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spice-chan · 10 months

Text

Your Form parted from my Sober Mind

Alhaitham x fem!reader

Summary: Alhaitham was not an idealist, but he would fight tooth and nail for his ideals. A soulmate, in particular, conflicts with them.

word count: 10k

tags/warnings: soulmate au. this is dark. dead dove do not eat. rejection. mentions of murder. implications/implied of suicide. there's death in this fic (I'm trying not to spoil things here). Many different narrative styles, but it's all mainly from Alhaitham's POV. kind of mutual pining? mention of marriage. dreams are a reoccurring motif. implied sex, not too explicit but the act is described in enough detail

authors note: I came back from the dead...and made Frankenstein's monster.

“Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,

And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart,”

Alexander Pope, Elegy to The Memory of An Unfortunate Lady.

While everyone succumbs to a paradigm, that soulmarked people are irrevocably tied to one person, they are neglecting to consider alternatives. This consensus is harming the growth of Academia, and stunting further discoveries. Conducting further research on the phenomenon of soulmates is near impossible, because participation is scarce, as soulmarked people are very complacent, willing to take a backseat in their own future. I, as a soulmarked person, refuse to believe that some supreme deity is more aware of my own preferences and needs than I. In time, I shall prove that, and rewrite the way people view soulmates as we know it.

-Alhaitham

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

Alhaitham sighed as he trudged through the house of Daena, eyes searching for the book that he had been trying to borrow for the past few weeks. Not that he needed it, his grande personal collection spoke otherwise, but he had already gone through everything, his books more creased and spines wrinkled as evidence of his excessive care. He wished to borrow something new. Now if only the book didn’t seem to surge in popularity.

His eyes landed on the book, long legs striding to it with purpose, it was to be his for the two weeks duration, until a hand reached for it at the same time.

A spark ignited between your outstretched hands, however he didn’t feel repelled, rather the sensation seemed to send a comforting warmth to his heart that signalled safety to him.

This moment would become engraved in his memory, when his teal eyes landed on yours for the first time, he’d never cared to describe people’s physical appearances beyond what would be convenient to him, but yours seemed to be an endless pit of water that he could drown in.

Alhaitham staggered back a step, eyes panicked as his eyes searched for your wrist, heart sinking in dread as he saw the matching mark, now pulsing as it found its match. You appeared shocked as you took in this new found development, but by contrast, your lips curved up into a shy smile that he refused to admit was kind of beautiful.

“Oh my god”

You stepped forward, eyes curving down to look to his wrist and your smile blossomed even more as you confirmed it. Your happiness was however abruptly cut as he shoved his hand inside his pocket, moving past you to grab the book you two were previously gunning for.

“Well, I’ll be taking this.” he said, leaving you standing there. He wondered what you looked like standing there alone, in the house of Daena, seeing the owner of the mark matching yours dismissing you. It was quite unheard of, soulmates were usually quite eager, and the first meetings were always recounted as something magical. He wasn’t eager to join the herd though. This is how it was meant to be, two souls parting at the bypass, because he was not obligated to pivot his direction to match yours.

A thought struck him, his dread transforming to excitement. Soulmate studies had always steered clear of a certain direction, the road always seeming to carry an invisible hazardous warning that discouraged even the most willful scholars. Perhaps one is all it takes to finally discard the sign, ditched like an unseasonal winter coat on a summery day. One person who could prove that he is not willing to give in to the will of the Gods.

He looked at the mark on his wrist, no longer pulsing, his face impassive, stony, not betraying his inner dilemma. Possibilities flashed before his eyes, calculations, uncertainties. He shoved his wrist back in his pocket, the eyesore taunting him with its vibrant hue, marked on his skin like an inevitable reality.

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

That night, Alhaitham had a vivid dream, one he could recall with disturbing detail.

You and Alhaitham sat underneath the shade, Sumeru roses surrounded the two of you as he hugged you closer to his chest, his rose close enough to your hair that he could breath in your comforting scent while birds chirped, the flowers rustled, and your pages turned while the sun ordained you with it’s warmth. He wasn’t sure for a moment whether the source of the light was you or the sun. He didn’t care. He sighed, one out of comfort rather than fatigue or exacerbation, and you felt it tickling your neck.

You turned to look at him, smile blinding even as his lips remained in a thin line. You said something, but all his senses centred around his sight, and it was laser focused on your kissable lips. You pouted slightly, before leaning forward and granting him his silent wish.

As your lips touched his, his fake reality collapsed and he opened his eyes to the fuzzy shape of his room, disoriented at the delusion he had been sucked into. What prompted this dream? A curious question, one he didn’t have a silent clue how to begin answering. He breathed out, swiping his hair back, eyes glancing at the burgeoning morning sky. He wasted hours out of his rest dreaming about you. He’d rather not have dreamt at all.

He tried to make sense of what had occurred. Meeting you had most likely been the trigger for this dream, but he would need to conduct further analysis.

Most of Sumeru didn’t dream. Except for soulmarked people, they sometimes dreamt as they were deemed to be closer to deities. This idea was something Alhaitham didn’t buy into, but that’s only one more reason to carry on with this study that he dedicated himself to. Why would he dream of such a warm scene with you when he rejected you with his entire being?

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

Alhaitham’s theory, one he nurtured with the pride of a scholar, was that soulmarked people didn’t need their soulmates.

It’s quite belittling, in his opinion, for one to base their future and value on whether or not they had a mark, and to abandon their individuality based on a mark. Alhaitham had never felt like half of a whole, he had never felt like his cup was half empty, and he frankly didn’t feel lacking. Your presence was thus simply unnecessary. He didn’t desire it, nor need it.

You were however quite insistent on inserting yourself into his life.

“As I previously informed you, your presence is quite unneeded. In fact it’s bothersome, can you sit somewhere else?” Alhaitham could not believe that even his favourite spot in his favourite cafe is now being invaded by you. You’re like an invasive species.

“No, this spot gets the most sunlight. I can’t let you hog it, but I would be willing to offer you a drink as an apology for the huge inconvenience.”

Alhaitham gave you a brief glance, eyes looking to your face for a second, scrutinising you. Your content expression made him swiftly face his book once more. He tried making sense of your move, were you not offended? Did you have no pride?

When Alhaitham made his stance to you clear, you were too disoriented to rebuttal. What he declared to you was quite unheard of, so he isn’t too surprised. You flashed him a saddened look, not quite heart broken though, and not too discouraged it seemed. You had been pestering him since.

He surmised now that this was your way of trying to get to know him, accepting a drink means that he forgives you for intruding on his space, and he doesn’t.

“I don’t want to give you another excuse to stay.”

“I was never planning to leave Alhaitham. I already have every excuse to stay. Sunshine and a good view.” you said shamelessly, eyes raking his figure. Alhaitham didn’t look up from his book this time but he could bet that you were looking at your nails nonchalantly. He even found the way you said his name strange, the way you pronounced it was interesting, and he was almost tempted to ask you to say it again just so he could pinpoint the intonations a little more.

“Such as?”

Alhaitham didn’t hear you speak for a few seconds, but he paused his reading and looked you in the eye, deadpan and serious.

“I understand where you’re coming from. You believe being with me would be like, giving in, or something. That you accept that you are somewhat deficient and you need something to fill the gap in you.” you paused then, letting your words sink in with him, he couldn’t hide the way his poker face broke for a second. He certainly wasn’t expecting something insightful right this moment, and perhaps a tiny part of him felt touched that you weren’t undermining his thoughts as people had.

“But that’s not how I see it, I don’t see you as a person who needs me to complete him. The bond is simply the notion that we complement each other. We are a pair, Alhaitham. You cannot escape it, but being a pair doesn’t mean that we are broken halves of a whole. I wouldn’t be able to be with someone so lacking and neither would you.”

He let your explanation sink in, disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach.

“You are overlooking very important variables. It takes so many different factors to shape a person, how could anyone be certain with so many uncontrolled variables that the person will then grow to be their most complementary partner? Maybe my upbringing shaped me in a way that is simply not suitable to you. Maybe there is someone out there that suits you more. But you are letting a mark decide your future, how predictable.” came his reply, scathing, upfront. You seemed to contemplate his words for a few seconds, before slowly nodding.

“I see, but I will still believe in us. Just as deity’s watch over us and grant us visions, perhaps they are also aware of what our future holds and I will believe in their benevolence in pairing people-” he saw you fidget, saw your eyes avoid his penetrating gaze for two seconds before you resumed, once again resolute “-and just as you are unwavering in your beliefs, I will be unwavering in trying to prove to you that you and me belong together.”

If Alhaitham was a more emotionally impressionable man, he might’ve described his feelings in this moment as butterflies as you proudly proclaimed your intentions. He isn’t however, and he decided it’s rather an annoyance having you here.

He went back to his book, deciding this conversation to be over.

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

Entry 4, date xx

It’s unfortunate yet understandable that research guidelines forbid me from using my own personal experience in my research. It won’t deter me from writing these entries, detailing my experience, so that someone in the future picking up this kind of research may have at least one detailed example. It’s hard to find people who do not conform to the standard of being with their soulmates upon discovering them, even if it means divorce, relocation etc. This makes academic studies that challenge the status quo quite difficult. In time, I do believe that people will move to treating soulmarks with more lukewarm expectations.

My ‘soulmate’, a fellow researcher at the Akademiya, takes a stance quite oppositional to mine. Time did not deter her from pursuing me, nor her endless attempts at gaining my favour. It’s been a hassle, only made me wish I’d been born markless even more.

Some of her attempts included, but were not limited to

Buying me things. Such as a coffee (one of my more favoured drinks) when I’d fall asleep in the library, and resisting the temptation of consuming the beverage in my disoriented state was quite difficult, and wasteful. Consuming it does not therefore warrant any form of affection. Although it is peculiar that she always managed to find me at my most vulnerable.

Dispelling rumours about me. Quite useless, as I never cared what people said or thought of me, she was better off focusing on her pressing research. This asserts that soulmates are not more suited to each other than any average pair on the street, as assuming we have this telepathic connection would mean that people finding me unapproachable is rather helpful for me. Needless to say this method of hers was the least useful.

Always talking to me. Though her tactics changed over the years. She no longer makes small talk, or attempts to change my mind. She now attempts to use my hobbies to make my brain associate her with my interests. She brings up books that I’d borrowed, sparks a discussion on them that would leave me no choice but to respond to her avid attempts at dialogue. She impressively did seem to digest the contents of the books quite well, and my enthusiasm when conversing about say, “How Language is a Tool of Policing”, does not equate to my favour.

Buying me books.

This list seems to be getting needlessly long, and upon further thought it’s rather useless, so I will deign to stop.

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

A group of scholars trekked along the Avidiya forest, mostly Amurta students, so it’s no wonder you are there. Alhaitham is one of the few odd ones out, but considering his penchant for knowledge and innate curiosity, it's no wonder he’s there. Reading about different biological life forms in the rainforest is useful enough, but seeing with his own two eyes is a must. A few samples to test certain herbal effects would also be quite beneficial.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Green eyes took in the scenery, beautiful mosses and grandiose trees, aged and chipped and hanging a shadow over them, so massive that the humans beneath it looked to be of no special significance.

His eyes inadvertently landed on you. You were bundled closely to another Amurta student, one with fennec fox features. His shoulders were touching yours as his eyes drank up the papers in your hands with curiosity, and you didn’t seem to mind as you smiled and pointed at certain parts, talking animatedly.

Alhaitham curled up a grey eyebrow at the way the guy’s tail seemed one step away from wagging, what an inconvenient appendage to have.

He showed his notes to you, pointing at different places in the forest and pointing back to his notes, talking excitedly. You nodded, adding an input here and there, this discussion of yours seems very interesting. Perhaps he should move closer to hear what you and the star of Amurta seem to be discussing with so much excitement.

Alhaitham, who was previously intentionally lagging behind the group, with several steps was within a hearing distance between you and Tighnari. However, he was irked to know that he could hear nothing because you two, although animated, were speaking in hushed tones as if disclosing a secret in broad daylight.

With carefully measured steps, he weaved himself even closer, but not close enough to arouse suspicion. From this angle, he could see the way the so called star of Amurta’s long conspicuous ears pricked in your direction, unwilling to miss a single word out of your mouth.

“You’re so lucky Tighnari, Amurta is very lucky to have someone with your constitution, but trying out different mushrooms seems quite fun” you said, starry eyed at the so called Tighnari, all over some mushrooms? Alhaitham knows a lot about rainforest mushrooms, as any scholar should. Maybe the standards for Amurta Darshan are just lower these days.

“Well you’re in luck, I found a way to minimise the effects of the mushrooms by taking a small sample and boiling it, so if you’re quite interested you can come around to my place so we can test different mushrooms together.” Tighnari said, tone bordering on gloating as he seemed quite prideful in his discovery.

To Alhaitham’s chagrin, you nodded with child-like excitement, have you taken leave of your senses? This endeavour seems so dangerous and yet you’ve agreed to it without a second thought to your safety, or perhaps there’s another reason for your excitement.

Alhaitham can imagine it perfectly. You’d look at Tighnari with glassy eyes, flushed appearance, softly panting as you declare that the mushrooms seem especially potent-

No.

Time spent daydreaming is time wasted, and this same logic applies to thoughts of you. What you get up to is none of his concern, and who you get up to it with as well. He’s not with you in sickness or health, so he cares not if you possess either.

Alhaitham is despondent at the fact that one cannot tread the rainforest while reading a book. It’s naturally a recipe for disaster, as he might trip and fall and damage his book in an act of foolishness. It’s regrettable however, as your own foolishness has rendered him unable to fully take in his surroundings.

The group is taken to the camp as the sun bids adieu and the moon illuminates the rainforest in a faint light, making the shadows appear much more ominous as they towered and arched over the students.

Alhaitham pulled out his book, fully intending to consume his meal with the company of the pages in his hands, but you had other ideas, seeming to finally remember your mission of pestering him whenever you are in his presence.

“So, how did you find today’s trip?” always starting out with meaningless small talk, perhaps you are hoping he will one day humour you.

“It’s been great till now.” clipped and curt, as usual.

“Did you find it informative? It’s been great seeing so many different rainforest life forms. Maybe I should work for a few months here after finishing my thesis, if only to get more acquainted with the life forms. But I won’t do that before I sort things out.” you kept your words vague, but Alhaitham could sense the meaning hidden beneath them. You won’t move until you make this soulmate dream of yours a reality. He’s been rejecting you, and here you are making life plans around him, trying carefully to make him fit in with your plans. Planning the course of your life around him.

Choosing to conceal the reality of his day, he replies with an affirmative hum. You got the memo, choosing to open your packed food and eat, most likely busy with your own thoughts, while Alhaitham entertains his own.

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

Entry 90, date xx.

This might prove to be a complete coincidence, and I’m confused as to why it’s occurring myself, despite my investigations and various attempts at isolating and looking at different variables.

In the years I have known who my soulmate is, I have been dreaming. Eerily, my dreams usually concern her in one way or the other, so it must be something related to our bond. In my last dream, I can vaguely remember a warm feeling in my belly, as ambiguous as that sounds. I laid my head on her lap, reading, while she soothingly caressed my hair. Disappointingly, I do not recall the contents of the book, only the warm caress of her fingers that lulled me into a feeling of comfort.

The feelings of my dreams however, I am certain, do not carry on into my daylight hours.

Maybe I must admit I am somewhat impressed by her tenacity and persistence, perhaps that feeling is causing my subconscious to confuse the nature of our relationship?

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

Alhaitham is tired of whatever farce you are trying to play.

You are like a migraine to him, your arrival always a nuisance, a pain, and wholly unwelcome. You do not respect his choices, opinions. Your existence frustrates him, and he cares not that you always take great care not to cause him trouble. Your actions, while deceptively helpful, greatly annoy the scribe.

This year, his attempts at dissuading you have gotten rather harsh. This is because he can no longer afford you indifference. This can be traced back to when you left a cake on his desk. Congratulating him on his new role as scribe. The flavour was not overly sweet, it’s something he would usually enjoy consuming, but the feelings borne within his chest at the sentimental message written on the cake caused him to pause. The moths swarming his belly did not make sense, his response did not make sense. The cogs that always efficiently turned in his head seemed to clog at the thought of you.

An uncharacteristic rage blinded him that day, he did not feel this way in his life before, and when he sat reflecting on his now emptier desk after harshly dumping the cake in the bin facing his office, he thought that the new found nuisance in his life is more troublesome than he previously predicted.

One day, a golden opportunity seemed to land on his lap. A one in a million lucky chance. Though Alhaitham thinks a lucky chance is only one if you can reap the benefits it brings you.

It was a pleasant night, the air, while warm, was comfortable as cooler wind blew inside the tavern and ruffled his hair slightly. He was drinking alone, a choice he made as the comfort of his own thoughts was something he needed. He’d be able to ruminate in peace, had the cause of his irritation not found him once again.

