#(this is to say he hates it otherwise and so nobody should trust an container of glitter)

[godzexperiment]

nix would collect glitter from through the ages; mixed together in an vial

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 2 of 2

Part 1 is here:

She never knew it would hurt this much when the person she loves is right in front of her, but she can't reach out and touch him; when she is still her, he is still him, but everything else has changed, like an invisible lever in an old theatre changing the scenery in the background, bringing them both to the part of the play where they are hopelessly lost.

[[MORE]]

All it took was one single moment, one single decision, and everything feels irrevocably broken now. It makes her contemplate on the true nature of relationships, how fragile they are, and how easy it is to shatter them- and her.

The smoke is slowly clearing, and all that seems to be left is a man who is doing his best to keep his distance from her, physically and emotionally.

She can tell from the way he stands with his arms crossed, or his fists clenced when his hands are by his side, that he really doesn't want to hold her hand. How can something so simple as the touch of his fingers be so vital to her existence that it feels like something has been ripped out from inside her?

She wants to reach out and touch him, but she is scared that if he pulls away outright, any hope of reconciliation that she still has left will shatter into pieces.

And she really needs this hope. It's the only thing she still has left. It's the only thing that keeps her going.

---

He looks like a man with a mission.

They spent quite a long time together, running from the TVA, running towards the citadel at the end of time, hoping to achieve their goal of bringing down the one behind the curtains.

But that was her mission, and he was there for her. She was the one behind the wheels, he was the one keeping the sails afloat.

Now it's different. Now he has a defined goal, a glorious purpose.

She's seeing him in a whole new light now, and not just because he has switched to Asgardian leather and metal armors.

As far as she is concerned, she is better off doing it all alone. One woman army, nobody to get in her way, nobody to screw up her plans. Nobody to blame her if it all goes to shit.

Or so it was, until two months ago, when Mobius decided to enlist her help in fixing the multiversal madness.

She has never really worked with people before, and it's weird, to say the least. She never considered herself a team player, but she is finding herself hating the idea less and less lately.

And she swears it has nothing to do with him. Not the fact that they are working together, and seeing his face first thing in the morning brings her a sense of calm that she quite can't explain. Or the fact that their rooms are next to each other and it makes her feel secure enough to finally get some rest at nights. Or that this whole arrangement has kept them on talking terms, when they had gone their own separate ways otherwise.

Nothing to do with that at all.

---

Humans are stupid, and the biggest evidence of this is how they decided that two extremely powerful Gods skilled at magic, enchantment, and defeating an evil extra dimensional cloud that swallows everything it touches, should be delegated to the role of research. "You're clever. You're good at reading people. You can put yourselves in the shoes of the bad guys, no offense", they said, but really, what they meant was, "We can't trust you out in the field much." She knows it, he knows it. She just doesn't know why he's complying.

That's how they find themselves researching every single day.

She likes to think he's not the only reason why she's studying in the library instead of in the comfort of her room, but that'd be a lie.

At first, he chooses to sit at a separate table. But she keeps going over to his to "get his opinion" on something in the file she's reading, and finally, he gives in. Their current arrangement consists of him sitting in the chair in front of her, to the left, prim and proper, while she hoists her feet up on the table.

He falls asleep on the desk one night, face smacked against a file, the tiniest bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. It would be a hilarious sight, if her heart wasn't feeling what she can only describe as longing.

They should probably talk about it, like mature adults, but neither of them know how to do that.

All she can do right now is gather the courage to run her fingers through his hair. The touch is hesitant at first, as if one wrong move would make him wake up and push her back to square one. Slowly, she relaxes, letting her fingers dance on his scalp.

He stirs in his sleep. "Please Sif. I'm sorry. Don't cut off my glorious locks, please."

Now this is a story she must hear when things are better.

If things are better.

---

Doctor Strange joins them very briefly, very rarely, but the tension between him and Loki is hard to miss. It's worse than the current situation with her, and that's saying something.

"You don't really like Stephen, do you?"

Something inside him seems to shift, but he masks it behind a non-chalant look immediately and just arches an eyebrow at her. "He's Stephen now, is he?"

"Well, that is his name." She shrugs. "What do you call him?"

"Strange", he spits the word out with an amount of irritation that indicates there definitely is a story there. "That is his name", he mimics.

She can't help the smirk that spreads across her lips. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing", he lies, ignoring the horrifying flashbacks of thirty minutes of endless falling. Not a single soul must ever know a mere human got the best of him. "What can he do to me? I'm a God among those mortals. He just irks me because he is so pompous, and arrogant, and he ceaselessly uses magic to toy with others."

She pretends to think deeply. "Now where have I seen that before?"

He scoffs. "You mock me, but I am nothing like him. For one, I am not rude."

"He seems fine to me", she declares decisively.

It's the first time in months that he gives her a cheeky grin. "That's because you're rude too."

---

They are still just containing the threats to their world, instead of finding a way to fortify the barriers between worlds and stop the threats from coming.

"Shouldn't we have a plan to seal off the other worlds from ours?" She asks him one day.

"They are working on it." He tells her, and then with a look of worry, adds, "I hope."

There are debates on what to do at the Avengers tower and at the TVA. Nobody seems to agree on what the best course of action is, but everyone seems to be following the general instructions of Doctor Strange.

During one such meeting, a Minuteman makes the mistake of voicing out loud how she wondered if things would be better if they were running according to their old boss's plans.

Sylvie feels the guilt wash over her once more.

"No", Loki tells them all firmly. The determination in his voice takes her completely by surprise. "Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. The degree is arbitrary. The definition’s blurred." She catches him steal a glance at her direction. "We couldn't have left a dictator in charge just because it's convenient. Listen, I'm the bad guy. I've done horrible, unspeakable things. I thought humans needed to be ruled. I wanted to rule. But even I know that it's not right to take away a person's life completely. These are innocent people. You are innocent people. You have families back home, parents, children", a pause and a softening of his features, "-love. A whole past, a whole future. That man had no right to take it away from you."

His powers of persuasion are foreign to her, and it's mesmerizing to watch. Her enchantments cannot hold a candle to how he is able to just talk people into doing what he wants, thinking what he thinks, seeing what he sees.

"He who remains had a plan. One, singular plan, from one, singular man." There is absolute conviction in his voice. "It's not the only way. We'll find another way. A better way."

She has never known what it is like to have someone see you for who you are- broken and flawed, and defend you- even your well-intentioned actions that yielded different results than what you expected and hurt them in the process. She suspects it has been the same for him, a lifetime of not having anyone have his back.

The warm feeling inside her is brand new. What is the name of this? Comfort? Relief?

Happiness?

---

This will be their first time out in the field in a long time, and she feels a little sick to the stomach.

He notices. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice tugs at her heartstrings. She nods. She has faced way worse, she shouldn't be so nervous about this, but she is. "I've never done this before."

"We can always just kill him and blame it on the Chitauris", he suggests with a serious face.

"I heard that", Peter yells from the other room, where he is doing whatever it is that teenagers do to prepare for battle.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe we're babysitting."

"I've done this before", he assures her, and it surprises her to picture him being entrusted with such a serious task. "The trick is to conjure up illusions that keep them distracted enough to not cry."

She laughs. "You're thinking of infants. This one is a little older."

"I'm over a thousand years old, Sylvie. They're all infants to me."

Peter joins them, mask covering his face so that he doesn't reveal his identity. "So what do I call you? Loki and Loki? That's confusing. How about Loki and Lady Loki? Or is that offensive? I'm not suggesting women are inferior, because they're absolutely not..."

"Does he come with an off switch?" She whispers in horror as Peter rambles on.

Loki grins. With one wave of his hand and a flash of green, Peter's own webbing shoots out and seals his mouth shut.

---

Things are fine but not fine at the same time. He's right there beside her, but not there at all. They have their banters, they have their stolen glances, but they haven't had a meaningful conversation since that first day when she got back. She's been putting it off for a long time, but she knows they really do need to have the talk.

She corners him in his room one evening while he's tinkering with a temporal collar. She takes a seat in the chair next to his bed and rests her hand on the table, leaning her head against her palm, before switching position and crossing her arms and legs. Everything about her posture screams uneasiness. If he notices- he probably does- he doesn't say anything.

"You defended me that day."

He briefly looks up from the task at hand and gives her a soft smile. "Of course."

She blinks. "I don't understand." Her hands involuntary rise up to rub her temples. "If you can justify my actions to them, then how can you still be mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you", he says without missing a beat.

"Rubbish", her words come out angrier than she intended. This frustration is the result of the months of status quo they have had. She has to know now, one way or the other. "You're distant. You're guarded", she accuses. Then her voice breaks, as she feels a part of her break all over again with her next words. "You don't hold my hand. Why? Tell me."

He abandons the collar and focuses his full attention on her. Staring straight into her eyes, he answers her. "You know why."

"I wouldn't be asking if I did. Look, if it's because I chose the mission over you-"

"-Of course it's not that." He says decisively. Then a sad smile clouds his face. It's the same look he had when she accused him of conning her to gain the throne. "Do you think I'm the type of man who would want a woman to abandon her life-long ambitions just because she has met someone?"

She knows he isn't. But it still doesn't answer why he is so cross with her. "What is it then?"

He pauses for a moment, trying to decide whether he wants to bare his soul out to her once more or not. There are two ways he can go from here- choose to not let her in again and save himself from the hurt, or trust her again and open himself up to potential pain.

Who is he kidding? Pushing her away- keeping her away- doesn't hurt any less.

There were a thousand things that had to go wrong to bring two Lokis from two universes together. A connection like that, it doesn't just happen.

And it doesn't just go away. The pain is constant, it's a part of him, pounding like a second heart every second he has to stop himself from reaching out for her hand.

This has to come to an end.

He takes in a deep breath, bracing himself. "You didn't have to send me away, Sylvie. I wanted to stop you from making the same mistakes I did. But in the end, I didn't care what you chose. I just wanted us to do it together."

She never even imagined this could be the reason for his hurt. All these months spent thinking he hates her for her choices, and now it turns out he is hurt simply because she chose to do it alone? "I'm sorry." She says sincerely. "I just wanted you to be safe."

"And I just wanted to be there with you till the end." He confesses. His eyes shimmer with the emotions he has kept bottled in for so long. "You go, I go."

She doesn't know what to say to that. She has never been good at articulating her feelings. Tears stream down her cheeks at the realisation that even after everything, he is still there for her.

She didn't cry even back at Lamentis when they thought they were going to die. She doesn't let anyone see her cry when she is sad or scared. That's all she has known her whole life. She's used to it by now.

This is new. These are tears of relief. Comfort.

Happiness.

Tentatively, she crosses over to the bed and sits by his side.

It's quiet for a few minutes. But unlike the months of tension so thick she could cut it into splices with her daggers, this is comfortable silence. The kind they had before it all went wrong.

"Did you even miss me?" He whispers.

"What kind of silly question is that? Of course I did." Her shaking hands grab his, and oh how she missed this.

He intertwines their fingers. His eyes draw closed. Bliss. That's the only word for this feeling.

He opens his eyes again and studies her. She's staring back at him, teary-eyed, but with a hopeful smile. "Really? Because you have a really unique way of showing it. You didn't even come looking for me."

"I didn't know how to face you", she tells him honestly. No tricks, no enchantment, no treachery. Not with him. "I didn't know if you even wanted to see me." Her voice grows quieter, dropping to a timbre that perfectly encapsulates her deepest fear. "I thought you hated me."

"Hate you?" He is shocked that she thinks that is even possible, specially after seeing him these last few months. "Sylvie, I'm working with the Avengers. The Avengers. Do you know how much I hate them? They are my nemesis. They're self-righteous, condescending, and so completely dull. Every second with them makes me want to rip their hearts out. Why do you think I'm here with them?"

She thinks she knows. But she needs to hear it anyway.

"It's because of you." He lays it all out on the table. All cards on deck, win or lose. "You've been running away. I have been the one who has been here, trying to hold down the fort, working to fix everything. Because that is what one does when one loves-"

Shit. The word slips out before he realises it.

Their eyes go wide in unison.

"Sylvie, I-"

"-Don't you dare take it back now." She warns him. "I-" She doesn't know how to say it either. They make such a great pair, both equally daft at saying how they feel, like they are teenagers, not Gods who have lived for centuries. "I've been running because I didn't think I could bear the burden of knowing I found you and then I lost you. I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever."

He kisses the back of her hand, before letting it go. He cups her face, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I don't want to lose you either."

She leans in closer, until their foreheads touch. She can feel his breath on her face, warm and soft. That is exactly how she feels inside. "You won't", she promises. "You go, I go."

---

(Quote on Lesser Evil from The Witcher. Thanks for reading!!)

[tchallasbabymama]

All For Us Chapter 5

Hey y’all, hope you enjoy the chapter a day early! Check out my masterlist to catch up on this story or read my other ones. And, as always, reblogs and comments are more than welcome 🥰

Word Count: 5,471

CW: Mention of self-harm

Erik fidgeted in his chair as he waited for his family to walk through the door. He had seen each of them individually at least once, Shuri being the only one who never came back, but something about seeing them all together had him on edge. His right leg couldn’t stop bouncing, and he tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair impatiently. 

“Don’t worry, the Udakus are never on time,” Naomi reassured him as he looked to the clock for the second time in the last minute. Their appointment started five minutes ago.

“They run on CP time, huh?” he joked, trying to distract himself from his nerves. 

“CP time?”

“Colored people time...the name’s dated as hell, but basically Black people ain’t ever on time.”

“That is true of Wakanda as well,” she laughed. “Time is more of a suggestion here.”

“I can fuck with it,” he chuckled but was cut short by the thumping in his chest as the door opened, and T’Challa walked in, holding the door for the rest of the family.

“Your highnesses,” Naomi saluted them. “Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

Naomi had arranged the chairs in her office so that the six of them sat in a circle. Mira sat between Erik and Ramonda, and Shuri chose the seat closest to Naomi. T’Challa sat between his mother and sister and threw a smile Erik’s way.

“Thank you all for coming here today. It is imperative that Erik has a healthy support system when he leaves here, and I just wanted to make sure we are all on the same page. I know you have each met with him individually, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get it all out there and move forward as a unit. Now, I know we all want what’s best for Erik-”

Shuri scoffed, and Naomi turned to her.

“Princess, I heard you still have some reservations about him. Why?”

“He killed my brother,” she seethed.

“Shuri, I am right here,” T’Challa said, exasperated at her unwillingness to see past her anger.

“By the grace of Bast!”

“Shuri,” Ramonda chided.

“Queen Mother, if you don’t mind, I think this is a conversation that needs to happen between these two.”

Ramonda nodded and gestured for Shuri to continue.

“You’re only here because Nakia snatched a heart-shaped herb before he burnt the rest of them to the ground. It’s taken this long for them to even start growing again. All he does is destroy, and I don’t want him here. It’s bad enough you made me heal him, but now I have to look at him every day and pretend to like him, too?”

“You don’t have to like him, Shuri, but he is family-”

“That didn’t mean anything when he threw you over the falls or when he almost killed me, so why should it matter now?”

“Because I’m not that same person anymore,” Erik jumped in.

“Oh, sure. You’re just magically better all of a sudden,” she rolled her eyes and turned back to her brother. “How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing he’s in the palace?”

“Princess Shuri, Erik has been working very hard to overcome his anger and his past traumas. So much so that I see no need to extend his stay past what we originally agreed on.”

“Wait, really?” Erik’s face brightened, and he turned in his seat to look at Naomi.

“Yes. You have shown remarkable improvement, Erik.”

“You mean he can come home soon?” Queen Mother asked, prompting Erik and Shuri to feel very different ways about her use of the word “home.” Erik missed having one, and Shuri hated having him in hers.

“Yes, ma’am, he’ll be out of here in two weeks.”

Mira couldn’t contain her smile as she reached for his hand. They locked eyes, and yet again, the look in his eyes needed no words. They were glassy as they swelled with tears, and a couple fell while Naomi handed him the tissue box.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Ramonda asked.

“My bad,” he sniffled as he dried his tears. “I just really want to see Cupcake.”

“She wants to see you, too. I told her you were sick and had to get better before she could, but she’s been asking me about you damn near every second.”

“And me, as well. She is excited to meet you, cousin,” T’Challa chimed in. “‘Do you think daddy will like this?’, ‘When is he coming home?’, ‘Is daddy still sick?’, ‘Can you tell daddy I love him?’”

“Or my personal favorite, ‘Can we bring some to daddy?’ after dinner last night,” Ramonda added.

“She’s still a daddy’s girl, through and through,” Mira said with a sarcastic eye-roll, making Naomi chuckle.

“Yes, mine is the same way. It is quite frustrating,” she joked. “Now, I think it would be beneficial for us to go around the room and get it all out on the table. Princess Shuri already went, unless you have more to say…”

“No.”

“Ok, then King T’Challa, how about you go next?”

He nodded and looked to his cousin.

“I do not think I have said this to you yet, but I am genuinely sorry, Erik-”

“Stop, you didn’t do anything.”

“I know, but I needed to say it. I am also sorry I disobeyed your wishes; that was something I should not have done.”

“I’ll say,” Shuri mumbled under her breath.

“But I am glad that I did. Otherwise, we would not get to see this other side of you.”

“Thanks, man. I was in a bad place, obviously, and, uh...I don’t know, I just felt like a failure...I felt like I had nothing to live for anymore...my pride was hurt.”

Mira slowly pulled her hand back and placed it in her lap, and Erik could feel the tension brewing beneath the surface.

“Anything else, my king?”

“Just that I hope we can move past all of this and build a relationship. You are my cousin, and I am determined to love you whether you want me to or not.”

Erik and Mira both smirked at the king. They were thankful for the kindhearted man and his insistence on cleaning up the bad blood in his family. 

“Queen Mother, do you have anything you would like to share?”

“Yes, actually,” she reached into her bag and pulled out something that had been gift-wrapped. She handed it to Erik, and he looked at her in confusion. “Go ahead, open it.”

Everyone looked on with intrigue as he ripped at the paper, revealing a gold picture frame. Erik flipped the frame over and a lump formed in his throat.

“This is from a gala for the Pan African Council in 1991. It was one of the two times I met him.”

Drops of water splashed on the picture of N’Jobu, and Erik looked up for a leak in the ceiling before he realized the tears were flowing from his eyes. He grabbed another tissue and passed the box around when he realized the others were getting misty-eyed as well. Even Shuri. 

“I, uh...I don’t know what to say...thank you, Auntie,” he croaked as he got up and pulled her into a hug. Mira took the opportunity to take a look at the picture. They had the same look in their eyes, but feature-wise, Erik had to have taken after his mother. There was no doubt about it though, those deep brown puppy dog Udaku eyes were front and center.

Erik sat down, and she handed the photo back to him.

“May I see?” T’Challa asked, and Erik passed it to him, watching as Shuri took a look over his shoulder to see it too. Her face softened a little more, and Erik could swear she saw a hint of sadness there. He passed it back, and Erik simply stared at the photo, fingers lightly caressing the fame.

“Alright, lastly, we have Mira. Anything to add?”

“Not really,” she shook her head.

“Well, then may I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Earlier, you seemed upset when Erik mentioned not having anything to live for. Care to expand on that?”

“Not really.”

“Mira...you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Erik? You said you have nothing to live for, yet your daughter and I were sitting at home waiting for you.”

“I wasn’t in my right mind, Mira. All that mattered was the mission. I lost myself to it. Actually, I lost myself a long time ago, but at the time, nothing could’ve pulled me back...not even you or Imani.”

“What if it happens again. Not for this, but for something else? What if you start working again and go back to your old ways? What then?”

“I won’t.”

“How am I supposed to trust that, Erik?”

“Mira, I’d like to jump in if you don’t mind.”

Mira shook her head and gestured for Naomi to continue.

“I understand your hesitance, but I assure you, I have the utmost faith that Erik has changed. His behaviors were tied to his trauma, and we have been able to work through his feelings of grief, anger, guilt, and self-loathing.”

“Self-loathing?” Queen Mother asked.

“Erik, would you care to…”

“Yeah, sure,” he cleared his throat. “I, uh, sort of hated myself for a long time. Everybody I loved died, and I had some sort of...what did you call it?”

“Survivor’s remorse.”

“Yeah, survivor’s remorse. I felt guilty for not dying.”

Mira looked up at him and her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to keep the tears at bay.

“Then I felt guilty for all the shit I did to survive, and how violent I became...then the self-hate kicked in when I realized how good I was at it.” His fingers ran over the scars on his forearm, and he took a deep breath. “These aren’t trophies. They’re my sins.”

The room fell silent.

“How many?” Shuri asked tentatively.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“I do,” Mira chimed in. “I’ve tried counting them, but you’re such a light sleeper it’s impossible. I can guess though...I got to five hundred once before you woke up one morning.”

“I don’t want you to look at me differently-”

“Erik, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, but nobody here will look at you any differently if you do. Right?”

Everyone agreed, even Shuri. 

Erik took a deep breath and hung his head before speaking, “Three thousand and nine scars...three thousand and nine people are dead because of me.”

“You’re not that person anymore, Erik,” Naomi reminded him.

“Yeah, but what if I am?”

“You’re not,” Mira reached for his hand again.

“How do you know?”

“Cousin, I can guarantee you that even in the short time we have known each other, you have changed.”

“Erik, you should trust yourself more. You’ve been given the tools you need; you just have to use them.”

He nodded slowly, taking in Naomi’s wise words.

“It also helps if you’re surrounded by people who love and support you.” She turned to Shuri, “Princess, let us work through your feelings.”

“I already said what I needed to say. I don’t trust him...but I’m not saying it’ll be like that forever. Just for now, I still don’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Have you ever had someone try to kill you?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“You never forget the look in their eyes.”

“I understand you, sister. It is not an easy thing to get past...however, it is possible. Look at him now. Do you see those same eyes?”

Erik looked at Shuri, and her stone face softened a little but still stayed pretty wooden.

“No.”

“Look, I get it...I’m your T’Chaka, but I don’t wanna be that person anymore. Not to Mira, not to Imani, not to y’all-”

“Don’t forget yourself. You’re doing this for you, too,” Mira chimed in, and Erik nodded.

“We are still working on self-love, but I feel that the next two weeks will be fruitful,” Naomi said, closing her notebook. “Is there anything else you all need to get off your chests?”

“I have one more thing,” Mira said as she sat up in her chair and turned her body to face Erik.

“I never told you what happened after you left,” she said, trying to keep it together. “I, um...I got depressed again, like when Imani was born. It wasn’t pretty, but I made sure she was good. I couldn’t eat. All I wanted to do was sleep. It got so bad I had to quit my job and go live with Stefan and Havana. I know that’s what you suggested in the first place, but I thought I could handle it on my own. I’m basically a stay-at-home mom now; I take care of the kids while Stef and Ana are at work...cooking and cleaning, and all that jazz. I never thought I would like that life, but it’s nice, and it’s a good way to repay them for letting us stay there. You wouldn’t believe how big SJ is now, and they have a new baby Daveed...things are different now, but it’s nice.”

“Have you...are you seeing anybody?”

“No, but I tried dating...didn’t work out.”

Erik tried and failed to hide the smirk on his face.

“I can’t say I’m sorry about that, but I am sorry about what I put you through, Mira. I shouldn’t have left you two.”

“I know you know that now; I just wish you knew it then.”

He pulled her hand to his lips for a kiss, and she let him.

“Are we still separated?”

Both Ramonda and T’Challa’s eyebrows raised. Neither of them was aware that the two had been having marital problems. T’Challa never even thought to ask.

“Erik, I need to tell you something…”

His breath hitched in his throat.

“I’m not saying it’s what I want now...but I was going to serve you with divorce papers. I had them drawn up and everything. They just needed your signature, but I couldn’t bring myself to give them to you. I was going to give them to you when you came back...if you came back.”

“And now?”

“Now...I don’t know, Erik. I think I have to get to know this new you to decide.”

“That’s fair.” He said to the ground before lifting his head and looking Mira in her eyes. “I’m gonna make you want to marry me all over again, though. Watch.”

--------

“If you don’t sit still, you’re going just like this,” Mira fussed as she tried to braid Imani’s hair. 

“No, I’ll stop!” Imani tried her best not to move, but the pillow she was sitting on was starting to get uncomfortable, and she was getting antsy. Every second that passed brought her one step closer to meeting her daddy, and she couldn’t wait. All she had to do was get through the school day. 

Mira smirked and tilted Imani’s head to the side to start on the last braid right as Shuri walked into the living room and plopped in the chair across from them. 

“Rough night?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Over the past two weeks, Shuri had been slowly opening up to the idea of Erik living in the palace, but when she closed her eyes at night, she just kept seeing him lurking over her bed, ready to strike. 

“Something on your mind?” Mira asked through gritted teeth that held a tiny black rubber band.

“No, just...apprehensive.”

“About Erik?” Mira mouthed to her so Imani couldn’t hear. Shuri nodded and sunk deeper into the chair with a sigh. Mira finished up Imani’s last braid and put a couple of beads on the end before kissing the top of her head. “Ok, you’re done. Can you go get dressed?”

“Ok, mommy!” Imani took off, but before Mira could tell her to slow down, T’Challa came around the corner and scooped her up, planting a kiss on her cheek. Imani’s giggles erupted throughout the expansive living area and forced Shuri to crack a smile.

“Why are you running in my palace?” he playfully chastised her.

“I’m happy I get to meet my daddy. If I put my school clothes on fast, it’ll happen faster!”

“Well, let’s make it even faster then!” T’Challa took off with her down the hall, leaving Shuri and Mira in the living room laughing at his shenanigans.

“When is he gonna have one of his own?”

Shuri’s eyes rolled all the way to the back of her head. “As soon as he stops chasing after a woman who wants to live on the other side of the planet.”

“Nakia still giving him the runaround?”

“Girl, you don’t know the half of it,” Shuri complained. “Maybe you or Erik can talk some sense into him.”

“Maybe...you seem to be warming up to the idea of him lately. How are you feeling?”

Shuri sighed and sat forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her thighs. “I won’t lie and say I’m thrilled, but I understand him better now, and I trust my brother’s judgment. And mama’s. And yours...I want him to be in Imani’s life, but it is just hard to forget his face in that moment, you know?”

Mira nodded, “I don’t, but I do.”

“Maybe seeing him in a new light with you and Imani will help,” Shuri shrugged.

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.” 

Just then, T’Challa re-entered the room, “The princess is having trouble deciding which outfit to wear.”

“That’s my queue,” Mira got up from the couch and washed off her greasy hands before strolling down the hallway to help out her little fashionista. She and T’Challa had already laid out three outfit choices, so it just came down to which one she thought her daddy would like best.

“I want to look nice to meet him, but I don’t know which one looks better.”

“Can I give a suggestion?”

“Mhm,” Imani nodded with her brows creased as she thought really hard over which outfit to pick.

“How about the gold sandals from Lala with this two-piece? Yellow looks good on you, and the sandals match your backpack. You’ll look like a little ray of sunshine.”

“Hmmm...Ok!”

“Glad I could help,” Mira chuckled.

“I’ll wear my yellow outfit if you wear your blue one just like it.”

“It’s a deal,” Mira threw over her shoulder as she left the room to go change. When she entered the living room, her cousins and Auntie all smiled at the two of them. Imani’s yellow Ankara print tube top and harem pants matched perfectly with Mira’s blue ones. The only difference was Mira had on some crisp white sneakers and big gold Fulani earrings. 

Mira walked Imani to school the same way she did every day, but this time her head was in the clouds. Even Imani was quiet on the way, the butterflies in both of their stomachs working overtime. When they reached the classroom, Imani turned to her mom, looking at her face that surprised Mira.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She crouched down to her level.

“What if daddy doesn’t like me?” she poked her lip out, and Mira knew she had to act fast before it started quivering, and the tears started falling.

“Like you? He loves you more than anything in this world!” she said excitedly while tickling Imani’s ribs and making her laugh. “He loves you just as much as I do, baby girl.”

“He does?”

“Of course, you’re his Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?”

“Mhm, that’s what he used to call you because you’re so sweet.” Mira pretended to gobble up Imani’s fingers, making her giggles chase away any doubts she had about her father. “Now, you  ready for school?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said excitedly.

“Alright, I’ll see you at 2. Be good.” Mira kissed Imani’s cheek and stood back up to her full height.

“I will, mommy. Sala kakuhle!” she waved goodbye and ran to go play with her friends while Mira sent the teacher a smile before heading back to the palace. 

When Mira was nervous, she liked to busy her hands with something, so she took some time to anxiously clean and organize her already clean quarters. She would have to sit in on another council meeting shortly, and although she wasn’t looking forward to having all that attention on her again, she was determined to go in there with her head held high.

Just as she started scrubbing the sink, her alarm went off telling her it was time for the meeting. She washed her hands and squeezed lemon juice on them to get rid of the bleach smell before leaving her quarters and traveling to the business side of the palace. When Mira entered the throne room, she slid into the empty seat between Ramonda and Shuri just as T’Challa started speaking.

“As you all know, Erik will be discharged from Ithemba Center today at noon, and we have the press conference scheduled at five. He has already been briefed on it, and while he is still apprehensive about addressing the nation, I have worked with him over the last week and it seems as though he will be fine. Any questions regarding the press conference?” The council members shook their heads and T’Challa continued, “Now, I have spoken to each of you about his community service, and have finally decided on the order. I would like him to start with the Jabari as a member of their fire and rescue team, then transfer to mining vibranium before moving to border patrols. Then he will work at the River tribe’s animal sanctuary, and he’ll end his service by working as janitorial staff in the market. The order is subject to change if necessary.”

“My king, are we sure we can trust him in the Mining and Border provinces?” Tendayi, the River tribe elder spoke out, making Dama and W’Dani nod along.

