknows his words are right, the truth settling within him. He did allhe could. And Wedge is just trying to get a rise out of him, andLando won’t meet him. “And now I fight alongside you to try andbring them a galaxy in which they can be safe, and part of that meansensuring you are capable of doing your job.”

“I’mone of the best pilots in the fleet.”

“You’reno good to anyone if you’re constantly assuming you’ll go down inflames. That’s not bravery, or knowing the odds Wedge, it’s—”suicide.The word dies on Lando’stongue as Wedge stiffens.

Itwas the wrong thing to say. Almost say.

Itwas accurate, and that terrifiesLando.

“I’mnot—” Wedge can’t quite finish his denial. He can’t say it.It wouldn’t be true.

IfLando could prove it, if the Alliance wasn’tso desperate for Wedge’s skills, Lando would have him off theflight roster in an instant. But there is a war on, and that meansthey have to live with things that aren’t ideal.

“Forgetit.” Lando stands up, clearing the scant remainders of his creditback into his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. Go to bed, sleep it off,get up tomorrow and go back to being an X-Wing ace, not whatever thisis.” Lando gestures at Wedge. “I don’t like you like this.”

Lando’sexit route takes him past Wedge, and Wedge catches his wrist in astrong grip as he attempts to leave. “Does that mean you like me?”Wedge is on his feet suddenly, in Lando’s space, eyes shining thatdark colour that Lando is never sure about, and Lando doesn’t havetime to form a response before Wedge kisses him.

Hegasps into the kiss, in shock and surprise, and Wedge’stongue flicks into his mouth. Lando can taste the alcohol on histongue, cheap rotgut in an idiotic Corellian pilot’s mouth, Landohas played this game before and it has not ended well. In lettingWedge kiss him, he’s making a grave error in judgement, the sort ofthing which is stupidly reckless.

Wedgebreaks away. He regards Lando for a single, too-long moment, beforestepping back and releasing his grip. Lando is still too surprised todo anything. Another moment, and Wedge is walking away, and Landodoesn’tknow what he’s supposed to think.

“Whatthe hell did you say to Wedge?” Leia hisses at Lando in passing.

“Nothing!”is Lando’s reply, but he’s aware of the futility of it; you’dhave to be a fool to not notice that Wedge has tightened up recently,coming into his own as the commanderof Rogue Squadron, not just a fill-in who doesn’tthink he’s supposed to be there.

Leia’smouth pulls into a wicked smile. “Ahh.” There’s an assumptionthere, that Lando has followed the advice Leia gave him, and it’sfaulty; but Lando has thought about it, can’t stop thinking aboutit, ever since Wedge kissed him.

Sohe lets her be, because honestly, she’snot wrong. Screwing Wedge into the mattress probably would do him theworld of good.

It’searly morning – or at least, it is by ship’s time, not that thatmeans anything to anyone really. Lando is taking one last look roundhis office, attempting to commit the whole thing to memory beforehe’s cast out into the desert wastes, when Wedge slips round hisdoor. “I hear they’re sending you to Tatooine,” he says.

Information,barely a week old, had confirmed that Han was located in Jabba’spalace. It was from a reliable source, but Lando and Luke knew enoughabout Jabba that mounting an attack without inside information was afool’s errand; so, it’s Lando’s job, with the leastrecognisable characteristics of the four of them, to infiltrate. Heleaves in three hours. “If we’re gonna get Han back, someoneneeds to go, and it might as well be me.”

Wedgenods. He does it like he understands the responsibility of goingafter your best friend and dragging them back from hell itself. Maybehe’sdone that. Lando doesn’t really know him well enough to say.“Tattoine’s a shit hole.”

“I’maware.”

Uninvited,Wedge takes the chair in front of Lando’sdesk, swivelling it around so h can rest his arms on the back of it.“Yeah, Luke will have given you the salient points, but he grew upthere. He can’t really explain what it’s like. Whatever he’stold you, it’s about a thousand times worse.”