“Oh my, hi Alhaitham. We keep running into each other, it’s almost like fate huh” you greeted, plopping yourself beside him, calling to the bartender to pass you a drink too, signalling the start of Alhaitham’s misfortune. So nonchalantly confident, your head always held up high around him, as if his attitude towards you is a mere playing hard to get.

He opened his lips, a scathing reply at the tip of them, until another irritation called out his name jarringly.

He turned his head, as several others did before minding their own business after briefly casting them curious looks.

“Soo this is where you spend your time! You could have invited me, you know.” some women from the Akademiya sat to his left, batting her lashes at him in what he assumes is her way of being coy and attractive.

He was halfway into finishing his drink. It’s a shame he’ll have to retire early as his night no longer holds the promise of peace. However, upon seeing you casting them a curious look, silent for once in your life, he got a much more brilliant idea.

It takes a genius to turn a stroke of misfortune into a lucky chance.

Although having never indulged in this sort of useless and amateurish behaviour, likening it to some sort of primitive mating call, Alhaitham is adaptable and a great actor when it comes to securing his own peace.

“Sorry honey, I’ve been somewhat preoccupied. Surely I can make it up to you” he feigned a cordial look, eyes raking through her figure. She’s not really his type. Her lap didn’t seem comfortable to lay his head on, and even the shape of her fingernails seemed to turn him off. Coincidently, some of your physical features are rather favourable to him, especially the shade of your eyes. Her voice also sounds grating, and he wished she'd never say his name again. But he put up with it, and even went as far is to brush his hand on her upper thigh, his implications clear.

His reply took you and her by surprise, shocked faces at the tone no one heard from the blunt scribe before, but her shock quickly morphed to glee.

“Of course! I’m not one to hold grudges” she scooted closer to him, and he quickly wondered if this was worth it, or a detour into wasting even more of his time, especially as her hands reached out and touched his shoulder, rendering him wordless with the awkwardness of having to tolerate her invasive touches.

He glanced at you, and your frozen made you look stuck in your spot, in disbelief, surely it’s not preposterous that he might pursue someone else? His lips willfully thinned though, when he saw how your previously frozen eyes melted into a volcano, rage swimmed within them, as your brows scrunched disapprovingly. He’d never seen you look like this, even when he threw all your attempts back in your face all those years. He’d never seen you look like you wished the ground would open and swallow him, and his gut twisted uncomfortably at the thought.

Perhaps this was all it really took to have you leave him be. He wondered why he never took this approach before.

He cast furtive glances at the other women speaking, unwilling to break this facade now, but he found that the air after you left seemed much more cold.

“You can stop bothering me now. Whatever you think could happen between us isn’t going to, but it was amusing seeing you gullible you could be.” he spoke while nursing another drink, his eyes not even meeting hers, though she might find this to be in her benefit. Although his clipped words were missing their usual edge, it still had the desired effect.

“You jerk, do you think you’re too good for me? I was willing to tolerate your dry personality because you had a pretty face, but your head is bigger than I thought. Bring yourself down to earth, at this rate you’re going to die alone and miserable as you always have been.”

People’s words never bothered him, and even now they do not. He chooses to live his life the way he chooses, and people’s opinions will never change his pursuit of personal peace. However, he found it interesting that one rejection from him caused her to spout so much venom at him, when years of him doing that to you didn’t have this effect. Is it that you’re patient? Level headed? Kind? Well, more like hopelessly foolish.

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

Entry 1023, date xx

For the past month, I haven’t seen much of her. It seems that before, she went out of her way to run into me. Ever since the night at the tavern, her pursuit seemed to end completely. This is what I wanted for years, isn’t it? I have finally achieved the desired results.

I am still as whole as the day I was born, I don’t feel lacking. I am fine.

-----------

Alhaitham finished up writing the latest entry, closing the journal and putting it inside his drawer. As he stretched, he caught sight of his face.

His facial hair seems to be growing out, painting his face in a five o’clock shadow. He stroked the coarseness, wondering why he’d missed his usual schedule of trimming.

He shook the creeping thoughts away, approaching his bed to finally get a much needed rest. He needs to clear the pesky thoughts away, so that he may finally enjoy the books he’s been meaning to read. You’d probably have something insightful to say about them, you usually seemed to.

Curses, why must his own brain betray him?

Sleep, when it finally came, was not peaceful.

He was frantically opening every door in his house, searching for something. Opening doors, searching, repeating.

The violent cycle went on, his heart falling every time his mysterious search reaped nothing.

He shook awake, panting so loudly that he wondered briefly whether he performed a strenuous exercise in his sleep, if the erratic thumping of his heart was any clue. It banged painfully against his ribs. His hair clung to his forehead, and his face felt suspiciously wet. He needs to calm down, so that he may analyse the cause of his restless sleep and eliminate it. But his brain stubbornly shut down, and Alhaitham's throat traitorously clogged up.

Deep breath. A response like this might not be any cause for alarm. Deep breath. Emotional hysterics will solve nothing. Deep breath.

Why do the walls feel like they are closing in on him?

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

It’s been 4 months and 6 days since Alhaitham saw you. Or heard from you.

This period is incredibly unusual, you never went so long without speaking to him. Is the thought of him pursuing another woman truly all it took to throw you off? Perhaps he gave your persistence undeserving credit. He wishes he could hear your thoughts, stumble into a journal of yours. If only to see whether his hypothesis proved right, that once you realised this you too came to your senses and realised you could lead a happy life without him.

His inability to know filled him with bitterness, yet why is he feeling such when he prided himself on only speculating things of importance? His frustration made him gnaw on his lips.

“I do think they look good together, she should take her chance with him”

Dimwits gossiping in the library might be the last straw, why is it that people can’t save their idle chatter for a more appropriate place?

“Yeah, but doesn’t (y/n) have a soulmark? This could end disastrously.”

What?

“Yeah but, it’s quite rare for soulmates to find each other nowadays, she shouldn’t waste her chance because of something that might never be.”

Who? And when did this happen?

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Alhaitham’s brain, if possible, might melt. An overload of thoughts, information, noises, all overstimulating him. But if he thought hard enough, it’s quite clear that this is another tactic of yours. You’ve gotten quite clever. It cannot be a mere coincidence that this gossip found its way to his ears, you must be trying to ignite some irrational feeling within him, jealousy.

Too bad he’ll never give you the satisfaction of seeing him this way.

He closed his book, a mere decoration at this point, and walked out of the library, thinking a walk would help clear his head.

“Yeah, he seems quite taken by her, I think he is seriously courting her.”

No matter what hallway he’s in, what direction he pivots to, the building of the Akademiya itself seems to be buzzing with talks of you and some guy. You’ve put a lot of effort into this farce of yours, did you take in the consequences? When this blows over, your dignity as a scholar would surely never recover. You’d be known as a gossipmonger.

Days have passed however, and the talk showed no sign of stopping. You and a wealthy sponsor of the Akademiya, who hails from Fontaine. He’d fallen in love with you, is courting you, and everything trivial inbetween. When did you even have time to catch the eye of someone so apparently important? It’s implausible, and incredibly petty.

Why are you nowhere to be found now?

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

Statistically, Alhaitham knows that it’s impossible not to have run into you by now. Unless you have been going out of your way to avoid him. He even changed his usual seating spot in the library, thinking that maybe he’d find you away from his corner. He’s been roaming in the city the past month more than he had in a year.

The worst thing is that he didn’t understand why he was going so far to find you. It defied logic itself, his persistence. It’s none of his business what you do, so he should give up while he’s at it. Come back to his senses, and live out his peace.

You seemed to haunt him though, and as his tired teal eyes roamed the cafe on his way once more, fate seemed to drop him a little trinket.

He squinted his eyes, seeing the familiarly patterned, maroon scarf that you always wore when it got a bit chilly. He rushed inside the cafe, eyes zeroed on it. Before looking outside once more in search of your figure. He’d probably just missed you.

The rational choice would be to hand over the scarf to the workers, you’d probably come in search of it, but before rationale could halt him, he took the scarf and left, but not before catching a whiff of your familiar scent.

This would give him a reasonable excuse to talk to you, you can’t refuse an act of goodwill from him right? He thought back, trying to find a single moment in which he’d done you a favour and not the reverse.

His stomach sank as he realised that he’d in fact never done a single act of goodwill towards you, he’d spared you nothing but harsh words of rejection and belittlement.

Perhaps this is why he’s been searching for you, to try and ease this feeling of guilt that hasn’t left him since you completely erased your existence out of his life. You’d made home in every corner of his life, trying to make it a little more bearable. You were a sacrifice to his philosophy, it couldn’t be any other way, because Alhaitham is equally stubborn, he’d never give in to the will of someone else who’s ordained how he must live his life.

But for now, he’ll take this scarf home, knowing deep down that he doesn’t intend to return it.

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

Alhaitham sat on the couch near his bed, watching perplexed as you made out with a clone of him. Your fingers tangled in his grey strands, beautiful, naked body straddling him, as if you were trying to become one with him, merge your being with his so that he may never try and discard you. Your lips moulded with his own, and he’d returned the favour with equal fervour.

Only, his grey hair began darkening from the roots down, becoming a pitch black colour. You pulled away, and he watched horrified as his clone’s face melted like clay, only to be reconstructed as the face of a stranger. You however appeared indifferent, eyes soulless and lacking the tenacity you seemed to possess earlier.

He stood up to try and take you away, but an invisible force pulled him back, leaving him only to thrash while a stranger held you, and you let him.

You let the stranger cradle your body, indifference melting into a bittersweet smile as your lips found his.

Alhaitham’s eyes stung, and he tried closing them to shield himself from the sight as you let a stranger make love to you, but he couldn’t. His eyes were made to be peeled wide upon as he watched and heard you, and his wrist burned, heart ached. But through it all, he’d only wished that you’d stop and look at him again.

But you didn’t, your eyes didn’t leave the stranger's body, not until they rolled back in ecstasy while you used his body for your pleasure. The strangers hands caressed you, and strummed your pleasure to a tune that only produced the most melodious sounds out of you.

Tears started falling down his cheeks. But he still couldn’t close his eyes.

Alhaitham opened his eyes, feeling like a dam had broken on his pillow as the moistness in his eyes blurred his vision.

He rubbed his tears away, but they wouldn’t stop, not for as long as he remembered his nightmare. You, so close, making love to someone else while he was forced to watch and hear.

Why did he have to be tormented even in dreams?

His heart hammered away so loudly that it felt like drums to his ears, his lungs refused to operate as an unbearable feeling of pain overwhelmed him. He pulled his knees to his chest as he willed his shivering to stop, the moon staring mercilessly at him as he rocked back and forth.

He suddenly remembered a find of his, and with a blurry vision he fished out your scarf, holding it up to his nose to breathe in the scent he’d been denied. He rubbed away his tears, not wanting to stain your scarf with it, and like something beyond reason his tears had stopped.

His sleep was dreamless after that.

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

Entry 1800, date xx

Dreams have been tormenting my nights, and reality torments my day. Why does it feel like I’m being continuously punished? Were my ideas so cardinally sinful that the deity’s above have taken to cause me misery?

I have once again devolved to foolish thoughts. It’s my thoughts that torment me, not any higher power.

If she’s anything to go by, then I guess my hypothesis has been proven correct. She no longer seeks me out, hasn’t done so in 8 months. When I catch a glimpse of her, it’s so brief it’s almost like a phantom. I do hear of her though, that she’s happy with another man. That they might move back to Fontaine together at this rate, that this might not be fling. She’d succeeded in something no one has succeeded at before her. She left her soulmate behind and pursued her own path. I was never needed.

The idea that she might move to Fontaine is rather far fetched though, as she is still a researcher, and this is but only one relationship. Moving to a completely new homeland to pursue such a fresh relationship is completely spontaneous and irresponsible. Especially considering she would need to abandon many of her projects.

They will most likely break up, they might not, only time will tell. But for the time being, she seems to have moved on.

-----------

Alhaitham’s haggard figure trekked through the Sumeru, eyes a dull green that looked sombre as he glanced through the stalls. Malnutrition is the most likely cause of the way he’s had no energy lately, even his bones seemed to ache in protest.

With a fresh bag of groceries in hand, Alhaitham walked back home, eyes downcast and somewhat soulless. He needs to cook today, needs to eat something and get on with his life. He needs to.

With his downcast eyes and general disinterest, he almost missed the crowd of awed bystanders forming a ring around two people. With one furtive glance, he deemed it not worth his time, until he caught sight of the second star of the show.

It’s you. Standing there. It’s finally you. Light seemed to come back to his eyes, if only for a brief second before horror overtook them.

It’s you, standing there, with a man kneeling on the floor proposing to you. A crowd of people all around you two, smiling, anticipating, gasping.

It’s you, nodding your head as another man puts a ring on your finger, his pitch dark hair and features nothing like Alhaitham, with one look Alhaitham can surmise that he’s everything Alhaitham could never be. His smiling face charms everyone in sight, he’s like a star that everyone wants to be near to bask in his aura.

Alhaitham doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe such a raw feeling with medical terms, but if he can be sentimental, he might be able to say that his soul hurts.

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

Dear (y/n),

The Akademiya is currently lacking in capable personnel, and as the scribe I had been entrusted with alleviating this issue using records of capable individuals. You had many great works under your belt, and I understand that our personal matters might’ve driven you away to Fontaine, but I find it rather immature that you’d go so far and abandon your responsibilities to pursue a relationship.

Please consider coming back, as the Akademiya is willing to offer you a new position that you might find to be to your liking, the job benefits are numerous such as a large residence in Sumeru and a very high salary with many days of paid leave. Please contact me for more information.

Alhaitham

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

Dear (y/n),

I have received your letter of rejection.

Perhaps the salary wasn’t to your liking? The Akademiya is willing to double it, all your research projects will be fully funded and approved and you may pick up where you left off without any hassle. Any additional requirements could be negotiated, it would surely not be ideal to disregard such a promising career and job title in the Darshan you have dedicated years to.

I apologise for any harsh words I have previously said to you, sometimes, well, most times my pride gets the best of me and I end up hurting people with my words. I would like to say that I never meant to hurt you, but at the time I did and I do feel quite regretful. Our personal matters should never be a reason for you to reject such a great offer. I understand that you are in a committed relationship, but you shouldn’t be discouraged to pursue other paths so early on in your life.

Alhaitham

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

Dear (y/n),

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I would apologise for every second I disregarded you if it means you might come back. I would give you anything. I’m sorry I didn’t before, and that it took me so long.

I’m pathetic, foolish, unworthy, and every derogatory term on this earth. But I also love you. I’m sorry it took having nothing of you in my life but a scarf you’d forgotten to realise that I love you.

When I sit in the corner of the library, I always save a seat next to me, hoping by some miracle you’d show up again. That you’d sit there again, laughing, smiling at me like you’d sucked all the warmth out of the sun, and this time I’d smile at you back until my cheeks hurt because you have come to mean happiness to me.

I’ve loved you for every single year I’d known you, and for every single season, there was no one ever but you. Please believe me, I’d never pursued any relationships, it was only ever you that occupied my heart and thoughts. That woman you saw at the tavern wasn’t someone I was seeing, and I rejected her after, even if this meagre show of loyalty is too little too late. I was a fool that day, I was angry at my feelings, at the way my heart and brain were in complete incoordination that I took her advances to try and hurt you. I didn’t even touch her, she meant nothing to me, I wish I didn’t show up to the tavern that day so then maybe you’d still be in my life.

Nothing fills the vacuum you left behind, my heart. I cried so much the day you left that it felt like I’d never stop crying.

I tried to deny something so wonderful, and when my wish was granted I declared that I want you back. You must think I’m the most selfish man you’ve ever known. I might be. I’m sorry I rejected you and denied my feelings for so long, but please, will you come back and return the colour to my life? I will never take you for granted again.

Please come back, I’m begging you.

Alhaitham

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

Alhaitham walked around the labyrinth, nothing but the moonlight guiding him on his quest to find you. He’s frantic, rushing around from one dead end to another.

And then he finds you, laying there, in the centre, bushes and greenery enveloping you, and you seemed happy to see him, because your cheeks quirked up and eyes crinkled in a smile that he’d been deprived of for long enough to realise it’s as essential as oxygen to him.

He ran to you, breaking you free of your binds, enveloping you in his arms before kissing your lips in reverence as if he worships you. He kisses you, not stopping until he realises that you aren’t responding, and that you’ve gone cold in his arms.

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

Alhaitham stared at the piling documents in front of him, eyes bloodshot and blurry. He’s glad that no one usually approaches him, for he must look like he squabble with the grim reaper last night.

He sighed, hand going to his chest, rubbing it in a vain attempt to soothe the ache there. You didn’t reply to any of his letters. Why would you? He’s truly a piece of work to attempt to contact you after all he’s done to you over the years.

He doesn’t know how long he can go on like this, but he knows for certain that he’s become the villain of his own story. His hubris and pride have pulled him down to a hell that he lives in everyday. He mocked soul mates all his life for travelling for miles to be together, for quitting jobs, getting divorced, all for a fated person. Alhaitham cannot look down on them any more, because if you don’t respond to him soon he will run to Fontaine and grovel until you spare him a single glance, and then he will finally feel like he’s found his Oasis after being stuck in a never ending desert.