“Yes, I have faith in him. Any other questions?”

Mira tentatively raised her hand, not sure if she was allowed to talk or not. T’Challa nodded her way, and she cleared her throat before speaking, “I was wondering if we could move with him? He’s been away from Imani so long and once he comes back, I don’t want to disrupt her life any more than it’s already been disrupted.”

“That is understandable. Housing for the three of you will be provided in each province.”

“Thank you,” she turned to the elders, “and I don’t want to be a freeloader, so if there’s anywhere I can help out just let me know.”

“Mira, of course you and Imani are welcome to stay with us, but if you really want something to do we can find a job for you, too.” Ife stated as the other council members nodded along in agreement. 

“I’d like that. I need something to do,” she chuckled. “Thank you.”

“We will work something out,” Dama winked her way.

“We will miss the two of you around the palace, but I think that is a great idea. You will be provided with transportation to get Imani to school.”

“Thank you,” Mira smiled.

“You are welcome. Now, is there anything else?” T’Challa was met with silence as he checked the time on his beads and looked back at Mira. “Good, it is about time we go bring him home.”

Mira’s heart thumped in her chest as she nodded.

“Meeting adjourned.”

The council members filed out of the room, sending well-wishes to Mira as they went. 

--------

Erik happily signed his discharge paperwork, but his internal celebration was cut short by a knock at his door. He half expected it to be Mira, but he looked up and saw Naomi in his doorway. 

“How are you feeling today?”

“Excited and nervous.”

“I bet,” she chuckled. “Remember what we talked about, and you will be fine.”

Erik nodded and took a deep breath.

“Ready to go? I will walk you out.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Erik took a deep breath and they walked through the facility in silence before they reached the lobby. There stood T’Challa and Mira with huge smiles on their faces that infected Erik as soon as he saw them. Mira pulled him into a hug and held him tight as she rocked him from side to side.

“I’m so proud of you, Erik.”

“As am I, cousin.”

Mira let Erik go and he dapped T’Challa up, pulling him into a hug next.

“Thanks. Both of you...I couldn’t have done all this without you.”

Mira wiped a stray tear from her eye and looped her arm around his. “Let’s go home.”

“Home, huh? I like the sound of that,” he mused.

The three of them made their way back to the palace where they were greeted by a tearful Ramonda and a still apprehensive Shuri. She sent him a small smile, though, and that was enough for him. The family sat around the kitchen table talking and laughing as if it had always been that way, and Erik found their familiarity to be a comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. Ramonda constantly pushed food in Erik’s direction, and even though he had a late breakfast he just couldn’t say no. He stuffed his face full of eggah and freshly squeezed mango juice until he had his fill and sat back in his chair with his hands resting on his full stomach.

“I’m ready for a nap. Where am I staying?”

“This week you will be in the palace, as well as during your time working for the Merchant tribe-”

“You’re gonna hate it…” Mira sang under her breath with a wry laugh, making T’Challa smirk.

“But, other than that, you will be staying with the various tribes during your volunteer time.”

“What exactly am I supposed to be doing?” he sent a suspicious look Mira’s way.

“We can discuss that later. For now, let us get you settled in.”

Erik nodded and followed behind Mira and T’Challa as they walked through the winding palace hallways. They took him to his living quarters, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that he would still be living with Mira and Imani.

“I didn’t know if you’d want me with you or not.”

“Oh, you’re sleeping in the guest room...but I wanted you close for Imani.”

“Fair enough,” Erik nodded and walked around the space, checking it out.

“I will leave you two alone to get settled in,” T’Challa turned and left the space.

Mira looked at her beads. “You might want to go ahead and get ready, we’ll be leaving in thirty minutes.

“Leaving?”

“Mhm, we have to pick up Imani from school.”

“W-we do?”

“Yeah...are you ok?”

“Nah. What if she doesn’t like me?”

Mira bursted out laughing and caught him off-guard. “She asked me the same thing this morning.”

Erik just smiled and shook his head. He had nothing to worry about.

“Just like her daddy, huh?”

“Just like him,” she smiled back.

“I guess I should get ready, then. I want to make a good first impression.”

“Erik, you’ll be fine…I promise. She already loves you.”

He stood and kissed her forehead before turning and walking towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head. Mira tried to avert her eyes, but his rippling back muscles called to her. Her face felt hot, and she bolted out of the room, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he made her.

He did.

A little while later, Erik emerged from the bathroom very well moisturized and followed by a cloud of steam. He stood there for a few minutes in his towel, staring at the clothes in his huge closet, not knowing what to put on his body.

“Mira!” he called to her in the other room. She playfully rolled her eyes and headed his way, already knowing what he wanted. Like father, like daughter.

“You rang?” she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest, trying like hell to keep her eyes above his collarbone. 

“I don’t know what to wear.”

“Wakandan or American?”

“Uh, American, I guess.”

“Do you want to match Imani?”

His face lit up, and she took it for a yes, pulling out a pastel yellow t-shirt and a pair of jeans with matching sneakers. 

“This outfit with gold accessories.”

“Thanks,” he grinned at her, and Mira tried not to get lost in his dimples. She was failing miserably, so she left him to his own devices. She missed the satisfied smirk on his face.

--------

Erik could feel the eyes on him as he walked through the city with Mira and T’Challa. Some were cold, but most were simply confused by his presence. 

“Ignore them,” Mira whispered up to him, and he nodded, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let anything ruin this moment. 

They arrived at the elementary school and Mira went in to get Imani while the two men waited outside. As soon as Imani saw her mother, she jumped down and ran over to her.

“Hey baby girl, how was your day?”

“Good! I made a new friend,” she said proudly.

“You did? I’ll have to meet them sometime soon. Right now we have to go see daddy,” Mira’s eyes flashed with mischief and Imani’s joy radiated throughout the room. “Ready?”

Imani was so happy she could barely speak, so she just nodded her head. Mira waved goodbye to the teacher, and the two of them traveled back down the hallway hand in hand.

Erik’s fingers tapped his thigh in rapid succession and he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I can hear you overthinking, cousin.”

Erik started pacing back and forth and was about to open his mouth to say something when the doors to the school swished open. T’Challa held his hand up and started recording with his beads.

“Daddy!” Imani saw Erik and dropped her backpack as she ran to him. For a moment, he was frozen in time, but as she got closer he snapped out of it and crouched down for her to run into his arms.

“Hey, Cupcake,” his voice cracked as he held her tight. Her little arms wrapped around his neck like she never wanted to let him go, and he couldn’t help the tears that streamed from his eyes. Mira and T’Challa tried their best to hold it together, but neither could blink the tears away.

“What’s wrong?” Imani heard him sniffle and pulled back to look at his face.

“Nothing, baby, I’m just happy to see you.” He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to Bast to thank her for letting him live another day to see his daughter once more.

The four of them walked back to the palace with Imani talking Erik’s ear off the whole way as he carried her on his hip. The first thing she did when they got there was to show him her dolls, all of which were fully decked out in the most beautiful doll-sized finery T’Challa could get his hands on. Erik took in the sparkly purple walls and the finger paints by an easel in the corner of the room. Her canopy bed was the main attraction, though, and made her feel the princess she was.

“Damn, T did all this?” Erik asked as Mira entered the room behind him.

“Yep,” she laughed. “He’d do anything for that little girl.”

“Remind me to thank him later…” he trailed off as his eyes caught sight of an enormous, stuffed jaguar by the window seat. A goofy smile took over his face, and Mira couldn’t help but swoon. Over the past few weeks of her getting to see Erik at Ithemba, she could tell his spirit was lighter. However, it wasn’t until the three of them were sitting in Imani’s room playing with her dolls that she thought Erik actually looked happy. And not just happy, but happier than she had ever seen him. His smiles actually reached his eyes for the first time since before he left for Wakanda, and she loved to watch the two of them interact with each other. Erik was a gentle giant when it came to his baby girl, and all his fierceness flew out the window when Imani started popping butterfly clips in his locs. 

Erik noticed Mira was lost in her thoughts, so he reached over and grabbed her hand. He squeezed it and looked into her eyes, once again conveying his soul with a single look. 

He was home for good this time. Next Chapter

Taglist: @ladymac82​, @kitesatforestp​, @harleycativy​, @raysunshine78​, @maddeningmayhem​, @theblulife​, @motheroffae​, @love-mesome-me​, @toni9​

[mrsgiovanna]

Unhinged - Don Giorno x Fem! Reader

A misunderstanding causes the reader a whole lot of distress. Blame it on the stress of planning your wedding to the Golden dreamboat or his shifty behavioral cues. Needless to say this occurs many years after the events of Vento Aureo. Some mild angst, some fluff, some mild nsfw- a mixed bag that nobody asked for really, unashamedly self indulgent 🥺💭💖

You always judged those unhinged girls. You know the type, the ones who would steal their partners phones and “run into them” at very convenient times. Pathetic, you’d always think, so you could not understand how, in heaven’s name, you found yourself sitting in your car across from your favorite Café, spying on your fiancé. You were thankful for the oversized sunglasses that hid most of your face as you stole a glance at yourself in the rear view mirror. You can’t imagine what your eyes might look like at this point.

It all started a week ago… Giorno was an extremely busy man, you of all people knew that best. He always made time for you though, however, the closer it got to your wedding, the less you saw of him. You were busy yourself, so you didn’t really have much time to yearn for his company, but the coldness of your bed was always a reminder that someone very important was supposed to be occupying that space. It wasn’t just the scarcity of your lover that had set off alarms in your mind, it was more his odd behavior. He was so secretive these days, keeping conversations shorter than they needed to be, hiding his devices from you when he received texts, discarding every scrap of paper from his pockets before properly greeting you when he did manage to come home in the daylight. Each time you questioned his behavior he just sweetly smiled and replied that everything was alright.

And so continued this mistimed waltz on eggshells until that fateful morning. A swirl of emotions bubbled up in your chest suffocating you when you found some kind of broken jewel clinging to Giorno’s suit. You couldn’t really make out what it might have been part of, or what lewd activities managed to dislodge it from its original owner and onto him, but for the first time in the years you have been together, you were suddenly unsure of whether you could spend your life with this man. Did you even know him at all?

The walls of the villa never felt so restrictive before, you needed to get out, clear your mind, perhaps even get another perspective. You could just be overreacting as you know you are inclined to do sometimes. Giorno was still in the shower, you contemplated letting him know that you were going out, but decided to just go. He can stew a little, get a taste of your personal hell for just a few hours. Hurriedly throwing on the outfit you laid out, you grab your keys and headed off to your favorite coffee shop, calling Trish while you were on your way there, asking her to meet you. The two of you had grown closer over the years and right now you needed a friend who would give you sound advice without sugarcoating the facts.

Giorno had sauntered out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his upper body still glistening from the shower with his wet hair cascading down his back. He expected to find you there just doing your hair or putting on your mascara, he loved watching you get ready. It gave him a chance to fully admire you, making him feel proud, bordering on arrogant, that you were his and only he got to see all the different sides there were to your beauty. He knew he was being distant with you but he had his reasons for being so preoccupied. Walking towards the nightstand to check his phone, he sees the jacket he wore yesterday on the floor with the little jewel still hooked onto the fibers of the expensive fabric. Throwing his head back in resignation, he called Trish, already aware of what you might be thinking, and knowing that she’s usually the first person you’d turn to when you needed to chat.

“Hi Trish, do you have a second to chat? I’ll make it quick,” he starts off, putting the call on speaker so he can get dressed for the day.

“Giorno, what did you do? She already called me in a state, I’m on my way to meet her for coffee as we speak,”

“Okay look, I can explain everything, just know that I’m not being unfaithful,”

“How did this escalate so fast? Why are you giving her reasons to jump to these conclusions so close to the wedding? You better not be messing around,”

Giorno could hear the suspicion that edged Trish’s voice, so he explained everything and begged her to calm you down while he tended to a few issues.

You felt your shoulders relax as the tension melted away after pouring your heart out to Trish. After speaking to her it dawned on you that coming out and asking Giorno would be better than letting this outlandish scenario fester in your mind. After giving you the pep talk you needed Trish left to get on with her day while you stayed to organize yours. Sipping the last bit of your mocha Frappe, you darted towards your car when suddenly your attention was caught by a flash of gold and a flourish of a deep cerulean blue coat entering the Café. Certain that your eyes were playing tricks on you, you blinked a few times, but it was as clear as the blue sky above you, Giorno had arrived there with another woman. Hastily getting into your car, you sank into the soft leather seat and fished out your oversized Chanel sunglasses to conceal your presence as much as possible in the off chance he looked in your direction, although chances of that seemed very slim given how engrossed he was in their conversation.

Oh you hated every painful second of this, all the tension and anger that you’d let go of, found you all at once, marring your otherwise beautiful features.

You watched as he pulled out her chair and sat across from her, smiling that charming smile that could disarm a terrorist. He barely looked away from her, you wished he would see you, wondering what kind of explanation he’d conjure up. You contemplated going back inside to confront them, but you didn’t trust your emotions, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You wouldn’t dare give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry… and so you watched, preparing yourself for what you may or may not see, however your resolve shattered when you saw Giorno pull out a little black box and slide it across the table towards her. She beamed as she opened it examining the contents without taking it out… was it a replacement for that trinket that you found? He always did have impeccable taste, you had always thought it was reserved for you though. Unable to watch any longer, you started the car and sped off, not wanting to go home, but having no motivation to go anywhere else, you just drove aimlessly for a while.

“Oh Mr Giovanna, these are perfect, they’re exactly what I needed to complete her bracelet, I’m sure your fiancé is going to love it!” exclaimed the lady sitting opposite your lover.

“Please, call me Giorno. I would hope so, it’s more sentimental than anything else, I’m just astounded that you were able to recreate the intricacies of the original design. Your talent knows no bounds,”

“Ah, like any artist, I’m always intrigued by beauty and mystery. How were you able to get a this many dainty gems at this short notice?”

“I have my network, I’m just glad you can complete it now, I can’t wait to give it to her,”

“Well you won’t have to wait too long, I should have this ready by the close of business today,”

“I won’t keep you any longer then, thanks once again for handling my request,” said Giorno with an extended hand as he stood up to leave.

It was a mission to try and recreate your mother’s heirloom bracelet from a faded, wrinkled picture, but he was determined to give you something special, that would make you feel closer to her as well. Your lineage was a mystery, your father unknown, so when your mother arrived in Italy it was one of the few valuables she had had on her person. She did everything she could to provide for you when you were little, but she unfortunately had succumbed to her circumstances leaving you to fend for yourself in an unforgiving world. His heart clenched when you recounted stories of your childhood, which somewhat mirrored his own. You never complained though, he could see your heart ached when you thought of her, and all the things she would have helped you with especially now. Still, the way you concealed your heartache with a trained smile, would always make him wonder how such strength could be contained by something so angelically beautiful. Drawn out of his reverie of you, Giorno had arrived at his destination and continued with his day until it was time to collect your present and head home.

By the time you had finally found yourself at your driveway, you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to bury yourself in a cave and hibernate until everything was over. How arrogant of you to assume this would last when every good thing in your life came to an end. Dragging your wary body up the stairs, you buried yourself under the soft comforter, shutting your eyes with the hope that it would all have been a dream by the time you resurface.

When Giorno finally made it home, the first thing he did was seek you out. Usually you’d be quietly nestled on the couch reading or working on something, or you’d be tinkering in the kitchen making some sort of delicious treat, both as a means to relax and indulge your shared sweet tooth. But you couldn’t be found in either of those places. He found you huddled on the bed you both shared, looking so fragile as you slept in a fetal position. He didn’t want to disturb you but he couldn’t help gently brushing your hair off your face, which unfortunately resulted in you waking up.

“Gio, I didn’t expect you back this early…” you murmured, still waiting for your eyes to adjust to the light. The events of today came flooding back to you and you resolved to just come straight out and confront him. Noticing the change in your demeanor, Giorno sat next to you on the edge of the bed, while he loosened his top shirt button and took off his tie.

“Giogio, I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I’m just going to say it… you’ve been acting so different lately, always so secretive, hiding things from me, and this morning I found remnants of some jewelry that didn’t belong to me on your clothes… and probably the worst thing of all is that I saw you with someone while I was out this morning. You both looked very comfortable with each other, and… I… who is she?” you rambled on, your voice barely louder than a whisper. This wasn’t playing out how you had imagined it, with most of the fight being forced out of your body by melancholy. Seeing the evidence of your anguish in your eyes, Giorno reached out to cup your cheek, you mentally chastised yourself for automatically melting into his touch.

“Ah my sweet principessa, I love you, only you, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you or break that trust. The lady you saw me with is a jewelry designer, I commissioned something very special for you, so we just met so I could give her the materials to complete it… I wanted to give it to later at dinner tonight, but you’re in no condition to go out, so let’s stay in, okay?” he explained as he pulled out a box from his breast pocket and settled down next to you. “Go on, open it,”

You gingerly take the box, opening it slowly, curiosity and embarrassment fighting against each other in your mind.

“Gio, how did you manage to find it after all these years? I thought it would have been melted down and broken up completely.”

You simply couldn’t believe your eyes, it broke your heart when you sold off the bracelet to pay off her debts after she passed, it killed your spirit entirely when you were told it wasn’t enough to cover what she’d owed. That’s how you found yourself in Passione, working as one of Bucciarati’s underlings.

“Well, unfortunately I couldn’t find the exact piece bella, trust me, I tried. You’re probably correct in saying that it was taken apart, so I had this recreated to its exact specifications. I hope you like it,”

Giorno’s voice was so tender, as was his expression. Tears clouded your vision, it was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you, you were at a complete loss for words.

“Gio… Tesoro, I don’t know what to say, thank you doesn’t seem like nearly enough. And I’m so sorry I ever doubted you, I feel like such an idiot, that’s probably because I am one. How can I make it up to you? I totally understand if you’re too upset to talk to…” your rambling was cut off by Giorno’s lips gently pressing against your own. His hand softly grasped the back of your head, slightly tilting your face upwards to deepen the kiss.

“That was thanks enough amore mio, I love you,”

“Ti amo con tutto il mio cuore,” you reply, while trying to hide your embarrassment by nestling your face in the crook of Giorno’s neck.

“Molto bene, your Italian is improving bella, I’m proud of you.”

Giorno snaps the sparkly trinket onto your wrist and admires how your eyes light up when you look at it. The glimmer of his eyes in the soft lighting of the room awakened a yearning within you. Giving in to the feeling, you kiss Giorno’s collarbone, earning a hum of approval from him, as you softly trailed kisses up his neck and onto his jaw, finally settling on his lips. You felt him smiling into the kiss, he ran his tongue across your bottom lip asking for entry, to which you willingly obliged as your hands toyed with his braid, undoing it completely. His hands ran up and down your body, worshipping the dips and curves he adored so much. Breaking away from the kiss for a moment, he looked down at you, eyes darkened with lust, hands hovering over the buttons of your shirt asking for permission to disrobe you, which you granted with a small nod. He was so gorgeous, so strong and he exuded such charisma that you found yourself submitting to his every request, spoken or otherwise, lapping up every bit of praise he afforded you as you took him in his entirety. Once, twice, you had lost count of how many times you both peaked.

At some point in the night you had woken up ensconced in the warm embrace of your sleeping lover, finally being able to form a coherent thought, you promised yourself to never baselessly doubt his love for you ever again. With that you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to fall asleep again, feeling completely safe, content and loved.

[suchdan-veryphil]

A Whole Ass Baby? - Jack Barakat Imagine

Anonymous said:

How about a Jack Barakat headcannon/whatever you wanna write about you two finding out that you’re gonna have a kid? I need more Jack content tbh 

Word Count: 2,367

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, getting sick, sex mention, menstruation mentioned, doctors

A/N: 

This is the second time I put something back in my drafts instead of posting it when I was done. And this is now the second time I was sad that a post wasn’t getting notes when it was never posted. I will do better. This took forever, but here it is. I love Jack Bassam Barakat. I love writing Jack Barakat. I am HERE FOR THIS

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

It had been three weeks since I started feeling nauseous. I would just be sitting down and be hit with a sudden wave of nausea, like I was on a boat for too long. I could still eat, I could still drink, I could still shake my ass to Mr. Brightside but if I sat for too long I would just be hit with the feeling that it was time to vom. 

Then two weeks ago, I was fine. The nausea was gone, the world was bright again.

Then about two days ago, it hit me again. I couldn’t eat anything that wasn’t toast, crackers, a banana, or water (although the water was a hit or miss). Too much of anything caused me to be violently sick, and unfortunately for me, “too much” of most things meant one bite. Otherwise, I felt fine. No aches and pains, no headache, no fever. I wasn’t thinking too much about it, though, mostly for those reasons. 

Meanwhile, Jack was pounding back cake, pizza, ribs, wings, margs, and everything in between four or five times a day without a second thought. I was honestly jealous. 

We were sitting on our sofa, watching The Office. I was laying on two of the cushions and he was sitting on the third, resting his elbow on my knees. I watched as he popped three pizza rolls into his mouth at once and started chewing rather loudly. In response, I groaned and pushed his shoulder with the pad of my foot. 

“Do you have to enjoy the good food in the house when I’m sick?” 

He started to reply, but I couldn’t understand him with all of that food in his mouth. It was a low grumble, and he was starting to drool a pizza stained slobber the more he attempted to speak.

“What?! I can’t understand you,” I chuckled a little and sat up before wiping his nasty spit out of his beard. He chewed the food and quickly swallowed before answering. 

“I said, if I don’t eat it then nobody will and that’s a shame. Besides, I still think you should go to the doctor.” He popped another roll in his mouth and looked over at me. 

“I disagree. My stomach has just been off. I have literally zero other symptoms.” 

“You haven’t eaten in like a week. You need to go to the doctor.” Jack raised his eyebrows at me and stared intently. He was probably right, but I hated the doctors and he knew this. 

“If I don’t feel better by Sunday, I’ll go to the doctor. Okay? Just two days.” 

We just stared at each other, both of us begging the other to give in silently. I leaned in and did my best to pout my lip without it being obvious. 

I could tell the second that he went to inhale deeply through his nose that I had won. 

“Thank you,” I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. 

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

“You didn’t have to.” I kissed his cheek once more, getting a whif of his greasy lunch. It hit my stomach instantly, bringing me to my feet and to the bathroom to empty whatever small contents that were left. 

That was definitely the universe giving me some sort of karma. 

I could feel his hands rubbing my back as I leaned over the toilet and waited to see if anything else was going to invite itself up. 

With a deep breath, I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped my mouth before flushing and sitting on the cold tile. 

“Do you feel better?” Jack continued to rub my back. I took a second to listen to my body, and also to get reoriented. After a moment, I nodded my head and pressed my palms against the floor to push myself off of the ground. I was only a few inches off the ground when I started to feel dizzy and fell back into Jack’s arms. I closed my eyes and put my hand up to my forehead. 

“Ok, let’s go to the doctor.” I leaned against the sink counter and collected myself before I began to brush my teeth. 

I could see Jack’s face become instantly relieved through the mirror as I spoke.

“I’ll get the keys.” 

Within the minute, we were getting into the car and buckling up. Jack reached over as we stopped at a light and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. 

“Well you don’t have a fever.” His hands dropped to hold mine, fingers interlaced. 

“I know, that’s why I really didn’t want to go anywhere. I’ve had stomach aches before,” I sighed and rubbed circles along his hand with my thumb. 

Jack nodded and focused on driving. “I know. I know,” 

It wasn’t long before we were in the waiting room of my doctor’s office. I was busy concentrating on not getting sick in front of the other patients waiting to be seen and Jack took out his phone to play a game. 

I stared at his phone screen as he made switched pieces of candy to watch them pop. I concentrated so hard on the screen that I didn’t hear when they called my name. 

“Hey, that’s you.” Jack locked his phone and elbowed my arm as I came to. 

“Oh. Oh, I’m coming. Sorry.” I turned and handed Jack my bag. “Can you hold this?” He just nodded and slung it over his shoulder casually and continued to scroll through his phone.  

I followed the RN into the examination room and sat on the chair with the noisy white paper on it. “So, Y/N, what brings you in today?” 

I sighed and sat back on the chair, making the paper rustle. “Well, I haven’t been feeling well for the last couple of weeks. I have bad nausea, I can’t keep anything down. Today, my boyfriend was eating a pizza roll and just the smell made me sick. I got really light headed in the bathroom after getting sick. I don’t have a fever or anything, but Jack, my partner, is set on me getting seen so... here we are.” 

I let out a breath and watched as the nurse processed everything. “Are you on any medication? Any change in your diet or exercise routine?” 

“Nope, I’m still not on anything and I still don’t diet or exercise.” We both chuckled at my little joke before she nodded and started to take my temp and my blood pressure. 

“Sexually active?” She asked, releasing the air from my arm band. 

I nodded my head and watched as she removed the band. “Yes indeed.” 

“Do you use contraceptives?” 

“We do.” 

“When was your last menstrual cycle?” 

“Um,” I paused and thought back to when the last time I got my period was. I couldn’t remember, which was probably not the best sign. 

“I’d like to give you a pregnancy test to rule it out before the doctor goes and prescribes you something, if that’s alright.” She opened a cabinet and began to reach for whatever she was grabbing as I answered. 

“Yea, that’s fine.” I could feel my palms begin to get sweaty as I thought of the possibility that I was pregnant. Me? A mom? I couldn’t imagine it. I slept until almost noon most days and ate mac and cheese for most meals. There was no way I could be a mom. 

Jack as a dad, though, that was something I could see. He was always ready to take care of others and make someone laugh. Jack was someone who had a lot of patience, was goal-driven, and just made everyone happy. I tried to imagine what it would be like if he had a tiny baby to love and care for, but I was pulled back by the nurse who handed me a cup. 

“Here you go, just pee in this and leave it on the shelf over the sink with your birthday written on it. You can come back in here when you’re done and we’ll let you know what we get and take it from there.” 

I took the small plastic container in my hands and sighed as I looked at it. Getting up from the seat, I couldn’t help but notice my cheeks started to hurt. I could not stop smiling, just imagining that Jack and I could possibly be having a baby. 

Once I reached the bathroom, I followed the nurse’s instructions step-by-step and washed my hands thoroughly. All I could think was “I should have drank more water today” and “Jack and I might be parents”. 

Sitting back on the seat, I bit my lip and rested my head back in the headrest. Jack had no idea what was going on in this room. He was just sitting in the waiting room with my purse over his shoulder, playing Candy Crush or scrolling through TikTok. 

I could feel another wave of nausea hit and I silently prayed to whatever higher power would listen that I would not throw up in this office. All of my energy went into holding in whatever it was that was threatening its way up. To my demise, I was quickly pulled to my feet and hunched over a garbage can to hurl. Between heaves, I heard the door open and close before being met with the voice of my nurse. 

“Well, I think we know why you’re getting so sick.” The water turned on and I soon saw a cup of water in my line of vision along with a tissue. I took both gratefully once I knew I was done before wiping my mouth and drinking the water. I threw the cup and tissue in the trash before sitting and apologizing. 

“I can take that out with me, I’m so sorry. Thank you.” I was rambling at this point, feeling just embarrassed that she had walked in on that. 

“Don’t worry about that. Grosser things have happened here, trust me. We’ll get it taken out once you leave. Now, I have news that could be either really good or really bad depending on how you take it but know that there are options from here.” 

Somehow, this only confused me so I just nodded in hopes that she would get to it. 

“You’re pregnant. This would explain the sickness, the lack of appetite, the lack of fever, and the lack of a period.” 

My heart started to race and I could hear it pumping in my ears. “Wow.” 

It was all I could muster before I looked at her and smiled a little. “Can... can we go get Jack?” 

“Of course! I’ll go get him, I just didn’t want to tell you in front of him just in case.” She smiled back at me and left the room for a minute before returning with Jack, who was still holding my purse over his shoulder. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I saw him looking so non-chalant with it. 

“Hey you. Is everything okay?” He reached out his hand to grab mine before squeezing gently and looking at the nurse and then back at me. 

“Yea, everything’s fine.” I smiled widely at him and bit my lip before looking at the nurse. 

“Well we figured out why Y/N has been getting so sick.” The nurse started before she looked at me. I nodded and held back my tears as she continued. “She’s pregnant.” 

Jack was silent for a second before he looked down at me. “Wait. What?” He smiled widely and dropped my bag to the ground before taking my other hand and squeezing them tightly. 

All I could do was nod. 

“A baby?” He asked and tilted his head, much like a dog would when confused. 

I chuckled and nodded my head. “A baby, Jack.” 

I was barely finished with my sentence before he leaned down and wrapped me up in his arms tightly. 

“Oh my god. A whole ass baby. A kid. A child.” he rubbed my back over a few times before leaning back and holding my face in his hands. 

“So you’re happy?” I asked and smiled widely, reflecting his. Jack let out a quick, “ha” before leaning in and kissing me deeply. 

Once we separated, he bit his lower lip and glanced down at my stomach. “How far along are you?” 

I shrugged, and the nurse chimed in momentarily. “By the looks of your period chart, it would look like you’re about 7 weeks along. I’ll give you guys a few minutes, but when you’re ready you can go to the front and make an appointment with us for within the next few weeks and we can follow up.” 

“Thank you.” was all Jack or I could muster as she excused herself. He looked down at me and dropped his jaw. 

“A whole baby!” 

I laughed and nodded. “Yes! A whole ass baby! Growing in here!” I poked my stomach and chuckled before I bit my lower lip to contain the smile. 

“So you bothered me and pestered me about condom usage and we ended up getting knocked up anyways.” Jack commented. I gently and playfully pushed his shoulder and shook my head. 

“Oh shut up, Barakat. Looks like that wine room is getting turned into a nursery.” 