FromLuke’sdescription – along with the scant information in the Alliance datafiles – Tatooine is only a step away from hell. But in some ways,so was Cloud City, built in the upper atmosphere above a planet ofTibanna gas. Tatooine is a habitable world, without any modifications– well, except the need to bring a bundle of vaporators along withyou – and there is food, water in the atmosphere, and it’s notlike the core of the planet wants to eat you whole. There are worseplaces in the galaxy, and Lando’s visited a bunch of them. Histolerance may be higher than the average person’s. “And you’rean expert?”

Fromwhat Lando knows, Wedge hasn’teven been to Tatooine, but he suspects he’s wrong about that too.“Not an expert, but Booster took me there once as a kid. Well,thirteen. He said I should see a bit more of the Galaxy. It was hell.I swore after that week that Booster was certifiable.”

“Booster?”There’s a man who Lando has heard of, who had dealings on Tatooine,but he can’t be the man who Wedge is talking about.

“Terrik.”Or he is.

Landolets out a low whistle. “Well,turns out there’s something interesting about you after all. How’dyou get tangled up with Booster as a kid and not end up a smuggler?”

“Hewas a family friend; my parents would have killed him if he evertried to recruit me.” Wedge is surprisingly nonchalant about hisconnection to one of Corellia’s famed smugglers. “And who said Ididn’t?”

Landofiles that piece of information away for later. “So,have you got anything useful to tell me, or have you just come hereto inform me that Tatooine is going to be hell to live with?”

Thatwas not the only reason Wedge came. He does turn out to have amoderate amount of semi-useful information, gleamed from his ownexperiences and from stories from Luke, and another pilot he knewonce, by the name of Biggs. Some of them even make Lando laugh. Thathelps. Dread has settled in his stomach, ever since he and the othersdecided that Lando needed to go to Tatooine, and Wedge’ssmile and quick words help lift it. It’s still going to be bad, butLando can forget, for just a little while.

AfterWedge finishes recounting a tale, he cocks his head at Lando. Hebites his lip, looking almost speculative, then asks: “DidI kiss you last week?”

Landojust – only just – keeps his mouth dropping from surprise. Hetries to play it cool. “Youdid. Was it that forgettable?”

Wedgeregards Lando with no small degree of scrutiny. Finally, he sighs.“Notat all. Thought I might have dreamt it though.” Lando loses all thewords he was going to say. Is that an admission that Wedge wanted thekiss, that it wasn’t some spur of the moment thing? “Look, I knowthat I have god-awful timing, but can we try that again when I’mnot drunk off my face and in a depression spiral?”

What—

Landoblinks several times at Wedge in quick succession. He’sstill there. Lando isn’t imagining things. But he heard right;Wedge wants to kiss him. “You really do have awful timing,” Landosays, because he is leaving,and who knows if he’llsurvive Jabba’s clutches, or if Wedge will still be alive when hecomes back. But they’ve still got a little time, so Lando standsup, making his way round the desk so he can drag Wedge out of hischair and tip his head up and kiss him.

Asoft moan emerges from Wedge’smouth, as he clutches his hands in the soft material of Lando’sshirt. Lando pushes him back against the desk, sliding a thingbetween Wedge’s legs and wondering why on earth he didn’t trythis sooner. Wedge’s mouth is sweet under his, kissing back with aquiet fierceness that Lando didn’t expect. It’s completelydifferent from their last kiss, which was uncertain and full of adegree of wild desperation on Wedge’s part. This time, it’smutual, wanted and appreciated.

Whenthey break the kiss, Wedge stares at Lando for a long moment,observing his entire face. A flush has coloured his cheeks, Landoknows that, almost embarrassing but not because he likes Wedge, morethan he ever thought he would, and he’sat a point in his life where that’s okay with him. “I know mytiming’s rotten,” Wedge whispers. His head fits into the crook ofLando’s neck almost perfectly. “How much time do we have beforeyou leave?”