It feels like a knife stabbing his chest whenever he thinks of you in another land, married to another man, loving him and being loved by him in a way Alhaitham will never experience. But he brought this on himself, how can he blame you? He drove you into someone else’s arms.

He touched his forehead, feeling somewhat feverish. He’s felt drained the past few weeks, but especially so after the dream he’d last had. His entire body is aching, and his breaths feel shallow, but if he plans to try to go to Fontaine he’d better start working now.

Alhaitham opens the documents on his desk, diligently working on one after the other until his eyes land on the freshest arrivals.

Alhaitham doesn’t fully remember what happened after that, but he remembers reading the words that shattered his entire world before his vision faded to black.

“The student and faculty body is urgently requesting the papers to be processed to allow the body of (y/n) to be transferred to Sumeru to be buried in her homeland after her tragic murder. please…”

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

Alhaitham opened his eyes to an unfamiliar sight, the air felt sanitised and the sheets scratchy, alarming him to abruptly sit up, causing his head to feel light and vision to get hazy again.

A nurse rushed over to him, calming him down and informing him of his condition.

He was fatigued and had a fever, overwork and a mental shock took a toll on him and he passed out. That won’t do, he must get back to work so he can go after (y/n).

(y/n)...

His brain was refusing to process what he read, it must be a sick joke. A fucked up prank. You’re in Fontaine, happy and married, or perhaps still engaged. He hopes you’re still only engaged.

He turns to the nurse who still held a worried look on her face, brown eyes crinkled in worry over a stranger. You’d give him this look sometimes too.

“I’m alright. I’m going home to rest now.” he didn’t.

He went back to the Akademiya, back to his office, to check that this was not reality, only one of the many nightmares that had been haunting him. He wasn’t the most devout man in his life, but for the first time in his life he made a prayer. Please let him have another chance, please don’t make him live this, don’t take her away from me this way.

Fate was cruel.

Alhaitham faced the reality living out before him. He looked down, his wrist trembling, he’s been so afraid to look for the longest time, knowing he undeserving he was of it, but now he needs to, he needs to confirm.

He turned his wrist, the mark on it has lost all colour, it’s now darker than any night Alhaitham had lived.

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

You left this world, he chants in his head, rocking back and forth.

His room looked like a testament of destruction, everything was smashed, papers ripped, books destroyed, everything he faced didn’t survive to tell the tale.

You left him alone in this world.

The house and Sumeru itself never felt too big for one person, but now he feels like he’s drowning amidst the populace, his world never felt duller and more lonely, he faintly remembers a familiar pricking of loneliness when his grandmother passed. The mere prick had transformed into a tidal wave that’s drowning him under, and Alhaitham can’t breath amidst the saltwater.

Did you even read his letters? Did you at least die knowing he loves you?

He holds his pounding head in his hands, crushed at the thought of you dying with the thought that he doesn’t care about you. Did you forgive him as you took your last breath? Or did you despise him tenfold?

You were killed, how could anyone think of hurting you? Since when was the world so cruel?

It’s all Alhaitham’s fault, if he hadn’t pushed you towards that man, you would never have left with him, if only he thought for a second, if only his hubris didn’t cloud his logic.

His heart had died that day, but he couldn’t find it in him to stand up and attend the funeral.

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

“This is the book that brought us together my love, I still remember. If I recall far enough I can even describe the feeling of your fingers brushing against mine.” Alhaitham mutters, making himself comfortable beside you, this is the closest he will get to reading in your embrace, so he might as well make himself comfortable against the harsh slab of rock that has become your home.

“I should have let you have it, or perhaps suggested we read it together? I should have invited you to pupsa cafe that day and introduced you as my soulmate to the owner. I can’t undo that, no longer am I able to agonise about the past, so now this is my attempt of redoing it. I hope you can forgive me.” he said, tracing the soil as tears lined his lashes, he brought you some flowers too, this is his first time bringing you flowers.

“I’ll read the book out to you, alright?” and so Alhaitham flicks the book open.

He reads out until his throat hurts, and the position of the sun changes, until the wind becomes more biting and harsh, and the song of nature becomes louder. He’s got the protection of your scarf, but it pains him even more that your scent has nearly fully faded away.

He flicks the book closed, asking you about it, but of course you can never respond, nor can you even hear him when you're resting in silence six feet under.

Humans are truly curious creatures, Alhaitham can admit he’s no exception. Their actions can never be truly calculated, uncontrolled variables cloud their existence. Most people accept the benefits that come with having a chosen one ordained by the stars, they weep in joy as a fated lover sweeps them under.

Some like Alhaitham do not. They justify the rationale of a lonely existence, disregard a fate carved for them by an unknown force, they refuse to become one with the herd. However, one doesn’t discover true loneliness until they discover what it’s like to bask in the joys of companionship. Such simple acts like drinking coffee together while you both read, the comfort of knowing that you’re always nearby, ready to intervene when you think life is becoming too troublesome for him, the celebratory gifts, the laughs and smiles, they are all so incredibly mundane. But love is not so otherworldly, because if so, then the masses would never get to experience it. Your simple acts of love towards him are things he shall never experience again. The truth, something he always pursued with endless disregard for people’s feelings, is now too bitter for him to accept.

Did Alhaitham’s world always look so grey? Why is loss so hard to comprehend? It might have something to do with the fact that you were never his to lose.

He’s like a child, chasing after a kite that he can never have within his grasp again, nature’s will is too strong.

The people at the Akademiya have moved on, tales and gossip surrounding your death dimmed from gasp-inducing tales to idle chatter, and now time has moved on and you were simply a topic out of season. It makes him mad, the way your friends can so easily laugh without looking at the vacant spot in their groups, how could the world so easily move on when Alhaitham is still left behind, clinging on to an outdated calendar?

His anger has long disappeared though, it left nothing but the bitter sting of regret, regret for what wasn’t and for what now couldn’t be. It took him too long to realise that the bentos dumped in trashes could have been dinners he came home to, made not expertly but with love. That seeing you barefoot in his kitchen after he left his work on the dot was a daydream worth chasing after. He grips the flask in his hand, throat feeling parched for release, mind desperate to finally leave this nightmare behind and rest.

“They say soulmates are binded in every life, their souls marking their bodies in an attempt to find their missing half. Do you think in the next life, we can be together? It’s too cruel to think that this is the end, so I entertain myself with such musings sometimes to comfort myself.”

Too preoccupied and swarmed with thoughts, Alhaitham failed to notice the shadow approaching him until its figure stood in front of him. He lifts his head, taking in the elderly lady who’s gentle countenance and wise wrinkled eyes reminded him so much of his grandmother that he nearly asked for an embrace.

“Are you alright young man, you’ve been in this cold for a while haven’t you? I’m sure your loved one would want you to be happy and warm.'' Her soothing tone nearly made Alhaitham break into sobs, confessing that he’s never known warmth since you took all of it away when you became cold. He became cold too, after all he is your other half.

He smiled, a smile so sincere that it looked off on his usually sombre face, and a hint of warmth seemed to return to him. He fingered the flask in his hand, his eyes hinting the grief bottled up inside of him.

“Don’t worry, I will be, it shouldn’t take too long.”

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

“It’s been several years since the tragedy of the couple in mention, and while a difficult decision, we have decided a few months ago to look at their case to study the phenomenon of soulmates and their correlation to dreaming.” The aged lecturer spoke, voice low and hinting at the deep seriousness of the matter. The hall is silent, many having memories of the two, and while the murder of (y/n) shook many to their core, the unseen bond that you had to the Akademiya’s scribe made the tale truly a tragedy. Others, the more clueless ones who didn’t quite know the two, cast curious glances around. With time, there will be no need to pay homage to the tragedy of the matter, your bond will not be commemorated for how loving or sad it was, but it will be documented for Academic research. In a way, you and Alhaitham will live on and be remembered as a pair, though not the way either of you intended.

“The various notes left behind by the two, Alhaitham’s in particular, took especially long to go through, and some transcriptions had to be salvaged. This study proved useful to the hypothesis that soulmates are more prone to dreaming because of the connection that they share. Many researchers have gone further to assert that it might be that the link between them links their subconscious and the hyper activity across this link stimulates shared dreams. The feelings of the pair experienced during daylight muddled together during their sleep-” the lecturer pauses to take a deep breath, flicking through the lecture notes “-and produced dreams that were shared by the two, and seemed to be directly influenced by both their feelings.” he let that information sink in before resuming.

“For example, as seen in page 34, Alhaitham was avid in documenting anything related to his soulmate, yet it seemed he was completely unaware, as most people wouldn’t be, that the day he dreamt of her having intercourse with someone else was the same day that she in fact did. We can thus somewhat deduce that this dream was influenced by her feelings regarding the-” he paused momentarily, thinking of an appropriate phrasing “-her feelings regarding the act.”

“The dreams they had, interestingly, sometimes reflected their feelings towards each other more honestly than their daylight hours and dialogue. Their bond can never be broken by rejection, it seemed. They still found a way of subconsciously communicating. Their case has become a hot topic of research, especially in regards to soulmates and dreams respectively.”

The lecturer felt somewhat forlorn, knowing that endless lecture notes on the two came at the expense of something they will never get to experience.

302 notes · View notes

alectoperdita · 12 days

Note

For the ficlets request, 'meeting upon the threshold' more in that universe of DSOD Kaiba realizing what the could have had and now he fucked up or just jealous DSOD Kaiba . (hope all is well with you sending all the good internet vibes)

Oh anon, I hope you were ready to receive a full-ass sequel chapter. Hope this satisfies your prompt(s). 🥺 They gave me a lot to think about (lol obviously, based on how much I wrote), and it's driving me more insane with yet more to consider. For now, I yeet this for peace of mind.

Read "Meeting upon the threshold" on AO3

word count: 4281 rating: M tags: post-DSOD, Kaiba being an asshole, one-night stand, open ending, mild sexual content, anal sex, unprotected sex

---

The forbidden fruit of knowledge sat with him—day after day, then week after week, festering with the sickeningly sweet scent of onsetting rot.

He should've discarded it. As soon as Isono, knitted brows visible above the lip of his sunglasses, handed him the dossier he'd requested, he should've ordered it disposed of. Kaiba recognized his employee's confusion, even concern. He even felt a bit of it toward himself. It had been years since he'd shown any interest in someone on the mortal plane who wasn't an active security risk, much less in Yugi's ilk.

Kaiba lost track of Yugi years ago when he retired from dueling.

But that was what made it confusing. Kaiba hadn't requested information on Yugi, but Jounouchi fucking Katsuya.

As much as Kaiba refused to admit it, his meeting with an alternate version of himself, one engaged to Jounouchi, haunted him. He spent more time than warranted replaying the encounter again and again in his head, searching for any hint of disharmony simmering beneath the surface. They might be blissfully happy or lying to themselves in a sham of a relationship. But Kaiba couldn't tell because he didn't know them.

Not anymore than he knew or understood the Jounouchi of his universe, no matter how much dirt Isono and the security team dug up on the man.

The files sat in a drawer in his office, the digital copy in his email. Against his better judgment, he'd pull it up and review the content every few days. After the first week, he practically had it memorized.

By the end of the second week, its luster grew too bright, too deceptively tempting, to ignore.

Call it a capitulation to curiosity; a momentary weakness. Either way, he counted on it finally purging his fixation.

Kaiba was ready to forget the unfortunate detour and move on. Put everything he saw of the other Seto and his fiance and bury it in a mental compartment never to be unearthed again.

Again, Isono demonstrated mute surprise not only because Kaiba left the office early in the evening, but the slight lift of his eyebrows said he recognized the address Kaiba requested to be driven to.

His bodyguard knew better than to say anything, though. If he hadn't made a peep when Mokuba divested from the company and moved to America, why would he start now?

Jounouchi, the other Jounouchi's words rose unbidden in his mind: "You already pushed everyone away, haven't you?"

Kaiba shoved the memory aside.

Traffic was light as they made their way to the old commercial district. Thanks to stubborn neighborhood associations, new development had stalled in this area compared to the rest of the city. The businesses here were family-owned and run by old timers more concerned with nostalgia than progress.

Time was on Kaiba's side. He could wait them out.

Really, he wasn't surprised Jounouchi opened his establishment here. If only so he could be another thorn in his side.

The first time he saw it in Jounouchi's files, he'd laughed. The sound resonated through his office. Never in a million years would Kaiba have pictured Jounouchi as a small business owner, especially given his rather spotty employment history. But a death in the family, and not the one everyone would've guessed, had gifted the man an unexpected windfall.

The restaurant license was legitimate. Kaiba checked twice.

Removed from the city's more vibrant business and entertainment districts, the neighborhood resembled a slice of time crystalized in amber. Its vibes were positively sleepy, and its streets were devoid of pedestrians. Hardly bustling. Kaiba doubted any business in the area qualified as booming.

He sneered. Appropriate—a third-rate restaurant in a deadbeat part of town, run by a deadbeat.

"Stay here," he ordered Isono when they stopped at the curb. "I'll call if I need anything."

Isono nodded. "Understood, Seto-sama."

Jounouchi's little restaurant was located down a narrow side street, on the ground floor of a similarly narrow two-story building with a slatted wooden roof. The place was little more than a hole-in-the-wall, with only enough seating to serve maybe half a dozen people. Perfect for a one-man operation.

Kaiba didn't hesitate before ducking under the entrance curtain. Red and patterned, it was surprisingly traditional.

"Welcome!" rang through the small shop. The lone figure behind the counter dipped into a deep bow. His voice was immediately familiar to Kaiba, almost instantly transporting him back more than a decade.

The shop's proprietor, Jounouchi, straightened. Something jangled against his chest, a long necklace slipping out of his collar. Kaiba's blood pressure spiked before he realized they were dog tags hanging from it.

Not a ring on a chain.

Slowly, Kaiba uncurled his fists, one finger at a time.

Clearly, Jounouchi remembered him too. Of course he did. Kaiba's presence in Domino was not one that could be ignored. His face was frequently plastered on billboards and featured in local and national media. Yet Jounouchi gawked, nonetheless.

It was amusing to watch the myriad of emotions flashing across Jounouchi's face—the shock, the confusion, and finally the outrage. Satisfaction welled inside Kaiba.

"Get lost," barked Jounouchi once he recovered, reaching for a knife before thinking better of it.

Kaiba did not. He crossed the threshold and took a seat at the empty serving counter directly in front of Jounouchi.

Up close, he scrutinized the other man in return. Seeing Jounouchi in real life didn't compare to the covert surveillance shots. The dark bandana around his head kept his blond hair under control. Navy chef's jacket and a white apron; he at least dressed for the job. His face was the same, more or less, yet his jaw cut sharper, the underside of his eyes darker, and his brown eyes less mirthful.

There were faint remnants of his once youthful boyish charms, but he was undeniably older now.

As was Kaiba.

But some things never changed between them.

"Is that any way to greet your customers?" he drawled, a familiar smirk lifting the corner of his lips. It was almost comforting, like slipping into a well-worn sweater.

Jounouchi clenched his jaw, the muscles jumped visibly. "I'm doing the neighborhood a favor and running off the vermin."

Kaiba's gaze darted upward. As he saw from the surveillance photos, Jounouchi indeed boosted an eyebrow piercing, two red studs framing the top and bottom of his left brow. Combined with his pierced earlobes and the short ponytail, he hadn't made a clean break with his delinquent past.

But maybe Jounouchi's lady friends appreciated the vaguely thuggish look. Or his boyfriends, if this universe's Jounouchi had similar tastes as his counterpart.

Seto couldn't be sure. The dossier reported next to nothing about Jounouchi's romantic relationships beyond his current singlehood.

As he met Jounouchi's gaze, his smirk widened, displaying every tooth possible. "Funny, that's what I figured you served in a shitty establishment like this, grilled vermin."

To his surprise, and perhaps even disappointment, Jounouchi didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he calmly gestured to the wooden plaques hanging over him. "I'm sure a smart guy like you can read."

Kaiba scanned the offerings. He didn't frequent establishments like this, as he preferred Western cuisine. The menu boasted the usual assortment of grilled meats, seafood, and vegetables, along with some ready-to-serve appetizers. The rest was a limited alcohol menu. When his gaze darted back to Jounouchi, he folded his hands on the counter and said, "Chef's choice."

For a second, Jounouchi didn't move, barely twitched as he took a shallow breath. Then, his expression steeled itself in preparation to meet Kaiba's unspoken challenge, and he burst into a flurry of movement. For a moment, he disappeared behind another curtain divider and emerged on the other side of the counter with a tray.

"Your otoshi," Jounouchi grumbled when he set a trio of small plates, a sake cup, and pourer down in front of Kaiba. He leveled one last glare before returning behind the counter.

