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suki-daydreams · 7 months

Text

Until Next Time

summary : gojo and baker reader meet again

notes : this is pt. 2!! pt. 1 is Umbrella link

info : past arc gojo x baker reader, gn reader (if I do use any prounouns, LMK!!), soft gojo, gojo is stupidly in love (but doesn't know it yet), fluff

IF GOJO SEEMS OOC - he is still processing/accepting what happened so he's a chill in this one, but he slowly is gaining he regular self back- thanks to you

UNEDITED

___

Gojo let out a long groan as he stretched his arm, he had just left the airport after an exhausting mission overseas sent by Yaga. It's been a week since the incident with you, and yet you never left his mind. All he wanted to do was meet you again.

He had taken a picture of the shop name, he was 75% sure you worked there.

"it's been a couple hours since they were made- it's usually better fresh, but I hope you enjoy them either way!" You smiled, then waved goodbye at him.

His intuition was good- you knew when the batch of desserts had been made, that's all he needed to know. He brought out his phone and began to type in the shop name on his GPS. With that he pulled up the location and began to make his way towards your bakery.

He stared at the store in shock, the stairs you found on him slumped on was right in front of your bakery. He must've had his guard down because he didn't even sense you when you came up behind him that day.

With a deep breath he pushed the door and made his way inside. A sweet scent of cupcakes, cake, kikufuku, castella, any dessert- you name it, immediately hit his nose. It didn't overlap each other, the smells weren't too strong. It was a nice smell.

He was also the only one there, well who goes to a bakery at 4 pm? The sun was still out and shining, the golden lighting was beautiful hitting all the plants and art decorations in your shop.

"Be right with you!"

His heart jumped, your voice. Then all of a sudden, he felt nervous. Would you still remember him? How would you remember him? His palms started getting sweaty. Why was he nervous? Why is it getting hot? He should've just gone home.

The great Gojo Satoru- is sweating over your voice? Cursed spirits must envy you.

You came out from behind a curtain while dusting yourself clean, "hello, what can I get for you today?" You said, then looked up at him.

"Hi, remember me?" He asked with a sheepish smile.

Your brows furrowed at the statement and tilted your head to get a good look at his features. He didn't miss how your eyes gleamed back up at him. Hair as white as snow, sky blue eyes, shimmering pale skin, glossy lips- who was he again? He looks familiar.

Then suddenly it all clicked together and you snapped your fingers, "oh! You're that gloomy kid on the stairs," you said, he frowned. That's the impression he left on you?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said pouting and waved his hand off, slightly hurt at the word you used to described him.

You smiled and leaned forward, "how have you been?"

"I'm doing fine. Thanks for helping me that day," Gojo said, "I forgot your umbrella, so I'll bring it back next time."

Your eyes softened at the 'next time'.

He cleared his throat, "I should've offered to walk you home or something after you gave me your umbrella and desserts."

You waved him off, "no, no. It's quite alright," You said with a smile, "you don't need to worry about me."

"Well, I did feel better thanks to you and you walked home alone in the pouring rain," he said, then you laughed.

"I really don't mind! I like the rain."

Gojo noticed how you said 'I like the rain', and avoided saying: "I like being alone." Well, who is he kidding? Of course you wouldn't say that on a second encounter. But, still, who would like being alone?

He smiled and shook off his thoughts, "how can I make it up to you?"

"Well," you said then pointed at the menu, "you can start off with telling me what you would like."

He glanced up, "there's a lot of options."

"Yep! More variety, it's better like that."

He hummed, "let's see... I'll get..." and gazed at the menu more, his blue irises scanning over all the delicious dessert names, "one of everything."

Your mouth opened in shock, "really?"

"Yep, they all sound so good, I'd rather just try all of them at once," he said.

"Okay," you said putting in the order on the monitor, "then next time, you can tell me which one you like best with your honest feedback on every single one of those treats, okay?"

"I bet they're all good anyway."

You huffed, "you never know! You make something and eat it and think 'wow, this is really good!' But, then you give it to someone to try and they think, 'eh, it's alright.' Not everyone's taste buds are the same," you said.

He took out his black card and you turned away to ready the boxes to pack all the treats in. Gojo slightly pouted, he wanted to you to see his black card. Maybe if you did see it, you would shower him with praise, he could imagine it already.

"Wow! Is that a black card?!"

"That's so cool!"

"You must be rich!"

He wanted your attention and praise

Gojo tucked his card back into his wallet and shoved it down his pocket. The receipt began to print and you stood back up, it was going to take a while, "anyways, what have you been up to?" You asked.

He shrugged, "I just came back from a school trip overseas."

"Oh, that's cool!" You said, "I've never been anywhere outside of Japan." You looked over his shoulder outside, then looked back at him, "so... where's your class?"

"I went by myself," he said. Why was he being so honest? He could've just said, "they already went home" but no. He just spewed out the truth with you.

"The parents didn't want to sign the permission slips, huh?" You said with a giggle, grabbing the receipt.

He smiled, if only you knew.

If only you knew, who he really was, what he did for a living, how many people he has beaten to a pulp, how many people he has saved, what's really going on behind his life, all the dead bodies he's seen, all the curses he's defeated with his amazing technique, what his eye's really do, if only.. he could tell you.

Someday, he thinks, someday..

"You're order might take a little while, so I'll get it out to you as soon as I can!" You said, handing him the receipt.

"Nah, it's fine. Take your time," he said, not bothering to glance at it and shoved it in his pocket.

You then disappeared behind the curtain and he began to hear rummaging. He took the time to walk around, it wasn't big shop, but it also wasn't small. His eye's scanned over and observed all the art pieces, plants, and lights decorated in your bakery. The tables and chairs were smartly placed around the shop and well organized.

He didn't know how long he waited, but he heard you huff from behind the curtain and looked over. You were carrying two big bags out behind the curtain, "here you go, sir," you said, lifting them up to the counter.

"Thanks," he said, reaching over and lifted them up with ease, he carried both bags with one hand, while you panted for air. He couldn't help but smile at your tired form. You fixed your composure and stood back up, you took something out of your pocket and handed him a lollipop.

"Thank you! And, make sure you don't eat all of those at once!" You said, he raised a brow.

"Why not?"

"You'll get a stomach ache, silly! And maybe vomit," you said, shaking your head. He chuckled. "Refrigerate them overnight!"

"Shouldn't I just eat them all at once? I thought you said they're better fresh," he said, you blushed.

"This is different!"

"I know, just messing with you," he winked, making your heart skip a beat.

He's cute

Unwrapping the lollipop with one hand, he shoved it in his mouth and tossed it into the trash, then turned around, "see you next time."

You waved, "thanks for shopping here, bye!"

He turned back around suddenly making you stop. His eyes were warm and he had a small, soft smile on his face, "thank you for your umbrella."

You couldn't help but grin, "no problem! Until next time, mister!"

He waved goodbye with his back turned towards you and walked through the door. Your heart was still racing and your face flushed. Oh, you were already looking forward to your next encounter.

~ end

BONUS

Gojo glanced at the receipt while munching on a mochi he had gotten from your bakery. Then it hit him and he practically choked on the dessert. He sat up quickly to cough out.

Looking at the receipt once again, he wasn't hallucinating... you gave him everything... half off.

He couldn't help but smile and flop back down on his bed. You were going to be the death of him.

more to come

___

Gege was asked, "since Gojo is aware of his good looks doesn't he want a lover?" and Gege responded with, "I don't see gojo being sincere to a particular woman"

it was translated as, "I don't see Gojo settling down with a particular women."

what he actually meant by that is- he doesn't see Gojo letting himself become vulnerable with a women.

but, I also 100% think Gojo would be a whore too yknow

so this is all about Gojo letting himself become vulnerable with you.

I promise that Gojo will turn back to his normal hyper self!

The thing is, I don't always see Gojo as a energetic chaotic person. He has moments where he's calm, he talks when he needs to/wants to, but he's also pretty hyper and funny when he wants to be

SO he's going to be pretty chill in my writing with energetic moments

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk gojo #gojo x reader fluff #jjk satoru #satoru #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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boggleoflight · 9 months

Note

Acceptance

acceptance - muse a kisses muse b’s forehead and lingers

This one got kind of long so I'll stick it in under a read-more lol

---

The silence was perhaps the strangest part of G’raha’s waking.

The space they now occupied was nebulous. Marked by everything that had happened, by the years that had passed, it was almost difficult to see him here again, as young as when they had separated but with the weight of two worlds still heavy in his eyes. He was weary beyond the waking of a long sleep, and F’yllis mirrored his slouch from her space at his bedside, unable to find the words for the turmoil that roiled beneath her sternum.

She loved him. That was as clear to her as it had been those years ago, when the doors closed and she was left at once without him. As clear to her as it had been when she let herself truly see him again atop Mt. Gulg. But fear lingered, at his readiness to die and the nearness of the grief she was almost forced to endure again at his hand. His hand in hers, the warmth of it living and real in her fingers, and hers trembled in a way he must have felt, because he ran his thumb over them in a slow arc.

“Will you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asked, some of the scant words they had shared thus far, and his voice was just that bit rough in the way of any man freshly woken.

She lifted her head to face him proper and found the familiarity of him breathtaking. Unmarred by crystal, hair that same vibrant red untouched by the white of years and strain framing it where it was loose from his braid—he seemed almost too real. The vivid truth behind the dreams she had tried to push away over the years, he was exactly as she had remembered him then, only... changed, in a way that felt difficult to parse even in knowing the exact how and why. In this, too, she loved him.

“How do you feel?” she asked in reply. It had been all of a handful of bells since he opened his eyes and she carried him from the Tower, a handful more before Krile was confident that his soul and memories settled themselves in place without rejection. He should not have been sitting up at all, but he insisted, and F’yllis could not find it in her to argue with him.

“Ragged.” He graced her with a small smile, a squeeze of the hand. “And you?” She smiled in return, weary herself, pulling his hand closer to her. She rested it in her lap to drape the other over as well.

“The same as always.” His brow pinched just enough for a line to form, even as his smile did not fade. Her own curved deeper, and she brought his hand up to her mouth. She pressed it to his knuckles—not quite a kiss, only pressure—and his brows lifted just a degree. “Full glad to see you.”

A sound, cross of sigh and laugh, escaped him, one ear twitching just the once before settling again.

“And I you.” His smile faded then, eye contact wavering in blinks until it slid to the floor between them. His tail flicked at the tip, light thud against the mattress. “Yllis, I—”

“Stop,” she said, squeezing his hand tighter. He looked back up to her, surprised at the firmness of the tone she softened in an instant. She lowered her head, pressing his knuckles to her forehead. “If you mean to apologize, then hush. I’ve heard enough of it.”

It was easier to apologize than to sit together in the reality of what they had undergone. It was easier to chase redemption from each other than turn the page. Her hands still shook, and she tried to exude the forgiveness she felt—it hurt more to be without him than every other thing that had passed, but how to say that when words failed?

She lowered his hand again, and this time she did kiss his knuckles, one at a time, before lifting her head to look him in the eye. He blinked, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Yllis—”

“How fares our patient?” Krile’s voice came with the creak of the door of Dawn’s Respite, and F’yllis’s hands returned to her lap, G’raha’s still clasped with them. The two turned to face her as she rounded the curtain, a smile that warmed Krile’s air in the quirk of her lip. “I heard conversation, so I assume the recovery is proceeding apace.”

“Very much so,” replied G’raha, straightening a degree as though to prove it. “I daresay I’m fit to stretch my legs a bit.”

“He’s told me that he is feeling ragged,” F’yllis interjected, silent shake of her shoulders in a laugh at G’raha’s betrayed huff.

“Then best stay put awhile longer.” Krile flashed F’yllis a grin at the soft groan that lifted from G’raha before it mellowed apologetically at a glance to the twined hands. She tipped her head toward the door. “The others were looking for you over tea, Yllis. Nothing urgent, I’m sure it’ll be just a moment.”

F’yllis looked to G’raha, a split second but long enough to see the crestfallen droop of his ears before he corrected himself. Her own went back flat, her own apologetic smile.

“Just a moment,” she echoed, releasing his hands to rest at his knees before standing before him. He craned his neck back to look at her straight and she returned the gaze.

His eyes shone bright, sunset red in the low lamplight, and in it was something she recognized. Something so inherently, intrinsically him, the soft eagerness, the gentleness, the open unwillingness to part. He wanted her to stay just as much as she did, the brief separation out into the Rising Stones seeming like a gulf after the long years apart.

She reached forward, hands—still shaking only slightly—to his cheeks, and the weight of his head settled into her palms, his ears pinning back, those brilliant eyes half-shuttering. This was the man who kept so many secrets? This man with his heart so widely open that she could well see every etching of it? It was, every facet of him, but still the boyish man she knew, who thirsted for adventure and shared her bone-deep need for their mutual company.

She bent at the waist and he straightened to lift to her, her hand sliding into his hair to push it away from his brow. With a barely-audible purr, she pressed her lips to his forehead and lingered there, savoured the living warmth of it. His own purr rumbled, a little rough in its lack of use, and he reached up, held her elbow, rested still.

She loved him. However they moved forward, this she knew.

“Just a moment,” she promised once more as she pulled away. He nodded, begrudging, as she placed his hair back as it was, tresses soft between her fingers.

#yllis #my wol #g'raha tia #wolgraha #i've been fiddling at this one for like three days and i've decided i'm done overthinking it so yeet #my fic

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radiowlet · 2 years

Note

🎵🖋 finch

The Moon Will Sing-The Crane Wives

this song is LITERALLY about finch reflecting on her relationship with sunny post nether arc

after sunny suddenly cuts her off and dies shortly after, finch is left confused and hurt, thinking their relationship had been fine before the nether infection became an issue. but as she thinks back on it, she starts to realize she'd really just been floating along with whatever sunny did. sunny having finch run away with her to dashcon threw her previous plans she'd had for jamcon out the window, and things only got worse when sunny became leader of dashcon and the nether started to spread.

under the cut im going to go on a whole line by line Thing about this because this song is Literally. yeah. its the first song in the post nether arc finch playlist for a Reason

Tell me once again, I could've been anyone, anyone else / Before you made the choice for me

finch could have escaped rainfurrest the way she originally wanted to and could have lead her own con sooner, had sunny not brought her to dashcon

My feet knew the path / We walked in the dark, in the dark / I never gave a single thought where it might lead

finch had snuck off to dashcon to see sunny plenty of times before they ran away, but she never thought things would turn out the way they did. she'd even made a backup plan for jamcon just so the friends she left in rainfurrest would still have a way out. the backup plan was never used.

All those empty rooms, we could've been anywhere, anywhere else / Instead I made a bed with apathy

before she left dashcon to round up anyone who would come with her to jamcon, finch took everything she could carry and burned down her house in dashcon. the first shelter she made herself in where she settled jamcon was barely large enough for herself, let alone her And her new conmates.

My heart knew the weight, ten years worth of dust and neglect / We made our peace with weariness and let it be

i think this one is self explanatory

The moon will sing a song for me, I loved you like the Sun / Bore the shadows that you made with no light of my own / I shine only with the light you gave me / I shine only with the light you gave me

not much to say here either lmao. Finch truly, dearly loved Sunny before things went south and after she dies she becomes a completely different person

Name your courage now / We could've had anything, anything else, instead you hoarded all that's left of me

I take this as referring to how because of the circumstances of everything that happened, finch was unable to properly process. any of it. sunny just suddenly told finch she Never cared about her and then Left and then like 2 hours later before finch had time to process that sunny wound up Dead

Swallowing your doubt, like swords to the pit of my belly

this line would have to be taken a little bit more from a narrator pov than finch's pov just because finch doesnt know Why sunny did what she did but it's. still accurate in that context

sunny knew she was more than likely not going to survive her confrontation with glitch so she cut finch (and others she was close with but this isnt about them) off in hopes of causing less pain when she died (and inadvertantly just made things A Lot Worse)

I want to feel that fire that you kept from me

finch just. wanting sunny back as she remembered her, the kind and loving person she thought she was before the nether spread/infection started

she eventually gets over this but that is a Whole Other Tangent

the rest of the song is repeating lines already talked about so. thats it i just don't know how to end the post lmao

#conconcraftcraft #finch (c4)#sunny

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simplysimpingsimp · 3 years

Note

HI, I LOVE YOUR STORIES SO MUCH!

Especially with Dad!Zenitsu! I also have a small request if you don't mind! Can I ask for something fluffy with Rengoku?

Like, Rengoku just returned from a mission in the Mugen Train, wounded but alive and Reader just runs around him with medication, bandages, just wanting to help him! And maybe small cute confession? If you don't want to or can't do this, it's alright!YOU ARE WONDERFUL, MWAH

Hi hi Ilumin!! Ahhh you’re so sweet TT I’m so glad to hear that you love my stories, that means so much to me !! Of course you can have this request <3 !! Rengoku means so much to me and this request is what I wish would have happened at the end of the Mugen Train arc T^T but anyway! This is a very sweet request :D as always I’m sorry for any mistakes, I will gladly go back and fix them!! I used fem pronouns for this one but if it’s not to your liking then I will gladly go back and change it 0:! It’s no problem at all :D!! And I’m super sorry for taking a while to get to you TT

🔥—————————————————————🔥

🔥 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

🔥 𝚁𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚘𝚔𝚞 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

🔥 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛

🔥 ⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎𝚝𝚠: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎

🔥—————————————————————🔥

Hurriedly she ran to where Rengoku was being taken for his critical injuries to be treated — the butterfly mansion.

She felt no tiredness, neither the burning in her muscles as she ran or the scratches from bushes she cut through to shorten her pathing. Her heavy steps kicked up dirt clouds from the path as she nearly reached the front gate.

Y/n had been out on her own mission away from her usual area around the butterfly mansion as a sort of combat medic where she would treat the injured demon slayers before the kakushi arrived. Bandages and medications were stashed away in her satchel, she was sure he had arrived at the mansion already but she felt that she needed it.

Fearful thoughts raced in her head as she prayed for his safety and that he would be fine by the time she arrived. Tears burned in her eyes as she prayed to any being that he would still be breathing, that it was some sort of sick joke that he was in critical condition.

“Please Kyo, j-just hold on,” she panted out as she reached the gate with tears streaming down her warmed cheeks.

She ran in, as if on cue Tanjiro guiding her to where he was recovering.

Tears rolled down her cheeks in large droplets as she hurriedly approached his beaten form after quickly thanking Tanjiro. Falling to her knees, a sob escaped her lips as she watched his sleeping form. How much pain did he have to endure?

Her hand delicately stroked the yellow hair she adored, as she examined all the bandaged parts of his body. The way his chest would staggardly rise and drop, there was no doubt he was struggling to just breathe.

“K-Kyojuro,” her voice meek and broken as she cried into the bed.

A soft groan filled her ears as she watched him stir, hearing a pained expression and feeling a familiar hand on her head.

“D-Don’t cry N/n, I-I’m fine-e,” his voice weak and low, pain lacing every word he spoke yet there was a gentle smile on his lips.

She continued to cry, shaking her head, “H-How could I n-not cry?!” She sobbed out as her hands gently gripped onto the blanket that covered him.

A pained snicker left him joined by a quiet wince, “Y-You always w-worry too hard, b-but I’ll be f-fine. I a-asked Shinobu i-if she could p-put me under y-your care.”

A light blush tainted her cheeks on top of the blush from her crying, “I tr-trust you’ll t-take care o-of me,” his words resonating in her heart as she vigorously nodded and gently held onto his hand.

“I promise! I promise I’ll get you back and running in no time,” she spoke as she wiped away her tears, a faint smile on her lips.

“That’s my girl,” his voice soft as his eyes fluttered closed and he fell into deep sleep.

᪥᪥

Months passed as she helped him rehabilitate and heal. Every minute of it she loved in the sense that she grew even closer to him, but it always brought her sadness when she would watch him struggle. Yet Y/n admired the way he would push through obstacles and his continue on with his work ethic, hardly did he ever get frustrated with himself as he did his best.

“Good job today, Kyo!” She cheered happily as she brought over his meal and medications, “I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made.”

He smiled brightly at her, now donning an eyepatch on his left eye.

He hummed, “Mm! And it’s all thanks to you! Thank you for the meal,” he almost yelled out as the tray was set on his lap. His voice was endearing and loud as it always was.

She giggled as she heard every ‘umai’ as he ate his meal with a gentle blush on his face.

It made her heart flutter and feel full with love seeing the goofy flame hashira recover at astounding rate.

Just a few months ago, it looked like he would just barely make it and he would become a husk of the man he was. And yet, there he was. The same Kyojuro, as if nothing had happened to him. His smile was still the same, just as bright and charming. His gaze remained the same, despite his eye being hidden by an eyepatch. Everything about him was the same. The determination and devotion to his duty as a demon slayer was admirable yet she wished that he would think of himself every so often.

Recalling an interaction when he took her in for training before sending her off to do her final selection exam, she could hear his loud voice say, “You’ll do great!”

As Y/n remembered that charming smile on his face as she nervously blushed, hesitancy in her gaze as she peered onto the path surrounded by wisteria.

His touch on her shoulders was soft as his smile became gentle, “N/n, you worked so hard to get to where you are. You are as strong as the swordsmen in the upper ranks of the corps, I’ll be waiting for you, okay?”

He gently draped his haori over her shoulders, before patting her head for a final time and encouragingly pushing her onto the path, “You can do it!!”

Y/n blinked her e/c eyes slowly, as she realized…

She was in love with him.

Y/n felt her face warm, realizing she had been staring at him unknowingly before quickly ripping her gaze away from him who was distracted with his meal.

“N/n, are you okay?” He spoke concerned as he reached over to touch her forehead.

She squeaked, “Ah yeah yeah I’m okay! Don’t worry,” her voice sounding panicked but adorable.

He chuckled as he finished his meal, gulping down his medication with tea before carefully setting the tray on the wooden nightstand.

“Kyojuro, could I tell you something?” Her voice soft as she looked down, the blush on her cheeks darkening.

“Mm! Please do,” he looked at her attentively with a soft smile.

“So there’s this person..” her voice trailing.

“Is that so?” He responded curiously.

She nodded, “And I really like him.”

“That’s amazing!” He exchanged with a bright smile, “Who is it? Who is it?” he questioned curiously, “I need to know who to warn to protect you at all costs.”

A furious blush formed on her face as she got close to him before gently flicking his forehead with a soft pout, “It’s you, dummy. Kyo, I-I really like you..No, not just like...I love you! And I’m certain of it.” she looked away from his yellow ringed ruby eyes as her blush became pink, “But I don’t expect you to feel the same,” a saddened smile on her lips, “That day when you lent me your haori, I felt so at peace. Like you were there with me, encouraging me to get through any trial I encountered at the final selection.”

Y/n fiddled with her fingers as she felt her heart nearly burst from embarrassment and worry, “That’s all I wanted to say,” she looked at him with a soft smile as she braced herself for probable rejection.

He looked at her, watching her nervously play with her fingers. Kyojuro laughed, that same hearty laugh that made her heart flutter.

“What makes you think I don’t feel the same,” he spoke lovingly, “I love you too N/n! You’re the reason why I’m still here today. You’re the one that saved me and encouraged me to heal and get better,” he placed his hand over hers, “I realized that I’ve loved you since we met! One night when I had a dream about you!”

He chuckled, “You looked so beautiful in white,” he wiggled his forked eyebrows making her blush return as a dark red.

With a reddened face, she leaned in and gently kissed his cheek. As she was about to pull away, Kyojuro brought her back and kissed her lips lovingly and sweetly.

Fireworks blasted in her as her heart pounded aggressively in her chest as she felt her lips embrace his. Love evident in every crevice of his soft lips as he gently moved along with hers before pulling away, that adorable cheeky smile on his lips as a light pink dusted his cheeks.

“Well I guess that means you’re all mine now,” he spoke proudly with a smile lacing every word, “I love you N/n!” he shouted.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm as she nodded with a gentle smile on her lips, “I love you too, Kyo.”

ᴇɴᴅ

🔥—————————————————————🔥

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛɪɴɢ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ

ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ <3 ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs/ᴀsᴋs/ɪᴅᴇᴀs/ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs/ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ!! sᴇᴇ

ʏᴀʟʟ sᴏᴏɴ ( ˘ ³˘)♡!!

ᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs: 17

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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

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Skinny Love II (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: second part to skinny love. This is all angst. Very sad. I just watched the pain arc again and had to write something about Kakashi and what happens. Im guessing this could be tagged for spoilers but Naruto is old soooo.

Word count: 5000

“I’m just saying, maybe the second novel is better than the first. You’re free to have your own opinion, that’s just what I think.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Whatever you say,” Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes at the masked man sitting in front of her. She was sipping on a hot bowl of broth after coming home from her most recent mission. It was a nice day out, and she thought it would be a good idea to go out and get something to eat with her favorite shinobi. He was dangerously possessive over his romance novels, and felt immense embarrassment when Y/N decided to pick them up as well.

For a week after finishing the series, she mocked him for liking the gushy, mushy romance that lied on the pages, not to mention the more inappropriate chapters that left nothing to the imagination. Master Jiraiya wasn’t kidding when he said he was doing “research” at the bath house.

“We should go out more often,” he commented, “It’s nice to relax with all this Akatsuki business going on.”

“Definitely. We used to go out like this all the time before you started training those kids,” she hummed. It was true. They had normal outings at that point in time, as the only thing they did was go on missions and then chill at home until the next outing. After Naruto and Sasuke revealed their unique personalities, and got themselves into some sticky situations, the times changed and they spent much more time apart than before. “Not to mention going out with you gives me an excuse to eat whatever I want.”

He nodded in reply, his eyes trailing down to his novel once again which he was skimming over. She didn’t mind him reading at the table. What was he supposed to do? Eat? There was no way he would take off the mask. He was content just giving her company.

His reading gave Y/N an excuse to admire him. Her eyes would lift from the table every time he looked down at the pages, and she would take in all his features. She swore, he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever met, even with the mask. Without a mask, he probably resembled a god. It was nice to just watch as he relaxed into his novel, enjoying himself without any cares in the world.

She liked to talk to him even more. He always knew the right thing to say to make her feel important and wanted, even on her worst of days, he was there to make it better. He was brave and strong, but kind and gentle when need be. His soft words in the late nights they hung out, or his concern when she injured herself, or the happiness the times she made him laugh. Each moment meant so much more to her than he realized.

It was evident to everyone that she had an attachment to him. What kind exactly was the complicated part. While they had been friends for quite a long time, she felt like he was more than just a normal friend or even a best friend. He felt more like a partner than anything, whether it be partner-in-crime or partner-in-love. She loved him with every bone in her body, more than she loved her comrades or her friends, she cared for him like she would a lover.

Maybe it was because she was so shy that she couldn’t tell him how she felt after all this time. Maybe it was fear of rejection. Maybe it was fear of death. She wasn’t sure what held her back from confessing her love to him, spilling all those words she kept under lock and key. She wanted there to be something more, but he’d never let on that he cared for her that way, and surely he would have said something if he did feel that way. It just seemed impossible.

But not to the ordinary person.

People had mentioned in passing to Kakashi that he acted like a lovesick teenager when he was around the woman. She was just so perfect, how could he do anything but adore her. To him, she was one of the only people that truly mattered as more than a fellow shinobi or comrade.

There was no reason to rush it though. If she truly wanted a relationship with him, she would tell him eventually. He wasn’t one to go around throwing out love confessions first. He would wait until she was comfortable and ready. Until then, he would admire her from a distance, through friendly touches and smiles, and dreamy looks when the other wasn’t watching. To him, that was enough.

This lunch outing was the perfect time to waste some hours with her just talking and reading in the others company. The day almost felt too good to be true.