“Says you. I was thinking your office would be comfier.” 

I laughed a little and shook my head. “Yes, because we need a wine clubhouse AND a wine closet. Sorry, how dare I?” 

With a smile, Jack helped me up to my feet and held my hand. With his free hand, he picked up my bag and handed it to me. 

“I’m carrying a child and you want me to carry my bag too?” I teased as I reached for it. Quickly, he pulled it back and slung it over his shoulder again. 

“Fine, I look better with it anyways. It’s definitely not your color,” he said and lead the way to the front reception area. 

The way my heart swelled with love and joy told me that I was on a very eventful and joyous journey with my boyfriend and our growing family. 

[aurora077]

Intervention

Summary: Lan Xichen’s seclusion had gone on long enough, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion. It was time for an intervention. Fem!JC

Author's Note: This work is set in jiucengta ‘s haunting legacies au (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716682)which I suggest you check out. Jiang Cheng is female and was married to Wei Wuxian before shit hit the fan. The relationships are not explicitly stated here, it's very background. I just had this idea and wanted to get it out there. I may or may not do another fic very similar to this one but not set in an AU, just post-canon instead.

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Two years had gone by since the fateful Guanyin Temple incident that rocked the cultivation world. Two years (a little more really) since Jiang Cheng’s erstwhile husband had returned from the dead. Two years (a little less actually but who’s counting) since she lost her widowed status and gained an extra love to boot somewhere in the middle. And two years since Sect Leader Lan had gone into seclusion, punishing himself for his blindness and mourning the loss of both his sworn brothers.

Normally Jiang Cheng would not stick her nose in other sects’ business. But Gusu Lan had become more than just another sect to her; it was important to those she loved and so, it was also important to her. And even if things hadn’t turned out the way they did in her personal life, Lan Xichen is someone she would have wanted to help anyway. During the thirteen years her husband had been dead he had been one of the few to show any open support for her.

She would never forget that fateful discussion conference-- the one where she’d been dubbed Wife of the Yiling Demon after she rebuffed Jin Guangshan’s attempt to pressure her into marriage (brokered by him no less-- undoubtedly trying to get her to wed one of his own relatives...control over the Jiang could only work in his favour). Loudmouthed Sect Leader Yao would have turned things even uglier for her had it not been for Lan Xichen’s timely intervention on her behalf. His steady support had helped her in more ways than one over the years despite the fact that they were not ever particularly close. With Gusu Lan seemingly in her corner, the voices that would (and initially, did) loudly decry a young female Sect Leader were forced to whisper instead.

That was why she found herself sitting opposite the man, sipping on a cup of tea as he gazed inquisitively at her.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he greeted, sounding weary, voice containing only a trace of his former warmth, “What brings you here? As you know I am still in seclusion, technically, I should not be having visitors. Is there something urgent that you need my help with?”

“Yes,” she said, and continued bluntly as was her way, “I’m here to convince you to leave it.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

It spoke to the measure of self control the Lan’s had that he didn’t simply kick her out of the hanshi.

“I beg your pardon but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

She cleared her throat and tried to measure her words more carefully; she didn’t want to be asked to leave before she had made her arguments and she tried to remember that this Lan Xichen had been hurt too deeply to retain his former magnanimity.

“You may not know it Lan Xichen, but outside these walls you are sorely missed.”

His lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite make it.

“I’m aware my family may miss me, Sect Leader Jiang, but I had no idea that you harbored such strong feelings towards me that you now miss my presence.”

She sputtered slightly, not expecting him to joke about it when he looked like he could keel over if she spoke too loudly. “I…” her face turned red, “That wasn’t what…”

Taking pity on her he waved her protests away, voice becoming more solemn, “Why don’t you tell me why you think I should leave my seclusion. You of all people should understand why I need to do this. It was your family hurt the most by my ignorance.”

She drew in a breath to steady herself, “Did you hold me responsible when Wei Wuxian did all the crap that he did?”

“That’s different, he was manipulated,” he frowned.

“Nobody knew that until recently Zewu-Jun. And manipulation or not he still made choices that led to a lot of harm. So I ask you again, was I to blame? Should I not have been able to stop my husband? Is it not, therefore also my fault? Maybe I should join you in seclusion since his demonic cultivation was partly because he gave me his core and had no options left.”

He looked pained, “I have never blamed you for his choices. You couldn’t help what you didn’t know. None of us knew he didn’t have a core.”

“And none of us knew Jin Guangyao was a megalomaniac either. So how can you be blamed for his choices? If you are to shoulder the blame then so should all the rest of us.”

“The rest of you weren’t his sworn brothers!” he almost shouted.

“Mingjue knew. He warned me not to trust him so many times. I dismissed him. I thought he was paranoid and misjudging A-Yao like so many others. If he could see it, why didn’t I? I wronged Da-ge in the worst way because I thought I knew better than him,” His breathing was coming out ragged, “I thought A-Yao was the one who knew me best. Who I knew best.”

It spoke to his state of mind that he even let all of that out in front of her.

“Sect Leader Jiang, the man I considered my closest companion is the man most hated by the cultivation world and reviled as a monster. How do you think I must look in comparison? I am sure there are those out there wondering if I had known and if I even helped him with all of his plans. There are people who will speculate as to the bounds of our relationship. If I did not go into seclusion they would say I had no shame, look what his sworn brother did and he’s out and about like normal. Then there are those who look at my decision to seclude myself as an indicator of guilt and may accuse me of complicity. Or they will look at my mourning and see someone who mourns a monster and who does that? Why mourn a monster? Sect Leader Yao even openly criticised your young nephew for crying at the coffin of his uncle who also helped raise him. A parentless child who saw one of his only remaining close family members die brutally after being exposed as a serious criminal, who even threatened him with bodily harm, could not grieve him without censure. What of a grown man, and a Sect Leader at that!”

“With all due respect, so what?”

“E..excuse me?” Lan Xichen was torn between being confused and insulted.

“You heard me. So. What?” she started, “So what if they think these things? Does that make it true? If Sect Leader Yao thinks that you’re an incestuous troll would that make it true? If Sect Leader Ouyang says ‘hey did you know that Sect Leader Lan likes to visit brothels in secret’ would that make it true? Just because people think something does not make it a reality. Your sect certainly does not believe you are responsible for the actions of Jin Guangyao and would stand by you if anyone insinuates otherwise. You have your brother and your uncle who love you and are worried about you. Your sect has thrived under your leadership and undoubtedly they all miss you too.”

That Lan Jingyi kid couldn’t shut up about how much he missed Zewu-Jun. And she knew Lan Zhan missed his brother and lamented that he could not do more for him. He and Lan Qiren were working themselves ragged trying to pick up the pieces. He’d hardly had time to come back to Lotus Pier and she and Wei Ying missed him dearly. They’d had to make up so many ‘official’ reasons to find themselves in the Cloud Recesses so that they could spend some time together. So yes on the one hand it would be good for them if Zewu-Jun were to leave seclusion but she wasn’t simply doing it for that reason. It was because if anyone could understand what Zewu-Jun was going through, it would be her. And she didn’t think that seclusion was going to help anything. All it would do is make him ruminate on his mistakes over and over again until he likely went mad himself.

“You said that the man you considered your closest companion turned out to be a monster. Gee, I wonder what that feels like? You said that people will wonder if you helped him with his plans, oh gee, I wonder what that feels like?” Zewu-Jun had the grace to look abashed at that.

She continued, softer, “You said people will talk about what kind of person mourns a monster. But you’re not mourning a monster, are you? When A-Ling cried over his coffin, did you blame him for it? Did you think ‘why is this child mourning when he should celebrate the end of the one who fractured his family?’ like Sect Leader Yao did?” Zewu-Jun shook his head but didn’t say anything, letting her continue.

“A-Ling was mourning the loss of the uncle he knew. And you are mourning the loss of the companion he had been to you. The world will only ever view him as a monster because the world never knew him. But you did. Maybe you didn’t know everything about him, but not everything about him was fake. I hate Jin Guangyao, I will not pretend otherwise. But I was there, Zewu-Jun. I was there, and I could see that he truly did care for you and value you. Not everything he showed you would have been fake. You of all people probably got more sincerity out of him than anyone else. And so you, of all people, have a right to mourn the man he was, the same way A-Ling still mourns the loss of the man who gifted a lonely child a dog. Not everything had an ulterior motive. Even monsters can love can’t they? Even monsters had people who loved them. I would know. So if you need to mourn him… then just mourn him.

Who gives a damn what people will say about it? People will always talk, Zewu-Jun. It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do, people will believe what they want to believe. So why let their opinions force you into repenting for something you didn’t even do? Let them think what they want to think. It is not a crime to be deceived. We all were. Why take the world on your shoulders when you don’t actually have to? And again, with all due respect Sect Leader Lan, if I, a family-less, alliance-less woman whose husband was the most reviled personage in the jianghu, who suffered the scorn of the cultivation world for over a decade, could raise my nephew on my own and build my sect back from literal ashes into one of the strongest and most respected once again, then you, who have a strong sect and people who love you, who believe in you and will support you no matter what… you can manage to live too.”

“Sect Leader Jiang…” Zewu-Jun was at a loss for words. What could he say? It only sounded selfish and petty to claim that he suffered more than she did, because he truly didn’t. She was right after all. Sect Leader Jiang was a remarkable woman. Life had not been kind to her. And...her words struck something within him. He felt ashamed. He hadn’t even thought about what it was like for her before this. He’d never offered her any support, but here she was trying to get him to live his life again without guilt. She, whose family most assuredly suffered because of his inaction, was here telling him to let it go, to not take responsibility. But how could he do that so easily?

“How did you do it? Sect Leader Jiang...” his voice cracked, “Can you ever forgive me, for the harm that my inaction caused you and your family?” Maybe if he heard it from her, maybe he could begin to forgive himself.

She sighed. “On my part, there is nothing to forgive Zewu-Jun. And so I can’t grant you forgiveness because you haven’t done me any wrong. But there are a few people who do deserve an apology from you. And your seclusion is a self-imposed punishment that you feel you deserve but at the end of the day, it does not actually do anything tangible when it comes to making amends to those who have been hurt.”

He was silent for a moment, stunned by her words. He hadn’t considered that his seclusion might have been causing others even more harm than he’d already done to them. Sect Leader Jiang was wise (she would disagree...she’d just learned from bitter experience in her opinion). He felt like he’d done her a great disservice all of these years, by not making an effort to reach out to her.

“Please, tell me. I.. I confess I no longer trust my judgement. I thought I knew A-Yao. I thought I was a good judge of character. I no longer know how to tell what is up from down. All I know is that I was so, so wrong about A-Yao. If you say that I have not harmed you then I am glad. I would hate to be the cause of more pain. You said that I am not responsible for A-Yao’s actions, and though it isn’t easy to believe that just yet, if there are those who I have truly wronged then please...please tell me. I still don’t know if I am ready to leave seclusion, if I even know how to, but I need to atone for my actions.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, “That’s the right attitude at least. So to start with I’d say you need to have a chat with Huaisang.”

His eyes widened, “I… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sect Leader Jiang.” His face darkened slightly. He wasn’t pleased with Huaisang at the moment. It felt like he never even knew him.

“And why not? Out of everyone, it’s Huaisang that you unintentionally hurt. And I don’t mean because of not listening to Nie Mingjue. His death was not your fault.” He was about to protest but she cut him off. “It wasn’t. I told you, stop taking responsibility for what isn’t your fault and own up to what is.”

He sighed heavily, “If it’s not about Da-ge then how did I wrong Huaisang?”

“Well for one, you’re still his Er-ge. Yet you seem to have forgotten that in lieu of what happened in the temple. Huaisang… has lost everyone. He may have been acting like a shady shit for the past however many years but… do you know what it’s like to be the last one of your family, Zewu-Jun? To have nobody beside you except subordinates?” He inhaled sharply. “I.. I hadn’t thought of that,” he said mournfully. How much did he just not consider? What kind of a person was he that he resented Huaisang for his deceit but yet did not consider for one moment that Huaisang may have done those things because he thought he was all alone and could not come to him for help? What kind of brother was he that his little brother could not confide in him? He should have been there for Huaisang, instead he had thought so highly of Jin Guangyao, even dismissing da-ge’s claims, that Huaisang had not dared to approach him with his suspicions.

Sect Leader Jiang was being very understanding however, “Zewu-Jun, I know you’re not pleased with Huaisang. I know there are many things that he’s done that are not right. I know there’s a possibility that he lied and forced your hand at the end. Believe me, I know the feeling...more than anyone, I know what it feels like to be deceived by someone you love...to kill someone you love. I know what it feels like when everyone praises you for it. Like you did such a great thing and you should be happy and celebrating with everyone else, except you can’t because your heart has shattered…has been ripped to shreds.

As someone who once loved a so-called monster...as someone who as good as killed that person with their own hands, I understand better than anyone what you’re going through. What Huaisang did was cruel, even though I’m glad Jin Guangyao is dead. It was cruel to have you be the one to end him. Huaisang likely knew that Jin Guangyao valued you. He knew it would be the worst end for him to be killed by your hand. I can’t speak for Huaisang, but I don’t believe he did it to hurt you, even though that’s inevitably what happened anyway. He did it to hurt Jin Guangyao. But even though it was not kind of him to have you be the arbiter of justice, he still deserves to have his Er-ge in his life.

She paused remembering the pain of losing her husband and sister all in one night.

She didn't have to imagine how Huaisang would have felt at losing the last member of his family at the hands of someone he cared about.“You and I aren’t the only ones who were deceived by someone we loved. Huaisang loved Jin Guangyao too, didn’t he? He loved and trusted him. When Nie Mingjue was getting worse, didn’t Huaisang trust and rely on both you and Jin Guangyao? It wasn’t a front. You were both dear to him. He loved him. He loved him and was betrayed by him in the worst way. And then yes, he orchestrated a whole convoluted plan to have him exposed and killed.

But you and I can both attest that justice, and even revenge, doesn’t stop the pain does it? Huaisang avenged his brother, but he lost another in the process, the same way you did. Don’t let him lose you too. You said you wronged Nie Mingjue by not listening to him. I think you’d wrong him even more if you left his little brother alone, without anyone to call family. You don’t have to forgive Huaisang right away, or at all if you don’t want to, but eventually you should at least try and reconcile with him. You’re his big brother... the only one left. And you know, Huaisang would have had the realisation that he was fooled by Jin Guangyao all on his own. But you don’t have to be alone.

Huaisang and you share the experience of being blinded by him. It would be much easier to talk to someone who has gone through the same things, no? Huaisang is there. And I am here. You don’t have to endure this on your own. We may not be very close Zewu-Jun, but we can understand each other, not so? So I’m here if you need someone to confide in. And Huaisang...Huaisang must be waiting too. For his Er-ge. You both owe each other apologies.”

By the time she was done speaking there were tears rolling down his face. She didn’t think it was quite appropriate given their positions, (though she was sort of his secret sister-in-law so really, he counted as family) but she moved over to his side and embraced him. If he was surprised he didn’t show it, only moving to cling to her more tightly and sob with a ferocity that had her a bit surprised. She wondered if this was the first time since the temple that he’d allowed himself to fully grieve what he had lost, without the guilt of letting his sworn brother die, killing the other one, and feeling bad for mourning for someone who he should hate.

Everyone praised him for killing Jin Guangyao however, it was something he didn’t want to be praised for. But what could he say? That he hated the fact that he killed him? He was right about one thing, if he ever said something like that people would most assuredly say he was complicit and probably want to implicate him. Jiang Cheng of all people knew how hard it was to listen to people praising you for a deed you were not proud of. And so she was the only person who would understand. The only person who would, who could, acknowledge the hurt it would have caused him to do what he did, especially if he was tricked into it.

His feelings about Huaisang would be complicated, but it wasn’t too late to reconcile as long as they were both alive.

She rubbed his back consolingly and just let him cry. It must have been no more than 15 minutes, but it felt much longer, before his tears slowed. When his sobs petered out he tried to compose himself. She let go of him and he embarrassedly turned away, sipping his tea. He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry Sect Leader Jiang, that was unbecoming of me.”

“Don’t mention it,” she waved off. She was there to help after all.

“I will give your words due consideration. It was remiss of me to forget that I was not the only one affected by A-Yao’s schemes. I truly regret not thinking of how Huaisang would have felt when he first found out. You are right. I have done my little brother a disservice,” he said, voice croaky from his bout of sobbing.

“You said that there were people I needed to apologise to. Who else have I wronged?” he continued. His respect and admiration for Sect Leader Jiang had grown exponentially since the start of this visit. He would take her words under advisement if he could.

“Oh Zewu-Jun,” she sighed, “What you’re doing with this seclusion, doesn’t it remind you of someone? Because it sure reminds your uncle.”

Zewu-Jun looked as if she had slapped him.

“Nobody would begrudge you needing time to grieve and to come to terms with what happened, it is human nature. It’s understandable. We were all blindsided. And I understand the wish to seclude yourself because I wish I could have as well, though I didn’t have the luxury,” she said, not unkindly but it made him wince anyway, “But it’s been too long. A few months would be okay, though grief will last longer than that, but more than that is just being unfair to others. You are the Sect Leader. Your uncle has already had to watch his brother shirk his duties and seclude himself from the world for the rest of his life.

Your uncle has had to pick up the slack. He raised you and your brother like a father would, while taking care of sect matters. None of those things were his responsibility yet he did it. And now… now he has to go through it all over again. Master Lan is elderly though and he cannot keep up with all of the duties required of an elder, teacher and now Sect Leader once more. And so that leads me to the last person that you have wronged.

Lan Zhan is Chief Cultivator now, did you know? His duties are myriad and yet he has to come back here and help Master Lan run the sect. It pains Master Lan to see history repeating itself. A younger brother once again has to take the reins from his older brother and he does it without complaint, because he loves you. But it is unfair to A-Zhan. He can’t live his own life because he’s too busy living yours. He’s barely managing to keep up with both sets of duties, but he’s doing it for you. It has been two years, Zewu-Jun. He worries so much about you, as does your uncle. It pains them to see you this way. And so Sect Leader Lan,” she pointedly used his rank, “I beg of you to consider leaving your seclusion. You have people who love you waiting for you. Your family needs you.”

His eyes were glittering once more, but no tears were shed this time. He swallowed thickly. The past few months it had seemed as if he was living in a fog. He’d barely managed to keep his routine up, it was only through decades of strict routine that he’d gotten himself off the bed and eaten his food and meditated everyday on his shortcomings. But it seemed that while he was doing that he’d missed quite a few. Because she was right wasn’t she? He hid himself away like a coward and didn’t even think about how it would affect Wangji and Uncle. He hadn’t even considered how hurt his uncle would feel to see him go down the same route as his father.

Her words were like a splash of cold water. It seemed to wake him up; it got him out of the daze he was in. If this woman before him could raise a child and a sect from the ashes all alone after going through more tragedy than a hundred people in one lifetime would...he could get himself in gear and do what he had to do. He felt ashamed in front of her. She was right that she didn’t have the luxury to seclude herself. But he did. He did, and he took advantage of the support system that he had to take time for himself. More time than he should have.

She said it was understandable, and maybe it was, but she was also right that it should not have been going on for this long. He had no desire to be Qingheng-Jun the second. But if she hadn’t come here today… if she hadn’t said all that she had said… He would not have even thought of those things. He was too busy thinking of himself. It was likely that he would have stayed for years in his seclusion, just ruminating on what went wrong and what he could have changed. It was all too easy to get caught up in could-have-beens.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he said, devastated at the thought of his uncle, the man who raised him when he didn’t have to, who did his best to prevent them from turning out like their father, thinking that he had failed when it was Lan Xichen who failed, “I’ve heard you loud and clear. But…”

“But?”

“But I don’t know if I even know how to go about being Sect Leader anymore. I feel like the decisions I make would be questionable now. How can I trust that I will do what’s best for the sect? I have already failed in so many ways. Now I have failed Wangji and Uncle too.”

“What did I tell you? You’re not alone Zewu-Jun. You don’t have to leave seclusion immediately. You don’t even have to start doing everything right away. Ease back into it. Your family will be there to help you. I’m offering to help you. If you need to talk about things that you can’t with them, you can write to me. Master Qiren should not have to be taking on these responsibilities any longer and A-Zhan needs to have time to breathe...his own position is challenging enough. Besides you haven’t failed, you’ve just had some setbacks is all. Failure would be wallowing in self-pity forever and leaving everyone else to do your duties indefinitely,” she looked at him pointedly. He got the hint.

“Okay Sect Leader Jiang. I shall take you up on that then. But I do have a question if you’ll indulge me,” he said.

“Shoot.”

“I mean no offense at all, in fact I’m actually extremely grateful for your concern, but I am curious….why do you even care? You didn’t have to do any of this. I’m well aware that you have your own duties and worries. Why bother about mine?”

She smiled for the first time since she walked into the Hanshi. He was struck by it. It had been a long time since he’d seen her smile... truly smile. In fact, the last time he’d seen a smile as bright as that on her face was probably right here in the Cloud Recesses when she was a student.

“You may not remember it, Zewu-Jun, but there was a time Jin Guangshan sought to marry me off. It was your words of support for me, against that awful Sect Leader Yao, that saved my skin, though they still called me Wife of the Yiling Demon after that. But at least I was only his wife. I will be eternally grateful to you for that. It was thanks to your words that nobody else tried to make me marry. I was able to focus on my sect in relative peace. It was a kindness that I have never been able to repay until now, though you shouldn’t think that it is only because of repayment.”

She got up and dusted off her clothes perfunctorily.

“I shall take my leave now, Zewu-Jun.”

“Please, call me Xichen,” he said, thinking that after all of the things that were said that day, she might as well.

“Well then, Xichen you may call me Wanyin. Thank you for hearing me out and please forgive me for barging in unexpectedly. I have intruded upon your hospitality long enough.”

“It is no matter,” he said, and for the first time in a long while he was able to manage a weak smile, “I was honored by your company. If you did not give me so much to think about, I would offer you some more tea.”

She laughed, “Thank you Xichen, but I will be missed soon anyway. I do not need to cause an uproar in Cloud Recesses if they can’t find a Sect Leader. Plus the scandal that would happen if someone other than A-Zhan or A-Yuan finds me in here will not be pleasant.”

“A-Zhan?” he raised an eyebrow, “Is there something I should know about, Wanyin?”

She snorted and threw him a cheeky smirk, “If you want to find out you’ll have to come to Lotus Pier.” And with that she saw herself out, leaving nothing but the scent of lotuses behind her.

Huh. Well then. How curious. He’d thought that Wangji had gone off with Wei Wuxian, who he’d been in love with since he met him. How did Sect Leader Jiang factor into this? As far as he knew they didn’t even particularly like each other. It seemed like he missed quite a lot while he was in seclusion. Was his little brother in a love triangle? It would explain why Wanyin said that he shouldn’t only think of her visit as repayment to him. It wasn’t the purest motivation but huh maybe he would leave seclusion after all. His brother might need support in more ways than one. Sect Leader Lan leaving seclusion because he was too invested in his brother’s love life was a hilarious thought, and for the first time in two years, he chuckled mirthfully to himself. Maybe he would be okay after all.

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Scythes And Stories - Chapter 6 - Twists Of Fate

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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“So you’re telling me that… you are the escaped princess of Solis?” Alastair said slowly, trying to parse out the truth of the words. Ariadne nodded. “And that this is the infamous assassin, the Lady of Death?” Thomas continued, cutting his gaze towards Anna. “I’m flattered that you’ve heard of me, all the way here in Luna.” Anna chimed in. She was currently sprawled across the couch of the boat’s hold, playing with a bone dagger. “Of course we’ve heard of you. You’re either more stupid than you look, or truly ignorant of how much you’ve been employed by the Luna Council.” Alastair smirked, clearly reveling in Anna’s widened eyes and shocked expression. “I’m going to continue this discussion, because obviously these two nitwits wouldn’t bother too.” Cordelia interjected, grinning in response to Alastair’s glare. “If I am correct in my assumptions, you are Lucie Herondale.” she said, gesturing towards Lucie. “That is correct.” Lucie said, mock-curtseying. “So you must be the mysterious and handsome stranger she eloped with.” Cordelia finished, raising her eyebrows at Matthew. “That would be the truth. I am so very pleased that the general knowledge of me is my dashingness.” Matthew said, tipping his hat. “Ignore him.” Lucie stage whispered. “His ego’s gone to his head a bit of late.”

“Well. This is certainly news to me. Everyone thinks you are dead, Princess, and nobody knows the whereabouts of you, my lady.” Thomas said, standing from his seat. “I do wonder what casualties shall befall me if my husband and I decide to give you shelter.”

“Oh I swear we’re nothing but the utmost fun.” Anna said with a smile as sharp as swords. “I can vouch for her!” Matthew chimed in, mischief in his eyes. Ariadne and Lucie sighed in unison as Cordelia snickered. “Yes but they don’t trust either of you, so shut up.” Lucie said, laughing. “All we ask for is shelter for a bit. The world outside is quite chaotic and it would be good to take a breath.” Ariadne said, eyes pleading. “We will take you in.” Thomas finally agreed. “Only if you promise to participate in our drinks night.” James said, mock seriousness in his voice. “You’ll have a far harder time convincing those two to stay away now that you’ve mentioned it.” Ariadne said, gesturing towards Matthew and Anna. “Now, if you wish it, we will retire to our chambers and cause you no more trouble.”

“Is there anything else we can get you while you stay here?” Thomas asked them as they strolled through the city streets. The brick roads were baked in the heat, worn by the feet of a thousand steps. Spices laced the air - nutmeg, basil, and fresh fruit. Thomas had quite quickly fallen into the role of gracious host as Alastair and Anna bantered and the others chattered. “Not unless you can bring back my long lost brother from the abyss.” Anna answered, and silence fell. Cordelia turned to Anna however, brows furrowed. “What does your brother look like?” She inquired, concentration deepening as she gazed at Anna as if she were a puzzle. “Well, he has purple eyes. And he would be around my age, maybe a bit younger.” Anna answered, clearly baffled. James stopped walking right in the middle of the street as him and Cordelia made eye contact. Thomas and Alastair also exchanged gazes. “Is there anything you four would like to share, or are you going to continue to communicate telepathically for the rest of the day.” Anna asked, shifting. She was quite unfamiliar with the warm blooming in her chest like a rose, shining and glowing like a weapon fresh off the forge. It was hope, hope that maybe she wasn’t crazy for the first time in her life.

Shaking herself, Cordelia turned to Anna. “Unless there’s a large amount of purple-eyed teenage fugitives on the run for our kingdom…”

“We have your brother. He arrived just a few days before you. Shivering and sweating and grinning like a banshee. He also claimed to have murdered the king of Solis. On that precedent alone, we allowed him to stay. He’s in his quarters now.”

Anna froze. She could feel the frost of shock spreading slowly over her skin as she struggled to form words. After all these years, all this time, she found him. Her brother with his love of science and the rare, genuine smile that always summoned a smile from her in return. A warm hand slipped into hers. Turning her head, Anna’s eyes met Ariadne’s. The silent encouragement in Ariadne’s eyes nearly brought Anna to tears. “May I- May I see him?” Anna asked tentatively, afraid some cruel god would snatch him away before she could see him. “Of course you can.” Thomas said, understanding in his tone. “Just this way. We’ll arrive back at the castle in approximately 15 minutes. From there, I’ll give you a guide to his rooms.”

“Thank you so much.” Anna whispered. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

“None needed, Lady of Death. Everyone deserves loved ones to hold close. Sadly, sometimes the world has other plans. We’re just glad you made your way back to the hearth.” Alastair said quietly, and the others all nodded. From that point on, they were all friends. After all, a friendship forged when you are the version of yourself you hate to show are the strongest friendships of all.

“Mr. Christopher, you’ve a visitor.” the guide called, knocking on the heavy wooden door embossed with a crescent moon. “They may come in.” Came the response from within the room, and Anna’s eyes widened. If there had been any doubt in her mind, none was left now. The decades passed and sands of time could not erase the sound of her brother’s voice from her head. Anna opened the door, and slipped inside, closing it behind her. The boy on the bed looked up, hair messed over his eyes and papers strewn over every possible surface. It didn’t take long for the question in his face turned into confusion, then shock, then wonder. All in the span of just a few moments. “Christopher?” Anna breathed, not daring to take a step forward lest he should evaporate like a mirage. “... Anna? Is that you?” Christopher replied, voice also quiet and strung through with lights of amazement. “Yes, it’s me. It’s Anna!” she replied, joy cracking her face. Christopher’s face morphed again then, and he stood and strode forward. Finally, after so many miles of pain and oceans of blood and battle, they were here. Embracing in a hug and words left unsaid flew, the pair had found each other again.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too! I thought I’d never see you again….”

“I thought the same! They took me away, and I wasn’t able to look for you.”

“That is ok. I doubt you would recognize the me you found anyway.”

“The same could be said of me. It took me years of planning and work, but I finally struck back.”

“And I am more proud of you than I could say. I too have blood on my hands, but I hope that staining them deeper won’t ever be necessary again. If needed, I will fight to make it so.”

Drawing back, Anna examined Christopher and smiled deeply. “You’ve grown into a fine young man. A far throw from the gangly boy I knew. If only mother and father could see you now…” Anna trailed off as a shade of grey permeated the otherwise yellow bright moment. “And you as well.” Christopher said, his wonder saving the memory. “You’re glowing. You look happy. Content.” he added, grinning. “I am… I’ve found a life worth fighting for. But more about me later. We have much catching up to do, dear brother.” Dropping into the armchair by the fireplace, Anna relaxed. Christopher sat on the bed, only succeeding in making his piles of sketches even more messy. “Tell me. What have you been doing these past years we’ve been apart? I am quite certain it’s a grand tale.”