Kaiba tried not to snort. Picking up his chopsticks, he poked at one appetizer, strips of braised burdock root and carrots. It looked correct and smelled fine. The texture crunched as he sank his teeth in, while the flavor was both sweet and savory. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Jounouchi pausing in his other preparations to watch him chew.

Kaiba swallowed without comment, and poured sake into the serving cup. Well aware of Jounouchi's lingering gaze, he threw it back in one gulp.

The sake was nothing special, nothing to write home about, but its crisp taste complemented the braised vegetables' flavor.

Their eyes locked as Kaiba lowered his cup. Jounouchi broke eye contact almost immediately, brows knitted as he concentrated on his knife and cutting board. He wielded the blade with confidence and ease, making straight cuts that sliced cleanly through a small horse mackerel. There was already other food cooking on the grill. Kaiba could smell it from across the counter that separated them.

If anyone walked in on them, an outsider might think they were nothing more than a cook and his sole customer. Despite the casual air Kaiba affected, he watched his every move. Jounouchi wasn't the sort to poison his food. Probably. Jounouchi didn't lower his guard, either, carrying his tension in shoulders and jaws despite his smooth and controlled movements.

The image of the other Jounouchi came to mind unbidden. Kaiba wondered what he did, if he even worked or if he mooched off the other Seto's good grace. It was hard to imagine Jounouchi, any Jounouchi, as a kept man, simply because he shouldn't have that sort of appeal. Compared to the other Jounouchi with his bright eyes and well-fitted clothes, the one native to his home dimension was rougher around the edges. Not just in how he kept his appearance, but also in his mannerisms. Like Kaiba, Jounouchi had also filled out since their teen years, namely in the chest and arms. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he worked his knife and grill.

After several long moments of silence, Kaiba couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "It figures this is the kind of cooking you took to—grilling meat on a stick. Positively caveman."

Jounouchi stiffened. He bristled, red creeping into his cheeks. He bit his tongue and said nothing, though. Instead, he plucked two skewers of seared meat and delicately placed them on a serving plate. He didn't touch the prawn and fish still on the grill.

Balanced on a wooden paddle, Jounouchi presented the dish to him across the counter. "Chicken hearts," he said gruffly.

Kaiba arched an eyebrow. Did Jounouchi mean to imply something by his choice of meat? But he took the plate with a neutral expression and, as much as he hated to admit it, the smell had him salivating.

He'd skipped lunch. It was the only reason the deadbeat's cooking seemed even remotely appetizing.

This time, Jounouchi made no effort to hide his staring, studying Kaiba as he ate.

Whatever Kaiba's usual culinary preferences, well-seasoned and well-cooked meat had universal appeal. The food settled heavy in his belly, warmed by sake. The otoshi and the alcohol had served their purpose, whetting his dormant appetite.

There was nothing to criticize. Not the flavor. Not the presentation. Not without lying outright or, worse, nitpicking. They both knew it, too.

Most infuriatingly, he wanted seconds.

Chair legs screeched as he stood. Without counting, he threw a handful of notes on the counter, easily three or four times what the modest meal was worth. Jounouchi made no moves to stop him, but his eyes drilled into Kaiba's back as he stalked out of the restaurant.

***

He should've thrown the files into the shredder the next day. He didn't look at them again, but their presence weighed upon him.

Later the same week, he ducked under the curtain to enter Jounouchi's robatayaki shop again. Two older diners, neighborhood retirees, were already seated at the far end of the counter, making friendly conversation with Jounouchi as he cooked for them. Jounouchi was nothing but smiles and laughs for them, beaming as if Yugi sat across from him.

Like leaden weight, the mirth dropped almost instantly from his face when he spun to greet Kaiba.

"Welcome," Jounouchi said flatly, drawing curious glances from his current customers.

Ignoring the pricking sensation, Kaiba sat at the opposite end of the counter. Jounouchi took his sweet time before suddenly appearing at his side and serving him a trio of compulsory appetizers and sake, like last time. To add insult to injury, he went straight back to his other diners without even trying to take Kaiba's order.

Frowning, Kaiba picked at the otoshi. Today's selection included chilled mung bean sprouts, kimchi, and potato salad, and the sake was warm. Same as last time, the food was palatable, probably even tasty to more pedestrian taste buds.

Every so often, a burst of laughter disturbed Kaiba, causing him to shoot daggers in Jounouchi's direction before he caught himself and forced his eyes back to his food. By the time the deadbeat acknowledged him again, Kaiba's sake had cooled entirely.

"Whaddaya want?" asked Jounouchi, voice flat and without mincing words.

They both knew he wasn't asking about what Kaiba wanted to eat. What did Kaiba want with Jounouchi? Why was he bothering him again?

Kaiba had no sane answer to give him.

To spite him, he ordered one of every item on the menu. His stomach churned unhappily at the prospect of so much food, but he refused to allow Jounouchi to intimidate him.

The chef boggled at him for a second before snapping out of it. "Your funeral," he said with a shrug before walking away.

Plate after plate, the food kept coming. By the third one, Kaiba felt ready to vomit. Instead, he left the food untouched as it piled up next to him, focusing on the alcohol instead. Time simultaneously rushed past in a torrent and crawled like molasses. It lost all meaning, reminding Kaiba of the limbo he crossed to and from Aaru. The only constant was Jounouchi, hovering right on the edge of his perceptions but otherwise refusing to engage with Kaiba more than strictly necessary.

Not unless Kaiba called to him, and he refused. People tripped over themselves to serve Kaiba, not the other way around.

Eventually, Isono came to investigate when he failed to respond to his texts. Slamming his palms down on the counter, Kaiba knocked over his chair when he shot to his feet and stormed out, leaving Isono to settle the bill.

He swore he'd never go back.

The same night, he dreamed of the heat blasting out of the charcoal grill, the dots of sweat running down Jounouchi's neck when he hunched over the fire, and large hands wrapped around the handle of gleaming knives skimming Kaiba's underbelly.

***

"Seriously, why are you here?" groaned Jounouchi. "Why are you haunting me like an evil spirit?"

Kaiba could ask the same of himself. Why did Jounouchi, first the other Seto's smooth-faced fiance with his soft hair and softer mouth, and now this rough but sure-handed Jounouchi occupy so much of Kaiba's thoughts?

Kaiba had lost count of how many times he'd been a patron of Jounouchi's restaurant. Their interactions may have thawed somewhat, but they were, by no means, friendly. At first Kaiba lingered after closing time for petty reasons, forcing Jounouchi to close and clean around him. Last time, Jounouchi plopped down next to him with a can of beer instead, complaining and insulting Kaiba the entire time. More sake bore Kaiba through the experience. Plus, it was nothing Kaiba hadn't heard before.

Tonight, Jounouchi had deflated. His face was almost haggard under the warm yellow light, nooks and crevices exaggerated by the shadows within them.

Kaiba felt as tired as Jounouchi looked. In the end, they were nothing more than two browbeaten men.

"Well?" Jounouchi demanded when Kaiba didn't respond. "Usually, you can't shut the fuck up, but now nothing? Not a damn peep?"

Kaiba hummed and sipped his sake. His tongue lapped the last drops from the cup. He licked his lips absently, noting how numb his tongue felt.

Jounouchi stared, his eyes as scorching hot as burning coal.

Kaiba did it again, and Jounouchi's eyes narrowed in anger? Suspicion?

Lifting his chin high, he smirked. It was always satisfying to needle the other man. "I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you. But it's certainly not for the pleasure of your sparkling company."

Jounouchi swore and lumbered to his feet. Kaiba watched, a passenger in his own body, as the other man stepped behind him and loomed over him, bracing the counter's edge to cage him in. "You're a shitty liar," he accused, so close Kaiba could smell the malt on his breath. "I dunno exactly why, but you're here because of me."

"You think too highly of yourself. You're a nobody."

Kaiba's head spun. Must be the sake he drank.

Jounouchi didn't back down. Kaiba wondered if tonight might end in a brawl. He could break Jounouchi's nose and give him a taste of the iron Kaiba found in the hearts and gizzards he served up. Jounouchi could turn his knife skills on a target capable of fighting back. And if they could walk away afterward, they could never see each other again.

Warm fingers nudged his chin, tilting his face up to allow Jounouchi to scrutinize him. Up close, his eyes resembled whisky, dark and honeyed. Blond fringes, dark pierced eyebrows, crooked nose, full mouth—when considered as a package, even Kaiba admitted it was not unappealing.

But Kaiba had better tastes in food and style. Better standards for people and the partners he kept in his life than Seto.

Jounouchi was fit enough to fuck, nothing more.

"Is this how you bewitched him?" he snarled, unable to stop himself from canting toward the other man.

Jounouchi blinked, then laughed, incredulously. "I can't believe it. There's no way we share an ex. There's no way that's why you started coming here outta nowhere. You're drunk, Kaiba. Call Isono so he can take you home."

He rolled back on the heels of his feet, preparing to draw away. To leave. To dismiss him.

Fueled by impulse—insanity, Kaiba spun in his seat, chasing him. His hands moved without his command, fingers closing around Jounouchi's chin in an iron grip and yanking him down to him. Their teeth knocked before their lips met. But Kaiba didn't release him, squeezing Jounouchi's jaw hard enough his own ached in sympathy.

A sharp inhale, and Kaiba instinctively tensed. This Jounouchi wouldn't hesitate to lay into him or perhaps gut him for an unwanted advance. But when he unfroze, he didn't shove Kaiba away, instead meeting him head on with surprising fervor. Kaiba hissed, both from the counter now digging into his back and the stinging nip of Jounouchi's bite.

The kiss he stole from the other Jounouchi remained fresh on his mind, as if it happened yesterday; mint-flavored, supple yet soft lips, and a hint of crisp aftershave, faded though it might've been.

Sweat and smoke clung to Jounouchi, and he tasted of beer. His lips were slightly chapped. Fingertips fluttered across Kaiba's cheeks, ears, hair, and neck, never settling on any spot for more than a second before soaring off. His hands were everywhere, roaming over Kaiba's body as if he was entitled to do so.

It made Kaiba light-headed. Good thing he was already sitting.

Heat. Spit. Teeth. The hint of copper on their busted lips and warring tongues. The unforgiving plains, peaks, and valleys of their bodies grinding against each other, like the catastrophic collision between tectonic plates, upending worlds and locking together for minutes that felt like hours and days.

They didn't so much kiss as fight to devour the other.

They broke apart, wild-eyed and chest heaving. They remained physically connected; Jounouchi's hands were now on his hips and Kaiba clasping his strong jawline, absently caressing the rough grain of his late-night stubble. Jounouchi licked his lips, and Kaiba mirrored him, causing the other man's eyes to darken further.

After a beat of hesitation, as if he was waiting for Kaiba to deny him, Jounouchi leaned in for another kiss. It was softer, reminding Kaiba of another mint-flavored one. But he kindled the embers of Kaiba's want as deftly as he fanned the flame in his cooking.

Something roiled deep in his gut, something familiar as he often felt it when he saw Jounouchi these days.

"I'm hungry," Kaiba muttered against the other man's warm mouth. "Why else would I bother coming here?"

They both knew he wasn't referring to food, though.

Jounouchi shivered. "Got it. Let's take this somewhere private."

***

They didn't need to go far. Jounouchi lived right above his humble shop, a fact Kaiba already knew from his background check. He didn't get to see much of it as they stumbled in the dark from one room to the next, hands clawing at each other and mouths biting one another. They fell in a similarly tangled heap into Jounouchi's futon, already spread open on the bedroom floor.

The slob must've never put it away after getting up in the morning.

But in this case, it was convenient. Kaiba didn't want this encounter to last longer than strictly necessary. So he was secretly glad when Jounouchi went down on him without asking. In the dark, he concentrated on the warmth and suction enveloping his cock. He could almost forget, forgive, it was Jounouchi Katsuya blowing him.

Jounouchi turned out to be quite talented at fellatio. Perhaps this was the reason the other Seto wanted to marry his Jounouchi.

A cackle bubbled in his throat; more madness. He swallowed it and slammed into Jounouchi's spasming throat, drawing a choked groan from the other man. The other sounds he made, the slurping and slobbering, were disgusting, but they made Kaiba even harder. They drove him to the brink of madness and back again.

Want, lust, want—they pounded on the back of his skull and throbbed in the base of his spine.

Grabbing hold of Jounouchi's ponytail, he yanked him off his cock. The hair tie came loose, spilling soft strands over Kaiba's fingers. He wove his digits through them and pulled again. Jounouchi moaned, low and wanting, going limp in his grip.

"Degenerate," Kaiba growled while his heart raced in his ears. "Do you want me to fuck you, Jounouchi?"

He felt, rather than saw, Jounouchi nod.

This was a mistake.

The words blared repeatedly in his brain like klaxons, but he ignored them. Just as he ignored his better sense protesting the lack of condoms and Jounouchi's pained grimace as he pushed into his achingly tight hole for the first time. Kaiba was clean, and if Jounouchi dared to give him anything other than an orgasm, he'd destroy him.

"Kaiba, move!" groaned Jounouchi, writhing under him. "C'mon, I ain't gonna break!"

Gritting his teeth, Kaiba shut out the rest of his thoughts and focused on the only thing that mattered at this moment: fucking Jounouchi. There was little tenderness to their coupling, though. No honeyed words or promises exchanged as he imagined their other selves might, their limbs twined together and sharing the same breath.

The pleasure was still real. It was enough. He lost himself in the other man's heat and tightness, gorging himself on his wanton moans and the flavor of his lips and tongue.

Soon, it was over, a flash in the pan, with semen cooling between their clammy stomachs and leaking from Jounouchi's ass when he pulled out.

He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, held it—dreading the change in the world; in himself to come—and released it before he dared to look down.

A diagonal slash of moonlight illuminated Jounouchi's eyelashes, his crooked nose, and his kiss-bruised lips. His eyes were squeezed firmly shut, peaceful if not for the furrow between his brow. As Kaiba counted the rise and fall of Jounouchi's shoulders while he caught his breath, however, nothing stirred within him—no newfound affection blossoming within his ribcage, no epiphany on how any version of himself could care about this man enough to want to marry him. No hate or disgust, none of the previous passion and hunger either.

Everything evaporated. The air between them hung stale and still, reeking of old cigarette smoke and poor decisions.

Instead, the hollowness in his chest was vacuous, and a bone-deep fatigue flooded the empty cavern.

Stupid, idiotic, he scolded himself.

Why would sex with Jounouchi change anything?

Rolling away, Kaiba grabbed the nearby discarded cover and cleaned himself wordlessly. It'd have to do until he got home. He didn't look at Jounouchi while he tucked himself away and fixed his appearance, even if he was within arm's reach.

The floor creaked as he stood, and he bit his tongue to keep from swearing. But Jounouchi didn't shift—never spoke to stop him as he beat a hasty retreat to the exit.

Pausing at the threshold, he glanced backward at the shadowed lump of the half-naked Jounouchi curled on the futon, with his back facing the door. They both knew he was still awake. But what was there left to say to each other? Nothing of consequence. Nothing which changed who they were and weren't to one another, two strangers who were barely acquaintances, hardly lovers. Kaiba showed himself out without a word of goodbye, only a faint snick as the door swung closed behind him.

---

Notes: An otoshi is a "compulsory" appetizer, which mainly means it's not free like you would see in some Western restaurants where they serve you bread and butter or even banchan in Korean meals. They are usually smaller dishes prepared ahead of service, like edamame or kimchi. Customers are billed for the otoshi. It is treated almost like a cover charge to ensure the customer doesn't occupy a seat for a long time after ordering one drink. Jounouchi gave it to Kaiba on purpose, so he's obligated to pay for something even if he doesn't order any food.

While this is basically a second chapter, I wonder if I should publish it on AO3 as a second chapter or as a separate fic. But maybe Meeting upon the threshold is better off without being attached to this sense of non-resolution? I'm curious to hear people's thoughts! <3

#fic: Meeting upon the threshold #yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #kaijou #my fanfiction #replies #anonymous #writing prompts #pray the other ones don't turn out this long #but also don't be surprised if i keep futzing with this and fleshing it a bit more before it's posted to AO3 #but i needed to get something out just so this would stop eating my brain and i could work on other things

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lets-try-some-writing · 11 months

Note

This is very important and I am up at 1 am wildly asking you this

DO BOTS DREAM

And if so

WHAT DO THEY DREAM ABOUT? DO THEY HAVE BIT NIGHTMARES? IS THERE A BOT EQUIVALENT OF THE GO TO CLASS IN YOUR UNDERWEAR NIGHTMARE?

I NEED ANSWERS AND YOU FEEL LIKE THE MOST QUALIFIED EXPERT TO ASK

Mwahah! You came to the right writer for this dear anon! I have enough thoughts on Cybertronian culture and biology to write a novel!

Cybertronians and Recharge Cycles

As a general rule, Cybertronians do not "sleep" or hibernate as organics do. While there are certain medical conditions that replicate the phenomenon to a degree, those are rare, and often temporary. Instead of sleep, Cybertronians have recharge cycles which they use as their way to sort through data, clear their processors of unnecessary sensory information, and run through alerts and protocols that are hyperactive. In short it is a chance for their systems to relax and for their minds to be cleared of stress inducing data that may clutter the processors and make functioning harder.