And it was.

First there was the explosion, followed by the screams. Oh, those screams would haunt Y/N’s dreams. Villagers who she’d known growing up screaming in pain. Quickly, she jumped to her feet as did the copy nin. Their eyes frantically looked through the doorway of the restaurant, but there wasn’t anything on their particular street, just dust from the explosion floating down in thick clouds.

“Someone’s attacked the village. Shit,” he cursed under her breath.

They would have to go out there and fight, they both knew that very well. Fight who, they didn’t know, but Y/N could sense that the same foreign chakra signature was coming at her from multiple directions in the village. That couldn’t be good. It was probably that Akatsuki member that everyone was talking about. Pain. Pain with the rinnegan. How could the leaf compete against something as strong as that dojutsu?

“Everybody out! You know the evacuation route,” Y/N called out to the civilians in the restaurant, as she swallowed her panic. She made a move to usher the people from the store so they could run in the direction of refuge.

This wasn’t a normal battle. These intruders were a completely different breed than the ones they were used to fighting. She could feel the impending doom start to blanket around her body, and she took a deep breath. How could this happen? Was Pain here to take Naruto? Naruto wasn’t even in the village, how could that be? Was it the Akatsuki making a big statement attacking one of the five great villages?

There was just something off. She could feel it. Today was going to be one of the worst days, worse than anything else they’d experienced.

“Y/N, let’s go.”

“Kakashi…” she trailed off, not taking a step forward just yet. Was there something she needed to get off her chest before they rushed into a battle with an outcome unknown? As she met his frantic, panicked eyes with her own, she wondered if she should just confess her feelings right then and there, just so he could know before they put their lives on the line.

Never in her life did she think that her or Kakashi might die. It was never a thought that crossed her mind. She assumed she had all the time in the world to gather the courage to tell him. Now it felt like she had run out of time, and they might never get the chance to see each other again. The chakra signatures around them were just too strong to guarantee they would live against their blows. It felt like this was her final chance.

She started again, “Kakashi, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, wanting to hurry this along. She could see plainly that this wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t in the right mind to hear her words, or comprehend the meaning behind them. Instead, she lowered her head and sighed.

And so she kept that secret tightly bound deep in her heart.

“Nevermind, it’s not important. Just be safe out there. Make it back to me in one piece, okay?”

“You know I can’t promise that,” he replied, and her heart sank in her chest. He was right. If he died, he died. If she died, she died. Nothing could stop fate from doing its dirty work.

“Just promise me. Give me some confidence before we jump into this mess. I-I can’t do this without you promising me you’ll live!” She cried, passion and fear dripping off her words. She had her eyes shut tightly at this point, just trying to keep herself from letting the potential tears gather in her eyes. Her fists clenched by her side as well. “Just say something!”

He nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “I promise I’ll make it back to you, Y/N. Now promise you’ll live. For me,” he demanded, lifting her head to face him. His fingers were strong against her cheek, firm when faced with danger. He wanted her to live, but knowing that Pain killed Jiraiya was enough to make him worry and plan for the worst.

Why was he even asking? He knew that words meant nothing. That most promises were just bound to be empty.

Just this one time, he prayed that she’d keep it.

“I promise.”

“Now let’s go. I’ll take this side, and you go that way. Sounds like explosions came from both directions.”

“Got it.”

There was no room for goodbyes.

After that, they went their separate ways. Y/N had to keep herself from losing control. Everything was going to be okay. She was worrying far too much. Kakashi was strong. Stronger than anyone else she knew really. He couldn’t be taken down by some terrorists. It wasn’t an option.

As long as she could sense his chakra lingering in the distance, she would know.

__________

It was painful, the wound that tore through her thigh. Blood dripped thickly from the cut, but she continued to fight. In this situation, there was nothing else to do, nothing more to fight for than the safety of the village and the people within it. Y/N has never seen a villain this bad, someone so dead set on killing and tormenting that it brought the shinobi of the village to their knees. Yet, here he was, this orange haired creature who popped up at multiple points of their city, each with a different signature move yet a similar chakra pattern.

Y/N knew she couldn’t break down just yet, not after seeing comrade after comrade fall to the ground and lose their lives to the cause. She had to keep going for them. For her friends and her family who died. She was never the most talented at fighting, she was more of a sensory type, stay on the inside and study type of kunoichi. But not today. No one had that luxury today.

Constantly, she could feel the loss of the ninja alongside her, their chakra signatures melting into nothing as blasts continued to ravage their village. The fire within their bodies burned for the last time, disappearing into the ashes.

It wasn’t until she was on her knees, face buried in the dirt and rubble did she really feel the pain this man was so desperate to bestow upon the villagers. Kakashi’s chakra had burned out. It was as if her body gave up after that. She couldn’t move, her bones were broken and she couldn’t afford to stand and fall back down once again, believe it that she tried over and over again. Nothing mattered at this point. How could it? She couldn’t feel her best friend’s chakra signature any longer. He was dead.

Her crying into the dirt was the only thing that signalled another shinobi to come and help her to the infirmary. Someone she barely knew had picked her up by the arm and hoisted it over his shoulder, dragging her by his side to the hospital where the medical nin were no doubt working harder than ever. Her whole body felt like it was caked in bloody crimson mud, dust up her nose and muk between her teeth.

Everything just made her cry harder and harder until she felt she was gasping to breathe.

The harsh lights in the building did nothing but sting her eyes, and the dozens of medical nin rushing around those lying on the floor overwhelmed her.

Sakura stood at the front of all the mess, and her eyes immediately caught onto Y/N and her rescuer. “Y/N-sensei, what happened to you?” she cried, rushing over with her frantic hands hovering over the state of the broken woman as she scanned for the wounds. This only caused more sobbing.

“One second she was fine, the next she was lying in the dirt screaming. I don’t know,” the man said, handing her off to the pink haired girl. “She’s got broken legs, I know that.”

“Thank you for bringing her,” she mumbled as she brought her sensei over to an empty cot, sitting her down on the cloth and beginning the healing process on the worst part of her leg where the bone was exposed. She was shaking so badly it was almost hard to concentrate on her work. She’d never seen Y/N so hopeless and lost. She was strong, she never faltered in the face of danger. It worried Sakura, no doubt.

“Sensei, what happened?”

“It’s Kakashi,” the woman croaked between her harsh breaths. “I-I can’t feel his chakra anymore.” Tears ran down her cheeks furiously, dripping from her chin into her lap. She felt the hopelessness overtake her entire person, the only thing left being complete and utter fear. Her chest heaved, desperate for the next gulp of air into her lungs.

Sakura nearly faltered at the words. Kakashi sensei, dead? How could that be? He was one of the strongest shinobi they knew. He would never fall victim to a villain, would he? From the sounds of Y/N’s heartbroken cries, the medical nin knew that it was over. That another life had been stolen from them.

Kakashi was Y/N’s heart and soul. She loved him for years and planned to love him for many more. Everyone knew that. Kakashi and her may have never acknowledged their feelings before his death, but the skinny love lingered in the air every time they were around each other.

The longing looks when they passed each other in the street. The pain they felt when the other was hurt. The smiles they shared when something good happened in their no-good shinobi lives. They were more than willing to lay their lives on the line for the other, more than just a comrade, more than a friend.

Her passion for Kakashi was the only good thing she had to come home to after missions. His face was the one thing she wanted to see after a bad day. His stupid face as he read his perverted novels, that grin that she positively adored.

All of that was gone, and her heart couldn’t take it. The pain from her injuries sat in the back of her mind, the only thing she could focus on was the loss. Knowing she would never see him again, never hear his voice. If only she could hear him laugh one more time. It was impossible, but she wished to the heavens above for mercy.

Sadly, no one was there to listen.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Sakura whispered, not knowing what else to say. What could she say?

“I need him. I can’t do this without him,” she sobbed, her hands shaking by her side, having to clench her fists just to stop the tremors. “Sakura, it’s been 15 years. I...I don’t know a life without him.”

Her heart broke at the words. It was true. She didn’t know life anymore without Kakashi. They’d been friends and comrades for so long that it seemed like that was all she knew. How can you come back from that? Sakura didn’t know. She might be able to heal the woman’s legs, but there was no way she could begin to heal such a broken heart.

“It’s okay. You have plenty of others. You have Gai and Kurenai and-”

“Fuck everyone else. You know they can’t replace him,” she snapped. “No one can replace him.”

Sakura could only nod solemnly. They could lie all day and pretend that Gai would somehow swoop in and make up for that gaping hole in her heart. They could lie and say that Kurenai and her child would fill Y/N with a happiness she felt with Kakashi. Yes, they could certainly lie about it all.

At the end of the day though, her pain would be unrivalled. Losing the one man you’ve loved from the moon and back. It would take an entire army and then some to combat such a struggle.

When Sakura was done healing the woman, she handed her a roll of bandages from her pocket. “I’ve got to tend to others. Wrap this around your calf and then stay here to rest. Please, just rest yourself, sensei. You’ll heal faster that way.” Y/N took the bandages and nodded her head weakly, shaky hands going to wrap her bare and burned calf with the medical bandages.

Her mind still centered around Kakashi. She found herself curling up into a ball on the little bench she was sat at, hugging her knees close to her chest. She just cried. Right now, she couldn’t do anything else.

Just cry.

________

The village was in complete and utter ruin. Y/N lay painfully utop a mountain of rubble, blood oozing from the back of her head and from her already injured leg. Pain’s final attack, one that completely demolished the village...it spared her life.

How could things get any fucking worse?

She felt like the Gods were being especially cruel to her on this day. Especially cruel to every single person in the village, but they kept Y/N alive for their own personal amusement, laughing at her loss and her pain and her frustration.

Despite Lady Tsunade sending out Katsuyu to protect the villagers, Y/N only seemed to be in worse shape than before. She could feel the slug on her shoulder slowly healing her, but it wasn’t much compared to the pain and the numerous injuries.

Y/N rolled onto her side and groaned, pain shooting up her spine and giving her a brain-shattering headache. When she went to cough on something thick and slimy in her throat, what splattered on the ground was red. Maybe she was just meant to die slow and painfully.

It was better this way, she decided. Nothing could make this day worth it. Nothing. The pain was unbearable.

“Y/N? Is that you?” a feminine voice called from a little while away, and the woman cursed, spitting up more blood as she did so. Sakura climbed through some of the rubble to approach her. Her hands hovered over the woman’s broken body, scanning over all her wounds.

Naruto was down there fighting Pain. Everything was going to be okay as long as they had faith in the Uzumaki. Sakura could focus a bit of her energy on healing her sensei. There was nothing else to do except watch the fight below them, in the center of the wasteland that used to be the Hidden Leaf.

She began the healing process, medical chakra flowing into the woman’s chest wounds, the most critical of all. “Sakura…”

“What is it, Y/N?”

“What’s happening? Is everyone dead?”

“No, everyone is alive. Lady Tsunade sent out Katsuyu to protect everyone. It seems that you were injured before your healing slug could get to you. Thankfully, you have both of us to fix you up,” she muttered. Y/N would have been blind to not notice the way Sakura stared past her deeper into the wreckage as she spoke.

“What do you see?” she asked quietly, as loud as her body could muster.

“It’s Naruto. He’s out there fighting Pain alone,” she said, “He-he’s gotten so much stronger.”

The older woman smiled through her pain, shutting her eyes and letting a soft sigh leave her lips. She hadn’t anticipated Naruto to come saving the day, in fact, it seemed more likely that Pain would kill everyone and leave the village in ruin. Fortunately, Kakashi’s student, the one that people had underestimated for so long, was out there doing what the rest of them couldn’t.

A hero. No matter if he won or not, these are the actions of a hero.

“It’s his destiny: to save this village,” she whispered. “Jiraiya once said so.”

“Let’s hope he was right.”

Together they lay there in the middle of ruin while Naruto battled Pain. They watched as the two men launched themselves away from the village into the woods, the nine tailed fox coming to life far away from where they huddled together. The village was safe from direct harm at this point and the two women let down their guard just a little bit. Down in the middle of the pit some of the students started to gather, including a heavily injured Hinata.

“Help me down there, Sakura. I need to see Gai,” she said, louder than before. After all that time healing, she found herself strong enough to prop up on her elbows and gaze into the destruction.

Once down there, Sakura was quick to start healing Hinata, fearing that the girl had taken too much damage to handle. After all, she charged against Pain, the supposedly leader of this terrorist attack. All of that to help out young Naruto. Y/N felt like she was staring at an image of herself for a moment. A young woman ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of the man she loved.

As her eyes moved around the area, she caught onto the bright green outfit of her long time friend. His eyes caught hers for a moment and quickly, he rushed over to her side. She collapsed onto her knees, wincing at the pain that ran through her body as she did so. She found herself still a bit too weak to stand.

“Y/N, you’re alive,” he gasped. He knelt on the ground beside her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, steadying her shaky form. “Your injuries-”

“Forget about that, Gai,” she mumbled. “Something terrible has happened.” He couldn’t imagine what she had to say could be any worse than the destruction of the entire village. But he nodded and sat there listening as she spoke her words carefully, painfully with each syllable that left her lips. “Kakashi is dead.”

He felt his heart drop in his chest. As he looked at the woman before him, he knew that she wanted nothing more to cry, yet there were no tears. He assumed that she had already cried her fill earlier and could only mourn at this point. He didn’t ask before wrapping her smaller form up in his arms and tugging her to his chest, burying his nose in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his shoulder, dry sobs causing her entire form to quiver.

In a moment like this one, he just remained still for her. Sit there and be there through this pain. He felt crushed at the thought of his best friend dead, his eternal rival somewhere out there in all that rubble fatally injured. Gai had lost a brother that day, and Y/N had lost her one and only lover.

He listened as she hopelessly bawled in the comfort of his arms, feeling every bit of her pain sink into his form. They had gone through battles together before, they grew up teammates and friends, how could they not. They had seen death and pain all their lives. This was on another level, incomprehensible to either of them.

Pure misery. Every emotion seemed to burn in her chest. She wanted to curl up and die herself.

________

It felt like hours went by before the lives were returned. She hadn’t thought much of it when the elderly Toad woke up from his eternal slumber. For a moment, she thought it was just a fluke. That he had never really died in the first place, they just thought he did. But then, she watched as people above the trench started to stand from their resting places on the ground and in the rubble.

That is when she realized that somehow, someway, the lives lost during this terrible battle had been reclaimed. It was only a matter of time before she found out if Kakashi had come back to life as well. She sat there, focusing all her energy into sensing nearby chakra, sorting through hundreds of people for the one she wanted.

Gai had left to help out some of the others, so she just sat there waiting. Waiting for Kakashi to come back to her. Just like he promised.

After all this chaos, she couldn’t imagine keeping her love a secret from him any longer. He needed to know. She wouldn’t let this opportunity go wasted. Y/N was given a second chance at finding love in her friend, and she would be damned if she let that go to waste.

After a while, she began to feel his chakra. At first it was very faint, like he was a mile away hidden underneath rocks and everything else you could imagine. But then it got stronger.

He was alive.

When she saw his form climb down into the pit with the rest of them, his mask torn and only the bottom layer of his clothes still intact, she nearly cried once again. For hours before this, she was prepared to never see him alive again, never see that masked face look down upon hers once more. She had mourned the loss of Kakashi Hatake, only for him to be returned.

It was as if the God’s had listened to her prayers.

“Kakashi!” she exclaimed as she struggled to get herself up from the ground. She knelt on one knee, pushing herself up with the other, desperate to walk over to him. Her body failed her of course, and she fell back onto her butt. He noticed her though, her tiny figure in the crowd of hundreds. She was the one person he wanted to find all along.

He fell onto his knees beside her, his hands coming up to grasp her cheeks with his dusty, calloused hands. She relaxed into his rough fingers, sinking into the warmth that he was sharing. His thumbs slid along her lips and chin, trying to rub away the dirt that was caked in some places. She was a mess, messier than he was. He could only imagine the suffering that she went through as well, to have survived all of that without death as a retreat in the middle.

“Y/N, what happened to you?”

“Pain’s final blow caused some pretty bad wounds, but it’s fine. Sakura healed me enough that I’ll make it through,” she told him. Softly, she lifted her hands to place them over top his, her fingers slowly wrapping around his. “Kakashi, you broke your promise to me.”

“I know.”

She found that the words came out faster than she anticipated. Emotions and feelings being laid out in the open for him to see/ “I-I completely lost myself when I couldn’t feel your chakra anymore. I thought I’d lost you. I couldn’t stop crying, and I was angry at you for breaking your promise to me,” she rambled, “I didn’t know what I was gonna do without you.”

“It’s alright. I’m here now. Whatever Naruto has done saved my life,” he soothed, letting their hands fall into her lap. She wouldn’t let go of his hands even if he wanted them to himself. She was afraid. Afraid that if she let him go once more that he would be gone forever. “And I’m sorry I lied to you. I really shouldn’t have died like that. So irresponsible of me.”

There he was cracking a fucking joke about his own death. She wanted to smack him for being so dimwitted in a moment of vulnerability. Just the thought of being with him again made tears spring up in her eyes, and she shut her eyes to keep them from falling. Happy tears or not, she wasn’t going to cry again.

“I need to tell you what I was too afraid to say before. What I wanted to say before we went our separate ways,” she confessed, her breaths coming out harsh and rushed. Once again, she gripped his hands tighter in hers.

After taking a couple breaths, she lifted her eyes to meet his, mouth just agape. He really was all she could ever need. This moment wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t ideal, but it was just right for what she needed to say. “I’ve always loved you, Kakashi.”

“Y/N-”

“Listen, I know it’s not exactly an appropriate time to be confessing my love to you and all, but I couldn’t risk another day going by without telling you.”

“I love you, too.”

And silence.

There wasn’t anything else to say. The love was mutual, it had been all this time. They just took their time getting around to admitting it, to just hear those words leave the other’s lips for the first time. There were no butterflies in her stomach nor did her heart race in her chest at his confession.

She could only feel comfort in the umbrella they’d created for themselves, the outside world lost to the both of them.

In a flash, she lurched forward to wrap her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face deep into his neck. “Don’t die ever again, Hatake, or I’ll kick your ass,” she laughed, the sound of her laugh reaching his ear. He held her to his chest and sighed.

“No promises.”

Despite what happened that day, he felt comfortable. For the first time, in a very long time, he felt relief wash over him. Everything was going to be okay.

“Kakashi!”

Requests Are Open!

#kakashi x reader #kakashi imagine #kakashi oneshot #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x reader #naruto x reader #naruto one shot #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto shippuden #one shot #x reader #writing #hope you guys like this one ill be back with either a new kakashi fic or a shikamaru fic soon

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kuekyuuq · 3 years

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Praise and blind spots... (6x12)

I know, I wouldn't be able to do the topic justice, so I will refrain from going in too deep into 6x12′s plot. This is not my usual format and will focus more on the series as a whole, in light of this episode...

Azie Tesfai wrote a beautiful episode on a very important topic. And managed to tie it in to what Supergirl (the show) needed to be, among other things.

Yes, it's a superhero show. But that's the thing: While movies have the luxury to keep their focus on the big picture, series should also find the time to address the micro-cosmos, the consequences, the backlash, the whole canvas.

We watch shows these days, that are more and more departing from the olden format of episodic and towards the serialized - meaning, not only villain-arcs (vaguely) span over the whole of a season, but also the main characters' developments and evolution... and more importantly the stories and characters surrounding them. This should allow for interesting stories to be told in the background, without becoming background-noise. What saddens me, is that Supergirl only really started using this narration device in an effective way in its final season. With a very important topic, that while having been touched on before, deserved a good depiction, worthy of it's depth.

In this season we had two episodes before, that made me happy on that level - both also heavily featuring Azie's character, Kelly. The story about the young black man and his little brother was a heartfelt one, a relatable and thought-provoking story, given more depth by being picked up again. Being treated not as just another plot-device.

Oh, I wished we had a time-machine, cut out so many of the unnecessary and bland filler stories (that never really went anywhere) and got to dive in deeper into the many topics CWSG checked off it's PC list during its run and actually told something worth revisiting. Like this. Like what Azie did right here in 6x12.

Now, we’ve got this little gem. In the last season. Focusing on one of the secondary main-characters. The girlfriend of the sister of the titular hero... While the titular hero herself is and has been side-lined in the past 4 episodes. (If not longer... *sigh*)

I really liked this episode. I really love its format. And the topic is so very important. On all its depicted levels (and there were many).

...why did this have to happen only now?

On one hand, I feel, this is something the series can be remembered for. The last season's arc of Kelly and the story her character has to tell, the awareness this story brings forward. In a show, that should have so much impact.

On the other, I feel it's taking up room from our main character, when there should be time spend addressing Kara's traumas, her healing, her relationships.... her story. And in better hands, we possibly could have (had) both. But, alas, this is the CW.

We should have had this episode two seasons ago!

Now we have a new hero, build up before the series' finale, when we know the new Guardian will not get to shine or tell her stories (is there even talk about a spin-off for her?).

I hope, sincerely, that the last stretch of episodes will be able to balance its stories much better. That Kelly - now that her story and origin and drive has been told - will not sink back into the shadows, while we also get more Kara (and let’s not forget wrapping up the rest of the Superfriends’ arcs).

The show hardly felt like "Supergirl" in a while now. Kara is there, yes. And I get the behind-the-scenes reasons as of why they had to have her on her own separate adventure for the first 7 episodes. But... there are so many unresolved topics around Kara, herself. (IMO, the only character that continuously got this much attention is Lena Luthor, having almost more background-story, character build-up, -arc, emotional depth and consequences, personal and surrounding her, than Kara - including the horrible over-the-top mess that was season 5.)

Gosh, the show even made a point of having Kelly say, that it wasn't Kara's job to deal with these little things. Which is right and wrong at the same time. Supergirl is an over-powered superhero. Which brings conflict in its own right. Which - in a series - should leave room to explore her as a person and dealing with the chasm between her powers and her vulnerability, her character, her emotions, her traumas, her desires, hopes and dreams and wishes, her evolution and re-evaluations...

Kara Zor-El Danvers should be the - or at least a - focus in her (last!) season.

And on top of that, we should get to see what happens when the heroes dust off their hands and leave the scene after fighting the big bad.

Consequences. The show has been horrendously bad at addressing those before. The Children of Liberty arc tried to deal with that... but in a way that lead to extremists, and for the sake of a big bad - rather than in a relatable Everyman / Everwoman / Every..person(?) way. This episode did that. The previous Kelly episodes did that. So very well...

...addressing the little people, the normal people, the minorities, the (unintentional) victims, the over-looked, the individual sufferings, the by-standers...

...but also unintentionally showcasing the shortcomings of the show in a very unflattering way. But I guess, for an episode titled “Blind Spots”, that attempts to cast light on things that have been ignored before, that’s rather fitting...

... I don't think, I can say much else without accidentally taking away from Azie’s master piece or her intent and thoughtful execution...

I did very much appreciate the "24h earlier" bit, showing Kelly's tale paralleling the 'grand adventures' of the Superfriends.

I did not think, Diggle needed to keep telling Kelly how proud her brother would be, as Kelly should not need her brother's thumbs-up or for the show to yet again inadvertently compare a female to their male 'counterpart'. Kelly's Guardian will (hopefully) not be like James'. Just like Supergirl is her own woman and comparing her to Superman is just inadequate.

...and I love how even the mail was quicker than the jet that brought Lena back to National City.

...

I love the show for its quirkiness. Not the unintentional one, but the funny and goofy bits. For Kara being walking (or flying) sunshine incarnated, but also relatable in her day-to-day struggles. For characters with so much promise that I got so much more invested in the show, than its average writing deserves. It is a series, that had so much potential. To tell big and small stories, important and impactful stories. Fun, sad, thought-provoking, entertaining, exciting, adventurous, soothing, real, fantastic... I never asked for the show to 'pick a lane' (I'd take Lucy...) because there has always been potential to meld so many themes and motives and ...moods together - that's what an ensemble cast is perfect for.

Thank you, Azie Tesfai, for a great episode!

Fingers crossed, the last stretch of the show will be able to keep up with a bar suddenly raised so very high.

#supergirl #supercorp #not much supercorp in it #6x12 #blind spots #episode rant #season 6 #azie tesfai #review #not my usual format #kara danvers

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lizzybeth1986 · 3 years

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I have seen your posts where you explain why you don't like Madeleine and I agree with you so so so so much. I never understood why I felt so annoyed by Madeleine and never warmed up to her, but you eloquently explained it. I dislike Madeleine because the narrative coddles her too much. It's not only how she emotionally abused Hana (even though this is the biggest reason), it's also that scene where MC is forced to pick up her ring (and she does this believing MC is in love with Liam). We have two scenes where Madeleine actively works to break the spirit of TWO characters, and it's never addressed or called out by the narrative. Nope instead Hana and MC forget what she did to them and behavior is excused because she has shitty parents (🙄). Even worse the writers make us believe that Madeleine would objectively be a better Queen than MC (if you romance Liam) and yet they never show us HOW. MC is forced to admit that. The only time we see Madeleine getting a taste of humble pie is in Royal Heir 2 and 3, but frankly, I find it's too little and too late, for me to ever sympathize with this snake. So no I don't like Madeleine. Like AT ALL.

I just wanted to start out by saying to (not just you, but loads of people who have liked and reblogged my stuff these past few months) thank you for sending me these asks and reading my stuff, even though I haven't updated in forever 🤗 It's been hard trying to get back to writing again but a lot of this encourages me.

(I'm also sorry for all the asks left collecting dust in my ask box. I promise I'll get around to answering them!)

Returning to your ask, @elegantxdreams, I definitely agree. I think a large part of the problem with Madeleine's writing was that the "redemption arc" they wrote her involved no real effort from her part for that redemption. If you notice in Book 2 - you have her bully Hana and Penelope all through the first half, which culminates in her drunken display in Italy where she gloats about wanted to break Hana...and shortly after being (optionally) called out she recedes to the background.

In the meantime her mother was trotted out singing Madeleine's praises and worrying about her well-being. Meaning that by the time she became prominent again, fandom would have mostly forgot the sequence in Italy and the writing team could successfully retcon the entire episode...to the point where Kiara was now "the mean one" rather than Madeleine. Essentially- Madeleine got all the benefits of this redemption arc, without doing any of the work.

I'm really glad you brought up the belief that Madeleine would be a great Queen without ever showing us how...and in fact I'd expand on that argument a little. Not only is there very little proof that she would be a good Queen, there is more than enough proof that she'd in fact be a terrible one.

During her entire engagement tour, she's done very little but antagonize her ladies in waiting, most of whom are from the Great Houses. In fact one of them (Penelope) openly states to the group that Madeleine is one of the reasons she is reluctant to return to court. Her actions are neither politically smart nor beneficial for the royal family. In fact, if she wound up being Liam's bride at the end of the engagement tour, I don't think she'd be as successful in garnering any support after the Homecoming Ball attack. She'd have burned too bridges by then....and in a narrative that wasn't simping for her, the women she hurt would be able to tell their families about her treatment of them, and they'd be justified in not wanting to deal with her.

(An interesting thing to note is how the narrative differentiates between her treatment of Penelope vs that of Hana - Penelope is at least allowed to treat Madeleine as a bully, and even the MC has the rare option to call her out on her bullshit. Meanwhile, Hana was made to pander to Madeleine's ego, pay her compliments for the sake of the group, and the MC straight up forgets what Madeleine put Hana through. I wonder why).

