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ratralsis · 10 months

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"Wait, in five weeks? The middle of May?" Kevin asked around a mouthful of diced chicken and onion. He coughed, then took a drink of water to wash it down. "I graduate then. I invited you to the commencement and everything. My parents are going to be there."

"I know, I know," Marigold countered, poking at the last bit of a green pepper on her plate. She was always a faster eater than he was. Or maybe he spent too much time talking between bites. "But we wouldn't have to leave until a few days after that, right? So it should be fine. You can do both things!" She lowered her chin and looked up at him, her eyes wide in a puppy-dog stare.

"Hrm," Kevin shoveled the last of his own food into his mouth. He didn't feel much like trying to savor it any more. He stood and held out a hand, and she dutifully passed him her plate and silverware, which he took to the sink.

Marigold, he had learned since his first visit, did not cook for herself, and lived mostly on takeout and frozen meals that she heated up in her microwave. That was a travesty, as far as Kevin was concerned, and so he had taken it upon himself to come to her place at least twice a week with ingredients for them to have a home-cooked meal together. This evening, it had been a traditional Mexican stir-fry recipe that his grandmother had taught him. It was one of his favorites, but now his stomach was trying to tie itself into a knot as he contemplated Marigold's request.

"Even if you say we can do both," he said to her over his shoulder as he loaded up her dishwasher, "I was going to go home over that weekend with my parents, spend a few days visiting old friends. Not to mention that I have to focus on my job search. What if somebody asks me to start the next week?" Marigold was still pouting at him. He averted his gaze. Prolonged exposure to that was lethal to his willpower, and she knew it. If he looked at her for too long, she could get him to agree to anything.

Some distance might help him to stay strong. He walked past her to the loveseat in front of her television, settling himself into its soft, worn cushions. Marigold joined him and leaned into him, her smaller frame nestled under his raised arm. "Then you tell them that you need three weeks, what's the big deal?" she pleaded with him. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me, and it's not like I know anybody else who can do it."

He groaned. "Did you ask?" When Marigold reacted with silence, he continued. "Anybody else, I mean. Did you ask anyone before you came to me with this big of a favor?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I did."

"Who else did you ask to drive you two thousand miles and back?" he said, feeling an edge creep into his voice and trying to stop it.

"Nobody you know," she said. "It doesn't matter. I have other friends, Kevin." He turned his head and looked directly into her eyes, his annoyance at the obvious lie allowing him to endure the power of her eye contact. Her gaze flicked to one side, then to him.

"Okay, fine, yes," she admitted, lifting her hands a few inches from her thighs and letting them drop. "You were the first person I asked. Can you blame me for that? You're the one guy I know with a big enough car, and you're obsessed with working on it, so I know it can handle the trip. And, I don't know, I thought it might be fun to spend two and a half weeks together, the two of us, doing something important to me."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This is important to me. I wanted it to be important to you, too."

He sighed and leaned back on the sofa, pulling Marigold with him, and they sank into its many cheap cushions. He turned and put his other arm around her, hugging her. "Of course you're important to me. But this is the first step of my career, and I have to be careful of any missteps. Gaps in my resume from when I graduate to when I start my first job are going to look bad, and I have to start repaying my loans as soon as possible."

"It's three weeks! You're gonna be an accountant for the next, what, fifty years?"

"Okay, I know you think you're kidding, but that hits pretty close to home," he said. He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. "Look. Maybe, I don't know, I'll bring my laptop, keep sending out resumes as much as I can and checking my email when we stop somewhere at night. I can do interviews over the phone, I guess. Lots of people take some time off after graduation. Nobody I know, but probably some people do."

Marigold craned her neck to lightly brush her lips against his cheek. "Yes, exactly!" she said. "See? There's no downside. It's not like anybody's gonna ask you to start working the day after Memorial Day, right? There's gotta be a little flexibility there."

"Considering how many people graduate compared to how many entry-level jobs open up every year, not really," he said, feeling his stir-fry turn into a heavy lump in his stomach as he resigned himself to this new fate. "Still, if this really is once-in-a-lifetime for you, I'll figure something out. I can't exactly force my girlfriend into using a less reliable car to get all the way out there and back while I sit at home pretending everything's fine."

"You will not regret it, I promise," she said, and gave him another kiss. He felt himself smile automatically, and he reminded himself that he was supposed to be angry. "It's gonna be so much fun. I planned everything out. You can drive for ten hours a day if we take breaks every few hours, right?"

"Maybe?" he said, unsure himself. "I've never done it. Can't we take turns?"

Marigold stared blankly at him, the confusion on her face obvious even to him.

"Like, I can drive in the mornings. Then you can, um, drive after lunch?" He trailed off as Marigold kept staring at him.

"Kevin, I don't drive. You know that." She said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"What I know is that you don't have a car," he said. "Your driver's license is valid, though, right? I've seen you show ID before."

"Legally, I can drive," she said. "But I haven't done it in a few years. And I've certainly never driven a van."

"It's not that hard, especially once you're on the freeway." The look on her face made it clear to him that that wasn't the point, and his plan involving teaching her how to drive a van died before he'd had a chance to finish figuring it out.

"I don't drive," she said again. "It's not up for discussion."

"I don't get it, though. Why not?"

Letting out a weary sigh, Marigold distanced herself from him, his arms falling limply away from her. Her gaze drifted away. "It's a long story. I don't really like talking about it."

He inched closer to her, partly closing the gap she'd made between them, but he didn't try to hug her again. He felt like he towered over her even from a seated position, and he didn't want to seem intimidating. "At this point, I feel like I've known you long enough to deserve to know, don't I? You're asking me to spend, what, sixty, seventy hours driving you around without offering to help with it at all?"

She crossed her arms over her stomach and looked away from him. "Okay, fine," she said. "But you gotta keep this between us, okay?"

"Who would I even tell?"

She let out a frustrated sigh as she squeezed her eyes shut, her brow furrowed. "Humor me," she said, then looked at him again. When Kevin obediently stayed quiet for several seconds, she continued. "It was when I was seventeen. Christmas break of my Senior year. I was driving home. It was late, I was drunk, I hit some ice going way too fast and got into a really bad accident. Totaled the car. Lost my license for a while. First offense, I was a minor, it wasn't that long. But still, now I don't drive."

Marigold looked at Kevin, silently pleading for some kind of a response. "That's terrible," he finally said. "Were you okay?"

A bittersweet smile formed on her lips. "No, Kevin," she said. She shifted in her seat, bringing her legs up and under herself so that she was sitting on her knees. With a delicate movement, she lifted her shirt with her right hand to show her stomach. It was nothing he hadn't seen before. Radiating out from her navel was a black spiderweb tattoo, a solid pattern of shades and gradients that went from the bottom of her rib cage to the top of her hipbones. He'd been impressed the first time he'd seen it, but she'd never made a big deal about it. She took his right hand in her left and traced it along her skin.

"You feel that?" she asked. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling, exactly, but he was confident that he wasn't supposed to tell her that he enjoyed touching her. He nodded, instead. "I was pretty messed up in the accident. Critical condition for a while. I don't remember much of my time in the hospital, but it was pretty touch and go."

He bit his tongue. This was heavy stuff. He'd made the right choice in nodding, and continued to be silent as he processed this new information about the woman he cared for so much.

She took a long, shaky breath. "When I turned eighteen, I got this to cover up the scars. I didn't ever want to see them anymore. I wanted something that I put there on purpose. Something big enough to cover it all up. Something beautiful, that I could use to pretend it wasn't there."

"Jesus, Marigold, I had no idea," Kevin said, the words tumbling out of him. "But you're okay now, right?"

"No," she shook her head. "I told you, I'm not. Probably, if I hadn't chosen to get a tattoo, the scars would be hard to see by now. But that's only what's on the outside. The internal scars are still there." Her gaze flickered to his eyes before retreating again. "That's not a metaphor. There's a chance I'll never be able to have kids."

Kevin was at a loss for words, and the room fell silent. He wished there was music playing, at least, but all he heard was the sound of the city through the closed window. He looked down at her stomach, his fingertips still lightly brushing the scars below her navel. Scars that he hadn't known were there until a minute ago. He swallowed. "Ever?" he asked. The question hung heavily in the air.

"I don't know," she whispered.

He withdrew his hand and she lowered her shirt. "I'm sorry," he said.

She laughed once. "What are you sorry for?" she asked. "Nobody's fault but mine that I did what I did. I was a dumb kid and I did a dumb thing and now I get to carry it around with me forever."

He shook his head. "I mean I'm sorry I brought it up like this. That I forced you to tell the story. You said you didn't like to talk about it, but I insisted, and that wasn't right."

"No, you were right, you deserved to know."

"And you deserved your privacy," he interrupted. "And to tell me when you were ready, if ever. Not because you wanted me to do all of the driving to get you to a convention to sell merch and do a few live shows."

She sniffed and rubbed her nose. "So, about that." She looked into his eyes again, blinking away a few tears. "You'll do it?"

Whatever annoyance or frustration he'd been trying to conjure up earlier about the inconvenience of the favor vanished in an instant. "Yeah," he said. "I will."

Her expression lit up, and she sprung forward from her kneeling position on the sofa, hugging him again. "I love you," she said, resting her chin on his shoulder, and he wondered, not for the first time, how caught up in her spiderweb he was.

He closed his eyes and returned the hug. "Love you, too," he said, and he did.

#ratralsis writing #ratralsis strings

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writer-akihiko · 3 years

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hiii! can I get a similar scenario like this but with vice dorm leaders and floyd? I love your works!!! I hope you have a nice week <3

Vice Dorm Leaders + Floyd + Valentine's Jealousy

Thank you for this request! It was a while to post this because I kinda forgot the prompt for the previous one, but I hope you enjoy some equally jealous Vice Dorm Leaders and Floyd!

Lilia Vanrouge

Many knew that you were quite famous, and he was well aware of how others saw you too. You weren't one to accept the presents because you had Lilia, but it was hard to reject them most of the time when they'd all gang up on you.

From the day started, you planned out the day. You planned to take an alternate route back to the dorms, but through every step, some student would stop you with a present. With so many eyes on you, it was overwhelming.

A couple of Savanaclaw boys stopped you in your tracks, with the supposed leader of the pack holding a box of chocolates towards you.

"YN! Please accept my gift!"

The sudden approach made you trip and fall on your butt, but before a hand could reach out to help you, the wall of students collapsed. You smelled smoke, supposedly from something burning, but as you looked over it more, it was the students that were burning…

Lilia stood over them, sneering at the other students that looked on. He gave a deep bow, and you noticed that one of his heels dug into the side of the one who wanted to give you a gift.

"Ara ara... as Vice Dorm Leader, there shouldn't be any fleas disturbing the peace."

The bodies of those students were well stepped and pranced over as Lilia prattled on about 'appropriate' rules for a NRC student. His lecture was done, but you found it odd that Lilia cared about the rules at all...

"Now that you get my point, leave."

All students, burnt and normal, scattered when Lilia said that. You were the only one left, and you began to get anxious once more. Surely... Surely your lover wouldn’t punish you too?

As your boyfriend stepped closer, he got on one knee, somehow conjuring a bouquet of flowers? On further inspection, the flower buds appeared to be your favourite snacks on sticks in... a bouquet. Lilia had his mysterious ways, but the silly bouquet got a giggle out of you.

He got up, pulling you by the waist. "I take it as you love your snack bouquet~" He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Happy Valentine's Day YN."

Trey Clover

Trey didn't want you to know that you were well-known so instead of doing anything to the other students, he tells you to stay in your room instead as you wait for him to pick you up for a romantic Valentine's date.

As the morning of Valentine started, he could watch in envy at the other students with present clearly meant for you. He did ask Vil for a favour to doll you up for the date, but he wasn't sure if you were going to stay put with Grim around...

He had to curse himself for getting caught up in one of Professor Crewel's ramblings, but he wouldn't be so rude to get up and leave. If he had to be honest, it was very tempting to do so.

It was finally over, and he tried not to let out a sigh of relief. The moment he walked out of the classroom, he was already frowning at the sight that he saw.

Many surrounded you, but particularly those with sweet treats caught your attention the most. They begged you to try their treats, but you never thought it as anything romantic. As someone who was fond of making sweet treats like Trey, you thought that they were asking for your input instead.

One of the students dared to hand-feed you a piece of the sweet he made. Trey being pissed off was an understatement. Cater, who was busy filming the decorations and vlogging, paused when his camera neared Trey's line of view.

Trey knew he wasn't going to get to you in time, so as he saw the treat inch closer to your mouth, he used his magic to alter the flavour of it. You winced at the bitter flavour unlike the sweet flavour before you expected.

You coughed out the piece you had in your mouth, dropping the food. Your head bumped against someone, and an arm wrapped around you. You relaxed once you felt Trey's familiar scent, but with your ear pressed against his chest, the sound of his thumping heart rang through your ears.

"You really dared to poison YN..."

The students backed away, but with a teacher nearby, they were quickly taken away. Trey didn't mind his little lie, after all, you were adorably blushing in his arms.

"Are you okay my love?" He patted your head, checking you for any injuries. It was only then he realised that you were dolled up, and your cheeks were flushed whenever hi fingers touched your skin.

Trey wasn't usually tongue-tied, but the way you just looked made him speechless.

"H-Happy Valentine's... my gorgeous YN."

Jamil Viper

He was an observant man, so the day before Valentine's he knew who was targeting to give you gifts, even if they hadn't made their intentions public. He never made your relationship public, but he targeted those who thought they were the 'perfect' candidate for your love.

It all began with spreading rumours, particularly about how someone was going to be your fiancé. He only had to wait for the rumours to settle in, and then the chaos would commence...

By the morning of Valentine's, many had gathered at your doorstep leaving gifts but some insisted on waiting for you... like a stalker... Oh well, Jamil could remedy that easily.

He couldn't hypnotise to most due to the limitations of his magic, but he was still good at manipulating those around him. He couldn't help but feel such jealousy towards the other students for getting you such expensive gifts, especially when he could never get those gifts for you himself.

He was so distracted with his jealous thoughts that he missed the moment that you walked out of your room. You were hopeful that your boyfriend Jamil was waiting, but you couldn't hide your disappointment when it wasn't.

The more aggressive 'suitors' caught on to your disappointment, and you shrunk in fear as they approached you.

"Hoi, why are you making that fa-"

BLAM!

Before any insulting things were said, a basketball went flying and hit the student in the head, knocking him flat.

"Get away from her."

Jamil's piercing gaze sent a shiver down everyone's spine, causing them to scram. Even those who had the strength to beat Jamil were outmatched by the sheer bloodlust and the objective authority he had, which was better not to mess with if they valued their school life.

It wasn't long before you jumped into Jamil's arms, which caused both of you to topple over. Your large grin was fitting for Jamil's flustered state, as you bestowed your hero a loving kiss.

Jade Leech

If any student in NRC were to say to their fellow friends that they wanted to confess to YN on Valentine's Day, their friends would ask them if they wanted a death wish. This was because it was a well-known fact that you were dating Jade Leech.

And in NRC, you'd never want to mess with the Leech brothers.

Jade wouldn't want to scare you, but he may have overheard some other people talking about giving you a Valentine's gift. Even if it was out of obligation, he wouldn't allow that.

He could personally alter the ingredients of their drinks so that they'd... fall asleep before any present giving...

You always hung around the Lounge but this time around, Jade didn't allow you to walk out onto the floor, so you accompanied Azul with helping him with his papers. He waited for the serum to kick in, and when they were asleep he informed Azul of some loiterers in the Lounge.

Before they fell asleep, Jade couldn't help himself from revealing his tiny plan to the victims.

"Don't try your chances."

They were quickly disposed of, thanks to Floyd. It'd be better not to mention specifics.

Jade did promise you a romantic date, so you were surprised how much the Lounge changed after hours. The simple candlelight shone on the extravagant meal with Jade's specially brewed tea.

You felt the merman's arms wrap around you, as he leaned down, whispering in your ear. "YN, thank you for being my Valentine."

Floyd Leech

Whoever had the idea to confess to you besides Floyd Leech was asking to die by getting squeezed by a merman.

He wasn't sure how did you gain so much attention, but then he remembered that he'd always glomp you whenever he saw you... and then he remembered that Valentine's was today. Oh well, he'll figure something out.

The person Floyd had his eyes on though, was a student who was part of a band that Azul drove into debt. The entire band then on went to work for the Lounge as entertainters, but how could Floyd trust such a scheming bass player?

He heard from Jade that they were going to practice, but he had an inkling that it would be a confession to you. Only when it comes to you, he's observant.

"Hey YN! I just wanna show you-"

You shrugged off the bassist's enthusiasm. "Sorry... I'm a bit worn out. A lot of people have been giving me presents today."

He still took your hand. "Well... um if it helps you relax, I wrote a song for you!"

"A song?" You inched away since he was too close for comfort, but you'd doubt he'd listen to you since those other students didn't listen to you anyway...

"Hands off my Shrimpy."

Floyd couldn't hold it, watching from the sidelines. Jade told him to stay put, but it was impossible. He grabbed the student by the shoulders, squeezing him until he screamed. Once Floyd saw your worried face, he abandoned every thought of 'torturing' the boy and flung him across the room instead.

It was just his luck that the boy landed in your pile of presents, destroying about half of them. That was the presents dealt with...

You eagerly hugged Floyd, finally seeing him after a long day. Floyd couldn't help but twirl his Shrimpy around, joy filling him from your giggles. Oh well, Valentine's was too materialistic anyway. If he could get a laugh out of you just like this, that was all that mattered to him.

"Love ya Shrimpy~"

Ruggie Bucchi

Having so much responsibility in Savanaclaw meant that he had the slimmest of chances to be with you during Valentine's. Sure, most knew that you were his but there would be those idiots that would approach you regardless of your relationship status.

He gritted his teeth as he thought of all the possible presents he couldn't give you, and others could. The moment he stepped out his body simply shook with envy at how lucky those students were to have the spare money to get you something nice.

It honestly made him feel terrible that he couldn't provide those for you. It really did.

He wasn't one to lash out, but he was a hyena beastman after all. He had his limits. The moment he spotted you, he couldn't stop his tail from wagging. What pissed him off though was the idiocity of the students who can't comprehend that you didn't want to deal with them.

A Scarabia student had been following you around, and it was getting on your nerves. He showed off his 'assets' in front of you, which was embarrassing enough but it really struck a chord when the said student disregarded your beloved Ruggie.

"Surely you have better chances with me than some filthy beastman like him..."

You huffed, your fists shaking. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about!"

The student, of course disregarded you entirely. He grabbed you by the wrist, but in the blink of an eye, his palm was bleeding. There Ruggie was, claws out and holding you in one arm.

"She said she has a boyfriend, scum."

He didn't care how much he'd get punished. Knowing how much the teachers favoured you, they might let it pass... He didn't want to deal with the aftermath, so he lifted you up bridal style and ran with you to the Savanaclaw dorm.

"W-Wait Ruggie! I might be heavy..."

"You're not," He bluntly said, angling his face so he could check you for any injuries. His chest swelled up with pride with how much you defended him. "YN, it's okay though. You didn't have to defend me that much..."

You were not one to stand for your boyfriend to insult himself. You kissed him, surprising him to the point he almost dropped you. As you stared at your confused Ruggie, you comforted him with words he needed to hear the most.

"Ruggie, you're my one and only love."

Rook Hunt

This man had a plan. He had a plan and he planned it the moment he realised Valentine's Day was coming which was roughly after the first few months of dating. He never realised that it would be such a meticulous operation.

He runs the grapevine of gossip, so he knows exactly who to target. Sure... some methods were not as graceful as the Pomefiore standard but he had to do what he had to do.

Valentine's rolled around. D-Day. The D stood for Date... as he highlighted in notes. He'd leave you be, because you were the main star of his plan. His star, his moon, his every- Oh and he caught himself before getting sidetracked...

The first mistake was leaving their presents unattended. The second mistake was going to talk to you.

In a sudden moment, many shrieked at their presents getting vandalised by someone's arrow. It wasn't a humble mistake. Someone was doing this on purpose.

While other students panicked, you had stooped to your knees, observing the words on the shaft of the arrow...

'From YN's boyfriend~'

Oh... Oh Rook... How adorable of you... You thought to yourself. You were surprised that none had caught on so far, but you were sorely mistaken as the person who was about to gift you a bouquet of flowers grabbed you in fear.

"Y-Your boyfriend?! Who is he-" The student shrieked and fell to the ground as an arrow flew past his head, cutting off some of his locks. Then and there, Rook stepped out, bow in hand, bowing to his lady.

"My apologies. I was aiming for your head."

Rook was quick to take you in his arms, but that was not before he oh so graciously stepped on the student's hand. You didn't expect him to-

"You didn't think I would get jealous, Mademoiselle," He laughed, getting on one knee with a rose in hand that you were sure was from another student's bouquet. "Ah, I take it you enjoyed my gift!~"

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before Rook was scolded by some teachers and Vil himself. As much as you thought he would put up with the punishment, that didn't stop the hunter from bringing you to the final date spot, a quiet, peaceful forest date with your favourite hunter.

#twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #twst vice dorm leaders #lilia vanrouge #trey clover #rook hunt #jamil viper #jade leech #floyd leech #ruggie bucchi #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst scenarios

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benevolentbirdgal · 3 years

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“Thirteen″ Tips for Writing About Synagogues / Jewish Writing Advice / Advice for Visiting Synagogues

So your story includes a Jew (or two) and you’ve a got a scene in a synagogue. Maybe there’s a bar mitzvah, maybe your gentile protagonist is visiting their partner’s synagogue. Maybe there’s a wedding or a community meeting being held there. For whatever reason, you want a scene in a shul. I’m here as your friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional to help you not sound like a gentile who thinks a synagogue is just a church with a Star of David instead of a cross.