“Now I must confess I’m dying to know how you ended up on the run with the most infamous assassin in five kingdoms.” James said to Ariadne as the two, accompanied by Alastair, Thomas, and Cordelia sat in the royal common room. It was a set of large and comfortable rooms for the royal family to relax and have fun in. Ariadne chuckled quietly, thinking over the chaos of the tale herself. “I couldn’t hardly put it into words for you myself. I had been long since questioning my parents’ actions and the way they behaved around anybody without a large purse or a legitimate heir. I just didn’t know what it was I could do about it. I trained myself, yes. In bladework and poisons and a myriad of other things. But these skills languished in my arsenal, so to speak. I was not allowed to do anything I loved, contained in the palace and all it’s parties.” Ariadne paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The day they forced me into an arranged marriage with somebody I despise was my breaking point. Anna appeared, and it was like she was the escape I was looking for. The escape dressed in black with a dagger, that is.”

Cordelia’s thoughts raced, connecting the dots quickly and smothering her grin. The way Ariadne used Anna’s first name, how her eyes and voice softened at the mention of her, how she would always smile. The quick gazes and hidden laughs. Turning to James, she raised her eyebrows and nearly fell over laughing at his responding smirk. James was observant and had apparently also been quick to notice what she had. “I wish them all the happiness and wishes.” Cordelia vowed, before tuning her ears back into Ariadne’s story.

“So, I agreed to go with her. I set fire to the barracks before we joined up with Matthew and Lucie. Lucie was confined within a loveless marriage, so she was also eager to leave. Anna staged my death, and we set sail. Matthew delivered the note and… here we are.” Ariadne finished, leaninging back in her chair and smiling. “Not the most exciting tale in the books, but it’s my story, so I will cherish it within my heart.”

“On the contrary, I believed that story most riveting.” Cordelia piped up, leaning forward. “There remains only one question.” James said, standing. “Would you and Lady Anna be interested in joining us for dinner tonight? Christopher is also invited, of course”

“We would be most honored to have you.” Thomas added.

“I would be delighted to.” Ariadne smiled. “Anna is I’m sure still talking to Christopher, but when she returns to our chambers, I will extend the invitation.”

“Tell her there will be wine and games!” Alastair called to Ariadne as she exited. “I will tell her. I could never forgive myself and I doubt she would forgive me if she missed out on such an opportunity.”

Once Ariadne had vanished down the hall, the four sat in quiet. “I like her.” Thomas finally said, his voice betraying how deep in thought he was. “I do as well. I’m very glad she was able to find herself a place where she’s truly happy.” Cordelia added. “As much as I’d like to stay and gossip about our new arrivals, I’ve some matters to attend to.” Alastair said, standing. “I’ll come with you.” Thomas replied.

Sighing with a bit too much gusto to be believable, Alastair nodded assent. “I guess we will get these chores done quicker together.” he said, accepting Thomas’s extended hand. “Yes I’m sure that’s why.”

“O do shut up.” Alastair shot back, and soon their voices faded.

“Would you like to take a stroll with me, my fine warrior?” James asked Cordelia, eyes twinkling. “I would love to, James.” Cordelia replied, a small smile twisting her lips. “Well, then, let us go. The winding paths of the park await us.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” Ariadne said as she flopped onto the bed of their quarters. Matthew and Lucie had been assigned a door across the hall. “Life does bring us much surprise.” Anna shot back, kicking off her boots. “Did you and Christopher have a pleasing chat?” Ariadne ventured cautiously. “We most certainly did.” Anna replied, slipping back into that soft smile. “He’s grown up so much, Ariadne. So much. And it hurts and heals my heart simultaneously to see it.” Anna said, much quieter this time. “I know you grieve for memories lost, and I understand it. It is right to feel pain, right to grieve. Just make sure you’re not missing out on a chance to make new memories while grieving the past.” Ariadne said, once again gently holding Anna’s hand. “What did I do to deserve you?” Anna asked. “You set me free.” Ariadne answered, and Anna grinned. “And I am very glad I did. Now, what’s this dinner party you mentioned?”

“Oh yes! We are invited to dinner with Cordelia, James, Thomas, and Alastair. Christopher will also be there I believe. Alastair requests I tell you that there will be wine and games.”

‘Well in that case, I’m in.” Anna said jokingly, and Ariadne laughed again, a musical sound to Anna’s ears. “In that case, I will see you in about a half-hour at the party.” Standing, Anna kissed Ariadne softly before breaking apart and bolting for the showers. Sighing and filled with happy butterflies, Ariadne also stood and began to change. “It’s the beginning of a new age. And I’ll be damned if I keep wearing the shackles I just escaped.”

“To new friends, and old. To shining futures and pasts laid to rest in unmarked graves. This is now, and it’s for living and love. I give thanks for the wondrous new souls we’ve met, and the tales they brought with them.” Thomas toasted, raising his champagne elegantly. Everybody else raised their glasses in silent succession, toasting to everything Thomas mentioned and more. And then, the party began. It was in the private royal dining room, and it came with a ballroom. Thomas and Alastair had invited some other close friends and family, and Cordelia and James had done the same. All had been instructed on the situation, and planned to be discreet. A large number of suits and dresses had been delivered to Anna, Ariadne, Matthew, and Lucie, along with a note saying they could choose any one of the options. The rooms were full of life, shining and glittering and shifting. Champagne sparkled and fragrant scents of roasted meats and delicate creamed desserts rose up. Lively violin music flowed from the ballroom, and each person was a vision in velvet and satin, a walking kaleidoscope of dancing and laughing and color. Anna and Ariadne danced, quick as quicksilver and breathless with happiness. Anna was wearing a finely cut suit of ebony and snow white, while Ariadne was resplendent in a twilight blue gown that sparkled with stars and twirled as she did. “You are as gorgeous as an angel.” Anna called as she twirled Ariadne. “And you look like a goddess sent to Earth.” Ariadne called back, cheeks flushed with the blush of life. “Oh stop I might actually blush for once.” Anna said, bringing Ariadne close before dramatically dipping her. “What a sight that would be.” Ariadne mocked, laughing. “Maybe someday, I’ll get to witness this amazing phenomena.”

“You can keep hoping, Princess.” Anna replied, laughing as Ariadne lightly smacked her. “I think I will. After all, we’ve got plenty of time.”

The previous song had ended with a dramatic flourish, paving the way for a slower and more romantic piece. Alastair and Thomas slowly danced, staring into each other’s eyes. “What a week it has been. And it’s only been the first week.” Thomas said as the pair revolved on the dance floor. “Indeed. It might be awhile before we have any semblance of peace again.” Alastair replied. “Even you can't deny that you like our newcomers.” Thomas snarked back, no true bite in his voice. “I do, much to my dismay. I can admit they are fun and Anna especially is very fun. At least she knows how to drink and have fun, unlike you.” Alastair shot back, chuckling. “Oh shut up you. I'm plenty of fun.” Thomas said, affecting a wounded air. “I suppose you can be, but-” Thomas cut Alastair off and kissed him, holding him even closer. Alastair, drunk on happiness, held Thomas close as they kissed and the violins played a song of hearts broken and mended, souls torn and sewed back together.

Cordelia and James sat along the wall, laughing and joking with Lucie and Matthew. The squad had quickly become fast friends. Cordelia leaned forward and kissed James, while Matthew wolf whistled and Lucie slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up. The scene could be described as perfect, if such a thing exists. Music and songs and beauty and, most importantly of them all, new beginnings. What the future held was a mystery, and what the past held was unchangeable. But the now… well the now was whatever the people living in it made it. And everybody present at that party had chosen to make it something glowing with love and happiness and the treasured thing that is friendship. Twists of fate and acts of free will were what brought these people together, but it was their choice to stay. They could’ve shunned each other, torn themselves to bits and pieces while laughing. They could’ve betrayed who was supposed to be their enemies - stabbed them in the back and ran before they could be found by the accusing eyes of their victims. They could’ve done all of this, and more. But they didn’t - they chose to do the opposite. To nurture the compassion in their souls, the love blooming in their hearts. To make friends and lovers and family who would stand by them through the storm of the future, the unknown, and anything else that could be thought of.

[kaaras-adaar-a]

He did not know when the world would end, when the Dread Wolf would raise his head again, so in those quiet moments in between chaos and the unknown, he wanted to love.

Characters: Kaaras Adaar, The Iron Bull Post-Trespasser Warning: Contains adult themes, profanity

The air was like ice to his skin, frost puffing from his nostrils with every breath as the sun had barely risen. He could even feel his lips sting as he licked them with a warm tongue, tasting the sharpness of frost. He could smell it, too. The scent of home. Ferelden. It was hard to describe what the cold air tasted and smelled like. And no, it wasn’t the scent of dog, like everyone claimed. Sure, Fereldans certainly liked their hounds, especially their mabari war hounds, but mabari were not something one saw on a regular basis. They were special hounds, bred for war. The only dogs that would be seen here were common hunting hounds or retrievers. And right now, there wasn’t a single one in sight, not that one could see far considering the thick fog that crossed the fields and hills.

The sharp chill caused Kaaras’ arm to ache, where the anchor had once been. He was still getting used to it, even though it had been months since he’d seen Solas, since he’d been in Halamshiral… since he’d been the Inquisitor. 

The thought made him feel hollow on the inside, like a large part of himself was missing. He’d allowed the last few years to consume him, his title, his purpose Now, without it… it was difficult to lead a normal life once more.

Oh, there was nothing normal about Kaaras Adaar. He’d been a war hero, he’d been the man to stop Corypheus and his demon army, and the world would never forget his tale. But it still felt so strange to be away from it all. The companions, even if they were never truly too far away from him. He could always trust Leliana knowing of his whereabouts, Cassandra close in tow. Cullen had also returned to Ferelden, so it was easy enough to catch up with him. The rest, letters were common enough between them, and it wasn’t like Kaaras could ever take his ‘uniform’ off. How could he when Thedas still needed him? They might not know it, but something much bigger was coming, and when the time came, the Inquisition would be there--he would be there.  

Kaaras knew, even before the Exalted Council, that he could never abandon the Inquisition, that he could never abandon Thedas. So let the public think that they had disbanded, let them believe that they had put away their swords, but they were still working hard, putting together a force to fight when the time would come. After all, it was not in his nature to simply give up.

He had given the Inquisition his all. He had served Thedas, helped those in need. He couldn’t abandon that now, not when he knew that they would need them again. The choice to disband had been one of the hardest things in his life, and yet… he knew it was right. He knew that Ferelden had a point. So be the hero while they needed him to be, and put the sword down when the time was right. They had served their purpose, they had defeated Corypheus and restored order. Let them remember the Inquisition for the good deeds that they had done, not for the corruption and power that would soon devour it if they allowed Solas and his people to infiltrate. It was the safest thing to do, but the right thing to do by everyone else as well. His companions, his soldiers, they had paid their price. He could not take them from their lives anymore, their families and friends. 

Resting his hand against the wooden railing of the balcony, his fingers brushed at the icicles that had formed. Snow was yet to come, but it would be here soon; he could feel it in the air. A few more weeks, perhaps, and the entirety of all he could see across the fields would be covered in white, and the poor, little tavern that they were in would be having it rough. Not many tourists or traders came this way for holidays. A few stray travellers maybe, such as themselves, but that would be all. Such was the life of Fereldans. A hardy bunch, but often struggling to make a living. 

Kaaras was used to it. His whole life, he’d had to work hard, harder than most considering his grey skin and horns. People never much liked to give him a chance, and they either stared at him in fear or awe. Sometimes it was both. He’d made it this far, though, and he’d heard just about every insult that could be thrown in his direction. After a while, his skin grew thicker, but it didn’t take much to know that he was soft beneath it all. 

The view before him was simple but beautiful. He should have been colder than he was, but this was the weather he’d grown up in, and he was far better at tolerating the cold than he’d ever been at dealing with the heat. Even now, he stood outside on the balcony in nothing but a pair of woollen socks and a gown wrapped around him, his shins victim to the cold chill. 

Suddenly, he was pulled from his thoughts as two strong hands made their way around his waist from behind. It startled him, but he was held in place as he felt Bull’s body press up against his. 

“You’d better have some pants on…” he teased, pressing himself against the thick of Bull’s chest. 

Bull laughed. Of course he had pants on, but only because it was so fucking cold out here. “Where’d the fun in that be?” The Iron Bull replied, a hand moving down Kaaras’ arm and overlapping his lover’s knuckles. “It’d be a pleasant view, to you and everyone else. Better than this damn cold.” Bull grumbled to himself then. “And I thought Orlais was cold…” 

“It is,” Kaaras chuckled, though he also looked back just to make sure Bull was actually wearing something. Thank the Maker he was. Nobody was up yet anyway--otherwise Kaaras probably would have properly dressed himself as well. He supposed being with Bull had made him a tad bit more confident, although he still didn’t like the idea of most of his skin showing on any given day. He was truly a private individual. 

Bull’s thick fingers intertwined with his own on top of the cold wood as he felt warm lips brush up against the side of his neck, just behind his ear. It tickled and had his cheeks warming, a tingle going all through his body. It didn’t take much to get him going, but he adored Bull’s affections when he was wanting to give it. 

“I can still smell the oils from last night's bath on you. How is it that you always smell so damn good, Kadan?” Another hand moved over Kaaras’ shoulder and down beneath what remained of his mangled arm, wrapping around the front to pull the former Inquisitor into an embrace of sorts. Bull had gotten used to waking in a bed beside the other qunari now, and some mornings still caught him by surprise. Pleasant surprise of course. This had never been a life he thought he could lead--a real romantic relationship, one he had found love with. One he could feel so devoted to outside of the Qun. Now… now, the man in his arms was his life, the one he fought for and beside. There were still days where Bull felt himself a monster, a savage with no control, especially ever since he had been stated Tal’Vashoth, but there was one constant in his life, and that was Kaaras. He was what kept him grounded, just as much as Bull was for Kaaras when he needed support and someone to keep his feet steady. 

The blush on Kaaras’ cheeks only lingered, a coy smile spreading across thin lips. Even after the last few years, Bull still made him blush as if it were his first time. Turning over his shoulder, he gently pressed his head against Bull’s before he planted a soft peck onto his lips in response. 

“I do it just to rile you up,” he jested, though gasped when Bull pressed himself up against him and pinned him to the balcony. If his blush had been coy before, it was certainly flustered now, long ears flicking downward. He would have caught himself with both hands before, but instead, the limb twitched, like it was going to, but nothing came of it and he was a little lopsided because of it. 

It made him feel uneasy, the lack of control. Not because of Bull--it had nothing to do with his lover--but because he’d always been such an independent person. Now he felt… hopeless at times. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like asking for help (although that was true, too), it was more the fact that Kaaras hated to feel like he was burdening others.

It had taken a long time for Kaaras to come to terms with his dismemberment. The mental and physical struggles had been hard to overcome, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be entirely over it. If it weren’t for Bull’s reassurance (being disabled himself), and Dagna’s hard efforts into making him a prosthetic, he wasn’t sure how far he’d come from it all. Kaaras knew what it was like to be in a dark place from his adolescence, and he pushed himself to never fall back into that darkness. Maker, it had been hard. Without the strength of his lover, he may have fallen. 

Mostly, Kaaras missed being able to hold Bull, to feel him in the palm of his hand, to brush his fingers against his skin or… something else. Clearly Bull noticed the reaction, because the next thing he felt was a strong hand gently moving across the muscle on his arm, just above where his elbow was. 

“Hey, you know you’re perfect the way you are, yeah?” 

Kaaras turned around so he could face Bull now, a saddened smile across his eyes. “I know you say that…”

“Yeah, I do.” He lifted Kaaras’ hand and pressed the man’s knuckles to his lips. Bull also knew that him saying it wouldn’t bring Kaaras’ limb back, nor would it make him feel like he was perfect or complete. Words didn’t always make everything better, hell, sometimes they made shit worse. But Bull was here to let Kaaras know that he wasn’t worthless because he’d been butchered by some ancient bastard. He supposed he could have been angrier, Solas could have killed his lover. Then he’d be everything the Qun taught him he’d be: a savage monster, ready to kill. Alas, he’d not been with Solas those last few moments before he disappeared, but something told the warrior that Solas was on a mission to destroy himself. And if he didn’t, he’d be there to do it for him.  

“And I mean it when I say it.” Bull’s other hand moved to cup the stubble-covered cheek, a thumb brushing over the scar on the mage’s bottom lip. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, Kadan. The bravest, and kindest.” Hell, he was willing to forgive Solas when he knew he’d never have that kind of strength, let alone kindness. 

“Sexiest, too…”

Kaaras breathed a laugh at that. “I think the cold’s gotten to you.”

Bull smirked. “I’m feeling pretty hot actually, if you get my drift.” The warrior wiggled his brows, the patch that usually covered his marred eye back inside, having been discarded somewhere last night. That was a future issue he’d deal with. Right now, he wanted to concentrate on the beautiful man that stood before him, wrapped in a tedious gown that should be stripped off immediately so he could devour every inch of him from head to toe. 

“Why don’t we get out of this cold before my nipples snap off, and before you get frostbite on your tootsies.” 

Kaaras looked down. “I was smart enough to wear socks,” he pointed out, raising a brow as he eyed Bull’s shirtlessness. It was no one's fault but Bull’s that he was cold. Bull grumbled in response, which only made him respond with  an amused look.

“Well, we could stand out here all morning and argue who’s more dressed than the other, and how damn cold it is, or we could go inside and lay by a warm fire. I’m pretty sure I know which one I’d rather do.” 

Kaaras chuckled, his hand moving to Bull’s and holding it. “Alright, alright,” he smiled, jutting his chin in the direction of the door. Bull happily opened it and stepped back inside, Kaaras following. The difference between inside and out was stark. Even if the fire that had been going last night was nothing but embers now, the temperature was still much warmer.

He felt Bull’s hand leave his as he picked up a few logs and put them in, stoking the fire to restart. Despite being around magic for so long, Bull still didn’t rely on it. Nor did Kaaras, if he were honest. He had always been taught to never rely solely on his magical abilities. If he was stuck in a sticky situation, one which would get him into trouble, or one with magebane, then it would not bode well for him to rely upon his talents as a mage. Even as a skilled mage, Kaaras had always used it only when he needed to--aside from his training and meditation. It was no surprise that Bull stoked the fire without asking for his assistance, and Kaaras hardly took any kind of offence. 

Moving to the bed, he took a seat at the edge, fingers brushing thick furs. The tavern was no fancy palace or estate that he may have been used to spending his last few years in. In fact, this was far more like the years before being Inquisitor. It was humble, cosy and if Kaaras were honest, comfortable. This was his core being. There was little more Fereldan one could get than feeling the furs on the beds, the fire bouncing off old, wooden walls. All he needed was a slice of cheese and a warm cuppa.

His eyes watched as Bull awakened the fire, just watching as his lover moved, the flicker of light off thick muscle as the sun began to rise above the treeline outside now. Strong, mentally and physically, but surprisingly soft Bull was. He might never admit it, but he was far more romantic than he gave himself credit for. It had been a large risk for him to accept Bull’s company that one evening over three years ago. He had been terrified, terrified of getting hurt, of making some kind of a mistake, but Bull had proven to be one of the most caring and compassionate people he’d ever known. He was hardly the monster that he made himself out to be, the thing. He was a person just like anyone else, and so much more than that. 

“There. That’s better.” Bull stood back up as the fire roared back to life from the fresh kindling and logs. As he stood, he cracked his back and stretched his arms before he turned to see Kaaras on the bed. 

“You okay, Kadan?”

Ruby eyes looked up to catch Bull’s eye. “Hm? Yes, I’m…” Kaaras hummed through his nostrils and shook his head. “Never better, really. I’ve got a warm fire before me, a comfortable bed and most importantly, you as my company.” He outstretched his arm, beckoning for Bull to come and lay down with him. To spend the morning together before they were back on the road. Moments like this had felt rare when he was the Inquisitor, a calm moment he could share with his lover. Now, whilst he could, he wanted to take every chance he could with Bull. To never miss an opportunity, a moment to love and cherish him. He did not know when the world would end, when the Dread Wolf would raise his head again, so in those quiet moments in between chaos and the unknown, he wanted to love.

It took mere seconds for Bull to be on the bed beside him, laying down facing one another. Bull propped himself up onto his elbow so his horn wouldn’t scratch at the head of the bed, or kink his neck too much. 

A large hand moved to cup Kaaras’ cheek, Bull looking between each of those deep, red eyes. “You helped me find my purpose without the Qun, Kadan. I’ll help you find yours without the Inquisition.”

Kaaras’ eyes lowered for a moment, watching Bull’s lips so he didn’t have to look him in the eye, until Bull’s hand moved and propped his chin up so he had no choice. He wanted to say that that had been different, but it hadn’t, had it. They had both lost a part of themselves. For Bull, it had been so much more. He’d lost his home, his culture, his identity--even if he’d been living as a Tal’Vashoth for years. The reality of no longer being welcome, no longer having those contacts to a place called home? Kaaras only felt part of that, but the Inquisition had become a home, a family to him. Perhaps that made him a weak leader, too compassionate and comfortable. But he missed it all, and would continue to do so for a very long time.

Awkwardly, he shuffled himself so that his hand could take Bull’s. He should have attached his prosthetic, but he wanted to be warmer before he did that. The cold made his arm ache and the skin was stiff. 

“I believe you.” He meant what he said. His hand moved lower, tracing down the cord around Bull’s neck to feel the smoothness of the dragon tooth necklace that hung between his thick bosoms. “No matter how far apart, we’ll always be together.” 

“Damn straight.” Bull pressed a kiss against the man’s lips, pulling him closer and tangling their legs. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny or any of that shit, but he sure as hell believed in Kaaras Adaar.

[sargentr]

my fave drarry fics of all time, part one

so, after discovering i’ve officially been reading drarry fanfic for 4 years now, i decided to show my (quite big) list of favorite drarry fics. there are 46 in total, but i’ve listed 10 down below. the first three are my absolute favorites but the rest are equally as good

most of my notes are fresh from when i wrote them post-reading. i’ve changed some, seeming less like a crazy unstable bitch, but fuck these were all emotional as fuck. enjoy

ps: i dont really know how to tag people i dont follow. i cant try and tag the authors later. soz!!

pps: most of these i read when i was really into a bottom!draco phase, so most of them contain that, some are switch tho (as it should be, yikes past me)

1. Everything That Happen is From Now On / ~43K 

After surviving a brutal assault, Draco tries to navigate the tumultuous waters of his mind, and embrace a bit of love and trust in his life. After all, the smallest steps forward can begin to heal the most fractured of souls

okay so before i get in to how beautiful this story is, i wanna say that it does touch on rape quite explicitly. i cried like an idiot reading the entire thing, because draco’s pain is navigated in the most beautiful and realistic way. it touches on a subject very risky for me, very personal, and i still can’t think of a better drarry story. draco’s very draco about it all, and harry is very harry about it all. it’s just perfect, and messy, and tender, and sad. i’ve reread it more than any other fic, and it doesn’t disappoint. 

2. Pocket Full of Starlight / ~46K

When Scorpius Malfoy and Jamie Potter meet at Quidditch camp, they take an instant dislike to each other. Then they discover their lives are more connected than they could possibly imagine.

ah yes. the magic of kid fics. the TASTE

parent trap au. i read this one recently, like 3 months back, and absolutely fell in love with everything about it, partially because the parent trap is legit one of my top 10 favorite movies of all time. its just. the essence, the IDEA, is soooo mf beautiful. i cant get enough of reading when harry or draco finally meet the other twin, or how they cant stop loving each other even after 11 years. my heart clenched throughout the whole thing. 

3. Temptations on the Warfront / ~180K

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes. 

this was the first drarry fic ive ever read, and before this mf i HATEDDD this pairing. so you can imagine how much it took to convince me otherwise, bc i was 100% scorbus before this.

to be fair, horcrux hunting with draco involved is, possibly, my favorite trope ever. its unique. theres tension, both sexual and life threatening. in some ways it romanticizes the war, but fuck it it aint a real war. 

slowest of burns. amazing. life changing. long as hell. nothing else to be said except read it right now i demand it.

4. Clouding the Senses / ~58K

As everyone returns to Hogwarts for a final eighth year, some people are coping better with the aftermath of the war than others. After encountering a very drunk Draco Malfoy one night, Harry realises that maybe those that lost loved ones aren’t the only ones trying to escape the war. Blaise Zabini seems to think Harry can help Malfoy, that the Slytherin might actually listen to him. Harry is not so sure. Dependence is a tricky thing, and one addiction can quickly shift to another.

everyone that reads drarry loves 8th year fics, but this ones just kinda different from all those normal (yet entertaining) ones. draco’s an alcoholic in this, and one night harry tries to help him and whoops, one thing leads to the other and they start having casual sex. its really, really amazing how both draco and harry navigate the addiction, i really cant say it has any flaws. 

i know the author got a lot of hate on their fics and thats why they took them down, but they’re truly one of the best drarry authors out there. i’ve reread this a couple of times, and the tenderness, the love and confusion is all very on character. a+

5. Restraint / ~153K

Someone casts the Imperius curse on Draco Malfoy, and whatever the instructions may be, Harry finds himself an unwilling target. The encounter leaves him torn between pleasure and revulsion. As they fight in the aftermath, a tense game begins. Harry fights to convince Malfoy, and himself, that he was not affected by that initial encounter, or any of those following it.

Faced with a series of escalating encounters, Harry must come to terms with desiring things he never thought he could, things he wishes he didn’t respond to. They each use signs of arousal as weapons against each other in a mad struggle to finally shame the other into backing down for good. 

But it’s only after the game is over that Harry starts to understand.

this is by the same author of clouding the senses, and i read this just this week. at first, it’s shocking, because it plays around with consent in a very unsettling way. when communication comes in, and its starts getting healthier, you can really understand where the author found the idea of playing with consent. it is, in my opinion, 100% characteristic of how they would behave post-war, with that grief and confusion. it’s also dom/sub in some parts, and that’s mf hot. 

it also has my favorite tropes in it, but it’s a spoiler to say which one. i’ll probably mention the trope in the list along with a bunch others, but when u finish reading you’ll know which one ;)

6. Humbug / ~30K

Draco has been taking his casual relationship with Harry for granted. Visits from four key ghosts the night before Christmas just might shake up his priorities in life.

(felt like it was valid to just paste what i wrote in my notes app after reading this)

(FUCKKKKKK HOW TO EVEN START?!!!?? just a fucking bonus, draco is THE best bottom o ever exist i love my bottom son so much. this story isnt only amazing it’s excruciatingly painful to read, harry and draco have been sleeping together but harry is completely in love with him. draco doesnt see how much harry cares for him or how much hes hurting harry by treating their fling like its just that, a FLING. with that, draco is haunted by three ghosts. one of the past, the present and the future, AND THEY SET THAT IDIOT STRAIGHTTTT 1800000/10. the gays DO KEEP MF WINNING!!!

7. in your arms, rests my world / ~24K

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it.

“You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

the friends with benefits trope doesnt ever disappoint, top 5 tropes fr, especially if its also 8th year. harry and draco get into their little thing, but of course nothing ever is simple between them. by the preview, you can clearly see how much draco likes harry (also another 10/10 trope, the ‘i’ve been in love with harry potter since i was 11′ one). my only tiny issue with this is that harry fucks it up just a tad, but it of course adds up to the drama of it all, which i absolutely love.

noting it also touches on non-con/rape and, and all in all, is extremely angsty. one i was tense from beginning to end. but i am gonna say it ends amazingly and v happily.

8. Playing the Hero / ~29K

Nobody kissed me like Harry did. He kissed like he flew; he kissed like he duelled - with his whole being, not caring about anything else. I had never felt as vulnerable as I did when he kissed me, seizing all and any control I had over myself. But when Harry kissed me, I felt free...

so the thing about angst is that it ignites that mf feeling side u that even tho it hurts you cannot get enough of. this fic was EVERYTHINGGG. it made cry and laugh and smile. also another trope i absolutely adore is them breaking up and not being 100% ok with that, bc ding ding!! YALL STILL LOVE EACH OTHER!! 

i cant describe how i felt, honestly. i would just paste my notes (i wont bc spoilers) but it looks like i went thru sum shit. deadass

9. fine i’ll hold my breath / till i forget it’s complicated  / ~ 15K with the two parts

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

u know, fluff is a drug. i dont know if its beucase 90% of drarry fics are about angsty get-togethers, but i had butterflies in my stomach when i read this. its adorable. draco is so clearly in love, he jusT SMILES A LOT I CANTTT. 

its cute. i love it to death. have some fluff before starting your day.

10. Un Noël très parisien / ~14K

When Draco crossed paths with Auror Potter at a political function in Paris, he was not expecting their former animosity to change into something rather more intriguing. But he could be certain their casual flirtation would not last more than the night, couldn't he?

look. i know i named a lot of my favorite tropes here, but i cant end this without mentioning how much single dad draco affects me. i love scorpius and how much he changes draco in every fic he appears. i love parent draco and i shant be silent about it (especially when scorpius is legit just a year old in this. i died)

as it states, harry and draco have a one night stand but draco thinks thats it, that it was all he was ever gonna have. he’s wrong of course, and the path it takes, with both scorpius and harry there, just melted my mf heart.

well kids that’s all i have for now. imma work on a part two with 10 other fics i really love!1

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 16/?