At the end of Book 2 and for all of Book 3, the narrative tried to shoehorn a "patriotism" angle to Madeleine's character just to make her more likeable. And a lot of the fandom (me too, for a brief period) fell for it. Yet it only makes sense if you completely forget what she was like in Book 2. A patriotic Queen-to-be would be building her alliances - esp powerful ones like the Great Houses and other prominent people - not gloating about breaking them. She'd be consistent in her support of them and strategic in her criticisms of them. Yet, when she had the chance, the opportunity, the platform, she did nothing productive with it. She chose to be a bully instead.

The narrative "solution" to this was to have her disappear, erase or severely minimize this portion of her story, and then have everyone else - including the person she harmed the most (Hana) - praise her for skills that we never actually see in canon. A lot of this boils down to the person who openly admitted to writing her - Jeffrey - and his preference for the character...but the other writers in the team feel equally comfortable following through with his rosy picture of her in TRH.

The main problem I have with TRH Madeleine is, again, the narrative framing. We are expected to accommodate her "fragile" mental health, to the point where we are blamed for her betrayal. Treating her kindly is a consistent process, lasting over two books, and again when you look at how she treated her ladies in waiting when she was in power, the contrast is stark. If we deserved betrayal over asking her to pledge to "amend her House's treachery" and then not including her, or not crediting her for certain things, or for general meanness - how much betrayal would she deserve for her conduct when she was almost in power?

Other white women in the series get similar treatment as well, btw. Penelope's betrayal of us in Book 2 is never even mentioned after she makes that weak apology in Paris. Olivia is lauded as being this "great spy" when in fact all I've seen her do is collect scraps of intel and then sit on it until we've forgotten it exists (Operation Swan, hello?). They do this while forgetting Hana was stealthy and resourceful in the original series and leaning into the fandom myth that Kiara was a snob. So it isn't entirely surprising that the narrative wants us to believe things about Madeleine that aren't even in the books.

Tldr; a lot of the narrative treatment for Madeleine makes sense when you view it as the writers overplaying their hand in Book 2, and massively retconning that episode for subsequent books...with a heavy dose of "get over it" and "White Feminism FTW!"

#anti madeleine #madeleine amaranth #the royal romance #the royal heir #ask me #ask lizzy #elegantxdreams

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crimsonrose-monika · 3 years

Text

[Tokyo Revengers Fanfic] By Your Side, Always

If you prefer AO3 format, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33160153

Title: By Your Side, Always

Pairing: Mikey & Takemitchy, Implied Mikey / Takemitchy, Takemichi / Hinata, Open to interpretation.

Tags: Manila Future Timeline Mikey, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Tenjiku Arc, Mikey Needs a Hug, Song-Inspired Fanfic

Synopsis:

If Toman had gone bad, again and again, then it meant that Mikey’s heart had been corrupted, again and again. No one could reach Mikey. Takemichi could. He was by Mikey’s side, so why?

Only that he wasn’t. Takemichi wasn’t by Mikey’s side.

Realization slammed into him, fast and so unexpected that it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Witnessing the dark future that awaited Mikey and the rest of Toman, Takemichi took a leap. He desperately wanted to save the invincible Mikey from himself. This time, he decided to stay.

This fanfic is inspired by a song 歩いていこう by いきものがかり. Parts of the song was inserted in the story. I translated the song and polish the translation myself to fit the English phrasing. (Putting my rusty Japanese to work here.) Feel free to listen while reading.

youtube

By Your Side, Always

“All my life, I’ve been suffering.” Mikey whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, but he smiled, as if his death was the best outcome he could ever wish for.

Takemichi felt his heart smashed into pieces as he watched life rapidly seeping out of his dear friend. Tears didn’t suit Mikey. A smile did, but not like this. Not the small tilt of his lips that amplified the crushed hope that lurked behind his deep, dark eyes. The best smile for Mikey was the full, satisfied one that smoothed the cease of his brows and made him shine brighter than anyone.

Without thinking, words rushed from Takemichi’s mouth. He didn’t care that he had been trying his hardest to not reveal his ability to anyone. He didn’t care what side effects admitting to time leap could cause. All he could think of was Mikey’s resignation. He wanted to erase that look from his eyes. He was to give this man hope.

What could have happened that made the invincible Mikey, who had faced down an overwhelmingly outnumbered fight with his back straight and his shoulders squared, felt like his death was the only happiness?

“Thanks, Takemitchy. Your words comforted me.” Mikey’s voice was calm. He stared up at the man whose eyes reminded him of sunlight hitting the sea surface, committing them to his last memory. Takemichi was crying again, ever the crybaby. Even when Mikey had held him at gunpoint, Takemichi still cried for him. “Even if you’re telling me lies...I’m happy.”

Blood from his head wound flowed into his eyes, but Mikey paid it no mind. In his last moment, he wanted to treasure the last member of Toman who didn’t lose their life by Mikey’s hands.

Takemichi’s tears fell onto Mikey’s shoulder blade. As his body slowly lost its heat, the warmth of Takemichi’s touch became clear. How long had it been since he had felt another person’s gentle heat on his skin? When was the last time Mikey had any kind of physical contact that lasted for more than a few seconds that it took his feet and fists to take down opponents? He had forgotten what it felt like to be close to someone.

“Your hands are so warm.”

Mikey’s eyes clouded over. All awareness escaped him as his breathing slowed to a stop. Feeling like the battered floor under his knees gave away, Takemichi brought Mikey close. As light shone through the time-worn holes in the ceiling, illuminating Mikey’s lifeless form like a silent eulogy, Takemichi’s memory of the man played behind his eyes.

“From now on, you’re my bitch!” Mikey had confidently declared the first time they had met, after he and Draken defeated Kiyomasa with ease.

“I’m going to create an era for delinquents,” Mikey had proclaimed his dream with determination alight in his eyes. At that moment, Mikey had stood with his feet planted firmly, ready for anything the world would throw his way.

“Boo!” In the bath house, after the fight with Mobius’ remnants at the festival, Mikey had smiled widely and played like a kid.

“You’re strong, Takemitchy,” Mikey, who was stronger than anyone, had acknowledged his respect for the crybaby.

Reliving the memories of Mikey brought a different kind of resolution to Takemichi. He clenched his fist to steel himself and plunged into the stream of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Takemichi hated funerals. As an adult, he understood that death was an inevitable state of humans. But recently, he had attended too many funerals—had seen too many deaths—in all timelines.

Hinata, Atsushi, Baji, Mitsuya, Mikey, Emma, Izana, and even Kisaki, whose death Takemichi had thought wouldn’t make him feel anything. How wrong he was.

Why did people keep dying despite his best effort?

During the entirety of Emma’s funeral, Mikey didn’t cry. He stared at Emma’s portrait, where she laughed brightly without a care in the world, lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes Takemichi caught a glimpse of silent despair and anguish that he had seen swirling behind the future Mikey’s eyes.

It scared him.

Emma’s death wasn’t the trigger to Mikey’s darkness, Takemichi knew, because the leader of Toman was strong. Mikey would be sad. He would grieve, he would see the world crumbling to dust before him, and he would be lost, but he would come back. Just like he had come back to face Izana with a heart that was still bleeding, ready to love another brother despite the fresh pain that was etched into his soul.

But even the strongest man could fall once the loss of his precious people piled up in such a short time. In the span of Mikey’s teenage life, he had lost three out of four family members and half of the starting members of Toman, all of them sudden, without time to prepare or make peace. Some people would come back—Pah-chin and Kazutora—but the rest were gone forever.

Even to Takemichi, a somewhat outsider-turned-friend—because they were all his friends, but he would never compare his care for them to Mikey’s—who took in the situation with great shock that clung to every fiber of his body, Mikey’s life was like a cruel, heartless joke.

How could a person experience so much pain so young?

It was already a miracle that Mikey retained his sense of self this long.

After the funeral, Takemichi walked with Hinata, but they couldn’t seem to go anywhere. In the end, they continued walking mindlessly across the town. He registered the same store that they had walked past twice before, but he couldn’t bring himself to think. Hinata didn’t say anything either. She walked beside him wordlessly, offering her presence to Takemichi’s fleeting awareness.

They stopped at an empty park, where they sat on the swings as silence stretched. The sky already turned dark when Takemichi spoke.

“I couldn’t change Emma’s death. I was right there, but I still couldn’t do anything.”

Hinata listened intently, like she always did. Takemichi could feel her patient gaze on the side of his face even as he stared down at his hands that clasped together on his lap.

“In the future, Mikey-kun lost himself. After Emma died, Mikey-kun fell into darkness. He told me that he’d been suffering all his life.” Takemichi’s voice shook at the end as he remembered the future Mikey’s existence that screamed out to him in misery, begging him to put his own life to an end. “I knew all that, but I still failed.”

His breath stuttered as the beginning of a sob formed behind his throat. His eyes were hot.

At this rate, Mikey is going to end up the same. Toman members would all die. Nothing would change.

“I’m tired, Hina-chan. I’m tired of going back to find out that it is another bad future once again. They deserve to be happy, but the world keeps throwing pain at them. It’s not fair.”

Even as he blabbered on, Takemichi berated himself for talking like a child. It wasn’t fair? The world was never fair, but it was being particularly cruel to all his loved ones.

Takemichi roughly wiped his tears with the sleeves of his shirt.

He had been thinking. He had been changing the past. He had prevented Draken’s death that would change Mikey, but then Hinata and Atsushi died. Draken was on a death row. He had conveyed Baji’s intention to Mikey and stopped him from killing Kazutora, but Hinata and Chifuyu still died. Even worse, it was him who ordered her death. Then, he made sure that Hakkai didn’t join Black Dragons. It should have been the best future yet, but everyone died, and Mikey was living a life he would rather not have.

No matter how many times Takemichi changed the past, there still wasn’t a single future where everyone was happy. In the face of repeated failures, he started to think that maybe he had been looking at it from the wrong point of view.

When he was lost in his head, Hinata spoke up for the first time.

“Takemichi-kun, what do you think you are to Mikey-kun?”

What a strange question.

Takemichi lifted his head and looked at his girlfriend. Hinata smiled at him even though her eyes were red from crying at Emma’s funeral. She had grown quite close to Mikey’s sister.

When he didn’t say anything, she looked away and spoke what had been on her mind. “Hina might not know the people from Toman as well as Takemichi-kun, but Hina has been watching when you’re with them. Mikey-kun cares about you. There are many times when you said ridiculous things, Takemichi-kun, but he listened to you.”

Hinata started pushing her feet into the ground, propelling herself gently back and forth on the swing absentmindedly as she organized her thoughts. When she spoke next, she seemed like she knew something about Mikey that Takemichi didn’t. Her big round eyes looked straight ahead, away from Takemichi, but her voice made its way into his heart.

“Your voice reached Mikey-kun, again and again. You brought him back. You mean more to Mikey-kun than you think, Takemichi-kun. Maybe there is something you can say to him that will remind him to not give in to his darkness?”

Takemichi remembered. When he had said that he would become Toman’s top member to Mikey’s face, he was serious and determined. But deep down, he knew how ridiculous it had sounded. If it had been anyone else, Takemichi would surely get a jeer in the face. He wasn’t good at fighting. He got more punches in his face than he had landed. Anyone would have thought that he was a pushover.

But not Mikey. He had taken Takemichi’s words seriously and never once laughed at him for aiming high. The invincible Mikey had said that Takemichi was stronger even though Mikey could defeat him with one kick. Every time that Mikey almost lost himself in grief and impulse, Takemichi’s sincere words brought him back to sense.

If Toman had gone bad, again and again, then it meant that Mikey’s heart had been corrupted, again and again. No one could reach Mikey. Takemichi could. He was by Mikey’s side, so why?

Only that he wasn’t. Takemichi wasn’t by Mikey’s side.

Realization slammed into him, fast and so unexpected that it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“Could it be that no matter what I did, Toman still went bad because I wasn’t there?”

When Takemichi jumped back to the future, what was left in this timeline was the young Takemichi who didn’t intimately know Mikey’s suffering. He didn’t want to admit the cowardice of his younger self, ashamed at how weak he had been until Hinata’s death in the first timeline had opened his eyes, but the young Takemichi wouldn’t be able to scold Mikey like he had been asked to. Only the future Takemichi could, but he wasn’t here when Mikey needed him.

That must be why. There was no one to pull Mikey back from the brink because Takemichi who could wasn’t there with him.

If that was true, then he could just stay to make sure that Mikey wouldn’t go down the wrong path. He would act as Mikey’s moral pillar, like he had been asked to after the fight on Christmas Day. That way, instead of jumping back to find that one or all of his friends met their premature ends, he could be with them and make sure that they were okay.

When Hinata tore her eyes from the park to look back at Takemichi’s face, she knew that her boyfriend had come to some form of conclusion. She wasn’t sure what that decision was, but she knew him. Takemichi was the crybaby hero. His determination to protect was more fierce than anyone. So she waited.

“Hina-chan, this time, I’m not going back to the future.”

Hinata wouldn’t say that what she heard was anything she had expected, but at the same time, now that it was said out loud, it was the most Takemichi-like answer.

“Will it be okay not to go back?” She asked, a little worried about what would happen to the body of the future Takemichi if his consciousness was here. Takemichi had told her that he came from the future to fix things and go back when whatever he was here for was corrected, but he didn’t go into how the time leap worked.

“It should be fine,” Takemichi replied. He seemed a little unsure as he spoke, but then he pressed his lips together and held his head up high. His blue eyes that were illuminated under the street light shone brightly. “When I’m here, my body in the future was on autopilot. Even if something happens, I’m still alive here. I can continue to make changes so that nothing bad will happen to any of us in the future.”

“Is that how it works?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it is my best option.”

Hinata watched Takemichi in silence. Time passed, and Takemichi was starting to think that maybe he got something wrong and Hinata didn’t agree when she nodded to herself and gave him a sparkling smile.

“Hina will support Takemichi-kun no matter what you choose,” she said with finality, as if it had been predetermined.

Takemichi felt incredibly lucky to have Tachibana Hinata, a girl whose heart was unmovable and understanding, in his life. “Thank you, Hina-chan.”

“Also, please work out your feelings.” At that very moment, Hinata looked like someone who held the secret of the world. She seemed to know Takemichi better than he knew himself. “Hina will be waiting okay?”

Again, Hinata said a cryptic message that Takemichi didn’t quite understand. But he nodded.

歩いていこう歩いていこう

Let’s walk forward. Let’s walk forward.

僕は「今」を生きていくよ

I will continue to live in the “present.”

君がくれた言葉はここにあるよ

The words that you told me are right here with me.

そうだよ歩いていこう

Yes, let’s walk forward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, Mikey called Takemichi to meet at the Musashi Shrine. He told Takemichi to wear his Toman black uniform, which Takemichi easily complied. March temperature had warmed up a bit from the freezing February, on its way to welcome spring, but it still wasn’t anywhere near warm enough to go out without bundling up. Good thing that Toman’s long sleeves and baggy pants uniform made it simple to slip another layer or two underneath.

When Takemichi arrived, Mikey was already there, playing with the puff of his breath that the cold, humid air produced. He wore his usual white long-sleeve shirt underneath his coat uniform that draped over his shoulders. Takemichi wondered if Mikey didn’t feel cold in this kind of weather.

Takemichi told Mikey all about the future, from the very beginning when he was pushed onto the train rails. What he had changed up until now and its result in each timeline. He sobbed when he apologized for failing to save Baji and Emma, and broke into a cry when he told Mikey what had happened to his future self in Manila.

Mikey’s face was carefully blank as he listened. Takemichi couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but there was something that had been bothering him since he took his first step onto the stone paved path of the shrine. Mikey’s posture was taut, like a string that was stretched to the point of snapping. His words and his every move seemed calculated.

Takemichi didn’t like it. So when he finished the story and Mikey fell silent, eyes trained somewhere faraway, he announced his intention.

“Mikey-kun, I’m not going back.”

Mikey’s dark eyes snapped to him, surprised. His brows ceased as he contemplated. “If you’re worrying about everyone, I give you my words, Takemitchy. I’ll definitely protect everyone’s future. Hina too. I’ll make sure that the same future won’t happen, so you don’t have to be so reluctant to part ways.”

Mikey smiled, the same smile as that time when he said Toman would never lose because he was here. The one that was both confident in the outcome and self-assured in his own abilities. But Takemichi saw it, a hint of deep emotion that Mikey tried desperately not to show others. Takemichi would never have noticed before, but after witnessing the future in Manila, he became aware of little clues and changes in expressions that Mikey’s body couldn’t hide.

Toman’s invincible leader always smiled when faced with difficulties. But that wasn’t the smile that Takemichi wanted.

歩道橋の向こうに冬のまちが見えたよ

On the other side of the overpass, I could see the city in the winter.

ひとかけらの孤独を手に僕は明日をつないでいる

With the fragments of loneliness in my hands, I am reaching toward tomorrow.

「こころで笑えるかな」いつかの声が聴こえた

“Can you smile with all your heart?” I heard a voice from some day.

白い息が空に消える

The breath vapor disappears into the sky.

寂しくはない駅へ急ぐよ

I’m not lonely. I’m rushing to the station.

Takemichi knew that Mikey would keep his promise. As a leader and as a friend, Mikey treasured the trust that Toman had put in him and would do his best to respond in kind. He wouldn’t break his promise.

But protecting everyone alone was a task that even adults struggled to accomplish. No matter how powerful Mikey was, he still needed a place or a person whom he could fall onto when he needed a break. Takemichi was determined to be that person. He would help Mikey protect everyone and carry parts of his burden. He didn’t want to see the hopelessness in Mikey ever again.

“I know, Mikey-kun. But I want to stay. I want to be with you and the rest of Toman.” He explained, staring at the deep dark eyes to convey the force of his sincerity. “I want to help you. Please let me help you protect everyone’s future. Please let me protect your future.”

Although Mikey didn’t act like he needed it, his future was also important and deserved to be protected.

Takemichi hoped that his expressive eyes would persuade Mikey for him, to let him know that Takemichi wouldn’t back down. Like it had played out when Takemichi had announced his intention to become one of Toman’s top leaders, Mikey would have to acknowledge it.

Takemichi could see Mikey’s resolution wavered. He reeled in his weakness a heartbeat later, but that short moment was enough for Takemichi to catch on.

“What about Hina?” Mikey pressed, resorting to bringing up a girl whom he knew Takemichi would throw his life away for if it meant she would live well. “She’s waiting for you in the future.”

Despite the reminder, Takemichi didn’t back down. “I have Hina-chan here too. I told her my decision, and Hina-chan said she would support me.”

Mikey bit his lips, his eyes straying sideways. It seemed like he had his plan, but whatever that plan was, it was being shaken by Takemichi’s words.

“I have everyone I ever want here with me, Mikey-kun. I want to stay. Not just for you and for Toman, but for myself too.”

It was as if the wall that Mikey had built around himself crumbled down like glass. In the first place, Mikey objected to Takemichi staying because he felt that the other was putting others before himself. He didn’t want Takemichi to throw away his chance to live as he wanted just because he was worried about the people in the past.

But Takemichi had said that he was staying for himself too.

The stubbornness that lined Mikey’s lips eased into a soft smile. “You already made up your mind even before I said anything.”

Takemichi grinned at his Toman leader. “I’m sorry,” he offered without really feeling sorry.

There was the sound of motorcycle engines at the edge of Takemichi’s hearing, a sound that had wormed its way into Takemichi’s heart and oddly assured him of belonging and comfort. It got louder by the seconds, until it stopped somewhere to his right, in the shrine’s parking lot that was obscured by a row of trees. Dull marching steps replaced the engine sound as a crowd of black-cladded people strode up to the stairs where Takemichi and Mikey were standing.

Something cold fell on the tip of Takemichi’s nose, before another one planted itself on his forehead. He looked up at the darkened sky and saw white flakes falling down in fluttering dances.

“It’s snowing...” Takemichi muttered.

“Strange, isn’t it? The weather forecast said it wouldn’t snow.” Holding his palm up to collect a small puff of white frozen water in his hand, Mikey gazed at it as the hundred members of Toman fell into neat rows behind their respective captains. Mitsuya and Smiley were still in their wheelchair, but they grinned widely.

「帰らないと決めたんだ」

“I have decided to not go back.”

はじまりを告げるように雪が降り始めた

As if to mark the beginning, snow started to fall.

“Thank you, Takemitchy. I have decided.” Mikey straightened his back and squared his shoulders, the very picture of Tokyo Manji Kai’s invincible leader. There was a gleam in his eyes that made Takemichi nodded and went down to his place right in front of Chifuyu and the rest of the first division.

Mikey looked over them confidently as he grinned. “Listen up, everyone!”

The entirety of Toman snapped to attention as the voice of their leader carried through the air. Soft snow continued to fall gently to the ground.

“We have faced a lot of hardship in our fight with Tenjiku, but we overcame them and emerged victorious. Toman is now Japan’s top gang!”

As he listened, Takemichi felt his chest puffed up in pride, and he was certain that every single person who carried Toman’s manji on the back of their uniform felt the same.

“We’ve created an era that will be handed down to generations to come, an era for delinquents that we have dreamed of! Thank you everyone for sticking with me and making Toman the best gang out there. But our dream doesn't end here. Toman will continue to show the world the way of delinquents we uphold! I hope that you all will be with me on this journey.”

Then, Mikey relaxed his posture and spoke a little more comfortably. “To let you all recover from the fight, there won’t be a gang meeting for a while. I will end the meeting here. Be careful while you go home and rest well.”

They bowed, deeply and respectfully, to the leader who had led them through many hardships and who had lost so much, before the crowd slowly receded along with the booming sound of bike roars.

The captains and vice-captains stayed for a while longer, discussing among themselves the outcome of the Kanto Incident and speculating about the future that awaited Toman, but gradually, they bid farewell one by one until the only occupants on the shrine ground were Takemichi and Mikey.

“Today, I called everyone here to announce the disbandment of Toman.” Mikey confessed, a slight smile still on his lips as he scanned the spacious ground that was fully occupied a mere moment ago. “I thought about it, the future you told me. No matter what timelines, something always goes badly. The root of it all is me. Toman goes bad because I go bad. I thought that by disbanding Toman, everyone will still be able to live a happy life even when I inevitably fall into darkness.”

Takemichi almost stopped breathing. He had a hard time believing his ears. Mikey loved Toman. This gang was his pride and dream, but he was ready to throw all that hard work and passion away to ensure that everyone he cared about would have a good life.

“Mikey-kun...”

“But you give me hope. You changed my mind,” he continued, tearing his focus from the ground beneath the steps, and looked at Takemichi with pleading eyes. “That’s why, Takemitchy, when you think I am losing myself. You definitely have to scold me and bring me back, okay?”

Mikey’s stability was his responsibility now, but Takemichi was up to the task. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked straight at his leader and friend. “I will, Mikey-kun! Definitely!” He yelled confidently, putting all his determination into the sentence that he uttered.

Takemichi was rewarded with a big, wide smile that he had been longing to see on Mikey’s face. Mikey’s eyebrows smoothened, losing the sharpness that had permanently been etched onto them for a few seconds as the corner of his eyes relaxed with the movement of his cheeks. This Mikey was glowing, moonlight reflecting on the snow in his hair.

“You’re my hero, Takemitchy.”

歩いていこう歩いていこう

Let’s walk forward. Let’s walk forward.

僕は「今」を生きていくよ

I will continue to live in the “present.”

傷ついても何度も信じたいよ

Even if I get hurt, I want to believe, no matter how many times.

この手をこの日々を君と泣いて君と笑って僕は強くなれたんだろう

Within these hands, within these days, crying with you, laughing with you, has made me stronger.

君がくれた言葉はここにあるよ

The words that you told me are right here with me.

そうだよ歩いていこう

Yes, let’s walk forward.

[END]

#TokyoRevengers #東卍 #東リベ #東京卍リベンジャーズ #mikey x takemichi #hinata x takemichi #tokyo revengers #tokyo manji gang #sano manjiro #takemichi hanagaki #hinata tachibana #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo manji revengers #Youtube

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yourmcu · 4 years

Text

Wish You Were Here (ii)

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader, Peter Parker x Stark!reader (platonic)

Summary:

an Infinity War/Endgame AU where Tony Stark’s daughter (you) is one of half the population that vanishes in the snap, Tony finds out later on when he arrives back to Earth, devastated, then you come back like the others to help fight Thanos.

Word count: 3,115

A/n: (moved to the end of the fic!)

Warnings: angst, death, swearing, Morgan’s a cutie! and no seriously I miss him so much

read it on ao3!

Part 1

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

Just like the others, you were brought back when the Avengers succeeded in retrieving all the infinity stones.

You're laying on the ground at the same place you were last time: Wakanda. Once you gain consciousness you struggle to get up, your legs wobbly.

“Hello?” You call out, but you're alone, can’t even contact anyone since your suit is out of power. You have no clear memory of what happened, just that you had an anxiety attack while Natasha held you, then you blacked out and - that’s it.

You felt a strong breeze and footsteps behind you.

“[Y/N] Stark,” a man’s voice says. “Come with me.”

The man is ancient looking, had a cape and his facial hair weirdly reminds you of Tony’s. “Who are you? And how long was I out?” You look at a sparking yellow portal far behind him, “did you do that?”

“Stick together and stick with Wong,” the man calls out before the portal closes. You have no idea who he was talking to since they already got in. “Doctor Stephen Strange. We need to find Pepper Potts and... get you suited.”

“I already am suited it’s just - no juice. What’s going on?”

“It’s been five years. It’s time, your father and the others need our help to defeat Thanos,” Doctor Strange opens up another portal to an unfamiliar cabin. Your eyes light up at the mention of Tony. “Quickly. We do not have much time.”

Five years? Unbelievable. That’s just insane. You like sleeping a lot but you couldn’t imagine being asleep for five long years.

“Are - are you sure we’re in the right pla - okay, sorry, don’t have much time, yeah,” you knock on the door when Doctor Strange gives you a stern and impatient look. It gets answered right away.

“[Y/N]? Oh my god,” Pepper says breathlessly. You could feel her sobbing while she hugs you tightly.

“Hey, you guys didn’t tell me you moved,” you frown. “Is all my stuff here? Mr. Strange wants me to get ready and this isn’t the only suit I have-”

“Doctor Strange.”

“It’s upstairs, last room on the left,” Pepper smiles as she wipes her tears. You nod and went up the stairs as the magic doctor told her everything.

All your stuff were in boxes and your spare iron suit was standing in a corner. You wiped away the dust off and checked if it was in good condition. It was ready to go.

You quickly charged the weapons and blasters on the suit, and you still needed to-

You hear a small gasp from behind the door.

Confused, you turn around to see a girl with an amazed smile on her face. “Y/N!”

You cautiously walk over to the small girl, “yeah, I’m Y/N, what’s your name?”

“Morgan,” she replies, then her eyes widen as she hides something behind her back. “Daddy said I can borrow your stuff as long as I put it back. They all look really cool.”

You still aren’t sure, but you start to put the pieces together in your mind: you were ‘gone’ for five years, this girl is living with Pepper, and if you guessed right, ‘daddy’ is Tony.

She’s your sister.

“It’s okay, and thanks,” she gives you a small hug which you return slightly, you feel a smile growing on your face since you find her really precious. “It’s nice to meet you, Morgan.

“Hey, so, there’s this weirdo man downstairs and he wants me and Pep - mom to do an errand for him,” you say to her once you remember you have to go. Morgan nods understandingly, “we can play and catch up when I get back, okay? That’s a promise.”

She runs back to her room and you get suited up, power at its maximum.

“Welcome back, Ms. Stark.”

“Glad to be. I missed you - actually, how Dad’s doing? Is he alright?”

“Mr. Stark had a concussion earlier, but as of now he is waking up again.”