Quick note: The are lots of synagogues around the world, with different specific cultural, local, and denominational practices. The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. I’m also writing from the view of Before Times when gatherings and food and human contact was okay.

Bear in mind as well, in this discussion, the sliding scale of traditional observance to secular/liberal observance in modern denominations: Ultraorthodox (strict tradition), Modern Orthodox (Jewish law matters but we live in a modern world), Conservative (no relation to conservative politics, brands itself middle ground Judaism), Reconstructionist (start with Jewish law and then drop/add bits to choose your own adventure), and Reform (true build your own adventure, start at basically zero and incorporate only as you actively choose).

Synagogue = shul = temple. Mikvah (ritual bath) is its own thing and usually not attached to the shul. Jewish cemeteries are also typically nowhere near the shul, because dead bodies are considered impure.

A Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah is the Jewish coming of age ceremony. Bar (“son”) for boys at 13+, Bat (“daughter”) at 12+, and Bnai (“children”) for multiples (i.e. twins/triplets/siblings) or non-binary kids (although the use of the phrase “Bnai Mitzvah” this way is pretty new). 12/13 is the minimum, 12-14 the norm but very Reform will sometimes allow 11 and anybody above 12/13 can have theirs. Probably a dedicated post for another time. Generally, however, the following will happen: the kid will lead some parts of services, read from and/or carry the Torah, and make a couple of speeches.

Attire: think Sunday Best (in this case Saturday), not come as you are. Even at very liberal reconstructionist/reform synagogues you wouldn’t show up in jeans and a t-shirt or work overalls. Unless they are seriously disconnected from their culture, your Jewish character is not coming to Saturday morning services in sneakers and jeans (their gentile guest, however, might come too casual and that’d be awkward). 1a. The more traditional the denomination, the more modest the attire. Outside of orthodoxy woman may wear pants, but dresses/skirts are more common. Tights for anything above knee common for Conservative/Reform/Recon, common for even below knee for orthodox shuls. Men will typically be wearing suits or close to it, except in very Reform spaces. 1b. Really, think business casual or nice dinner is the level of dressiness here for regular services. Some minor holidays or smaller events more casual is fine. Social events and classes casual is fine too. 1c. Even in reform synagogues, modesty is a thing. Get to the knee or close to it. No shoulders (this an obsession in many Jewish religious spaces for whatever reason), midriffs, or excessive cleavage (as I imagine to be the norm in most houses of worship).

Gendered clothing: 3a. Men and boys wear kippahs (alt kippot, yarmulkes) in synagogues, regardless of whether they’re Jewish or not out of respect to the space. Outside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew” but inside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew or a gentile dude who respects the Jewish space.” Outside of very Reform shuls, it’s a major faux pass to be a dude not wearing one. 3b. There are little buckets of loaner kippahs if you don’t bring your own and commemorative kippahs are given away at events (bar mitzvah, weddings). Your Jewish dude character not bringing or grabbing one is basically shouting “I’m new here.” 3c. Women are permitted to wear kippahs, but the adoption of a the traditionally masculine accessory will likely be interpreted by other Jews as LGBTQ+ presentation, intense feminism, and/or intense but nontraditional devoutness. Nobody will clutch their pearls (outside of ultraorthodoxy) but your character is sending a message. 3d. Tefillin are leather boxes and wrappings with prayers inside them that some Jewish men wrap around their arms (no under bar mitzvah or gentiles). Like with the kippah, a woman doing this is sending a message of feminism and/or nontraditional religious fervor. 3e. Additionally, prayer shawls, known as tallit, are encouraged/lightly expected of Jewish males (over 13) but not as much as Kippahs are. It is more common to have a personal set of tallit than tefillin. Blue and white is traditional, but they come in all sorts of fun colors and patterns now. Mine is purple and pink. It is much more common for women to have tallit and carries much fewer implications about their relationship to Judaism than wearing a kippah does. 3f. Married woman usually cover their hair in synagogues. Orthodox women will have wigs or full hair covers, but most Jewish woman will put a token scarf or doily on their head in the synagogue that doesn’t actually cover their hair. The shul will also have a doily loaner bucket.

Jewish services are long (like 3-4 hours on a Saturday morning), but most people don’t get there until about the 1-1.5 hour mark. Your disconnected Jewish character or their gentile partner might not know that though.

Although an active and traditional synagogue will have brief prayers three times every day, Torah services thrice a week, holiday programming, and weekly Friday night and Saturday morning services, the latter is the thing your Jewish character is most likely attending on the reg. A typical Saturday morning service will start with Shacharit (morning prayers) at 8:30-9, your genre savvy not-rabbi not-Bnai mitzvah kid Jewish character will get there around 9:30-10:15. 10:15-10:30 is the Torah service, which is followed by additional prayers. Depending on the day of the Jewish year (holidays, first day of new month, special shabbats), they’ll be done by 12:30 or 1 p.m. Usually. After that is the oneg, a communal meal. Onegs start with wine and challah, and commence with a full meal. No waiting 4-8 hours to have a covered-dish supper after services. The oneg, outside of very, very, very Reform spaces will be kosher meat or kosher dairy.

To conduct certain prayers (including the mourner’s prayers and the Torah service) you need a Minyan, which at least 10 Jewish “adults” must be present, defined as post Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah. In Conservative/Reform/Recon, men and women are counted equally. In Ultraorthodox women are not counted. In Modern Orthodox it depends on the congregation, and some congregations will hold women’s-only services as well with at least ten “adult” Jewish women present.

In Conservative and Orthodox shuls, very little English is used outside of speeches and sermons. Prayers are in Hebrew, which many Jews can read the script of but not understand. Transliterations are also a thing. In Reform synagogues, there’s heavy reliance on the lingua franca (usually English in American congregations). Reconstructionist really varies, but is generally more Hebrew-based than Reform.

We’re a very inquisitive people. If your character is new to the synagogue, there will be lots of questions at the post-services oneg (meal, typically brunch/lunch). Are you new in town? Have you been here before? Where did you come from? Are you related to my friend from there? How was parking? Do you know my cousin? Are you single? What is your mother’s name? What do you think of the oneg - was there enough cream cheese? What summer camp did you go to? Can you read Hebrew? Have you joined? A disconnected Jew or gentile might find it overwhelming, but many connected Jews who are used to it would be like “home sweet chaos” because it’s OUR chaos.

In Orthodox synagogues, men and women have separate seating sections. There may be a balcony or back section, or there may be a divider known as a mechitzah in the middle. Children under 12/13 are permitted on either side, but over 12/13 folks have to stay one section or the other. Yes, this is a problem/challenge for trans and nonbinary Jews. Mechitzahs are not a thing outside of orthodoxy. Some older Conservative synagogues will have women’s sections, but no longer expect or enforce this arrangement.

Money. Is. Not. Handled. On. Shabbat. Or. Holidays. Especially. Not. In. The. Synagogue. Seriously, nothing says “goy writing Jews” more than a collection plate in shul. No money plate, no checks being passed around, even over calls for money (as opposed to just talking about all the great stuff they do and upcoming projects) are tacky and forbidden on Shabbat. Synagogues rely on donations and dues, and will solicit from members, but don’t outright request money on holidays and Shabbat.

Outside of Reform and very nontraditional Conservative spaces, no instruments on Shabbat or holidays. No clapping either. Same goes for phones, cameras, and other electronics outside of microphones (which aren’t permitted in Orthodox services either). 11a. In the now-times an increasing number of shuls have set up cameras ahead of time pre-programmed to record, so they don’t have to actively “make fire” which is “work” (this is the relevant commandment/mitzvah) on Shabbat, so services can be live-streamed. 11b. After someone has completed an honor (reading from the Torah, carrying the Torah, opening the ark, etc), the appropriate response is a handshake after and the words “Yasher Koach” (again, Before-Times).

Jewish services involve a lot of movement. Get up, sit down. Look behind you, look in front of you. Twist left, twist right. A disconnected Jew or gentile visitor would be best off just trying to follow along with what an exchange student we had once termed “Jewish choreography.” Some prayers are standing prayers (if able), some are sitting prayers. It’s just how it is, although a handful of prayers have variations on who stands.

#jumlbr #jewblr #jewish #jewish writing help #jewish writing #jewish characters #writing jewish characters #jewish representation #writing advice #writeblr #writing jewish spaces #how to write synagogues #another long one sorry not sorry

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seraphanangelica · 4 years

Text

Don’t really know if anyone’s done this before

(Totally not posting this to kick off a short series)

If you would like to be tagged on new posts, leave a comment below!

If you want to give a request (can be of anything) all you gotta do is ask!

How Yandere!BNHA Would React to S/O Being Fine With Everything

(We’re going to ignore his princely status and focus on the smile)

Shoto would be relived, thankful that he didn’t have to put in the complex work to take you to your true home. He wasn’t entirely fond of the idea of stealing you in the middle of the night for you to wake up bound and in an unknown place. Even so, he’ll do whatever it takes for you to realize he truly just wants to keep you safe.

Luckily for him, you’ve been dating since your second year at UA. Truth be told, even before that you two were so close many of your classmates thought you were together.

Shoto took advantage of any time you had time alone, and made sure he could see you even more than what was given. He’d show up to your dorms to study, go to training with you, help you with your homework, and eat meals with you. He even started going as far as taking naps with you (sleepy boi sleeps best when he’s next to his love). All of his actions were justified by his claim to just want to spend time with you

You bought it of course, but there was that small voice that told you there was something more. It was confirmed to you later when you caught him shoving another student against the lockers after school, his expression menacing. The guy was flirting with you, and you obliviously flirted back.

He asked you out the next day, making sure it was in front of the boy. You gladly accepted, knowing of and picking up on his yandere tendencies, watching as they got more and more often over the years.

Truthfully, he was considerate enough to let you graduate before commencing his plan to take you away. The thing is, he didn’t have to force you, due to your own surprise waiting for him after they were out of UA.

When you told him that you knew, he looked at you wide eyed as his jaw dropped in shock. It really wasn’t that you knew (he hadn’t been the best at hiding it in the first place), it was how you said it. So casually. In a restaurant.

That exact same day, Shoto took you to your home so you could say goodbye to your family and pack your things. Your parents didn’t question it, knowing he loved you, just not the extent of it.

Once all of your belongings were in the back of the car, Shoto took hold of your hand, staring deep into your eyes. pressing his lips into your own in a loving kiss, he led you to the passenger side of the car. Opening the door for you, he smiled.

“Let’s go home, love.”

Come on, it’s Toga...

As a villain yourself, it’s pretty obvious that you’d be okay with your girlfriend being a yandere. You knew what she was the moment you met her. She was gushing about Deku as always and holding up a small vile of blood. When her yellow eyes met your own, her cheeks went red and she quieted herself almost instantly.

Back then, you didn’t know why half the league looked at you weirdly as the other half rolled their eyes and looked at you with the ‘run, she’s crazy’ face.

Well, you liked crazy. And she knew that.

There was just something about her possessiveness that made you fall for her even more.

It was quite endearing to not hear her talk about Deku or the gravity girl unless it was for a mission. Now, the person she talked about when blushing was you.

Where a mission is concerned Himiko would want to stay by your side to make sure you stayed safe. If the time ever came, she would happily lay down her life so that you may live. She just had to be around if that were to happen.

“Himiko. thank you for your concern, but you could have died!” You shouted one night once you arrived back at the league through warp gate. You had cut it too close to one of the pro Heroes, and Himiko quickly moved so that she would take the blow instead of you.

She smiled and pointed to her bleeding abdomen. “It’s not just me...” He face began to flush as she reached out to touch your cheek. “You’re bleeding too... so pretty...” Her words began to slur, her eyes drooping.

“Damnit, Himiko,” You caught her as she fell and Twice rushed to get the first aid. You hugged her in your arms, afraid to let her go as she unconsciously leaned closer to your body with what strength she had left. “You idiot.”

You hastily wiped the tears running down your cheeks as she gave you another weak smile. Settling further into you, her words came out more weak as she spoke. “I love you.”

You laughed bitterly, tilting your head up to the ceiling as Kurogiri moved the unconscious girl off your lap.

“I love you too.”

Go on, feed this boy’s ego and say you’d love for him to steal you away so he can protect you and never let you go again.

Could you imagine what he would do if you said that? I mean, come on, who would tell Neito that of all people?

Well, uh, you did. Sorry.

I mean, you had good reason to. He’s a narcissistic prick with a deadly obsession. Also because you were head over heels in love with him.

So much so, that at first you thought he was just being a little protective when you had to stop him from killing Bakugo when the explody boi insulted you. You thought it was just him being his arrogant self when he kept his arm around you at all times, needing some sort of physical contact every second of the day. Maybe he was actually insecure on the inside?

No, honey...no.

You know that guy at the store that died a while ago? There was a rumor that the Villain had help (just putting that out there).

So...yeah.

You were perfectly fine with it after all, right?

You sure you don’t want to escape Monoma?

....?

...No?

Okay!

Neito growled at Bakugo as you wrenched him away from the spiky haired boy. “I’ll kill you, you fucking bitch! Insult them again, I dare you!”

You didn’t bother to send Bakugo a glance of pity as you let Neito hug you as if his life depended on it (it kind of does).

“It’s okay, Neito,” you cooed, doing your best to calm him down. You never liked to see him angry. “It’s okay. I’m fine, see?”

Yeah, that didn’t stop him from trying to kill Bakugo when you weren't around.

#yandere #yandere bnha #yandere todoroki #yandere monoma #yandere toga #bnha headcanons #bnha scenarios #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #todorki x reader #toga x reader #monoma x reader #todoroki smut #toga smut #monoma smut #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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shozaii · 4 years

Note

um hi, can i request cannons for todo, kaminari, and shinsou being stuck in quarantine w/ female s/o !! i love your writing, bls stay healthy and safe 💛💛☁️

(a/n): hello! thank you so much for the suggestion! :’). this really made my day and i hope these headcanons will make yours too. you’re so nice hsdgf i’m sending you virtual hugs. i hope you stay healthy and safe too! <3

^^^

bnha; in quarantine with you.

warnings: none!

‘‘‘‘

todoroki

quarantine with todoroki? a blessing, really.

both of you would have been busy with hero work around the city. let alone patrolling in different areas. it was hard to catch a glimpse of one another.

thus began the outbreak. it was announced a state of emergency.

and the both of you were advised to stay at home.

i could say it was an opportunity to be with each other. yay!

he is fine being in quarantine with his loved ones. makes him feel safe and comfortable.

you and shoto love trying new things. cooking, styling each other’s hair, self photoshoots, binge watching shows on netflix.

loves loves loves cuddling with you. when you’re the big spoon, he just nuzzles in, like a cat. neither of you move because it’s just that comfortable argh T_T

but when he’s the big spoon, expect a lot of kisses coming your way.

(every moment with todoroki is worth taking pictures of so yeS)

learns about tiktok, watches a few funny ones you recommended

cold soba squad. and by that i mean either one of you preparing cold soba when you run out of options for meals.

asks his sister for some recipes he hasn’t tried out before.

he enjoys helping and watching you bake.

he claims you make the best types of cakes. he likes them soft and fluffy.

takes so many pictures of you without warning.

“you look good in this one, y/n. i’m not deleting it.”

“but i have flour on my face!”

keeps it anyway.

i headcanon todoroki preferring board/card games. probably owns a large collection of it. he enjoys playing video games too, but probably only if they’re a multiplayer.

10/10 would play animal crossing with you because he loves how calm and serene it looks.

slow. dancing. (not surprised if he was born a prince.)

sometimes if you two can’t sleep, you just lay in bed, your head on his chest and his hand on your back, drawing little circles.

tells you like these random facts he’s read of.

“a person’s pupils dilate when they see someone attractive.”

“huh. interesting.”

“so the next time i look right into your eyes, check and see if it’s true.”

“.....you’re pretty smooth.”

it’s never a dull moment with prince shoto. you two would have such a relaxing, lovely time during quarantine.

shinsou

as we all know hitoshi, sleep is his number one enemy.

before the outbreak, it was tough to get him to bed.

“toshi. bed. now.”

“kitten, i have some work to do.”

“then i’m not sleeping, either.”

“y/n, come on. i’ll be alright.”

he wasn’t wrong. still, that can’t be an excuse.

all till the outbreak worsened and the heroes were advised to quarantine themselves until further notice to resume work again.

he doesn’t tell you but he was so happy to hear that. his stomach swarmed with butterflies because he got to spend time with you at home!

you had plans, too.

operation ‘correcting hitoshi’s sleeping schedule’, commence!

he wasn’t going to complain, either.

even lays in bed before you.

“do i smell development?”

“whatever you say. i’m only doing this because i’d get to cuddle with you.”

cue that one face deku did during the sports festival

operation ‘cuddle session,’ commence...? why not?

he wants to be the big spoon, so bad. honestly just loves looking into your eyes, caressing and kissing your cheeks, praising you 24/7.

wouldn't ever complain if you're the big spoon, either :) this meant a cozy day in your embrace

sudden pillow fights, ends up with him tickling you

“toshi, i’m gonna puke my stomach out....stop!” you said in between laughs

he knows tiktok, and sometimes watches them with you.

claims that he would destroy the kitchen, so he watches you cook and helps you if you’re in need of it

literally binge watching shows with him till it’s past midnight

video games with hitoshi is a must

like todoroki, he enjoys it when it’s a multiplayer game. but he loves competing in mario kart with you.

he is probably the kind of person who loves watching their s/o’s movements. for example, you’re brushing your hair, tying it into a bun. he doesn’t say a word. it’s just so satisfying to him.

because all this while, before the quarantine, he doesn’t get enough time admiring you like he used to. now that he has the chance, he would never miss one moment of it.

one day, you had an idea.

“babe?”

“yeah? oh, sorry.i’ll just-,”

“hey, come here,” you laughed.

“wanna try?” you asked, holding out a rubber band for him.

he smiled. so you did notice.

loves listening to lo-fi music with you.

overall, you two are pretty chill with this quarantine thing. to him, it felt like time was limitless with you.

kaminari

okay. you and denki are so wonderfully chaotic during quarantine.

in a good way, i promise.

kaminari hated being so far away from you. then again, he’s going to work with all his might just to be with you after a long day.

and a few weeks later, it wasn’t looking good with the outbreak.

that meant quarantine!

stuck with his s/o? that made things so much better.

he is like this master planner of activities, and you’re the judge.

“milkshake duty, i’m in charge today. oh, and how does uno sound to you?”

“bring it on! i’m gonna beat you today,” you beamed proudly.

denki adores animal crossing so much. he’d love to visit your village, gives you advice if you need it.

he’s a whole different person when it comes to mario kart, though.

the king

he sends you memes, even though you two would be sitting together on the couch, literally huddled up close.

one time you came out of the shower, and received a text from him.

it was a selfie of him in the living room.

“come over.”

rolling your eyes, you replied, “sure, cutie. in a few mins.”

i didn’t mention that big goofy smile on your face when you read it.

you and him learn how to cook new recipes you’ve never tried before. your pancakes taste like heaven to him.

he usually hugs you from behind, attacking you with kisses

of course he knows tiktok. when the two of you get bored, you watch them together.sometimes you two learn the dances. it was kind of like a workout.

i feel like denki is someome vibrant with emotions. happy, sad, joyful, eager- loving.

so loving it puts you in the feels.

“hey. hey babe.”

“hm?”

“wanna cuddle?”

“of course.”

he welcomes you with wide arms.

most people may know him to be lively, but he enjoys peace and quiet too. especially this moment. where he can hold his s/o in his arms, as euphoria filled his heart and mind to a whole new level.

he felt like he was dreaming, but this was all real. for so long, he wanted this to happen. suddenly he felt like the hard work was all worth it

“denki?”

“yes? i’m here"

“what were you thinking about?”

“this.”

he loves quiet nights in, too! microwaved popcorn, dimmed lights, and a perfect netflix show to watch with you.

or you two would be in the bedroom, jamming to a soft song playlist you recently found. that’s how some nights ended.

denki definitely learned so much during quarantine, and he was glad he was stuck with you. ^^

(a/n): fun fact, i’ve done some activities you read here, except i don’t have a s/o hehe. i hope you have a good read and a safe quarantine! let’s have hope that the pandemic gets controlled soon.

#todoroki x reader #bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #shoto torodoki #shoto x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shinsou x reader #shinsou imagine #bnha imagines #shinsou fluff #shinsou hitoshi #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki #boku no hero academia #mha

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starlight-starwrites · 4 years

Text

to be loved and to be lost

Part One mandalorian/din djarin x female reader wc: 5.4k summary: for most of your life, you’ve served a lord of your home planet with diligence. when he decides a traitor should be hunted for sport, hunters are invited to the palace, and you are expected to serve your guest’s every desire. you may have been surprised at the presence of a mandalorian, but the truth is, you have no idea what is about to happen. warning: SMUT! smut is happening so be warned. just a bj but things will get more wild in the future. also ridiculous softness, and inexperienced (not a virgin) din, and reader is essentially a sex worker but is not allowed to leave. note: okay finally. i have been planning this for way too long and i’ve finally worked it out. i cannot promise when the next part will be up, but know this project is dear to my heart and i have no intentions of giving up! please tell me anything and everything you think about this!

Your feet made no sound as you walked the hall. The thin slippers you wore ensured that—the only sound you made was the faint tinkling of the chain that dangled from your collar to the metal belt at your waist, and finally to the tight bracelets that always adorned your wrists. They were delicate and gold, purely decorative, but they served their purpose well enough. A constant reminder of your enslavement, no matter how well you were dressed up.