FMA AU meets “The Wind Rises” AU : “I still remember every day”

[crazy idea #1: if you are familiar with FMA: Brotherhood (superior in every way) you probably are too young or too smart to remember the original 2003 FMA clusterfuck series but i’m neither young nor smart so here is my take on one of my favorite animated movies of all times “The Conqueror of Shamballa” BUT the story doesn’t start in 1923 Germany but somewhere around 1923 Japan. If you are familiar with this movie and the 2003 series you will know Ed Elric has moved from London to Munich and started living there frequently interacting with a family of rocket scientists (sounds crazy if you are only knowledgeable with FMA: B, but… trust me). So i thought, “what if our protagonist (in this case WWX) travels from China to Japan to work on some airplanes instead?”]

[crazy idea #2: “The Wind Rises” from Ghibli is set in that historical period right? so what if we make transmigrated WWX work his engineering magic on some aircrafts before any conflict can actually take place? precisely between the end of the Taisho period (1912-1926) and the beginning of the Showa period (1926-1989), when the desire for innovation and the new technological advancements could be implemented while at peace.]

[obviously, this is just a prompt, and I don’t feel particularly comfortable with creating fantasy storylines so intertwined with actual historical events, especially if these events caused the suffering of many and belong to a culture that is not mine to describe with the potential risk of offending its values and legacy. also, fandom should be fun and if you love angst maybe this is not the prompt for you. on the other hand I thought of how much i love movies like “Porco Rosso”, set somewhat really fucking close to where I live while describing a fun and lighthearted narrative even if it’s dealing with historical and political events that are still fresh and painful in our collective memory nowadays. Maybe it is possible to write something easy and fun while, at the same time, setting it in a time of great difficulties without hurting anyone. Maybe I’m not the person for that (after all, this is just a prompt), but if you want to explore a similar plot you are encouraged to tag me bc I would really like to know your take on the matter. and if I happen to offend anyone I will properly apologize and take responsibility.]

[the title is from L’Arc-en-Ciel’s song “Lost Heaven”, which still makes me cry to this day]

*

When Wei WuXian wakes up after the core transplant surgery, the first thing he realizes is that he should be awake. Wen Qing insisted on the fact that he had to keep himself awake and conscious for the entirety of the procedure, otherwise he would have suffered from extreme backlash and so would have Jiang Cheng. But here he is, waking up from slumber after who know how many days. In front of a figure in white he doesn’t recognize. Everything is blurry in his periphery, as if he’s inhabiting two bodies at the same time. His every move heavy and his speech sluggish.

The person in white turns the moment Wei WuXian realizes he’s standing in the middle of nowhere, in the space between realities.

“Where am I?”, he asks, trying to make out the features of the person in front of him, their long white hair, the silver lining of their robes.

“You’re here to pay a price.”, the other answers, their voice a mere whisper. Barely louder than the crisp little noises the pins and jewelry adorning their hair and neck are making as the person approaches him slowly.

“A price for what?”

“Before losing consciousness, you wished for your brother to be saved no matter what.”

“Is… is Jiang Cheng safe?”

“He’s dying because you fell asleep.”, the other announces, sending shivers down Wei WuXian’s spine, dread sitting in the middle of his chest, “You cannot wake up, the damage is done. But if you enter this door you will be able to save him. Your body in this world will die, the core will not share two owners at once and your brother will be the only one able to use it from now on.”

Wei WuXian doesn’t have time to feel pain, determination painting him in vibrant colors in that white realm of silence and void. He turns as the person in white gestures him to do so and he finds a door so big it could rival with one of the gates of Koi Tower. Engraved on its surface are myriads of characters reminding him of something ancient and forbidden. Something so dark and dangerous not even cultivators as knowledgeable as Lan QiRen would be able to understand, let alone encourage learning about.

“What will i find on the other side?”, he wonders, watching as the gates slowly open in front of him, a warm wind spiraling upwards and messing his hair.

A kiss from the underworld.

Is this the day I die, he doesn’t ask.

“Another world.”, the woman in white and silver answers honestly.

Wei WuXian doesn’t have time to recognize her that he is dragged inside by a thousands of spirits with eyes for mouths and teeth for hands.

*

Mere months have passed since he woke up in a body similar to his original one, but completely different from his own at the same time. He’s still seventeen, but cannot rely on cultivation anymore. The brand scar he received in the cave of the Tortoise of Slaughter is nowhere to be seen. His mother and father welcomed him back in their arms, crying over his bedridden body thanking the heavens for saving their only son from typhoid fever. He knew deep down those were not his true parents, that Cange Sanren had a different name on top of that and that their actual son’s soul was probably the sacrificial lamb paid on the altar of Wei WuXian’s greed to save his only brother. He knew this since day one, yet he was too tired to say anything at the time. He woke up in a small village in the Hubei Province under the Republic of China, established twelve years prior. A reality almost identical to his own, but stripped of any power of the cultivation world.

However, now things have changed and his parents have died a second time, the fever and starvation taking them in their sleep one at a time. But not before his mother could send a desperate letter to an old acquaintance of hers asking them to take their son “Wei Ying” out of the country and save him from harm. After accepting her proposition, the Chinese diplomat Jiang Fenmiang has invited Wei Ying to live with him and their family in Tokyo, where he’s working in order to strengthen and acquiesce the relations between the two countries after a period of tension and grievances.

As he travels on what he understands to be called a “train”, Wei WuXian takes notes over the many technological advancements this new era has brought to humanity. Such as the ferry he has taken to travel overseas and now the locomotive taking him to Tokyo. The pain of losing his parents for the second time is still fresh, as is the memory of the past few months living alone on the streets chased by rabid dogs. His body is still weak after surviving the fever and his lungs and digestive system are forever compromised, but he wants to meet Jiang Chen and YanLi a second time in this new world. Feeling guilty for leaving them in a world ruled by the Qishan Wen clan, the only thing he can do is to atone in this new life and protect them in this reality. He takes a brief moment to himself as he looks up from his notes and sees a man approaching from the first class carriage of the train.

Initially Wei WuXian doesn’t regard the stranger with anything but a polite nod, some of his notes flying away from his journal as he adjusts himself on the platform at the end of his car. He sprints up to try to catch them... before the stranger could grab them for him and give them back.

It’s then that Wei WuXian recognizes the man, an older version of Lan Zhan from the one he remembers, dressed in modern clothing and shorter hair. He’s just another double, a copy of the original he used to know. Just like his mother and father, just like the Jiang family he’s going to meet soon. No recognition comes from the other-Lan Zhan, yet Wei WuXian lets himself stare for longer than necessary as he thanks the man.

A single tear rolls down his cheek as an earthquake shakes the train and destroys everything around them in that day of September 1923.

[details down below]

1923:

(WWX is 17)

the train stops and all the passengers survive, but they are scared and don’t know how to reach Tokyo safely by foot. Some officers guide them to the nearest road and help them walk for a while before they have to leave for the capital in an attempt to contain the flames of the many fires caused by the earthquake.

Lan Zhan’s double has the same name and features, but is now twenty-five and was supposed to arrive in Tokyo to meet with his brother, Lan Huan’s double. He’s a little more cheerful than what WWX remembers and he also decides to stick with the younger man all the way to Tokyo. After glancing at WWX’s notes earlier, in fact, double!LanZhan recognizes him as someone from his same country and reasons they should feel safer traveling together for a little while more.

given that trying to explain his situation to double!LanZhan would be useless, WWX simply agrees and shoves down any temptation to tell him all about Gusu and the cave and how much he wishes he could go back to his original world. They walk all the way to Tokyo talking quietly: they are surrounded by strangers, WWX doesn’t know much Japanese to begin with and he doesn’t want to be recognized as a foreigner.

uncle Jiang, along with some clothes to travel more comfortably, has sent him enough money to travel and direction to reach his home. The only thing WWX hopes is that nobody was injured in the earthquake and that no more waves can reach them before he can join them. What an unfortunate time to arrive. Aunt Yu would probably hate him in this reality too just because of that.

but as he trails behind double!LanZhan and enters Tokyo, WWX feels as if hell has found its way into the world, flames everywhere and nowhere to go. In the midst of chaos, however, double!LanZhan tries to keep him from fainting or shaking, talking about all the things he and his brother wish to work on as architects working for the government. Yet, WWX senses how worried he is for his twin brother and pities him as he tries to calm down, marveling at how much this version of Lan Zhan can talk. They walk towards the Jiang household as double!LanZhan chats about the university he’s supposed to work for the following month, wondering if it’s still intact after the catastrophe.

they reach the elegant house without any more troubles, relief spreading through their hearts as they notice it has endured little to no damage. Uncle Jiang scurries over them and immediately recognizes WWX bc of how much he resembles his mother and the man dotes on him from then on. He thanks double!LanZhan profusely, ignoring the resentful glances coming from his wife and the curious ones from his daughter. A kid roughly the same age as WWX approaches and takes the other’s only suitcase: a scowl on his face and hurry in his steps, telling WWX to keep up because “the world is crashing down if he hadn’t noticed”.

WWX doesn’t have time to properly thank double!LanZhan that he is urged inside by his new family.

1927:

(WWX is 21)

given the connections the Jiang family has in both countries, WWX and his step siblings are able to enjoy benefits others may only dream of, but the government is wary of foreigners and they need to act as good guests. This angers and stresses Jiang Cheng, his temper even worse than what WWX remembers, and he is even more rebellious than his new stepbrother. It’s WWX who needs to tone down the other’s snark at times, reminding him they cannot do as they please and that, even if others are jealous of their grades in university and overall position, they are still living in difficult times.

WWX knows this Jiang Cheng is a double ant that everything feels like a dream and nothing matters anymore, but if he pretends hard energy maybe he can stop feeling guilty for leaving his dear ones behind. But acknowledging this Jiang Cheng as the real one feels wrong and sometimes WWX distances himself from him, keeping his secrets for himself.

however, double!JiangCheng has seen his brother scream in his dreams, even waking him up in the middle of the night just to shake him from his horrible nightmares. Sometimes Wei Ying watches him in his sleep, when he hasn’t yet realized double!JiangCheng is awake, as checks for his breath. Other times he pressed a hand to his abdomen, as if checking for scars or injuries. He doesn’t know what it means, but he is willing to wait for the other to come around and they’ll him himself.

their sister YanLi has figured a way to be useful in a country wary of foreigners by studying to become a doctor and save lives. Their father is currently struggling at work because of the increasing tensions between the two countries and their mother keeps to herself in spite of everything.

WWX’s health deteriorates after he starts working, their supervisor suggesting him and his brother to keep a low profile just not to attract any unwanted attention on their family. Their work as engineers can convince the higher-ups to keep them close in case war were to strike again. But Jiang Cheng feels bad for working for a country constantly threatening his parent’s home country over mining rights and land ownership. He may love working on new aircrafts and test his limits, but he’s against using his energy and drive for appease someone else’s greed.

WWX, for the first time in his life, feels second to his brother, admiring his ability to distinguish from right and wrong while he himself cannot even tell dreams and reality apart. With a weakened body and a mind filled with memories of a world that doesn’t even exists, WWX convinces himself he’s in hell and this life is the punishment for being too greedy himself.

1929:

(WWX is 23, double!LWJ is 30)

tension is too strong for them to live in Tokyo, with Uncle Jiang forced to work for the government and scramble for solutions in order to keep his family safe in a secluded location in the mountains, in a hotel in the middle of nowhere. There, the elites enjoys the last days of peaceful times they will not see again for years to come.

WWX feels drained, dreaming of people he will either never see again or see every single day in the faces of strangers. Jiang Cheng convinces him to talk, even if only to ease his pain, but WWX cannot bring himself to reveal the whole truth. The only thing he feels like to share is that he has visions of another world and that maybe reincarnation is not as far fetched as it seems.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t really believe him, but he supports him and together with YanLi they try to make Wei Ying relax during their vacation on the mountains.

there, out of nowhere, WWX meets double!LanZhan and his brother: they meet on top of a hill as the wind rises and some of the two brothers’ musical scores fly away. WWX and his stepbrother catch them and bring them back as YanLi approaches the two musicians.

this time, WWX notice immediately something is wrong. Double!LanZhan is far less cheerful than what he remembers from their first encounter, while his brother seems to have lost his vision, music being his only comfort. The group exchanges pleasantries with the twins on top of the hill, until rain forces them all to seek refuge under some trees. WWX watches double!LanZhan closely and realizes these years apart must have been tough on him. He asks if double!LanHuan has lost his sight after the earthquake and the only thing double!LanZhan is able to do is nod, his eyes filled with tears.

Would it be so bad to befriend this other-LanZhan? Is it right for WWX to start a new life in hell with someone so compassionate and kind? Maybe that would be okay in the end, maybe they can be good friends and survive this world that is wary of them simply because of the greed of human kind. Then why does it feel wrong to let himself be loved by these people? Why does it feel like he’s betraying the ones he has left behind?

during their vacation, the two families get closer and they enjoy each other’s company. They talk in Japanese to not be stared by the other patrons and WWX wonders what happened in his world. If the Wens have crumbled down. If their name is synonymous with hatred and greed. If this is how any refugee would feel, isolated from the rest of the country while desperately trying to hold onto any familiar face and memory at hand.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t like to talk in another language and fear others might look down on him and seldom attracts attention by causing mayhem. But YanLi and even double!LanHuan help him come down from his stubborn antics and take him to long walks to calm down. This way, WWX and double!LanZhan are frequently left alone, because Wei Ying cannot walk for too long without feeling exhausted and so the other keeps him company.

since double!LanZhan is so under the weather and quiet, WWX takes it upon himself to entertain him and he spends their days chatting about the things he misses from home, what he would like to do if he were to live somewhere else, they airplanes he would like to make. He doesn’t talk about how much me misses flying on a sword, or how the wind fills under his clothes up in the air, or how much he would have loved to hold onto Lan Zhan among the stars at night.

WWX cries in front of double!LanZhan without noticing one day, missing the days at the Cloud Recesses when they were classmates and he used to pester the other boy. And only now, only now he understands what it was, what he wanted to convey with his antics. How much he wanted the other to notice him and pay attention to him. But the one rubbing a comforting hand up and down his spine now is not his Lan Zhan. Even if he’s just as kind and compassionate, just as quiet and brilliant, just as hurt and lonely.

they share a kiss under the trees of a meadow one afternoon and WWX feels like he’s either betraying the real Lan Zhan or this gentle young man who’s never done anything bad in his entire life. And he doesn’t know why double!LanZhan is crying as well as they kiss, but he’s too afraid to ask.

the following day Uncle Jiang calls the rest of his family back home and the Jiang siblings say their goodbyes to the twins hiding alone with their uncle on the mountain. Promising to meet each other again soon, even if WWX knows that’s most likely nothing but a well intentioned lie given the hardships they’re bound to face.

1930:

Lan Zhan:

(WWX is 24, double!LWJ is 31)

after meeting with the Jiang family, the twins try to retrieve their life as usual the moment they return in Tokyo for the winter. Their uncle notices double!LanZhan’s distress over departing from the young men he had met there, but his inquiry is fruitless since his nephew refuses to speak. The old man has noticed some changes in the younger twin over the course of a couple of years or so: his frequent migraines and tiredness, his laborious efforts to speak as if feverish and confused, his nights interrupted by nightmares more often than not.

even his brother has noticed the difference despite losing his vision in the fire at the imperial university seven years prior. His cheerful spirit is gone, his steps alternate different rhythms at times, and even his accent often doesn’t sound familiar to him. In his younger brother’s words “it’s almost as if two of me are residing in a single body”. But Lan Huan doesn’t know what to make of it, wishing he could look his brother in the eyes and see the truth for himself.

double!LanZhan, on the other hand, feels split in half ever since he has kissed Wei Ying. He remembers that day because his body has moved on its own, half of his mind lost in Wei Ying’s grey eyes while the other half (his own half) was trying to understand why the sudden urge to hold the boy tighter in his arms. He felt like someone had possessed him for those brief, stolen moments in time before leaving his body altogether the second Wei Ying has run away from him in the meadow.

unable to find an answer, feverish and tired with a migraine splitting his brain in half, double!LanZhan wanders around Tokyo trying to remember where the Jiang residence was. His feet walking him towards Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng’s room in the evening one day. Wei Ying is alone, sitting down by a table covered in drawings. Mesmerized, double!LanZhan watches from the window as Wei Ying traces the lines of faces and places, over an over again, as if he doesn’t want to forget what his imagination has shown him that night.

seeing what is depicted on the table, double!LanZhan’s migraine worsens and he collapses in the back garden, snow piling up on him. Wei Ying immediately notices and brings him inside, covering him in quilts to keep him warm. But Wei Ying is the warmest of all, his embrace like a balsam over double!LanZhan’s pulsing head as the younger tries to keep him warm by rubbing his arms over and over.

suddenly his head doesn’t hurt anymore and he can finally, finally let go. Let the other half take his place for now, just for a little while, as he takes a small nap in Wei Ying’s arms.

when he wakes up, Lan Zhan cries all of his tears.

he was finally able to reach Wei Ying, his Wei Ying, who was trapped in another world. The one Lan Zhan has been looking for ever since the end of the Sunshot Campaign, ever since Jiang Cheng himself told him of his demise. The one Lan Zhan was able to reach only after sacrificing his golden core to the immortal turned goddes BaoShan Sanren in front of a gate born from the efforts of some past demonic cultivator.

for two years he had tried to make his way through the veil between realities, his consciousness exhausted as if he had been swimming for far too long. The other-him, the man who shared his name and face, hosting his soul at the expenses of his own body for over two years. All because of Lan Zhan’s grief and greed, all because a goddess had promised him he could be reunited with the love of his life. But at what cost... at what cost indeed.

since two souls cannot reside in a single body, one of them had to die in order for Lan Zhan to meet his Wei Ying again. The moment WWX sees the other cry, he immediately recognizes him and tries to console him for the loss of his “other”. But LWJ cannot seem to feel any relief as he falls asleep once more in his arms.

Jiang Cheng:

Jiang Cheng enters the room and is baffled to find one of the twins in there, but seeing his brother crying over the man he decides to help them instead of calling the servants. Things are turning ugly in town for people like them and he doesn’t trust anyone anymore since YanLi got married and started working for the hospital, leaving the brothers alone.

in tears, Wei Ying tells him everything: of his dreams of another world, of the one he was destined to meet, of Lan Zhan finally remembering who he really was. He’s still fixated on this “past life” thing, uh? Jiang Cheng doesn’t really understand, but he knows the two man has grown fond of each other the previous summer and doesn’t really envy their fate.

he watches over them as they fall asleep in each other’s arms, having promised them to keep the servants from knowing about Lan Zhan’s presence in their house. That’s when he comes up with a plan and calls Lan Huan on the phone, briefly telling him that “his brother Lan Zhan has made a choice and that he cannot stay in Tokyo anymore”.

Lan Huan asks Jiang Cheng if his brother is there, to which the other only says “yes”. Is he with Wei Ying? Yes. Are they in love? Yes. Do they need to hide? “I can manage that for them.”

They meet the following morning at dawn, outside of Lan XiChen’s house to not attract the attention of the Jiang servants. Jiang Cheng will escort the two lovebirds to a cottage somewhere in the countryside, far away from society. When Lan Huan will succeed in convincing Lan QiRen to follow him there, they will receive them and arrange something.

Jiang Cheng May not believe his brother, but he knows things are getting dangerous in the country, especially for foreigners like them. Let alone someone like Wei Ying and his lover.

Wei WuXian:

While Lan Zhan is still feverish, Jiang Cheng and WWX take the train with the older man to the countryside. WWX feels bad for leaving, but Lan Zhan needs to rest away from the modern world for a while and he himself doesn’t feel well at all. Not with his lungs giving up on him any time he has to stiffen a cough and swallow his own blood with every breath. His weakened body may have caught something in the last few months, but he will not give up on Lan Zhan now.

They reach the cottage and Jiang Cheng immediately sends a letter to his sister, apologizing for what he’s about to do. They only have to wait a week for Lan Huan and Lan QiRen to arrive, but in the meantime Lan Zhan has regained enough energy to eat and stand up on his own. WWX asks him what is going on, and LWJ tells him that he’s currently trying to hold onto this body while simultaneously ruling over his original body in Gusu. He doesn’t want to fade away, but he fears slipping out of reach and leave WWX behind a second time.

when Lan QiRen sees them, he cannot deny what is in front of him: someone who is merely pretending to be his nephew greets him with a stoic face as he announces his intention to marry a man. Despite the initial shock, when Lan Huan has asked him to take him in the middle of nowhere in the countryside in winter, Lan QiRen has accepted to indulge him knowing Lan Zhan must have had something to do with it. But this in front of him is definitely not his nephew and this realization hurts more then knowing he is in love with a man.

Lan Huan, on the other hand, knows from his voice this is not his brother but cannot explain why. He’s filled with grief at the thought and not even his uncle can comfort him, the older man himself in pain for a loss he cannot comprehend.

WWX asks them to indulge them just this time, feeling like his life is getting closer and closer to its end, not knowing what else to do. Jiang Cheng comforts the two men as he tries to explain his reasons, that nobody will let them have even an ounce of joy in the world they’re forced to live in and that, if things will end up getting worse in the end, at least they’ll have this memory to look back to. He feels like a war is approaching, and no one can know what kind of world will greet them at the end of it.

Lan Zhan:

the day of his wedding he’s very nervous, having asked their hosts to simplify the traditional ceremony given the fact that Wei Ying and he are both men and there are no actual guest attending. They bow to the heavens and the earth, to their families, and then to each other. Their clothes are far less expensive or appropriate from the nuptial red they would have worn under different circumstances, yet Lan Zhan has never felt more adorned and rich, basking in Wei Ying’s love.

they spend their first night together whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, tired and happy as they have never been before.

Wei WuXian:

they stay at the cottage for months, receiving news from the outside world every now and then from Jiang Cheng and Lan Huan. He suspects his brother is keeping something to himself, ignoring his questions over the political situation altogether, but he doesn’t insist.

LWJ tells him stories of the Sunshot Campaign, of how he tried to save the weak, the women, the children and the innocent of the Wen Clan against the rest of the cultivation world. Of how he found a way to summon BaoShan Sanren through some scrolls he had found in Burial Mounds, where he thought WWX’s soul might have disappeared to. Of how he hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to his brother and the people he had saved in Yiling before signing a contract with the immortal.

WWX’s lungs are giving up on him but he tries to keep LWJ from noticing. YanLi comes to meet them one day and makes sure to cry for her brother only when they are finally alone, sensing his intention to keep his husband from knowing the truth. He knows LWJ cannot possibly keep holding onto two bodies at the same time: waking up in Yiling the moment he falls asleep in the cottage; then waking up with Wei Ying every morning the moment he falls asleep in Burial Mounds where he has decided to hide. Without a golden core, for as strong as someone like LWJ can be, he would die if he keeps crossing the veil, the gate between the two worlds.

the day after YanLi has left them alone, WWX spends his last day with his husband, making sure everything is perfect. he also sends letters to his family and thanks them for loving him. he extends his best wishes to the people who worked alongside him, helping him bring to fruition his dream to fly in the sky once more... even if he has never flown in this lifetime.

he’s very happy with his husband and wants to commit every second they spend together to heart. They make love for the last time before they both fall asleep together and dream of home.

he whispers “I wish you good luck” before falling asleep.

Lan Zhan:

he wakes up the next day and Wei Ying is gone. His body cold in his arms.

mad with grief, unable to believe a life without WWX can or should exist, he cries over his husband’s body and wishes he could die.

Lan Huan and Lan QiRen happen to visit that day and find him crestfallen and asking to be left alone to die. But they help him bury the body instead and take care of him. Lan QiRen suddenly feels terrible at the thought of leaving this boy all alone, whether he’s actually his nephew or not. Lan Huan convinces his brother to eat and rest, holding him for as long as it takes for him to calm down.

the following day, as the younger twin wakes up, he asks Lan Huan why they’re in a cottage in the countryside and what happened while he was asleep.

the actual LWJ, by falling asleep, not willing to wake up in a world where WWX doesn’t exists anymore, has allowed double!LanZhan to regain complete control over the body in the cottage. The twin wasn’t dead, just dormant, waiting for LWJ to let go of his body on his own.

waking up in the Burial Mounds, however, with no golden core and no Wei Ying is worse than anything LWJ has ever experienced. Having to survive WWX’s death not one, but two times is too much to handle... but a small kid has found his place in his arms while LWJ was sleeping. His beloved A-Yuan, one of the few Wen children he was able to save from the Lanling Jin’s clutches after the Sunshot Campaign.

as he takes in the sight of the child he considers his own, peacefully sleeping in his bed, LWJ finds the strength to say “just another day”. And then another and another and another again.

13 years later:

Mo XuanYu sacrifices his body for WWX and the first thing Wei Ying does in his new body is to ask the Lan juniors to bring him to Hanguan Jun.

but Lan Zhan is already there, following the juniors around after managing to reforming a golden core in just a little over ten years all on his own. The first thing he says to Wei Ying is “I still remember every day.”

and they begin to travel together for the rest of their life.

*

Now I need a fucking tissue.

[as you can see very little “conquering another world” type of quest because I didn’t like to think too hard. This is more like “what if before transmigrating WWX and LWJ lived somewhere else and got married?” But then I had to make it sad, uh? Fuck.]

[also, demonic-cultivator!LWJ anyone?]

[nymphl]

Lie to Me - Hux x Reader x Ch. 15: Reliance & Mistrust

A/N: Hello there xD Well, this time I’m ahead of schedule. I’ll see if I can keep the updates here thrice a week. I think it’s best to update what’s already written at once here, before I get caught up with my schedule and other real-life things and all. So here we go xD 

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations; tros fix it; anti tros; nobody likes general pryde.

Wordcount: 5747

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YOU HATED IT.

And you should hate him…

…for his cryptic…

…cold…

…unfeeling…

…kriffing …

Behavior.

Instead, you hated yourself.

You hated that it hurt.

That you let him hurt you…

…emotionally and physically…

With the pain came the anger…

…strong…

…fervent…

…unstoppable…

However, your mind worked differently when you were furious. You became much more reclusive. Focused. As you were right now. Instead of lashing out, you did take greater care with everything you did.

Tightened your hold on the blaster, you did your best to control a pained hiss. Your arms seemed on verge of falling off as you waited for him to finally tell you to stop. To be in this kriffing position for so long, waiting for his instruction, was torture. And he knew it. Otherwise he would not have you going through the same simulation so many times. As you managed to get through the next phase of the staged attack, he would set you up for another round, till you were almost begging him for mercy.     

As if you could…

Outside bedroom affairs — which, you thought would not happen anytime soon —, the General hated when you begged. And you did not want to be seen as weak. Even if it would render you another lecture on not showing your weakness unless out of necessity — you wondered if that would be the way to get him to talk to you again.

Honestly, he was talking to you. But only what was necessary. Your husband was gone. In his place, only a General was left — and this General could be harsh when he wanted. 

Your worst nightmare.

Biting your bottom lip forcefully, you held the blaster firmly between your hands and waited for the targets — Imperial Troopers — to leave their hideout before you could fire. This time, however, there was something different. One of them — one of the targets — was hurt. You knew it was not true — apart from being a make-believe situation, the targets were not even real beings —, but even so, you lowered your arms.  

“How did you manage to get us here?” You breathed out in your speaker device. Apart from the VR glasses, you had your earmuffs firmly in place. The glasses set up the parallel reality and the earmuffs kept the outside sounds at bay.

The Crystal Cave indeed had training facilities that were more than adequate in your opinion. This was different from any simulation room you had seen before; instead of a practice field in which teams worked together towards some goal, you were alone and unmoving. The targets came to you and you had to shoot them before they could reach you in your own hideout. If your avatar got hurt, it would be the end for you. Luckily, you managed to escape their blasters twice now.

As expected, he did not answer your question. He seemed very focused on the targets ahead — even if he did not participate in your training, he had no avatar for himself, he too could see whatever you saw through your glasses. It was all it took for you to take a deep breath and let your attention slip somewhere else.

Even if he was a jerk, you felt safe with him.

It is… you did not let your mind drift to the last time in which he had his hand wrapped around your throat…

You were very tired; physically and mentally exhausted — every single person you knew worked overtime. The new disease in Dantooine continued keep you — and your peers — on edge. In no time, the number of alien dead would surpass the number of those who died in the last few days; even the most talented physicians in the planet were worried. So far, in pediatrics almost ten alien kids had died — in your shift. You had no idea if you could trust the data provided by those in charge. And as much as you understood they were merely trying to prevent some sort of collective hysteria, at least you and your coworkers were entitled to know. Everything you had found out was your own doing.

Shaking your head, you tried to focus your attention on your surroundings. You knew this place — this part of the cave. You had been there once with Aurra Sing before, when you were in your late teens. If your husband — the General, you quickly corrected yourself, there was no need to keep indulging your thoughts of that lie; he had figured out everything — thought it was adequate at best, it was because the First Order was… otherworldly.

A shudder ran down your spine.

He was fine now — more than fine, if you were to be honest, his physical condition was flawless —, so why would he still linger? Why not go back to the First Order?  

Honestly, you were not sure if you could trust him.

His negative answer when you questioned him about you being a bait to attract and defeat — that was important — the Resistance had you relieved.

Now…

…now you were not so sure.

“Fire.”

His voice, so detached and whispered through the speaker device, had you shivering. He was right behind you, quite but not touching. The last week living in the Cave he barely got within an arm of distance from you — always distant, always in his own mind. Having him this close now was… almost weird. Even when you trained — and for the maker, he made sure you trained hard every day and he could be as intense in your training as he was in your bed; your ardent lover had vanished, in its place, there was the business-like General — he would keep his distance. The last time in which you were in his arms, you were crying and asking how you could trust him, only to get a vague answer.

It was difficult to trust him — or get even near to it — when he barely interacted with you. How could he expect you to follow your krifing instincts when he barely looked at you? When all you had were a huge pile of doubts that only got bigger? When he was vague in his answers? For whenever he answered one of your questions you had another ten springing in your mind.   