Landochecks his chrono. “Notenough.” He strokes a hand down Wedge’s jawline; it’s sharp andstrong, and there’s the barest hint of stubble in a few placeswhere Wedge must have been in a rush that morning. A finger beneathWedge’s chin tilts his mouth up to meet Lando’s again. Landotries to memorise Wedge’s mouth, his lips, his taste; this entiremoment. It’ll be something to keep to himself, a memory totreasure, to remind him that there’s the potential for somethinggood in his life. “Force.” He exhales, lips not breaking apartfrom Wedge’s, breathing the words into his mouth. “You betterstill be here when I get back Wedge.”

“I’lltry and stay safe.” It’s all he can promise. Anything more wouldbe a lie, and Lando knows it. Wedge slips a hand round Lando’swaist, pulling him in close. “I’ll try. I’m not fucking aroundwhen I say it’s dangerous.”

“Iknow you’re not.” Lando sweeps a hand through Wedge’s hair;it’s surprisingly soft. “I just like to get a chance to see it…”He trails off. However he was going to end that sentence is too manywords, too soon. So he kisses Wedge again, silently counting down thelast minutes he gets to spend with this man he unexpectedly adores.

“Yeah,”Wedge mutters into Lando’s mouth, and maybe, just maybe, they’lllive to see it.

Alive– though only barely – Lando flies back to the Alliance fleet onthe Millennium Falcon, alongside Chewie, Leia, and an unfrozen Han,who seems to be recovering his wits at a pace. The Falcon docks withHome One, and Lando says his goodbyes to the rest of them quickly –Han needs to see a proper medbay before they all debrief, so he’sgot time – and heads to the Hangar.

RogueSquadron’sX-Wings are in the hangar, twelve of them, none looking the worse forwear. Lando breathes a sigh of relief. It’s no guarantee, ofcourse, but it’s a good omen. He rounds a corner and finds Wedge,sitting on a crate, consulting a data pad, biting his lower lip infrustration. A couple of the other Rogues are dotted about thehangar, decompressing in their various individual ways, but Landoonly has eyes for Wedge.

Wedgelifts his eyes at the sound of Hobbie’sindignant cry as Janson tackles him to the floor, and catches sightof Lando. He ignores his pilots, sets the datapad down and slips offthe box he’s sitting on, making his way over to Lando. Lando slideshis hands in his pockets, attempting to look nonchalant – he can’tlet his entire reputation go – but he can feel his mouth workingits way into a giddy smile, because force damn it, he really doeslike Wedge, and he’s missedthebloke, and it’sjust a delight to properly see him.

Wedge’space is just a little faster than ordinary; he stops a foot clear ofLando, appraising him. “You don’t look too badly off, for someonewho spent a couple of month’s in Jabba’s palace,” he says.

“Yeahwell, I’m pretty glad that Jabba’s dead.” Lando wants to reachout and touch, pull Wedge close. But Wedge is maintaining a distanceand they’re in front of not just Rogue Squadron, but dozens ofsupport personnel, and they never did have a conversation aboutwhether they wanted to make their relationship public.

Wedgeraises his eyebrows. “Dead?”

“ThePrincess. Things went a little awry.” Lando makes a motion with hishand, waving the details away. Wedge is familiar enough with theantics of Skywalker and co. “Glad to be back. Any hope of somepeace and quiet and a chance to catch up?”

“I’mbooked to run sims with the kids in half an hour, but my evening isclear and yours.” Wedge looks a little bashful, but Lando smiles inappreciation. That’ll give him a chance to get properly clean andhave some sleep. “And peace and quiet ain’t on the radar. There’sbeen no formal announcement, but something’s definitely up; Iexpect they’ll brief you on it first chance they get.”