You could feel the cold of the polished stone through your shoes as you approached the assigned room. This hall was lined with rooms given to guests of your master, each of which you were familiar with. You were often sent to serve guests at their pleasure, overseeing that the quarters were as pristine and extravagant as the rest of the palace. And, of course, any personal needs a guest may require.

Your current assignment was expected to arrive this afternoon, after he had been given the arrangements by your master. The servants shuffled about now, preparing the rooms, the food, the bath. You gave orders where needed, but they were efficient. Soon enough you stood alone, waiting at the entrance with a hot bath, soft bed, and table laden with food behind you. For whoever walked through the door, every possible desire would be met. You were used to catering to the desires both professional and primal, of dignitaries, bounty hunters, and anyone in between.

But when a Mandalorian walked through the doors, stopping at a distance, you couldn’t hide the flicker of surprise in your face. You recovered well, as always was required, bowed, and offered introduction.

“Are you the contact?” His voice is gruff, and he speaks curtly, as though he has no interest in what you have to say unless it is about the job for which he is here.

You’re surprised again, first by his manner alone, then by that fact that upon seeing you, dressed as you are and surrounded by so many lavish comforts, he assumed you were the contact.

You bow again slightly, as you were taught, and explain. “I am here to serve at your pleasure, Mandalorian. My lord and master has ensured that all will be provided for you. Tonight, he entreats you to rest and prepare for the coming morning. The details of your task will be given by your contact then, as per the arrangement.”

You do your best to speak delicately, aware that many bounty hunters—the less refined guests of your master—are equipped not only with the temper of any man, but with weapons as well. You had only been the target of such violence twice during your servitude, but it was a terror you never intended to experience again. Though this Mandalorian did not seem ready to attack, you knew the type of man that wanted nothing more than to get to business. With Lord Tyrr as your master, such men were easily irritated.

Your master was more fond of entertainment, the pleasures that would only be found by those with pockets that ran deeper than their egos, than any business he concocted and insisted any guest of his would partake. Though not a particularly cruel man, Lord Tyrr knew there were punishments beyond the physical and delighted in dancing along the line between revelry and torture.

The Mandalorian before you was surely interested in little you had to offer, but he confirmed any suspicion with his next words.

“I’m here for the job. I have no intentions on waiting another day.”

It was another game of your master’s. While the job was most definitely real, if he could not get some enjoyment out of it, he found the whole matter tedious. Most around him found the game to be tedious. The poor bounty hunter was only another pawn, an unwitting player. You knew some of the legends behind the Mandalorian culture just by word of mouth, but they were so few, so fictionalized you could not tell what was true.

You spoke again, resigned to enforcing your master’s demands. “The contact will only speak with you tomorrow, and the job will commence. For now, the baths have been prepared and a meal will be served. Then you may rest or have entertainment.” You could tell from his posture he was unimpressed.

Before he has a chance to respond, you sidle up to him, a pleasant expression on your face, and take his arm in yours. “Please, Mandalorian, allow me to do my job for tonight, and then you may do yours. I assure you, you will only benefit under my care.” You let your hands wander to his bicep, feeling his muscle flex.

He sighs deeply and turns his head away before speaking. “I don’t have time for this.”

You notice he hasn’t pulled his arm away, still stands with you, only turns to gaze down. You wonder if he is glaring under the helmet.

“I understand your frustration,” you think honesty would better put him at ease. “Really, I do.” You sigh too and move your hands so instead of holding onto him, one rests gently at his elbow, the other on the belt over his hip. “My master…this hunt is entertainment for him. That is all I know. I am sorry I cannot do more.”

The arm that you touch moves slowly, his hand coming to rest under your own elbow. Your words have a favorable effect on him, and you think he appreciates the effort. The touch is so gentle you want to melt into it.

Before you get a chance to, he pulls back. “What will happen tomorrow?” As he asks, he pulls the long rifle from over his shoulder and rests it against the table behind the two of you.

Relieved he seems to have accepted the conditions, you don’t hesitate to tell him. “The location of the target will be revealed. You will be expected to find them within the day.”

“The target is here?”

You don’t think his questions are unjust. But he is prying, and you have a job to do.

“I do not have any more information.” You try not to leave room for argument, but you can see it in his body language he still intends to try. You run your hand on his belt to his other hip, pleased with the way he straightens, appearing to be distracted for the moment. “But perhaps I can make it up to you,” you say with a smirk, and your hand runs over his abdomen. He tenses under the touch, bringing his hand back up to brush your elbow, and you find yourself intoxicated with even the subtlest of his reactions.

For a man dedicated to wearing the mask, there’s something about him that makes him easy to read. Perhaps a lifetime of relying on such communication alone makes him so expressive, or perhaps you manage to rile him up too easily. You wonder which is the truth, and the truth of his culture. You want to ask, but you will not go beyond your place.

Instead, you find another way to push a boundary.

“I really must insist that a bath would be in your best interest.” You tell him as kindly as you can. But really, the man does smell beneath the armor. Seeing him in a state of undress at this point is just to satisfy your curiosity.

He’s surprisingly easy to convince. He must know how he appears, the call of hot water and the feeling of being clean too strong for his own internal battle. There is still a resolute stubbornness to him, and you respect it. You allow him in the room alone, let him have his moment, as you retrieve the cloths you promised to bring when he was ready.

You wait a moment after announcing yourself for his permission to enter. You know that everything is prepared, and when you do enter, you are surprised to see him already submerged in the bath, completely bare except for his helmet.

He sinks at the sight of you, subtle enough that you think is trying to avoid your attention. He looks smaller here, under the tall ceilings, no longer covered in layers of armor and weapons. You notice the blaster in its holster within reach of where he sits.

You hope you haven’t overstepped or caused disrespect, still ignorant as to why he would wear his mask even when he wears nothing else. Your attention is fixed on him, and you rest the towels to the side before taking another cloth and wetting it with soap. Your eyes roam him, taking in the marks and scars, the red spreading from his neck to his chest.

He shifts, and your view is limited to his upper half until you walk forward and step into the water to join him. His visor has been fixed on you the entire time, wary, yet seemingly aware of what your next move would be. The thin slippers you wear are meant for getting wet, your clothes so thin that the water makes them cling to you like a second skin. The only thing that moves as though it is not a part of you are the thin chains that still adorn your body.

The Mandalorian shifts at your approach, perhaps embarrassed, but you reach out with reassuring touch to his shoulder to still him.

“Allow me,” you bring the cloth to the same shoulder, following the path your other hand makes, “I promised I would make it up to you.”

He takes a deep breath, and you watch the movement of his chest. He gives a slight nod, letting you into his space. You find a tension of your own is relieved, that you aren’t an intruder, that you haven’t disrespected him. You move freely now, dragging the cloth across the skin of his back as you move to sit behind him and begin to wipe the sweat and the stress from his body.

His muscles are tight as you rub the pads of your fingers into them. You think it is the manner of his work, danger at any corner, the constant movement of that life, some unknown trouble that makes him unable to relax. You want to take it from him, the burden he seems to carry, if just for a few moments.

You don’t know what prompted you to do it—maybe it was the fact that he seemed so human without the armor, or maybe it was the flush of his chest before he even stepped foot into the hot water—but you leaned into him as your hands roamed, massaging sore muscles, and pressed a light kiss to the nape of his neck.

“You can relax,” you whisper into his skin. “You will be safe here and cared for tonight. It is my duty. Work will wait until morning.”

You continue on your quest, the cloth in one hand wiping away any grime from his journey here and the second hand smooth along his skin, attempting to soothe the aches of his body. Instead, you feel him tense again from where you sit behind him. You wonder if he is so unaccustomed to this type of attention, worry that perhaps, even as you do your job, you make him uncomfortable.

“Tell me,” you say, voice soft, “if you want me to stop. I will leave, you only need to say the word.” Your hand slides around to rest on his chest. Even from where it lies, over his left breastbone, you can feel his heartbeat. “You need not worry about offense. I serve, or don’t serve, at your pleasure.”

His breath hitches, heartbeat increasing, and he reaches up a hand to yours, fingers curling around your wrist. You think he means to pull you away, to dismiss you, but he keeps you there, only stopping you from moving further. He sighs from beneath his helmet, and you think perhaps he can’t find it in himself to speak. It’s after another moment passes, when you go to move away, sure that he just doesn’t know how to reject you, that he finally speaks.

His hand on yours grips tighter, keeping you there. “Don’t stop.” His voice is hoarse, but you’re not certain if it is just the helmet. You don’t often want to sleep with the guests you entertain, but there is something so different about this one, about him, that makes you want more.

You move your hand again, and this time he lets you move. You continue to wash him, to explore him really, and finally he begins to relax. It isn’t until you finish with his upper half, reaching down to where he is most sensitive, that he tenses again.

The cloth is between your skin and his, but even still he reacts quickly, hand coming back to wrap around your wrist. Again, he stops you but doesn’t pull you away. You’ve drifted around to his side now, and he turns his head toward you. You meet the eyes of his visor, curious as to what he is thinking. He is tense, maybe unsure of himself, so you move to soothe him again, set on turning him to putty in your hands.

With one hand between his legs, the other reaches up to caress the skin of his shoulder. You stare where you think his eyes would be. “Let me take care of you.”

You say it so sweetly, so sincerely, that he has no choice but to let you go.

With his hand gone, reaching to grip the edge of the bath, you continue to move, washing as your primary goal, your second hand moving from his shoulder to his chest, down to touch the muscles of his abdomen. He was already half hard in your hand before, but as you move on to wash his thighs, his length now curls up to rest on his belly.

He lets out a grunt as you move away, practically torturing him. His head bows, refusing to meet your gaze, and you wonder if he feels embarrassed. You can’t help but smirk as your gauzy clothes drift against him in the water where you stand between his legs, but his reaction prods you to work faster, no longer so intent on doing such a thorough job but just to get done.

You wonder if he notices your change in pace before you let the cloth drift away and take your hands to feel him again. You let your hands rest first on his knees, submerged beneath the warm water. He’s wound like a spring, subtly shifting in attempt to relieve some tension, but ultimately waiting for your move.

Slowly, you drag your hands toward him, feeling the skin and scar tissue and the muscle underneath. It pulls you forward, closer to him as he gazes at your form. The water has made your thin clothes cling to you, the chains on your body reflecting light. You should be cold above the water, but he’s warm and you can’t deny the flush of your body as you reach for him.

Your hands now rest at his hips, still under water, and your thumb brushes his inner thigh. He shudders, fist curling at his side. You can’t help but be amused at his hesitance. Lifting a hand, you trail your fingers over his chest, water droplets rolling down to join the water again. His chest heaves faster now, almost panting with impatience, and you decide to have mercy on him.

You reach lower, fingers curling into the hair between his legs, scratching for a moment, then you’re wrapping a hand around his base. He almost pitches forward, and you smile at him, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

You keep your voice low, seductive, and you find yourself leaning forward, lips hovering over the curve of his collar bone. “Is this alright?” You ask.

“Yes!” His answer is quick, eager. You smile before pressing a kiss to his throat as he rushes to collect himself. “Yes.” He lets out a deep sigh, repeating himself in a more practiced voice.

You keep your face close to him, pressing kisses down the column of his throat to his chest, as you keep your hand wrapped tight around him, pumping him slowly under the water. He’s panting in earnest now, tensing when you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock.

His knee lifts and bumps into your hip. You let it pull you closer, nearly laying atop his chest as you suck a mark underneath his collarbone. You increase your pace, teasing his tip, and he lifts his hips with a groan. The man still has yet to touch you, but as you drag a hand over him, reaching with your other to cup his balls, you feel your own want grow within you.

The water of the bath laps on the sides of the pool as you work him, and you finally lift your head from where you’ve left a line of bruises on his chest to see his hands gripping the edge, knuckles nearly white. The sight of his hands, the deepening desire as you manage to pull a moan from him, has you chasing your own pleasure. You lift a leg to place your knee on the same ledge he sits on, straddling his submerged thigh. You’ve gone past the point of caring whether or not you should be doing this.

You lean into him more, not satisfied with the touch you give him. You want to taste him, to feel all of him. You want him closer, and you crave his touch on you. Straddling his leg seemed to be the touch that finally breaks his resolve, and you feel his hand touching light on your lower back, abandoning its anchoring grip on the ledge. It’s then you lean forward, your chests touching, that your head gently bumps his helmet—an accident, but when he nudges you back, practically nuzzling into the side of your face you believe it to be the best thing you could do.

You sigh into him, going to press more kisses into his neck, when he bucks his hips in your hands. Your touch becomes rougher, feeling his velvety head, stroking the protruding vein on his length before squeezing gently. You had been thinking of how much more you wanted, that you didn’t realize just more he needed.

You’re quick to please him, stroking him again before pushing your forehead into the side of his helmet. It’s not enough to be here in the water. You want to see all of him, want the room to really take care of him. For the first time since you started, your hands leave him to slip under his legs and raise them slightly.

“Up,” you rasp to him, lifting more to encourage him.

His hand leaves your back to return to the edge of the tub, scrambling to do as you order. You think that as you hold him in your hands, you could make him do anything. You keep your grip on his legs, moving with him and climbing up the ledge, watching his hardened cock, the flexing of his muscles, as you attempt to tame your want for him.

He sits up out of the water now, and you rise in front of him, water streaming down your body as you emerge to follow him. You don’t bother to stand, just come to your knees and crawl over his lower half as he scoots back from the bath. Your sheer clothes stick to you, hiding nothing, and the chains from your wrists dangle over his bare legs. You push his knee away to slip back between his legs and take his hips in your hands, easing him over as he moves with you. Eager to please, to find your touch again.

Both of you are breathing heavily, his hand finding a place as he takes your arm, pulling you with him as he lies on the floor and you follow, hovering over him. Your one hand never leaves his length as you settle on the wet marble. It’s cold, a jarring difference from the warm water, but you’re only focused on one thing. The warmth from the man beneath you. You use your other hand to pull his thighs apart, finally settling between his legs. He opens easily despite his earlier hesitation.

He holds your one arm in a tight grip, and you wish he would just pull you closer. But there is a reason you brought him out of the bath, and you haven’t forgotten it. He’s hard and throbbing in your hand and you want to take a moment to appreciate his size, how nice he looks spread out before you, but it’s not enough. It wasn’t before, and certainly not now. Your need grows stronger as you take him in, and you press your legs together with hope of relieving tension. You take your hand up his thigh over his abdomen to his chest and push. He lies back against the floor with a groan, hips automatically bucking closer to you and find your own legs trembling.

He is so willing, so good for you. You swear you’ve never wanted someone like you’ve wanted him. Part of you thinks it is the mystery, the pushing of boundaries between what is allowed and what is forbidden. Another part of you just takes a look at the cock hot in your hand, the hard muscles so easily moved by you, and think that the man they belong to has treated you more decently than any you’ve known.

Water drips from him, across his skin, down his legs to pool beneath the two of you. But now you can fully see him, you see the precum from his tip, enough for a bead to roll down his length. You don’t stop to think. Your head dips and you lick it from him, coming to his head and sucking gently.

He shouts.

You don’t remember anyone as vocal as he has been. He may not have spoken a word besides the array of curses, but every sigh, groan, and moan has gone straight to that spot pulsing with need between your thighs. You want to give him more, you want to serve him, if just for a night. You want to hear every sound he has to make, to make him feel safe and relaxed and filled with pleasure. You briefly wonder whether you should draw it out or give him what he needs. Both of your desperation wins out.

Your mouth doesn’t leave him, tongue swirling his tip as his hips jerk under your steady hand. You give him a moment, moving from his head to lick down to his base, hand following and pumping steadily as you take his balls into your mouth. His leg comes up and nearly hits you in the face. You hear another muffled moan as you take both hands to pin his hips to the floor and you look up to his helmet briefly.

“Stay down for me, hmm?”

His hands had left you, searching randomly for something to grasp. They went briefly to his head as though to grab his hair, before finding the helmet. He groans in frustration, and you bring your hand up his body taking every opportunity to feel his skin. One of his quickly follows your movements, taking yours in his much larger hand, and your fingers entwine atop his stomach. Your other hand wraps around his base again, and you’re taking him in your mouth, this time refusing to move your gaze from his visor. His head is lifted from the floor, watching you as you take him as deep as you can and bob slowly.

He speaks now, saying something in a language you don’t understand. You think it’s a curse when he says it again but louder. You continue to fuck him with your mouth, swirling your tongue on him as your hand reaches to fondle him. You have to lean a shoulder onto his thigh to stop his thrusts into you, to control the pace as you work him faster.

He’s close, you can tell, his swears increasing in volume and color. You recognize some of the words. The hand you hold on his chest tightens its grip, and you think if he breaks your fingers it would be a worthy sacrifice. His other hand gives up from his restraint and reaches to your hair. It’s surprisingly gentle. He doesn’t pull your hair or force your movements. His fingers slip into your carefully fashioned hair, following as your head moves up and down on him. You think he just needs the security of touch as he nears his release, and you revel in it, the careful affection of this man.

You can feel him twitch in your mouth, closer now, and you find yourself seeking his pleasure as though it were your own. You try to change pace, first taking him deeper, then faster. Increasing your pace makes him more frantic—his hand fists in your hair, his hips are nearly vibrating, his voice calls out a string of curses. You realize just how slick you have become, the clenching of your thighs the only pressure you can find. You don’t think anymore, just take him in and let the obscene sounds you both make guide you.

You watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest, turned on by the gasps he makes as you suck him in your mouth. His release surprises him with its force, making him throw his head back, and you hear the metal clang on the marble as his cum hits the back of your throat. His knees have lifted in defense from where they were spread, and the strangled gasp he gives makes you wetter by the second. You don’t stop even as you taste him, swallow his cum, clean him thoroughly with your mouth. Both his hands are now in your hair, and you didn’t even realize when he had released your hand.

He pulls gently, a silent plea for you to release him, let him recover from the intensity of feeling you around him, pulling him through his high. Your freed hand trails back to his hip, caressing along his side as you slow, licking the last of his release from his skin and letting him fall from your mouth. He shudders as your heat leaves, a hand disappears from your hair, the other still there and soft, and you feel his thumb gently trace your hairline. He is still trying to catch his breath, and the sound that comes from him as he trembles does nothing to alleviate your arousal. You think you could come from a single touch from him alone.

He lies there on the floor for another moment, and from where you kneel above him, you think he looks like art. His skin is covered in a layer of sweat, from the heat of the room or your acts, and you seek a peek of the underside of his jaw from this angle. You think you can see dark hairs from underneath his helmet and wonder if you should feel ashamed for staring. Your gaze quickly moves to the darkened marks along his collarbone and make a line down his sternum. You glance down more and trace your thumbs over two more marks, one on each hipbone, that you don’t even remember making. He is art, and you had a hand in making him like this. As you still sit above him, in the few precious seconds before he recovers, you think he is beautiful.

And you have yet to even see his face.

Before his hand leaves the side of your face, you lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his chest, right over one of your marks, where underneath his heart beats strong. He lifts his other hand to your face, pulling you back slightly as he sits up. You allow him to move you, feeling a sudden longing as he cups your face in his hands and holds you there, close, yet not close enough. You open your mouth to speak when he drops his head slightly, moving his visor from your eyes, but bringing his forehead to yours.

It’s a gentle gesture, one with care and thanks in it, and you wonder what he intends next. You both close your eyes for a moment, content to share the quiet, not ready for the apprehension that comes later. You think of the heat between your own legs, your own arousal calling you to act, but your professionalism preventing you from moving again.

You wonder what he is thinking.

You’re still kneeling between his legs as you both sit on the floor, and he begins to pull away with a deep breath you can hear through the helm. It feels like a goodbye. You don’t let it stop you from speaking.

“Tell me what you need,” you whisper. The room is still besides the two of you, and the sound carries, buoyed by the water. It might have been spoken quietly, but it is loud enough to break the calm.

He shifts, you see a tension beginning again in his shoulders, and a hand leaves your face to touch the edge of his helmet.

“I—I should…” He trails off and you realize he is pulling away. He remembers your purpose here, what stands between you. He needs his privacy, and you have outstayed your welcome. You bite down a sting of disappointment and give a sweet smile. You won’t let him push you away, and instead you offer your absence.

The smile never leaves your face as you lean closer to him. You recognized him as a man of honor—a rarity in life, you’ve found—and you can see in him a determination, a strength, that will bring him to do something great. You wonder if that’s why you press your lips to the face of his helmet, right where you imagine his lips to be. Or maybe it is just the fact that you found a temporary home in his gentleness, stared at his scarred skin and made a dent in his armor that is deeper than the metal plates that rest to your side.

Or maybe you took what you want and laid it on him. Chosen him as a vessel for your own fantasy. After all, even as your fingers trace the curve of the helmet, he is still a mystery.

“I will leave you,” you say, no longer whispering. “I’ll leave your meal in your room while you are here. Should you want, the doors can be locked so no one will disturb your privacy. You may rest safely there. I will be nearby if there is anything else you need.”

It’s easy to say it like a dismissal. You will see him again in the morning. You think of the tension already returning to him and accept there is nothing more you can do. He may be the same man who walked through the door tomorrow, or he may be the man underneath you, the one who allowed himself to give and feel affection. You hope he does not resent this moment, but as you move away, you remember how he held your hand, touched his forehead to yours. No, you don’t think he will resent you.

You both came to stand, and before you left you made sure to wrap a towel around his waist and trailed your fingers down his arm in what you hoped was a comforting touch. The marble floors felt even colder under your wet feet, but you were too distracted by what was to come to notice. Tonight, you had insisted the Mandalorian should rest and prepare. Now, it was your turn to get to work.