You snapped your attention back to the targets, but nothing seemed to have changed in their previous stance. You furrowed your brows, but he paid you no attention.  

“Now,” he spoke again, this time his voice was firmer than before.

You had no reason to shoot when they were not moving — they were not attacking — and seemed to be paying some sort of medical care to one of theirs. Your moral convictions prevented you from attacking any hurt being — real or not, enemy or otherwise. The General was the living proof of that. It was simply beneath you and everything your father — your mother and Aquilla — stood for. However, you quickly realized your mistake as one of them — who was previously stretched out on the floor and apparently hurt — rose to his feet and opened his hand. A grenade lay in it, ready to be launched.

Without waiting for your move — you sincerely did not expect such plot twist —, the General opened fire against them — his avatar flashing before your peripheral vision —, knocking out all four targets quicker than your eyes could follow.

Next, he pressed a button at your left, shutting down the transmission before the grenade could go off. Your glasses darkened, forcing you to remove them. As you were greeted by the strong light in the simulation room, you had to blink a few times to get used to the new sight before your eyes. Honestly, you did not know which was worse: the light or the General’s judging eyes.

Not really ready for the reprimand of your life, you took your time to remove the earmuffs, letting them rest around your neck.

“I am sorry?” you tried, unsure on what to say. Besides, what could have you done? You certainly did not expect the targets to fake a situation — in a simulation! — just to attack you shortly after. Your first instinct was to always believe a hurt person — how else could you save lives if you did not believe your patients in the first place? You knew they did not qualify as such, but your point was still valid.

At least it seemed in your mind.     

“Your naivety almost got you killed.”

You pursed your lips into a thin line. You expected him to call your action one of compassion, not ingenuousness — and honestly you did not know which was worse in his eyes. You even opened your mouth to say it was only a make-believe situation, but you figured out it would do you no good. Apologizing would not do, as it would be seen as another act of weakness in his eyes.

“Who runs this part of the Cave?”

The General narrowed his eyes at you; he certainly did not see that question coming. With his hands entwined at his back, in what you called his General posture, he walked away from you; his shoulders set straight.

“I do.”

You furrowed your brows. It simply made no sense. No one in their right mind would simply abandon this place, only for the General to take it under his control, that much you were sure. And only one person crossed your thoughts at the moment: Aurra — and her precious Syndicate, of course.

“Aurra Sing gave up this place for me. In its entirety.”

At least you were sure of the first part; the second made no sense whatsoever. You did not know the details of their partnership, but you were sure she would not simply give up a Crystal Cave, that was so closely related and so important for the Jedi she hated so much that easily. Something smelled fishy.

Everything about him smells fishy.  

“Why?”

How?

“She already controls the Jedi Enclave, the Imperial Outpost and the Mining Outpost, giving up the Cave did not seem to bother her that much.”

You gaped. Besides the unlikely gesture or deal — that did not seem anything alike the Aurra Sing you knew —, it had been days since the General last spoke that much to you, that he even deemed you worthy of his stare. Shaking your head, you concentrated on the topic at hand: the Cave had training facilities unlike any other in Dantooine. Why would Aurra— you stopped mid-thought. Of course…

“She doesn’t truly know about the simulation rooms.”

The General snorted. You took a few steps closer to him and folded your arms at your chest. Contrary to your expectations, he did not step away.

“She does.”  

Then…?

“Aurra Sing doesn’t care about simulation rooms,” he said, taking two steps closer. It was enough to set his shiny boots barely an inch away from yours. “However, she isn’t aware this Cave has some old, albeit functional ships.”

It simply made no sense.

You shook your head. You did not know what that quick mind of his was working on, but you did not like it not even one bit. You did not trust Aurra…

…and you were not sure you could trust him either.

In spite of his words, in spite of your foolish heart that wanted so bad to believe him — to believe he had feelings for you —, your mind… your guts… told you to stay wide awake when near him. 

I trust him with my life…

A shiver ran down your spine. His involvement with the Resistance and the Syndicate at the same time made no sense at all. And made it very difficult to trust him. How could he be loyal to two distinct factions — with very different beliefs — at once?

I am loyal only to myself…  

You shook your head. You even reached out to him, but not sure if you should touch him or not, you entwined your fingers in front of your lap.   

“I don’t want you involved with her.”

And part of me wants you away from the Resistance now.

The fact that General Organa had not contacted you yet, made it all the more difficult for you to trust him.

His response was immediate this time, “I know.”

Then… why?

You even opened your mouth to ask him to clarify this issue, but his leather-gloved finger over your bottom lip made your freeze in place. It was the first time in days… It was the first time he touched you. Willingly. Sometimes he would fix your posture in your training, but that was not a lingering touch. Unlike this very one. He cast a sideways glance, directing your own eyes towards the point over his shoulder. Before you could say anything, his lips fell upon yours in a.. kiss.

You could not even describe it.

Mechanic?

Cold?

Thought-out?

Everything but passionate.

If his words made no sense to you before, his actions felt even more absurd. Either way, you sighed against his lips and kissed him back, holding onto him for dear life — you were touch-starved, which was laughable considering you spent five years without… getting any action. He seemed determined to keep it — the kiss — in a… professional level. His usual voraciousness was gone.

It was a relief when he broke apart when the lights went out and the two of you were left in the dark.

You could say now you missed the power shortages in Dantooine. At least it was something completely predictable, contrary to the General’s cryptic behavior. The growing doubt that gripped your heart and did not seem about to let go seemed to only increase.

“What was that?” you asked, but quickly shook your head. “She’s watching everything, isn’t she?” This time, you spoke in Ryl, your voice no more than a whisper against his lips — you were still in his arms, still holding onto him, still waiting for him to kiss you properly. Yearning for it. Even if she knew and spoke the language to perfection, you doubted any of her henchmen — if any of them was in the Cave following you, which was probably the case — knew.

He nodded.

“I just don’t understand…” you spoke in a rushed tone, trying to clear your mind of any doubts before the lights flickered back — part of you wondered if that was not staged by him; to act as if he was being watched to get you to believe Aurra was the enemy —, but it was very difficult. His shady decisions had you on edge. “Why would you do what she wants?”

“Why not?” the General replied. His lips moved over yours in a small caress that had you sighing against him.

In your current state — in your heart’s current state —, it was very difficult to say no to him. Unlike his kiss, his fingers ghosting over your clavicle — but never getting closer to your throat; he seemed very conscious how he snapped last time — was anything but mechanic. His lips moved from yours to your cheeks and then your jaw… running the length of your skin towards your chin and finally stopping at your chin.   

“It’s just…” You shut your lips when he started unbuttoning your shirt. You blinked. That was absolutely not the best moment to engage in intimacy, but you were so… needy right now. If you thought about using sex as a way to get the upper hand in this relationship before, now you knew you could never be as good as him. “How long till the power is back?”

“Two more minutes.” You shuddered as he parted from you and removed his own black shirt and brought you back to his arms. You were about to comment it was not enough time for the two of you to… do anything properly — the lights were about to flicker in and the cameras would record everything —, but his lips were on your ears, “She’s just found out about the ships and she’s going to destroy them.”

“But I thought…” You closed your eyes as he sat you over the balcony where you put your training devices and settled between your thighs; your legs automatically wrapped around his waist. “You’re making absolutely no sense.”

As his lips fell over your throat and he kissed it lightly, you knew you had lost your ability to think. He did not take his time there, however, going back to your mouth and brushing his tongue against your bottom lip. He merely teased you, not kissing you for real. You groaned in frustration.  

“Please.”

You were conflicted.

Part of you wanted — needed even — to go further with that. Needed him. Realistically, you knew it was all a game to deceive Aurra — or deceive you, you did not know anymore —, he knew what you wanted — he always seemed to know — and he was using sex as a tool to… — you swallowed, because you hated how truthful the word rang — to manipulate you.  

“So easily distracted…” the General finally silenced you with his lips. As the lights flickered in again, you could not be gladder that he was finally kissing you for real.             

A disappointed sigh left you as soon as you closed your eyes in the darkened bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Not his.

You were alone.

Not with him.

After bestowing you with a mind-blowing kiss, the General took you to your chambers. Part of you thought — you were hopeful even —, that the two of you would finally get physical.

Tsk.

All he did was to drop you onto the mattress and turn on his heels. He just left you alone. For a few minutes, you just stood positioned on your elbows waiting — hoping — for him to come back. Right now, it did not matter that he was using sex as a tool to manipulate you, you just needed it.

Now… as the lusty cloud left you — after you took matters into your own hands — you were glad he did nothing. You were glad he left.

At the same time, you were angry.

With yourself.

For the maker!

How could you be so stupid? You were never this irrational — gullible and stupid — with Aquilla. It is a fact that Aquilla never used sex as a tool… However, being married to an alien — and having sexual relations with them — was completely different than with a human — there was always extra care involved and twi’leks saw marriage was something sacred — not a lie to toy with. What you meant was that Aquilla would never tease you and leave you… wanting.

Perhaps next time you saw him you should tell him that.

If he said last time you kept comparing the two of them, then you should take comparisons to the next level. You wondered how long it would take for that nonchalant mask of his to fall after you told him Aquilla never teased just to leave you… unsatisfied.

Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind of everything. Honestly, you were horrified you could think of something so mean. The General had issues — several, actually — and your childish behavior could — would — worsen them.

You closed your eyes and pulled the blankets to your chin, falling into an uneventful slumber shortly after.

It was middle of the night when you woke up by yourself. A nightmare about the General leaving you for good — without looking back — haunted your sleep. Your swallowed, but it was raspy. Your throat felt dry.

You sat on the bed and reached for the bottle, only to have it handed to you.

If the situation — if you did not feel so numb because of the dream —, you probably would have been startled. Instead, you accepted the bottle and drank the water in big gulps. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and looked at him in the darkened bedroom.

He was sitting in a chair close to your bed, completely focused on his datapad. The sound of his fingers working on the screen had you blinking a few times. Even if you had just woken up by yourself, you were still struggling to stay awake.

You bit your bottom lip and shook your head. So many questions you wanted — needed even — to ask, that you could not afford to sleep right now. It could — and would — come later.

“What was that earlier?” Your voice was small, unsure as you started. “Why are we really here?” You cast your eyes to your lap. Your body was covered with the softest fabric you had ever touched. The sheets were very pleasing to the touch. Even after a week living in the Cave, with sheets like that and a bed way bigger and comfortable than yours, you could not say you were happier here. You were very happy in the Cave in the first time you visited it, after your small adventure with the General. And even if you knew his demeanor had nothing to do with the place, you did not want to live in a place where he seldom spoke to you — in a place where he only kissed you because cameras would capture it. Your eyes widened when the thought hit you, “Are there cameras in this room?”

The corner of his lips tilted slightly upwards — which set your heart into a frenzied beat —, but his answer came quickly, “No.”

A relieved sigh left you. Honestly, you did not need for Aurra Sing to watch whatever you did in that room. Or even the General. That would be beyond embarrassing. You did not know about him, but you did mind being in the spotlight.

As you saw the lingering shadow of a smirk on his lips, you froze.

“You know.”

His lack of answer had heat touching towards your face… gripping it. That was the perfect time to compare him to Aquilla.

No.

You shook your head.

There were far more pressing matters. This… whatever this was… Is… — you had no idea anymore — could wait. You had to question his decisions concerning this very night. His touches — even if welcomed — came out of nowhere. He was using sex as a means of distraction. You were sure of it. If you yourself thought about it before — even if you did not act on it, you planned it —, the General would act on it; he was not above such machinations. What’s more, he proved for the second — third? you were no longer sure — time you were his to do as he pleased.

Easily distracted…

What bothered you was the fact he was right. The feeling of being beaten in a game you planned to play in the first place did not sit well with you.

“You manipulated me through sex.”

He shifted his attention to you. His piercing, impossibly blue eyes focused on your face. There was no need for a loud answer, for his orbs told you enough.

You bit your bottom lip.

“You think I am easy to manipulate.”

He did not look anywhere when the next words left his lips, “I know it.”

His answer knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat rigidly in your bed and tugged the sheets to your chin — you felt stupid for taking your clothes off. You would not feel so vulnerable right now if you put on something before you drifted to sleep.

But that was all.

It did not hurt you. His mean words. His cold demeanor.

By now… you were almost used to it. You felt so numb right now nothing he could have said would make you feel any worse.

“What are you doing here?”

Unlike last time, now he took his time to reply. You just sat there watching him type something on his datapad in silence. He was no longer looking at you — which was somewhat a relief —, his attention solely focused on the device.       

How long were you here? you even wanted to ask but gave up shortly after. You could deal with everything right now, but not with the fact of knowing he had seen you — watched — as you pleasured yourself and sighed his name — imagined him doing things to you.

You shook your head.

“My…” You closed your mouth — addressing him as my Lord when you suspected he may have caught you doing the deed was far too embarrassing —, and tried again “Armitage?” you asked, your voice wavering this time, you were not really sure what to call him. Going back to your usual my Lord would not do, not with all the memories of that first night in the cave… Calling him your husband was an even greater absurd. But would he find it weird if all of a sudden you stopped addressing him formally or he would welcome it that you called him more intimately?

Besides, going back was not what you had in mind. If you wanted to move on with him, with you wanted to have a real relationship with him, you had to get closer… Your heart sped at the thought, but you knew it to be truthful: you had to start trusting him.

Right…?

You rose to your feet and cast a look at his datapad. It took you a while to recognize what he was doing and where he was doing it — for you were seeing everything upside down — but as you realized he was staring at some sort of files concerning the First Order, you felt an irrational fear gripping your heart.

Trust him with my life…

He chose that exact time to ask you to repeat the symptoms you had told him earlier when you told him about your day at the Hospital. You furrowed your brows, but recited them nonetheless, “It’s like a common cold, except that those infected with it are dying in three days-time. They’re afflicted with nasal congestion, fatigue, coughing and high appetite. What does it have to—

You stopped yourself. He would not answer to your question. And you were afraid of his answers. This conversation had you leaving the bed and looking for your clothes in the dim-lighted room. If you were to have that conversation — or any sort of conversation — it would absolutely not do to stay naked.

He cast a glance at you, his eyes narrowing as he watched your covering yourself from his prying eyes. Very conscious of his rapt attention, you wetted your lips and sat back on the mattress, pulling the blankets to cover yourself, “They seemed to have acquired a new taste for human flesh out of the blue as well.”

There was a moment of silence between you as his fingers stopped working on whatever he was… working. His eyes remained on you the whole time as he seemed to contemplate the new bit of information you just released — something you did not tell him before and that you regretted telling now.

“You’re not returning tomorrow.”

And there we go…

You felt highly stupid for saying that. So far, only two of the infected alien species showed any sort of addiction to human flesh — out of several! You thought that you were particularly safe. Not to mention, you were responsible for taking care of the children — and they rarely represented any danger.

Not to mention… He did not seem to care about you.

To love you.

Did it really matter if you died or lived?

And if he wanted you alive, was it because he felt something for you or because he thought you could be useful?

“Listen,” you started, biting your bottom lip. Convincing the General you were out of danger would be a difficult task, but you were willing to reason with him either way. Then you furrowed your brows, curiosity — mistrust — taking over you. You almost said that Aquilla would never ask you to stop working — to stop helping others when they needed you most. But should the words leave your lips, you would regret them forever — like you regretted reveling the whole truth that day. You shook your head and said, “Why are you so interested? You’re not even a doctor.”

He narrowed his eyes at you — it was as if he knew your traitorous thoughts —, but instead of giving you a direct answer, he opted to ask, “What do you know of the Kryto virus?”

You furrowed your brows. You simply hated how cryptic he was sometimes.

It did not make it any easier to trust him.

For the maker!

Your doubts were bordering on paranoia. For the first time, you realized that him knowing everything — and not telling how he figured out everything — was a heavy burden. His silent, offended even demeanor — and what did he have to be offended about when he lied to you as well? — prevented you from trusting him fully. It prevented you from letting go of the past — look at how many times you compared him to Aquilla in a short spam of time! — and truly moving on.

Trust him with my life…

As if…

Not even ten minutes ago you were sure he was manipulating you through sex. He was hiding something from you.

Loyal to myself and to you…

For real?

If he could lie about believing — buying — your own lies, why would he say he truth his loyalty?  

“What does it have to do with—” You stopped midsentence, realization finally sinking on you, “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” he replied, handing you the datapad. He was reading some sort of article related to deadly viruses released by the Empire in an attempt to destroy the New Republic, of them was the famous Kryto Virus, a bioweapon responsible for taking the lives of millions of aliens back in 7 ABY.

You were a mere toddler when it happened and the subsequent Bacta Wars, but the misery you saw taking over the very planet in which you lived now would be forever marred in form of your father’s frown whenever he looked at you or you listened to him crying himself to sleep at night.

The mere thought of something of such scale taking over the galaxy again made a cold shiver ran down your spine and a deep, horrendous fear grip your very heart, squeezing it mercilessly. 

Clearing your throat, you handed the datapad back to him. All traces of sleep had left you and now you were wide awake and very much frightened. Subconsciously, you reached for his hand and entwined your fingers together. When you realized what you were doing, you were ready to pull away, but he tightened his hold over you lightly.

You will have to follow your instincts.  

For the first time his words started making sense to you. The paranoia was leaving your system. Understanding flooded you. He did hide tons of stuff from you, but if he did have anything to keep from you — concerning the disease at least —, he certainly would not show you the article, would he?

With his left hand only, he started typing something else in the flat screen and shortly after you were staring at several sketches. It showcased a Dantari with some red spots on the face and body. Each spot had a brief description that matched exactly the symptoms the patients at the Hospital displayed.

Instead of asking the obvious question, instead of putting the blame where it was due — paranoid! you were paranoid —, you said, “So… you have all of your accesses to the First Order database?”

You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his reply.

“Mostly.”

You took your time to voice your next question. You were really not sure you were ready for his answer — whatever it may be.

“Did you know it?”

“Possibly,” he replied, his eyes focused on you. When you looked down at your joined hands, he used his thumb to caress the inside of your wrist. His touch burned your skin, so you quickly disentangled your fingers and moved away from him. Your action made him straighten his back. “I have not regained all of my memories, so I do not know.”

The thought of his lost memories — he would not and could not know, for he knew nothing of his past before the attempt on his life — should make you feel relieved, but you felt even tenser now. Without knowing, he could be the very responsible for this new development in Dantooine. It is, if he coordinated the invasion of your planet, he could also have orchestrated this new virus, right?  

Not for the first time you wondered if you did the right thing by saving him. And even if it hurt you beyond imagination the thought of how empty your life would be, you could not help but ask yourself if you were not in the wrong right now.

“Have you ever lost your memories?”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

There was moment of absolute, sepulchral silence. You thought you forgot how to breathe; your heart was beating madly inside your chest as you waited for his answer. When it came, you were left agape. 

“You should sleep,” he said, getting on his feet. You were not sure if his face was that expressionless or if you were imagining stuff. 

He moved his fingers over your temple, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. Before he could caress your face, however, you snapped his hand away.

“Is there any cure in any of these articles?”

He had his eyes narrowed, but he did not comment on your sudden change in behavior. He retreated — both physically and emotionally —, looking for his leather gloves in the dressing table in the other corner of the room.

The silence was almost unbearable as he placed his blaster in its holder. You wanted to say something, your throat even burned with it, but you felt unable to even open your mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

…with my life.

You bit your bottom lip. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to be as sure as you were when you told General Organa just a few days ago, but could not.

For the maker!

You swallowed.

He grabbed his coat and headed for the exit. He had his hands clasped on his back when he spoke without even casting one last glance at you, “Do not wait for me.”

A/N - And that’s all for today. I’ll see you on Wednesday xD

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Emma Ficready and welcome to Behind the Quill, it’s wonderful to finally have the chance to chat with you.

Many readers will know you already from works like “Chimaera” and “Sins of the father” for those that don’t,  a Trigger Warning from Emma that  their works contain graphic violence and abuse and may cause distress to some readers. 

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name? It's actually my previous name! Although very apt for a fiction writer. Though it's pronounced more like Thick - Reedy, I use it over my new name because my partner does not know I'm a fiction writer, and I  don't think they'd react well if they found out, it's something they'd struggle with. I'm a long term partial carer for them and they have some mental health issues, so I try to avoid any situations that could be a potential trigger. Plus I like having something all to myself. Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most? I think I would say I probably relate to Severus Snape the most. I can relate to how 'damaged' he is, and how much the bullying he endured as a child, affected the adult he became. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) I think I like to read angst the most, as to me that's more real, I don't generally read stories that are entirely fluffy all the way through. I love a happy ending, but  I can't cope with total fluff because I find it unrelatable, life isn't sunshine and daisies all the time. Do you have a favourite "classic" novel? I don't know if it's old enough to be classed as a classic, but I'd have to say 'To Kill a Mockingbird' by Harper Lee. At what age did you start writing? Very young. I had my first poem published by aged 10. How did you get into writing fanfiction? After being heartbroken at the end of Harry Potter series , I just wanted more and I had been reading fanfiction stories for years. I was constantly looking for stories, I'd get this thought in my head and it was like 'I wonder if I can find a story about this' and when I couldn't I just thought... well why don't I write it? I also find the writing very cathartic. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? I love hurt / comfort fics. I'm a sucker for it. It is something that I represent quite a lot in my fictions, because I can see both Hermione and Severus in that role in their own individual way. Hermione who is constantly a champion and a voice for others, and Severus who is there quietly and thanklessly fighting for others the entire time, I can see both of them naturally falling into those roles of 'saving' someone , without it being out of character. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? I'm not particularly active in any other fandoms, I have always been a Buffy Fan and I love the Inheritance cycle books by Christopher Paolini , though short of reading other fanfictions I am not active in the community like I am with Harry Potter. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? The epilogue, probably the  most common answer you get  and I know everyone is going to expect me to say because she never should've married Ron, but I can see her marrying him and subsequently divorcing him as being true to Character but I'd change the epilogue because I don't think Hermione would or should ever have settled for being a ministry worker, she deserved so much more. Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? I don't know if this counts but... Severus's Patronus changing after he survives the war. I see the doe as symbolic to the debt he felt he owed her, and I like the thought of the visual change of patronus, representing the emotional change he goes through in accepting the past and moving on now he feels that he's fulfilled his promises. Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? Quiet! I love music, the heavier the better actually, but I have to be in the right frame of mind for it. Otherwise I can sometimes get sensory overload. I hate white noise and things like asmr, I often wear hats or headbands, or have my hood up to block out some noise. What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? How long have you got? Honestly that's not an easy question to answer, and it doesn't have one answer. But I could say that some of the stories I find myself reading over and over again are 'Sin & Vice' , 'Another Dream' and 'Lay me low'. There's no way I could write all my favourites down here, but they're the ones I re-read most often. My favourite WIP is probably ' Inkstains' Are you a plotter or a pantser? 90% Panster. I will literally have one small idea, it could  be one small interaction, one conversation or one event that pops into my head and I will end up writing a story around that one small thing. My story signs entirely stemmed from the one interaction of Severus handing Hermione the note. I knew I wanted that, and then it was by the pants from then on How does that affect your writing process? It means that I do update my stories in a regular order, so no one story is left too long without an update. I literally sit down, crack my knuckles and go 'right, I'm writing the next chapter of this story now. I write it and post it as soon as it's finished. I write from my phone too, so I apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors, auto-correct is the bane of my life at times What is your writing genre of choice? Have you read my fictions!? Interviewer: Well yeah, but I’m asking because you’ll be new to at least  some of the audience. (chuckles) Ha. Sorry. Angst, all the way. I write angst and hurt/comfort, very dark stories as I pull a lot of my ideas from the real life experiences of myself and friends I met in therapy. Writing about trauma is very cathartic for me and helps me process my own feelings about my own history. Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it? How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write? That's a tough one, as there are elements to all of them that are important to me. None of the stories I write quite unfold like I imagined they would, they just sort of take off and I'm along for the ride. I'd be remiss not to talk about Not the Same girl at this point, as that story has probably had the biggest impact for me, the responses it's had and the people reaching out to me, both positively and negatively. I've had some outright hate over that fic, and abusive messages to the point that I almost gave in altogether and I think because of that people will expect me to say Not the Same girl is the fiction I relate to most, and while I do draw a lot from personal experience it's actually Father Mine as that resonates with me on a more personal level, that and an as yet unpublished WIP I have in the works, I think the huge dichotomy of feedback I've had for stories like Not the Same girl though, have both given me a thicker skin to the hate and encouraged me through the sheer overwhelming amount of people who’ve reached out, that find the stories cathartic in dealing with their own trauma, which is gratifying as an author to do that for people, when I myself am looking for that same release in writing it. It's great to have this mutual satisfaction and it's really rewarding. What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing? I think probably going to refer back to Harper Lee and to kill a mockingbird. The whole premise of telling a story that no one wants to hear or acknowledge, the things that are widely known but rarely spoken about. In “To kill a mockingbird” it's sexism, racism and prejudice against others based on their mental health or intelligence but we still see this so much in daily life, about how much hate and horror and suffering is seen in day to day life, the trauma that so many people have suffered is widely known but swept under the rug because it's easier. No. Hell No. Fuck that. Hiding doesn't change any of it, it may be under the rug but it's still there. People rape other people, people hurt other people, people discriminate based on gender, sexual preferences, skin colour, occupation, people have suffered in life and are damaged by it. Acknowledge it. Don't  brush it under the rug, don't ignore it because it's more comfortable for most people, shine the light on it and say. "This is real. This happens. We need to acknowledge it and we need to do something about it"  And I think that's shown in my writing , I don't glorify  anything, I'm not writing snuff but I don't hide anything either. I make people see this is something that I won't gloss over. Does it make you uncomfortable? Good , it should. If people are uncomfortable , at least they are acknowledging the realness of that situation and not ignoring it. Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"? Nobody knows I write fanfiction,  I use a previous name and I very much write for my own cathartic relief. I chose not to share that I write fiction because I'm a carer for my partner, I don't know how they'd react, it could honestly go either way where they'd be absolutely fine or it would trigger them and I'd have to stop, that's the reason I keep it to myself, I'd hate to do something that would mean I'd have to stop writing, not when so many people are so emotionally invested in the stories that I write. How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media? Reviews man. Reviews are the nectar of life, I read every single one and though I don't have time  to reply to most, trust me when I say that I treasure each one and appreciate them immensely. I have my social media which I find the easiest way to speak to people , I have my own Page on Facebook and I'm on a number of SS/HG groups. It's hugely important to me to speak to my audience and I really encourage them to get in touch with me, I'm always happy to talk about my work and people have been in touch just to talk about their feelings or emotions that have been triggered by my work and I welcome it all.  I mean, I've got people translating my stories them into French, into Russian...it's crazy, I never expected it to be so popular and I am always happy to hear from people. Though I apologise if I don't respond straight away,  I have to write on the sly and sometimes real life takes over, so I can't log in for a week or more at a time.   What is the best advice you've received about writing? First and Foremost, write for yourself. The rest is just gravy. What do you do when you hit writer's block? I move on to another story. I always have more than one WIP at any one time, If I can't find inspiration for one, I'll update another, or start a jumble of notes for others. There's always something that needs to be written down, even if it wasn't what I had planned on. Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing? Very much so. Almost all the trauma and hurt and situations that appear in my stories are either translated from my own experiences or those of people I know. Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? I had a number of stories in the works! When A Cure For Magic is completed, I will most likely post the next one up. I can't give too much away , but the next story is called "Catching Fire" and will be an incredibly dark story, with a lot of morally grey characters. Any words of encouragement to other writers? Just do it.  If you want to write it,. write it. First and foremost write for yourself. Don't listen to anyone who's negative ,or unsupportive. I get so many people message me saying things like 'I want to be a writer', but don't know where to start' and to which my answer is you already are a writer. Writing is 99% mental, you have the words, they're there in your head, you just haven't put them down yet. Thanks so much for giving us your time.   Any time , it's been great and I'm happy to answer questions any time , thank you for inviting me.

[misscrawfords]

The Rise of Skywalker: Part One

I have lots of thoughts and feelings about TROS. Most of them negative. For three days I’ve been alternating between raging and crying. Finally, I’ve felt able to start writing.

This is a negative review. If you loved the film then this might not be the post for you. I am very sensitive to what happened after TLJ. And I want to reassure anyone reading that I would never turn criticism for a film (which is absolutely a valid response to seeing something that you disliked and are trying to understand) into personal attacks against the actors or creators involved or, worse still, fans who liked it. If you liked TROS, can’t bear to hear any criticism of it, and still choose to read my posts about it, then that is on you. (I really shouldn’t have to say this but this is a hellsite.)

This post contains spoilers for TROS... and Jumanji 2. Go figure.

Things I liked:

·       C-3PO and everything he did. This droid is the character I identify with most in the entire SW series (which probably says some uncomfortable things about me but this is not the time!) and he had such a big and important role and his quips were genuinely great and funny and I loved everything he did. Apart from – but more on that later.

·       Ben Solo. Uh, other people have talked about his little shrug and his “ow” and his smile – oh god, his smile. Ben Solo is amazing. It’s a shame that – but more on that later.

·       I didn’t hate Rey Palpatine. I mean, I literally wrote this story when I was 13 when I made Hermione Voldemort’s daughter as a way of explaining her inner darkness and had her team up with Harry (with whom she had a telepathic bond) to destroy him. (You can read the story here if you really want to.) So it would be pretty hypocritical of me to hate this plotline. I enjoyed seeing angry, feral Rey on screen, I enjoyed seeing a female hero confronting her capacity for destruction and darkness. I was okay with the idea of a final face-off between a Palpatine and a Skywalker and how this is a way of bringing final balance to the Force. This was pretty interesting and I’d be up for this. I much prefer Rey Nobody but as a concept I’m not actually against it. Unfortunately the execution – but more on that later.