“Oh,” you exhale and start worrying about him a bit. “Okay. That’s fine, I guess,”

Once you go back down a portal was already open and a nanny by the door (you assumed for Morgan). You fly right in before it closed up.

“Holy shit.”

There's armies coming out of many different portals, from people to aircrafts, to mutants. You all gather at the Avengers compound, or what used to be the compound.

“I forgot to mention,” you point out and Pepper turns to you, “That’s a pretty badass suit.”

You could feel Pepper roll her eyes from inside her suit. You follow her as she flies all the way to the front.

Your eyes dart everywhere to look for Tony. And there he is, getting up from the ground and flying back to the Avengers. He looks worn out, ragged, tired; you notice before his iron head covered him up. There’s so many people that you doubt he even saw you. God, you miss him so much.

Cap, Thor, Rhodey, Clint, Peter, Wanda, Bucky, Sam, Bruce - or Hulk, everyone was there, but where’s Natasha?

“Avengers!” Cap shouts, a hand extended as he catches Mjolnir without stumbling - whoa, what? - “assemble.”

That’s it. The battle begins.

It's your first time using your backup suit, you obviously didn’t have the time to test it out first. Good thing it works fine.

You're flying around, shooting enemies whenever they get in your way and helping anyone on your side who needed it.

What got you confused (not that you were complaining) was how the other Avengers were a bit too happy to see you than they normally should. You brushed it off though, they probably just love you so much like you love them.

“Aye, mind if you launch me? I need to be over there,” a raccoon holding a gun states and pointed to the direction. You recognize him immediately.

"Sure thing, bud,” you obliged, grabbing him, levitating off the ground and to thrust your iron arm forward like a cannon.

After a while the battle died down a bit and you saw Tony embracing Peter in a distance.

You smile sadly. Peter’s your best friend, but you really wish that it’s you who Tony was hugging.

Your jealousy fades when one of those giant flying Chitauri makes its way to their direction, ready to attack.

“Friday, activate the mega blaster,” you fly closer to the pair.

“Which one?” For fuck’s sake, Friday,

“The biggest one, please, now!” Once the blaster's out, you aim at the monster who's literally meters away from Tony and Peter and fire. When it crashes to the ground lifeless, you land beside them.

“Sorry, that was,” you pant, opening up your iron helmet. “It was literally going to eat you guys, so, uh, sorry for ruining the moment.”

Peter smiles, nodding and Tony looks at you as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He hadn’t seen you in so long that your sudden presence fucking took his breath away. You're here, alive and back. If you guys weren’t in such a situation he’d go on and tell you about all the things you missed.

“I’m probably in trouble, right? I mean.. look Dad, I’m in a battlefield,” you laugh nervously, shooting a creature from the corner of your eye. “In my defense, Doctor Strange was the one who came to me, I didn’t-”

You're cut off when Tony wraps his arms around you. Right now he didn’t care about your excuses as to why you were here. But if Tony from five years ago could see you now he’d definitely ground you for life and take away your lab privileges.

“You’re doing great.” his voice slightly muffled from the hug. You let out a squeak, not expecting that from him at all. Tony smiles and plants a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, kid.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

The battle carries on and you're being swarmed by more enemies. You got really beaten up as it went on - what really knocked you out was when Thanos’ spaceship rained fire.

Unable to get shelter, you try your best to dodge everything that came out of the ship. You could barely see anymore because of the chaos and the clouds of dust everywhere.

“Ms. Stark, you need to get somewhere safe! Your heart rate is also increasing dangerously fast.”

“Not - not helping, Fri-” you get cut off when one of the blue fires hit you on the head, sending you to the ground unconscious.

----

“[Y/N], come on buddy, you need to get up,” Peter. He found your body a while after he handed the gauntlet to Captain Marvel. The battle's still ongoing, but he’s focusing on keeping you away from it while he waits for you to wake up.

You quickly sit up and gasp for air, looking at your best friend. “Did we win? Did we - wait, Peter, look out!” You push him out of the way when a group of monsters make their way to both of you. They turn into dust before they could lunge forward, however.

“...what the..?”

He helps you up and the both of you run to where Rhodey and Tony are at. You nearly break down when you see the state he's in.

“Mr. Stark? Hey - Mr. Stark? It’s Peter... and look, Y/N’s here- she’s okay, sir-” While Peter tries to talk to him you kneel down beside him, placing a hand on his arm while you do your best not to cry.

Then he looks at you, mouthing it’s okay.

But you know it isn’t. On your part, anyway. It seems really selfish but you don’t know what you’d do without him. Tony has always been there for you, he always kept you going.

Pepper kneels beside you, gave you a reassuring look before looking at her husband. “Friday?”

“Life functions critical.” That makes you whimper, pulling yourself closer to Tony.

“Tony, look at me. We’re going to be okay. You can rest now.”

You nod, sniffling, resting your head on his shoulder lightly. “I love you. I’ll take good care of Morgan, dad. Don’t worry.”

When the light of his arc reactor goes out, that’s when both you and Pepper break down, comforting each other around Tony’s lifeless body.

----

Dresses really weren’t your thing. So were skirts and shorts. But you wore a short, black dress for Tony’s funeral. You didn’t care if you weren’t comfortable, it was for him. You’d do anything for him.

You barely got any sleep since the battle, you couldn’t now that he was gone. It didn’t feel right. You had no idea how to cope, how you could move on from this.

What made things worse is when Steve and Thor told you about what happened to Natasha, that’s why you didn’t see her in the battle. She gave her own life just to get everybody else back.

You must’ve zoned out again because Rhodey and Pepper are now setting something up in the living room. An Iron Man helmet.

“S’that going to be new decoration?” You force out a chuckle, sniffling afterwards, sitting down on the sofa behind them.

Iron Man’s eyes light up when Rhodey presses a button. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Tony sitting on a chair, a hologram.

He turns it off before hologram Tony could say a word. “That’s,” he sighs, “that’s for later.”

“I can’t do this,” you get up, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t. I’ll - I’ll break down, I know I will. Can I take a walk? Please?”

“Take your time.” Steve gives you a comforting smile.

Pepper nods. “Some air would do you good. Be back when it’s time, okay?”

You take longer calming yourself down in the woods near the cabin. You cried, you mumbled to yourself, paced back and forth,

Cause a picture is all that I have, To remind me that you're never coming back If I picture it now it just makes me sad And right now I just wish you were here.

You stop when you heard leaves crunching. Peter just arrived, along with his aunt.

“Hey,” Peter silently greets, pulling you into a hug. It's obvious he isn’t getting any sleep either. “Are you okay?”

“Of course not,” you murmur, pulling away. “I should probably head back inside.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

You slowly walk to the porch, stopping when you hear Tony’s voice inside. You decide to just wait outside the door, you definitely don’t want to see his face, not right now, it'd be too painful.

“If we pull this thing off, and get everyone back,” Tony pauses. “Tell [Y/N] I left something in her room, yeah?”

Then he does the secret rhythm to a clap only the both of you memorized and knew.

You assume he’s done, since you don’t hear his voice anymore after that. Everyone goes out of the house and you hold Morgan’s hand as all of you walk to the lake for one last goodbye.

After that you talked to everybody who came for a while. Bruce, Steve, Clint and Thor tried to get you to look at the bright side, which you appreciated, you met the rest of the guardians who came, Doctor Strange who gave you a sympathetic look and apologized for your loss, and the guy you remembered Tony told you about, the one who helped him when his suit powered down and got stranded years ago. You made a mental note to ask him to hang out with you and Peter sometime.

“Hey... I’m heading to bed now,” you inform Pepper, Happy and Rhodey (both men were staying at the cabin for a few days) who're in the living room staring at the fireplace.

Before you go to your own room you check up on Morgan, who’s fast asleep. She's wearing her little Iron Man glove, pressed to her chest. She doesn’t deserve this.

Your room is still unpacked and they just sort of removed your bed from the compound and moved it here. You sit on the bed, already thinking of ways to move on that you know wouldn’t work anyway.

You remember your father claimed he had something for you here, so taking a deep breath, you clap the secret rhythm,

“Dad... you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you whine, covering your face with both palms.

Another hologram.

“Hey legacy,” Tony chuckles, looking at you. You shake your head at the ridiculous nickname, also avoiding his eyes, which you’re sure would make you cry if you did look. “I... uh, this is just a little video. For you. Sure you won’t see this but... I like to pretend I could still talk to you. I miss you, a lot.”

You fiddle with your hands, still not looking at him but you listen to him talk.

“But we’ll see. We’ll figure something out. I hope to see you soon, [Y/N]. I love you.”

He has both hands in his pockets as he looked at you with a warm smile, before disappearing.

But he reappears a second after.

“We’re doing it tomorrow. The... uh, time travel thing.”

The stress in his voice make you look up at him, but this time he isn’t looking at you. It seems like he was pacing while he recorded it.

“I just finished doing one of these for, well, in case I somehow die while we attempt to do it. If you think about it, it’s highly likely. Going back in time, yada yada, possibilities are endless,” he sighs. “But I figured I owe my firstborn a final message if that happens, right?”

“Honestly I feel,” he makes motions with his hands. “Bit anxious... right now. We were the only ones helping each other out when one of us felt this way but... seeing as you’re not here, I just have to deal with it.”

“[Y/N], look at me,” Tony crouches down to be in level with you, like he knew you were actually here watching this, like he was actually there, the one talking to you. But it’s how he programmed it. “You wanna know what my best decision in life was?”

“Yeah?”

“Taking you in,” he smiles. “When we fight you always bring up that I had the choice not to, and you were right. But guess what? I have no regrets.”

You smile, blinking back tears.

“You mean the world to me, I just feel like I don’t say it enough,” Tony cocks his head slightly, still looking at you. “We both have no idea what the afterlife’s like but that won’t matter, I’ll always look after you girls.”

“Speaking of which, your sister reminded me so much of you when she was first born, god, I still wish you were around for that. I know you’ll love her, she’s just brilliant. Take care of her for me, yeah?”

“Maybe there’s a way to get you back,” Tony sighs at your words, already knowing that it’s not going to work out. “I - I just need some time. I can bring you back, Dad-”

He places a hand on your shoulder. You couldn’t feel it, but you did feel a light breeze. “The deed’s already done, honey. Don’t worry about me. Come on, don’t cry,” he kneels in front of you as you let yourself go, crying hard into your palms.

Don't say everything's meant to be, Cause you know it's not what I believe Can't help but think that it should've been me In the end, I just wish you were here.

You open your eyes when you hear a beep, even Tony turns around. The recording had ten seconds left. “The recording’s about to end, [Y/N],”

“I love you tons,” you whisper, looking up at him.

Tony smiles, caressing your cheek. “I love you 3,000.”

Yeah, they say you're in a better place, Either way I still wish you were here ‘Cause they say you're in a better place In the end, I just wish you were here.

----

so here’s part 2. I miss him y’all, it’s missing-Tony-so-much hours for me

just like the first part, I got the title from this amazing song by Neck Deep which you can listen to here.

[taglist: @creation-magician (which I would like to personally thank for wanting to be tagged)]

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queerderpyturtle · 3 years

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some old rambles about discord and starswirl that I dug up

I been thinkin. Bout Discord and Starswirl. And how they probably knew each other. And what their relationship could've been. And what that means for the rest of their arcs in the show.

From what we know (and what I remember) Discord came into power after Starswirl and the pillars were sent to Limbo, but Celestia and Luna started ruling Equestria sometime between those two events, because they were too young to remember or care about the other pillars, but they banished Discord.

We don't know a lot about Discord's past, but I imagine that when he first came to Equestria (at which point I assume he was fairly young by draconequus standards), he wasn't exactly given a warm welcome. Ponies were probably absolutely terrified of this horse-headed, bat-winged, lion-pawed, snake-tailed freak of nature, and there's a good chance they would've driven him out of town full force. His first taste of ponykind was rejection.

So, later, he tries again. He makes himself a pony disguise-- a handsome unicorn stallion named Atlas-- and sets off to learn more about Equestria. And it works! He's able to make friends, live amongst ponies, and study Equestria magic. He actually gets pretty good at doing through his unicorn horn, so much so that he manages to get into a prestigious magic school for gifted unicorns. "Atlas" is of course still a troublemaker, though. He pulls pranks, annoys his teachers, breaks the rules, and just generally has no respect for authority. And why should he? The entire society that Equestria is built on is corrupt beyond all belief, stuck in its ways, and downright hostile towards any creature outside of it. They didn't deserve his damn respect. Equestria itself was fairly new as well, and the ponies themselves were still getting used to each other. It was all one giant powderkeg, and Atlas was honestly excited to see what would happen when it went off. So he stuck around, if only to cause more chaos in this personal playpen country of his. If he wasn't the best student in all of his classes, his teachers probably would've strangled him after a day.

And then one day, he found himself in a class with the famous Odin Starswirl, a magically gifted unicorn with a penchant for proving others wrong and keeping a clear head while doing it. He was proper, eloquent, studious, respectable-- a perfect pony for Atlas to torment. Except it turns out that Odin is ridiculously, insufferably hard to annoy. When Atlas knocked over his books, or spilled water on his cloak, or made fun of his sloppy hornwriting, Odin simply responded with a sigh and a quick cantrip to fix whatever the stallion had ruined with his antics. This did not please Atlas at all. He spent more time hanging around Odin than he did hanging out with his more troublesome buddies, just to try and get a rise out of him. But he never could. If anything, they were becoming... friends. Atlas's biting remarks turned into light-hearted jabs and playful scoldings.

"Odin, for heaven's sake, if you don't take a break from studying to shave for once in your damn life, I'm going to have to start calling you Starswirl the Bearded!"

His destruction of property turned into casual acts of kindness.

"Yes, I brought your saddlebag. I knew you'd forget it, you scatterbrain. We're lucky you even remember to eat."

His contempt for Odin's huffy nature turned into giving the unicorn an easy out for boring social events hosted by his equally uppity parents.

"C'mon, Stars, let's get out of here. I know a place nearby that sells elderberry tea."

"You know I can't leave. This is an important party."

"Important to whom, exactly, my dear?"

"To my parents!"

"Your parents. Well, last time I checked, they weren't you."

"...Fine. Thirty minutes, and then you're bringing me back."

Before long, Odin was regularly sneaking off to join Atlas and his friends on their escapades. He found himself strangely drawn to the unicorn, in spite of-- or maybe because of his rebellious and carefree nature. He was so different from the ponies Odin was used to, so sure of himself, so headstrong. Odin would be a fool to say he wasn't slowly getting attached to the scoundrel.

Atlas noticed this, of course. He was honestly surprised! Who knew a straight-edged young scholar like Odin would be so willing to stray from the path of monotony? And that was all Atlas wanted. To cause a little chaos in Odin's life. It wasn't as if there were moments in which he looked at the unicorn and considered giving up his whole scheme to enjoy a happy life alongside his... friend? Companion? Fellow associate? Lord, what even where they? Atlas had never really had a friend that was interested in any part of him other than the chaotic part, and Discord hadn't had any friends at all. He took a leap of faith one day to ask Odin if they were, in fact, friends, and Odin responded with an aloof "Yes, I do believe so." And that was that, wasn't it? He had a friend. A real friend.

Over the next few years, Odin and Atlas became inseparable. It was a thing to see, the two of them trotting down the streets of Canterlot together. They couldn't have been more different, from the way they walked to the way they spoke, but they were as close as ponies could get. Odin gave Atlas a safe place to practice magic, study Equestrian history, and discuss the library's old scrolls and texts from ancient unicorns. Atlas gave Odin an out from his mundane life as a trophy child of the wealthy Starswirl family. When Odin started tutoring two unicorn fillies with promising skills in arcane magics, Atlas was the first of Odin's friends he introduced them to (the fillies lovingly started referring to the stallions as their honorary uncles). When Atlas accidentally used too much sticking potion in a prank and stuck one of his teachers to the side of the school for three days, Odin helped him sneak into the Starswirl mansion to hide, scolding him between laughs the whole way. They each saw more in each other than the average pony could ever see; Odin was more than a prodigy, and Atlas was more than an annoyance.

And if there were, perhaps, by some miracle, some hint of... romance beneath their friendship that neither side would admit to, well. That was their own business. If they enjoyed cuddling up on the couch to read from the same book, nopony needed to know. If they relished each "accidental" brush of hooves or tails when they walked together, nopony would be any the wiser. If Odin longed for the day when Atlas would use those strong forearms of his to pin the stallion against the nearest wall and just kiss him already, and felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life when Atlas finally did...

Then maybe that was just fine. And for a while, it was. But there was always that itch at the back of Atlas's mind, that knowledge that their relationship was fleeting, because it was all, in truth, based on a lie. If Odin found out who Atlas really was, what Atlas really was, it would all crumble to pieces like a biscuit that had been left out in the sun. Atlas... no, Discord hated that the thought of losing Odin-- a simple pony whose life was a speck of dust in his immortal existence, who would be a pile of ashes in the ground before Discord had even had his second molt-- made him so unreasonably upset. He'd known going into this that becoming invested in the lives of the ponies in Equestria was foolish. He'd never meant for it to get this far. He'd come here to futz with the government a bit, maybe start a few riots or terrorize a few queens. He never wanted to find Odin. So why wasn't he willing to let him go?

Shit, he really was in too deep.

And yet, Atlas and Odin found themselves ever-so-slowly, but ever-so-surely falling in love.

But nothing gold can stay.

Odin had always known Atlas was a bit of an anarchist. It was one of the things he admired about the stallion-- his ability to let go of the norms that Equestria had built for itself and be his own pony. The problem was that Atlas seemed to have a problem with how Equestria treated creatures who weren't ponies. Griffons, yaks, kirin, and the like. Equestria had never been a big trading country, or a big socializing-with-other-nations country. They kept to themselves. Of course, this meant that xenophobia was rampant, and that the fear of the outside world was instilled into the hearts of almost every pony there. But why should Atlas care so much?

Odin asked him as much when the two stallions were studying together in Odin's room, and Atlas became noticeably more tense. He gave Odin a simple "I just think it's wrong," hoping to avoid the subject, but Odin pressed him for more details. Sure, Equestria was problematic, but all in all, it was a good country. Was there really anything so bad about wanting to keep it the way it was? Atlas tried to keep himself from snapping, tried to keep himself from saying something he'd regret, but hearing these things from a pony he loved hurt him deeply.

"It's not about tradition or preservation, Odin. It's about the fact that Equstria has never been willing to change. Before the unifications of the species, it was conflict between the pony species. After, it was conflict between the classes. Now, it's conflict between countries. Just because the problems are external doesn't mean they aren't there," Atlas told him.

"But it isn't exactly a pressing matter. It hardly effects us at all. I guess I just don't understand," Odin replied.

"Of course you don't."

It was said so quietly that Odin couldn't quite tell if he'd been meant to hear it, yet with such venom that he couldn't ignore it. He chanced a confused look and a "What?"

Atlas stood. "Of course you don't," he repeated. "You're the perfect example of a high-class, magically advanced, want-for-nothing unicorn pony. You're perfectly content to live in your little bubble of mediocrity, never trying to do anything to change the world around you. You think there's nothing you can do to help others, so you don't even try. You think they'll sort themselves out. You're complacent, Odin. You've always been."

"Complacent! And just what is wrong with that? I'm doing my best in my own life and I have no responsibility to try and fix the lives of others! Is it so wrong to focus on myself?"

"Of course not! But you can't just pretend that you're the only one with problems! I see it every day, Odin. You act like you're on top of the world, like you're above feeling sorry for others. You don't even care about them. About me!"

Odin looked hurt. "Atlas, I-- of course I care about you! You mean everything to me!"

"And just how much would it take to change that? Telling you my real name isn't Atlas? Telling you I'm not from Equestria? Telling you I look like this?!"

In a flash, Atlas removed all the disguise spells he had on himself, leaving him-- Discord-- in his true form. A long, sleek body covered in brown fur. The misshapen head of a goat, framed by a shaggy black mane and two short horns. Wings, legs, and a tail that had all been taken from different animals, stuck together like a gruesome collage. Odin's eyes trailed up the creature's body slowly, trying and failing to comprehend what he was seeing. He began to back up.

Discord could feel each step he took like knives driving into his heart. Odin was afraid.

The draconequus scoffed. "You're all the same."

"A-Atlas, I..."

"Discord. My name is Discord. I am a draconequus from the tribe of the western Badlands, sent to Equestria to study its magic. When I first came here, I was avoided like the plague. Ponies wanted nothing to do with me. They saw what they were told to see in me-- a monster. A hideous, murderous, blood-thirsty monster. They threw me out because I was different."

Odin was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. "I think I n-need some time to... to process all of this. Alone."

Discord couldn't have stopped the pain he felt from showing on his face if he'd somehow managed to summon all the magic on the planet. He gritted his teeth, blinked back tears, and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

It was the last conversation he would have with Odin for a millennium.

That night, Odin lay in bed, his mind racing, working overtime to try and figure out what in Tartarus had just happened. Firstly, he and Atlas had just had their first real lovers' spat. Except that those typically didn't lead to one of the ponies involved revealing that he was a creature from a faraway land, but whatever. Secondly, "Atlas" was a draconequus named Discord. That would take some getting used to, of course, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Thirdly, Atlas-- who was actually Discord-- had stormed out in a huff without saying goodbye. Well, that's just how things were sometimes. Nothing to lose sleep over.

When he awoke the next morning, the first though this mind supplied him with was, "Oh sweet merciful heavens I've ruined everything." He rushed to school early, hoping to find his friend (Boyfriend? Lover? Shit, I love him and I just cast him out like an old dish towel), but the stallion was nowhere in sight. Odin asked around, tried everything to get into contact with Atlas/Discord, but nothing came up. He had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Instead of dealing with all the emotional turmoil that came with that situation, Odin threw himself into his studies. His magic grew stronger and stronger, fueled by rage and pain and sadness. He pushed Celestia and Luna to become powerful sorcerers like himself, pouring every hour that he didn't spend practicing magic himself into teaching them. He tried to forget about Discord entirely, and move on. He didn't need some handsome bad-boy keeping him sane to be successful. He only needed himself. That was all he would ever need. Odin was gone. There was only the great and honorable Starswirl the Bearded.

When the sirens invaded Equestria, he agreed to help defeat them. When Stygian came to him looking for friendship that Starswirl hadn't even offered to the other "pillars," he turned him away coldly. When he realized the only way to defeat the Pony of Shadows was by sending the seven of them into limbo, he refused, at least at first. But the citizens of Equestria persisted. He was the great Starswirl, he had a duty to protect them and keep Equestria safe. He tried to tell them that the consequences of the spell were too drastic, but they would not listen. Starswirl had no choice but to go through with it.

Discord, meanwhile, had been staying on the outskirts of Equestria, brooding and cursing Odin's name. When he found out that Odin had vanished, however, and the circumstances of his disappearance... well, he wasn't happy. Despite everything, he still loved the idiot, and he had never wanted something so terrible to happen to him. Odin would have never agreed to something like that without being pushed by the Equestrian citizens. What right did they have to decide who lived and who died? Why did they get to sacrifice their most beloved sorcerer for their own safety when there were other options? Was this the price they paid for harmony?

That wouldn't do. That simply wouldn't do at all. If these pitiful excuses for equines thought the pony of shadows was a threat to their delicate balance, he would show them true chaos. He dethroned the country's leader, took over, and made the ponies of Equestria suffer like he did.

And then Celestia and Luna came along. When had they gotten so big? So powerful? How had they grown wings? Were they seriously going to try and take him down? Lulu and Celly, the sweet little fillies who had once made him flower crowns and taught him songs and invited him to tea parties. They were going to try and make him surrender. How adorable. He wasn't going to fight them, of course-- he still held a great affection for them, no matter how long he'd been gone. He would let them do their little song and dance, and them send them on their way.

Of course it was hard for the sisters, too. They had looked up to Discord back in the day, he and Starswirl both. Now they were using the magic that Starswirl had taught them to defeat someone he had once loved. Someone he probably still loved. But freedom is never free, and the sisters were resigned to their fate. They harnessed the power of the elements of harmony, turned Discord to stone, and hoped silently that someday, somehow, he would return to them, and he and Starswirl would find each other again.

#Mlp #mlp discord #mlp starswirl #Starswirl the bearded #mlp Fanfic #fanfic #felt like throwing this in here too

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tumblezwei · 4 years

Text

Why Kyoko Mogami is the GOAT

And why y’all are SLEEPING ON HER

Spoilers for Skip Beat, but honestly idk how much of the story I’m gonna get into for this since I’m flying by the seat of my pants. Still, read at your own risk.

Also this is LONG lmao

Kyoko Mogami is a 16 year old middle school drop-out that works two jobs day and night in order to pay rent for the Tokyo apartment that she lives in all by herself 6 days out of the week. Going into the first chapter, there are three things immediately clear about her.

1. She’s cheerful, kind, and also kind of batshit insane. From the first moment we meet her, her personality is throwing itself at our faces and refusing to calm down. (apologies for the bad quality images, I work with what I have)

2. She loves Sho Fuwa, her childhood friend and rising rock-star that asked Kyoko to come with him to Tokyo after middle school graduation to support his career

3. Nothing matters to her as long as Sho is happy. Sure, she laments that her love for girly dresses, cosmetics, and fairy tale princesses will never amount to anything since all of her money is going toward paying the rent on her and Sho’s apartment, but that’s fine. As long as her precious Sho is happy, so is she.

And, as you’d expect, things go to shit pretty quickly afterwards. During one her off days from her night job, Kyoko decides to visit Sho at his recording studio with dinner. After sneaking in past the hoards of squealing teenage girls waiting outside to catch a glimpse of him, she overhears him talking to his manager.

“I’m the heir to a prominent Japanese inn, do you think I’ve ever cooked or cleaned all by myself?” She hears.

“That’s awful,” the manager replies, “you make it sound as if you brought her just to be your maid.”

“She’s basically been my maid since I was a kid, or else I wouldn’t have brought her along with me. It’s not like I forced her, I asked her a question and gave her the choice. It’s only natural that she’d work her butt off to support me.”

And he just keeps going. Once he’s made enough to live independently, he’ll send her back. How dare his parents try to set him up with a plain-looking girl like her. She doesn’t even wear make-up!

As images of flash in Kyoko’s mind of standing in front of make-up stores with no money to buy anything, she takes Sho’s words just as well as one might expect. By unleashing the box of tucked away emotions she’s held in her chest and swearing to take revenge on Sho for using her and throwing her away like this.

. I failed to mention this at the start, but the beginning of the chapter introduces us to the most important piece of symbolism in Kyoko’s character development: Pandora’s box.

For Kyoko’s entire life, she’s held this box inside herself. In myth, once this box was opened, all of the evil of the world is unleashed, never to be put back inside. So for Kyoko, the metaphor is quite apt. Hearing Sho’s words unlocks the box and unleashes a kind of anger that not even Kyoko knew she was capable of, a kind of determination and vengeance that has her dyeing her hair and staking outside of a talent manager’s house for days on end to whittle down his willpower and give her a chance to audition at Sho’s rival talent agency, LME. Every time she hears his name, or sees his picture, she’s filled with myopic sense of rage that no one can calm her down from.

Her sole mission in life is to get revenge on Sho Fuwa, a sentiment that finds her at odds with LME’s top actor, Ren Tsuruga, who sees her one-sided quest for vengeance as an insult to people who truly love acting. But as if Kyoko cares, she needs to get revenge!