The hunt may start only when your master allowed it, but there was always information to be found, of challenges as dangerous as they were meant to be entertaining. It would ensure winners as there were losers. And you were going to make sure your Mandalorian won.

tagging people who were interested: @ficsilike-reblogged @qveenbvtch @elylandon @yespolkadotkitty let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter!!

#the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin fic #star wars

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma Maniac [Prologue]

Monologue

ーー I could not get the concept of a livestock’s pride,

out of my head.

Since I became one of them, some time had passed.

Compared to the other kids my age, I had a large frame,

and my battle skills weren’t all too shabby either,

so whenever a fight broke out,

I more often than not found myself by Boss’ side.

That day, I ended up finding out

about Boss’ secret.

Opposite to the fear I experienced at that time,

afraid of getting kicked out of the group,

Boss actually began to pay even more attention to me.

No, it was something slightly different.

Unlike before, it seemed as if Boss,

was seeking support from me.

While chowing down on the food he acquired through his secret activities,

we would talk about the most trivial things.

It was such a simple thing,

yet I came to realize that only during those times,

a pressure seemed to be lifted off Boss’ heart.

That is when I first found out.

That even Boss had a hard time,

burdening everything by himself.

It is so obvious when you think about it.

No matter how reliant or amazing of a guy he may have been,

in the end, he was still a young boy.

Boss was not much older than me,

he was still just a child after all.

However, even when I thought of him that way,

my respect for him did not falter.

If anything, knowing he still lived strong despite that,

I admired him.

ー The scene starts with a flashback in the city

*THUD*

Gang member A: Ugah...!

Bear: Ahーahー ...Can you guys not even read a calendar? Ah? I thought we decided we’d settle the score in three days?

See? As you can tell, this message was delivered from you guys’ boss to ours. He was even kind enough to attach a knife with it.

So why are you two here to try and strike while I least expect it? (1) What’s the meaning behind that, huh? You wanted to meet me that badly?

Gang member B: ...Because we have a bone to pick with you! We wanted to at least get one good hit off on you before you all get wiped out!

*Swoosh*

Bear: Wiped out, you say!?

*THUD*

Gang member B: Uguh!

Bear: You really think our whole squad would get wiped out by you little punks? Just how highly do you think of yourself?

Gang member B: ...Heh, hahaha!

Bear: Disgusting. Whatcha laughing for?

Gang member B: Nobody expects it. And that’s exactly why we aimed for those three days.

Bear: Ah...?

Gang member A: Oi, don’t say any more! Let’s go!

Gang member B: Che, guess we’ve got no other choice...!

*Rustle*

Bear: ...Hold it!

ー The other gang members run away

Bear: ...What do they mean...?

*TIMESKIP*

Lucks: ーー The day has finally come.

Once the morning dawns, we’ll go settle the score with those guys. Anyone under the age of ten remains here. You’ll be in charge of protecting the hideout until we return.

Everyone coming with me is all ready to go, right?

Comrade A: Yeah!

Comrade B: More than ever, Boss! We’ve set everything up perfectly for today.

Lucks: Don’t overdo it. Lately the military has been patrolling the city as well. They’re not the kind of guys you want to get involved with.

Bear: ...

Lucks: Oi, Bear? Are you listening?

Bear: Eh? Ah, yeah. What?

Lucks: What’s wrong with you? You look so gloomy. With you looking like that, it’ll affect the spirit of our team!

Bear: My bad...Say, Boss. Shouldn’t we think this over one more time?

Lucks: You’re still saying that? Are you that worried about what they said?

They all talk big like that, no? It’s basically a greeting at this point.

Bear: That’s true but...I have a bad feeling about this. For some reason, I feel restless...

Lucks: Hehe...Bear, you might excel in terms of your built and physique, but you’re more of a coward than I thought.

Bear: Boss! I am seriouslyーー!

*Rustle*

Lucks: Don’t worry. Nothing bad will happen.

We’ve been in plenty of fights up till now, right? However, we always came out victorious.

And if we defeat those guys today, we will finally stand at the very top of this city.

In short, we’ll have conquered the very bottom layer of this country. Do you understand what that means? It’s the first step towards our ‘dream’.

We’re not out to kill each other or anything. Well, I’m sure some blood will be spilt regardless.

We might call each other the enemy, but we’re actually also comrades living in the same place. The real threat are the rich, not them.

Despite everything, I like the kids living here. They’re headstrong, genuine and strong.

Which is why I won’t let them fight ever again once I reach the top. I’ll start by changing my own surroundings like that.

Bear: ...

Lucks: Besides, I’m here for you guys. And so are you all for me. How could we possibly lose?

Bear: ...Yeah, you’re right.

( He’s right. I’m sure this is all just my imagination. ...But you know, Boss. )

( I still have a bad feeling about this. I know that there’s just no possible way we lose, but there’s this uneasy feeling in my chest... )

( ...Please let it just be my imagination. )

Monologue

...Back then,

if only I had stopped Boss even by force,

would he have...would everyone have,

possibly survived?

In those filthy quarters, wearing dirty clothes,

but eating the same food,

as we all became adults together...

...I wonder if Boss,

would have been able to fulfill his dreams...?

ー The scene shifts to another flashback in the city

Comrade A: ...What...on earth is that...?

Comrade B: A tank...!? From the army...!?

Bear: ( ...Those bastards! They really planned to set us up after allーー!! )

Military member: An armed gang has been spotted. We can assume they are a rebellious group as stated in the information we received. Commence suppression!

Lucks: ! You guys, ruーー...!!

*BANG BANG*

Monologue

ーー We were children.

Despite calling this a fight,

somewhere inside our hearts,

we believed it to be impossible to lose our lives in just a kids’ quarrel.

I’m sure that the thought of their comrades dying, their Boss dying,

or even themselves dying,

did not even cross their minds.

Before the overwhelming force in front of us,

we were utterly powerless.

Bear: ...

...Boss...Hey...Open your eyes...

Aren’t you the one who said...I’d have to watch you till the bitter end...?

But you never told me it would be like this...! ...Damnit...!

Military member: ーー A survivor has been spotted. Kill him.

*BANG*

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to the kitchen

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: Ah, Yuma-kun! Geez, you’re searching the fridge again...Dinner will be served soon, you know?

Yuma: I’m hungry right now. Actin’ all high and mighty tryin’ to lecture me, huh, Sow?

Besides, it’s ‘cause ya always take forever makin’ our meals.

Yui: ( I started on it as soon as I got back from school, so rushing me any more would be... )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Ahーah... Today he’s going for a whole package of sausages... )

Yuma: ...

...Oi.

Yui: Yes?

Yuma: Who’s that dude from the other day?

Yui: Eh?

Yuma: That NEET on the staircase.

Yui: Staircase...Aah, you mean Shuu-san? He’s the eldest son of the Sakamaki family. Sakamaki Shuu-san.

Yuma: ...Do ya think I’m dumb? (2) I obviously know that much!

Yui: T-Then why did you ask?

Yuma: This prey really doesn’t get a hint...Is yer head completely empty or somethin’, aahn!?

I’m askin’ what kinda dude the eldest son of those Sakamaki bastards is!

Yui: What kind...?

( He basically wants to know Shuu-san’s personality? Hm... )

A listless...person, I guess? To put it simply.

Yuma: Haah? That isn’t ‘simple’ at all.

Yui: But if I had to put it some other way...He always seems exhausted, for example...?

I’m pretty sure his only interests are music and sucking blood. Also napping.

Yuma: Haah...He’s an actual NEET. (3) Anyway, and that guy’s the eldest son? It pisses me off how those on top are always too lazy to do anythin’.

...No, I guess that’s exactly why he’s like that. He can get his ass on the throne just by sleepin’ after all. Whatever. What else?

Yui: There’s also...Don’t ask me about the details, but I heard he went through quite a lot in the past...

Yuma: ...The fuck? Did he almost get himself killed or somethin’?

Yui: Like I said, I’m not quite sure eithーー

*THUD*

Yui: Kyah...!

Yuma: You do know, don’t you? Ya had them wrapped ‘round yer lil’ finger with that body of yers, didn’t ya? Ah?

So don’t tell me ya don’t know their secrets.

Yui: I’ve told you before, I never...

*THUD*

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Oi...I don’t think you’re that stupid but, you’re not tryin’ to cover for those bastards, are ya?

Yui: Cover...?

Yuma: Aren’t ya hidin’ all and any information which could put them at a disadvantage from us? Aahn?

Okay...Listen up!

Right now, you are our livestock and my toy. In short, we are yer owners.

If ya dare betray us ーー I will kill ya. I’d mess ya up real good, we could actually feed ya to the pigs and cows once I’m done with ya. (4)

Yui: ...Uu...

Yuma: ...Heh. You’re just gonna stand there quietly, shiverin’ in fear again? Ya really are so borin’.

Just don’t betray us then? As long as ya can do that, I can look past minor slip-ups.

‘Course, I have a limit. If ya make too much of a fuss...

ー Yuma grabs hold of her

Yui: ...! What are you doing...!?

Yuma: I’ll teach ya while I’m at it. What kind of punishment would be waitin’ you, that is.

Well? I’m pretty sure yer body is already used to this, whether ya like it or not.

ー He bites her

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Nn...Phew...

Yui: ...Nn...!

*Rustle*

Yui: ( Ah...! )

Yuma-kun...! The pot! The stove is still on...

Yuma: Aahn? Who cares ‘bout that crap? Just keep still!

Yui: No! If it boils for too long, the noodles will become overcooked and it won’t be good...

Yuma: ...Che, pasta out of all things? I can think of at least one person who will throw a tantrum if that happens.

Yui: If you understand, let me go...!

Yuma: Won’t do. If ya want me to stop that badly, then try and stop me yerself.

Yui: No way...!

( How should I do that when he’s holding onto me with his full strength...!? )

Nn...Nn...!

Yuma: Hehe...Do ya really think ya can slip free like that? You’re basically just shiverin’.

Don’t overestimate yerself too much, ‘kay?

‘Cause you’re the one who will end up regrettin’ it in the end...

Yui: ...!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the dining room

Kou: ...What’s this...? I don’t want to eat this mushy mess!

Yui: I-I’m sorry, Kou-kun. I was going to boil a new batch, but we ran out of pasta...

( I got yelled at as to be expected... )

Kou: Then please give me a reward instead.

Let’s see...Fufu, I’ll forgive you if you let me suck your blood, okay? Say, what do you think?

Yui: W-What I think...?

*Thud*

Yuma: If ya continue spoutin’ that bullshit, you’ll be takin’ one hefty blow ‘gainst that face you’re so damn proud of!

Ruki: Yuma. We’re in the middle of our meal.

Azusa: Don’t worry, the pasta is safe...Hey, Yuma...You can hit me instead if you’d like?

Yuma: Ya stupid!?

Kou: Geez~ What are you getting so upset for? I was just messing around a little. Joking is what we idols do! (6)

Yuma: Do you see me laughin’!? As her caretaker, I’m obviously the one who has to blame her whenever she messes up! Don’t try and take my job!

Yui: ( Actually, it’s Yuma-kun’s fault the pasta overcooked in the first place... )

( Speaking of which, I wonder why Yuma-kun asked about Shuu-san earlier? )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Yuma uses the word 寝込み or ‘nekomi’ which literally implies that they tried to attack him ‘in his sleep’. However, I think this is meant to be taken less literal in this case, but refers to the fact that they were expecting an attack in 3 days, so they could have been caught off guard.

(2) Literally he says ‘are you looking down on me/are you underestimating me?’ but ‘do you think I’m dumb’ sounded better in this context.

(3) A NEET stands for a person who isn’t in education or training, implying that they don’t work but aren’t currently in school either. They have a very bad reputation for being ‘lazy’, simply wasting their life away at home, sitting at the computer, watching TV, etc.

(4) Yuma says he would mess her up so badly, she could actually become ‘food for livestock’ by the end of it.

(5) In Japanese, the expression for overcooking noodles in Japanese is ‘麺が伸びる’ or ‘men ga nobiru’ which literally means ‘the noodles will stretch’, referring to them being too plump/soft because they cooked for too long.

(6) Kou calls it an アイドルジョーク or ‘Idol joke’ which isn’t a term I’m actually familiar with. I do know that idols in Japan appear on TV quite often and a lot of those programs are geared towards comedy, so I assume having a decent sense of humor is a must if you want to be a Japanese idol. xD

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Dark Epilogue ] [ Maniac 01 ] ->

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #more blood #diabolik lovers translation #mbyumamaniacprolog

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avversiera-writes · 3 years

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try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Now

Summary: Tobirama’s secret disquisition is taking a toll on him. More of a comfort chapter.

Word count: ~3k

available on AO3.

Tobirama massages the bridge of his nose as the words on the paper in front of him starts to blur into incoherent sentences. Tremors plague his hands too often now, and his chest often feels tight. He knows these are signs that he is very fatigued and that he lacks sleep–these days, he has simply stopped sleeping altogether. The energy that he rides on is the hope that he can finish his secret disquisition, so that finally he can rest. He just needs to do this one last thing.

The events of the year had spurred him on to throw himself on his Edo Tensei . He feels that this is the only way he can cope and handle his troubles in the near future. Especially if his theory about his brother is true: that he is dying everyday he lives.

He is almost never wrong.

He needs a backup plan. A safeguard, among his other collections of safeguards. Someone like him can never have too many.

And he believes that the answers lie in his creation.

Tobirama sighs and he presses his palms into his eyes. Maybe he really needs sleep.

The office doors open after a knock, and he looks up to find his brother. He cannot help but notice that Hashirama’s hair is silky and that his face is smooth, free of the blemishes of a wrinkle. There are no spots on his skin, and in fact, his skin seems to glow with youth.

“Elder brother,” Tobirama greets him, with utmost respect.

Hashirama’s face softens towards him. The glaze in his eyes from the other night is gone. He looks more alert. “You called for me?”

Tobirama tries to hide the way his hands seem to shake and fishes for the papers that he wants his brother to see. He takes his time, in the guise of searching for it, even though he is organized enough to know where each document is.

“I…” Tobirama begins, taking his time to form his words. “First, I have told you that this is not a good idea. Despite my best efforts to persuade you, I know you are also quite stubborn. So here. The approval to begin the construction of your precious statues. It commences next month.”

Hashirama’s eyes widened in surprise. “Brother, I don’t know what to say.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes, but much to his chagrin, he gives his last sibling a genuine smile. “Don’t flatter yourself. My wife put me up to this.”

Hashirama laughs, and Tobirama is glad that it sounds carefree. His eyes form into beautiful crescents, and Tobirama softens. There is his cheerful brother.

“Give my thanks to her,” Hashirama says. “She is the best of us.”

Tobirama nods, and he clutches his hands under the desk. He will always agree to that, because as compared to him, her flaws pale in comparison.

Hashirama pauses before turning towards the door. “And come visit your eldest nephew and his wife soon. We have heard that they will have a girl in about a month.” Hashirama chuckles giddily. “I will be a grandfather!”

Tobirama stops breathing, but thankfully, Hashirama has left before he can break down any further.

He closes his eyes, and suddenly, he is taken back to a more peaceful morning, as he prepares to travel to Kumogakure. That day will never be erased from his mind, not when he could have connected the pieces that were falling into place that almost cost her life. If he wasn’t so busy, if he just prioritized her a little bit more and only trusted himself to look after her, then maybe he could have been there on time. As the Hokage, it is his job to keep the village safe, but what kind of husband does that make him? When, once again, he has chosen the village over her.

Tobirama remembers her giddy smile, and the warm sensation spreading across his chest as she whispers to him a secret.

“ I think it’s a girl ,” she says, unable to control the wide grin spreading across her lips.

Tobirama feels his heart break further. He hates to see his wife reduced to tears, because those are few and far in between. She is strong, and has always known a clear line between right and wrong. Now, it is almost like she is becoming like him.

He was very relieved to hear that she could not ever go through with killing Kimiko, but if he wasn’t there to stop her on time, who knows what could have happened.

Tobirama does not cry, but if he is going to, this will be the moment he will choose to weep.

He feels as if there is nothing he can do, and there is no tangible way to come through on one end in one piece. The gods may just be out there to spite him.

Everything is falling apart. He can build kingdoms and construct beautiful castles. He can take dreams and make them into a reality, but they all mean nothing if the people that he centered his life around cannot be with him.

Being alone has never been a worry for him. Solitude has been his preference for a while now, but being truly alone, and losing those he gave his all for, he would rather lose a limb than bear that kind of loneliness. After all he is human, and not a god. As much as he plays that part.

He finally goes home, having lost his time once again over his endeavours. He trudges up the stairs quietly, and into the bathroom to try and wash up. He feels dirty. There is dried blood caked under his short nails, and he smells like chemicals, ink and death. He carefully peels his shirt over his head, and he stares at his reflection for a moment.

He is beginning to resemble the corpses that he hangs out with.

He leans over the sink and runs the water. He opts for using the faucet instead of the bathtub, afraid to make loud noises that will wake you.

“Tobirama?”

Your husband whirls around, and you give him a once-over. He is trembling a little. You note how messy his hair is–messier than normal–and how his eyes are stark bright like fresh blood, and how his face is becoming knife-like from the days he spends forgoing proper nutrition. Your eyes go to his cheek, where there is a smudge of dirt on it. It almost looks like dried blood, and it makes you swallow your words.

You are unsure what to say next, because you have a gut feeling that you should not get closer to Tobirama. He is different from the man you last saw this morning, who was calm and collected. The man before you looks like a stray animal ready to bite the hand that tries to pet them.

Tobirama tries to get a hold of himself, but his mind and his senses betray him. He feels overwhelmed.

"You should be asleep," he mumbles under his breath.

"I have been sleeping all day," you reply softly, not wanting to alarm him any further.

"Please," Tobirama says. He does not want you to see him like this. You make him feel weak. "Go to bed."

You ignore the slight hurt that you feel from being dismissed, but this is Tobirama. You have learned how to look beyond what he is saying outrightly. You can sense how freaked out he is.

"What happened?" You ask in a low, urgent tone.

Tobirama turns away and he takes a few deep breaths. He feels like he is about to retch. "Nothing."

He hears you step closer cautiously, and Tobirama tenses. If you touch him, he will melt and he will let go of any inhibitions he has left. If you touch him, he will want more. If you do, he may also react in a way that may hurt you as he could not bare any human contact on his skin at the moment. Just the thought of it makes his stomach curl.

"Go to bed," Tobirama repeats and he fills his cupped hands with water. He slaps the water onto his face, but when he opens his eyes, he finds that you are still there.

"Tobi," you whisper.

Water drips from his face and he turns off the faucet. He is not sure what to do next. The two of you have your own brands of stubbornness.

The sound of your voice saying his name seems to ground him, and this prompts you to get closer.

Tobirama takes the nearest towel to dab his face dry, and when he finishes, you take the towel from him and put it on the pile of used towels.

"My love," you murmur softly. "Let’s get you dressed for bed."

Tobirama takes a deep breath, and he turns to you. You wait for him to come to you instead of taking his hand to pull him forward, and from there, you follow him back into your room. Tobirama dresses in silence, and you stand there, your hands opening and closing, trying to figure out what to do next.

You are not a stranger to his changing moods, but sometimes they come unexpectedly, and they are not always the same. You know that he has stopped sleeping, and opts to skip meals to attend to whatever it is he’s busying himself with. His silhouette in the darkness is noticeably thinner, and while you are waiting for him to make you understand what he is doing or to let you know what else is bothering him, you are becoming more concerned.

You hate to see him like this.

“Tobirama,” you utter his name, and slowly, you step closer into his space. You see how tense he is, so you make your movements slow and non-urgent. “It’s okay.”

You watch him run his fingers through his hair and let out a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” you repeat. You try to control the tears that are coming.

The shadows of the dark room seem to engulf him, but you will never abandon him and leave him to fend for himself.

"I'm coming closer," you tell him, and slowly, you slide your arms around his waist from behind.

You can feel him stiffen, but it does not discourage you. You press your chest on his back and you rest your head in between his shoulder blades, and you hold him. It takes a long time, but finally, his body melts into yours and he gives into your warmth.

Tobirama lets himself rest in your embrace, and he reminds himself that you are alive, that you are breathing, and your skin has color, not like the ashen gray that dead bodies have. You are warm and supple, not cold and monumental.

He is so tired, but there is no such thing as rest for people like him. People like him rest in the battlefield, and it is both their bed and their grave.

Tobirama rests his arms on yours and he holds your arms. For a moment, you make him still. For a moment, the world falls away, and the races in his mind make its pause. He is not one to ask for much, let alone look for comfort, but for now, he lets himself be held.

After ushering him to bed, Tobirama is silent.

You sense that whatever thoughts that are swirling in his mind have settled like dust. He is not trembling anymore, and the natural paleness of his skin has returned, not like the pale green hue that he seems to embody earlier. The two of you face each other, hands entwined on your pillows. Sleep is a faraway thought, but you are glad to have him like this.

Tobirama watches you intently as you press a kiss on his knuckles, and then rest his hand under your cheek.

“I love you,” Tobirama murmurs. He rarely says this, but it always rings true. He feels ashamed for saying this to you after hiding so many secrets, but he never lies about what he feels towards you. Those three words taste gritty on his tongue, but he thinks you must know. Just in case your perception of him changes.

He doesn't deserve you, and inside, his heart clashes on trying to be worthy of your love and trying to be the leader this village needs. He is always sure of his ways, but when he sees you teetering between black and white, he questions his path because he sees a part of himself in you.

Perhaps, you do the same.

“You have to rest,” you tell him. “Send a shadow clone. Or give yourself a full day-off. For your sake.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” he tells you bluntly. “I must remain steadfast.”