Landogroans, just a little, though he didn’treally expect anything else. “It’s not the welcome home you mighthave wanted, but I’ve got a bottle of whiskey in my quarters andI’ve been looking for an opportunity to share it,” Wedgesuggests.

“Darling,”the endearment falls off Lando’s tongue with accustomed ease, butWedge’s eyes widen like he wasn’t expecting it, “your companyis the only welcome home I wanted.”

“Oh.”Wedge steps forward, into Lando’s space and says; “In that case.”His hands move to the collar of Lando’s cape, and he pulls the maninto a kiss. It’s a little rough, and they still haven’t quiteworked out the height difference – Wedge still seems unaccustomedto kissing people taller than him – but it’s niceand honestly? Lando really could get used to this. There’shooting echoing behind them – probably Wedge’s pilots, but Landocouldn’t give a fuck right now – he just concentrates on kissingWedge, long and slow, taking his chance because who knows if therewill be another, Lando is lucky to get this homecoming.

Theypart; Lando strokes a hand down Wedge’sjaw and looks him over properly. He’s smiling, eyes bright, and helooks a world away from the man who Lando left a couple of monthsago, who had darkness bleeding at the edge of his psyche. Landodoesn’t dare to hope that Wedge is completely shot of that suicidalideation, but he looks happier; Lando won’t have to worry abouthim, anymore than he already would, with whatever this thing that iscoming is. “It’s good to see you,” Lando whispers, leaning backin for another kiss.

Wedgeresponds by wrapping his arms around Lando’sneck and pointedly ignoring the loud jeers from his gathered pilots,and yeah; Lando likes this.

#spookykingdomstarlight #wedge antilles #lando calrissian #star wars #swfic #myfic #mine #ficlet #this is 5k it's not really a ficlet anymore OOPS

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yuki-d-raizel-blog · 7 years

Text

Believe Me

Chapter 4/??

Relationship: Rin x Reader (Your/Name) , (Full/Name)

Summit: Inside the class there was the same confusion of always, Rin and Bon were fighting over something stupid, Shima and Konekomaru were trying to stop them while Shiemi and Izumo were laughing for the scene. Everything was as always. Until the bell rang. The Exwires notice that the professor was late, but nobody knew why. When the door opened… A new student arrived to the True Cross Academy. She’s smart and strong, still a quiet and solitary person. Moved by a strange feeling, Rin would like to know her, help her if he can but nobody would think that that student was someone so… special.

---

Mephisto and Yukio walk in and notice your presence right away. You’re alone, curled up in the corner. You don’t wear a suit, anything that can be comfortable for the lesson.

“She’ll skip again.” thinks Yukio staring at you, “We will be on mission soon, I need to see what she can do.”

The students come out with their suits and sit on the ground, waiting for instructions. Rin and Shiemi notice that you’re somehow sad, but something is blocking them to come near and talk to you. Shura arrives with a loud hi, and runs straight to Mephisto and Yukio asking the topics of the day. The two men say that today you must do something in a way or an another, so the woman comes into action.

<<(F/N).>> she’s calling you, <<Why don’t you ever do gymnastics? These lessons are also important, they’re part of your training.>>

“What a pain is this bitch.” you stand up and go near the edge of the zone where all the students wait, <<I’ve never said that these lessons are useless, ma’am. My behavior will affect my grades, I’m aware of it, but I still don’t care. Please start->>

<<What are you afraid of (Y/N)-san?>> Mephisto walks toward you, <<Please tell me.>>

<<…I don’t want to hurt anyone. My powers are powerful, I could hurt my classmates or teachers.>>

<<I’m here for this (Y/N)-san.>> the director won’t give up, <<Do you have your weapons with you? And->>

<<Of course I have my swords.>> you’ve understand that against that man you can’t win with words, <<But can I join the lesson even with my battle outfit?>>

<>

“Another pain in the ass. Ah, why am I here with these people by the way?” <<Yes sir.>>

After a while, all eyes are laid on your darkish clothes. Your arms are full of black bandages, from fingers to shoulders, a scarf hides the neck, and your swords are laid on your left side. They look like katanas, and their colors are so bright. The first one is painted in a deep blue with beautiful silver decorations. It has the hilt covered with fabric to make it more resistant during the future battles. The second one is colored with a bright white, golden refinements and some pendants hanging on its hilt. At each step, the swords fit perfectly your curves and resonate with each other with an hypnotic sound.