·       I really enjoyed more of Finn and Poe. I love both of them as characters. I mean I can’t think of a single bit of dialogue that was meaningful between them or what they accomplished in particular for they had some fun moments.

·       Finn and Jannah’s conversation about being ex-stormtroopers was a lovely scene, a moment of much-needed quiet and reflection and bonding in a film that was far too hectic and crowded. Shame it went nowhere.

·       Reylo kiss? I mean, that was cool.

·       Unironically, I loved Hux. He was snarky and his revelation of being the spy because he just hated Kylo that much got the biggest reaction in the cinema of the entire showing. Admittedly it was derisive laughter as we all realised what a clusterfuck of bad writing this film was, but still. It crossed over into so-bad-it’s-good territory. Hux gave me considerable pleasure in a film that otherwise made me very angry.

·       My favourite scene in the film was when Rey and Kylo fought on Pasaana over the transport ship with Chewie (apparently) on and Rey blows it up. The cinematography was amazing, it was a visual representation of both balance and building on the lightsaber breaking scene in TLJ while upping the stakes considerably and Rey’s reaction of visceral horror when she realised what she had done was truly shocking and unexpected. To have Chewie killed off so suddenly like this for no reason except that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the stakes are high and this is a desperate war with casualties – genius. A perfect way to make Rey and Ben even more similar – both having killed father figures – and have Rey confront her dark side as she wrestles with what she has done and the consequences of having a non-unified relationship with Ben while also being in a position to truly empathise with him – this was exactly the content I had signed up for. But it was the moment that it was revealed that Chewie was still alive that I realised what I’d only suspected before then: that this film was terrible and I would not be able to trust any emotion it was inviting me to feel.

Fundamentally, I think that this film is incredibly poorly written and emotionally dishonest. It is telling that I saw Jumanji 2 earlier in the day and out of the two films, the only point at which I cried was when Milo decided to stay in Jumanji as a horse. Why did I cry? Because Milo and Grandpa’s relationship had been gradually built up over the course of a film that was not afraid of quiet moments and building a narrative of a relationship that revealed what it needed over the course of several meaningful scenes. It allowed Milo’s decision to stay to be both a tragic loss but also a happy ending for him. Truly bittersweet and in a way that everyone can relate to. The loss of a dear friend to illness is a horrible but human thing to contemplate. To be able to set this friend free through a metaphor of a beautiful death and afterlife is genuinely moving and hopeful. Unfortunately TROS did not manage to give me any such emotions or elicit a single tear.

At least not till afterwards. I’ve subsequently cried a lot, some of it over the tragedy of Ben and Rey in a film that promised hope, but mainly for myself and the other (mainly) young female fans who have poured all their knowledge and intelligence into analysis of TFA and TLJ and who seemed to understand the story that was being told and who had been promised more of this story in the interviews and trailers released prior to this film – and who are now feeling like absolute garbage as this film throws out its own mythology for an incoherent, self-serving mess that in many ways defies analysis. The only thing I feel really capable of analysing is how much it doesn’t work, as opposed to what the film is trying to do. Where is the symbolism? Where is the metaphor? Where is the hero’s journey? Where is the heroine’s journey? Where is nuance? Where is everything that was set up in both TFA and TLJ? IDK, I can’t see it. It’s a kick in the teeth.

So, no matter how many individual things I was able to enjoy at the time when watching TROS, they end up being meaningless because the entire film was so bad. I can’t feel pleasure thinking about the good bits because they were mired in context (or lack of it). I can’t feel genuine sorrow about the fate of Rey and Ben because the execution of that fate was so poorly done. I don’t even mind that Ben died. It was always an option and the story of redemption followed by death is a very common story, a very Christian story. Though the death of Christ to save us from our sins, is crucially followed by resurrection. I mean, literally everyone can and does die. That doesn’t make you special. If you’re going for a Christ metaphor, you kind of need resurrection too. But I’m not sure that was exactly what they were going for with it; it was a mess and the execution made little internal consistency.

It may be that if I watched the film again, my problems would be lessened and I would see new things in them and they would make sense. I’ve read some twitter threads of people who are making connections and finding explanations on a second or third viewing. But the problem is that I shouldn’t need to see a film more than once to fundamentally understand it. I don’t mean picking up on new and interesting features and subtext which a good film, like a good book, rewards you with on multiple viewings. TLJ does that. But you should be able to follow what the ultimate meaning of a film is when you see it first.

If that is the case, then the ultimate meaning of TROS is that the good are good, the bad are bad, change is rewarded with death, a character who was once alone ends up alone again, plot coherency is sacrificed for whatever explosion or cool backwards-reference is needed at the time, death is not the end except when it is, there is no cosistency and consequently no emotional impact. And apparently it is a happy and hopeful ending? The tonal disconnect with the story being told and the way it was shot and the music being played and the clear intention of the people making the film is utterly jarring.

To famously quote Macbeth:

It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

This post is already too long so I will go into my criticisms in more detail in a further post. Stay tuned!

Read Part Two here.

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.8

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time, as trial 6 began to get crazy, the audience reared their ugly heads but with only vague hints of their terribleness so far, Danganronpa might possibly be on its last legs already, Tsumugi and the audience spent way too long babbling about their fandom while ignoring the actual characters and story they’re supposed to be here for, Flashback Lights had to be able to create the personalities and talents of everyone here because that’s just necessary for this story’s premise, and Tsumugi started insisting this means that nobody here is real in any sense at all, which is utter bullshit that would have been immediately and comprehensively shut down by Kaito’s wonderful convictions and belief if only he were still here.

…But since Kaito’s not here, this is starting to work on Shuichi.

“Akane”:  “Isn’t this what you all wanted!?”

Keebo:  “…We wanted this?”

“Leon”:  “Yeah, you wouldn’t remember, but you guys were all from the outside world.”

Yes, they don’t remember, which means that they never wanted this! Just like how the Gonta who was executed for murder never meaningfully wanted to kill anyone, because he didn’t remember wanting it!

Also, all technicalities aside, Keebo definitely never wanted this, since there was never a previous owner of his body at all.

Pregame Shuichi:  “Number 154… My name is ****”

Pregame Shuichi’s name is redacted here, which suggests that he maybe wasn’t even called Shuichi Saihara. Since they’re creating entirely new characters, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to give them new names as well, after all.

…Except that we the players saw in the prologue that at least Kaede and Shuichi had the same names, so apparently not. But even though it’s kind of awkward that they did keep their names, that’s something else we can just put down to the fact that it had to be this way, otherwise the prologue would have been massive spoilers. As it is, the prologue is designed to reasonably make sense once we learn about how they supposedly wiped their memories of their talents when fleeing the Ultimate Hunt, even though that’s not actually what was going on there after all. If Kaede and Shuichi had had completely different names before the reset, it would have given way too many pointers towards the real truth.

Redacting the auditionees’ names in these recordings, then, rather than being a hint that their names were different, was likely just down to the producers having to protect their identities in case they didn’t get chosen.

These recordings could have been faked by Tsumugi in her lab during this chapter’s investigation, sure, because she’s a freaking shapeshifter and the stupid cospox thing should not be taken as evidence against anything. But if she did that, it would have made more sense for her to not redact the name, to further drive home the idea that this is you, Shuichi, and the person you think you are is just a lie. So the fact that the name is redacted supports the video being real.

Pregame Shuichi:  “I promise, if I get selected… I will work as hard as I can!”

No, if you get selected, you will very quickly stop existing. Did nobody tell you that? It… it seems nobody told them that.

Consider that this season is the first time the fourth wall has ever been broken and the process behind creating characters revealed for everyone to see. Without knowing about that, it’s somewhat reasonable that the audience might not realise that characters are created entirely from scratch each time. They might assume instead that the existing auditionees’ personalities are kept mostly intact and just modified to give them talents. So pregame Shuichi here is expecting to still be himself, just with added super detective powers.

It’s also a little odd that the audience doesn’t wonder why the characters they’ve watched in every Danganronpa series never once mentioned that they’re in Danganronpa. Perhaps the general assumption of the audience is that everyone is always somewhat acting because they want to put on a good show, and that the personalities of the characters they see really are lies to some extent?

Of course, random auditionees can’t necessarily be trusted not to break character (especially not when people are dying), and it certainly wouldn’t make a very good killing game if it were full of people super excited to be in a killing game, since that rather defeats the whole point of them fighting to survive and not kill each other. So obviously all the characters very much do need to be written entirely from scratch.

It is admittedly a little odd that these auditionees explicitly haven’t managed to figure this out. However, the people who’d want to audition would be a very specific subset of people who, A, kind of hate their lives and don’t mind throwing them away to be on Danganronpa, and/or B, probably quite like the idea of killing someone creatively in order to get famous. Anyone who’s already a kind, decent and caring sort of person like the characters who’ve actually been in this killing game (well, most of them) would never want to audition in the first place. So maybe that’s why the auditionees don’t question it, because the kind of person who’d audition is inherently the kind of person who misses the point of what really makes an entertaining killing game?

…I am definitely overthinking this, because as we’re going to see in due time, apparently the entire fucking audience misses the point, meaning that these auditionees are actually no more unrealistic than the rest of those morons out there. Think of this as more of a hypothetical: if the audience had been written better, this is how the auditionees could then be somewhat plausible. Though to be fair it would also be easier to just rewrite these bits to have the auditionees be fully aware that they’ll stop existing if they’re chosen, and/or to still hate their own lives but want to become the kind of heroes triumphing in the face of despair or at least dying for the sake of hope that Danganronpa is supposed to be about.

Pregame Shuichi:  “I will come up with the best, most gruesome murders, I promise! Everyone will love it!”

This should not be what everyone is watching for! Creative murders that make for an interesting puzzle in a class trial, sure, but gruesome murders are emphatically not the point of Danganronpa. If all the audience wanted was to see people dying horribly, there would be no reason to even make it a game and have the class trials! Nor would there be any point in the whole hope-versus-despair thing, which we’re sure going to be fervently told is totally the whole point later on.

Pregame Shuichi:  “And an Ultimate Detective hasn’t been the blackened yet, so I’m sure I can do that!”

It’s honestly kind of surprising none of the writers ever thought of that throughout all fifty-three seasons. And that this didn’t make them think “huh, that would be a novel plot twist, why don’t we do that with this guy?”.

Shuichi:  “… Wh-What… was that…?”

It wasn’t you, Shuichi. It was your body and your voice, but that’s all.

Shuichi:  “N-No… it can’t be! I’d never say something like—”

Monokuma:  “You wouldn’t say that now, but this is you before you became who you are now.”

In other words, it wasn’t him! Monokuma is straight-up agreeing with Shuichi that he wouldn’t say that, because the person in the video was a different person than him! So it doesn’t matter one bit what that creep in the video said. It’s not relevant to the person standing here.

I gather that there’s a proportion of the fandom that believes these videos were faked. Since there’s only the vague possibility of that but no explicit proof of it, I imagine that the biggest reason people believe this is simply out of not wanting to believe the videos are real, because they feel it compromises the characters they love if they were “really” these varying flavours of murdery asshole. I totally understand that feeling – god, the entire story would fall apart if Shuichi, Kaede and Kaito weren’t actually who they seemed to be – but… the videos don’t actually create that issue to begin with. Monokuma outright says here that the people they were before the Flashback Lights are not the same people that they are now. The videos don’t have to be faked for Shuichi and his friends’ characters to not be compromised by them – they never were in the first place.

It’s also relevant that Monokuma is the one to clarify this. While he and Tsumugi have kind of been interchangeable exposition machines for a while, Tsumugi is currently very pointedly trying to make Shuichi and his friends fall into despair by hammering home how fake their existences supposedly are. Since she would never say this, because it’s the complete opposite of what she’s trying to achieve, Monokuma has to be the one to point it out.

Tsumugi:  “When we saw your audition tape, we had a flash of inspiration. The weakest Ultimate Detective ever… Wouldn’t it be great to see him grow?”

I’m really not sure why that audition tape gave them this idea in particular. Sure he seemed a bit awkward, but mostly just creepily murder-happy, which isn’t exactly what you want in a hero. Still, however they got the idea… it was a good call. Shuichi’s character arc has been great.

Of course, they also decided it’d be totally necessary to sacrifice a perfectly good pianist and astronaut for the sake of this storyline. Which was also a great story, but much less intentionally on their part.

Pregame Shuichi:  “You mean… we were selected!?”

Pregame Kaito:  “We got picked!? Really!? Alright!”

Pregame Kaede:  “Wh-Whoa, really!? I’m selected for it, too!?”

We get shown this flashback to what apparently happened in the prologue as soon as they heard the words “killing game”. And yes, sure, we the out-universe audience never saw this part back then – but of course we didn’t. It would have been a gigantic spoiler. The game has not been averse to omitting certain things to prevent spoilers, like it also did with Kaede’s crime. We have precedent for the game lying to us, but only by omission. This is a somewhat bigger lie of omission than for Kaede, but it’s still much more reasonable to accept that the game hid a minute or two of conversation that did happen, rather than that it showed us an entire half-hour or so of events that didn’t happen.

Shuichi:  “We really… said that?”

Shuichi’s response here also suggests he may well have just actually watched footage of this – the game used its usual flashback format to show us this, but that’s just because it’d be the easiest way to do that. If they did see footage of that, it cannot be faked. Tsumugi may be a shapeshifter, but she’s only one person.

“Fuyuhiko”:  “The people you used to be are gone. You’re fictional characters now.”

Yes, they’re gone, so it doesn’t matter what kind of people they were! That video you just showed Shuichi means nothing about who he is now!

“Hiro”:  “So you got nowhere to return! All that stuff’s fiction, too!”

Himiko:  “Th-Then… my friends and family… My whole life before coming here…”

This is a legitimate thing for them to be upset about, though. It’s going to be so weird and difficult for them to come to terms with that as they start living normal lives once they’ve escaped: the idea that everything and everyone they expect to exist out there just doesn’t. They’re essentially going to have to treat it like all those people just died, and grieve for them, because they felt real to them until now.

(Himiko’s still not mentioning her master though and I am sad about that.)

“Mahiru”:  “The only place we fictional characters can live is in this fictional world. Only in this world. Only in Danganronpa.”

Maki:  “Only… in this world?”

Not for you, Maki! The outside world is better for you than the fictional world you thought you came from; there’s nobody forcing you to kill anyone out there! At least learning that her backstory is a lie shouldn’t be so bad for Maki, especially because her best friend who might have been the one person she’d be looking forward to seeing again was already dead. The orphanage doesn’t exist either, but her relationship with the rest of the kids there was probably less personal; at least this means there’s no orphanage of kids who will starve if she doesn’t keep killing people.

Tsumugi:  “You’re all fictional characters created to kill each other. It’s what the world wants. That’s why… there’s nowhere to run.”

This is also a legitimate concern. However real they may actually be, all the assholes out there apparently don’t acknowledge that, so they’ll be escaping into a world that isn’t even going to see them as people.

Himiko:  “E-Enough… I don’t want to know anything else! I’ve had enough!”

Tsumugi:  “Ah! That reaction…!”

“Junko”:  “Could it be… you fell into despair?”

Even if she did, Himiko’s still expressing her pain very openly rather than the empty, listless despair it could have been. Tenko would still be proud of her! …Though how you fall into despair is maybe not the best thing to be proud over.

“Makoto”:  “It’s times like these you need to look to your friends for support.”

“Hifumi”:  “However, all your friends are fictional, too.”

Clearly this isn’t enough despair for Tsumugi yet, though, because she’s about to go for where it really hurts. This is, of course, all bullshit, as their friends are exactly as fictional as they are – that is, not meaningfully fictional at all – but since they’re all dead it’s going to be harder to prove her wrong about that.

“Mikan”:  “For example… even Kaito’s illness was given to him as part of his character.”

In other words: you murdered Kaito, you fucking murderer. You gave him the most slow and painful death that any Danganronpa character has ever had to go through. The fact that him having the illness was scripted does not for a second mean that his pain wasn’t very, very real. Is Tsumugi ever going to properly acknowledge this and take responsibility for his suffering and death? Of course not.

I’m kind of sad that neither Maki nor Shuichi ever properly pick up on this and get appropriately angry at her for doing that to him, now that they know that Kaito’s death wasn’t really the unfortunate but natural death it seemed to be. I suppose it’s because they’re being too shaken by the “not real” bullshit right now to be able to properly hold onto the fact that Kaito’s death still really mattered and is still very worth getting worked up about.

Tsumugi:  “I was the one who came up with that plotline and gave him that virus.”

I mean, sure, you came up with the “Kaito dies from a virus” plotline. The entire delightful character arc that Kaito went through as a result of that? I highly, highly fucking doubt you had even the slightest inkling that any of that would happen.

(Also look at her still not properly admitting that she killed him.)

Tsumugi:  “I was also the one who came up with the plotline where you fell for Kaito.”

Nope. I’m calling complete bullshit on this one.

See, I don’t think Kaito was even necessarily meant to make Maki into his sidekick in the first place. Making Shuichi into his sidekick – sure, that was definitely planned as part of Shuichi’s arc that Tsumugi just mentioned. But Maki seems more to me like her intended purpose in the story, in-universely, was to kill someone because of her tragic backstory as an assassin. She could very easily have been the murderer in chapter 2 if she’d seen her own motive video like they were all supposed to. And while Shuichi is very noticeably weak in the normal sense of the word and therefore someone whom it’s easy to imagine Kaito would want to take under his wing, describing Maki’s problems as “weakness” is a lot less natural. It probably didn’t even occur to the in-universe writers that Maki was weak in the way they’d expect Kaito to do something about. Yet Kaito saw her weakness and chose to help her anyway, because he was more real than they were thinking of him as when they scripted out expected interactions between their planned characters.

So the idea that they’d give Maki an artificial crush on Kaito when they never even should have expected them to interact all that much in the first place seems very unlikely.

Then there’s the part where Maki’s crush on Kaito doesn’t feel artificial and arbitrary at all. Tenko’s crush on Himiko? Now that I can buy was something planned from the start, especially since she had it from the start. She mentions in her FTEs with Kaede that she really admires performers and that’s why she likes Himiko so much, but that alone should have made her even more into Kaede, who behaved much more like a performer than Himiko did at first. So apparently Tenko also just had a particular thing for cute little magical girls, which could therefore very believably have been written into her. But there’s never any sense that Maki was written with an inexplicable thing for larger-than-life space doofuses. And as I talked about with much satisfaction when Maki confessed her feelings, the focus was on the friendship she had with Kaito – the friendship that Tsumugi likely didn’t even expect to happen in the first place. Her feelings grew from that friendship over her time with him and did not exist to begin with – she said she “fell for” him, not that she was always in love with him. So no, Maki’s feelings for Kaito were entirely something that happened on their own and were not planned.

Himiko:  “Then, what about Tenko? Was she always defending me because—”

But even for feelings that were almost certainly scripted, that doesn’t really matter on the whole either. Tenko still genuinely cared about Himiko as a result of her crush, regardless of whether that’s what the writers wanted of her. She didn’t know she was following someone’s script. And Kaito supporting Shuichi may have also been scripted, but that doesn’t invalidate how much he cared either, nor make his support of Shuichi any different to his support of Maki just because one was scripted and one probably wasn’t.

“Kazuichi”:  “Because that was her character. It’s the same for me, too.”

(Excuse me, there was plenty more to Kazuichi’s character than just his pathetic crush on Sonia, please and thank you.)

Maki:  “Y-You’re telling us… this is all a lie? Even… my feelings…? Are you saying even *those* were lies!?”

However, this is really getting to Maki, exactly like Tsumugi wants it to. And this isn’t about Maki having put her romantic feelings on a pedestal and being upset because romantic love is totally superior to platonic love. It’s because, like I talked about back when she confessed, these feelings were supposed to finally be something that was her own. Something she’d come to feel entirely by herself, without anyone else, not even Kaito, telling her to or wanting her to, without anyone moulding her to be this way. But because she’s so used to the idea that all she ever is is a puppet for someone else’s whims, she’s much more liable to believe Tsumugi’s claim without questioning it. She doesn’t have enough confidence in her own feelings yet to be able to try and stand up for them like other people (like especially Kaito himself) would. Turns out nothing was her own after all, her feelings and desires really didn’t ever matter, and she’s only ever going to be controlled by people with far more power than her who don’t care about her at all. This is not specifically about romantic love and is really Maki being hit right in the issues that she’d finally been getting somewhere with.

(Though I kind of doubt Tsumugi realises that she’s targeting Maki’s issues so directly with this. She’s probably just saying this because to her this is all about romantic love which is obviously the most importantest bestest kind of love ever and so Maki must be sooo sad to think it’s all fake, right?)

And if Maki’s feelings towards Kaito had never turned romantic? Tsumugi wouldn’t be able to claim this at all. “Oh, hey, the fact that you see this person as your friend and care about them because of everything they’ve done for you? Yeah, those feelings are fake, they don’t mean anything, I made you feel that way, you don’t really care about them and all the things they did for you at all.” Doesn’t work, does it? Because feelings of friendship cannot come out of nowhere like romantic ones sometimes can. Which is why, in an out-universe sense, Maki’s feelings did need to be partly romantic for this to work. And it’s also why Tsumugi can’t take quite the same approach with Shuichi, even though his friendship with Kaito actually was scripted, because Shuichi’s actual platonic feelings there would have naturally arisen thanks to Kaito’s actions and were therefore very obviously not artificially induced.

Tsumugi:  “Well, if you’re going to call fiction a lie… then yes.”

Fiction is technically a lie in the sense that it’s something untrue, but it’s otherwise quite different from lies in that it’s not meant to deceive anyone. Everyone consuming fiction knows that it’s untrue and just enjoys being able to suspend their disbelief and pretend that it’s true for little bit anyway.

That said, Maki’s feelings for Kaito, and her existence as Maki the Ultimate Child Caregiver/Assassin, and everyone else’s existences, are neither a lie nor fiction in the first place.

Tsumugi:  “Everything in this world has a writing credit. All our words and actions…”

No, they don’t! You are not scripting every single word that has been coming out of everyone’s mouths! There were some events that the writers managed to influence, sure, and those can be considered to have a writing credit. But not even remotely all of it. And not most of the best parts, for that matter.

Tsumugi:  “…are just a bunch of lies.”

They’re not lies if the person saying so doesn’t know it’s not true! Gonta was not lying when he said he didn’t kill Miu, nor was he lying when he said he was raised by a race from a decades-old videogame. Nor was anyone lying when they did or said anything that they believed was the truth from those memories they were given.

Tsumugi:  “Even that thing Kaede said that moved Shuichi’s heart…”

Shuichi:  “…What?”

…

Kaede:  “I believe in you, so you should definitely believe in yourself!”

…

Tsumugi:  “That was a lie! Cuz the real Kaede said…”

Pregame Kaede:  “I’m perfect for a killing game. I don’t have any faith in humanity.”

The Kaede who said she believed in Shuichi was not lying and was no less real than the other one. Tsumugi is conveniently avoiding talking about the part where they’re completely different people (something Monokuma has already established) so that she can try and give the impression that our pianist Kaede was obviously completely insincere and knowingly lying and following a script.

Also, remember the very first post of this commentary where I made note of pregame Kaede talking about how rotten the world is? Yeah, that matches this quite well. And the thing is, Tsumugi probably doesn’t even know that pregame Kaede made that comment, and even if she does it’s not like she’d care to make an effort to match it, because Shuichi isn’t going to remember that. That match is something that’s only there for the out-universe audience to pick up on. So if Tsumugi did fake this video, it sure is an oddly specific coincidence that pregame Kaede’s words match so well. As such, it makes a lot more sense to me to assume that this video is real.

Why did pregame Kaede even think that having no faith in humanity made her perfect for this, though??? Does she not realise that obviously the kind of person who makes the killing game interesting is someone who does believe in people and has that belief battered and tested as they watch their friends kill each other? But as frustrating as this is, again, someone who did realise that wouldn’t be the kind of person who’d ever want to audition in the first place.

…And, again, the entire audience are going to turn out to be assholes who completely miss the point, so all complaints about the auditionees’ attitudes should just be lumped in with complaints about that, of which I will be having plenty soon enough. Practically everything wrong with this chapter boils down to how badly-written the audience is.

Tsumugi:  “And who could forget Kaito’s inspiring line?”

…

Kaito:  “Don’t forget! The impossible is possible! All you gotta do is make it so!”

…I can accept that this line of Kaito’s might have been scripted. He said it a few times, like it’s a phrase he just liked to say a lot, even in his backstory (maybe to his former sidekicks), so this was probably written into him. But that does not matter. He had no idea he was following anyone’s script and said it for his own reasons while meaning every word of it.

Uggghhhh look at this absolute asshole here. There is nothing in this world that can ever convince me that this was, in any meaningful way, the same person as our heroic Luminary of the Stars who supported his friends with everything he had and selflessly put himself through untold extra pain because he was convinced that doing otherwise would let everyone down. But I do appreciate the painful jarringness of how completely opposite pregame Kaito was to the Kaito we’ve come to know and love, at least.

And it also matches quite well with the face we saw pregame Kaito making when they arrived in the gym, again back in the very first post of this commentary. That was not a situation in which Tsumugi could have been faking it, and you can’t convince me that that was ever the same person as our Kaito, either.

Pregame Kaito:  “I’m not just gonna be in Danganronpa, I’m gonna kill everybody and win!”

That’s not even how it works! Pretty soon it’s going to be made apparent that everything always ended with hope winning, so a blackened has never managed to kill everybody and win, and if they did, that wouldn’t make a very entertaining story! (Grumble grumble unrealistic asshole audience, please file these complaints with the rest that will be coming later. Such complaints about the auditionees certainly shouldn’t be taken as evidence of the videos being faked, because the rest of the asshole audience that we see very definitely exists.)

It does seem that the in-universe writers might have got the idea for Kaito’s reckless stubbornness and inability to accept the possibility of failure from this person here, who is brazenly refusing to acknowledge the extremely high chance that he’ll just end up dead.

Pregame Kaito:  “Once I’ve got fame and fortune, I don’t gotta worry about what’s impossible.”

But evidently this dude was also just a selfish asshole who didn’t give a fuck about anybody else and was quite happy to slaughter a bunch of people just to get what he wanted. The absolute least Kaito he could possibly be in all the most important ways. It’s an insult to Kaito that this guy shared his name and appearance.

(If Kaito were alive and seeing this video? It’d barely shake him at all. He’d just go, “Well, that’s not me,” in the most straightforward, isn’t-it-obvious tone of voice ever, and that’d be that. His conviction in who he is would be far too strong for this to get to him like it’s getting to the others.)

Tsumugi:  “Every single thing that has happened in this killing game… is a lie!”

Shuichi:  (It’s all… a lie?)

Unfortunately, while Tsumugi is quite obviously lying if you think about it for even a few seconds, Shuichi can’t see that.

Shuichi:  (The reason we’re all here right now is because of them… Because of them… I was able to change. That’s why I was trying to live for them, too… I was trying so hard to stay positive… But… if even that’s a lie…)

It’s no coincidence that Tsumugi chose specifically Kaede and Kaito to do this for, because they were the people Shuichi depended on the most for his strength and confidence. Even though they’re not here any more, he’s still so dependent on the memories of who they were, to the point that upon hearing that they never existed, seeing supposed “proof” of that, he loses the strength to even question it. It just breaks him.

Since Tsumugi actually wrote the gist of Shuichi’s character arc, including the part where he came to rely on both Kaede and Kaito, she might at least have a reasonably good idea of what she’s doing this time. The thought that’d hurt Shuichi the most isn’t the supposed loss of his own feelings, like with Maki, but rather the supposed loss of his friends’ feelings and support towards him.

If Kaito and Kaede were only still here, they’d both be doing everything they could to reassure Shuichi that what Tsumugi’s saying doesn’t matter. Even if their support of him was scripted and planned, it doesn’t change the fact that that feeling of wanting to help him was real to them and not a lie they’d never have done anything else even if they’d known the mastermind wanted them to do this. But… they’re not here any more. So it’s heartbreakingly easy for Shuichi to forget how real and genuine their support felt when it was happening, now that they’ve faded into memories. Especially now that he’s learned that most of his memories were entirely fake to begin with, giving him the sense that he can’t trust anything that he thought he knew and believed was real.

I really love the way the game shows a collage of illustrations of Shuichi being inspired by both Kaede and Kaito, and then just makes them twist and swirl into nothingness, reflecting exactly what’s happening with Shuichi’s perception of them. And all his strength came from them, so if he didn’t ever really have them… he had nothing, right?

(Also Heartless Journey is playing and I am rather giving myself some sads here.)

Shuichi:  “… Why… am I here? Why did I even survive this long?”

Shuichi’s had his exhausted-looking sprite for a while here. It’s especially fitting in this moment, considering where his mind was at when we saw him looking like this last chapter, and the fact that he’s been driven to wondering what was even the point of him surviving. Noooo, Shuichi.

“Hajime”:  “This is fiction. There is no greater meaning.”

Shuichi wasn’t chosen to be the hero and survive until the end like this just by meaningless random chance, though. It was because the story of someone weak like him overcoming his weakness and growing stronger despite all his struggles is a meaningful story that can inspire people.

However, the fact that Tsumugi seems to genuinely believe that there’s nothing meaningful to fiction is going to be her downfall. Really, it was a bad move for her to even reveal to everyone that they are fictional, because that’s going to allow Shuichi to protest against this sick practice and end not just this game but all of them. But Tsumugi probably didn’t even realise what a risk that was, because it apparently doesn’t occur to her that there could be more to them being fictional and that they could even do anything but despair over its meaninglessness.