“Can you really do this for long?”

“I have to,” Tobirama says. “There is no other way.”

Your eyes swim, and the pace of your heart starts to pick up. Those words scare you.

Your Senju husband will fail , Madara once said in your dreams. He will do everything right and what he is supposed to do, but in the grand scheme of things, he is nothing.

You close your eyes, feeling dread creep under your skin.

“You know I am right,” Tobirama continues.

“No.” You bite your lip. “Sometimes your right does not mean it is right.”

“I know,” Tobirama says and his eyes refuse to meet yours.

A tear escapes your eye, but Tobirama is quick to wipe it away with his free hand.

“Do not cry for me,” Tobirama says.

“How can you say that?” You say with disbelief. “I have the right to cry for you.”

Tobirama sighs, and rests his palm on your cheek. The two of you begin a staring contest, but you win when Tobirama finally looks away.

“We’re becoming ridiculous, aren’t we?”

“Quite,” Tobirama yawns.

“You still have me.” You lean towards him.

Tobirama pulls you closer, and he holds you to his chest. You close your eyes as you feel his heart underneath your ear. He still holds you as strongly and certainly.

“I will take your suggestion tomorrow,” Tobirama finally says. “One thing at a time, right?”

“Good enough for me,” you murmur into his chest and you press a kiss on it.

“All right,” Tobirama mutters, and his arms tighten around you.

To be continued...

Chapter 7 - Then >>

#angelica writes #tobirama x you #naruto #Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #senju tobirama x you #senju tobirama x reader #naruto fanfiction #'til death do us part #you never said goodbye timeline/au

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reinakahara · 3 years

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Not Even A Storm Can Wash The Tide Away - Chuoku drama track #1 translation

Otome: Is that so. So Nemu-san she… Ichijiku: Yes. Otome: If the effect of hypnosis mic has weakened, we can use the true hypnosis mic to once again- Ichijiku: No, I do not think it’d be necessary for that. Otome: Why? Ichijiku: She sympathizes with our ideology. I believe that she will still be of assistance in the future. Otome: I’m leaving her in your hands then, Ichijiku-san. Do as you wish. Ichijiku: Thank you. *knocks on the door* Staff: Excuse me. Otome: What’s the matter? Staff: I have a message for Ichijiku-sama. Ichijiku: What is it? Staff: The commanding officer of ‘Cleanspeak (Kotosarai)’―Central Crime Department’s Special Forces Unit Keitouin Honobono, has gone to Nemu-san’s room. Ichijiku: Ugh, got it, I’m going now.

*types* Nemu: Hah… What was the predecessor Tsumabira-san doing, not monitoring the perils of each division that need to be kept on a lookout for. I need to take a look at the new data too… Honobono: Nemu-chan, doing good? Nemu: Honobono-san, please knock before you enter the room. Also, can you please refrain from using –chan to call me with? Honobono: My, you don’t have to be so shy~ Nemu: I’ll get angry. Honobono: Ufufufu, you’re cute even when you’re angry~ Oh my, this big sis didn’t intend to say anything that’d warrant that glare of yours though? …Hmm. So these four divisions participated in the final tournament. Nemu: You didn’t know? Honobono: Didn’t have any interest in it, plus I was away on a mission so I had no idea. …Heh, they’re all such fine men~ And the winners from Shinjuku are… eh? Izanami Hifumi…? Kannonzaka Doppo… Nemu: What is it with these two? Honobono: It’s nothing. (Fufufu, I’m becoming more interested~) Nemu: And so, what do you want? Honobono: If you keep working hard like that, you’ll collapse~ Nemu: If I collapse just from something like this, it’ll mean my level as a person is just at that, that is. Honobono: What a strong determination, let this big sis give you a praise~ Nemu: Just say what you’re here for and get out already. Honobono: Regarding that matter on the other day, I have settled it properly~ Nemu: I haven’t received reports of them getting confined in the special prison though? Honobono: Those kids were my type, so I had them dealt with. Nemu: Honobono-san… Honobono: You got complaints, Miss Vice Chief? Nemu: …… Honobono: No, right? After all, I did talk it through with Ichijiku-san, that it’s okay to do things my own method. Nemu: But… Honobono: But? What? Nemu: I… won’t approve your way of doing things… Honobono: My my, Nemu-chan, you sure can say such cheeky words~ Nemu: …… Honobono: Oh well, whatever. Nemu: Is that all? Honobono: Yeah. Nemu: You could’ve just call or text me about it. Honobono: I came all the way here because I’ve something to ask. Nemu: What is it then? Honobono: Nemu-chan, didn’t you go to Yokohama Division the other day? Nemu: Yes, I did and? Honobono: Heard that you went to deal with your brother Samatoki-kun? Nemu: That’s not it, I just wanted to arrest him… Honobono: And then, you failed? Nemu: …… Honobono: Ah, if so, let me go instead~ Fufufufu, that face of his is my type after all. Must be very fun playing with him~ Nemu: Please stop it. Honobono: You even used your position as the vice chief to go and see him but failed, so I’m just being thoughtful and said it for your sake? Nemu: Can you please not do things as you want? Honobono: If it were me, I’d have it done in no time. Nemu: Please stop it… Honobono: What? Did you say something? Nemu: I told you to stop it!! Honobono: Oh my, since you pulled out the mic, that means it’s okay if I fight back too, right? Nemu: *starts mic* ♫「Hah, don’t make me repeat over and over, I’m eliminating the cause of worries through battle, How bad is your hearing that my words are incomprehensible? Now, I cut you down with hypnosis mic, Opening my door at times as if it’s reasonable, Commencing your doxxing manner, You no longer have a part in this, despicable, I absolutely won’t approve of you, never」♫ Honobono: Well then, it’s my turn this time. *on mic* ♫「My, quite full-blooded you are, My hearing is bad, yes so I can’t hear your barks, Challenge accepted, nevertheless you’re a paper doll, Your impudence is nothing but short, I’m a machine gun that rains attack in succession, Going all out, I’m practically a punisher, Be your opponent? It’s right up my alley, My, in that case this fight is quite unlikely」♫ Honobono: Oh, are we done here? Nemu: Not yet. *on mic* *door opens* Ichijiku: What are you two doing? Honobono: And when it was just getting better… Nemu: Ichijiku… -san… Honobono: Nemu-chan attacked me with hypnosis mic so I didn’t have a choice- Ichijiku: Quit the chatter, and leave at once! Honobono: Sure sure, I’m done here then, Miss Chief. Ichijiku: Hmph. …Nemu. Nemu: I’m sorry. Ichijiku: It’s fine, I daresay she’s the one who stirred things up it turned out that way. Nemu: Ichijiku-san… Ichijiku: However, Nemu, you’re at fault too for letting her play on you. Nemu: I’m terribly sorry. Ichijiku: Try your best not to entertain that wacko. If she pokes her nose into your business, report to me at once. Nemu: But, I can’t just trouble you over something like that- Ichijiku: It’s no problem at all. Nemu: Thank you. …Um, I have something on my mind. Ichijiku: What is it? Nemu: How does Honobono-san came to work as the commanding officer of Cleanspeak? She displays that attitude even with Otome-san and you, Ichijiku-san… Ichijiku: Her Hypnosis Mic ability is convenient for us. Nemu: Convenient? Ichijiku: Yes, she has a troublesome personality but she without a doubt executes her jobs well. Nemu: …… Ichijiku: I’m saying this a lot, but don’t get involved with her outside of work. Nemu: Okay. By the way, what can I do for you? Ichijiku: Oh, you haven’t been resting lately right? How about taking a break at once? Nemu: Thank you for your care. It’s just that there’s a lot to do for the next division battle, so I’d like to get it all done.

Ichijiku: Is that so, don’t push yourself okay? If you collapse, you’ll come to nothing. Nemu: Alright. Ichijiku: Ah yes, let’s go have some meal when we’re free next week, there’s a shop I want to treat you to some good meat at. Nemu: Yes, I’ll be happy to go along with you. Ichijiku: Sure, I’ll contact you again later. Nemu: Okay. Ichijiku: *walks out the room* Honobono: Ichijiku-san~ Ichijiku: What? Honobono: Aren’t you being quite nice to Nemu-chan? Why is that? Ichijiku: Hmp, it’s not all that different though. Honobono: How ever I think about it, it’s clearly a special treatment though? Ichijiku: If so, you’re thinking it wrongly. Honobono: I think you know this but, I’m the type that really wants something that other people cherish. That’s why, when you dote on her that much…… it makes me want to break her! Ichijiku: Try and lay your hands on her, I’ll bury you then. Honobono: Ufufu, that’d be a fun turn of events in a way. Ichijiku: *walks away* Honobono: Say, doesn’t Nemu-chan resemble Natsume-chan? Ichijiku: W-what are you saying… Honobono: I don’t need any more words by that look on your face alone. Ichijiku: Natsume…

Staff: Okay, we’re going on air! Ichijiku: Good evening, I’m Kadenokouji Ichijiku. Today’s top news is as follows. This is a follow-up news on the corruption scandal; the exposure of a president of party comrade’s huge tax evasion.

Ichijiku: Well then, I’m taking my leave now! Producer: Ahh, Kadenokouji, wait a minute. Ichijiku: Sure, what is the matter? Producer: I’d like for you to go do some interview if you can… Ichijiku: Interview, with? Producer: Yeah, the radical political party called the Party of Words; here’s some information. Ichijiku: Party leader, Tohoten Otome? Producer: It appears that they’ve been touting some rather insane political ideologies around. Go and listen to what she has to say, I’d like to release it sometime around next week. Ichijiku: Got it. Producer: Ah, one more… You don’t have to look into that corruption case you’ve been at anymore. Ichijiku: Why?! Producer: …… Ichijiku: Is somebody pressuring us into doing so, or something? Producer: Enough and just do as I said. Ichijiku: Pardon my words, but if we reporters succumb to the authorities, the depravity of the country will be worsened. I don’t want to give in- Producer: Shut it, women shouldn’t be snooping around things like that! Ichijiku: …… Producer: Get it? This is an order. Ichijiku: This have nothing to do with being a woman…

Ichijiku: Finally~ Natsume: Sister, welcome home. Ichijiku: Natsume, I’m home. Natsume: The dinner’s ready. Ichijiku: Thank you~

Ichijiku: And then, it seems like someone’s been demanding us to stop. I was scolded and he said “women shouldn’t be sniffing about such things!” too. But I’ll never give in to something like that! Natsume: Mm…… mm. Ichijiku: What’s the matter? Natsume: Isn’t it dangerous? Ichijiku: Um… no idea. But I think it’s something that those involved in the press shouldn’t succumb to. Natsume: I really respect that part of you, but… if you think it’s dangerous, stop it right away okay? Ichijiku: Mm, got it.

Woman: Ichijiku, over here. Ichijiku: Ah… You look worn out, Shimozaki-san. Shimozaki: Ah… kinda. Ichijiku: So, what about that thing? Shimozaki: It’s all in this USB. Ichijiku: May I take a look now? Shimozaki: Yeah. Ichijiku: This is… incredible…! If this is made public, arrest can be made, from the local governor all the way to the Prime Minister. …How did you get this? Shimozaki: I’ve been at it as a freelance journalist for a few decades too, it wasn’t for nothing. Ichijiku: Why are you giving this to me…? Shimozaki: I’m backing out from this case. Ichijiku: You’re backing out? Why? Shimozaki: I have my family. If I go on any further they might be exposed to danger. Ichijiku: Did something happen? Shimozaki: A threatening letter was sent to my workplace. Ichijiku: Threatening letter…? Shimozaki: *sighs* So be it if I’m the one they lay their hands on, but if anything happens to my family… Ichijiku: But… will the government really go that far? Shimozaki: ……This is as far as I can go. Ichijiku, you should be careful too. Ichijiku: Looks like this case is even darker than I thought. Wait, it’s this time already? I won’t make it to the interview if I don’t hurry!

Ichijiku: Excuse me. Otome: Come in. Ichijiku: Do you mind if I put the camera there? Otome: I don’t, go ahead. Ichijiku: Nice to meet you, I’m Kadenokouji Ichijiku from Koyou TV. Otome: Nice to meet you too, I’m Tohoten Otome. Please, have a seat. Ichijiku: Thank you. Excuse my haste, but I’ll be asking you a few questions, I’d appreciate your cooperation. Otome: Of course, do ask me anything. Ichijiku: There’s been support from some people towards the Party of Words, however it’s also been said that its political ideologies are quite wild. Otome: I can’t tell if it’s wild… or anything. From how I look at it, we’re merely publishing things that are a matter of course. Ichijiku: ……The ‘Eliminate men, and establish women as the political power’, you mean? Otome: Yes, quite so. Ichijiku: By ‘eliminating the men’, what kind of aim do you have in mind? Otome: Men are naturally born to fight. There’s no way to leave the country in the hands of those barbaric lots. Ichijiku: I believe there are female politicians around too though. Otome: Even if there are, the male ones are overwhelmingly many, don’t you think? And the leading cabinet are mostly men. For the sake of their self-interest, they indulge in corruption and parachuting, receive dark money. That does not apply only in the political world. You’ve experienced getting oppressed by those kind of people too, haven’t you? Ichijiku: …! Otome: I believe you have, as a fellow female. Ichijiku: Yeah… Otome: That is why, I feel the need to reset the country as soon as possible. If things go on like this the war will repeat, and it can be proven from the history of this country. Ichijiku: …… Otome: With women as the core, we’ll reconstruct the country. Ichijiku: I see, understood. Thank you very much for letting me hear a valuable talk today. Otome: Not at all, thank you too. …Ah, Kadenokouji-san. Ichijiku: What is the matter? Otome: I believe you’ll come to understand one day what I talked about earlier. Ichijiku: Ah…… Please excuse me.

Ichijiku: The leader of the Party of Words, Tohoten Otome… Setting her thoughts aside, she has a curious persuasiveness. Reporter: On to the next news. Today at around 5pm, Shimozaki Karin-san and her family has been found dead at the Kyoto’s canal. Ichijiku: Eh? Reporter: The Metropolitan Police is viewing it as a murder case, and is on an investigation progress. Ichijiku: Shimozaki… -san… Shimozaki: I have my family. If I go on any further they might be exposed to danger. Ichijiku: …! Natsume!

Ichijiku: Natsume!! Natsume! Answer me if you’re around! ……S-she’s not here… *phone rings* Huh? A withheld number… Hello? Man: Good evening, I am a secretary of a certain member of the Diet. Ichijiku: ……! Secretary: Have you noticed that your younger sister isn’t there? Ichijiku: Where is Natsume? Is she alright?? Secretary: She is, still unharmed. Ichijiku: Why are you doing this?! Secretary: Now go to the appointed place and bring along the data Shimozaki Karin gave to you. If you don’t… you know what’ll happen, yes? Ichijiku: ……Understood. Secretary: Then listen well, the place is…

Secretary: You’re here earlier than I thought. Ichijiku: Where’s Natsume…? Where is she!? Secretary: The data comes first. I’m taking it. ……Hm, this is it. Ichijiku: Where is she? Secretary: In that room, sleeping. Ichijiku: !! Natsume! Natsume? Natsume? *realizes something wrong* Natsume? Natsume?? Natsume!!! Secretary: I told you she’s asleep. In an extremely still, eternal sleep, that is. Ichijiku: *wails* Wake up!!! Secretary: You don’t have to be so sad, I’ll send you to the same place as her right away. Otome: This is why men are… *mic on* ♫「Your game is up, you foolish lots, If you don’t wish to die, then you boys begone, Boundless lunacy, wretched, how inferior, I’m a match for thousands, unyielding! 」♫ Secretary: W-what was that, what’s going on?? Otome: Kadenokouji-san. Ichijiku: Tohoten-san… w-why are you… Otome: I was targeting the Diet member who’s deploying that secretary of his. Secretary: ……Who the fuck are you? Otome: I don’t have a name to give to a crude being such as you. Secretary: You’re just a woman, don’t look down on me! Otome: Hmph. *mic on* ♫「You lowly follower, don’t make me laugh, Can you fight back in such a state? Will you die a savage death or will you live? I have no need of you, do not get in the way, Tragic history is repeating, with your foolish acts, Armed yet powerless, it’s the dual wielding of words, Now’s the time for steep karma, Men, if you don’t wish to die, step down」♫ Secretary: *screams*

Ichijiku: Natsume… Otome: She is… Ichijiku: She’s my sister… the only family I have… I… I might as well have killed her… Natsume…! Otome: I’m so sorry, if only I had arrived earlier… Ichijiku-san, do you remember the things I said a while ago? Ichijiku: …The things… you said…? Otome: That “men are naturally born to fight”. Ichijiku: Y-yeah… Otome: Therefore we women should have the power, to govern the boorish men. Use this. Ichijiku: This is…? Otome: A hypnosis microphone. Ichijiku: Hypnosis… microphone? Otome: With this mic, we can fight with words. Please come with me. And then, we will prevent any more victims like your sister. Ichijiku: Yes. …Natsume, I will change this world.

Ichijiku: Natsume… Nemu: Eh? Ichijiku-san, did something happen? You’re just staring off into the space there. Ichijiku: Oh, nah, it’s nothing. Nemu: Ah... Ichijiku: Natsume, your sister is still doing her best.

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translation notes:

Regarding the drama track’s title and Kotosarai, the official english translation was provided in the Hypmic website.

Parachuting here can mean ‘peremptory’, ‘imposition’, and ‘unfair landing into high positions in a corporation etc for lucrative gains, especially those who holds important position outside’. In japanese, it’s called amakudari.

#chuoku #hypmic #hypmic drama track #kotonohatoh #chuoku drama track #hypmic translation #chuoku translation #chuohku

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atlascas · 3 years

Text

DEANCAS FIC REC

(last updated 7/1)

FINALLY. this is like. just a place for me to rec and write excessively abt the fics i've been reading lately. it won't be organized but it WILL be very earnest and i'll keep it updated as i find/remember more. also i have obnoxiously high standards when it comes to fic so these ARE the cream of the crop, if u will. the god tier. the s tier.

very loosely organized into "newer fic" and "classics." these are subjective categories. do what you will

✨ = new fic on the list

💖 = in my brain rent free!

CURRENTLY READING

these are the fics that i’m currently reading! may or may not get recced. usually i read the first couple paragraphs/lines and if i like the writing it gets bookmarked and put on this list.

lazarus needs a robe of scarlet thread by herrosesneverfall, 90k, canonverse au. dean starts getting stigmata. when i was getting back into spn there were a LOT of religious fics flying around bc that was the Hot Topic of Discussion. this was one of them

Three weeks ago, Dean woke up in a pine box. He thought dealing with the nightmares was going to be the most difficult part of his new life after Hell, but at least they were something he could understand. Something he could deal with. Something he deserved.

Then he began having agonizing visions of crucifixion. Wounds appeared on his body out of nowhere. Wounds that refused to heal and coated his skin with the sickly sweet smell of roses.

Stigmata are said to be the marks of saints, but Dean is not a saint and the wounds are only the beginning.

kingdom come by ahurston, 8.7k, coda to 15x18. cas gets to go home. im gathering all the s15 fix-its to my heart and holding them close

Cas wakes up on the coast of Maine. He makes his way home.

hunger by ellispark, 10.8k, s13 au. dean grieves cas, post s12 finale. perfect writing perfect awful heartwrenching characterization so far on dean’s end especially towards jack. nuanced emotional writing

Dean takes his meal and throws it away, plate and all. He's not hungry. How can he even begin to eat, knowing what he kept from Cas — what he kept from both of them?

They could have had something, and now all Dean has is this gaping, empty hole in his stomach, in his chest, and he has to learn to breathe and eat and move around it.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog, 60.8k, canonverse. cas loving dean in all permutations of humanity, throughout time.

“And what’s the point of it?”

“Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

NEWER FIC

“newer” just means “i discovered it in 2020/2021 after coming back to spn fandom” so it very well could have been published before 2015 but really who’s checking. not me that’s for sure.

💖 so says the sword by komodobits, 85k, s4 au. cas guards the michael sword in the beautiful room. this is easily the MOST obvious rec on this entire list but it was the first fic i read when i got back into spn this year and jesus christ it set the bar sky fucking high. the way they create a coherent mythology out of the mess that is spn canon is incredible.

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

assimilation by komodobits, 5.6k, coda to 12x01. mary meets dean and cas and they go to find sam. such good character studies of all three of them. the best mary pov fic i’ve read

Mary always thought you were supposed to be able to tell. That you could just look at someone and know they were – you know. One of that sort. It’s not supposed to happen to her son.

cuckoo and nest by komodobits, 10k, ambiguously canonverse. dean and cas navigate relationship anxiety. cute, in character, and their relationship is realistic and the conflict well-written and emotionally nuanced and really really really good.

For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental.

It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless.

💖 one white lie by komodobits, 11k, au. cas panics when trying to ask dean out and has to fake being a jehovah’s witness. it’s adorable and hilarious and it’s been ages since i actually got butterflies at a kiss in a fic but this did it. it did it. it felt like someone swaddled my soul in a cashmere blanket and kissed me on the forehead

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

a crash course in someone else’s history by annie d (scaramouche), 11.5k, set during s6. cas comes to as his s4 self without any memories of the past two years and has to figure out what the fuck is going on. it’s kind of like so says the sword. you’ll know it when you get to it.

Castiel is captured inside a trapping circle of holy oil set by Dean and Sam Winchester. The brothers call him "Cas", claiming that he has amnesia and that he is obligated to help them take down Crowley to atone for his betrayal of them. It's the strangest story Castiel's ever heard, and one he doesn't have time for because he's only just raised Dean from Hell and has work to get back to.