I’m gonna drop the pseudo-narration for a bit because I actually need to skip over a fair bit of plot to get to what I think makes Kyoko incredibly compelling, outside of being the funniest female character in existence. We’re going to jump forward in time to Kyoko’s first acting gig. Well, not so much an gig as much as it is a competition. She’s been tasked to play the role of a dignified inn keeper that’s serving tea to the main male character. After having broken her ankle and been challenged by the real lead actress, this is her first shot to prove she has the talent to make it in the acting industry. So in order to immerse herself in the role, she utilizes her experience of being trained by Sho’s mother to take care of the inn that his family owned. It’s here that we finally understand that Kyoko giving up her life back home for Sho wasn’t just a spur of the moment decision brought about by infatuation. It was something she’d been doing for her entire life. Everything she knows how to do, every skill she’s obtained, has been because of Sho. And this is the moment that she realizes that fact too. (the first image is from after the scene is done, wherein Kyoko cannot snap herself out of her character due to the lessons she was taught as a child, despite her sitting position making her broken ankle unbearably painful).

Even her righteous fury at being left in the dust is focused solely on Sho fucking Fuwa. Is there anything that she has than can be attributed to her own success? Does she have any skills that can’t be traced back to trying to make Sho happy? Who is Kyoko Mogami? Is she worth anything without Sho?

And I want to make this clear right now, because I know the term “shoujo” makes people hesitate. THIS is what Skip Beat is about. Kyoko’s journey to find out who she is, and with every new role she takes on and with every experience she gains, she becomes just a little closer to finding out who she is and what she wants for herself.

We watch as her love for acting slowly eclipses her thirst for revenge. A few arcs after this moment, she is contacted about a job to act in a music PV with none other than Sho himself. In the beginning, she accepts the job in order to prove to Sho that she’s climbing the ladder and catching up to him, but her performance suffers whenever she thinks about her revenge. And what saves her isn’t even putting aside her revenge, but prioritizing her own feelings above it. She wants to act! She wants to put on a good performance! So she needs to put aside those feelings of anger and draw from her past experiences to create a character that leaves Sho in the dust.

I’m gonna bet y’all are wondering about the romance, though. Because this is a shoujo, and of course it has romance. But hey, guess what? That romance is equally compelling and is an integral part to Kyoko’s character too. In the first....5 or so arcs, Ren Tsuruga ‘s relationship with Kyoko crawls it’s way out of the it’s rocky beginnings, and he slowly becomes a mentor figure to Kyoko. He’s her superior in acting, and she looks to him often for support and guidance when she’s struggling to perform a role or having difficulty with her fellow actors. To Kyoko, Ren is the goal, his level of acting is what she aspires to be, so she can stand on equal footing with him. Before there’s even a whiff of romance between them, there develops a solid bond of trust and support. And once the romance starts. Hoo boy.

To fully understand why it’s taken 12 years irl for a confession scene to finally take place, we need to bring back the metaphor of Pandora’s box. Because not everything escaped Pandora’s box when it was opened. Pandora was able to shut the box just in time for one thing to stay locked inside: hope. In the myth, this is a good thing, while negative and vile emotions run free, hope still exists within people to become better. But for Kyoko, the box isn’t a safe place, it’s a repressed place. She spent her entire life locking away the negative emotions she felt, placing a smile on her face and hoping for Sho’s happiness. And when those emotions are set lose, she locks the box back up, sealing something else inside. Her hope, her confidence in anything having to do with love.

It’s not just that Kyoko isn’t in love anymore, she feels as if she can’t be in love anymore, that she’s entirely incapable of it. The idea of falling in love with someone else terrifies her. What if she goes back to the way she was before? An empty shell that exists for other people and not herself. The box has been sealed tightly again, and by God this time she’s not going to let anything open it. And like, I don’t want to spoil much in this, as contradictory as that sounds. Because the scene where she realizes she loves Ren? One of the best fucking scenes in any romance manga ever.

And. God. I haven’t even touched on her mom. Kyoko’s desire for love, that became so warped under Sho and so desolate after his betrayal, can all stem back to Saena Mogami. A woman who, no matter what Kyoko did, rejected any affection that her child tried to give, and gave none in return. “Even a mother can hate her own child.” We get bits and pieces of what Kyoko’s mother was like, and the environment that a very young Kyoko was raised in before her mother left her in the care of Sho’s parents. And eventually we realize that Kyoko isn’t afraid of her love being rejected twice, but a third time.

Like, y’all, I’m not good at these kind of essays. I keep wanting to go off on tangents, nothing is ever focused, I spend to much time just reading the manga instead of writing this fucking post. But please believe me when I tell you that Kyoko Mogamis character development is like none other. She’s truly at the top of her genre and it’s an actual crime that she’s so underrated.

I HAVEN’T EVEN TALKED ABOUT KANAE, THE WEISS TO HER RUBY, THE TSUNDERE TO HER GENKI

Before Kyoko gets even a single arc with Ren, she gets two with Kanae. The first with Kanae as a central figure, and the second where Kanae is her support. She’s the one that gives Kyoko the eureka moment she needs to pull of her performance with Sho. They are one of the most developed and deep friendships in shoujo that I’ve ever seen AND Y’ALL NEED TO STOP SLEEPING ON IT. LOOK AT THESE TWO

And don’t take this poorly assembled post at face value, I’ve left out a lot of shit. Starting with how fucking funny this manga is. Kyoko’s special talent for her LME audition is peeling vegetables, there’s a running gag where Ren asks for her advice while she’s in a giant chicken costume, unaware that it’s her, the president of LME is an eccentric millionaire that likes to dress up in different themed costumes every day and loves throwing extravagant parties, Kyoko’s hobby is making voodoo dolls and talks to a miniature Ren doll whenever she needs encouragement or advice.

And it’s all packaged alongside some of the most compelling character development I’ve ever seen (for both Kyoko and Ren), and some absolutely heartbreaking drama. You will never know true pain until “I don’t have a daughter.”

Read this, ya’ll. You won’t regret it.

#I'm not going back over this because I KNOW it's not coherent but FUCK IT #skip beat #rambling #long post

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seventfics · 3 years

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Prickly Urchin

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Cursed Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Sigismund Dijkstra Rating: T (Swearing Language) Content Warnings: None Summary: Few people still alive can say they've met the emperor before his ascension to the Nilfgaardian throne. A young Count Sigismund Dijkstra is one of them. It's just that neither of them knew.

Read on AO3

* * *

“Ah, my friends. Let me introduce you to Count Sigismund.”

Three old gentlemen turn from their muted conversation to look at him—look up at him. Rare to find a man taller than himself, and today is not that day. Dijkstra keeps his smile pleasant as the eldest of the bunch gives him a firm handshake with a not-so-kind side-eye to his build.

This is the first of his ‘courtly’ parties.

In Dijkstra’s mind, the party is merely reconnaissance. In such small and comfortable confines, he can overhear the concerns of the noble elite as they are being spoken aloud, and not from a spy’s penned cipher. He can make note of their political conflicts with each other, their plans for retirement, and if any of it involves the Redanian crown.

He is an agent first. Count is just what the king has chosen him honorable of, and one more weapon to add to his slowly-expanding network.

Of course, attending personally means actually having to mingle and talk with the peacocking arseholes, which is a fucking pain in the bollocks.

He hates the attention his height affords him in times like these. Being noticed means more people bother him with questions and curiosities. But, it also brings whispers to him, names to remember and investigate later.

Adapting is part of a spy's job.

“I’m a humble servant of the king,” he tells the few who look to be snooping too closely at his unfamiliar presence.

“I am a lettered man of Oxenfurt,” he tells the ones who are searching for a status to preen about.

The rest simply get his name, and the evening fest continues.

He doesn’t care about what the evening is about. The important people, the connections, the information—that’s all that matters. Not the distasteful night’s attraction.

"You must stay for midnight, Sigismund. I've a delightful surprise planned for rare auction."

"Is that so?"

The rich love their parties, he knows, and oh how they love a little risqué presentation to end the night.

He is aware of what attending such a fete would also do to his reputation, but that is why, just as they bring out the girls who look too young to be drinking the chilled wine, he slips away into darkened hallways. No one will remember his face among the partying crowd. After a few rounds of drinks, no one will remember the face of the person that sat next to them all night. And he is counting on that.

Most of the guests have been asked to stay confined to the great hall, with servants moving in and out of special doors that connect to the residence’s kitchens. Dijkstra had been tracking the timing of the servant rotations, waiting for the right opportunity to slip through so his evening could start.

The manor is enormous, full of halls and a dozen small rooms, each with their own designated purpose. A book reading room. A letter reading room. A room that appears to be a library, with all of its books covered in dust as if no one’s moved them in a decade. Certainly the lord of the house has too much time in his fucking hands to have a room dedicated to books he won’t read.

Still, Dijkstra makes note of everything in his mental map. Such a place would rarely get visitors, none but a snoop like him on a night like this.

How strange though. A useless, dusty room for a dozen and more servants to ignore. The rest of the house looks so spotless. Smells like secrets get whispered inside these walls.

As he runs fingers through the spine of a book he recognizes from his old Oxenfurt days, he notices the uniform arc of furniture scraping the floor from repeated movement.

He never could resist a secret.

* * *

Of course he also hates musty cellar air worse than dust.

The side of the library’s shortest bookcase gave way to a slim doorway, one he had to squeeze through with effort. “Of–fuckin’–course there’s a bloody fuckin’ cellar under the fuckin’ richman’s house,” he says, mostly under his breath in case there’s someone at the other end of the sconce-lit hall. “It’s practically required decor. Need to make bloody note of that when I hire a mason for my own godsdamned manor...”

He slows at the small cells that emerge between shadows. There is a bear chained against the floor in one of them.

No—not a bear. Dijkstra squints in the lowlight. It’s long-limbed and man-shaped, with a net of spikes, or quills, sprouting out of its head and back.

Well, well. What a curious prize to have stashed away, is his intrigued train of thought.

The lock clicks when he inspects it, but the thing snaps its teeth at his fingers—suddenly close enough to grab him through the bars—and he is forced to push back to avoid losing a healthy digit. He can’t help the angry, “fuck off,” that comes out of reflex.

After its failed lunge, the creature assumes a defensive crouch. Although the chains keep it from scurrying to a dark corner, it still manages to create a significant distance where Dijkstra cannot touch it or its chain.

Strangely sharp eyes never move off of him, even from behind the shield of a wooly arm.

Dijkstra sniffs, and immediately grimaces at the damp, underground smell attacking his senses. “You’re a cursed thing, aren’t you. Smart. Maybe human once. Well,” he scowls harder at the grime and the pitiful secret inside a richman’s cellar, “you’re lucky I've no interest in mangy pets. I’ve also no taste for pointless cruelty and by the look of things upstairs, that's what's going to happen. So if you’re smart enough to understand a single fucking word I’m saying, get your spiney arse over here so I can pick the bloody lock of that chain.”

The creature stares at him for a gobsmacked, godsdamned minute. A minute that he feels inch by with building sweat, dreading an eavesdropper or worse, the lord coming down to poke and prod at its prize before his little midnight 'auction.'

Slowly, the creature slinks closer, the chain rattling as quietly as chains allow.

Dijkstra blinks to himself. So it is smart.

“I was never here,” he starts, turning the picks almost blindly, “I got lost on the way to the fucking loo, did three circles around the central room. I didn’t see or hear anything about a prickly arse man kept in a basement. I’m not a party person, and I hate competition.”

He mutters his alibi uselessly to the mute creature, with no sarcastic input or snappy retort. It's surprisingly trusting and patient, for an overgrown urchin that has no reason to trust a man he’s never met, especially given the circumstance.

“Phil is going to laugh at me,” Dijkstra continues under his breath anyway, “I came for intrigue and left because the most interesting thing in this house will probably get me killed to have discovered.”

“Thank you.”

Dijkstra raises his hands in mock surprise. “So it speaks.”

As if to be contrary, the urchin man keeps his silence again. Now absurdly sardonic of him. He should be kissing Dijkstra’s foot.

“If that's all, scram.”

The urchin man stands to its full height, which is considerably tall among most men, though not even close to Dijkstra’s imposing build. Not that it seems to be intimidated.

“I won't forget this,” it says, voice heavy with gravitas.

Dijkstra snorts. “You should.”

* * *

Years down the line, Karma finally catches up to the great Redanian Spymaster.

It was only a matter of time. It caught up to Radovid first. Now the Black Sun flies over the Redanian capital.

As a self-serving man, Dijkstra worked for and against both sides of the war. He held no regrets, certainly not for any kings whose heads might have rolled and paved way for better allies and stronger ties to him. He is aware of how an emperor might find that threatening. He’s not like Vernon fucking Roche, who is the most loyal, most frustratingly oath-keeping man he's met.

An enemy to the empire’s will, Dijkstra is brought before the emperor himself. In chains, of course. Can’t have an audience without fucking theatrics. He would do the same.

As he is herded through Foltest’s halls—bastard rest in peace—he is brought to a small staircase, one he takes slowly for his bone-aching leg.

“His Imperial Majesty Emhyr var Emreis, Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd, Lord of Metinna...”

Dijkstra zones out half through the list. He is the tallest man in the room and still his eyes fix themselves on the ground, weary from being herded around half the damn Continent only to be sentenced to death the proper bureaucratic way. At the marked end of the final title, he bothers to look up and sees an ordinary man emblazoned in black robes, red brocade, and gold chains.

And strangely sharp eyes.

He’s hit with a feeling like he’s seen them before, even though it should be impossible. A faded memory nearly rewritten itself into uneventful obscurity crawls out of the abyss.

The emperor stands. An unusual occurrence, going by the startled attention of the guards.

He looks at the spymaster but doesn’t say anything besides a short, apparently cut off, “you.”

Dijkstra has got to give it to him. The bastard gathers himself to gesture naturally really well. He might have even fallen for it, if he hadn’t already caught the wide look in those familiar eyes.

“You are the infamous Sigismund Dijkstra. Or is it Sigi Reuven now?”

“I like the sound of Reuven better.”

The dead silence tells him he broke protocol by not finishing with the obligatory, ‘your imperial majesty.’ More bureaucratic bullcrap that will get him hanged faster.

But the emperor simply blinks. And rounds the table to stand before him.

Dijkstra carefully keeps still, his back straight as it can be with how his busted knee bothers him. Then the emperor says something in Nilfgaardian, and the guards holding his arms behind his back retreat to the doors. Finally, he can put weight off of his cursed leg.

The room wordlessly clears at the emperor's raised hand.

It’s only in the forced privacy that he is spoken to again, with a very cryptic, “I never forget the favors I owe.”

The memory barrels through his tired brain like a horse-drawn carriage without a rider.

“You don’t owe me shite,” he says with a sniff. That urchin—that fucking urchin man he spared one ounce of pity that night. Became emperor of the godsdamned world.

From rags to riches, he thinks almost hysterically.

Emhyr lifts an eyebrow. “Are you sure you do not want an emperor’s favor?”

Well. When he puts it like that.

"Considering what these fun little trinkets promise," Dijkstra emphasizes with the rattling of chains, "I'm not so sure what I can do with that favor."

Now they're in familiar ground. Deals and offers and counteroffers—and the urchin emperor speaks the language like a fluent native.

Dijkstra keeps his eyes level with Emhyr's as the man circles him round calmly. He doesn't turn his head to follow where he steps. He doesn't need to. It's his ears that must stay alert and attentive to the words chosen for delivery.

“You danced around my agents and my own spymaster like they were children fumbling in the dark." Emhyr pauses to round him again but in the opposite direction. His profile is the very portrait of his imperial likeness painted and sold across the Continent. The artist of those really captured his stare. Respectful and arrogant at the same time. "You made a powerful enemy, Mister Reuven, and you've made yourself quite the competitor in the Redanian scene. But perhaps we can talk and see where our disagreements lie.”

“Disagreements? Light way to put it.” He scoffs, but there is no denying how bloody curious he is to test how far a favor from the emperor will reach. “Sure, I'll be amenable to a talk.”

* * *

When he tells Roche, the fucking vassal lord of Temeria just standing around the corner of the throne room, he laughs at the answering disgruntled, constipated face.

“You saved the emperor when he was a cursed urchin, and now you’re the collared prick at his beck and call?”

“Says the whoreson who gave him Temeria wrapped in a pretty bow.” Dijkstra sighs. Roche sighs too, but his is more soulful. “Ah, fuck it. We both gave him the rest of the world on a silver platter.”

“You don’t sound that angry about that.”

There is a creeping truth to those words. A spy adapts, and he is adapting to the current lay of the land and its rules.

Dijkstra taps his newly acquired cane on the polished floor, remembering a shady party and the cellar with an urchin man with too-sharp eyes. What would have happened, had he not freed the beast? Would the world be under a different iron fist, a crueler fist? Would it have all burned down already, with neither him nor Roche alive to bicker about it? Would it have been peaceful, with no room for spywork like his?

“Maybe I wanna see this through.”

He always did love the challenge of an abstruse, unreadable mind to win over. Kings were one thing, but an emperor?

His thoughts must be written plain as day on his face, as Roche looks at him like he's struggling between throttling him, or diving neck first into a clear bottle of Nilfgaardian Lemon.

#dijkstra x emhyr #pre relationship #rarepair summer bingo #tt #myfics

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bcdrawsandwrites · 3 years

Text

For Unity by @jaywings and me

Rating: T Genre: Friendship, Angst Characters: urGoh, skekGra, skekSil, skekSo, skekTek, skekVar, urVa, urSu, urSol, urZah, possibly others… Warnings: A LOT OF VIOLENCE. Description: One was as vile and repulsive as his brethren. He murdered, and maimed, and reveled in it. The other was as slow and indirect as the rest of his brethren. He hated his dark half as much as the others did theirs. But who they were did not matter, for Thra saw its moment, and seized its opportunity. Beta Reader: ThePrairieNerd

—~~~—

Chapter 8: One, That Became Two, That Became One Again Summary: In which the Wanderer takes the first steps.

—~~~—

His hand was empty.

As he made his way through the Dark Forest, guided only by the light of the Sisters, urGoh found himself rubbing his thumb over his calloused palm repeatedly; the shard he'd carried for only a few days had felt almost like a companion to him. And yet it had shattered beneath his fingers, leaving nothing but sparkling dust in his hand—gone in a mere moment.

And what a strange moment it was.

The shared memory threatened to return, but urGoh pushed it aside. Dwelling on it would do nothing but fill him with an unhelpful, unreachable ache of longing. Instead he focused on the absence of the crystal shard, reflecting on just why it had taken that exact moment to shatter. Had the connection he'd felt extended to the shard, and corrupted it, causing it to break? Or... had the shard served its purpose?

The more urGoh thought of it, the more it seemed to be the latter, and the more unsettled he felt.

It wanted them to unify. Not just the tiny shard—the Crystal. All of Thra. A Mystic uniting with a Skeksis... who ever thought of such a thing?

The idea of working alongside the Conqueror was not something that brought urGoh any comfort, no matter how Thra urged them to. He would, he would certainly try, but he did sometimes question the wisdom of this world. After all, could a creature who had killed so many others truly decide to stop within a matter of days? Could such a monster actually change his ways, and so quickly?

"You better... have a good idea... of what... you're making us... do," he grunted to a passing tree, which merely shuffled its roots in response. "This meeting could end... very badly."

The idea of a Skeksis conversing with a Mystic was absurd to begin with, but to willingly bring the most vile of their kind so close to the Valley to meet again? What a terrible idea! Why had he agreed to this?

But at the same time... he couldn’t shake this feeling—that moment, when they both recalled the same campfire, with the same Gelfling telling the same story, because they...

The sudden ache in his chest made him stumble, and he shook his head, keeping his gaze trained forward. No—he couldn't keep rethinking this. His path had been decided, and there was no turning back now.

As urGoh walked, the first rising sun cast strange, flickering shadows in the trees, winking in and out of view and slipping through the leaves as though they were following him. One shadow broke away from the rest, twining serpentlike partway down the trunk of a tree before a shape landed in front of him with a thump. UrGoh backed up a step, squinting hard.

The first Brother was at his eye-line, and he could not see the figure that confronted him, save for a looming, spiked silhouette. For a heart-stopping moment he thought it was skekGra, having changed his mind and abandoned all sense, returning to attack him again.

“A plod-stomping urRu,” the figure rasped in a low voice. “In the Dark Wood.”

It had to be a Skeksis, but urGoh didn’t immediately recognize it. Sunlight glinted off the edge of a wicked dagger it gripped in its claw.

UrGoh raised a hand to block the light and attempted to duck to one side in order to clear his vision, but the creature simply moved with him with a fluidity that he did not expect.

“This looks like valuable pickings,” it went on. “A Mystic’s floundering tongue would be the trophy of trophies. And the head of a Skeksis would come freely with no miserable squabbling.”

“You are… bluffing,” urGoh said. No Skeksis would purposely bring harm to another Skeksis, surely? Especially by attacking their Mystic counterpart. They seemed to prefer open confrontation.

A beaked, reptilian head was suddenly thrust in his face, eyes narrowed under a mask made from the skull of some unfortunate creature.

“Am I?” the Skeksis spat.

UrGoh shuffled backwards, his tail dragging through the leaves, still trying to get a good look at his aggressor. The mask had revealed the exact identity of this Skeksis, though it was someone he’d never met—nor, truthfully, had wanted to meet.

“How did you… know I was here?” he asked, hesitantly. Had this creature caught sight of skekGra?

The Hunter hissed through jagged fangs. “I followed your lumbering footsteps for miles. The blundering Mystic disturbed the rakkida pack I was tracking.”

“Oh. I am… sorry,” urGoh said uncertainly. He didn’t have much love for rakkida, vicious as they could be, though the thought of more deaths attributed to the Skeksis gave his stomach a sickening lurch. “Perhaps if you go after them now… you will find them again.”

“But they’re no longer a worthy prize,” the Hunter sneered. “They were scared off by a Mystic.”

He lunged suddenly, faster than urGoh could have prepared for, but withdrew with a snarl almost within the same second. A large arrow had sprouted from the ground at his feet.

“Leave this place, skekMal,” the deep, resonant voice of the Archer rang out, as the Mystic stepped into view. He had strung his towering bow, another arrow nocked loosely in the string but not yet pulled taut. “The forest is not yours to command, much as you think it is.”

The Skeksis clicked his teeth. “All who trespass into the Endless Forest beyond their piddly settlements invite death from the shadows.”

“I see no shadows,” urVa growled. “You stand in the light of day.”

UrGoh could see a shadow, however: the one standing before them, cloaked in death.

As they were speaking, the sun had risen higher, now leaving the Hunter in plain view. He stood up straighter, rattling the morbid trophies that hung from his belt—skulls and pieces taken from previous victims that urGoh did not immediately recognize, and he tried to look away, for fear he eventually would.

"I am a Lord of the Crystal, and master of these woods, in light or in darkness," skekMal snarled. "I can hunt what I wish, whenever I wish, hidden or not!"

"I see." UrVa returned his arrow and unstrung his bow. Then, his eyes always upon the Hunter, he marched forward until he had situated himself between skekMal and urGoh. He lifted his head, a challenging gaze piercing his other half's eyes. "Hunt me, then."

For a long moment, the three of them stood silently, skekMal and urVa both eerily still, each a corrupted reflection of the other. Only urGoh moved, glancing back and forth between the two, wondering which of them was truly mad enough to make the first move.

SkekMal suddenly lunged his head forward, letting out a vicious howl, and charged. While urGoh cringed back, urVa stood his ground, and the Skeksis bolted in a wide arc around them, rushing into the depths of the Dark Forest. UrGoh kept an eye on him until his form melted into the trees, while urVa regarded the situation with an almost detached calmness. Finally the Archer turned away, his long bow thudding against the soft ground as he moved on without comment.

"Um... thank you," urGoh said, blinking and trailing after urVa. "I wasn't sure... what would happen there."

"SkekMal is a dangerous creature," urVa said plainly. "His actions can be unpredictable, even among the Skeksis… But even he would not be fool enough to attack..."

UrGoh waited for him to finish; when he did not, he merely followed, keeping an eye on the path ahead.

"You have been wounded," the Archer said suddenly, and urGoh gingerly touched the scratches on his snout.

"My... other half," he mumbled, and urVa gave a quiet hum. They walked in silence for a few minutes longer. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but nor was it much of a companionable one, and it inescapably put him in mind of their previous journey toward the Valley together. It felt like countless trine ago. Had it really been only a few days?

"For what reason do you take the path through this forest, urGoh?" urVa asked.

"Hm. Other than... my being... a Wanderer?" UrGoh slowly turned his head, giving his companion a wry smile. But urVa did not spare him another glance; he didn't seem to be in such good humor this morning, and urGoh sighed. "I am... returning... to the Valley."

UrVa stopped, lifting his head as he faced urGoh at last. "Again? Your wandering path rarely leads you home. What brings you back this time?"

Glancing back the way skekMal had fled, urGoh frowned. "I have... something important... to discuss with urSu."

"A better conversation would be had with the mountainside."

UrGoh cast his gaze downward. "Perhaps. But... even a mountain may eventually give in... if it is worn down enough, or if something large... should impact it."

"Hmm." The Archer closed his eyes. "I see you are still concerned with the plight of the Gruenaks. If the Master has already given his verdict on the subject, I fear nothing but the voice of Thra itself may change his mind, my friend.”

“The Gruenak devastation… has… passed.” UrGoh could not keep the bitterness from his voice. “I return with… a different matter.”

Briefly urGoh considered telling everything, and glanced down at the forest floor to contemplate his words. But the light cast by the first brother upon urVa created a looming, dark shadow behind him, and he shuddered. No. He could not speak here.

"I see." For the first time that morning, a smile crossed urVa's muzzle. "I am keen to see what you believe can move a mountain."

"As... am I." UrGoh blinked. The Archer’s wording had struck him. “You wish… to join me?”

“I will. Perhaps it is now time I returned to the others, as well,” urVa said. “But please… no poetry.”

“No,” urGoh said mournfully. “I… lost it all… in an unintended swim.”

“Ah. That is certainly a shame.”

The two resumed their journey, urGoh confident in knowing that it would not split at the Valley entrance this time. He felt that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders—but was almost immediately replaced by another one as the enormity of his task set in. The thought of trusting any Skeksis was still a rather foreign concept to him. How in Thra’s name might his brethren be convinced?

—~~~—

He looked like an idiot.

He certainly felt like an idiot, especially among the other Skeksis who probably hadn't set foot outside the Castle in who knows how many trine. SkekGra was uncomfortably aware of the mud on his claws, ashes on his armor, the cuts on his face, and the myriad of twigs and leaves clinging to his robes. He could feel the burn of their stares. Would there be a time when he wouldn't traipse back to the castle drenched in all manner of filth?

SkekGra had hoped to return unnoticed, but he should have known otherwise. It was getting too late in the day, and the castle was far too busy. He managed to climb back up through the catacombs unnoticed, but was spotted by guards as soon as he reached the first of the more populated floors of the castle. Now he could only trudge through the cold stone halls like a Podling before the Deturge and hope he wouldn't be questioned.

And also, once again, to make the choice between food or sleep. His cramping stomach suggested which one should take priority. Hastily, he brushed off the worst of the grime and headed for the Banquet Hall.

"So... the murdering scourge of Thra... is afraid of me..."

The deep, slow voice, the chirping of desert insects, and the crackling of a fire echoed in his head.

"The Crystal is fractured... It felt like pain, emptiness, incompleteness... Have you not thought... that it needed to be healed?"

An image of the great Crystal, once a pure, shining white, now bled a deep violet. The memory of the Crystal of Truth dragged down to the Scientist's lab in heavy metal claws, pulsing against the cruel restraints.

"It never occurred to me..."