The frequency of recharge cycles depends entirely on the level of stress a Cybertronian is experiencing. Sparklings recharge frequently so that their processors can go through the data they collect and catalogue or discard it. Younglings recharge less as they know more and have largely set up their processors with all the basic knowledge needed to function, but lots of physical activity can lead to more frequent recharge cycles. In fully developed adults recharge cycles are a rare thing since their processors have adapted and their frames have grown into an equilibrium.

Of course there are also minor recharging cycles that function almost like a nap, and those are taken rather frequently, often a few times in a human week and lasting for up to three hours. In those instances the bot in question shuts down a large portion of their sensory capabilities and higher processing to sort through surface level data and allow their systems to have a brief break. They can still perform basic actions, but they are largely unaware and will be left incredibly groggy if broken from their half recharging state. However true recharge cycles are long and rare things that are often only taken once every few human months, often lasting for a few days at a time. It is polite to allow a recharging bot to remain untouched and to offer them energon when they wake since they will be rather starved for fuel.

The concept of "dreaming" is a bit of a foreign one for Cybertronians as a whole. Most often bots do not "dream" in the human sense. Their processors instead review memory files from all over the course of the time in between recharge cycles. Often the Cybertronian in question does not recall this process as their higher functioning is nearly entirely shut off so their systems can recalibrate. However that does not mean they do not experience anything while recharging. Young sparklings often tend to "dream" in that their processors recreate an event as best as possible based on how the sparkling sees it to try and collect the most important data. The sparkling relives moments, usually small ones while they rest and that helps them to fully absorb what they learn.

Younglings can still have this happen, but more often than not their processors run through probability sequences instead. While recharging their processors use their memories and experiences to recreate possible outcomes to events that already happened. So if a bot were to have been anxious about classes but still have had a reasonable cycle going to them, their processors may conceive the worst case scenario just to test probability. In such an instance they may predict a situation in which their plating is not properly cleaned or where they are without any of their outer armor, instead left bare in their protoform through some inconceivable event. Such predictions are the closest thing they have to "nightmares".

With grown bots, these predictions stop for the most part, especially as they grow older and have more experience and thus less need to play the probability game. At most they will have an odd prediction routine run when they are particularly stressed or going into a new environment. But once again, as soon as they are acquainted with a new environment or situation, their processors will stop such "dreams" because experience makes up for it.

Of course these rules only apply to normal Cybertronians. With the war, recharging properly has become impossible, and that has led to recharging having some unusual consequences.

With shortened recharge cycles or little to none, when a Cybertronian fighting in the war does recharge, it is often not a fun experience. For younglings it is... intense to say the least. Often they can spend a week or more recharging when allowed simply because there is so much to review. Not only that, but their prediction routines run at high paces to try and get through the millions of outcomes, often leaving younglings groggy or even traumatized if they recall the "dreams". Their frames also tend to be so very exhausted from sometimes years of nonstop effort that when they do finally drop, they can be left passing out randomly for weeks afterwards as their processors try to get through whatever it might have been unable to fully review.

For grown Cybertronians, the consequences of little to no recharge come in a variety of forms. For some, they suffer much like younglings and are forced to endure horrendous prediction sequences that leave them struggling against their own minds. Others recall nothing but are left to endure complete and total shutdown, with absolutely no way to wake them until their recharge cycle is complete. They wake far more happy and effective than others, but during that time they are totally exposed and vulnerable, a glaring weakness during war. It certainly doesn't help that these recharge cycles can come upon a bot almost randomly with at most a few minutes before they drop.

Cybertronians who have experienced more trauma than others may find their frames wandering the halls as their minds struggle against all sorts of predictions and scenarios. Their minds are more rested, but they often are left sluggish and unhappy due to how little rest the remainder of their frame received. A scant few who suffer the most may end up unable to recharge properly due to how severe the prediction routines are. Those unfortunate few end up living near entirely off partial recharges and can only endure a day or so of proper recharge before they wake barely rested enough to continue onward.

However its not all doom and gloom.

Cybertronians can have happy "dreams" too. It is a rarer thing, but in response to extreme stress or increadible joy, Cybertronians can pull up old memory files of happier times, or when none are available, create predictions based off of hopes and dreams. Those sorts of "dreams" are rarely remembered, but they have shown to have a soothing effect on a strained mind.

#maccadam #transformers #cybertronian culture #here I am with yet another ramble about the giant robots #I just think they don't sleep in the human sense and thus don't dream that way either #very complicated creatures they are #I love digging into them and applying alien concepts

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kitsune-oji · 8 months

Text

(Beelze-) Bubba

Repost of this little regression fic I wrote... Forever ago, I don't know when. Anyway, here you go

Beel & Regressor! Mc, minor Levi & Mc

Gn! Age Regressor! Mc (they/them)

Word count: 1'456

Warnings/Tags: Age Regression, Carer Beel, bit of babytalk, petname for Mc (cupcake)

"-could fight them alone! You should know we'll always have your back. That's what friends are for! -"

The climax of the show peaked and Mc could see Levi leaning forward so much he almost fell over. Next to them, Beel was munching on the popcorn as slow as possible so Mc could steal some every now and then. It was delicious but they could only eat so much salty popcorn before they needed something to drink, so they longingly gazed over to the glass standing on the little coffee table.

It was too far away for them to grab without crawling off the sofa but their position was so comfortable right now! A pillow behind their back, blanket snuggled up and squished against Beel a bit, they continued to ponder if it was worth it to get the glass or not.

The demon next to them noticed the change in Mc's mood and saw them staring at the coffee table with such concentration that their face scrunched up a bit with a frown and pout. They looked like they were trying to move the glass of apple juice by pure willpower alone. It was quite cute and part of Beel wanted to see if they could actually manage to develop some type of telekinesis with enough time but quickly discarded that thought again. Right now, they needed to drink something.

With that, Beel put the almost empty bowl of popcorn to the side and crawled over to the glass. It was good that he had filled up before movie night so he wouldn't eat all the snacks without giving Mc a chance to get some too. It helped that he didn't feel as hungry with them around as well. Turning around, he handed the apple juice over to the human and took notice of how they gripped it with both hands.

You see, Mc had told the brothers about their age regression two weeks ago with the help of Asmodeus but they had yet to actually regress around any of them, at least as far as Beel knew. Truth was, they were still kind of scared. While the demons had taken well to the explanation, it was something different to actually witness someone regressing and Mc worried that they would find it weird or disgusting after all. If they rejected them while they were in such a vulnerable headspace they knew they wouldn't be able to handle it well.

They had talked about it in more depth with Beelzebub when he expressed interest, so he also knew of some of the signs to look out for which would signal that Mc was regressed or on their way to do so. Meanwhile, the human was overjoyed that they didn't have to leave their comfy nest and still get to quench their thirst. Starved of a caregiver's affection as they were, the simple gesture already tickled the switch to their tiny self and they could feel themself regressing. Sipping on the juice, they took utmost care not to spill anything but a sudden noise from the anime playing made them jump and spill over their hoodie.

It wasn't a lot, fortunately and since the blanket had slid down a bit when they sat up to drink, only the top had been in line of fire. Mc's mouth fell open and their eyes widened as they were looking down at their hoodie, their arms stretched out so they won't spill more. Slowly, they looked up at Beel and promptly shut their mouth before puffing up their cheeks. The expression caught Beel off guard and he couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Levi, who had been too absorbed in the happening on screen to pay them any mind till now, turned to them with a disgruntled look which quickly made way for amusement as well. Beel had quieted down quickly and took the glass from Mc's hands gently to put it back safely on the table. "Silly cupcake", he teased and asked just in case, "Is someone tiny?"

The human still frowned and narrowed their eyes at the glutton. "No!", they denied but their voice gave them away. It was a bit higher pitched and sounded like their tongue was too large or clumsy for their mouth to form clear words. Levi had turned back to the screen after sharing a look with Beel but not before saying," You so are though." His little brother would care for Mc this time so he wouldn't have to worry about that right now.

Not that he didn't want to care for them too but he felt way too insecure with all this still. What if he messed up somehow and Mc got hurt? What if he does something wrong? What should he even do? He'd probably have to talk to his human about that sometime but for now he was more content to just let his brothers take charge and see how they handled a regressed Mc. Thoughts of them maybe not even wanting someone like him to care for them often surfaced as well but he always tried to squish them back down and reassure himself that that wasn't the case. It was something he had discussed with Mc before and he knew he could go to them for reassurances as well and let out all his worries but not right now, while they were small.

So, he focused back on the anime they had been watching and glanced over to his brother and pact holder every now and then. Beel had opened his arms and beckoned Mc to let him carry them over to the bathroom, though not before he got some clothes from their closet. He had tried talking to them and only gotten short and clumsy responses, so he guessed they were around toddler age right now? When asking for their age, they had said "thish many" and held up two fingers.

Keeping this in mind, Beel stuffed a pair of training pants and comfy pj's under his arm while still carrying Mc on his hip. In the bathroom, he sat them on the toilet seat and asked them to raise their arms so he could take of their hoodie and put on the sleeping shirt. Even though he was making sure to always tell them what he was doing and changing their clothes as fast as possible, Beel could see them getting fussy.

Of course they wouldn't like being changed that much but it couldn't really be helped, though the pacifier helped a bit to calm them down. Once done, he peppered their face with kisses and delighted in the giggles it got him in return. "Hey, cupcake. Are you still thirsty?", he asked and opened his arms in response to their grabby hands, holding them close once more. "Uh huh", Mc answered, clinging to him like a koala bear. On the way out of the room however, they saw their stuffie lying on the bed and protested when they couldn't reach it. It was no trouble to get it and Mc happily squished it against themself.

So, they went over to the kitchen and Beel opened the cabinet they had reserved for Mc's baby stuff. He was about to take out a sippy cup when Mc started wriggling in his hold and he had to be careful not to drop them. With an admonishing tone, he tried to tell them off but was interrupted, "No that, wan this! This!"

The demon looked at what Mc was pointing to. It was a sippy cup like the one he wanted to take but the print was different, since had little giraffes on it. "Alright", he agreed easily enough and Mc stopped struggling at once. After filling the cup with apple juice, he handed it over to Mc who happily grabbed the handles and started suckling on the mouthpiece. Beel loved seeing them so happy.

Bouncing them a bit in his arms out of joy, he took them back to the couch. Levi had put on another anime which was more suited for a kid, rated pg 6 but Beel didn't think that would matter too much.

He sat down with Mc in his lap and petted their head gently. Seeing how their stuffie had fallen on their legs, he picked it up and made it look like it was talking to Mc. "Did you forget me?", he asked with an exaggerated voice, going for sad but funny. The little one gasped, almost threw the sippy cup to the side and hugged their stuffie veery tight to their chest. "No no noou!"

Beel chuckled a bit and hugged mc against his chest gently. He could get used to this.

#obey me shall we date #mine #om! swd #race neutral mc #gender neutral reader #gn mc #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #Obey me agere #Fandom agere #Age regression #Writing #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Drabble #Age Regressor reader #fictional caregiver #Fluff #Comfort

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gauloiseblue · 1 month

Text

Second Time The Charm

He comes back to the house the next day, still try to knock on the door, but minutes pass and it's still unopened

He wanted to be a proper guest, who goes into the house through the front door, invited, but in this case, he had no choice but to leave the shovel by the door

That is, until the door suddenly opens, and the owner of the house comes out. She seems surprised to see him, and he can't say the feeling's not mutual

"Oh hello…" She greeted, "Didn't expect you'd come."

"I came to return the shovel." He said, "Thought it'd be very rude of me if I leave without saying thank you."

"Don't worry about it."

At this point, he's at a loss for words. She's dismissive, and doesn't hide her indifference. He'd not fancy her much, if she didn't have pretty eyes

He pretends to look at the trees, before attempting to revive the conversation again, "Those are beautiful, you've taken care of them very well."

"It's not me, I have a gardener."

So that's why

"Private gardener?" He asked, knowing that a commercial one would use their own tools, and not the owner's

"Maybe. He's an amateur." She told him

He raises his brow, "It doesn't look like an amateur work."

"Seems like you thought the word amateur as a beginner." She chuckles, "He's an amateur, someone who does it out of love. He loves the garden, that's why they're beautiful."

He looks at her with interest, she seems to have her way with words

She turns her head to him, "I'm going to the farm, you wanna come?"

With a curiosity in mind, he decides to come along

They both talk for a bit, and he soon learns about her and her activities. She likes vinyl records, because the sound quality is different. She cooks her own food, and she likes to bake. She hates hot weather, and bugs. She also talks about the town folks, and how they all are eccentric in their own way

"You know Callum? He's the town's handyman. He likes to collect scraps, to the point his house is full of things other people discarded. You might find your broken plate there if you look around."

"Really?" He hums, "I've met him a few times, he's a nice fellow. Though Claudia and Flores said I should watch my belongings around him."

She rolls her eyes, "I suggest you to take their word with a grain of salt, especially Flores. She's the one who attempts to take one of my lipsticks because I said I never really wore them."

"Oh?" He said, "What happened then?"

"Nothing, I caught her red handed."

"She apologized?"

"Of course not, I told her to leave before she could embarrass herself further."

At the farm, they're greeted by the owner himself. He's an old man with big arms, though he's not too tall

"I see you bring our newcomer here." He said to her before offering his hand to him, "Name's Harris."

"John." He said, "She didn't bring me here, I was the one who went along."

"Consider yourself lucky. She hates strangers."

"Not true. I already liked you when we we first met, Mr. Harris."

"Aw, drop the honorific, will ya?" He chuckles, "Us cowmen are honest, of course you'd trust me. Can't say the same for other people, especially you." He then looks at him, "Y'look like you've served during a war. Navy?"

"Probably worked for the special force in the army." She said, which immediately set his alarm off

"How did you know?" He said as he smiled, keeping his friendly facade

"Your body said it all." She shrugged, "I've met a lot of people, so I developed an intuition for it."

"Special force? Someone who carried out secret missions?" He whistles, "You have a lot to share. Tell you what, I'll keep it a secret, but you gotta tell me what happened during your service. Not the government secret stuff, of course."

She chuckles, "I suggest you, John, keep your past to yourself. The town folks are very curious, so you better keep it close or they'll hound you for stories."

"Roger that."

"I almost forgot, you came for the milk." The man clicked his fingers, "Come, I'll prepare it for you."

The three of them walk inside the farm, where the occasional moos and smell of manure fill the room. They walk until they reach the small room full of gallons, and he opens one of them

"Did you bring your bottles?" She then hands him the basket, which contains 4 bottles. He begins to fill each bottle with fresh milk, before handing them back

He refuses when she tries to pay him, telling her she's done a lot for him already, and sending her out before she can insist. He then waves them both goodbye, telling them to come over and have a tea sometimes

"He's a nice fellow." He commented after offering himself to hold her basket

"He is. He's too nice in fact, that it worries me sometimes." She replied

"He'll be fine. He has good people around him."

"Hope so."

They stay quiet for a while, before deciding to ask her something. "Say, you've met a lot of people before. Did you meet a lot of people like me too?"

"Never, in fact." She replied, "I've met some people from the army—commander, secretary, almost everyone who work in the office, but never one from the field. That's why I assume you're in a special force."

"That easy?" He chuckles

She nods, "Everyone can do that, it's not hard to guess."

"Well, I disagree." He smiles, "I can't figure you out in the same manner."

"You just have to look closely."

"Won't you be uncomfortable with that?"

"I am." She told him, "But I'm used to it."

"Then I won't do it." He said, "I'm not comfortable with prying into people's life."

She seems amused by his answer, "Lying is a sin."

"Scout's honour."

"Alright, do what you want."

They part ways once they reach her front door. He insisted to bring the milk to the kitchen, but she told him it's not necessary. So they exchange pleasantries before he leaves

Halfway through his home, he realized he hadn't learnt her name at all

《 Prev | Next 》

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader

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erysium · 1 year

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You've talked about writing your comic in a few asks before, I was wondering if you have advice/ resources for artists writing their own comics? I've only ever scene stuff for writers writing for an artist and would love to see what goes into your scripts.

haha I'm a little shy about trying to give advice this, since I feel like I'm a lot weaker at writing than drawing! writing is really stressful & difficult for me.. I would never want to write for someone else, because a lot of my 'writing' process is really just drawing things out, and seeing what works. When I edit my scripts for anyone else to read over, I cut about 2/3rds of what I have written in as notes - stuff that mostly only make sense to me (ie 'referencing this scene in chapter 3,' 'an expression like in that scene in that cool amv' or 'this part inspired by the ending of that movie/book/etc') as well as the 2-3 what-if versions I have for every scene, that I sometimes only finalize/decide between when I'm working on thumbnails and finally seeing how it all flows on the page together. or after someone who's helping me edit takes a look and has thoughts. When I have an idea for a scene, it's also usually in some visual form - so I'll jot down some notes in my story doc, and then sketch out the acting & feeling I'm imagining to see if it feels like anything when it's down on paper. As it sits in my notes for months or years (while I'm working on and reading other stuff,) that moment might change a little in my memory, or develop more..or the point of that scene might feel less clear when i reread it with fresh eyes, and it might get cut.