💖 cas and dean’s adventures in gardening by ahurston, 19k, post-canon au. a series featuring dean and cas living in the bunker, human. cas is very into plants. i read this yesterday actually and it made me smile SO much it’s just so lovely and sweet. i’m also a sucker for any fic where cas has a garden. he deserves a fucking garden okay

In this post-God world, everything is different. A little quieter, a little softer. Cas grows a garden, Dean cooks, and they take care of each other.

tall grass by aeli_kindara, 57k, post-s12. dean and cas live in the bunker on their own, and cas grows a garden. i did say i love fics where cas has a garden. plus domesticity, plus some good case fic, PLUS dean and cas’ relationship is so gentle and good

“I think we should have a garden,” Cas says.

Dean looks up from his beer. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but Cas still has a vague look of unreality about him, a splash of living color that doesn’t fit in the bunker’s echoing stillness. Dean didn’t hear him coming. A lot of the time, Cas is so unobtrusive it feels like Dean has the bunker to himself, with Sam away.

Dean shakes his head to clear it. “A — garden?” he repeats.

in a week by renrub, 2.3k, post 15x18. cas is in the empty. dean saves him. this is genuinely the best “dean pulls cas out of the empty” fic i’ve read so far like conceptually this entire thing just fucks. when cas is cycling through the barn scene. god. SO well written

Castiel is outside a barn covered in sigils. He frowns. This isn’t right. This has never been something he repented for.

i won’t even wish for snow by annie d (scaramouche), 5.6k, college au. cas goes to the winchesters’ for christmas. honestly scaramouche fics belong in the classics section bc she’s like an og deancas writer but whatever. mistletoe! banter! good in-character au! this fic’s got it all

It’s the third year that Castiel’s spending Christmas with his best friend’s family, and he expects it to be much like the previous two. Then mistletoe happens.

convenient husbands by annie d (scaramouche), 39k, canonverse au. cas is a phoenix, dean is a hunter. they get married and have a sick psychic bond. unexpectedly fluffy considering how the fic starts and i love the banter so much and dean/cas’ relationship gets fleshed out and organically developed it’s very cute

"It's only temporary, right?" Dean says. "Just until you're healed up, and then we'll never have to see each other again. So what do you say, Castiel, do you want to marry me or not?"

cinderwings by bendingsignpost, 181k, cinderella au. cas goes to a masquerade ball to save his people from an eternity trapped in a void. he meets prince dean. i can’t tell u how much this fic drew me in - thru good worldbuilding, but mostly thru cas’ social awkwardness. like it works PERFECTLY to his advantage in this fic and reading how expertly he manipulates social situations w/o any fucking idea what he’s doing is both hilarious and inspiring

Under the cover of a masquerade ball, Castiel has five nights to recover the key to his people's freedom. The world has changed greatly in the six centuries since their banishment into the void, but the task isn't impossible. Unfortunately for Castiel, this is going to involve talking to people - especially the Knight Prince who has taken an interest in Castiel and his "costume" wings.

as the crow flies by bendingsignpost, 3.4k, au. dean and cas go on a roadtrip. cas has wings! it’s so dreamlike and meandering and the slowburn is so good. honestly it reminds me of stevebucky/stevesam post tws era roadtrip fics if ur hip LMAO

Cross country road trips with Cas are the best.

long-term relationship by bendingsignpost, 2.7k, au. dean and cas have a Serious Conversation about their relationship.

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers, 7k, ambiguously canonverse. dean is trans. dean and cas are fucking and lowkey hiding it from sam. perfect character study PERFECT trans dean fic it’s so fucking well-written

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

💖 the love story of the runner up by margo_kim, 4.7k, ambiguously canonverse. cas tries dating other men. bear with me here. this is an outside pov fic from an oc named miguel who is WONDERFULLY characterized and very endearing like i find outsider/oc pov to be on Thin Fucking Ice bc it always ends up as fandom/author self-insert but miguel is his OWN MAN. he gets his own lil arc and everything. dean and cas are concentrated perfectly crystallized versions of themselves and the little glimpses we get of them are amazing. ALSO i wrote like 9k of an spn vent fic (basically the same premise but w an oc named marcus) back in like. freshman yr of hs. so when i first opened this fic i was like what the fuck someone’s been in my google docs. very weird experience 10/10 regardless

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”

“If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story.”

For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

sunshine by northernsparrow, 8k, set during s13. dean and cas have a long conversation about their Profound Bond. the description left me off-balance (it really. really truly says “dean is straight in this fic” like okay bro WEIRD hill to die on) but it pulled through w the relationship study and reassurance and snuggles. a sweet fic

One-shot with a single conversation between Dean and Castiel, set in a late-S13-ish world. Gabriel, Cas, Sam & Dean are all living in the bunker together, Gabe's been cracking certain jokes, Sam's found a certain book, Cas is injured and isn’t healing... and it's all making Dean wonder if his angel friend might have some sort of a "bond" with... somebody? Whatever that means.

Maybe it's time for a talk.

💖 still life by catchclaw, 16.5k, post-s8. cas, newly human, goes to live on his own for a while. he and dean maintain a relationship thru the phone. this is LITERALLY the only first person fic i fucking respect okay like i was skeptical! i really was! but the pov is PERFECT and also my man kevin tran is in this fic and i love him and miss him very much. oh and cas going off to explore humanity on his own..............perfect arc. very much in character we love that for him

Dean'd always thought that falling in love was a capital letter kind of thing, an Important Event you carved into the calendar of your life and never, ever forgot. But with he and Cas, it wasn't that simple.

it’s mostly cowardice, and bad timing by ferritin4, 1.6k, pre-canon. actually this one is just a dean study it’s not deancas but i spent an entire night looking for it and i need someone else to read it too. dean is smart!!! SAY THAT

Dean gets his GED.

a list of reasons the bunker shouldn’t get a sofa by lizbobjones, 5.6k, set during s12. sam and dean and mary and cas haul a sofa back to the bunker. cute domesticity and fluff

Let me count the ways that this is a terrible idea.

no kingdom to come by domesticadventures, 16.8k, canonverse. dean and cas deal with being stuck in quarantine in different ways. this is the one and only quarantine fic i’ve read and it’s really good lmao. dean and cas’ relationship is so organic and tentative in this one

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

till the juice runs by deathbanjo, 8.4k, canonverse. it’s like dean’s being cursed to have bad hookups with men. SUCH a funny fic and the deancas tension is so simple and sweet and GOOD. plus cas is so enjoyably characterized here he’s so human and worn in and experienced in his own unique way. perfect use of rowena too

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

turn of the year by kototyph, 3.9k, canonverse au. sam and dean get stuck out in the middle of nowhere on the winter solstice. what i wouldn’t give for a full 80k of this verse actually. also i went on a kototyph binge after reading shut up put your money where your mouth is and they have a SOLID spn repertoire

Fifteen minutes later, Dean gets back in the car with empty hands and ice in his fucking eyebrows. “Get the map out,” he says through chattering teeth, sticking numb fingers under his arms.

Sam holds up the battered 1995 Rand MacNally they keep in the side pocket, turned to a page of uninterrupted green. “We’re going to die,” he announces.

💖 bullets in the gun by kototyph, 4.9k, canonverse au. cas is a cop (i know. still) who gets kidnapped by dean in an unfortunate turn of events. GOD this fic is SO FUNNY. cas’ canny and strategic escape attempts render him a very active VERY funny pov character plus the hate attraction to dean is PERFECTLY WRITTEN VERY BELIEVABLE. dean’s kindness also shines thru even as he literally holds cas hostage like!!!! PERFECT characterization. both of them are so LIKABLE here. if you read anything on this list read this

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

as you will by kototyph, 1.8k, victorian au. cas endures a proposal mishap. it’s cute it’s funny it’s sweet!

"No?" Castiel echoes, dumbly.

and if i was looking too? by kototyph, 2.6k, au. cas is undercover where dean works. this fic is just so cute like. bird angels.................

There are some things Castiel hasn't told Dean, and there are some things he doesn't need to.

the most important thing by northernsparrow, 94.5k, s10 au. amnesiac cas raising claire until he comes across someone familiar. claire is so well characterized here i really loved her arc thruout this fic. she just wants her dad back and u can’t even blame her the author rlly does an amazing job creating realistic and heartbreaking motivations for her. oh and dean and cas (esp cas characterization!) are sweet in this but honestly the highlight IS claire for me

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

there’s only one sure thing that i know by blinkiesays, 20.3k, post-s5. dean goes to help cas out in ohio and they end up building a home together. i love the writing it’s rlly funny and sweet.

Dean doesn't even get halfway through explaining before Bobby starts laughing. When he lets himself think about it for more than five seconds, Dean can almost see Bobby's point: he's faced down demons, witches, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, angels, and Satan himself and now he's been defeated by the God damn Midwest.

💖 to an angel, love and worship are the same thing by geminisage, 10.3k, post s15 fix it. dean grieves cas - and then cas gets brought back back from the empty. i didn’t have this in my bookmarks so i MISSED it the first time around on this list but this was another one of the fics i came back to spn fandom to. it’s so fucking unique?? it actually reads like spn like i think fic tends to soften dean/cas up and makes them more emotional + emotionally intelligent than is ever shown in the show. here the dialogue/characterization adheres RIGOROUSLY to their communication in canon in that dean’s not overtly emotional, and cas is very reserved. they have to negotiate their relationship exactly like they would in the show. it’s all clipped conversation and anger and hurt and (warning btw) LOTS of internalized homophobia on dean’s end but it’s SO worth it. dean navigating his [GESTURES VAGUELY] everything is compellingly written, emotionally true, and PERFECTLY characterized. cas characterization also amazing like u rlly feel the quiet devoted bittersweet love. ok this was long clearly it’s a good fic go read it now

Just as Dean knew they would, the weeks do stretch into months, and then into a year. Grief never gets easier, Dean knows from experience, but you do get better at it. After all, you can get used to anything.

the violin house by teh_helenables, 8.5k, post-s5. dean and cas build a home after stull. so slow and lovely and sweet and gentle. i need to put this here so that i don’t forget it tbh. it’s very much dean as a war wife cas as the husband away on the front

The Apple Pie Life is a slow process, but Dean and Cas are getting there—until Cas is called for battle and Dean is forced to wait.

💖 muscle memory by komodobits, 18.9k, au. amnesiac cas wakes up three years in the future with dean in his kitchen. komodobits DOES NOT FUCKING MISS!!! i CRIED at the end of this i had NO INTENTION OF CRYING the rest of the fic isn’t even SAD i just had to sit there at the end of it w tears dribbling down my face. INSANE work of art

Dear Castiel,

Hello – it’s Castiel. This must all seem very confusing, and I’m sorry for that. Dean says to tell you that this isn’t some kind of ‘time-travel stunt’, although I’m sure that won’t be your first thought. I know it wasn’t mine. I’ve told Dean to leave now, as this is my notebook and I want everything in it to come from me – or rather, from you. I know you think it's the fifteenth of January, 2010, but it isn't. At the time of my writing this, the date is the fourth of October, 2013. Dean Winchester is your boyfriend of a year and a half, and you no longer work at the library, and in early 2010 you were hit by a car and hospitalised. I’m sorry.

a.k.a the 50 First Dates Dean/Cas AU where Castiel wakes up on a day just like any other, except that three years have passed without his knowing, and Dean Winchester is in the kitchen wanting to marry him.

don’t forget the experience points by annie d (scaramouche), 10.8k, au. cas is sam’s work friend, and he and dean get to know each other. genuinely an adorable fic. i adore cas’ characterization in this it’s snarky AND awkward AND confident in a way that i absolutely believe he would be if he had 30 yrs of human life under his belt

It's because Dean was an awesome brother than he took such an interest in Sam's new friend. No, really. What happened afterwards was mostly an accident.

actus fidei by manic_intent, 5.6k, canonverse au. dean’s a priest, cas is still his angel. i was HOOKED from the description alone like That’s Everything I Love in One Sentence. Cool!!!!!!!!!!!!

On the very first time that Castiel manifests in front of Father Dean Winchester, he gets as far as "Rejoice, for you are blessed-" before Dean shoots him with a salt-loaded shotgun.

not with a bang but a yelp by strange_estrangement, 1.4k, canonverse. team free will leave yelp reviews. this isn’t d/c actually it’s just a crack-ish fic but the formatting is cool and the references are SO funny and so well done

What happens when you visit dozens and dozens of motels every year? You leave Yelp reviews.

the courtship of combat by bendingsignpost, 18.2k, medieval a/b/o au. cas is politically coerced into fighting in a courtship melee for prince dean's hand, and he teams up with two unexpected allies to do it. I KNOW HOW THE ABO THING SOUNDS but i swear it's done well - it's by bendingsignpost so ofc he puts his own spin on the premise. im absurdly into it. PLUS jack is in it!!!!!!! it's technically an unfinished series but the first part is so good just on its own

When pressed upon to mate for a political alliance, Commander Castiel dares to refuse his king. As “I do not wish to mate at all” is clearly the wrong thing to say, Castiel takes the other path and lies. “You must know my affections lie elsewhere, my king.”

King Michael studies Castiel’s face long and hard. Then, with a nod, he snaps his fingers, pointing to Castiel. “The Winchester omega.”

“Yes,” Castiel says with no real recollection of who that is.

The ruse of an unavailable omega works well enough, right up until that omega is no longer unavailable. Then, with what seems to be his entire nation cheering him on toward victory, Castiel must enter the melee to win his mate. Backed by allies, training, and his own natural talents, the only question is how well he can contrive to fail.

four letter word for intercourse by bendingsignpost, 194.7k, au. dean calls a sex hotline. OH BOY solid characterization excellent plot/premise like bendingsignpost is so good at turning absurd premises into realistic, believable fiction. also sex hotline fic is usually a BIG turn-off bc of the power dynamics/one-sidedness of a relationship based on sex work but. BUT. bendingsignpost does it well! it’s not weird at ALL i started reading and was immediately reassured abt its intentions and its plot direction

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

the tunnel of love by xylodemon, 21.4k, post-canon. case fic! dean and cas have to kiss on a loveboat to solve a case >:)

"We might," Cas starts slowly, pausing like he's choosing his words. "We might have to kiss."

Dean just stares at him.

when you have a future. by firebog, 17.6k, post-s8. dean and sam and cas learning to be human post-apocalypse. reminds me of robotmango’s writing! it’s kind of eccentric and very very sweet and funny.

Sam closes Hell. Castiel closes Heaven. The heroes save the day. There's no Heaven or Hell waiting to cause the next big disaster. There's no more end of the world. There's only a squirmy feeling in his chest that feels a lot like freedom. So, now what?

(Things I promise you in this fic: dog poetry, rabbits, and fluff)

six inch heels by alitneroon, 2.3k, canonverse. dean does drag! excellent fucking character study. prose is fantastic

Dean does drag on a whim, and ends up in way over his head.

sharing is caring by gateskeeper, 2.5k, canonverse. five times dean and cas shared something and one time they didn’t. look. sometimes u just need some saccharine tropey fluff. it’s VERY well written

Sam knows that Dean and Cas have shared a lot together, but ever since Cas became human permanently, it seems like they've been sharing a lot more.

Or: five times Dean and Cas shared something special and one time Dean refused to.

💖 empty spaces by schmerzerling, 60k, au. dean has to take care of his dying father, and takes up running to cope. that’s just the beginning. HEAVY trigger warnings for ED (specifically anorexia) and suicidal thoughts. there is a happy ending, but dean has to fight to make it there. god. okay. this is a dark fic. it’s also one of the most well-characterized fics i’ve ever read. dean’s spiral is excruciatingly accurate and written with the kind of wry compassion that comes from either extensive research or extensive experience. it’s also completely immersed in dean’s perspective - dean’s relationship w his dad, dean’s relationship w food scarcity, etc. it’s incredible. it’s kinda scary. it’s deeply sad. cas is explicitly autistic and it’s ALSO incredibly accurate and loving, and makes cas so true to his canon self. ugh. and i burst into TEARS at some of the accompanying art, which is so sparse and lonely and beautiful. 100/10 experience one of the best fics i’ve read this year

Dean is fine. The way he sees it, things are simple. He had a house and a family and food in his stomach, and now he doesn't. And yeah, that's a downer, but he's not going to let that stop him from being fine, because he's in control of the situation. He definitely doesn't need anyone to save him. And it's not like the weird guy with the nice butt from down the road is the knight-in-shining-armor type, anyway.

broken road by thegeminisage, 109.6k, 14x13 au. dean makes a wish and gets more than he bargained for. a lot of “john comes back” fics are kinda short on nuance, which this author has talked about a lot - and oh MAN does this fic deliver on nuance. john’s abuse is absolutely present, but his pov makes him a complex character instead of a flat caricature for dean to reject. and the way this fic resolves really makes it clear that the priority is dean’s emotional well-being over all else!!! this isn’t about dean taking the path fandom thinks he should take w his abuser (killing john, punching john in the face, etc), this is abt dean coming to terms w his abuse and finding his own emotionally satisfying way of resolving it. also dean and cas are in an established relationship and it’s very slow and sweet.

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

home is not a place by imogenbynight, 6.8k, post-s11. human cas struggles with belonging, and dean struggles with their relationship. this reads a lot like komodobits’ cuckoo and nest, but it’s its own sweet little thing. they watch movies!!! very cute

In which Dean is the oblivious one for a change.

love: a retrospective by xylodemon, 40.7k, post-s12. dean tries to deal w cas’ absence after s12 and reflects on their relationship thru the years. this was written before s13 aired, so - no spoilers - but jack plays a different role than he ends up playing in canon. it’s kinda fun seeing ppl’s theories pre-s13 tbh. makes me VERY glad that they took jack in the direction they did in show. anyway this is THEE definitive “they’ve been fucking all along” fic

Pretending Cas is just his friend has been the only thing keeping Dean's head on straight for years. He never realized how much doing that depended on him making himself scarce in the morning ─ not until Cas came back and moved into the bunker.

✨💖 if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee, 37k, post-s15 fix-it. cas gets broken out of the empty - and he immediately makes a break for it. new fave fix-it!!!! the writing is so understated and so straightforward - SO in character for cas tbh - that every single emotional beat feels like a PUNCH. and there are so many amazing character moments it made my chest seize the fuck up!!!!! perfect characterization perfect relationship moments perfect cas/jack parenting moments. the yearning over the phone is OFF THE CHARTS and spocklee makes the most of that tension!!!! PLUS old canon characters get to make fun appearances!!!!! i cannot recommend this shit enough

After the Empty, Cas has to spend some time alone. Orpheus tries to convince Eurydice over the phone that it’s okay to turn around now.

✨ before and after breakfast by spocklee, 10.5k, post-canon. dean and sam and cas tackle a monster of the week case with unexpected consequences. perfect pov perfect relationship moments SUCH GOOD TENSION. again this writing style just lets the tension dial up to 1000% every word is meaningful and it makes my chest hurt!!! spocklee SHOULD have blown up during the spn renaissance and i STAND by that

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

CLASSICS

isn't it cool how every person has diff fics they consider "classics?" anyway these are required fucking reading. if u've been around these will prob be old news.

💖 asunder by rageprufrock, 23k, au. dean and cas go to sam's wedding. i reread this once a year like a religious ritual.

Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matthew 19:6)

💖 the girlfriend experience by rageprufrock, 15k, set during s5. dean teaches cas how to be human. mostly the sex part. literally the gold fucking standard of s4-5 era deancas fic and for deancas fic in general, personally

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

okay, cupid. by orange_crushed, 4.5k, au. dean tries to sign up for an ok cupid profile and has a revelation. as soon as i put this entry down i realized this entire fic rec was an exercise in futility, because if i could i'd literally just rec everything orange_crushed/robotmango has ever written. still one of THEE best authors in this fandom. go read all her fics. i’ll put the highlights here

"The dating thing?" Dean frowns. "Online dating is for weirdos. Robots. Dudes hanging out in their basements."

"You hang out in your basement."

"I have an air hockey table down there,” Dean says, icily.

💖 pwp: pie without plot by orange_crushed and majorenglishesquire, 82k, post-s8. sam and dean and cas quit hunting for a little bit to open a bakery. this is my comfort fic. i love it so so much.

he is in the kitchen with flour on his hands and an apron and there is flour on his forehead and cas leans across the counter and wipes it off with his thumb and dean says "thank you" and cas says "you’re welcome" very seriously and later dean makes apple turnovers and he only ruins them a little and sam realizes it’s not a real hunt like four days into it and he lets dean stay undercover for like a week and a half or longer maybe way longer because he is such a good everything

💖 la cucina by orange_crushed, 4k, post-s8. dean gets into cooking for a newly human cas. it's so gentle and loving and kind and makes me tear up every time. YES food is a comfort item and expression of love for dean. no i don't want to talk about it

Dean turns around and Castiel is picking through the jars, turning them over carefully to read the labels, totally engrossed. Dean watches him.

"Is there," Dean says, "uh, anything in there you like?" Castiel looks up at him and then back at the apples, sitting in a basket on the counter in their golden skins, ripe and pretty. Castiel smiles up at Dean.

"I don’t know yet," he says.

today, your barista verse by orange_crushed, 13.6k, coffeeshop au. a series of short sweet lovely fics where cas is a barista and dean is a smitten customer. literally the only coffeeshop au i respect

"Is that-"

"My number," says Dean, because he's a fucking champion, he's cool, he's collected, he's Captain Smooth of the USS Smoothtania, that's right. He is definitely not leaning against the counter for moral support. Cas doesn't looked seduced or impressed, though. He does not look like a dude who just met Captain Smooth and wants to ride the loveboat. He looks puzzled.

fata morgana. by orange_crushed, 6.6k, post-s9. dean is the king of hell. bela and cas team up to find him. bela pov. yeah you fucking heard that right BELA POV. BELA AND CAS!!!!!!!!!! makes me lose my mind i love everyone in this stupid desolate fucking hell wasteland.