<<Now that (Y/N)-san is back, we’ll start the lesson.>> Yukio takes a few steps forward to have the attention of the class, <<First, choose a partner to deal the following tests.>>

You’re are ready to do the whole training by yourself, but Rin pats your shoulder.

<<Do you want to pair with me?>> he’s asking with his usual and cheerful smile.

<<….You’re not mad?>>

<<Mh?>> he sits next to you, <<Should I?>>

<> you look away, you don’t want to show this side of you to anyone, especially to him, <<If I did something wrong, tell me. I’ll apologize.>>

<<You didn’t, stupid. You protected me, why I should be mad at you? You were cool, and I’m thankful to you. You’re the first one who took quickly my defense despite knowing who I am. Aren’t you afraid of me?>>

<<That’s my line.>> the girl replies with a forced smile, <<If I’m not a problem, I’ll gladly accept your offer.>>

<<Really?! Yay!>> Rin approaches your face with happy eyes, <<When lessons are over, do you want to come to my dorm? I’d like to end today’s explanations and if you could help me with my homework. A-am I asking too much?>>

<<Haha, are you serious?>> you laugh at his invitation, <<Why you asked me that so politely? Of course, I help you, don’t worry.>>

“Her laugh is so cute! I made her laugh… I want do it again and again!”

<<But can I come in?>> you questioned a little embarrassed, <<It’s a male dorm after all.>>

<<Ah don’t worry, in that building there are only me and Yukio.>>

<> when you two finished to whisper, Shura explains the lesson.

<<Boys, listen to me! You’ll do a hurdle race against each other. You can use whatever you take advantage of. The first who will reach the end, will be the winner.>> pressing a switch, the arena is turned into a hurdles track. There are walls, balance and agility tests, puddles…

<<Then everyone, these are the matches! Ein, zwei, drei!>> a pink smoke comes out from Mephisto’s hat and shows the matches. You and Rin are the last ones and your opponents are Bon and Izumo.

Professors are noting down everyone’s abilities, lacks, strength and the time spent to reach the end. After a pressing waiting, finally it’s your turn. With a deep breath, you and your teammate set to the starting line. Rin quickly notices that you’re very uneasy.

<<Don’t worry, I won’t pull out my sword.>> he says a bit worried, <<We can do it!>>

<<Do you trust me?>> you asked with a strange aura around, <>

<<W-what?! Hell no!>>

<<Believe me. Everything will be fine.>> you take his hand, feeling something inside you, “His hand is big and so warm. I was right, he’s a good person. I like him- WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST-?!”

<<A-are you sure (Y/N)?>> he’s ready to accept your idea, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.

<<Yeah. I trust you Rin, and I’m not afraid of you or your powers. So, let me use them. Will you let me do it? If you don’t, I won’t push you.>>

“She’s not afraid of my powers…? This girl is really something… I can’t lose or I’ll never win her heart!” <>

<<Ready? GO!>>

The four students start running to the first obstacle, and Izumo immediately attacks with her foxes. The two creatures stop as soon as you reach out to your sword, and decide to hit you with something else that isn’t their body. A white tornado walks towards you, but for the blackish girl isn’t a problem at all. Swinging with her swords, the mass of air dissolves into nothingness, leaving everyone astonished.

<<Wow… How she did that?>> Rin keeps running after you, he never thought you were so powerful.