I guess for overall advice - find a process that works for you! If you're a more visual person, you can find ways to work visuals first, and then trace your steps back to extract the story from those cool visuals, and then figure out how to puzzle piece all those cool visuals & moments together. & ofc, reading a lot, watching a lot of movies, listening to podcasts or anything narrative, is important for developing your voice & priorities & style as a writer, the same way you do as a visual artist. :-)

(This is what i wrote when I was reorganizing the flow of the first 10 pages in this chapter - I have an idea of the conversation's exact wording written down earlier, so I'm just figuring out if the emotional beats makes some sense with the overall tone in mind, sometimes having a good idea that pulls things together better (highlighted in purple so I don't forget it) or greyed out so I can ignore it (but not deleted, so that I remember that i already had that idea & discarded it for a reason) .. also Kye is always 'k' in my notes & Sonya is always 'v' because i don't want to write their names out all the time lol)

#ask #writing #comic #webcomic #is this useful ??#writing is rewriting #comics is writing & rewriting & drawing & rewriting & redrawing & then final art

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marvelstars · 11 months

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youtube

One of the discarded scenes from ROTS which I regret where taken down other than the dialogue in which is made obvious Palpatine uses darkside energy to turn Anakin into Vader was this scene between Anakin and Padmé on Mustafar where Padme tried to kill Anakin with a knife before deciding not to because she still loved him but this was enough for him to think both Padmé and Obi-Wan planned to kill him together. This scene makes a lot of sense for their character arc in the movie.

Before their meeting on Mustafar there had been this growing tension that stayed subtext between them for most of the movie in which Anakin is asked by Palpatine to stay more and more time around him, linking Anakin to his political manouvers towards building the Empire at the same time Padme, Bail and Mon Mothma are developing the beggining stages of the rebel alliance, including developing some links to the separatist side.

There´s a moment, which is in the movie, where Padmé asks Anakin if he can talk to the Chancellor about giving up his war powers and start elections once again, which makes Anakin mad because

1.- That´s not supposed to be something decided between individuals but on the Senate

2.- He´s already been accused by part of the Jedi Council, including Obi-Wan, for being too close to Palpatine and getting benefices from that relationship when Anakin didn´t ask anything of the Chancellor, it was Palpatine decision to ask Anakin be put in the council to "keep him informed" while the Jedi Council accepted the offer to ask Anakin to spy on Palpatine using that opportunity.

Anakin didn´t decide any of that. he simply questioned why he was put on the council without being a master, which later he understands is because they want him to spy on the chancellor.

3.- So now Padmé is also thinking he must have some kind of good relationship with Palpatine which can be used to address the situation at the Senate but in reality Anakin doesn´t have any control over what Palpatine does or doesn´t do.

This is such an interesting tension because while Padme and Obi-Wan show worry over Anakin´s emotional state Palpatine has made sure to isolate them from Anakin by putting doubts not only on Anakin´s mind about them but also on them about Anakin. They start lying to him about those secrets meetings in which Padme´s discussed the creation of the alliance and while she wanted to tell Anakin she knew he was too close to Palpatine and defensive of him to be able to trust him with the information.

What´s tragic was that Anakin agreed Palpatine needed to give up his powers once the war was done, sure he believed Palpatine has been a good Chancellor so far and he agrees the Senate needs to become a more able goverment body to make decisions quicker but this doesn´t mean he believes Palpatine should stay in power indefinitely, this is in part why he was so excited in the movie to end the war because he thought everything would be solved that way, if the war ended he could leave the Jedi Order to built a family with Padme without worrying about Obi-Wan´s well being, his debt with the Jedi Order for their training would be paid, Palpatine would give up his extraordinary political powers which would lead towards the Senate and Padme being less wary of him and Padme and him could be married openly without fear of reprisals.

Anakin´s big tragedy in ROTS for me was that he wanted to help everyone of his loved ones, do what they wanted him to do, including Palpatine, even agaisn´t his better judgment, which only resulted in him being manipulated by Palpatine and distrusted by everybody else.

The problem was that Palpatine started to low key accuse Padme and her coalition of senators of betrayal to the republic(he isn´t wrong but the republic is now a dictatorship) and while Anakin didn´t believe him he also knew they have been holding secret meetings on Padme´s appartment but he decided not to say anything on the matter, much of Anakin´s cooperation with the Chancellor had to do with Anakin trying to disuade Palpatine of the idea Padmé was a traitor and the obvious consequences this would bring for her and their secret family.

So when Anakin was sure Palpatine was the sith, he told the Council who attacked Palpatine, got killed and Anakin tried to stop Master Windu from killing the Chancellor fearing only Palpatine knew how to save Padme of dying, Palpatine kills Windu and Anakin joins the Sith and attacks the Jedi temple, Padme was aware of all of this and planned to kill Anakin herself.

Their hug on Mustafar was about this, that´s why Padmé takes some time for herself before going out of her ship to meet Anakin but when Vaderkin starts ranting about them becoming leaders of the Empire, kill Palpatine and make everything as they wanted it to be, Padmé knew for sure how truly lost in madness Anakin had become, so it makes sense for her to try to kill him but decide not to because she knows Anakin wasn´t fully in control of himself and that Palpatine was in a big way responsible for the state her husband was but also that she and Obi-Wan didn´t notice it until it was far too late.

I honestly think it was a last minute decision by lucasfilm to change cut this scene because even in Stover novel, when Padmé knows Anakin is not with Obi-Wan and her and that he isn´t on the ship, she starts crying, saying sorry over and over again to Anakin before she starts giving birth? Why would she apologize to Anakin after all of this if she didn´t do anything to him? or didn´t plan to do? it doesn´t makes sense, it makes more sense she did plan something but could not bring herself to do it and that´s why she decided to ask him to run away with her because she knew Obi-Wan was coming to kill Anakin and he had a bigger chance than her on actually doing it.

Well, I think this makes for a full story which considers Anakin´s and Padme´s character arcs and I think this would have made a great addition to the tragedy within Revenge of the Sith. This moment confirms Anakin truly did lost both Obi-Wan and Padmé even before their confrontation on Mustafar and how he was way too insane at the moment to notice what was happening and gives Padme´s political arc a nice ending because she´s indeed one of the founders of the rebellion, the mother of Luke and Leia despite the tragedy of losing her husband to Palpatine and the darkside.

So in the end after both Padmé and Obi-Wan tried to kill him, Anakin knows nothing of the evil things he did served for anything, he´s now completely at the mercy of Palpatine, the Republic is lost anyway, nothing of what Padme, him or the Jedi Order did could stop it from becoming an Empire, Padme and their baby are dead and he´s become a Sith now betraying not only his loved ones but himself as well. He´s now completely dominated by the darkside and lost everything and everyone in the process, including Palpatine because he knows now everything in the "friendship" was a lie to make him fall to the darkside.

This covers some plotholes the actual ROTS movie had and completes the tragedy for all characters involved.

#anakin skywalker #padme amidala #obi wan kenobi #Emperor Palpatine #Jedi Order #Revenge of the Sith #George Lucas #Concept art #Rebel Alliance #Youtube #padme naberrie #darth vader #Palpatine

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astrovagrant · 24 days

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fallout show final notes (attempting to keep this Short because i can and will keep going if i'm not mindful)

firstly: people who liked it getting mad at people who didn't and going "eugh fnv fans are so crazy" is silly. there are legitimate grievances to take with the show, which i will do in just a second. i'm sure there ARE fnv hardcore fans out there who are spitting mad because they didn't actually learn one of the most important lessons of fnv (the status quo must be broken continually to improve) - the shady sands bit isn't necessarily strictly bad BECAUSE it changes something fundamental about the ncr. i also don't think the show was going out of its way to spit on fnv as a whole Necessarily - there are too many nods and the fact that house is around at all just adds to that. it's not a todd dick contest, i think they were doing it in good faith, the fact remains that they still didn't do it Good.

so here are the things that i actually didn't like, now that we all got our kneejerk pissed off "group x says y and they're WRONG for that" reactions out of the way. SPOILERS spoilers Spoilers.

dealing with vault tec mysteries isn't actually a bad thing - kind of interesting inherently. however: vault tec AKA a group of Shadowy Elites is Responsible For Everything is so. pointed look at camera.

vault tec bearing sole direct responsibility for bombs dropping (and having that suggested to the board of shadowy elites by a black woman no less) is truly the least interesting progression point for fallout lore as a whole. we're going to ignore the war as a whole and The US Government in favor of corpo responsibility offloading.

lucy's dad being a freezy pop who nuked shady sands landed on a broken ankle because they're serving us Nuke Revelation with a side of Nuke Revelation. and it's all the same company. WOAHHH can it get ANY more interconnected!

i started straight up guffawing at ghoul mom reveal. pleasssseeeeee god

moldaver had so much build up as an interesting character and then got wasted on being the vaguest possible revolutionary who then died way too soon. hello? why is she dead already? what was the fucking point of the flame lady cult? why open this can if you were immediately gonna discard it? why isn't lucy's mom moldaver? CHRIST.

i dislike the attempt at new ghoul lore that just seems ultimately pointless? like ghouls as a concept were not Advanced in any way with this lore. i did like the pause to provide empathy with the feral ghouls, was a nice touch. buuuut Big Drug Energy is nothing to me and loss of discussion of radiation effects on a changed being that now lives in harmony with radiation is a sad loss for fallout as a setting imo.

i don't dislike ghoulman cooper. i think his character Concept is inherently very funny and good for its irony, except they didn't even use the irony at all? the myth of the american cowboy and The Western, the poison of american individualism, the sad reality of bouncing from one big lie (american exceptionalism esp in a time of war) to another one (ads for vault tec aka selling the end of the world) was instead turned into Oh No, My Wife (Black Woman) Is Actually Pretty Evil And I Forsook My Good American Boy Values For Her! and then just being a right bastard in the postwar.

bethesda will never be tired of Privileged Person Is Subjected To Horrible Degenerate Wasteland. lucy's character arc is supposed to be That (But Look, She's Still Good, Because She's A Good Vault Girl!), but it mostly just involves her being actively tormented in various situations. idk i don't think she should have to forgive cooper's humanity or lack thereof just because she's So Nice. character arc implied but not executed in a way i find noteworthy.

maximus. face in hands. he's literally maybe the most interesting character on the entire show. the brotherhood even got portrayed as an Actual fucking cult (which it IS. this is the best thing the show did imo). but for WHAT? for a CHARACTER ARC OR DEVELOPMENT OF ANY KIND? nope! he isn't even given the grace of a full scene where he actively realizes and says out loud or internally like. hey. maybe brotherhood............. is bad for me? and others? he goes back to the bos again and again to take his punishment, but still has to be Part of them for the final encounter. and doesn't even get to go with the "you have nothing to lose but your chains... Of Morality" duo at the end. i just want so much more for him & i feel like he's being squandered by the end of the season. i have 600 more things to say but i'm gonna shut. up

shady sands hot take: the ncr needed to be challenged and have the status quo shifted. by a random pissed off prewar man w too many resources being divorced? not really useful to change the worldstate in a meaningful way, to be honest. nuking the capital of the ncr not inherently bad. there being zero power-seeking (on behalf of other factions) behind it happening, NO factions fighting over the scraps (THE NCR WAS MORE THAN ONE CITY), and everything just smoothing back out into bethesda-preferred shantytowns and empty wastes where society isn't what you really have to care about, just your individual morality, is a big yawn for me. we've been here and we've seen this and it comes off worse in a tv show than a first person rpg.

of course all the survivors of shady sands immediately did a cult *from inside a vault* where they smear nuclear corpse ashes on themselves. and there don't seem to be any other survivors of note, just those ones.

i have many more things to say but let's cap it here.

final notes: so many of the things in the show feel like they were done for setpiecing shock value (can you BELIEVE it's ALL CONNECTED? here's some fun unexpected gore) (i actually don't mind the gore bc it's pretty falloutcore but sometimes it's like. okay we get it, shit's crazy in the wasteland!) rather than for actual coherent 'let's advance the world of fallout and its themes and lore' reasons. i understand that they were doing an external-to-games timeline and kind of a mishmash of elements, hence why i'm not bothering to complain about stuff in the show feeling Too Similar to game events - bc i don't really care about that. i care about it feeling like fallout and doing things actually meaningful with fallout's core themes, and at the end of the day, i don't really think i got that.

#steps off soapbox. farewell friends and lovers

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average-dragon-enjoyer64 · 8 months

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honestly, props to Asagiri and the anime directors. I have pretty bad empathy deficiency bc of the ‘tism, and I find it hard to feel emotions for fictional characters. I’ve only ever felt sad about the dog dying in fiction.

This is the first time I have genuinely been prompted to be sad because of a story. Anything else I’ve felt towards other medias could be shut off easily and was often confused with already existing depressive episodes, but if chapter 110 didn’t hurt me enough, the season 5 episode 10 did.

It goes to show how much meticulousness and raw passion Asagiri and Harukawa put into the story, and the individual developments of each and every character, as well as interweaving their respective identities, both fictional and real, into beautifully crafted relationships between one another. It’s the kind of story that I feel safe to hyperfixate on: an abundance of content, and the little easily missable details that often actually mean something.

While I’m no fan of sadness (as no one is, I should believe), the emotions that I have felt for each character have puzzled even myself - someone who is honest with themselves about their feelings due to it being a matter of safety and necessity rather than preference. Spending hours thinking about not only my current conundrum with the story, but also the way that it makes me feel, are some of the most valuable and precious times in my mind. I have had the privilege of watching characters grow through their trauma and flourish, and they have unwittingly triggered my own personal growth through the smallest of questions, like: Why do I dislike Dazai if he is a fan favourite? Why is he a fan favourite? What led to Kouyou being so sure that darkness can never be cured? Specifically, in that one flashback scene? Why does everyone dismiss Dazai’s suicidal tendencies so easily? Why don’t I like Kunikida? Who is Sigma, really? Nikolai knows much more than he actually expresses; what is he hiding? Literally everything about Fyodor…

While I’ve often seen my own feelings as more of a restriction - a burden that holds myself and others back, this story (and therapy) has brought so much clarity to my struggles. Even hearing some characters say things that have struck a chord with me because I had the same thoughts many years ago, and sometimes I still do.

The sadness that this brought me was a delicate blend of a burning passion and the end of a piano piece - nostalgic, and yet wishing that, hoping that, believing that, it’s still there. A small flicker persistent through thick and thin as the walls around it were burnt and discarded. So small that it is clear that there are only two possibilities: to relight it and allow it to rage as a forest fire, or to quietly quell it, and think of it every now and then, wondering if it was the right decision. Whether the flame will be revived of drenched, one thing is certain; this is a turning point, and the decision must be made immediately. That sense of urgency coupled with wishing one didn’t have to choose brings such a soft and calm ache in the heart. Tired, exhausted even, but still there is the last spark that will surely be extinguished if not supported immediately. A spark of longing, hoping, and dawning understanding.

I can’t even figure out what other people are feeling, let alone a fictional character, especially one as cryptic as Dazai. Still, there is no doubt in my mind that this is definitely his worst case scenario, the last outcome, the result that existed only in his ignored and downtrodden nightmares.

The elaborateness of his emotions are so clearly and yet fully portrayed that I can’t help but admire it, especially because I have so much trouble expressing emotions myself. Whether or not Dazai survives will not hinder the effect that Bungou Stray Dogs has had on me, and I will continue to support it in the future. After all, while I do like Dazai as a character, there is still much more I wish to learn about in more detail. I want to know more about Kouyou, Gin, Verlaine, Tecchou, Teruko, Yosano, Jouno, and the others.

It is cruelly ironic to me, that a series about dead authors with superpowers could comfort me and help me more than anyone around me ever did when I was in my fundamental growing years. Very few characters in Bungou Stray Dogs have confirmed disabilities (aside from some form of trauma), and yet I have been able to grow and understand them, and see them in myself in a way that no one ever could ever do to me thus far in real life.

Also it stopped me from keeping attempting suicide because Dazai did it as well and I did not want to associate myself with him in any way, shape or form. Hey, whatever works.