Someone prodded at his side, hard, and he picked up an urgent, whispered, "Lord Skeksis-ah!"

SkekGra jerked upright, blinking in alarm, his warrior's instinct fighting to take in every aspect of his surroundings. He was seated at his place at the banquet table. Several Skeksis around him were croaking with laughter. There was an upturned bowl of soup in front of him. And his face was dripping.

A Podling face looked up at him anxiously—the one who had poked him awake, no doubt. SkekGra waved him away, heart shriveling slightly in embarrassment as he mopped up his face with a dry part of the tablecloth. Irritably he noticed the others were still cackling. What were they laughing about? He could do an entire series of paintings about the stupid things each and every one of them had done. And whom at this table hadn't ever buried their face in a bowl of soup?

Too bad his own stupidity seemed to be coming more frequently as of late.

After shaking off the mortification, shoving some amount of food in his mouth, and regaining some strength in his limbs, it was of course time to attend the Ceremony of the Sun once again. He stood at his place in the circle, his gaze unwavering, letting strength flow into him that he knew was never theirs to take, and spoke to no one. He did not catch skekTek's eye, ignored any jeers presented by the others, their own insults forgotten as soon as they garnered no response.

"Lord Conqueror!"

A voice called out to him in the corridor as he made his way to his chambers, and he finally stopped, looking down to see a Vapran Gelfling rush up to him. He gave a start as he recognized this one.

"Conall," he greeted, the name slipping out before he even realized that he knew what it was. Strange... he'd never cared much about learning their names.

The Gelfling dipped forward in a bow as he reached him. "My lord, I've just returned from the battalion of Gelfling sent back to the Caves of Grot to rout out the Gruenak stragglers. They told me that no one had reported to you about it, so I immediately sought you out. We..." He swallowed nervously, as though unsure how skekGra would take his next words. "We- we didn't find anything, my lord. And the Grottans swore that they had offered no further protection to the traitors."

Again, the voice returned to his mind: "You spared two. Two of the hundreds... that fell by your swords."

He swiped his tongue over his jaws, and gave his response in almost a trance. “Let them escape…” he muttered.

Maybe they did escape, he thought. Maybe they left those foul caves and found a place to settle, far from conflict.

The Vapran, meanwhile, quailed away from him, face paling and ears flicking back. "N-no, my lord, we did not intend to, but we had orders from Emperor skekSo to return. I'm so sorry, my lord. We won't give up. Every time we're sent out again, we'll keep a watch for them. We'll track them down eventually, and make them pay for eluding the army of the Castle of the Crystal!"

SkekGra's stomach wrenched. "Yes. See that you do."

“And I… I wanted to warn you, my lord…” the Gelfling wrung his hands. “The guards have been saying strange things. Things… about you.”

SkekGra gave a sniff. “I think I can handle a few Gelfling rumors. Now, attend to your duties, Vapran.”

He took his leave from the young guard and, in a haze, found his quarters and loomed in the doorway like a dark shadow.

Oh, Thra, it was a disaster in here. Someone would have to take care of this.

He crossed into the room, placed his weapons carefully beside his wardrobe, and promptly turned to collapse face-first onto his bed.

"You feel... guilty, Conqueror."

Another sickening lurch to his insides.

Vaguely he grasped at the tattered wish for a sleep with no dreams, no visions, no haunted words, no drowning Mystic idiots or cries from the Crystal to rip him from unconsciousness. He wasn't built for this nonsense.

Oh. And I promised another meeting with the Wanderer in some Thra-forsaken corner just outside the Dark Wood.

Eyes tightly closed, his tongue snapped a sharp curse and one fist beat against his bedcovers. When had this become his life?

—~~~—

It was the phrase that skekGra fell asleep to, and blearily woke several hours later with it still running through his mind. He pushed himself to his feet, and finally exchanged his sodden robes for clean ones—the others had been through a lot, he noted, as he laid the forlorn-looking clothes out flat on the bed—and sheathed his weapons back in their proper places before strolling from the room.

Not wanting to have to navigate another conversation or lecture from anyone this time, he took back ways around the Castle, slipping unseen into the Scrollkeeper's library to swipe a map, and then retreating down through the catacombs to undergo another unpleasant crawl out through the Teeth of Skreesh.

An unexpected scent hit his nostrils before he reached the way out, however, and he tensed. Gelfling? He could have sworn he caught a hint of stale Gelfling scent. But that was impossible—Gelfling had always been forbidden from coming down here. Anyone who broke that rule would be thrown from the Castle, along with any members of their family, and with such a black mark on their record would likely never be able to find civilized work again.

He shoved the matter aside and continued on his way.

It would be nice, he thought, to not have to leave the castle like this again. But at least it was secretive, as no one considered that anyone in their right mind would use this path.

"It's been a long time since I've been in my right mind," he muttered, swatting a dangling branch out of his face. Consulting the map he'd borrowed, he pinpointed the unlikely spot for the Wanderer's planned meeting with whatever Mystic he could drag out of its hole, and started off on a path southeast from the Castle.

Was he ready to meet another Mystic?

His teeth clicked. The tips of his fingers twitched. There was a prickling at his back as his spines rose.

He didn't fear the Mystics. What was to fear? The Wanderer himself had stated that anger was not natural to them. And aside the Hunter's strange counterpart, he doubted that they even had a concept of weaponry.

It was the wrongness of it all that unsettled him so. The knowledge that he would have to look into some creature's beady eyes and see the distorted, meandering reflection of someone he knew. Which one would it be?

And why did he dread this decision more with every step?

—-~~~—-

The third Brother barely broke over the horizon as urGoh and urVa neared the Valley. The Archer paused as they drew closer, and for a moment urGoh feared he would turn away again.

However, urGoh quickly spotted the reason for it, and could only stare as urSol the Chanter approached them along the trail, stopping in front of them.

“...Chanter,” urGoh said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “You have… left the Valley.”

UrSol inclined his head, a slight smile on his face. “I have taken four steps beyond the border. Hardly a long trip when compared to the Wanderer.” He looked up, his eyes shadowed. “Did you find what you were looking for, urGoh?”

UrGoh paused, his neck dipping slightly as though weighed down.

“...No,” he said after a moment. The Chanter blinked in sympathy, and urGoh went on. “But I did find… something else.”

UrSol's gaze turned to urVa, regarding him with a tipped head. "You found... the Archer."

"...Yes," urGoh said. "But that is... not all. I must speak... with urSu."

At that, the Chanter heaved a sigh. "I may speak in many voices... but none of them can reach Master urSu." Yet he smiled at urGoh, and continued, "But that does not mean the Wanderer will not succeed." With that, he resumed his original course, passing the other two Mystics and heading up and away from the Valley.

Though urGoh knew he could not delay long, curiosity overcame him and he turned to face the Chanter. "Where do you... go?"

"To seek new songs outside the Valley," the other said without turning around. "And new company. But I will not be gone long. Perhaps a few trine."

"Avoid the forest," urVa said, eyeing urSol seriously. "No song is worth an encounter with the monster that lurks there."

UrSol paused. "I fear not the shadows," he said, and did not stop again.

With the departure of the third Mystic, the two made their way further into the Valley, watching as the slow life of their fellows went on as usual. UrZah the Ritual Guardian did not look up from his sand painting, though the Weaver waved in greeting as urGoh and urVa passed by. While urGoh was glad to see the other urRu again, his mind dwelled on other matters. "Where... do you suppose..." he began, but trailed off when he saw the Archer had stopped. UrVa's gaze was turned upward, and urGoh followed it, blinking in surprise.

UrSu stood on the ledge above them, regarding him with an expression urGoh could not read.

"Wanderer," he said. "You rarely return home without purpose." He did not question urVa's presence, and urGoh's mane prickled.

"I have come... to show you something," urGoh said. "Something... of great importance..."

"And what have you brought to our Valley?" urSu asked.

"I did not bring—" urGoh nearly said “him,” but caught himself just in time, "—the… important thing... with me. You must come with me... beyond the Valley."

The Archer snapped his head toward urGoh alarmingly fast, eyes wide. Every other urRu within listening distance did the same, their heads raised and snouts pointed almost accusingly at urGoh. UrVa opened his mouth to speak, but urSu was faster.

"It is one thing for other urRu to leave the Valley," he said. UrSu's gaze had an uncharacteristic hardness to it. "I have permitted some to leave... against all counseling, whether from clouded judgment and dissatisfaction, seeking perpetual solitude, or a futile wanderlust… the Storyteller, the Swimmer, and the Monk, passed beyond our sight... the Archer, living alone, the Peacemaker… the Chanter, ever guided by his ill-formed emotions, storming off after another argument… And to say nothing of you, Wanderer, as it’s in your very name.” His gaze never left urGoh. "But to ask for me to pass beyond the Valley’s borders…”

"He would be killed," urVa said plainly. "A Skeksis would surely seek him and swiftly kill him. To take his power."

UrGoh looked him in the eye. "But you... have faced your own dark half, and driven him away."

The Archer regarded him for a moment before humming and turning aside.

"Master urSu," urGoh went on, facing his leader again. "This is of... vital importance. Thra itself... demands it."

UrSu heaved a long sigh through his nostrils. "Thra has not spoken to me of such things."

"Thra... has spoken... to me."

The Valley went still. Without looking, urGoh knew the others were staring at him, and he knew how absurd his claim sounded. But he continued to stare into urSu's eyes, his own gaze serious, pleading. If urSu would not at least see what he was going to propose, there was no hope of his ever listening.

The Master returned his gaze for an agonizingly long moment, and urGoh held his breath. But slowly, slowly urSu turned away, his heavy steps plodding across the wooden walkway. Heart suddenly heavy, urGoh lowered his head, shutting his eyes against the sheer frustration and sadness welling up within him.

A better conversation would be had with the mountainside, indeed.

"Show me, then."

Straightening, urGoh spun around as quickly as he could, almost falling over himself, to find urSu watching him again and leaning heavily on his staff.

"Show me what Thra has shown you, that it has kept secret from me."

UrGoh blinked stupidly, his mouth falling open and throat producing no sound.

"Then I want to see as well," urVa said somberly, shifting the walking stick that doubled as his bow. "Lead the way, Wanderer."

The knot in his chest loosened itself a little, the burden easing, and urGoh nodded. "Yes... right... away."

—~~~—

What was he doing?

Every step brought deep dread seeping back into his bones, displacing the relief he’d felt, his jaw set with his teeth clenched together.

Not one of them spoke. The calm camaraderie that urGoh had felt with urVa on the trek back to the Valley had vanished, replaced by a cold fragility, three slow-moving figures set on a single destination, all lost in their own reveries and none too happy to be going.

This was a mistake. The thought wound itself through urGoh’s head and felt heavy on his tongue, as though desperate to be spoken aloud to send the others home. He glanced behind him to see urVa’s face set in grim determination, his eyes slowly roving from side to side as though to watch for threats. UrSu by contrast had his gaze set straight ahead, watching neither urVa, urGoh, or their surroundings for that matter.

This was a mistake. I am leading both of them into a Skeksis trap.

UrGoh slowly shook his head, tossing out his mane. A trap? No. SkekGra could not restrain and capture three Mystics at once, particularly when one of them was the Archer. And he certainly couldn’t kill them without harming himself, along with a highly revered and feared Skeksis in the Hunter, and his own Emperor.

Unless the death of Emperor skekSo was the point.

UrGoh glanced again at urSu, with urVa following in his wake. This was why the Archer had come along—to grant the Master all the protection he could offer. But skekGra did not even know that urGoh had planned to bring urSu to the meeting place. UrGoh hadn’t told him.

“And he’s… changed,” urGoh said aloud, as though speaking the words might make him believe them.

“What did you say?” the Archer said evenly. UrSu said nothing.

“I said… so much... has changed,” urGoh said, his fingers curling.

UrSu spoke up then, still gazing ahead. “Eternity does not change. The stars, the planets, they sweep across the sky in an endless rhythm. We are nothing to the great expanse of the universe, the creatures who dwell here even less so. Our lives are a whisper that makes no impact, until we are called to act by a mediator of the cosmos.” He tilted his head to look straight at urGoh. “So what is it, Wanderer, that you wanted to show us?”

The Master’s response had drawn the small party to a stop—uncannily close, urGoh realized, to the meeting spot he had set up with skekGra. UrGoh drew in a deep breath and slowly, slowly, turned to face the others.

“We are here,” he said simply.

“And there is something… waiting for us?” UrVa’s face had darkened, though his expression was not altogether readable.

UrGoh hesitated. “I am… not sure yet. I… will go check.”

He turned quickly to avoid the looks in their eyes and pushed through the bracken and curtain of leaves up ahead, coming to a stop when he reached a clearing and a strong, sour scent hit his nostrils.

The forest here was silent, as though nothing wanted to reveal its presence.

There was no doubt. SkekGra was here.

As he had this thought, a nearby branch shifted and suddenly the Conqueror was there, slipping out into the daylight, eyes bright and accusing. He tilted his head up, taking a sniff of the air. With a jolt urGoh remembered how much better senses of smell Skeksis had than most other creatures he knew—certainly better than Mystics.

“I thought you were bringing maybe one Mystic,” skekGra growled. “What kind of trickery is this? Was this a trap?”

UrGoh stretched his neck higher, looking the Skeksis straight in the eyes. “Those I have brought… fear a trap from you.”

The Conqueror went rigid, his eyes aflame with fury and horror. “How many others did you tell about me?!”

“None… yet.” He held unwavering eye contact. “I have told them… nothing. But we discussed... that we should share our revelations... with the Mystics. So I… have brought them.”

“What, all of them?” SkekGra shook his head hard. “We didn’t discuss anything! This was your idea, which you simply flung at me while I was in a hurry—”

UrGoh interrupted. “It is… time.”

Before he could change his mind, he turned and let out a low note from deep in his throat, the sound reverberating through the trees and causing the leaves to tremble. SkekGra cried out and flung his hands over his ears, baring his jagged fangs.

Before urGoh’s call had faded, urSu and urVa strode through the trees and stood behind him, the disheveled Skeksis in full view.

Neither Mystic betrayed any hint of surprise, though the worn, spiralling creases in their faces had hardened. SkekGra, however, looked alarmed; in a flash of sunlight he had drawn three blades—a short sword along with two daggers clutched in his secondary arms—and dropped into a defensive stance.

At some point, out of urGoh’s sight, urVa had nocked an arrow, though he did not yet draw it.

No one spoke. No breeze blew, the atmosphere heavy and taut as if the air itself were the Archer’s bow. UrGoh felt as if the slightest movement would snap the fragile strings holding them all at bay and the clearing would erupt into chaos.

He made the tiniest gesture toward skekGra, his eyes on the two Mystics.

“Here… is what I wanted you to... see,” he said, his tongue lame in his mouth. He half-expected the Archer to run him through with an arrow where he stood, perhaps not even bothering to loose it first.

"...A Skeksis," urSu said, and urVa tightened his grip on his bow.

"Yes," urGoh replied, twitching his tail in a vain attempt to rid himself of the excess tension in the air. "This is the skekGra, the Conqueror... my other half."

"This was a terrible place to meet it," urVa said, his voice a strained growl.

"Why?" skekGra asked suspiciously, and if it were possible, the tension only increased in the small clearing. Something was going to snap. "If you're worried about the Hunter, I don't think he comes out this far."

"He... hmmm." Slowly urVa lowered his bow, but only by a fraction. He doesn't, was probably what he had been planning to say, but he'd evidently thought the better of it, not wanting the Skeksis to know what he was actually worried about.

"Can you stop pointing that thing at me?" skekGra demanded, glancing from urVa to urGoh. "You’ll end up hurting him too, you know."

"Your weapons are still drawn," urVa retorted.

At that, skekGra pulled back slightly. "Listen, I don't know which ones you are, but..." He ground his teeth furiously. "...But my Emperor would have my head if the others found out I attacked you. I'd be attacking one of my own."

UrVa did loosen the pull on his arrow upon hearing that, lowering the weapon in surprise, but urSu's gaze hardened. "I do not believe it. No Skeksis has honor."

"This again," skekGra growled, but slowly sheathed his weapons. One talon, however, rested on the hilt of his sword.

"What does it mean, again?" urVa questioned, this time turning to urGoh.

"SkekGra and I met yesterday," he admitted. "It was then... we decided... to speak with you."

The Conqueror clicked his beak sharply. "Oh, yes, this was truly something we agreed upon, with full understanding of each other."

Slowly urSu turned his gaze upon urGoh. "Is this... what Thra spoke to you of?"

"Thra... spoke to us." UrGoh took a small step, merely shuffling his feet, realizing moments later that he had moved slightly closer to skekGra. "Both of us. We... were given... visions."

There was silence for a moment.

“Thra does not give us visions,” urVa said. “We are not truly a part of this world.”

"Any vision received by a Skeksis is sure to be one of corruption," urSu said, finally looking skekGra in the eye. Apparently the Conqueror could see a certain something in the Master's eyes, for he took a step back.

"I... I did see corruption in my vision," skekGra admitted after a moment. "Thra itself falling apart at the seams. Death everywhere. Even the Skeksis..." He swallowed. "We rotted where we stood." His gaze grew distant for a moment, before hardening, as he looked at urSu accusingly. "I'm sure the same was happening to you lot as well."

"It was... a warning," urGoh said quickly, before a fight could break out. "Thra showed me... that the Crystal... needed healing."

For a moment urVa and urSu were silent, the two turning their gazes upon each other. UrSu's face was unreadable, but urVa raised an eyebrow in interest. "Yes," he agreed. "The Crystal... does need to be healed."

"But not by one of our own," urSu said. "That is not our destiny."

"So what do you propose we do?" skekGra snapped. "Sit around and hope someone patches a bandage on it?!"

UrSu glared at him. “Nor is it a task that the Skeksis will accomplish. We must wait for the Crystal... to call."

"That is not... what Thra... told us," urGoh said. "It said... we must strive... for unity. All of Thra. The Gelfling—"

"The Gelfling have Aughra to aid them," the Master interjected.

"Aughra yet slumbers." UrVa said. His head lowered, but only for a moment.

"It is not our call."

"Oh, listen to yourselves!" skekGra snapped, teeth bared in a hiss. "Do you Mystics ever do anything other than mumble, walk in circles, and chant nonsense? When are you going to do something about all this?”

"A Skeksis would lecture us on taking action?" UrVa’s gaze was piercing.

The Conqueror’s eyes flared. “If even one of you bitter, long-necked sloths would stand up and act, you could march up to the Castle of the Crystal itself, and—!” He faltered.

UrGoh stared at his dark half. What?

He shook his head—it wasn’t important now. "What the Conqueror means,” he said, “is that... we are taking steps... to solve... the problem."

"The only steps we must take are the ones that will lead us when the Crystal calls us," urSu said simply.

"Thra... has told us otherwise." Looking between the Master and the Archer, urGoh curled his tail around his legs, mentally preparing himself for what he would say next. "Thra... wants us to unify... not just the rest of Thra... but the Skeksis... and the Mystics... together."

UrVa lifted his head, his eyes wide, while urSu's expression did not change. More alarmingly, he raised not only his head, but his entire body, his four hands braced against his staff. At his full height he towered over skekGra, and the Conqueror's feet dug into the dirt as though he wanted to be swallowed by it.

"It... is not... our... time."

The words hung heavily in the air, the solid weight of them bearing down on the shoulders of everyone in the clearing. UrGoh felt they would crush him, and nearly sank to the ground.

"Do you believe it, Wanderer?" urVa said, finally breaking the deafening silence. "That we should unite with our dark halves?"

"...Yes," urGoh replied, and froze at the look urVa gave him in return. Only then did he remember the encounter with the Hunter, a Skeksis who showed none of skekGra's fear of harming his own kind. "Um... Thra... told me..."

"Was it indeed Thra?" urSu stared down at him; he had not lowered himself in the slightest. "Or was it a product of your endless wanderings?"

"It's true!" skekGra blurted. "I saw it too. Thra won't leave us alone about it!" He gestured toward urGoh. “Show them the thing you had last night, that little glittery crystal shard! That looked important.”

“I… can’t,” urGoh said dolefully, glancing down out of habit at his empty hands. “It… shattered.”

“Oh. That’s helpful.”

UrSu stared at skekGra again, unmoved, and the Skeksis visibly balked. "I do not believe a Skeksis would be granted such a vision. Thra... has not said such to me."

"I wonder why," the Conqueror snapped, regaining his composure at once.

UrSu slowly dropped back into his normal posture. He looked wearier than urGoh had ever seen him. "A Skeksis is not to be trusted," he said finally, and turned to urGoh. "You must never again speak with your other half."

"What?" urGoh said, stunned.

"UrSu is right." UrVa took a step forward. "Was it not you yourself who spoke of the evils this creature has done? The blood he has shed?"

Even without looking, urGoh could feel skekGra's gaze upon him. His toes dug into the grass, his tail curling tightly. Once again, he saw the two Gruenaks huddled in a corner deep in the Caves of Grot, still mourning their lost family member. Even more, he could still see the shoreline of the Silver Sea, drenched in red with more than the light from the setting suns. "I... did... speak of such things."

"Our shadows... have reveled in bloodshed." There was nothing accusatory to urVa's voice; it was steeped in sorrow. "We should not wish to join with that."

UrGoh shook his head. “We… would not—”

"Nghhh—you’re missing the point!" skekGra cried. "You think I'm glad about the things I've done? Will none of you cretins believe me? Thra is... it's... look, I don't want that future it showed me, either! All right?"

UrSu and urVa's stares were upon him again, boring into him for a long while, until even urGoh felt uncomfortable. It was urSu who broke the silence: "Even now... you prove that the Skeksis act only in self-interest, and can do nothing good."

Something bolted up from the tip of urGoh's tail and all the way up his spine, and his chest burned. "At least... he does... something!" he snapped, glaring at the Master. When urSu stared back at him, he was tempted to back away, but held his ground. "We have done... nothing... to help Thra... for hundreds of trine. What does it matter... if something is done... in self-interest... if it is done at all?" His tail lashed, and he did not wait for a reply. "SkekGra... has decided... to join the cause... of Thra itself. That, I believe, is good. What... have you done... Master?"

Silence hung in the clearing. It was broken not by speech, but by a strange, soft crooning sound that emanated, to urGoh's shock, from the Conqueror's throat.

The Skeksis stepped forward, leveling himself with urGoh once again.

"There is one more thing we could try," he said lowly, and urGoh wasn't sure if it was meant for everyone to hear or for him alone. SkekGra looked down at him, the corners of his beak folded in a grim line.

And he held out a gloved hand.

"...Ah..." urGoh couldn't keep the single word from escaping with his breath. Icy claws like his dark half's talons pierced his heart, driving deeply into it. His eyes locked on the offered hand, and all it implied, and he couldn't move. The other two Mystics were like statues as they watched the proceedings.

"UrGoh?" skekGra prompted, and urGoh wondered if this was the first time the Skeksis had used his name. "UrGoh—take it, will you? This doesn't look good."

He felt as though he were drifting away on the tide, at the mercy of the waves. To take that hand was to offer alliance—friendship—to this creature that had slaughtered hundreds, thousands, and relished their suffering. To sever himself entirely from his own kind and tie himself even further to this shattered perversion of a being that differed from himself in every way. All in a bid to save this world from darkness.

He reached out and took skekGra's hand.

A great surge of feeling erupted through him, a warmth, a light as brilliant and blazing as the Crystal of Truth had once been. UrGoh took an astonished breath. This feeling… he hadn’t felt like this since—

In an instant he was jarred from the vision as skekGra pulled his hand away and the world returned to normal. Dazed, urGoh forced his focus back onto urSu and urVa. What had they seen?

“There!” the Skeksis said beside him. "You want unity? There's some unity!"

UrSu blinked at them slowly. “I did not see unity,” he said. “I saw hesitation—a lack of conviction. And a desire for selfish victory rather than benevolence.”

UrGoh bristled; next to him, skekGra cried, “WHAT?”

He went on, “I held a Mystic’s grubby hand and this is your reaction?! You only see what you want to see!”

UrGoh shifted uncomfortably. “We’re… working on it,” he said.

The Master shook his head, slowly, as though sorrowful. Finally, he turned away. "You... neither of you… will ever understand."

He started to leave, but glanced back only once. “If you decide to come back, urGoh, you may not be welcomed… unless you can convince me you have changed your mind.”

With that, the Master stamped his staff into the ground, and headed back toward the Valley without another word.

Frustration welled up through every fiber of urGoh's body. All four of his hands clenched into fists. He turned to urVa, ready to speak again, but his voice died when he saw the Archer's expression.

"...You believe I should join with the Hunter?"

There was a faint, desperate hope to urVa's voice. Hope that urGoh would prove him wrong.

For a moment, urGoh wanted to say no, that he would never ask his friend to even attempt such a thing. But he knew—he knew he could not waver.

"Yes."

UrVa stared at him, and silently turned away as well, his bow striking the ground sharply beneath him.

Once again, the clearing was silent, and urGoh could only stare hollowly at the spot where his companions had disappeared through the woods. Something was again bubbling up within him, but it was neither anger nor frustration. It filled his stomach and chest and throat until it finally burst through his mouth in a booming, echoing call.

Birds and fliers scattered from their roosts, and the tension was finally gone.

"Well," skekGra said, startling urGoh—he'd almost forgotten the Skeksis was still there. "So much for that."

Gritting his teeth, urGoh sighed through his nose before swinging his head toward skekGra. He felt exhausted—more than he had been in a long, long while. To his surprise, skekGra did not look the same, but was instead watching urGoh with an expression he found hard to read.

"...Did you feel it too?" he finally asked.

It took urGoh a moment to remember. “Yeah,” he admitted. “For… a moment.”

SkekGra nodded slowly, then hesitated. "And... did you really mean what you said? You think I'm... I'm better than the Mystics?"

UrGoh tipped his head, embarrassed and a little ashamed. "You... act more than any of us... certainly." Oddly, he found strength in his own words. "I believe... you can be good. What is the point... of unity... if you cannot?"

SkekGra gave what might have been a laugh, but without any humor. “Good? What is your definition of ‘good’?” He fiddled with the hilt of his sword. "I dunno. I'm... still figuring this out." His tail flicked. "...Now what?"

"That..." urGoh began, and paused. "...I do not... know." He tilted his head one way, then another. "We could... talk to... the Skeksis?"

Staggering back, skekGra grabbed his bony chest with his talons. "Do you have a death wish after all?!"

UrGoh frowned, a tendril of irritation curling in his own chest. “No.”

“You must, or that wouldn’t have even crossed your mind!” SkekGra’s beak snapped. “Those lumbering Mystic friends of yours were merely disappointed. Set foot in the Castle of the Crystal and they’d tear us both apart!” He paused dramatically. “Tear us apart separately, so we’d feel each other’s pain as well as our own!”

Raising a brow, urGoh said skeptically, “They would not… do such to one of their own.”

The Skeksis’ nostrils flared. “Oh? So sure, are you? And what of skekNa’s counterpart, urNol? What is he, the Herbalist? Noticed anything missing about him lately? I suppose his hand dropped off of its own accord? His eye vanished overnight through some… some fluke?”

UrGoh lowered his eyes. He had received word of the Herbalist’s plight, but had not looked into it. He remembered skekGra’s previous lamentations about the cruelty of Skeksis punishments and, for the first time, began to wonder…

SkekGra drew himself up higher, his eyes dimly lit with a familiar sort of victory. It was a light that flared and then died once more, as the realization of what that victory meant sank in. “Thra may have chosen to unite us, but the others will never be convinced. Never, Wanderer. It’s not in their natures!”

UrGoh’s breath caught. “And yet… it is in… ours?”

That gave them both pause.