“Junko”:  “How ‘bout that? You in despair yet? It will be troublesome for us if you don’t despair under our rule.”

Yep, that’s exactly why Tsumugi has been doing all this. If she can get everyone to despair, then Keebo will come swooping in with his hope robot powers and the audience will still get a story they want, despite how very off-script things have gotten. That’s why she’s been telling such blatant lies about how fictional everyone supposedly is.

(Also, her “Junko” has been switching personalities a lot more lately. I guess that’s just to match with the switching personalities in general, or perhaps to be more of a direct callback to the first game than she was earlier now that literally everything else she’s doing is callbacks.)

“Junko”:  “Viewers flock to see your despair. That’s why all those people out there look sooo happy! See!?”

“Shuichi’s reaction LOL”

“LOL the face of despair.”

“Mmm, Shuichi’s despair <3”

“despair taaaimu!”

“You’re all in despair LOL”

“S-tier despair!”

Aaaaaand right about here is where the outside world just completely stops being recognisable human beings in any shape or form. This here is a general grab bag of some of the things that are being said, none of which is remotely like how any actual person should react to seeing a fictional character’s despair.

Yes, I have also been enjoying Shuichi’s despair this whole time. But I’ve been enjoying it in the sense that it’s been making me empathise with him and feel his pain. It makes me desperately want to reach into the screen to encourage him and help him in any way I can even though I know that’s not possible because this is how the story goes. If I was reacting in this completely detached, alien, “hurr durr lol despair” way that doesn’t seem to even remotely care about the characters themselves, that’d be the story failing to do its job properly!

Where was that person from near the beginning who was cheering “You can do it, Shuichi!”? They should still be cheering him on, trying to tell him that his friends weren’t all lies and neither is he and he can still do this if he doesn’t give up! The whole point of despair in these Danganronpa narratives is supposed to be so that people can root for hope to overcome it!

…It’s worthwhile to mention that there’s a good chance these comments are deliberately cherry-picked to be the ones most gleeful over the despair, since the hope fans are soon going to start showing up in droves, but even so, geez, these people. Have some fucking empathy.

(Though next time we will also see that the rest of the audience who are rooting for hope aren’t really doing so in a way that involves empathising with and caring about Shuichi’s pain either, so, eh.)

Shuichi:  “Is this what the outside world wants? Is this what they want from us?”

It makes sense that this would be what they want from a character they’re insisting on seeing as fictional, but it does not make sense that they would want it for this purpose! Almost nobody should ever want it like this!

Monokuma:  “Well, yelling for help is useless for fictional characters anyway. It makes the viewers even more depraved and obsessed when they feel sorry for you.”

Yes! Feeling sorry for them, that’s the point! This is the closest anything in this narrative ever gets to talking about the actual reason why watching fictional characters suffer is enjoyable – because it makes you care about them more, it makes you want to engage with the story more in your in-universe desire to see them overcome it and feel better, it makes the story have more of an effect on you! “Depraved” is a really uncharitable word for this – although maybe that’s more specifically for this context where they’re actually watching this happen to real people, in which case, yes it very much is.

Monokuma:  “They watch, knowing that they shouldn’t, just to revel in the depravity of it all.”

The “knowing that they shouldn’t” part is after all something that only applies to watching real people die. Nobody in the actual real world should feel guilty for enjoying Danganronpa games because characters die in them – that’s the point. Nor should anyone feel guilty for enjoying any fiction where bad things happen, because that’s one of the main ways to create conflict, which is one of the driving forces of a story. If the narrative presents the bad things in a way that implies they’re okay to do in the real world, that’s another matter – but bad things happening in and of themselves do not make a fiction wrong to enjoy.

Shuichi:  “It’s all a lie… isn’t it? Me… Everyone here… Everyone who died…”

Their deaths were not lies, Shuichi!

Shuichi:  “I can’t fight… for a lie, can I?”

You thought it was worth fighting for before you knew it was a “lie”! Why should the fact that she’s calling it that change anything? You know the killing game still happened!

Around this point, Clair de Lune – Kaede’s piano song – kicks in as BGM. It’s pretty lovely and appropriate and heartbreaking.

Tsumugi:  “No matter how much you grow, Shuichi, you’re still weak after all… Now that you know it’s all lies, you’ve gone back to the weak Ultimate Detective…”

She’s not wrong here. Now that the friends he depended on so much for his strength aren’t here any more, now that she’s convinced him that they never really existed at all… he still has the potential to be as weak as he always was without them, just like he always had the potential to be strong if he did have their support.

This concept might be why this is working so much on Shuichi, Maki and Himiko in particular. All three of them started off weak, and only grew stronger thanks to the events of this killing game and the support their friends gave them. Upon hearing that all of that was supposedly fake, it wouldn’t be hard to see how that’d bring them right back to where they started.

That’s also why none of this would work nearly so well on Kaito if he were still here – because he started off strong, and still had a good amount of that strength by the end even if the killing game had weakened him in a lot of ways, such that it wouldn’t go away just because he’s being told it’s a lie.

(And all of my yelling at Shuichi isn’t trying to imply that he’s being stupid to not realise all this – I know that he’s still weak enough in some regards that he’d let this break him apart. I just wish I could help him, like an actual person would.)

Himiko:  “…”

Himiko’s no longer expressing her despair in a loud, emotional way and is just being depressed and listless like she used to be. Hearing that Tenko’s concern for her was all planned and scripted probably pushed her back into that.

Tsumugi:  “Well, that was surprisingly disappointing… But I guess it’s okay! We’re still on script!”

Not even being subtle. This was entirely a ploy to keep things vaguely on the generic Danganronpa hope-versus-despair script so that Keebo could do his thing.

Shuichi:  “Everything’s a lie… Everything’s meaningless… Everything we’ve done, everything we’ve faced together…”

You still faced that together! Kaede and Kaito still died for you! That’s not meaningless, no matter what else around it might have been a lie!

The shutting-down sound effects used when a protagonist stops being the protagonist are really quite appropriate here. It very much feels like Shuichi.exe has encountered a problem and needs to reboot, and it’s going to take him a while to do that.

---

[Next post]

[theangelssecondwing]

Chapter 10

It wasn‘t easy to pretend that everything was normal. While Director Lazard had promised to keep us updated, there were no news on Genesis‘ whereabouts for a long time, and he didn‘t show up again. Sephiroth and Angeal were occasionally sent on new assignments, but none of them were particularly long, and they usually returned within a day or two. Then, one day, they returned and asked Yui and me to meet up at my place again.

„Clones“, Sephiroth said grimly as we sat down on my couch.

„Clones?“, Yui asked.

Sephiroth nodded. „We were attacked by a surprising amount of people looking like exact copies of Genesis.“

„So wait, you think Hollander is out there, cloning my boyfriend?“, Yui asked, sounding positively appalled.

„It‘s a reasonable assumption, don‘t you think?“, Angeal asked. „How else could this be explained?“

„I suppose you‘re right, but the question is… why? What could he possibly gain from creating an army of Genesis clones?“, I asked.

Angeal lifted an eyebrow. „You mean apart from having an army of 1st class SOLDIER powered superhumans under his command?“

„Hm. I knew something was off about this guy, but not in the ‚establishing a clone army to take over the world‘ way.“

„Nobody had any idea just how mad this madman is“, Angeal replied grimly. „Otherwise, Shinra wouldn‘t have employed him.“

„You sure?“, Sephiroth asked in a deadpan voice. „I mean they also employ Hojo, who treats the entire world like its his third grade science kit. Shinra has a tendency to specifically employ the maddest of madmen they can find.“

„That‘s not true. You‘re not a madman“, I countered.

„Are you really sure about that?“, he asked teasingly, putting an arm around my shoulders.

„The point is: There have been no further developments, and your orders are basically to eradicate any Genesis clones and forget about the whole ordeal otherwise. It feels like Shinra has just given up on Genesis, and if we want to save him, we have to do it independently of the company“, Yui stated.

„As we have already established. But Director Lazard is keeping us busy lately. Almost like he doesn‘t want us to have the time to dwell on the topic“, Sephiroth mused. „Good thing that as 1st Class SOLDIER, we do have right to refuse certain orders. That could grant us at least a bit of time to investigate. We would only have to find out where to start.“

„I can do that!“, I exclaimed. „I work in the archives. I can get all information on Hollander, including all sites where he worked while in the employment of Shinra. Most of these sites have been abandoned by now, but I‘m sure we can find some kind of clue somewhere in one of these labs!“

„Great idea, Cora. So you gather as much intel as you can, and then we all meet up here again once you have enough, so we can plan our next step.“

The next day, during lunch break, I snuck away into the archives, which at this time were deserted. Surely there was something I could find… I was so distracted while going through the endless masses of files that I didn‘t hear the footsteps until the person they belonged to cleared their throat. I yelped and lost my balance on the ladder I was standing on, falling backwards, crashing hard onto the floor and hitting my head, so stars exploded in front of my eyes.

„Ow...“, I groaned and rubbed the back of my head until the pain subsided a little and I could see again. Luckily, the filing cabinets weren‘t particularly high, or I could have gotten seriously injured.

„Serves you right for snooping around here all alone.“

I recognized that voice. I got up, though my back was killing me. „Vice President. Sir. Is there anything I can do for you?“ I got to my feet, but wobbled a little and Rufus actually motioned to catch me in case I would fall. But I stood, so he returned to his stoic posture of keeping his arms behind his back.

„Nothing in particular. I just saw you walk in here and got curious. While I do appreciate eagerness in my staff, something tells me that you haven‘t come here during lunch break to get some extra work done.“

My breath hitched in my throat ever so slightly. But still, there was nothing hostile about him. „Who knows. Maybe I was just curious myself.“

„Did curiosity lead you to the shelf specifically dedicated to information about the researchers in our employment?“, he asked without humor.

I grit my teeth. „And if that were the case?“

„I would like to know why.“ For just a split second, there was something akin to fondness in his features, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. „You used to trust me. So why can‘t you trust me now?“

„Because we were both different people back then“, I retorted.

Rufus looked at me for just a little moment longer, before pointing at a specific part of the shelf. „You will find what you‘re looking for there. Make sure that you and your friends make short work of Hollander, and keep the whole thing quiet afterwards.“

„Huh? You know?“

He smirked. „My father is so caught up in his own ego that he doesn‘t realize what is going on around him anymore. But I‘m not like that. You should know that.“ Then he turned around, giving me a dismissive wave. „As long as what you‘re doing doesn‘t endanger Shinra Corp‘s reputation or endeavors, I will not hinder you. In fact, it seems you are more willing to be helpful than Lazard is currently. Whenever I ask about the status of the operation around finding the doctor and our wayward SOLDIER, all I get are platitudes and excuses. So go ahead, and do tell me if you need a few days off for your investigations.“

I waited until he was gone, then I scrambled up the ladder again, despite my aching back, and got out a few files that indeed contained the information I needed.

During the subsequent meeting in my apartment, which turned into a headquarter for our private missions more and more, we concluded that our best starting point would be the reactor in Sector 5 of the city. Sephiroth stayed with me the night before they wanted to go investigate it, to ease my mind since I wouldn‘t join them. We were in my bedroom, Sephiroth already lounging on my bed and reading a book while I changed into my nightgown. I had bought it a few days before, in a sudden urge to get myself some sexier nightwear. I still couldn‘t believe that a nice nightgown like that actually existed in my size. It was black silk, with spaghetti straps and lace on the hems, and ended right underneath my butt. It actually didn‘t look too bad on me. Still I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror mounted to the door of my wardrobe as if it was my worst enemy facing me. But it wasn‘t the deep self-loathing I used to feel. More like casual annoyance.

„What‘s this?“, Sephiroth exclaimed suddenly, and I turned around and approached the bed. An old photograph had slipped out from between the pages of the book. It showed a pair of children; a stern-looking boy with short, blonde hair and a pudgy girl with her dark hair in two braids.

„Oh. I completely forgot that was in there.“

But Sephiroth hardly seemed to notice me. He picked up the picture to take a closer look. „...That‘s you? With Rufus Shinra?“

„Yes“, I replied and sat down next to him.

He turned his head to me. „...I don‘t understand. I thought you hated each other.“

„That wasn‘t always the case, though.“

„Oh? Why didn‘t you tell me you used to be so close to him?“

„There are days where I forget that myself. We haven‘t really spoken to each other beyond polite, empty banter in years.“ I took the photo and gave it a long, thoughtful look, before stopping short. „Wait… is that a hint of jealousy I hear?“

„Possibly. Especially since your father seems so obsessed with you marrying him.“ Sephiroth‘s voice had become harder.

I let out a deep, resigned sigh. „And that was the problem.“

„What do you mean?“ I got comfortable, laying down next to Sephiroth. „Rufus and I used to be best friends. My father tried to suck up to the Shinras enough to make me seem like wife-material for Rufus from pretty much the moment the doctor said ‚It‘s a girl!‘. So I often spent summer vacation at the Shinra estate. Rufus and I were both rich kids with absentee parents, and we bonded over that. Became like brother and sister, we even started calling each other brother and sister eventually. He kept me safe from bullies, I brought him candy when he was frustrated. Our fathers were delighted, of course. After all, us getting along would make setting us up with each other easier, right?“

Sephiroth tilted his head attentively. „One might assume.“

„Well, no. Not in our case. As I said, we were like family to each other. But pretty much as soon as I started puberty, they upped their efforts to force us to fall in love. That went from forcing us to spend even more time together, which was honestly fine by us, to setting up ‚romantic‘ meetings for us and calling public attention to us while we were together. And it just got so uncomfortable that we started avoiding being seen together. We never said more than necessary to each other from that point onward. Then he started working for his father‘s company and he… changed.“ I paused for a bit, trying to find the right words. „It‘s true what people say. He never cried as a child. But he also wasn‘t always the complete jerk he is nowadays. But once he became involved in Shinra Corp., he became cold and cruel. And that was the end of even the last remains of our friendship.“ I tightened my hands into fists. „I will never forgive my father for this.“

Sephiroth had become a lot more relaxed while I was talking, and let me snuggle up to him. „And you shouldn‘t. I‘m so sorry.“

„It‘s okay. That‘s just how it is sometimes.“ I sniffled a little, upset by the memories of days long gone. But thanks to Sephiroth‘s warmth, I soon drifted off, the photo still in my hand.

[justsomewritingblogg]

Avatar: TLA  (part 13 of many)

Request:  None

Requested By:  Nobody

Pairing:  Zuko x reader

Summary:  The Cave of Two Lovers

Warnings:  None?

A/N:  This one was so fun to write!

Word Count:  2K+

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

“You guys are gonna be done soon, right?”  Sokka asked, floating by on a large leaf.  “We have a lot of ground to cover if we want to make it to Omashu today.”

Katara was currently training Aang, while Sokka relaxed, Momo on his stomach, and you practiced your bending.

“What?  Like you’re ready to go now, naked guy?”  Katara asked.

“I can be ready in two minutes.  Seriously.  Whenever.”

“So, you were showing me the octopus form.”  Aang told Katara, trying to bring her attention back to the matters at hand.  You turned your attention to Sokka, debating about messing with him, or continuing to practice.  You decided on both.  You summoned a large wave, and had begun to move it towards him when you heard music.  The wave crashed down around you, you had lost your focus, and you looked to the shore, where the music was coming from.  A group of people wearing bright colors, flower crowns and necklaces emerged.  Most of them held an instrument of some kind.

“Hey!  River people!”  One spoke.

“We’re not river people.”  Katara informed.

“You’re not?  Then what kind of people are you?”

“Just people.”  Aang said.

“Aren’t we all, brother.”

“Who are you?”  Sokka asked, walking forward.

“I’m Chong, this is my wife, Lily.  We’re nomads.  Happy to go wherever the wind takes us.”

“Oh, boy.”  You muttered, turning away.

“You guys are nomads?  That’s great!  I’m a nomad!”  Aang exclaimed.

“Hey!  Me, too!”

“I know.  You just said that.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh.  Nice underwear.”  Chong said.  You raised an eyebrow and turned, seeing he was looking at Sokka.  You stepped in front of him, blocking the teen from the travelers’ view.

“Can we help you with something?”  You asked, crossing your arms.

“No.  We were just passing through.  Going wherever the wind takes us.”

You bit back a groan of annoyance.  “Look, how about letting us get dressed, then we can talk.”  You bargained.  They nodded, but didn’t turn around.  You did a hand-motion, and Appa walked over, blocking you all from view.  “Thanks, buddy.  Extra food for you.”  You whispered to him, petting his fur.  You leapt on him, tossing your friends their clothes.  Aang was the first to change, Katara second.  You tossed Sokka his clothes and hopped off Appa, going behind a rock to get changed, yourself.

When you and Sokka emerged, Appa had pink bows in his fur, and a lot of it was braided.

“Hey, Sokka, Y/n!  You should hear some of these stories.”  Aang informed.  “These guys have been everywhere.”

“Well, not everywhere, little arrow head.”

“Little arrow head?”  You echoed.  Chong ignored your comment.

“But where we haven’t been, we’ve heard about through stories and songs.”

“He said they’ll take us to see a giant night-crawler.”  Aang informed.  You and Sokka looked pretty unimpressed.

“On the way there’s a waterfall that creates a never-ending rainbow.”  One of the travelers said.

“Look, I hate to be the wet blanket here, but since Katara is busy, I guess it’s up to me.”  Sokka said.  Katara was getting flowers braided into her hair as she cast a glare towards her brother.  You pursed your lips to contain a smile.  “We need to get to Omashu.  No sidetracks, no worms, and definitely no rainbows.”  He said, pointing to the man that had spoken earlier.

“Wow.  Sounds like someone’s got a case of destination fever.”  Chong let out a chuckle.  “You worry too much about where you’re going.”

“Where you’re going is important.”  You retorted, crossing your arms.

“You’ve got to focus less on the where and more on the going.”  Lily spoke, briefly pausing her braiding.

“O. Ma. Shu.”  Sokka determined.

“Sokka’s right.  We need to find King Bumi so Aang can learn earthbending somewhere safe.”  Katara voiced.

“Well sounds like you’re headed to Omashu.”  Chong said.  Sokka slapped his forehead, while you fought the urge to join him.  “There’s an old story about a secret pass right through the mountains.”

“Is this real, or a legend?”  Katara asked, skeptical.

“Oh, it’s a real legend.  And it’s as old as earthbending itself.”  He began playing a tune, while the other travelers joined in.  You and Sokka raised an eyebrow, glancing at each other with similar annoyed expressions.  It practically looked like you were looking into a mirror.  You were both pulled from your focus when you heard a loud, “secret tunnel!  Secret tunnel!!”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cover your ears and groan, or burst out laughing.  He ended the song and everyone but you and Sokka clapped.

“I think we’ll just stick with flying.”  Sokka informed, raising an eyebrow.  “We’ve dealt with the firenation before.  We’ll be fine.”  He said, moving to stand next to Aang, who stood.

“Yeah.  Thanks for the help, but Appa hates going underground.  And we need to do whatever makes Appa most comfortable.”  He said, smiling.

“Right.  Cause getting pink flowers braided into his fur is totally comfortable.”  You mumbled.

Let’s just say, for the sake of your pride, flying didn’t end well.  You all drug your feet back to the travelers, ash marks all over your clothes and bodies.

“Secret love cave.  Let’s go.”  Sokka voiced quietly, resigned.

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

“How far away is the tunnel?”  Sokka asked.

“Actually, it’s not just one tunnel.”  Chong answered.  “The lovers didn’t find anyone to find out about their love, so they built a whole labyrinth.”  He explained.  You and Sokka stopped dead in your tracks.

“Labyrinth?”  Sokka asked, turning around.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”  Chong assured.  Sokka resumed walking, as did the rest, but Aang sent you an odd look on his face, making you think he could see the smoke coming out of your ears that you felt.

“All you need to do is trust in love.”  Lily informed.  You turned around.

“I quit.”  You said, beginning to walk in the other direction.

“According to the curse.”  She added.  Sokka stopped in his tracks.

“Curse!?”  He grumbled.

“Go on without us.  We’ll find another way around.”  You mumbled.  Sokka turned and began to follow you, but Katara and Aang grabbed you, pulling you back with them.

“Hey!  We’re here!”  Chong announced, a few moments later.

“What exactly is this curse?”  Sokka asked.

“The curse says that only those who trust in love can make it through the caves.  Otherwise, you’ll be trapped in them forever.”  Chong answered.

“And die.”  Lily added.

“Oh, yeah.  And die.”  Chong added.  “Hey!  I just remembered the rest of that song!”  He stepped forward and played a single strum on his instrument.  “And die!”  He sang.  You ran your hand down your face.

“Oh my word.”  You mumbled.

“That’s it!  There’s no way we’re going through some cursed hole!”  Sokka determined.

“Hey!  Someone’s making a big campfire!”  The man who mentioned the rainbow said.

“That’s no campfire, Moku.”  Katara informed.  Oh, so he has a name.

“It’s firenation.”  Sokka added.  “They’re tracking us.”  He deduced.

“So all you need is to trust in love to get through these caves?”  You heard Aang ask.

“That is correct, master arrow-head.”  Chong answered.  You rolled your eyes, before looking back at Aang, who was staring at the back of Katara’s head.

“We can make it.”  He determined.  You cocked an eyebrow.

“Everyone, into the hole!”  Sokka instructed.  You and Appa groaned, though his were louder.  You hadn’t made it very far into the cave when you felt the earth tremble.  You all turned towards the entrance, seeing big boulders fall, blocking the light.  Blackness consumed everyone’s vision.

“Fantastic.”  You grumbled.  A light was lit, allowing you to see Appa, pawing at the entrance, trying to escape.

“It’s alright, Appa.  We’ll be fine.”  Katara assured.  “I hope.”

“We will be fine.  All we need is a plan.”  Sokka determined.  “Chong, how long do those torches last?”

“Uhh…..about two hours each.”

“And we have five torches.”  Lily said.  “So that’s ten hours.”  She said, lighting the other candles.  You hung your head, shaking it in annoyance.

“It doesn’t work like that if they’re all lit at the same time!”  Sokka exclaimed, grabbing the torches, throwing them on the ground, and stomping them out.

“Oh.  Right.”  Lily remembered.

“I’m going to make a map, to keep track of exactly where we’ve been.”  Sokka said, digging through Appa’s saddle.  “Then we should be able to solve it like a maze, and get through.”  He said, sliding down Appa and stepping forward.

You walked around for a while.  You hung around in the back, not really paying too much attention to where you were going, since everyone was following Sokka.  You were paying enough attention, however, to know that you’ve had to turn around more than once.

“Sokka, this is the tenth dead end you’ve led us to.”  Katara informed.

“This doesn’t make any sense.  We already came through this way.”  Sokka exclaimed.

“We don’t need a map.”  Chong informed.  “We just need love.”  You rolled your eyes, thankful the shadows hid the action.  “The little guy knows it.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind a map, also.”  Aang replied.

“There’s something strange here.”  Sokka commented.  “And there’s only one explanation.”  He turned around, facing everyone.  “The tunnels are changing.”  He determined.  Just after he got the words out of his mouth, the ground began to rumble.  You felt the earth around you shift.

“The tunnels.  They’re changing.  It must be the curse.”  Chong said, clutching his head.  “I knew we shouldn’t have come down here.”

“If I remember correctly, it was your idea.”  You confronted, crossing your arms.

“Wait, quiet!  Everyone, listen.”  Katara instructed.  Your ears strained, trying to pick up any noises.  You heard something.  Like a growl, or murmur.  It sounded like it was coming from an animal.  A roar was heard.  Definitely an animal.  Sokka held the torch up to the light.  A giant, horrendous looking bat flew out, and dove right at Aang.

“A giant flying thing with teeth!”  Chong shouted.  It landed, and turned to face the group.

“It’s a wolf-bat!”

As is on cue, the creature leapt into the air, bouncing off of a wall, and lunging at Katara.  Sokka stepped in front of her, waving the torch at it, hoping to scare it off.  The flames kept it at bay, but with all the swinging, sparks flew off, landing on Appa’s foot.  Appa reared up, roaring, and ran off, scaring the wolf-bat.  He ran around, smashing into walls in a fit of fear.  Part of the wall collapsed, but Aang blew everyone backwards, out of harm’s way.  Large rocks collapsed before you.  You and Sokka ran over, digging at the rocks.

“Katara and Aang are on the other side!”  You exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’s no use.  We’re separated.  But at least you have us.”  Chong said, trying to cheer you and Sokka up.  Sokka stood, a look of horror on his face.  You would have laughed, had you not been stuck with them as well.  Sokka let out a yell and collapsed back on his knees, digging at double speed.  The sudden disturbance knocked some rocks off the pile, burying Sokka.  Your eyes widened in a panic, and you heaved the rocks off him, pulling him free.  He groaned.

“Let’s get moving.”  He instructed, rubbing his head.  “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”  You helped him stand.

“I agree.”  Lily said.

“I bet it’s not for the same reason.”  You hissed under your breath.  Sokka took the torch again, and walked town the tunnel, as Momo climbed atop him.  You jogged, catching up, before matching his pace.

You walked in silence for several minutes when you turned a corner, finding a wall standing right in front of you.

“Oh, great.  Your plans have led us to another dead end.”  Moku grumbled.

“At least I’m thinking of ideas, and trying to find a way out of here, Moku.”  Sokka retorted.

“We’re trying to think of ideas?  Cause I’ve had an idea for an hour now.”  Chong voiced.

“Yes!!”  Sokka exclaimed, exasperated.  “We’re all thinking of ideas!!”

“Well, listen to this.  If love is the key out of here-”

“Not this again.”  You muttered, turning and placing your forehead on the cool stone in annoyance.

“Then all we need to do is play a love song.”  He finished.  Sure enough, second’s later music was heard, as well as a slap.  You turned, seeing Sokka with his palm on his forehead.  The travelers were already on their way, as they all joined in singing and playing instruments.  You matched Sokka’s pace again, though this time was much slower.  You walked for a long time, the tune getting more and more tiresome than the walking, when a growl was heard.  Everyone’s eyes widened, as the playing stopped, as Momo leapt off Sokka shoulder, hiding in the shadows.  A herd of wolf-bats flew out.

You hit the deck, while Sokka flailed his arms around madly, letting out various noises.

“Hey, you saved us, Sokka.”  Chong said, once the creatures were gone.

“No, they were trying to get away from something.”  He observed, as Momo landed on his shoulder again.

“From what?”  Chong asked.  The earth rumbled violently as you stood, sending you backwards into Sokka.  The wall burst open, rocks flying everywhere.  The smoke cleared, revealing a massive badgermole.  You scrambled off Sokka, and opened the lid of your canteen, just in case.  You heard another loud noise and turned around, seeing a badgermole burst out of the wall on that side as well.  They brought their paws together in front of them, and a wall appeared behind them, trapping them in with you.  Or should I say, you with them.

One jumped off the ground, and brought its front paws down, creating a trench around the group.  Sokka was excluded.  The badgermole on the other side approached him, growling.  You leapt off of the island the other had made, and stood between Sokka and the large creature, water at the ready.

“Try it.”  You challenged, eyes narrowing.  The large animal took a step forward, and you pulled your water into a whip.  Sokka backed up, tripping over a rock, and his hand fell on the ukulele, making a soft noise.  The badgermole stopped its advances, and cocked its head.  Sokka seemed to get the hint, and picked up the instrument, playing it terribly.

“Hey!  Those things are music lovers!”  Chong noted.  (Music joke)

“Badgermoles, coming towards me.  Come on guys, help me out.”  Sokka sang.  You clasped your hand over your mouth, hiding a huge grin.  You put the water back in your canteen as the group started playing.

The badgermoles used earthbending to lead you out of the tunnel.  You and Sokka rode one, while the travelers rode the other.

“Sokka!”  Katara exclaimed, as soon as you saw light.

“Y/n!”  Aang shouted.

“How did you guys get out?”  Sokka asked, sliding down the side the creature and running over.  You slid down as well, apologizing to the animal for trying to fight it, and thanking it for its assistance.

“Just like the legend says.  We let love lead the way.”  Aang said.

“Oh, you’re not on about this now, are you?”  You asked, walking over.

“Really?  We let large, ferocious beasts lead our way.”  Sokka informed.  He turned and waved at the badgermoles as they disappeared back into the mountain.  You shuddered at the memory.

“That was a nightmare.”  You muttered.  Aang ran off, seeing something, as Katara hugged Sokka.

“Why is your forehead all red?”  She asked.

“Nobody react to what I’m about to tell you.”  Chong said, appearing out of nowhere.  “I think that kid might be the Avatar.”  He said.  Sokka face-palmed again.  He withdrew his hand, revealing a now larger red mark.  You fought a smirk.

“Sokka, I hope you learned a little something about not letting the plans get in the way of the journey.”  Chong said, placing his flower necklace around Sokka and pulling him into a hug.  Your eyes widened in shock.

“Just play your songs.”  Sokka muttered.

“Hey!  Good plan!”  He said, pulling away.  He did, start playing, as he walked away to join the rest of his group.

“As if we hadn’t heard enough of that.”  You voiced, though quietly.  They began singing and you groaned, placing your forehead on Sokka’s shoulder.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  You mumbled.

When they had disappeared from view, and you could no longer hear the ear-grating songs, you all climbed the mountain.

“The journey was long, and annoying.”  Sokka began.

“You can say that again.”  You interrupted.

“But now you get to see what it’s really about.  The destination.  I present to you, the Earth Kingdom city, of O-” He cut himself off, and your brows furrowed.  You climbed to the top to see why he stopped, when you saw the city smoking, and a firenation symbol on a red flag, hanging on the front.

“Oh, no.”  Sokka muttered.  You all shared worried looks.

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

A/n:  A few more chapters until Zuko!  Though, there won’t be much interaction.

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