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piripaprika · 2 years

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heizou and shibari drabble

tags: binding/rope bunny (shibari, duh), throatfucking, soft dom heizou, afab reader, vaginal sex and fingering, marking, slight posessiveness, drabble, not betaread but whatever we ball

~likes and reblogs appreciated!!!<3~, not sfw, word count: 2188

I feel that of all the genshin men heizou is the most likely to be into bindings/shibari. i mean, for fuck's sake, the guy probably uses handcuffs on a daily basis. when your mind wanders from boredom, you start to have ideas...

just imagine it; heizou comes to your shared home irritated by a case that had been in development for weeks now. the detective all but clings to you from the minute he steps through the door, his fingers laced together at your front as he buries his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder.

when heizou gets sad, he tends to crave contact and touch moreso than he already does; he wants his mind to be occupied with anything other than work, and your sweet scent, paired with the delicious katsu you were frying for dinner, were doing wonders for his distress.

as the pair of you sit together on the couch enjoying your meal (the dinner table had long been forsaken and regarded as no more than a courtesy; you’d much rather be in each other’s arms than across a piece of furniture anyways), heizou couldn’t help but frown when his eyes fell to your neck. the love bites he’d left a couple of nights before had begun to fade, and in their wake was left a canvas ready for marking once again. he wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to see you littered in his bites and your skin chafed from bindings you both used every so often. he prided himself in knowing you’d walk around with his signature bites and hickeys under your trousers and shirts or anything you wore. after all, you were as much his for the taking as he was yours to mark and claim.

before you knew it, you were in your shared bedroom. heizou had dug around the wardrobe for the silky red ropes you kept just for these situations. the fabric was cool to the touch; thick enough to hold but not coarse enough to rub your skin raw. it was simply perfect for leaving marks of your endeavors for the morning after he’d fuck you (or when you fucked him; the kinky bastard likes being put in his place every so often).

you stood before him as he began to tie a harness around your midriff; clothes had now long been discarded and you were bare to his hungry eyes and needy body. the silk felt cold but comforting against your sensitive underchest and untouched bare skin, but heizou’s practiced and steady fingers tied you front, back, and center to secure his knots in place. he stuck his slender fingers between each knot to ensure there was enough give for the ropes to be comfortable in spite of the bindings.

his cruel fingers teased over your nipples and offered each a slight pinch before securing the fabric right across them. after your front was done, he moved on to your thighs — as he knelt before you, he made sure to bite at the plush before digging the silk into the skin. you knew better than to hold him in place. no matter how much you wanted him to flick your clit with his tongue from beneath you until he made you scream , you knew patience was a virtue and that tonight was about heizou destressing himself from the tedious nature of his profession.

after offering you sweet kisses to each thigh and your hips as apologies for his teasing, he moved on to your arms. heizou tugged them behind your back and tied double-columns between your bound wrists, holding them in place against your tailbone.

the ropes danced across your body, criss crossing every which way and forming beautiful patterns that only served to light flames behind both of your navels. archons , heizou mused, you must have been a present sent to him from the divine.

after ushering you onto the bed with great urgency, heizou stood before your kneeling form as he divested himself of his uniform. your lover was at arm’s length, cock twitching for your attention, and your heart panged when you tugged at your bindings and realized that you wouldn’t be able to touch him. he read the disappointment in your expression at a moment’s notice, and he smoothed your hair to your forehead before cooing:

“don’t worry; i promise that you’ll still be so good for me even if you can’t touch me tonight.”

his gentle hold guided your expectant lips towards his leaking cockhead before he threaded his fingers into your scalp. your lips parted, expecting his sizable girth to slide between them. in one thrust he bottomed out into your throat, pubic bone snug against your nostrils, tears brimming in your eyes from the surprise and exertion.

a breathy whine slipped past his needy lips as his grip on your hair tightened. heizou all but panted as you swallowed around him, the back of your throat constricting against his ever sensitive tip.

“ ah...fuck...” heizou murmured, bated breath melting into a satisfied sigh. holding you in place, he pulled his hips back slightly before thrusting into your mouth once more. when your windpipe constricted around him, his dick twitched inside your mouth and jumped against your throat. you had half a mind to dig your thumb into your palm to stave off what was left of your gag reflex.

your jaw grew sore from the strain, and drool you hadn’t quite had the opportunity to assimilate, courtesy of heizou’s throatfucking, began to seep past your lips. tears fell from your blurry eyes, and heizou slowed his thrusting (if just for a moment) to bring his thumb to your eyes to wipe your tears away.

“ aww, wouldya look at that? you’re being so good for me...sweet girl...,” he all but panted out as you swallowed around him at the praise.

as the minutes passed, you began to press your tongue against the underside of his dick and twitch around him with more urgency. being used like this felt... nice. knowing that the renowned detective could trust in you to bare the weight that felt heavy on his shoulders warmed your heart, and as heizou’s whines became stuttered groans while his cum seeped down your throat, your eyes flooded to the brim with affection for the pretty man standing at the edge of the mattress.

the taut fingers holding your hair unlaced themselves from your tresses, and heizou’s palm moved forward to caress your cheek. he drummed at the skin as he pulled out from your mouth and you gasped for air, mouth running dry from exertion. the urge to touch him and hold him itched your hands and empty palms. heizou admired the sight beneath him with softening eyes and slumping shoulders before suggesting:

“hey — face down, ass up.”

relieved to finally feel his touch lavish your tied up body, you scooched back on the bed and pressed your face into the cool pillows. heizou’s eager hands ghosted over your skin, pinching it every so often as his palms traced from the back of your thighs up your ass and over your back. he rested his left hand at the fat of your hip, tugging at the silk resting on the skin, as his other hand trailed closer to your neglected, fluttering, cunt.

“ damn,” he whistled, “i’ve barely even touched you and you’re already this wet? you’re so needy . and i thought i was the one looking forward to this...” he trailed off, his grip on your ass tightening as he prodded two digits onto your cunt. his fingers smeared some of your slick over your folds before easing their way inside and fingering you open for his already hardening dick.

heizou hunched over you, then, his hand ghosting over your back as it tugged at your bindings. you squirmed in his hold, your hips bucking back into his teasing fingers. his sneaky digits ghosted over to your front, fiddling with the knots and tender skin, offering it squeezes scratches, and tugs in all of the right places. all the while, he kissed the column of your neck and your earlobes, smirking into the searing skin when you moaned and shook against him.

“heizou...don’t be such a tease —ah~!” you cried out when he curled his fingers into your soft spot.

“ i’m the one being a tease when you’re squirming against me? my dear, i’ll make you eat your words. if you want more, then i’ll give you all i have — let’s see if you’ll call me a tease then.” heizou ghosted a kiss over your cheek before removing his fingers from your cunt and squeezing at your breast harshly. you yelped and tried to jolt backwards, only to feel his hard dick against your rear once more.

his hands came to rest at your hips as he straightened out, your slick staining the fabric decorating them. he held you in place as he thrust his leaking cock into your greedy cunt, and you tightened around him. his dick was thicker than his fingers, and although you’d taken him countless times before, his girth was always a surprise. in an effort to try and squirm away from the strange sensation, you dug your body into the mattress and frayed the knots into your skin.

heizou tightened the grip of one hand on the fat of your hips as his other reached for the rope binding your wrists together; he tugged it hard to keep you in place as he bottomed out, lithe hips pulled flush against yours. his hard v-line stuck out against the fat of your ass, and he sighed in bliss from the heat of your cunt enveloping his aching dick.

he pulled out, tip catching at your fluttering entrance, before thrusting in again in one swift movement. the weight of him bearing down on your hips drove you further into the mattress with a loud sob you hoped to bury into the pillows.

“ah, ah — don’t silence yourself. i want to hear what you have to offer me~” he simpered, thrust slowing when you rolled your eyes and huffed at him.

“you can be such a dick, ‘zou.”

“i know, and you love me anyways.” he laughed, pulling out, leaning against you, before drilling his entire body weight into your hips to bottom out in a harsh thrust. you yelped out, the air all but knocked out of your lungs, as his dick twitched against your sweet spot. your hips would’ve been flush against the mattress if his hold hadn’t tried to keep you in place.

with every calculated thrust and tug on your bindings, you found yourself crawling closer and closer to the sweet release you hadn’t been able to find before. the delicious rub of the bindings against your skin, coupled with heizou’s groans in your ear and his sweet kisses, sparked white-hot heat beneath your belly as gooseflesh prickled your skin. the fine hairs on your body stood on end as your cunt spasmed around his persistent length.

“mmm...’m close , heizou...” you panted out, breath becoming more shallow as you twitched in his hold.

“good, good ,” he hissed, removing his hand from your wrists. he fluttered his fingers over your front before reaching your clit, flicking it with his thumb and forefinger in time with his thrusts. every time he bottomed out inside you, he rubbed his hips against your ass to push against the soft spot that made your insides melt and cheeks flush. he didn’t speed up or slow down; he kept a steady pace that you couldn’t shy away from.

before long, you were crying out his name as your vision went white behind your eyelids. not long after, the telltale twitch of ejaculation nestled itself deep within you as heizou came for the second time of the evening. a white base formed around his dick as your spend mixed with his own. after resting his torso on your back, laying atop you for a while as his dick softened inside of you, he whispered:

“ thank you , babe. you’ve been so good to me, and the idea of being able to spend time with you after days like this lights my heart up.”

in your sleepy stupor, you had half a mind to reply “mmmh...love you too, ‘zou.”

after his breathing steadied, heizou (begrudgingly) pulled out of you. he shifted you to your side so he could untie the knots decorating your body. you were already spent, falling asleep as he undid them, but the sight of your neck and shoulders covered in his marks and the skin branded with the tightness of the ropes almost made his dick stir once more. you looked so pretty marked up as his own.

after ridding you of the fabric, he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom where he ran you both a bath. after the water heated, he set you into the basin and scrubbed you gently, paying extra attention to the marks left behind by the rope to avoid irritating you.

heizou decided, after that night, that the pair of you should use bindings in the bedroom more often. you were each other’s presents simply waiting to be unraveled after all.

do feel free to check my other fics out if you'd like<3 thank you for reading!

#heizou #genshin x reader #genshin smut #heizou x reader #heizou x reader smut #heizou smut

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of-many-fandomss · 1 year

Note

Hiiii

How are ya?

How's 2023 treatin ya so far?

I hope it's goin better than mine lol 😅

Aaanywayz...

I'd do anything for some protective Dean Winchester rn😭

Idk just, like, reader getting hurt/in danger/threatened or something and him just going, like, feral to protect her, yknow?

Because she is the love of his life and he'll do everything in his power to protect her and keep her safe. Idk man i just love that idea.

It could maybe be how they both figure out that they should be together romantically, or it could already be an established relationship. Whichever.

If some of this don't sit right with ya, or none of it🤷‍♀️, then feel free to ignore me, kay?

Hey there! I’m doing good! I hope everything gets better for you soon!! :)

—————

The fury that slammed into Deans body was enough to make a normal person crumble. But Dean wasn’t a normal person, and that fury surged through his body in a way that seemed to make the adrenaline he was feeling from the fight ten times more intense than it was.

A yell of rage left his lips before he had even fully comprehended what he was seeing- you, falling to the ground after being roughly stabbed in the stomach by a vampire that had snuck up on you.

After that, none of them stood a chance.

He let out another scream of anger as he whirled around with his machete raised, successfully decapitating two of them in one go.

More of course came charging at him, but Deans only thought in mind was to get to you, as the vampire sneered down at your quivering body while you tried your best to apply pressure to the wound.

On and on it went, him barely breaking a sweat as he surged through the nest to get to you, all thoughts of self preservation flying out the window. That was what always happened the second anything concerned you.

Sam had been teasing him mercilessly for months now about the feelings Dean had developed towards you. How he no longer felt keen on just staying friends with you, their longtime, badass hunting partner.

He never acted on admitted to his feelings though, knowing what happens in those situations in his line of business. But he could never fully stomp out the small sparks that light up in his chest whenever you smiled at him. Or the tingling feeling he had whenever you accidentally touched his arm. No matter how hard he tried.

When he had finally gotten over to you, he felt like it had been an eternity- when it reality it had been less than two minutes- and he growled at the vampire that was now watching him with wide, panicked eyes, “You son of a bitch!” He cried, swinging the machete and watching with satisfaction as the body and head fell to the ground.

“D-Dean,” Your weak voice finally snapped him out of his thoughts, and he discarded the weapon without a care, immediately, sinking to the ground beside you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He breathed out, moving your shaking hands gently to the side so that he could be the one applying pressure to your stab wound, “Its fine, you’re going to be fine.”

“What happened?” Sam came up behind his brother with wide eyes, having just been tasked with taking care of the other room full of vamps.

“What does it look like?” Dean snapped, not really meaning to be harsh with his brother.

Sam paid him no mind though as he quickly rushed out, “We have to get her to the hospital.”

The eldest Winchester nodded his head once, immediately scooping you up into his arms and began running through the building to get back to the car, Sam right on his heels.

“D-Dean,” You repeated, eyes growing heavier and heavier.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, you’re alright. Just keep those pretty eyes open for me, sweetheart.” He said, gaze dropping to yours quickly before speeding up even more.

“D-Dean, I-“ You coughed violently, sending a sharp pain to the man’s chest at the sound, “I love you, Dean.”

Under any other circumstance, those words would have stopped him dead in his tracks, possibly halting his breathing as well.

“Come on, just stay awake.” He wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on your words, knowing you probably only said them because you thought you weren’t going to make it.

He wasn’t going to let that happen.

You grasped at his arm, forcing him to look at you, “I-I mean it,” You whispered, “I love you and I always have. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Never once sleeping his pace, Dean dipped his head down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, “I love you, I love you too. So damn much, but we can talk about this later. Right now we have to get you to the hospital.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester blurb #supernatural blurb

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asukaskerian · 11 months

Note

How would you say that relationships structure changes in your verse for the future of the world that you’re working in for cherry wine -the normal time of Naruto? Since so many people and clans are gone now because of the wars and just being a ninja in general is dangerous. I figure for civilians they would be less affected and would still be normal sibling sets marrying other sets traditionally. Do people start mostly marring/dating in singles, I’m sure they already exist but as a more general rule, or creating more casual polyamorous style relationships, by having more friendly platonic, partners that are not necessarily blood related like a sibling or cousin but a best friend, that they choose to form a set with, possibly then marrying/dating a another set.

When I was originally trying to pose this question I was only really thinking about marriage but just realized that more modern “dating” as we know it with the system of sets would be a nightmare versus courting.

ohohohoho

long story short : dating as a sibling set is slowly gonna go the way of arranged marriage in general. traditional clans will still push for it and may enforce it or not depending on how well they argued for their clan right when they signed on to be part of the village, but by the time Naruto is born it won't be the law in Konoha and a lot of normal-people cities.

that's because :

1. konoha being a mess of a LOT of different clans and rules had to pick and choose and discard a lot of redundant or contradictory stuff to make a coherent legal code, and since separate clans were losing people by the hundreds due to war and most of them already had a "adopt the survivors into another litter" tradition it wasn't hard to make it into "people can legally adopt in and out of their own litter", even if they probably did have to add a "unless their clan says differently" sub clause due to pressure from the founding members. it's still great for the civilians and the clan-less ninja and contributes to a general loosening of rules even in the more traditional clans.

and the major one: 2. there's no XX, XY business here, every single ABO person in this universe has the same sex chromosomes; the only reason they express different reproductive roles is their hormone balance. it's basically decided in the womb; the first foetus who tips over into reproductiveness one way or another smothers the development of reproductive and secondary sexual characteristics in the other kids, but the building blocks are here, the organs are here, they're just, like, tiny and asleep.

so the SECOND scientists figure out how to fuck with hormonal levels in a safe and consistent way, there will be alphas and omegas who will RUN for the chance to be a beta and not have to shoulder the baby-making and the heats and the specific potentially-oppressive clan rules, and betas who will be overjoyed that they CAN, actually, replace a dead or barren sibling to have the litter's children... or divorce a litter that doesn't get along in two and STILL have a reproductive member each so they're not held hostage by the threat of dying without a family of their own... or just experience something they really really always wanted to be... and there will be siblings who trade off the baby making ability every five years even though they stay a set, or even decide to have several alphas or omegas in a single set or what-have-you.

(i'm sharing this because it's not gonna be in the fic, mind, tobirama won't be the one finding that out, so it's not a spoiler; it's gonna start coming up around minato's generation. orochimaru was working on it probably. XD)

#ABO quest

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dystopicjumpsuit · 11 months

Text

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 6

Molecular Gastronomy

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: Smut is coming next chapter (and so is Maree).

Warnings: fluff; suggestive situations (non-explicit)

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Maree couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper date.

Being dragged by an obnoxious coworker to a tedious gala doesn’t count, she thought.

She went straight home from work and took a long shower, and as she applied her makeup, her hands trembled. Improbably, she was nervous. It didn’t make sense; after all, she’d already spent a few hours snuggling the man. Of course, at the time, she’d been buzzing with liquid courage and adrenaline. Tonight was different. Tonight was a proper date.

Kix’s invitation had taken her by surprise. It had been a difficult day, and learning about the tragic fates of so many clone troopers had taken a visible toll on him. In honesty, it had taken a toll on her as well, even though she did not carry the same emotional burden that the former soldier did. As exhausted as she felt, though, she could not resist the opportunity to spend more time with him.

They did not always see things the same way when they discussed the war, but when they debated, he made excellent points, and she appreciated having her viewpoints challenged. It encouraged her to keep an open mind. When they conversed about other topics, he was beyond charming. He was also one of the most distractingly attractive men she had ever met, which she admitted readily.