“This was never in my nature,” skekGra said quietly. “I shouldn’t still be here talking to you. I should follow the winding trail of those urRu to see where you things like to vanish beyond our sights. I should bring you all to the Castle in chains.”

They looked at each other.

“I would… like to see you attempt… to chain up the Archer,” urGoh said mildly.

“Who’s chaining up longnecks?” a cantankerous voice demanded, making them both jump. “What’s all this racket?”

Both skekGra and urGoh spun around, the former brandishing his weapons again instinctively. But just as quickly he lowered them, and urGoh raised his head in astonishment.

Before them stood an old crone, her mane of gray hair curling around two spiraling ram horns and framing a face that once had three eyes. One eye had been put out over a thousand trine ago, while another was dimly lit, but still seeing. The leftmost eye, meanwhile, darted accusingly between the Skeksis and Mystic before settling on the latter.

“Well? Why are you shouting up the forest while some of us are on important business?”

UrGoh realized his mouth was hanging open.

"...Mother... Aughra,” he said. “You’re… awake.”

“Yes, awake and needing to know what’s going on beneath the stars rather than through them,” the old woman replied. “And you can start by telling Aughra…”

She stopped, turning to eye skekGra and then back to urGoh.

“What disaster has befallen Thra that a Skeksis would consult with a Mystic once again?”

#skekgra #urgoh #urva #the dark crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #aughra #ursu #skekmal #ursol #fanfic #my writing #my art #for unity #AAAAAAAAAAAAAA SORRY THIS TOOK AGES TO POST #2020 was ... a year

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

PatB Nova Ch 8

Ch 8: Radiant

It’s been a long time since I updated this fic. Thanks for your patience!

FFN Link, AO3 Link

Brain scrambled off Pinky as soon as he was able to move. Though part of Pinky wished the moment had lasted longer, he was happy that his best friend was okay after that mean ol’ Mr. Lamont squished him.

Brushing off the dust from his favorite pair of denim shorts, Pinky hopped to his feet like a piece of fresh popcorn. Next to him, Brain wiped the lens of his sunglasses on the inside of his shirt and slipped them over his eyes. He ran his fingers over his antennae to get the kinks out.

“Are your hands okay?” Pinky asked, grabbing Brain’s hands to make sure there was no bleeding or bruising or barbecuing. “Your elbows? Kidneys? Crookedy tail?”

“I’m fine. In case your addled mind can’t tell, no extremities are out of place and my internal organs have remained internal,” Brain grumbled. He turned his attention to the frightened worker, who was scrambling to pick up the scattered items Mr. Lamont had rudely thrown to the floor. “As for you, your inaction almost cost me my guide! Have you no shame?”

The worker, whose name was Conner according to the spiffy name tag on his chest, glared at Brain and angrily threw a baseball cap into the box. “And risk my job here? No thank you! What were you thinking, talking to Mr. Lamont like that? You trying to get us all in trouble?”

Brain scowled and folded his arms. “I will speak to Mr. Lamont however I desire. He’s hardly different from any other inhabitant.”

“If you want his lawyers ripping every cent out of your body, that’s on you,” Conner snorted. He stood up and nudged the box behind the podium with his foot. “But leave the rest of us out of it. Just what rock have you been living under if you’ve never heard of him anyway?”

Brain’s fur started to bristle, and Pinky nudged him aside. “Sorry about my friend,” he said to the worker. “He’s new here. Poit! They don’t even have blueberry bagels where he’s from, you know.”

“Yes, truly scandalous,” Brain scoffed. Though Pinky figured he really did wish he’d been introduced to the joys of bagels sooner.

For a moment, Conner was silent, but he accepted the explanation with a sigh. “Well, guess I can cut you some slack then,” he muttered. Brain tapped his foot impatiently, and Conner plopped into his chair behind the podium. “You just backtalked the guy who owns a good chunk of the city, including the mall. Displease him in any way and he goes complaining to the boss, then it’s a reprimand or a firing, and nobody here can afford that.”

Come to think of it, he might’ve seen Mr. Lamont’s face on the local news while channel surfing, but it could’ve easily been a large dust bunny or a mustard stain as well. He wasn’t sure which.

Oh well.

Then Pinky noticed a glint of light on Conner’s right hand. Conner ran his hand down his face, revealing a simple silvery band on his ring finger.

“I like your ring!” Pinky exclaimed. “Very pretty!”

Conner smiled sheepishly, a light blush over his cheeks. “Heh, thanks. Got married a month ago. Not really on the expensive side, but-”

“-but I bet you love each other very much!” Pinky said, giving Brain a nudge. “What do you think, Brain? Isn’t it just lovely?”

“Very,” Brain grunted, slapping Pinky’s hand off his shoulder.

Very extremely completely romantic indeed! Exchanging vows, slipping the rings on, the kissing and the cheering and the I do’s! Mounds of flowers and lots of food and dancing! And he couldn’t forget the bouquet toss! How could he forget the bouquet toss?

A sharp tug of his wrist brought him back to reality.

“This has been most enlightening,” Brain said, turning his back on Conner. “However, you have your objectives and we have ours. We’ll be on our way. Come, Pinky.”

As Brain led him back to the crowded parts of the mall, Pinky turned and waved to Conner. “Bye!” he called. “Have a nice day!”

Conner waved back, then he looked down and rifled through a stack of paper on the podium. “Hold on a sec!” he shouted, snatching up two small papers and running towards them. He had a much longer stride than them, so it only took seconds to catch up before they could rejoin the main walkway.

Pinky stopped in his tracks. Brain’s grumpy stomps came to a halt, but he wasn’t happy about the delay. His fingers tensed around Pinky’s wrist.

“I was saving these promotional coupons for some other time, but I figured I owed you for the trouble,” Conner explained, handing the coupons to Pinky. “Besides, it’s Free Burger Day. Might as well get the full American experience with your friend there.”

Reading through the info on both coupons, Pinky practically felt his eyeballs pop out of their sockets Looney Tunes style. Free cheeseburgers with a side of French fries? His tummy rumbled with hunger, and oh, where were his manners?

“Thanks so much!” Pinky exclaimed, hooking his arm around Brain’s, who made a surprised noise as he tried to read the coupons himself. He didn’t have the same excited reaction though. “Bye, Conner!”

With the coupons and Brain in hand, Pinky took off, darting around people’s feet, shopping bags, and the occasional stroller.

Brain never had fast food before either! Sure, it could be unhealthy, but it was so delicious all the same! Besides, the wheel would help get rid of all the bad cholesterol anyway.

“Wait ‘til you see the food court, Brain! They’ve got all sorts of things there! I wish you could try them all, but we need money for that and Conner was so very nice to give us coupons for free burgers!” Pinky shouted above all the noise. “Oh, watch out for that gumball machine!”

“What?” Brain yelled back. He was looking down, short legs trying to match Pinky’s speed, and not watching where he was going. He slammed into the base of a gumball machine, wobbling back and forth as if he was following the movement of the pretty swirling stars that appeared whenever one was dizzy. Mumbling something in Selenian, he nearly wobbled into the path of a kid’s sneaker.

Pinky tucked the coupons under one arm and dragged Brain away before he was accidentally squashed again.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky said once Brain shook enough of the dizziness away to level a glare at him. Even with the sunglasses’ dark tint, Pinky felt those pink eyes boring into him. “I’ll slow down a bit?”

“See that you do,” Brain replied, shoving his hands into his denim pockets. “And no more hand-holding. As one of the future rulers of this world, I refuse to allow the public to see me being carted around like a dead weight.”

“How can a weight be dead if it wasn’t alive to begin with?” Pinky asked.

Brain shrugged. “I don’t know, Pinky. You seem to lug the one inside your head around just fine.”

Pinky rocked back and forth on his heels, preening at the praise. Oh, it was so nice for Brain to take notice of all the weightlifting he did with his batteries!

Brain didn’t comment, gaze fixed on a nearby giant map of the mall. Pinky couldn’t help but wonder what color Brain liked most on the map. He liked the light blue himself, and the green and pink and yellow too. He couldn’t leave out any of the colors. They were all so pretty.

“We’ll have to figure out a different way to obtain money. Not to mention contacting Snowball,” Brain said. “I hope you have ideas, Pinky. Though I reserve the right to take that statement back any time.”

Pinky held up the coupons. In truth, he really couldn’t think about anything but lunch. His stomach growled at the very thought of yummy burgers and fries!

“Food court?” he said hopefully. “This is your first time at a mall, Brain. What mall visit is complete without eating at the food court?”

Brain rubbed his temples, ears falling slightly in annoyance. “If we go, will you stop thinking with your stomach?”

“Nope!” Pinky said proudly. How could he possibly turn down a free burger? “ C’mon, food court’s on the second floor! Last one there’s a purple pickled egg!”

o-o-o-o-o

They took the elevator up, since it was much safer than the escalator and they wouldn’t have to scramble up a flight of stairs. Besides, the elevator was next to a pretty wishing fountain. The water was a beautiful light blue, a stone dolphin spewing water several feet into the air so that anyone nearby was showered with a fine mist.

The mice tucked themselves into a back corner, where the large glass window provided a clear view of people tossing their pennies into the fountain. They kept their tails close so that a stroller’s back wheels didn’t run them over in the tight space.

A young girl tossed a penny into a high arc, and it splashed down near the dolphin centerpiece.

“Narf! What a throw! Whatever she wishes for, it’s gonna come true for sure!” Pinky exclaimed as the elevator started to move. The family they shared the elevator with chatted among themselves, the adults facing forward while the boy lifted the cover of the stroller and made funny faces to the baby inside.

They seemed happy.

Like Mom and Papa when they chased each other around the cage. He hadn’t heard from Sis in a while either. He really oughta write back sometime.

“Pinky,” Brain said, cutting into his thoughts. He seemed uncomfortable, though Pinky wasn’t sure why. Maybe Brain just wasn’t used to elevators. “I don’t see how tossing something into a body of water can result in a wish coming true.”

“It can if you wish all your heart,” Pinky said. “That’s how you go to Dragon Land.”

“Satellite scans have revealed no such country named Dragon Land on this planet.” Brain looked away as the elevator came to a stop. The doors opened, and the humans piled out first. He and Brain followed, and the empty space behind them was quickly filled with other mallgoers. “Assuming we’re at our destination, it’s probably best for you to think with your stomach for a while.”

The scents of delicious food filled the air, and the scent trail of an extra cheesy pizza slice was especially strong. Pinky inhaled deeply, his stomach grumbling just like Brain.

“But you said-“

Brain watched somebody throw away a styrofoam container. “Only until we’re finished with the food court. Anyway, you’ve…um, well you’ve got a leak on your face.”

“Oh, not sure how that happened. I don’t remember eating leeks. Poit,” Pinky said, wiping away the leeks with the back of his hand. The skin was a little damp when he looked again.

Oh. Not leeks then. They were tears.

Thinking about his family usually did that to him.

Just say narf.

He took a deep breath.

“We should procure ourselves a place to sit,” Brain suggested. He didn’t seem too keen on the lunch crowd. “Preferably a secluded area away from all this noise pollution.”

“Narf! I think there’s a few tables over there.” Pinky pointed to a chair that stuck out from behind a sub sandwich shop.

Surely enough, the tables were unoccupied when they went over to investigate.

A brief smile flitted across Brain’s face as he climbed onto the table. “Good work, Pinky,” he said as he sat down, feet swinging over the edge. “With my current observations, you have to exchange those coupons for our meals, correct?”

Pinky nodded.

“In that case, you grab our food and I’ll remain here.”

“It’s gonna take a little time, Brain,” Pinky admitted. The line for the burger place was at least ten people. Or one hundred. It was hard to tell from this distance. “You sure you don’t wanna stand in line with me?”

“I’ve been trampled once and had many near-misses today.” Brain crossed his arms. “I’m long overdue for some peace so I may ponder quietly to myself.”

The coupons crinkled slightly in Pinky’s hands. Brain couldn’t move with squished antennae, and his accidental crash into the gumball machine probably didn’t do him any favors. And of course there was the crash landing from just a few days ago.

Being alone again was…well, after meeting Brain he just couldn’t imagine it anymore. Pharfignewton was lovely and kind and fast, but she couldn’t live in the lab and he couldn’t live in the stables.

“If you say so.” Pinky turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder at Brain, who was lying on his back with his sunglasses still in position. He didn’t think they’d be very comfortable though. “Brain?”

“What?” Brain snapped.

“You’ll…you’ll still be here when I get back, right?” Pinky asked.

“I already told you, Pinky. I’m staying put. Now kindly allow me time to plan our next move.”

Pinky’s tail perked, and with a little more confidence and a skip in his step, he joined the burger line. Though the line was long, he didn’t mind. The long wait would just make the burgers tastier. He could already taste the melted cheese and sweet tomatoes.

o-o-o-o-o

Ten minutes later, Pinky was only halfway to the counter. He tried to make small talk with the woman behind him, but she was too busy playing Candy Crush on her phone to hold a conversation. Then he tried to talk to the guy in front of him, but he had a headset on, the volume loud enough for everyone in earshot.

While Pinky wasn’t familiar with the punk rock scene, he thought the beat was pretty good, and his foot tapped along to the music.

Another five minutes passed. Pinky was fifth in line, a gap between him and Headset Guy open so people could pass through easily.

He was close enough to the counter that he could easily hear the cashier explaining to a customer that one of the grills had gone out and they could only cook so much at a time. Was that all? Pinky didn’t see why she had to apologize for something she couldn’t help.

Pinky hummed quietly, lost in the music, occasionally glancing at the area where Brain said he’d be. Though he’d hoped Brain would keep him company in line, he knew Brain needed his rest too. It would do wonders for his dark bags and stress lines.

A high-pitched thwap-thwap-thwap made his ear flick. At first, he thought it was just an odd beat in Headset Guy’s music, but he turned it down so he could place his order. The noise continued, even when Pinky batted his ear like he was trying to clear water from his head. Something tiny and dark flitted around in the corner of his vision. Pinky looked up.

Next to the burger shop’s sign, a small black camera hovered with spinny propellors. It looked a lot like the camera that had bopped him in the head when he first met Brain. Maybe it was the same brand?

It had a silver ‘NS’ emblazoned on its side. Pinky couldn’t think of any logo that used NS.

Oh, what if it was taking pictures? He wanted to look his best! Quickly, he adjusted the hem of his lavender blouse and posed like a supermodel walking down the red carpet. His blouse was a lovely piece of clothing after all.

The lens focused once, twice, then quickly zoomed towards the high ceiling and out of sight.

Maybe he should’ve worn a matching necklace.

“Next,” the cashier said as Headset Guy picked up his order and walked away.

His turn now! Pinky rolled up the coupons and tucked them under his arm, then climbed up a pole and onto the counter surface.

“Two burgers and fries please,” Pinky said to the cashier, whose smile didn’t reach her eyes. He slid the coupons over, and she tossed them onto a pile from previous customers. “And two waters as well. Oh, could I get those both in the kiddie cups? I really like the colors on those.”

The kiddie cups were a lovely shade of sunshine yellow with happy kiddos on them. He thought they looked nice.

The cashier moved away without a word, mechanically filling up two colorful cups with ice and water and covering them with bright red lids. She left them by the water machine and went into the back, coming out with an almost bursting paper bag. Then she loaded it onto a paper-lined tray and pushed it towards Pinky, tossing two straws, a few ketchup packets, and a set of brown napkins onto the tray.

“Enjoy,” she mumbled.

“Thanks!” Pinky grinned. “Oh, the waters are by the machine thingy. Troz!”

The cashier marched over to the cups, snatching them up and slamming them onto the tray with a loud bang that Pinky nearly fell off the counter in surprise. “Sorry…” she whispered, eyes downcast to the floor.

“It happens! Don’t worry. Thanks for your help!” Pinky said, but his reassurance didn’t seem to mean anything to her. She just stood there, ignoring the line’s shouts to get a move on. The woman behind Pinky didn’t seem to notice anything, her thumbs tapping away on her phone.

Pinky dragged the tray to the edge, only to run into a new problem. If he pushed the tray off, he would spill everything. And he didn’t want to drag the tray to the table either. That was just unsanitary.

“Oh…um…could you help me with the tray please?” Pinky asked. The cashier didn’t seem to notice. Pinky rubbed his neck, scuffing his foot against a taped down paper menu on the counter. “Sorry. Poit.”

Maybe one of the other mallgoers would help out? Pinky called for help to the people behind him, but nobody wanted to give up their place in line or just hadn’t heard him at all.

“Kelsey! What’s going on out there?” Another worker stomped up to the front, but when Kelsey didn’t reply, her stormy expression was quickly replaced with concern. She was an older woman with hair in a tight bun, and she struck Pinky as someone that shouldn’t be messed with. “Oh. You need a moment?”

Kelsey shook her head, staring vacantly at the wall. “Just one of those days, Paula. I’ll be fine.”

She was definitely not okay though.

“You can take a moment if you want to. I don’t mind,” Pinky chimed in.

“What the little guy said,” Paula agreed, then shot Pinky a curious glance. “Ya need tray help? Seems a bit heavy for ya.”

Pinky nodded, stepping onto the paper-lined tray. “If you don’t mind.”

“Alright,” Paula clapped her hands, then picked up the tray and put it into Kelsey’s hands. “Kelsey, help this little guy out, then freshen up in the restroom.”

“What?” Kelsey yelped, her eyes widening to an almost comical degree. “Are you crazy? If Derek finds out-“

Paula shrugged. “Derek’s too busy cozying up to the rich jerk to ‘manage’ right now. And if he does turn up, I’ll cover ya.”

With that, she shoved Kelsey out of the workers’ area and took over her place as cashier, handling orders with ruthless efficiency.

“Narrrrf, she’s amazing,” Pinky said in awe.

“Better manager than Derek. Even without it being official,” Kelsey sighed in resignation. “Which way?”

Pinky pointed straight ahead. “Behind the sub shop. This is the first time my friend’s ever eaten a burger. I bet he’s just gonna love these!”

Kelsey didn’t press for details. She just walked ahead, balancing the tray in her hand and trying to not bump into people.

They found Brain curled up on the table, Pinky’s tail wagging on the cute little sight. Brain’s chest rose and fell, but even when Kelsey set the tray down, he didn’t respond.

Pinky was about to scold him for being rude, then he heard a high-pitched whistling sound.

He giggled. Brain was asleep and snoring again.

Though he really needed to learn not to sleep with sunglasses on. His fur would get all smushed.

“Hey…sorry I snapped at you. And thanks.” Kelsey’s eyes were watery, and she dabbed at them with the back of her hand, trying to smile anyway.

“It’s okay!” Pinky said. “Thanks for the help. Now get yourself cleaned up and treat yourself to something nice later!”

Kelsey gave him a thumbs up and walked away.

Pinky waved goodbye until she was gone, then hopped out of the tray and gently shook Brain’s shoulders.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” Pinky sang. “Before all the good eggs are gone and we’re just left with a pile of mush, Brain!”

Brain muttered something that could’ve been either ‘go away, Pinky’ or ‘lo mein, Binky’. Lo mein was definitely going on the list of foods Brain had to try. Really, how could Pinky have forgotten Chinese food of all things? It was so obvious now that he thought about it!

Instead of waking up, Brain rolled over and scratched his side.

Pinky put his hands on his hips. He needed to take more drastic measures.

Crouching on all fours, Pinky slowly crept up to Brain, approaching him from the front to avoid being zapped by the tail orb.

Closer…just a little closer…perfect. Brain was completely unaware.

Pinky tensed his muscles, and on the count of one, two, and narf, he pounced.

“SCRIK!” Brain swore as Pinky’s hands landed on his chest. With a startled gasp, he sat up quickly, the sunglasses pushed up to his large forehead. The sudden motion made Pinky lose his balance, his head landing in Brain’s lap.

“Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty!” Pinky grinned up at his best friend.

Brain’s cheeks reddened. He pushed Pinky off, quickly hiding his eyes behind his sunglasses. He folded his arms grumpily. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was sleep-pondering. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” Pinky asked. He hopped to his feet and skipped over to the tray.

“It’s too…complicated for your feeble mind to comprehend, I’m afraid,” Brain replied. He didn’t look Pinky in the eye, focusing on the tiny print on a ketchup packet instead. “Yes. Very complicated.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Pinky nodded. He tipped the bag onto its side, dragging the burgers out by their wrappers. “You don’t know what the difference is either, do you?”

Caught in his little fib, Brain went silent.

He ignored Pinky and unfolded one of the burger wrappers, tearing off a small piece of the bun and sampling it. Then he shrugged. Not bad, but not spectacular either. But it was the inside part of the burger that really counted.

Pinky brought out both cartons of French fries, popping a small one into his mouth. Crunchy and salty, just how fries were supposed to be.

Since the cups were bigger than both of them, Brain unwrapped the straws and punctured the lids with one end while Pinky tilted and held them in place.

Their little dining setup was complete. Though they didn’t have any scented candles, Pinky pretended there was a vanilla-scented one next to the tray, its sweet fragrance wafting in the air.

Licking his lips, Pinky unwrapped his burger and took a large chomp out of it. The taste of cheese, beef, and tomatoes flooded his mouth. “Narrrrf,” he hummed in delight, wiping away a spot of mustard on his chin. “How’s yours, Brain?”

Brain had only eaten part of the top bun so far. Instead, he pulled the contents out one at a time and took small, cautious bites. He didn’t seem to mind the mustard, and most of the ingredients he seemed to like just fine. He was indifferent to the lettuce.

Then he got his first taste of a pickle, and his antennae orbs sparked violently. Pinky laughed at the comically fast speed Brain spat out a pile of green mush. He snatched up a napkin and wiped his tongue on it, sounding very much like a cat hacking up a hairball.

“Drink some water. It’ll get rid of it faster than the napkin. And also cause you’re just gonna wind up eating whatever napkins are made out of. Trust me. You don’t want that,” Pinky suggested.

Brain took his advice, making loud slurping noises with his straw, then finally calmed down.

“Cease your laughter, Pinky,” Brain grumbled as he removed the rest of the pickles from his burger and threw them in Pinky’s direction. They landed next to Pinky’s fries. “And take these disgusting so-called edibles off my hands.”

“Will do!” Pinky tossed two pickles into his mouth. “Hey, so what’s the grossest food they had on New Selene? There’s gotta be something too icky for us poor little Earthlings to understand!”

Brain hesitated. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say. I’d hate to spoil your abnormally large appetite.”

“Never in a million billion eight hundred trozillion years!” Pinky gasped, putting a hand over his heart. He’d always wanted to do that! It was so much fun being dramatically offended.

“If you insist. But I warned you, so don’t try to claim otherwise,” Brain said.

Pinky tore open a ketchup packet and squirted it onto the burger wrapper, then motioned for Brain to continue. Brain slid his ketchup packets over to Pinky. There were a lot of things that went on French fries, but Brain seemed to like them plain.

“Cuisine on the colony was made to be sustainable for long periods of time. Because survival was more valued, flavors and variability were often lacking. I would describe food on New Selene as more bland than outright disgusting,” Brain explained. “But to humor your question, there’s an aquatic species called dholmuth from the imperial planet which can be caught and used for food. However, it’s only attempted by the foolish or the desperate. No sane being wants to deal with a delicacy that smells like the unholy combination of fuel exhaust and rotting corpses.”

Pinky wrinkled his nose.

Brain shrugged. “I warned you.”

“Alrighty, so what’s the most delicious, positively scrumptious thing you ever ate in space?” Pinky asked.

“Rusuphri,” Brain said without hesitation. “They were in the bag you found with me.”

He looked away, the half-eaten French fry in his hand wilting along with his posture.

Pinky snapped his fingers in recognition. “Right! The blue star candies! They were very sweet. I get why you like them so much!”

“Actually, they’re seeds, not candy, though I understand how…wait, how do you know they taste sweet?” Brain asked suspiciously. “Did you eat any from the bag?”

There was a dangerous edge in his voice.

“I…well, I ate a few that got scattered around the ship before I found you. It was a bit of a mess, really. But I never touched the bag. Honest!” Pinky held up his hands. “I’m sorry if they were important to you.”

Should he have not done that? There were so many, and they seemed so tasty. And the walk back from seeing Pharfignewton off had left him a little peckish, so he’d given into his hunger. Biting his lip, Pinky waited for the scolding that was sure to come.

Brain pushed his burger away.

It was only half-eaten.

“…Snowball found those rusuphri bags just before our departure from New Selene,” Brain said quietly. “I was going to split the remaining one with him upon our reunion. My apologies for accusing you.”

“You’re excused,” Pinky said, sighing in relief. He wasn’t going to lose his best friend over his own stupid actions. He was just grateful for that.

Pinky finished off his burger, licking the last bits of mustard off his fingers. He started on his remaining fries while Brain cleaned his hands with a napkin.

“Brain, aren’t you gonna eat the rest?” Pinky asked. “I didn’t make your tummy upset with me too, right?”

“Enough with your ridiculous notions, Pinky.” Brain shook his head, reclining against the tray’s raised edge. One hand rested across his pudgy stomach, rubbing a soothing circle into it. “I can’t eat anymore. That’s all. There was simply too much for just one sitting.”

Pinky made a loud slurping noise with his straw as he sipped his drink. “Zort! Really? This was just a small burger! Good thing they weren’t putting the largest ones on the coupon, huh?”

“Small?” Brain’s brow lifted in disbelief. “How does one categorize this meal as small?”

Pinky pointed to a man eating a burger that was triple the size of what they had. “Ooh, so that’s the triple bacon cheeseburger,” Pinky said. It had been advertised on TV a lot as a new addition to the menu. “Looks tasty.”

Brain’s mouth flopped open, like he’d never seen food that large in his life. “Your portion sizes are messed up.”

“Thanks. It’s an American staple. Just like burgers!” Pinky exclaimed. “If you’re not gonna eat the rest, can I have it?”

Brain made no motion to stop him, so Pinky figured it was okay to take the rest. He squirted ketchup onto the bun of the half-eaten burger and dug in.

“Should I be concerned over the state of your stomach later?” Brain asked.

“Don’t worry, Brain! I can handle it easy-peasy!” he tried to say, but it came out very muffled and with bits of tomato juice spraying from the side of his mouth.

“Clearly, your stomach is not your only vital organ that bears worrying about.”

o-o-o-o-o

Once they recovered from full stomachs, they went back to finding a hat for a snowball—no wait, that wasn’t right—finding a hat for himself and Snowball for Brain. But first, they had to stop in the play area!

It was filled with plastic structures of rocks, boats, fish, and water. There was even a lighthouse and a beach! All right here in the local mall! And of course there were the screaming, playful toddlers and parents who just seemed plain bored and weren’t paying any attention to their charges.

“La-la-la-la! Don’t you wanna play too, Brain? Look, I’m king of the world! Narf!” Pinky stood atop the highest point of a plastic blue tugboat, spreading his arms wide and leaning forward. He could just feel the wind and seaspray in his face!

“Pinky, you’re posing on a child’s imitation of aquatic transport.” Brain seemed just as zoned out as the human adults around him. “And don’t mock my rightful title with your childish playtime.”

“I’m not mocking, Brain,” Pinky said. “King of the world’s just the name of this pose!”

That seemed to get Brain’s attention. He slid off the bench, barely dodging a blonde-haired toddler who seemed intent on escaping the play area altogether.

“Is that a common pose for Terran royalty?” Brain asked. He climbed up the side of the tugboat, slipping a little as he tried to grasp its smooth surface. Pinky hopped down from his perch next to the little red steam whistle and offered his hand to Brain.

After a moment’s hesitation, he took it and Pinky hauled him up.