<<Don’t lose concentration!>> you bite your finger and paint a piece of paper put in your forearm bandages, <<Rin, get ready!>> from the paper overflow a strong smell of sulfur. From the dense clouds, three ugly dogs come out, attack and defeat Uke and Mike very quickly.

Shura and Yukio have wide open eyes.

<<Did she summon three Naberius at once?! Are you kidding me?!>> exclaims the woman, while Yukio is still looking at all your moves.

<<She’s smart, has good agility and excellent grades.>> he says, <>

<<But instead, you’ll have to recap Okumura-sensei.>> Mephisto’s words are the fuse for victory, <<Haha, (Y/N) is different from anyone. She can even beat you two at once. If she fights alone, is quite strong. Almost like a ferocious beast.>>

Bon defeats the Naberius with sutras, but this is exactly what you wanted.

<<Rin, now!>> moving aside all his insecurities, he pulls out his sword, releasing his powers.

<<You two, sto->>

<<Please do not interfere.>> the principal blocks the two teachers, <<She knows what she’s doing and the young boy trusts her. I’m here in any case, so do not worry.>>

The last obstacle is that huge wall. Nobody can overcome it with a single and simple jump… You understand that since you saw it.

“It will be difficult since I’ve never fought with someone… I hope he gets my hint.” you two stop right away, this time, Izumo e Bon are cooperating. Rin lowers the blade, he doesn’t want to use it against his friends, so you move in between to protect him, <<Come on chicken head! Show me what you can do!>>

<<Stop call me like that, damn it!>> Bon charges but with a groundbreaking kick, you put him on the floor in a moment, <<Fuck! Again?!>>

<<Haha, you’re quite an idiot, aren’t ya?>> with a very quick sprint, you’re in front of Izumo who doesn’t understand how can you move so fast, <<And you’re too selfish.>> a movement of a true master of weapons, destroys Izumo’s evocation circles in thousand pieces.

Both disarmed, they try to assault Rin aware that he’ll never face them with his powers. You run to his side and with a powerful kick to Bon’s face, you send him towards Izumo, and they both fall into a puddle.

<<Fuckin’ morons.>>

“Wow, the hell was that?! So freacking strong! I want to learn those moves! All of them!” Rin approaches you with an high-five, and with a smile he asks what he supposes to do now.

<<Okay, touch my blades.>> you close his Kurikara between your swords and slowly concentrate on them, <<Don’t be afraid of hurting me. Your flames are telling me your feelings. Relax a bit more.>>

<<Y-you can talk with flames?>>

<<Haha, no idiot!>> you laugh and open one eyes for reassure him, <<Believe me. We’ll win this round.>>

“She’s so relaxing… All my fears are quickly fading away…” the fire that used to burn violently, is now tamed and burn slowly, <<And now?>>

<<Image they’re moving on my blades.>> you say with a calm voice, you don’t want to rush things, he can take all the time he needs, <<After that, we’ll destroy the wall that blocks our path.>>

“I can go everywhere with (Y/N) by my side. She’s not scared by my powers, for her I’m important even if I’m half-demon. She’s beautiful, smart, kind and strong. I can do it! I won’t hurt her, she can accept my true self…”

Slowly, blue flames surround you, burning aggressively. A bluish light illuminates the room, and with a smile, you both move away by separating your own weapons.

<<You must be joking!>> everyone is paralyzed, how can a human have Satan’s flame and doesn’t get hurt? It’s not possible!

<> Yukio moves a step forward to see you and Rin better, <<She’s controlling the flames?! Impossible!>>

<<Hahahaha she’s wonderful!>> Mephisto laughs with excitement, <<She’s a flower bloomed during a bloody war. To survive, she has learned to not depend on others, and for that reason she was excluded from everyone. Her strength was born from the desperate desire to live and find what she was looking for.>>

---Continue...

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

#rin okumura #yukio okumura #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #scenarios #fanfictions #anime #manga

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