She tried on and discarded four separate outfits before she settled on one. Kix had commed her the Holonet page of a trendy new restaurant that had been making waves in the Republic City dining scene, and she had spent an unreasonable amount of time searching the Holonet for images of the restaurant’s patrons in her quest for the perfect ensemble. She had barely finished dressing when she heard the door chime. She applied a quick spritz of perfume and hurried to the door.

Kix waited outside, carrying a small parcel and looking impossibly handsome. He sucked in an audible breath when he saw her.

“You look stunning,” he said. “Even more than usual.”

She beamed. “And you look very handsome. Please come in; I just need to get my things together. That’s a great jacket, by the way; the color suits you.”

“Thanks.” He fiddled with the hem of the garment. “I brought you something.”

He handed her the parcel.

“That is very generous,” she said. “Shall I open it now?”

“If you want,” he said. “It’s nothing fancy, but I thought you might like it.”

She opened the box to find an ancient datapad. Her pulse leapt as she recognized the design.

“Is this Clone-Wars era?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s a standard-issue GAR datapad. I loaded it with the Clone Regulation Manual and a few battle plans developed by clones.”

Maree was stunned. It was an incredibly meaningful gift—a piece of history that she could hold in her hands. She could read the contents as the clones would have seen them. How was it possible that he saw her with such clarity after such a brief amount of time?

“Kix, that is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me,” Maree said sincerely. “Thank you.”

“It isn’t much,” he demurred.

“I disagree,” she said. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“It’s a gift. No need to repay.”

Kix looked a little bashful, and Maree felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to drag him into her bedroom and show him exactly how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

“I’ll—I’ll just put this away and get my bag, then,” she said.

Kix had brought a speeder bike to pick her up, and as she climbed on behind him, Maree sent silent thanks to her past self for deciding to wear trousers instead of one of her usual flowing gowns. Her thighs pressed against his legs, and she slipped her arms around his firm waist. Instantly, she remembered his bruised ribs and loosened her grip.

“Sorry,” she said. “Did I hurt you?”

Before she could withdraw entirely, he grasped her hands and pulled them back around himself, settling them on his lower belly.

“Not even a little bit,” he said.

He reached his hand behind him to wrap around her calf with a light squeeze.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and he maneuvered the speeder into traffic, whizzing through the skylane with effortless precision. She prayed to the Force and any gods who might be listening that her hairstyle would hold. His body was warm and reassuringly solid in front of her, and she leaned closer, resting her cheek on his back. He smelled delicious, and she took a moment to simply enjoy his nearness.

They reached the restaurant all too soon. Kix helped Maree dismount the speeder bike with strong, confident hands, and then laid one gently on her lower back as he guided her into the restaurant. By the gods, he was smooth.

The restaurant was packed, and a number of small groups milled about outside. The crowd was mostly young people on the bleeding edge of fashion, and Maree felt a brief stab of self-consciousness. She stole a glance at Kix. He blended in easily with the beautiful people, and Maree couldn’t help feeling a touch matronly and overdressed by comparison.

Damn, I guess I’m more out of touch than I thought. Just put me in the Archive with the rest of the relics.

Kix led her through the crowd, heedless of the appreciative glances he attracted. He smiled down at her as though she were the only woman in the galaxy, and she felt her doubts melt away under its warmth. They drew to a halt in front of the host station.

“Do you have a reservation?” the droid host asked without preamble.

“Yes. Two for Kix,” he said.

“Follow me, please.”

Inside, the restaurant was dark and overly loud, but the droid led them to a cozy little alcove at the back of the building where the pumping music and the bustle of the restaurant was slightly muffled. Thankfully, it seemed they wouldn’t need to shout to hear each other, but it wasn’t exactly conducive to a relaxed conversation, either.

“I’ve heard a lot about this place, but it’s been booked solid since it opened,” Maree said. “How did you manage to get a reservation?”

Kix shrugged. “I made a call.”

Who exactly is this man? she wondered. Someone for whom last-minute gala tickets and impossible reservations seemed to be everyday occurrences, so mundane as to not even be worth commenting on. Maree wasn’t certain she was entirely comfortable with it, to be honest. She earned a generous salary and enjoyed a comfortable life, but Kix was on an entirely different level. In her experience, the sorts of people who were on that level were generally involved in some of the shadiest enterprises in the galaxy. In fact, Maree was fairly certain she had spotted a notorious weapons dealer and war profiteer as they walked through the restaurant, and she sincerely hoped Kix was not involved with any similar ventures.

They ordered cocktails and settled into a slightly awkward silence as they waited for the first course of the tasting menu to arrive.

“So,” Kix said at last, drawing out the syllable ever so slightly. “Are you from Hosnian Prime originally?”

“No, I’m not really from anywhere originally,” Maree said, grateful that he’d broken the ice.

“How do you mean?” he asked.

“I bounced around a lot when I was a kid. My mothers were fighters in the Rebellion, and then after the battle of Jakku, one of them joined the Rangers of the New Republic, so we went wherever her work took us, mostly around the Outer Rim territories.”

“That must have been hard for a little kid,” Kix said.

“I didn’t mind it,” she said. “I always loved exploring new planets. And thanks to Baba’s service, I had a full scholarship at the University of Coruscant, so I think it was a good experience overall, even if it wasn’t the most stable upbringing. What about you?”

“Me?” he sounded taken aback.

“Yeah, where are you from?”

“Uh, I guess I bounced around a lot, too. I never had any parents, but I had my brothers.” His expression clouded. “They’re gone now, though.”

Open mouth, insert foot. Way to ruin the mood, Finnall.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I seem to keep stirring up painful memories for you.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “You couldn’t have known. But I’d rather talk about you. What made you decide to study military history?”

“My other mother, Eema,” she said. “While Baba was out Rangering, Eema would take me around to explore the planets where we were stationed. She would take me to all the historically significant locations in each system, and a lot of them happened to be the sites of old battles. I had so many questions about why they were fighting and how the battle unfolded. Whenever she didn’t have the answers, she would set me up on the Holonet to research it for myself. Sometimes, systems would get dragged into a conflict through no choice of their own. Like Saleucami in the Clone Wars. I actually wrote my doctoral thesis on the first battle of Saleucami.”

“I was there,” Kix said.

“Saleucami?” she asked.

“Uh, yes,” he said. “Recently. On business.”

He looked uncomfortable, and once again, Maree wondered exactly what kind of “asset retrieval” he was involved in.

“I’m glad to see the population is recovering from the Imperial occupation,” she said. “That system has seen enough conflict to last several lifetimes.”

“Haven’t they all?” he asked.

“Good point,” she acknowledged.

“Why the first battle of Saleucami?” he asked. “I thought it was a fairly minor skirmish.”

“It’s a classic case of bad luck,” she said. “The planet itself should never have seen any action. The battle took place in space, and there was nothing of interest to either the Republic or the CIS on the planet. But when Grievous retreated to the planet’s surface, he brought the fighting with him. And that led to a chain reaction of events that culminated in the Siege of Saleucami, which turned into one of the longest campaigns of the entire war. Even after the war, the occupation of the planet continued under the Empire.”

Kix shook his head thoughtfully. “So a whole planet suffered for years because of a conflict that they never chose to be a part of.”

“It happens in war,” she said. “It’s not so different from the clones. They never had a choice, either.”

“At least the clones could defend themselves,” Kix said. “The people of Saleucami never stood a chance.”

“It’s more of a parallel than an analogy,” she admitted.

Just then, a service droid approached the table with the first course, to Maree’s relief. She hadn’t planned on discussing death and destruction all night, and the interruption provided a perfect opportunity to steer the conversation in a less martial direction. The droid set the plates in front of them. It was a single bite-sized gelatinous bubble filled with smoke and served on an ornate spoon. Tasty, but insubstantial, and Maree realized with foreboding that she should have eaten a snack before Kix picked her up.

Kix looked comically disappointed.

“Are all the courses going to be this tiny?” he asked.

Maree laughed. “Hopefully not! At least there are lots of courses.”

“So,” she asked, hoping to distract herself from her gnawing hunger. “Are you enjoying your visit to Hosnian Prime?”

Kix was starting to regret his choice of restaurant. He hadn’t done any research before he called Reveth and asked her to slice the reservation system of the best restaurant in Republic City and get him a table for two.

“Does this mean you’re no longer available for casual hookups?” she had teased him. “It means I’m hungry,” he’d said. “Got anywhere in mind?” “Somewhere you’d take someone you want to impress,” he had said. “I saw a Holonet article about a place called Trilogy that’s supposed to be the hottest new restaurant in the Core,” she’d suggested. “Every rich scughole in the capital is on their client list.” “Sounds perfect.” “I’m going to have to steal somebody else’s reservation, though,” she had warned. “Well, we are pirates after all,” he had replied.

The restaurant was fancier than anything he’d ever seen, and by the time they were on the sixth course of the evening, he was pretty sure that he’d had only gotten three bites of food total. For the love of the Force, one “course” had just been some fragrant air trapped under a glass dome. The server droid had removed the cloche with a flourish and encouraged them to “breathe in the essence of meiloorun.” He was beginning to suspect that the entire operation was either a scam or an elaborate prank. Maree seemed to be entirely at her ease, and he wondered if this was normal for her.

When he had picked her up from her home, he’d been stunned by how classically glamorous and elegant she had looked. She reminded him of some of the senators he’d seen during the wars, except her clothing didn’t seem quite as stiff and formal as theirs had been. She wore it with an ease that made him think she must have lived her entire life in privilege, so he was surprised to learn about her humble childhood. He wondered if he would ever be able to learn that kind of confidence.

Maybe, if I don’t starve to death before dinner is over, he thought grumpily. Who knew “molecular gastronomy” referred to the portion sizes?

Perhaps the entire night had been a bad idea. He’d slipped and nearly revealed that he’d been at the battle of Saleucami, but he was fairly sure she’d believed his cover story about visiting on business. It occurred to him that he should just tell her the truth about his identity. She had given him no reason to distrust her, and yet he hesitated. If she knew he was a clone, would she change her opinion of him? It was a risk he was not willing to take—not yet. The conversation had been going well, he thought. Maree became animated and eloquent when she discussed her research, and Kix enjoyed hearing her perspective. But then the service droid had arrived with that pitiful excuse for a first course, and he had started to realize that this restaurant was not his kind of place, to put it mildly.

Even worse, the conversation had become trivial and stilted. As much as he appreciated Maree’s passionate intensity when she talked about the Clone Wars, he had privately hoped they could reestablish their effortless camaraderie from the Botanical Archive. Unfortunately, the way the evening was headed, things were getting more awkward instead of less.

They made uncomfortable small talk about the weather (unseasonably cold), how he liked Hosnian Prime (it was fine), and what kind of music he liked (oldies, apparently). As the so-called meal dragged on, he watched her retreat behind the mask of bland cordiality that she’d worn while she spoke to the library donors at the gala.

This was a disaster. He was losing her before he’d ever gotten a chance to know her better, and he worried that if he couldn’t salvage the evening, the ensuing tension might affect their working relationship. He shuddered to imagine spending days in the archive on Coruscant discussing the weather. With Coruscant’s planetary climate control system, it would be an even drier conversation. Perhaps the date had been a bad idea, after all.

The eighth course arrived, and Maree eyed it with an unreadable expression. After the droid departed the table yet again, Maree dropped her fork abruptly.

“This is weird,” she said.

“What is weird?” Kix asked.

“This—all of this. I can barely hear you over the music, and if I don’t get some real food soon, I am going to fucking stab somebody. I’m sorry; I hate to complain—”

“No, I agree, it’s the worst,” Kix interrupted. “I thought you were enjoying it.”

“Not so much,” she said. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Gods, yes,” he exclaimed. “Do you know of any decent fast food nearby?”

“Yes, and I know the perfect place to eat it,” she said. “Let’s go.”

He dropped enough credits on the table to cover their bill, and then he guided her quickly out of the restaurant and back to his speeder bike.

Within fifteen minutes, they were walking toward the entrance of the hanging gardens as Maree took an enormous bite of a bantha burger.

“Oh, thank gods,” she mumbled around the food. “I thought I was going to die.”

“I can’t believe people pay actual credits for that,” Kix agreed as he popped a fritzle fry into his mouth. “How is that considered the best restaurant in the city?”

“I’m guessing nobody wants to go against the hype for fear of seeming like they aren’t sophisticated enough to appreciate true artistry,” she said.

“Like ‘The Chancellor’s New Clothes,’” Kix said.

“Exactly! Luckily, there are plenty of fine dining restaurants in Republic City that don’t leave their customers hungrier at the end of the meal than when they arrived. Maybe we should try one of those next time,” she said.

Kix nearly stumbled over his own feet. Next time! She was still willing for there to be a next time!

“You’re the local; maybe you should pick the next one,” he said, playing it cool. “Do you go to restaurants like that often?”

“Honestly? No. Left to my own devices, I’ll usually go to some hole-in-the-wall place in Rylothtown or Little Felucia. If we stick to my favorites, we’re going to end up eating takeout on my sofa and drinking wine straight from the bottle,” she laughed.

“Sounds perfect,” he said sincerely.

She bumped his shoulder companionably, and he held out the bag of fritzle fries in a silent offer. She snagged a fry and munched on it with a happy sigh.

“How’s your burger?” she asked.

“I’ll be honest: I was so hungry that an expired ration bar would have tasted delicious,” Kix admitted.

“Same,” Maree said. “The Archive interns claim that I get uncharacteristically aggressive when I’m hungry. One of them once told me that she always brings a snack with her when she visits my office, just in case she needs to throw it to distract me while she retreats to a safe distance.”

“I would never have guessed,” Kix said. “You seemed so calm right up until the moment when you threatened to stab me.”

“I wasn’t going to stab you specifically,” Maree objected. “Just someone. Anyone who was convenient.”

“And I just happened to be closest to you,” Kix laughed.

“Luckily, you distracted me with a bantha burger,” Maree said.

They meandered down the winding paths, finishing their meal and chatting amiably. It was too early in the season for many of the plants to bloom, and so they encountered few other beings as they strolled through the gardens. As the last hints of daylight had faded, the landscape lights came on automatically, bathing the garden in a soft, moody luminescence.

“This is the second time I’ve brought you to a garden in the middle of the night,” Maree said. “I’ll have to think of something more creative in the future."

“I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed that I won’t need to carry you home this time,” Kix teased.

“Oh?” she asked in a deceptively innocent tone. “Were you hoping to give me a ride?”

Kix chuckled. “Any time you want, doc.”

"It’s a pity the garden isn’t really blooming yet. In a few more weeks, it will be glorious.”

“I don’t think I can stay that long,” he said. “I need to get back to work. But maybe someday you can show it to me.”

“I would love to,” she said. “Will you be leaving directly from Coruscant?”

“That depends on whether we find what I need in the archive,” he said.

"I doubt it will take more than a day or two to find the records," she said. “Hopefully we’ll find the answers you’re looking for. If we can’t find records there, I am uncertain that we would be able to find them at all. But either way, our research should be concluded within a few days.”

Kix felt an unexpected pang of disappointment at the thought. As desperate as he was to find the answers he needed, he was not ready for his time with her to come to an end. Talking with Maree felt natural and easy in a way that Kix had not experienced since he’d been pulled out of cryostasis.

He’d been displaced from his own time, adrift in a galaxy that had forgotten him. He often felt so detached, so alone even when he was surrounded by the Meson Martinet crew, that he thought it wasn’t worth the effort to try to connect with anyone. With Maree, he felt like fate or the Force had given him a tether to something solid and dependable. Someone who cared about him and his brothers and didn’t just consider the clones to be ancient history. Someone who would understand.

He stole a glance at her. She was so lovely. In the soft light, the curves of her face were achingly perfect–almost too perfect to touch. She looked like a work of art, and he was torn between wanting to simply stare and admire her beauty and a perverse desire to know what she would look like with her hair loose and wild and her lipstick smudged from passion.

Impulsively, he brushed his fingers down the line of her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into the contact. He traced her lips, feeling the warmth of her exhale, and his free hand stole up to cradle her head. He slid his fingers into her hair, feeling for the pins that held it in place, and one by one, he removed them, watching as the soft strands tumbled down her back and framed her face. He stroked down the length of her hair, feeling the softness as it slipped through his fingers. Her hands drifted up and settled on his chest, trailing toward his shoulders. She had opened her eyes and was watching him, her head tilted up to meet his gaze, pupils dilated wide. They stood so close to each other that he could feel her shallow breath on his skin, close enough that he could smell the warm, sweet perfume he recognized from the library garden.

For a moment, they simply stood unmoving, sharing breaths, locked in each other’s orbit. And then Maree slid one of her hands up Kix’s chest to wrap around the back of his neck and tug him softly toward her. He dropped his forehead to rest on hers. Everything around him seemed to crystallize, and he knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he whispered.

---

Chapter 7

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