The endless asphalt and broken road, the empty land and piles of human garbage, the unwanted ends of life, the cracked toys and broken screens and burning cars and gravel. Dean Winchester is the king of hell.

"Oh," says Bela.

That changes certain things.

💖 gran fury. by orange_crushed, 5k, pacific rim au. sam and cas pair up in a last ditch mission to save the world. permanently damaged me at age 15 and i've never recovered. major fucking angst warning.

They sit in silence and Castiel passes him the bottle. There’s not much left to say. Sam takes a gulp and it burns going down, like the cheap shit it is. He holds the bottle up against the light. He can see the Fury through it, distorted like a funhouse mirror. She’s a tomb but Sam loves her. Loves everything that’s left.

"To the end of the world," he says.

"To the end of the world," says Castiel.

💖 shut up (put your money where your mouth is) by kototyph, 24k, au. dean and cas get drunk married in vegas. dean renovates cas' house. this fic is SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered/expected and the entire series is fucking adorable go read it RIGHT now

Dean's done some pretty stupid things, but getting drunk-hitched in Vegas to a colleague he barely knows might just take the cake. His surprise husband, Castiel, is a little weird but likable despite that, and Dean figures they’ll go back to Boston, get a quiet annulment, and go their separate ways. Six weeks later, he’s still married to one of the strangest, most genuine and definitely most dangerously lov-- likable guys he's ever known. Dean doesn't know why or really even how it’s happening, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember that he has divorce papers to file.

not part of the plan by annie d (scaramouche), 338k, arranged marriage au. cas is slated to marry a noble from the winchester house. things spiral out of control. if you’re looking for an extensive well-developed political au, this is fucking it. i love reading about political machinations so this was FASCINATING to me.

Castiel's spent most of his adult life keeping his head down and staying out of trouble. This is a deliberate choice on his part, because as a cousin of the King, he'd rather stay unimportant and forgotten. This changes abruptly when King Michael decides that he has a better use for Castiel: he is to be wed to a noble member of the neighboring Republic, as part of an agreement between their two nations.

Castiel knows he has to obey, but that doesn't mean he won't rebel in what small ways he can. Unexpectedly, his actions end up having far-reaching consequences.

💖 all things shining by askance and standbyme, 142k, au. sam and dean and cas go on a hunt that's not really a hunt, and against all odds good things happen. it's beautifully written and has scenes that literally make my heart leap out of my chest with joy and awe it's just WONDERFUL it's a wonderful fic. incredible mythology too omg i found that the authors actually created the myth the entire story is based on - like they don’t pull a random one from history, they made one up THEMSELVES. they even self-published it on amazon if ur curious

Something in the world is waking up.

It isn’t long before it’s brought to the attention of the Winchesters and Castiel: miracles are spreading across the country, the paranormal seems to be shrinking back on itself—and it all has something to do with the missing prayer book of a traveling preacher who died over a century ago.

Dean is convinced it’s all the lead-up to another Apocalypse; Sam and Castiel aren’t so sure. Regardless, it sends them out on a less-than-typical road-trip, following the Mississippi and remnants of a very old story that seems increasingly to call to them. And along the way the trio learn much more about themselves—and the consequences and origins of love—than they’d ever have anticipated.

💖 broadway musical by griftings, 12.4k, crack. romcom where cas is supposed to play matchmaker to dean and jo and well. you know. it actually made me cackle out loud when i read it again so you know it's still good. absolutely one of the funniest fics i’ve read

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

the five people you meet in heaven by chevrolangels, 22k, ambiguously canonverse. dean dies and goes to heaven and meets five people from his life. NOT a post-finale fic but still horrifically sad. i remember sobbing hysterically when i first read this so

Heaven is white.

Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.

Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

any port in a storm by microcomets, 53k, post-s8. dean and cas go on a haunted cruise for a case. you know what happens next. also the art is by anobviousaside and it's gorgeous

The angels have fallen, leaving Castiel graceless and Dean with, well, more of other people’s problems. When a string of couples goes missing on the east coast, Dean and Cas decide to investigate—and find themselves trapped and hunted on a couples’ counseling cruise. Although battling monsters at sea is dangerous enough, sorting through emotional baggage proves to be far more deadly. (And, in which Cas embarks to find his missing grace and Dean is put out. Not necessarily in that order.)

a turn of the earth by microcomets, 95k, pre-canon au. cas is on the run from the empty and crash lands in dean's life. at one point he punches john in the face. a fucking beautifully written character study of pre-canon dean, honestly.

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

unfinished duet by microcomets, 5.8k, canonverse. sam observes dean and cas throughout the years. i remember this breaking my heart back in 2013!

Sam watches Dean and Cas over the years and notices a few things. (Or, Dean and Cas unscripted.)

💖 ergative/absolutive by glassedplanets, 8k, college au. dean and cas are best friends who meet in an astronomy class. i'm never not thinking about this fic it's so sweet and the friends to lovers is so soft and believable

He really shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this about his best friend who literally just broke up with his girlfriend, but he knows he’ll blame it on sleepiness in the morning. He always does.

a certain light by flightagain, 24k, au. cas works at the gas n sip. dean is a customer. this author’s writing style is so lonely and heavy but it’s very lovely

Castiel works at the Gas-n-Sip. There are half-price nachos and flickering lights, there are office-workers and werewolves stopping by for snacks. Dean is a frequent customer, and his office might be haunted.

the one thing you can’t lose by majorenglishesquire, 5k, ambiguously canonverse. dean can pull cas around and it’s adorable. character study-ish. very sweet.

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

brother lover by twentysomething, 4k, set during s4/s5. dean’s jealous of sam and cas’ budding relationship. this fic is so tropey but it does it well and it’s funny as fuck

However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke 'I saw her first.’

his fucking kids by 8sword, 3k, canonverse au. dean and cas raise claire and emma together. yes, claire novak. yes, emma of 7x13 spice girls fame. this was the first kidfic i read for spn i think. obvs written before jack or claire actually came back into the picture but it was the TEMPLATE of kidfic for me for ages

Jesus, the school should just have a parking spot labeled, “Reserved for the Novak-Winchesters,” because Dean’s getting sick of having to cruise around the parking lot looking for a spot every time he gets a call from the principal about Emma.

💖 what has eight tentacles and isn’t allowed to eat pie? by annie d (scaramouche), 16k, post s8. dean gets turned into an octopus. another fic that was SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered i fucking love when that happens. it isn’t even about dean being an OCTOPUS like NO. NOT EVEN. it’s ACTUALLY about the bunker and building a home and a community and a family and about PHYSICAL COMFORT and you can actually feel the world expanding at the end of this fic like a gusty sigh of relief it’s SO WONDERFUL. kevin is in this fic. ellie is too and i had to look her up but THIS is her!!!! danay garcia u were too hot to stay on this show but i love you and miss u

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting.

Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.

💖 a beginner’s guide to communing with the dead by suspiciousflashlight, 77k, canonverse au. dean is a cop who summons a powerful entity to help him solve a cold case. oh my god i can’t believe i didn’t put this on here i love this one so much. the writing bowls me over it’s so confident in its worldbuilding like you’re IMMEDIATELY plunged into dean’s pov (FLAWLESSLY executed throughout the fic btw) and you just learn about the world as you go!! and it’s such a fascinating world!!! i love the magic i love the typical bureaucratic red tape procedures i love normalizing the supernatural. i ESPECIALLY love monsters as normal people in a society. at one point there’s this exchange

“Monsters,” says Cas finally. “Beyond the Wall there are monsters.” “You mean, like, vampires and djinn and stuff?” Cas shakes his head. “Those aren’t monsters, those are just people.”

those lines have stayed with me for years. i think about them every time i rewatch an episode of spn.

Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

dean’s list by almaasi, 3k, canonverse. dean makes a list. short and sweet. i read this so much in 2015 that it literally got engraved into my brain line by line and rereading it caused synapses to fire that havent felt anything in years

Dean writes out a list of men he would go gay for. Sam has a suggestion to make.

💖 the path of fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, post-s8. dean and cas open a charming bed and breakfast in vermont. no, literally. another CLASSIC. i think about the food in this fic all the time...........maple bacon baked french toast......the cinnamon rolls.....it literally sounds so good

After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

long nights in cold months by pyrebi, 2.3k, au. dean’s an insomniac and cas works at walmart. i forgot i had this fic ALSO basically memorized. holy shit. pineapple in the fruit aisle.....................anyway it’s short and sweet and the “plot” resolves in such a satisfying way

When you're an insomniac, you get used to the "what the hell are you doing up, man?" look. Dean just hopes the guy who's stocking the shelves will stop giving it to him long enough to help him find some damn pineapple.

incredibly single & ready to mingle by imogenbynight, 3.6k, au. dean and cas meet on facebook. short cute au!!!!!!

Sam uses Facebook like the social media junkie he is. He's befriended literally every person he's ever had a conversation with since he got an account, which means that approximately—Dean checks—eight hours ago, he shared this horrible photo with something in the vicinity of nine hundred people. The caption below the picture reads “incredibly single & ready to mingle ;)” and roughly half of them have liked it.

Dean has never been so embarrassed in his life.

💖 unknown quantities by xylodemon, 8.5k, post-s8. after a post-case tryst, dean has to figure out his and cas’ relationship. human cas fics hold a special place in my heart. funny AND good dean pov AND a misunderstanding that i actually think works!!!!!

No one ever tells Dean anything.

(or: Dean Winchester and the not-relationship crisis of 2014)

#spn fic #spn #dean x cas #this is horrifically long actually.

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

get out of here ~ mark;midsommar

word count: 2669

request?: yes!

“Hey! I love your imagines so much (epsecially the machine gun kelly one 😍) and I was wondering if you could write a will poulter (preferably in midsommar 🥵) imagine? Thank u 💖”

description: when one of the Hårga girls finds herself gaining feelings for one of their sacrifices, she urges him to leave as soon as possible

pairing: mark x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of sacrifice

masterlist

fair warning, i haven’t watched midsommar yet so if anything is incorrect i’m very sorry

He approached her so suddenly, and was so forward, that at first (Y/N) wasn’t sure how to react.

“Hey,” he said.

She stared at him for far too long before realizing he had addressed her and she should respond. “Hello.”

“My name’s Mark,” he said, extending his hand to her. She look at his hand for a long time, unsure as to whether to shake it or not. When she didn’t, Mark dropped his hand. “Alright then, do you have a name?”

“Oh, yes, I’m (Y/N),” she finally responded. “It’s nice to meet you, Mark.”

“You too. Listen, I was just wondering if there were any snacks around here.”

“Oh, no. We only have our three square meals a day. Siv says it’s healthier for the body to eat at the same time every day the same amount of food instead of stuffing yourself every day until you’re full.”

Mark nodded, although (Y/N) could see he had tuned out early into her speech. “Right, yeah, so there’s nothing at all? You can’t even slip me anything from the kitchen or anything?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Unfortunately not. It’s against the rules. I could get in serious trouble.”

“Right, wouldn’t want to get in trouble or anything.” Mark winked at her and (Y/N) couldn’t stop the blush that crept up her face. “Well, if I can’t eat, can I help you with what you’re doing to get my mind off of my hunger?”

(Y/N) smiled brightly at him. “Of course! I’m picking the flowers for the May Queen’s coronation outfit. We usually collect bright coloured flowers for it, so whatever bright flowers you see feel free to pick!”

Mark smiled back at her and knelt down next to her to help her start picking flowers.

The two got to talking while they picked the flowers together. (Y/N) got to know a little more about Mark, like where he was from, how old he was, his relations to the group he arrived with. He asked (Y/N) about herself, but there wasn’t really much (Y/N) could say. She didn’t remember much about her past life before joining the Hårga. She wasn’t even sure if she had a past life. She was sure she had been born within the Hårga.

By the time they finished, the basket she had taken with her was filled to the brim with bright flowers and Mark had so many that he could barley hold them with two hands. (Y/N) watched and giggled as Mark tried to pick them all up but continued to drop them.

“Here, pass them to me,” she told him, extending her hands to him.

Mark passed his flowers to her, his hand lightly brushing hers as he did. (Y/N) jumped at the contact, a weird feeling coursing up her arm and spreading through her body. Mark looked down at her, a ghost of a smile on his face. She tried to smile back, but she felt as though she couldn’t.

“I can’t wait to see what this May Queen outfit looks like if it’s made of all flowers,” Mark finally said as he pulled his hand away. “And I hope you win it. You deserve it.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground and pushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “I don’t think I deserve it, but I appreciate your hopefulness. We’ll see how it goes.”

An awkward silence fell upon them as (Y/N) held her basket so tightly her knuckles were turning white. Mark awkwardly rubbed the back of his head before asking, “Save me a seat at dinner tonight? We can continue our conversation then.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Okay, I would like that a lot.”

~~~~~~

She was helping her Hårga sisters to make the May Queen coronation outfit when the men entered the small room, being led by their leader, Siv. Nearly all the women came to attention at his presence, (Y/N) included.

“My lovely daughters,” Siv started, addressing the women first. “The May Queen dress looks absolutely beautiful. (Y/N), you did a fantastic job at picking out the flowers for the dress.”

“Thank you, sir,” (Y/N) responded with a proud smile.

Siv smiled back and addressed the entire room. “My children, tomorrow we take action on our third sacrifice, the American tourist brought to us by Pelle known as Mark.”

The room was buzzing with excitement at the reveal, except for (Y/N). Her face fell in shock and horror upon hearing Mark’s name from Siv’s mouth.

“He has disrespected our beautiful family by desecrating our ancestral tree, therefore he has made himself our next sacrifice,” Siv continued to explain. “Tomorrow, one of our sister’s will bring this man somewhere private, and we shall commence our third sacrifice of the midsummer.”

“It was an accident.”

The words were out of (Y/N)’s mouth before she could stop herself. The entire room turned to look at her in shock, including Siv. (Y/N) tried to shrink back into the crowd of women, but was shoved forward by her sisters behind her.

“What was that, (Y/N)?” Siv asked, his voice dangerously calm.

(Y/N) didn’t want to look at him, but she knew looking away would be the worst decision to make. “It’s just...he was unaware that that was a sacred tree. I think maybe it’s just...wrong to punish him when he didn’t know.”

Siv looked at her for a moment before approaching her slowly. (Y/N) tried not to back away from her leader in fear as he got so close he was mere inches away from her face. He still looked calm, but in his eyes (Y/N) could see the anger.

(Y/N)’s cheek stung as Siv slapped her across the face. She stumbled back again, exclaiming in shock. Her sisters mimicked her cry as they caught her, one of them hugging her close as she tried to keep her tears back.

“I will not be questioned,” Siv snapped. “He disrespected us, (Y/N). Whether he meant to or not, he did, and thus he will be our third sacrifice. And if you question me again, you will be forced to be one of the Hårga sacrifices. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” (Y/N) squeaked, holding her stinging cheek.

Siv nodded and turned away from her, leaving the room. Everyone else followed as dinner time was called. (Y/N) stood by herself, still holding her cheek. She tried to keep back the tears that were starting to form in her eyes. She took a deep breath and followed everyone outside to the dinner table.

She made sure to sit close to where the visitors would be sitting, leaving an empty chair next to her where Mark could sit.

The visitors all showed up at the same time. Mark’s eyes scanned the table briefly before they settled on (Y/N). Despite the shock and the sting she was still feeling, (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile a little when she saw him approaching her. However, her heart fell to her stomach when he sat next to her as she realized that this may be the last time she saw him.

No, she thought to herself. No, he will live. Both of us will. We will escape this place and we’ll never look back. I’ll make sure of it.

“Hello,” Mark said as he sat next to her. “Thank you for saving me the best seat in the house.”

(Y/N) looked around to see if any of her brothers or sisters were looking her way. When she was sure they weren’t, she leaned towards Mark to whisper, “I will meet you in your room tonight past curfew. Have your bag packed and be ready to leave.”

Mark looked at her in confusion, but the look she sent him told him to keep quiet. Instead of asking questions, he just nodded and gladly welcomed the plate of food set in front of him.

~~~~~~

He was waiting when she showed up, his bag in one hand like she asked. His friends were fast asleep, so deep in sleep that they didn’t even hear her enter.

“What’s this about?” Mark asked. “Why did I need to pack my bag? Where am I going?”

“We’re getting out of here,” (Y/N) responded.

“What? Why? Why are you coming with me? What’s happening?”

(Y/N) sighed. “If I tell you, you won’t believe me. I can explain everything when we’re safely away from here, but we need to go now while everyone is asleep, especially Siv.”

She reached for Mark’s arm to pull him along, but he pulled away from her before she could do so. “No, tell me what’s going on! Everyone has been so weird since I got here, and now you’re suddenly telling me to take my bags and to leave here without my friends? Why do I have to leave? Why can’t they? Tell me!”

“They’re going to kill you tomorrow!” (Y/N) snapped. She looked over her shoulder to make sure there was no one coming through the door suddenly to take her and Mark. When she looked back she saw Mark’s bewildered face.

“They...what?”

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,” (Y/N) muttered. “This midsummer ceremony isn’t as innocent as you think it is. During every ceremony, they bring in visitors and at least four of them are used as sacrifices. They’ve already sacrificed two, the English couple, Simon and Connie, and because you took a piss on the ancestral tree they decided you’re going to be the next one because of it.”

Mark ran his fingers through his hair as he started to pace in a circle. “I didn’t know that stupid tree was sacred! No one told me!”

(Y/N) grabbed his wrist, finally managing to get him to look at her. “That’s not important right now, okay? We have to go, we have to get out of here before anyone notices that I’m here trying to get you to go or else they’ll sacrifice us both.”

Mark nodded. He took his bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder. Finally, (Y/N) was able to take him out of the room towards the door.

(Y/N) poked her head out to look around to make sure no one was awake. All the lights everywhere were off, there wasn’t a single sound anywhere. There was miles of trees they’d have to run through to get anywhere, and even then she had no idea where they’d come out to. But she knew they had to leave and this was their only hope.

“Run for the trees,” she whispered to Mark. “Don’t stop going until you find civilization. Even if we’re separated, do not stop. Don’t turn back to look for me, just go. Okay?”

Mark nodded. (Y/N) could see the concern in his eyes as she said it, but she couldn’t worry about him now. She checked the perimeter one more time before stating, “Go!”

She and Mark took off running, their hands clasped so tightly together. (Y/N) pulled her dress up enough that she was able to run without getting caught up or without Mark tripping over it.

The minute she began to run (Y/N)’s legs started to burn. She had never done so much physical activity like this before, and now she was running as though her life depended on it, because it did.

Mark was already passing her as they ran. He was running with all his might to try and get out of there. He was nearly pulling (Y/N)’s arm off at one point. Realizing she was much slower than him, he stopped long enough to allow (Y/N) to jump on his back before taking off again.

They were running for so long that by the time they found themselves coming to a clearing the sun was starting to rise. (Y/N)’s heart was pounding out of her chest as she looked over her shoulder for the millionth time. Any minute now everyone would be waking up in the Hårga and realizing that she and Mark were gone. It was only a matter of time before Siv went looking, and she wasn’t sure if he would be faster than she thought or not.

Finally they came to the clearing, a wide road surrounded by the trees. (Y/N) was starting to feel so nervous her stomach was churning. If they couldn’t find a car or anything soon they were so screwed, and all of this would’ve been for nothing. She and Mark would be dead before they could even try to escape again.

And then, as if answering her prayers right away, a large truck was speeding towards them. (Y/N) hopped off Mark’s back and stood in the middle of the road, waving her hands and screaming at the truck. The driver jammed on the breaks just in time not to run her over.

“Can you give us a ride to the nearest town?” Mark asked the driver. “We don’t have a car or anything, we just need to get somewhere that we can either rent one or get to an airport or something.”

The driver looked between (Y/N) and Mark, hesitant to help. (Y/N) couldn’t blame him, they hadn’t slept in nearly 24 hours and they spent nearly the whole night running through the woods. They definitely looked terrifying, especially (Y/N) in her all white dress.

“We were attacked,” (Y/N) responded, coming up with an easy lie. “These...crazy people threw us into the trunk of our own car and brought us to the middle of nowhere. We’ve been trying to get away for hours, we only just found a road.”

The truck driver still seemed skeptical, but he agreed anyways. “I have a bed for long drives in the back, feel free to sleep until we get there. We could be driving for a while.”

(Y/N) and Mark thanked him as they climbed into the truck. They both immediately headed to the bed in the back. (Y/N) nearly sighed in relief as she laid back on the bed.

“I’m free,” she mumbled, mainly to herself. “I can’t believe it, I’m actually free. I’m seeing the outside world for the first time. Holy fuck.”

“Why did you warn me?” Mark asked her as he settled into the bed next to her. “Why didn’t you let them fulfil the sacrifice for the ceremony? I thought that place was your home.”

(Y/N) rolled onto her side and looked at him. “I...I just...I really like you. More than I think I’ve ever liked anyone in that place. When they told me you were the next sacrifice, I nearly cried. I knew I couldn’t let them hurt you. I knew I had to get you out of here, whether it was with me or without me.”

Mark reached forward to tuck her hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek for some time. “I wouldn’t have left there without you. I like you, too. And since you took me away from there, I’d like to take you away from here. I’d like to take you back to America so that you don’t have to worry about those people anymore.”

(Y/N) hadn’t thought about having to worry about the Hårga anymore, but she knew Mark was right. She’d be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life if she stayed in Sweden, worried that the Hårga would somehow find her.