“Not really, but it’s pretty fun to do!” Pinky said.

Brain stood at Pinky’s former place by the plastic steam whistle, and Pinky balanced in the narrow space behind him.

“It’s protocol to stand in the highest position so that one may assert superiority over the population,” Brain declared.

“Oh, that’s very good, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed. At his praise, Brain’s antennae perked. “Now spread your arms out wide like you’re giving the air a great big hug!”

Slowly, Brain spread his arms out. “And what purpose does this serve?”

“To make you look more royal of course!” Pinky said. “Though you’re more off-white in this lighting than royal blue.”

The corner of Brain’s mouth quirked up. Yes, now he saw the appeal too!

“Behold, I am the Brain! One of the future mighty kings of this world!” the shorter mouse announced, arms held triumphantly out to his sides. Below them, the children paid no mind and continued playing. The adults didn’t care either.

Well, if they didn’t know how awesome his friend was, then he’d just have to show them!

Far beyond the skylight, a cloud moved away from the sun, a beam of light shining down just in front of them. It was perfect timing!

Pinky lifted a startled Brain beneath his outstretched arms, hoisting him as high as he could.

“IT’S THE CIRRRRRRRCLE OF LIFE!” Pinky belted out.

“UNHAND ME AT ONCE, PINKY!” Brain screamed, his feet kicking out in little circles. He suddenly lunged to the right, and he and Pinky tumbled off the tugboat.

They collided painfully with the ground. Shaking the tingly feeling away from his lower jaw, Pinky cleared the swirling stars from his vision. Brain had landed a few inches away, face-first. He groaned as he lifted his head, the left lens of his sunglasses popping out.

“This pain will surely linger,” Brain muttered. He took off the ruined sunglasses and set it aside, where it was immediately snatched up a young boy, who ran off cackling with the broken frame on the bridge of his nose. “You’ve had your fun, Pinky. It’s time we got back to-“

A faraway melody made Pinky’s ears twitch. It wasn’t coming from the play area. Then a woman started to sing about breaking up with her boyfriend, though Pinky couldn’t place the specific song. There were a lot of boyfriend and breakup songs out there.

“-and we haven’t been to the third floor yet. Perhaps there will be something of value—where’s that horrible racket coming from?” Brain scowled as the woman hit a high note that was far beyond her voice range.

But she sounded like she was having fun, and that was the most important element in karaoke!

“That’s no tennis racket, Brain! That’s karaoke!” Unable to contain himself, Pinky tucked Brain under his arm and shot off like a rocket, following the trail of music to its source, which turned out to be an electronics store.

Upon seeing all the technology behind glass, Brain’s pink eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and his demands to be released stopped instantly.

“I can’t believe you have all these devices lying around like this…” he murmured. “It pales in comparison to Selenian tech of course, but this is much more advanced than what I was expecting.”

As much as Pinky loved playing with the apps, they were here for another reason entirely. Namely, the TV screen displaying a karaoke program just a short distance away from the entrance.

The woman who’d been singing earlier set the microphone on its stand and walked away, leaving the area up for grabs. Pinky set Brain down, and he darted away, climbing up a display table. His face scrunched up in pondering mode as he examined a smartphone much larger than he was.

Scrambling up to the microphone, Pinky spotted an open songbook nearby with a ginormous list of songs from just about every decade. Egad, there were a lot of options! How could he choose just one?

Instead of flipping through every page, Pinky closed his eyes and shut the songbook. Then he opened it to a random page, and placed his finger on a spot without peeking.

There. He’d sing whatever song this was.

He opened his eyes.

“AHHHHHH! BRAIN, I GOT A GOOD ONE!” Pinky screamed. Brain’s ears flicked in irritation, but Pinky paid no mind and inputted the matching number onto the microphone buttons. Since the mike was too big for him to hold, he swiveled it down to his level.

Best part was that his hands were free for dancing!

He hit the start button, his hips and tail swaying along to the catchy opening riff.

Ooh, see that girl! Watch that scene!

Diggin’ the dancing queen!

Pinky’s foot tapped in rhythm, and he lost himself to the melody.

He was at prom, and his all his friends were cheering him as he made his debut on the dance floor. Low lighting, a shining disco ball spinning above and creating a swirl of light circles around the venue. Everyone in handsome tuxedos and gorgeous dresses, some dancing, some eating at the buffet, and some were wallflowers shyly seeking out a dance.

He wore a beautiful floor-length pink dress, the skirt sweeping around with every graceful movement he made. A silver necklace rested just above the V-neck, a white corsage around his left wrist. And he felt absolutely beautiful.

He danced, and everyone was mesmerized. Everyone wanted to dance alongside him, and he turned no request down, because prom night was meant to be fun and he wanted to make everyone happy!

There was one wallflower who didn’t join in though. Nobody asked him to dance, and he made no invitations either. Just standing there with his arms folded against his chest. But his tuxedo was nicely pressed, a corsage pinned to his chest.

Pinky wanted to make this night magical for him too.

So he invited Brain to dance.

Brain stared at Pinky’s inviting hand. He blushed, slowly placing his hand in Pinky’s.

And dance they did. They commanded all the attention.

Pinky’s graceful movements contrasted with Brain’s sharper ones. The spotlight was on them. Their audience was captivated.

They were called to the stage. And they were crowned king and queen of the dance.

Brain gave him a genuine smile, and together they danced in celebration.

o-o-o-o-o

He finished the song to raucous applause. When Pinky opened his eyes, he was surrounded by a crowd of people on all sides. They cheered loudly and started calling for song requests. One man took off his blue baseball cap and set it upside down next to Pinky, and the audience tossed in dollar bills and quarters.

“Egad, a hat for me?” Pinky wiped a happy tear away, flicking his hand down bashfully. “You shouldn’t have! But as my thanks for being such a lovely group, how ‘bout some song requests?”

Over the next fifteen minutes, he performed Footloose, Don’t Stop Believin’, and Accidentally in Love.

He’d drawn Brain’s attention by the end of the third song. With some difficulty, he squeezed through the packed audience and climbed up the stand where Pinky stood.

Oh, maybe they could duet together! That would just be lovely! Pinky flipped through the songbook for any duets, but Brain grabbed his snout and yanked him down before he could decide.

“Pinky, this isn’t getting us any closer to our goal!” Brain snapped. “We can’t laze about here all afternoon!”

Pinky giggled as his nose pressed against Brain’s face. Brain reeled back in surprise, his antennae sparking when he realized how close they were.

“Narf! I’ve got my hat, Brain. I’m just singing as thanks to everyone!” Pinky said. “So I achieved my goal exactly as you said. And now I finally have a hat so I can properly root for Pharfignetwon!”

“So you did, Pinky,” Brain sighed. “A most unorthodox way of accomplishing your objective, but at least this will put you a step closer to striving towards something much larger. Now we just have to find a way to contact Snowball. Fortunately, this store may have parts that will enable me to create a tracker. The money you’ve earned should be sufficient enough.”

He gestured to the cap, which was now overflowing with cash.

“But I can have the cap?” Pinky asked.

Brain nodded. “Yes, Pinky. You may have the cap. Now, we must take our leave.”

He grabbed the cap by its brim, dragging it to the edge of the table before Pinky stopped him. “Hold on a sec, Brain,” Pinky said, tugging the cap back before Brain could push it off the edge. “Since you’re here, you wanna sing a duet with me? Please? Then we can go find Snowball together!”

Brain’s fingers tightened around the brim. “I don’t sing, Pinky. There was…no need for it on the colony. It served little importance to scientific endeavors. Besides, we came to conquer, not pursue singing careers.”

There was a tinge of…bitterness? No, not bitterness. More like embarrassment.

“Brain? Do you like music?” Pinky asked.

Brain let go of the brim and stared out into the crowd, who waited impatiently for Pinky to begin a new song. Then Brain looked down, his cheeks flushed, and he gave the tiniest of nods.

“I’m not a singer though,” Brain muttered.

“You don’t have to be to just sing,” Pinky said. “You can let loose!”

Brain shook his head. “There’s an audience here, Pinky. I’m not doing it.”

Pinky went to the songbook and flipped the pages until he found the duet he was looking for. He still really wanted to do one, but he didn’t want to make his best friend uncomfortable either. “Well, I still really wanna pick a duet, but you don’t have to sing. Just feel free to join in if you want.”

“I won’t,” Brain said stubbornly. He sat down with his back against the crowd, a short distance away from Pinky and the microphone. “But I suppose your offer is acceptable. One more song, and then we purchase the parts I need for a tracker with that money.”

“Okey-dokey, Brain. Zort!” Pinky typed in the matching number, and the song title appeared onscreen. The songs he’d picked earlier were all high energy and fun. This one was slower, more tender.

And he really wanted to sing for Pharfignewton so she’d hear him. Horses had excellent hearing after all.

Pinky turned to the audience. “Everyone, you’ve all been great. I have to go after this, but I just wanted to dedicate my last song to my girlfriend Pharfignewton. She’s a marvelous mare who’s dreamed of winning the Triple Crown since she was just a young filly. We love each other a lot, and I miss her so much, but I know she’s gonna do great out there in the Derby!”

The crowd made sympathetic cooing noises. Several people had their phones out to record.

“And I also want to dedicate this song to a missing friend of a friend. We don’t know where he is exactly, but I just know they’re gonna be super happy when they find each other again.”

Brain gave him a surprised look, which melted into one of gratitude.

The opening notes for Somewhere Out There played. Pinky took a deep breath and poured his entire heart into the melody.

Somewhere out there

Beneath the pale moonlight

Someone’s thinking of me

And loving me tonight

Pinky caught Brain’s eye, but the alien quickly returned his gaze to the screen, which displayed a beautiful Hawaiian beach at nighttime.

He hoped Pharfignewton was thinking of him.

Pharfignewton had to be almost to Kentucky now. If she won the Derby, then she would move onto other horse races, photoshoots, and interviews. Not to mention all the eating and sleeping so she could be at her best.

Sometimes, Pinky wished she could’ve stayed. But she had a career ahead of her. And so he let her go.

And when they reunited, they’d make up for lost time.

He sang the other singer’s part too, watching Brain in case he changed his mind. He seemed content with listening though, so Pinky let him be.

Somewhere out there

If love can see us through

Then we'll be together

Somewhere out there

Out where dreams come true

Pinky caught his breath as the instrumental began. All this singing was making his throat dry, but he had to finish his song.

He wondered if Brain would ever introduce him to Snowball. Maybe the three of them could be besties!

The refrain started again. Pinky poured his soul into it, hoping they could find Snowball soon.

And the song drew to a close. Pinky’s throat tickled, so the last lyric was quiet rather than loud.

“…out where dreams come true.”

That was Brain’s voice. Deeper, hesitant, and whispering, but he harmonized well with Pinky’s higher vocals. Brain sang beautifully. It felt like being entrusted with a secret only the closest friends shared.

Though everyone clapped for Pinky, none of them heard Brain. The lyric was meant for him and Brain alone.

“Come, Pinky. We must make haste,” Brain said. He stood up, taking Pinky by the wrist and leading him to the table’s edge.

“Righty-o, Brain! Bye, everyone! Love you all!” Pinky waved goodbye to their captivated audience, then grabbed the cap’s brim, dragging it along behind him.

Brain tensed, ready to leap from the table to the ground. Then a flicker of movement by the store sign caught Pinky’s attention. Was the neon sign broken? They should really fix them.

But it wasn’t a broken, blinking neon sign. The color was too dark for that.

Pinky leaned back, trying to see what the mysterious thing was. It could easily be a bird, a plane, or Superman.

He leaned too far, and instead of a graceful leap, he and Brain tumbled to the ground. All the money spilled out around them, the cap landing on top of them.

“Pinky, I don’t care if you want to fall from moderately elevated platforms, but don’t drag me down with you!“ Brain snapped as he shoved Pinky away. He crawled out from underneath the cap, flipping it upside down and tossing the spilled money inside.

“Sorry, Brain. I was just trying to see where that dark thingy went,” Pinky said, scooping up a handful of coins and dropped them into the cap. Now that their audience was gone, it was much easier to see everything.

Including the flying camera just hovering around the entrance. The mini blades whirled above the main body, which had a silvery ‘NS’ on its side.

“Oh, that’s what I saw! Hi, Mr. Flying Camera! Narf!” Pinky waved to the flying camera, which shrank the size of its lens, almost like it was glaring at him.

“Mr. Flying Cam-“ Brain’s scoff cut short as he looked up. His pink eyes grew huge and round. “Pinky, that’s…that’s Selenian tech. The NS is a New Selene trademark.”

“A long way from home then, isn’t it?” Pinky asked.

Brain ignored Pinky’s question. Slowly, he walked towards the camera, his hand reaching out, expecting the camera to come to him.

But it flew outside the store instead, dodging any obstacles in its path.

“Come back!” Brain shouted, and he took off after the flying camera. Though he couldn’t fly himself, he dodged every foot and stroller in his dogged pursuit.

He never noticed Pinky.

“Brain, wait for me! Brain!” Pinky yelled. But the camera and Brain turned a corner and disappeared.

He tried to drag the cap and money behind him, but it only slowed him down. He’d never catch up to them.

Unless…

“Sorry, Pharfignewton,” Pinky whispered. He ran off, leaving the desired objects behind.

Someone would find a cap and lots of money. It would make their day brighter. He found comfort with that.

o-o-o-o-o

He found Brain outside a side entrance. The alien dropped to his knees, looking up into the afternoon sky.

There was no sign of the camera anywhere.

“Brain?” Pinky said. “Where’s the camera?”

Brain’s mouth trembled as he tried to stifle a stream of tears. But they came anyway, spilling down his drooping cheeks like twin waterfalls. His eyes bored through Pinky, like he couldn’t really see him. Pinky pulled him in for a hug, gently stroking the back of his large head.

For once, Brain didn’t protest, and he clung to Pinky like a lifeline.

“Gone,” Brain choked out.

End AN: CHAPTER COMPLETE. WHOO.

Naming minor OCs is surprisingly hard to do.

I used to really love Dragon Tales as a kid so I shouted out to Dragon Land here.

I fully admit to just conveniently declaring a Free Burger Day with a coupon cause the mice don’t have money. I have god powers and I do what I want. And I declare the mice deserve burgers.

The karaoke here is a program called Magic Sing, which is what I grew up with. Trust me, Filipinos adore their karaoke. Basically, you hook the microphone to a TV, and you input a number code into the microphone to bring up a song. For instance, 0001 brings up Elvis Presley’s All Shook Up.

Pinky has some abandonment issues.

Give them hugs. They need them.

#pinky and the brain #patb nova #patb fanfiction

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countessofbiscuit · 3 years

Text

all this devotion

Shaak Ti/Rancor Squad, Mature, 2600 words, 1/2 chapters . . .

Three things are certain in life: death, the Force, and the insistence of a togruta’s heat. Stationed on Kamino, Shaak Ti can now add rain and the dedication of ARC troopers to that list.

View all tags/warnings and read on Ao3 or find chapter 1 below the cut.

“Are you alright, General?”

The map on the viewscreen expanded. Shaak Ti stared at the dispersal of the Second Army, pointedly, more bothered than she cared to admit by how closely Blitz had chosen to stand. “Yes, Commander, quite,” she lied.

Blitz was one of the more solicitous Alphas, all of whom married intuition with professional pride in a way that said they wouldn’t want the Force even were it offered. He did not accept this untruth. “Lama Su called you mistress three times. You didn’t correct him.”

“There are battles enough, some days,” Shaak Ti said. Tackling the Prime Minister’s insistence on outdated titles was not one for today.

“And you never shy from any.” Blitz hadn’t moved, but somehow his presence grew with his confidence in being right. “You’re very hot.”

The bottom of Shaak Ti’s stomach puddled into her groin. Her stripes flushed. It was the worst thing he could have said. “Excuse me?” she demanded, finally turning to face him.

“Infrared doesn’t lie, sir.”

Shaak Ti felt incredibly exposed. Unfairly observed. She swallowed the impulse to tell him not to flag her with his senors, just as Commander Colt had firmly requested her not to flag them with the Force. Blitz was trying to be helpful. Kamino was their home, their area of responsibility. And although she was trying to be helpful, too, she was an interloper, a stranger whose character and peculiarities needed to be roundly understood in order for them to do their jobs.

And her body was candid.

It was determined to make an honest togruta out of Shaak Ti. She was more than warm. The burn was beginning. The kindling was there, dry and licked into flame by pheromones. The best air-scrubbers in the galaxy couldn’t hide some things from a predatory plains species. She’d smelt the lust on them for weeks, here in this bleached city where sterility was an art form, where nature was scoured clean. But where virility could not be controlled. Her arrival had caused a flurry of activity among the clone staff that had nothing to do with the presence of a Jedi or an outsider in their midst. It was in the unreserved awe of their deep eyes. In the damp patches on their training blacks. In the lingering ache in their wrists. Shaak Ti’s many senses had discerned it all.

Her heat was upon her, and it was inflamed. And she wasn’t in the Temple, anymore.

“Alright. I will own it.” She lowered her voice. “I’m not well, and I'll be even worse for the next day or two.”

Blitz’s helmet canted slightly to the left. He stepped even closer. “What’s wrong?”

How much I want to bite you. “That’s personal, Commander.”

“With respect, sir, we’re in a heightened state of readiness, and anything that may compromise your health — ”

“Command devolves the same.”

“If you expect to be incapacitated in any way, Commander Colt should be informed.”

Oh, please don’t name him, too. An idea was germinating in Shaak Ti’s mind, rooted in biology and matriarchal instincts — and in the kindness the command cadre had shown her when she’d stepped off that shuttle, Geonosian dust still clinging to her robes. Commanders Colt, Blitz, and Havoc had removed their helmets unbidden, in unison. They were the first fresh clone faces she’d seen, not bloodied or twisted in agony. And they were very handsome.

On Shili, she would’ve had a harem to protect and cherish and serve. And who would have served her in turn —

She banished the thought before she flared whiter in Blitz’s HUD.

The Council had sent her here that she might grow confident in her ability to teach and nurture success once again. To oversee a programme she feared rife with ethical abuse. To counsel the Kaminoans on sapient integrity and encourage them to regard the clones as something more than product. She was not here to satisfy herself with her subordinates, singly or otherwise.

She was a Jedi Master. If she couldn’t master herself in this, after all these years, how could she claim mastery of the Force that flowed through her? A Jedi had to rise above base needs — and be humble enough to admit problems and devise solutions with peers. Historically, the solution to this issue involved much meditation and a temporary relocation to a sealed chamber at the distant end of the itinerants’ hall.

Shaak Ti returned her attention to the commander still lingering with unnerving focus. “Fine. I will inform him.”

“Fine,” clipped Blitz. “Thank you, Mistress Ti.” He turned heel and left her gaping at his nerve.

And at the sway of his patterned kama below his belt. And the subtle smell of rain-damp wood he left behind him.

Later, when the ache between her legs gnawed at her brain, Shaak Ti hurried to the medbay to beg soporifics from a droid. A familiar lightness had set into her limbs, as her inguinal organs sponged up blood. Her awareness tunnelled. It became harder to hold onto the serenity of the Force — it was sensitive and slippery like that, like trying to grip a current of water. Existing in the moment, too, demanded great effort. She had to concentrate on exchanging a cold nod with Hina Me, on acknowledging the waist-high salutes of a cadet company, their backs straight against the bowed walls.

Shaak Ti finally reached her room. Tipoca City wasn’t warm, and still she blasted the air cooler in the colorless, compact space, made larger by the transparisteel wall that overlooked the ocean; a meditation stool, Fe’s beads, some cacti from the Temple Gardens — a reminder of rain’s blessing, not its ubiquity — formed the sum of its personal effects. She began to strip with trembling hands.

Maturation brought much relief. Her biannual cycles weren’t as long, nor dangerous; she’d been in the habit of meditating her way through them, though she always crashed afterwards, bandwidth of mind and body maxed out. When that failed, downers, a device, and some do-not-disturb instructions could set her right after a day or three. That would be her method here, where the Force flowed thinly and the air was thick with androgens.

Commander Colt was not told. Not explicitly. As her tool warmed in the nanowave, Shaak Ti fired off a simple message to him: she was seriously unwell, and he was to consider himself in temporary command of the Grand Army stationed on Kamino, along with its reserves and training facilities. She was on comms for emergencies, but was not to be physically disturbed for love or credits.

Alphas were headstrong. They were never satisfied when they’d found the end of a problem; they had to pull it up by the roots with both hands and ask the grass why it grew. She had come to appreciate this about them. Her respect had been earned three, four, five times over by their blistering competence that ran circles around her own sluggish climb up the learning curve.

But when they knocked on her door just as the nanowave dinged, Shaak Ti wished she’d never met them at all.

There were two of them. They had moved in step down the quiet hall, but her montrals weren’t fooled, picking up the mass of their footfalls. The Force practically shouted their signatures. Blitz she knew best: cool and supple, yet columnar, like the limb of some great, unseen god; and Havoc, gritty and shifting, the scree slope of a mountain. Shaak Ti had the disconcerting feeling that they could smell her — not in any conscious way, like she could smell them. Just enough that it reinforced a need to roam in pairs, which they never did. It was Havoc’s shift now. But it wasn’t her place to question their duty rostering, just as it wasn’t his place to come here as shift commander and order her from her quarters. Only the Prime Minister could do that.

“Sir, Commander Colt insists we escort you to the medbay.” Blitz’s voice was full and clear, without the canniness of a helmet.

Shaak Ti frowned. “My compliments to the Commander, but that’s not necessary,” she said, affecting an authority she didn’t feel. She felt drunk. It was a heavy intoxication that sagged in her lekku, not the giddiness that bubbled in her tips after one too many passes at the punchbowl.

The silence was mighty. If they were discussing next steps, it was in handsign.

“We know,” Blitz finally replied. “We’re here to help.”

Shaak Ti stood stunned, keeping her distance from the door. She would not open it. But she called her shimmersilk robe to hand, all the same.

Jango Fett, the Clone Template, their progenitor, had ordered the Alphas to obey and serve the Jedi. That was their prime directive. Shaak Ti wasn’t even sure what oath they’d taken, if any. But she was bound by many things; she’d spent nights committing the Republic Code of Military Justice to memory. Ill-treatment of subordinates and misapplication of service property came presently to mind. If she accepted their help, they would ask all manner of questions and seek her direction and would be bound to comply. It would not be right.

She gathered herself against the want clamoring in her body. “I’ve made myself clear, gentlemen. No assistance is needed. Medical or otherwise. Goodnight.”

Blitz spoke up again. “With respect, sir, we know about your condition — ”

“We may be Alpha planks, sir,” Havoc cut in, “but we can read. And you’re a textbook example of a togruta in estrus.”

Shaak Ti stifled a mewl in her fist. She hadn’t made a noise like that since her feral teenage years. She sagged against the wall. How did they ... ? It wasn’t a secret phenomenon, true — as mundane as any bodily function, really. But they had conspired! They had bored a peephole into her life. For the second time that day, she felt rudely observed.

It was, however, rather rich to be affronted by that, when she’d come here to oversee, monitor, inspect and otherwise snoop.

“Let us help you, sir. Isn’t it better that way?” Blitz offered.

So much better: gorged on pleasure, in throbbing harmony with all life, magnified by her own gifts. She’d done it once, with a clan on Shili during her maturation rites. It’d been almost enough to sway her from a different kind of service, as she’d lain there, an open vessel for every feeling, carnal and uncomplicated.

These men were under no duress, not in this moment. They were consenting, volunteering freely. Outside of Shili, no one had done that for her before, not even fellow knights; certainly no masters, even when she’d reached their ranks. Was it not a honor to the Force, to offer a kindness unbidden to someone in need? It would be over sooner, too: just a standard day, if they kept up the pace. She was well-matured and no longer in the prime of reproductive life. And there was more of them, in every sense ...

Shaak Ti’s hand had slithered between her legs, fingering into her wetness. She didn’t have to imagine how big they’d be. With the height of scientific pride and the depths of indelicacy, Hina Me had paraded four naked clones before her, one of each patented Fett type, bemoaning that she had no sample from their first test batch, for though deranged, the viable half had been remarkable specimens of human physicality. Their statures differed subtly, but Shaak Ti couldn’t help noticing that they were uniformly well-endowed. All eyes front, but only the Alpha clone had met hers, deliberate and defiant. Asking his name seemed inappropriate, and her embarrassment had only compounded with time, to still not know which officer had been made to endure that humiliation.

Had it been one of hers who thickened before her, until he hung heavy in her peripheral — ?

Shaak Ti squeezed her eyes shut. She skirted around her bed to the far corner of her room, under the cooling air duct, and stared out at the roiling deep. The silk glued to her, dampening with her heat. It would be fouled. So much the better, perhaps: it was a strange and shameful gift from Halle Burtoni.

“You cannot help,” she said, more to her reflection than to the men in the hall. What would her peers say? The opinion of the Kaminoans didn’t concern her, but they would surely go red in the fin and sniff at her. “I am responsible for you. As a — ” She didn’t want to say Jedi. It seemed unfair. A brevetship of chance, when they were more capable in many respects. “A representative of the Republic.”

“An administrative detail,” Blitz countered. “We were no one’s responsibility until you came along.”

Heat surged down her lekku. The primal excitement of a threat. “You question my authority?” Her white brow scowled back at her in the pane. Fett might have ordered them to obey, but had clearly said nothing about holding their tongues; they took grumbling and constructive criticism as an act of religion.

“No, sir. We respect it,” said Blitz. “Just as we respect your ability to act responsibly towards us when this is all over. Do you think we can’t do the same?”

Surely this constituted some form of entrapment. But Shaak Ti couldn’t find the logic to argue. Not when she felt like a besh with a body attached. “I cannot ask this of you,” she said. When the silence stretched, she realized she’d whispered it to the waves. She repeated herself, louder. “I cannot ask this of you.”

“You aren’t,” Blitz clarified for the record. “We’re offering.”

Havoc spoke up. “Honestly, sir, you’d be doing Blitz a favor. He’s been rutting into his cod ever since you got here.”

Shaak Ti wheeled round, lekku spinning, feeling the pressure wave of something imminent.

Then came the thunderclap of armor against the door. A scuffling ensued. They were fighting. Something absolutely unheard of in togruta males, and it was not attractive. At the same time, it was also potentially embarrassing for everyone involved in this bizarre negotiation.

If only her door had been locked from without, too. It was altogether too easy for Shaak Ti to slide it open with a flick of her wrist, allowing two clone officers to stumble into her room and out of sight.

Blitz and Havoc clipped halfway to attention in their confusion, shuffling their helmets under their arms. Their pauldrons kissing, their eyes not diverted. They looked surprised — youthful, like two Padawans whose Force antics had granted them access to the larder.

Or maybe that was her.

The room was suddenly so much smaller. Suffused with their scent, too: musky, undisguised, and mouthwatering.

Shaak Ti's loneliness burst its buried dam. She worked in separation, she lived in isolation. Nala Se was courteous, as welcoming as any Kaminoan could be, but she was not a fellow master. There was no community here that she might join. There were the troops and there were the natives with their rigid caste system. She understood a cadre of off-world trainers had lived here alongside the Prime Clone, but his death and the outbreak of the war apparently ended their contracts; a handful remained in the Special Operations wing, but they were Mandalorians — they made the Kaminoans look friendly.

These persistent men had changed everything. They’d just shifted the center of gravity. Shaak Ti’s every thought rolled down into her besh, hungrily. She needed to consume and be consumed.

She let her robe slip, giving in, only if for a night.

#shaak ti #rancor squad #alpha arcs #commander blitz #arc troopers

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