She smiled and said, “Yes please, I would love that.”

Mark smiled back at her and settled down on the bed. (Y/N) laid next to him and he pulled her close to him. She felt peaceful and at relaxed, and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

This was so bad I’m so sorry.

#midsommar #will poulter #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader #imagine #request #one shot #mark

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weightlossblogd · 3 years

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3 Effortless Actions to Quick and Long lasting Excess weight Loss

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introvertllux · 4 years

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Copia’s World: Chapter 1

Story Description: Lena is gifted with extraordinary powers, that much is true but what happens when she discovers that her powers are more of a curse than a blessing. Will Lena be able to fight the dark path she seems fated for or will she be able to confront her ever-growing powers in order to forge her own path? Secrets and lies discovered as Lena navigate through family, love, and self-discovery.

Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Drama

Warnings: 18+, depictions of bullying, Christianity discrimination, mental health, mental disorders, racism, suicide, discrimination. (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).

*Any depictions referred to in the warnings are based on MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. Please do not think I’m making fun or or mocking anyone, again these experiences are based on what I have seen and, or been through myself. Also, I am not intending to romanticize mental health or disorders in anyway. Lastly, If you do decided to read this story I am very thankful and I hope you enjoy it. : )

Notes to add:

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS

THE ORIGINAL STORY IDEA IS MY OWN

THE CREATION OF THE CHARACTER PROFILES ARE MY OWN DOING (I DO NOT OWN THE PHOTOGRAPHS ARE ART WORKS OF EACH CHARACTER. HOWEVER, I DID EDIT THE PICTURES OF MY OC (BRI HALL) TO MATCH MY OC DESCRIPTION.

THIS STORY WILL TAKE SOME EVENTS FROM THE COMICS, ANIMATED SERIES, AND THE LIVE ACTION MOVIES.

IN THIS STORY ALEX IS YOUNGER THAN SCOTT AND THE AGES VARY BASED ON THE ACTOR THAT PLAYS THE CHARACTER AND FOR THE SAKE OF THE PLOT

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Third Person’s P.O.V.

Friday, July 27, 2019

Lena inhaled the crisp cool summer air as she gazed outside of the large crystal-clear window of the deep corridor. A breathtaking blend of coral and peach sunlight filled the sky as birds soared high and low while chirping a captivating melody. She exhaled, as she gently opened her yellow-amber eyes and watched the pattern the birds flew in. Lena, then gripped the frame of widow seal, careful not to crush it underneath her superhuman strength. Oh, how badly did she want to leap out of the wind and fly, to soar, and join the feathered-winged creatures.

(You look like you want to join them) she heard a voice say inside of her head.

(More than anything…) I responded back.

(I think that freedom is what you seek more than anything, Lena) the voice said.

Lena looked at the person next to her from the lower corner of her left eye.

(Grandpa, freedom is the one thing I desire the most out of this world. It’s funny you know… how easy it seems to be able to have. To get too. It’s literally right outside my door. But for me, it seems unreachable. It’s bittersweet to know that my only desire is so close yet so far. But as a mutant as… me, I know that I would rather give up my dreams to protect my family and those who can’t protect themselves.)

she said as she turned her full body towards the founder of the Xavier Institute.

(As usual, that’s very brave, kind, and noble of you Lena. But as I told you many times in the past you can be all those things and more without giving up on the things you want. Balance is key to anything you do in life, Lena. Once, you've mastered that you’ll be impossible to stop) Professor Xavier said.

Lena let out a sigh, (Grandpa you and I both know the circumstances that prevent me from being free. I-I just want to be like them) I communicated to him as I pointed my arm out of the window at the birds in front of me. (How long do I have to be a caged bird? How long until I can use my powers to help instead of hurting. How long until my powers stop feeling like a curse. How long until nobody fears me and they except me! How long until I can be free!?)

She yelled telepathically causing the man next her to groan in pain as he gripped the sides of his head.

Lena’s P.O.V

“Uh! Grandpa, I’m so, so, sorry!” I yelled as I kneeled next to his wheelchair. I tried to gently console him, trying to be extra careful of my strength and the volume of my voice.

“It’s alright, Lena.” He said softly.

I looked at him with glistening eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m so stupid.” I said quieter.

“Far from it my dear, very far. You just have trouble controlling your powers is all. We’ve all been there. I have your mother, your father, and the rest of the students that live here. Your case is just a special one… and like the rest we will find a way for you to control them.” He said optimistically.

I stared at him for a split second as I read his facial expression. Although he always made sure to remain level-headed and positive at all times, I know that deep inside he’s afraid. He’s terrified. He more than anyone that we know, knows how much of a ticking time bomb I am. He knows that I’m capable of the world ending power, yet he masks it all in hopes that “we” find a solution in an unpredictable time.

“Now, Lena if my time is correct and I’m sure that it is you have about 5 minutes before Colossus will be looking to join the others in the Danger Room. You know how organized he is.” He said smiling softly.

I mentally rolled my eyes as he mentioned Colossus.

“Have fun, and make sure you pay specific attention until how each student is managing their powers. I think it might help you find your source of control.” He said.

“Will do, grandpa. Have a nice rest of your day.” I said as I ran down the long hallway and down to my room.

As I entered my room, I quickly opened my side table drawer and pulled out black gloves that covered every inch of my hands. I quickly pulled them on my hair, careful not to tear them. I looked down at the gloves as I started to feel anxiety.

Looking at these gloves was a constant reminder of how defective I was. Usually, when I felt my powers start to lose control in the slightest way, I would put these gloves on. Today… when I broke the telepathic link with my grandfather was a sign of lack of control, although not a big one it was still something.

One of my first abilities I was able to master at a young age was telepathy but seeing as of late I’m losing my grip over it I think the gloves will stabilize me. God forbid I go to training and I bump into someone and I absorb their abilities or hurt them in any other way.

With about two minutes left before training, I left my room (which wasn’t too far from the danger room only about 10 feet). I walked with a neutral expression on my face as I entered the control room. I took “my” seat next to a standing Colossus whose body shined in pride at his team below.

“Nice of you to join us today, Lena.” He said without looking at me. I nodded my head back at his as I looked down at the white dull sneakers on my feet that seemed to pique my interest at the moment.

“I didn’t see you for breakfast, AGAIN. How can you expect to be a good hero if you aren’t eating a well-balanced meal?” He said in a lecturing tone.

No, how can I expect to be a good one, if I’m not allowed to use my powers?

I heard the sound of his body turning towards me, I hastily moved my hands behind my back so he wouldn’t see that I had my gloves on.

He cleared his throat and said, “I want you to watch closely. Today the team will be working on teamwork protocols. As a member of this team, I need you to see and understand how each team member's abilities work as well as how they complement one another.” He said as he turned back, getting ready to speak into the intercoms.

This is why I hated “training”. First and foremost, I’m not really a part of the team. I’m what you call the “final choice”. I’m the SWAT team to the police force. The Hulk to the Avengers. I’m the big guns. If our chances of winning are extremely low, they are banking on me to bring the bacon home. From an outsider’s perspective, it sounds like an honor… but in reality, it’s quite the opposite. I’m the caged animal that they only let free on the special circumstance. They don’t want to see me, talk to me, or USE me until they need me.

As for their powers, I know them left to right. I know every single one of my teammate’s power sources, origins, and weaknesses. How could I not? I live my life watching them all have fun with their powers and showing them off while I stay dormant, in complete comatose. Get this… isn’t it hilarious, how my parents always told me that mutants were special, that I was special but one mistake… and now I’m too special to use my gifts?

Don’t get me wrong at all. I love every and any kind of mutant good or evil no matter what their gifts are, they are all special and unique to me. But that all goes out the window when: 1.) I don’t use my powers so I’m basically a regular person and 2.) When I have the ability to absorb, replicate, and keep any power I’m exposed to. Having that ability, that curse, makes everyone around you feel ordinary and that’s something I hate about myself. I never want anyone to feel less than. I rather it is me so that they never know how it really feels.

Okay, team, I’m commencing the portal now. Get ready.” I heard Colossus say. A few seconds later I saw the lights deem as the computer speak:

Commencing Protocol 24389: Team Civilian Rescue

I sat up in my chair slightly making sure to keep my hands in a place where I knew Colossus wouldn’t be able to see. Within a few seconds, I analyzed the protocol. It seemed as though each section and customized by each person’s powers. Each person had their weakness placed in each section but would require help from a member to move through. Their ultimate end goal was to rescue an elder-women and her cat (Ha, how cute Colossus).

I continued to watch for a few moments, already seeing that they were not working as a team. I glanced up at Colossus from the side of my eye and noticed his stone-cold expression.

Which I knew was translated to mean anger, disappointment, and shame. It seems like the only person that was trying his best was Alex, better known as Havok. He tried to guide the team and even give some advice but he was stopped but Mr. Hothead himself Pyro, or John who’s ego was so big he wouldn’t take direction from anyone because he was the leader and what he said went even if he was wrong.

Then there was Jubilation Lee or Jubilee who was a poor long-term focuser so when it came to making plans and strategies, she wasn’t all the way there. And last but certainly not least the Lovesick King, Sam aka Cannonball, he was so in love with Jubilee all he heard, saw, and thought about was her. If it didn’t involve her, he wanted no parts and that’s exactly what was happening.

A few more minutes went by and I heard the screams of agony ring throughout the control panel. I flinch and quickly stood up hoping that nobody was hurt. The lights slowly turned on as I realized that the scream I heard was from the elderly women hologram. I let out a small sigh… glad that everyone was okay (well almost everyone).

Protocol 24389: Team Civilian Rescue. Failed.

I heard the computer say as the light was on completely. I heard Colossus' large steps start to exit the control room. I knew better than to try to leave and retreat back to my room. I hated conflict and I knew this would be another confrontation and I knew deep down inside It would be my fault because that’s just my role on this team.

“This! This is teamwork!?” Colossus yelled as he waved his hands in front of the other students.“Well, If John helped out more- “Sam started to say before he was cut off by everyone auguring back and forth all at once.

“Enough!” Colossus yelled once more.

“This is not what good teams do! Arguing and fight one another. That’s for the villain, not the heroes.” He said

.He let out a sigh, “You, “He said as he pointed at John, “You are the leader. You are supposed to lead them with humility and a good plan. You did neither of those. If you do that on the real battlefield do you expect to lead your team to victory or their deaths.”

He said sternly. “Jubilee, you need to focus on the battlefield you can get yourself and others hurt or worse. Samuel, you need to focus on your team and the civilians, keep your head on the battlefield, not on your heart.” He said as he exchanged looks between the both of them.

Colossus looked up and down at Alex swiftly, “Alex, great work for what little you had to work with. Keep it up. It’s clear that you all need more training so… I will see you bright and early at 6:00 AM tomorrow.” He said as he began to turn around and walk off.“But… tomorrow is Saturday!” I heard Jubilee yell. Colossus just waved as he exited the room. I turned, trying to leave the room unnoticed.

“Where do you think you’re going.” I heard John say. I stopped for a moment, deciding not to let him get to me today.

I heard him snort, “Got the gloves on, huh? Bad day?” He said with a chuckle.

I quickly grabbed my hands and folded them up to my chest tightly as I kept walking.

“You know it’s your fault we failed that protocol.” He said with venom in his voice. I stopped in my tracks, my back still facing him.

“You just sit up there in the control room acting all high and mighty while we do all the work. What’s the point of doing all the work, when you can do it? You have the ability to have any and every power known to man yet- because you’re so defective we have to do the work. It’s pretty pathetic, to be honest.” He let out a sarcastic sigh, “I guess… I’ll always have that over you, huh? being flawless, being more than enough.” He said in a taunting manner.

“John, back off.” I heard Alex say.

“Shh… your leader is talking. And as the leader, I say my “team member” needs some constructive criticism.” He said wickedly.

“You know… now that I think about it I kind of own you. Everything I say goes. I mean look your powers are banned. You don’t train with us, you can’t leave this house, and… a big part of that is thanks to me. One of my greatest accomplishments to date I think.” He said as he started to laugh widely.

I began to shake in my spot, tears threatening to spill. I didn’t want to look up at John. All I wanted to do was run and retreat back to my room, the place I knew I would always be the safest. But instead, I decided that I had to look up, into the eyes of the man that made my life living hell every day for years. Not one part of me wanted to think he was evil or malicious when he tormented me on a daily. I wanted to see the good in him, as a fellow mutant, as a teammate, as a person. But all I could see what a selfish and wicked cold-hearted man.

I speed to my room devastated and broken. This was nothing new under the sun. Every day, John would take his shots at me tearing me down in front of our peers and they would just let it happen. John hated him with all his heart and soul and the rest didn’t understand me. They didn’t bother too. That just knows about the accident that leads to my powers awakening and from then on, they’ve avoided me like the plague. It just me to see that even in my own home that I will never kind anyone who truly gets me or a place where I belong.

I laid on my bed fast down as I cried myself to sleep. What felt like a minute later, was actually hours as I heard tapping on my window. I walked to my window and opened it wide as something swiftly flew in. I looked at the figured and smiled.

“Cuzzo! It’s been a while!” I heard my cousin Peter yell.

I quickly jumped on him as we landed on the bed with my hand covering his mouth. “Shh,” I whispered.

Of course, I was very happy to see my cousin Peter. It’s been too long but like a true prisoner, I am not allowed to have any visitors and the same goes for Peter even though he’s family.

Peter’s eyes roamed down to my gloved hand and he mumbled something against. I moved my hands down and looked down at my lap, knowing how concerned he would be to see my gloves on. I didn’t want to ruin our reunion, but I felt as though I already did.

He grabbed both of my gloved hands and squeezed tightly, “Lena…” He expresses in a worried voice.

“Peter, I’m fine. I promise. Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about you I haven’t seen you in so long, aren’t you taking Online Summer courses at MIT?” I asked genuinely interested.

Peter’s looked lingered for a few seconds before he gave in, “Yeah I am actually. They’re killer. Dad wanted me to try and stay on campus and do the whole college thing a try, but I wanted to be able to patrol at home and- “He said before I interrupted “And your crush” I said in a teasing voice.

“Lin.” He said in a whining voice as he pursed his lips and I continued to laugh a bit.

“Well, I think uncle Tony just wants you to give you a fair shot at the whole being a “normal” kid type of thing. But you’re too far gone, Spider-Man. We’ve lost you to the dark side.” I said as I continued to joke.

“Tell me about it, right now I’m on the dark side of college homework.” He said as he began to pull out his homework from his bag.

“I also brought some ice cream. They’re rock solid, so by the time I get done with this they should be defrosted.” He said.

We talked back and forth as Peter did his homework. I helped quite a bit with the equations he was having problems solving.

“Lena, I always knew you were smart… but you’re better at solving these problems than I am. Maybe you should be at MIT, instead.” He laughed.

“No, way Peter. You’re a genius. I just like a challenge that all. Plus, engineering isn’t my passion.” I said with a shrug.

“To be honest you’ve never really talked about your passions before.” He said sounding intrigued.

“Um, my first one would be getting out of here. I might get spontaneous and travel to every state.” I said laughing while being serious.

“You know… being here all my life and not being allowed to leave unless supervised never gave me the chance to really find myself. I went to school here and never had the chance to go to college. The one constant thing that I find myself doing that I like is helping. I also like kids too, even if I’m not around them often. But when I was around Franklin and Valeria I was in awe. I wanted nothing but to see them happy you know. I don’t know maybe… maybe I’ll become a teacher.” I said quietly.

“Well, I think you’re an amazing teacher. You’re creative, smart, kind, and you always put other's needs before your own.” Peter said as he smiled softly at me as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

I flinched back, as he stared at me with his arms in surrender at me. “ah… um, I’m sorry.” I said frantically. “I just… my powers and the gloves um...” I said starting to panic.

“No, no. I’m sorry Lin I should’ve known better.” He said. “Um, ice cream?” He said after a few moments of silence.

I nodded my head as he handed me, a mocha chip flavored ice cream. I smiled and thanked him. He always remembered by favorite. As we ate my ice cream, he talked to me about his dad and what the rest of the Avengers were up too.

“Wait so Thor is fat now?” I repeated. “Yeah, but he’s got more a dad bod thing going in verses the devastated drunk bod. He’s getting there. Aunt Nat and Uncle Clint are taking care of the psychical and dad are doing his version of emotional support and the rest of us are doing real actual support.” He said as eat another spoonful of ice cream.

I smiled, “I miss them. I wish I was there to see their faces.” I said feeling low again. “I know they all miss you, I missed you. I promise even though I have these dumb classes I’m coming to visit you more often even if Uncle Logan tries to kill me and hang me over the fireplace.” He said in a joking yet serious manner.

“When I told dad, I was going to sneak into your house, he said, “Why go all Bond on them, we can walk right up and make it a party.” He said laughing.

I shook my head, “I think at that point it’s more about our dad’s deep intense hatred for one another.” I said.

“They have a lot in common that’s why. They both think they know everything or can do anything better than another person.” Peter said.

“Ugh, tell me about it. Back to the party thing, it’s almost your birthday in two weeks what are you going to do. I know Uncle Tony will want to throw you a big bash.” I said.

“Yeah, now you tell me about it. I told dad something quite with the family but of course, it went in one ear and out the other. At this point, I don’t care what he wants to do. If you can’t come then, I don’t want anything.” He said.

“Aww. Peter, no don’t throw away your party for me. It’s not worth it.” I said. “What? Lena, are you hearing yourself? You’re my cousin. I’m not going to have a party that’s supposed to have family and friends there and you not be there. I don’t care if I have to invite every single member of this household in order for you to be able to come, I will do it.” He said.

I was a bit stun that he said he would invite everyone just for me. I know Peter wasn’t super close to the rest of the team members closer to our ages but Peter was the extroverted one out of the both of us so if it came down to it he would have no problem socializing with them, even if it were for a minute.

A few more minutes pass and Peter and I exchange goodbyes as he exited out of the window. About 10 minutes later another knock could be heard from the window.

What’s with my window tonight.

I raised the window and looked outside of it. “Hey, Angel.” I heard my Uncle Angel say to me with a wave. I waved back. He drew in closer to the window. “Hard day?” He asked as he nodded towards my gloves. I shrugged but didn’t say a word.

“How about some Angel Time.” He said as he referred to the nickname, I called our flying time together when I was a child. I knew the repercussions that would follow if we left the house without telling anyone, we both did, but I need this. For me flying was like a rocking a baby back to sleep, it was soothing to me, it was liberating.

I took a step back from my window and leaped out. Smiling widely as I levitated in the air. I began to fly up higher with my arms stretched wide. This is the feeling I’ve been missing for so long. I continued to smile as I fly all around my uncle. We flew together for a while until he landed on a cliff and patted his hand down on the grass near him. I flew down and landed gently.

“You know, when you’re up there flying around, you look just like your mother.” I smiled softly at his observation.

“Before you were born your mother and I used to fly all the time. It’s one of the only times I’ve really seen your mother look so happy, that or when you or your dad are around.” He said.

“Is that why you fly. Because it’s your freedom too.” I asked. He looked over and smiled at me. “You know before I discovered my wings I was from a very wealthy family. From the outside, everyone thought I was so happy and perfect because of it but I was so miserable. When I discovered my wings, I got on my knees and praised God because nothing could stop me from escaping the hell in which I lived. I had the power to leave and discover my own path and that’s what lead me to the school. Flying doesn’t solve all my problems, no. But it helps me to get on the right track.” He said with passion.

I hummed in satisfaction at his answer. It was so detailed and liberating. I related to it in many ways. Uncle Angel and I continued to laugh and talk about things from my childhood and things of his past, until sunrise. As the sun rose so did my anxiety and panic because I knew when I got home, I was in trouble. I knew I probably missed training so that was a dead give away that I wasn’t home like I was supposed to be.

We flew back home, with Uncle Angel telling me he would help explain the situation to my parents. However, that didn’t make me feel better considering the fact that there was no reasoning with parents as overprotective as my own.

We landed swiftly and opened the door to the mansion and made our way to the kitchen, figuring they would be there having their morning coffee and tea.

“Lena Oni Howlett! Where have you been? You just don’t leave the house without telling us or someone going with you!” I heard my mother yell.

“I know. “I mumbled quietly that only my father could probably hear with his advanced hearing.

“Wait Ororo, please don’t yell at her it was my fault,” Angel said as he stood in front of me.

“She was having a bad day and-and I know flying helps to calm her down, so I took her.” He said trying to explain the situation.

“Do you have any idea what could’ve to happen with her flying up there. “I heard my father say with a growl.

“Nothing, I was with her-“ Angel tried to finish before he was interrupted “Then you’re dumber than I thought birdbrain. Her powers are unpredictable right now. We don’t know what triggers then and what doesn’t. You could’ve gotten yourselves both killed.” He said with anger in his voice.

I flinched when he called my powers unpredictable and when he said I was capable of killing both of us. It was true and I didn’t want it to happen. I never want to hurt anyone ever again but the way my own father was describing me it was like I was some kind of monster.

“Logan…” My mother warned.

“Can you believe this bullshit!” He yelled as he slammed his hand onto the marble countertop causing a crack to form.

“Watch your language!” My mother yelled at him.

“As soon as we do a better job at keeping track of our own, damn daughter. Oh, or do you not remember the stakes that are at hand!” He roared.

“Of course, I do! That’s why we’re taking the percussions we are now!” He yelled back. At this point, they were arguing with one another about me in front of me completely ignoring how I feel at this point. I felt awful knowing that my parents were arguing because of me. They rarely argued. Mostly playful banter. But I was the cause of this me. I hate conflict but I had to make it right.

“Stop!” I screamed at the top as my lungs as my eyes glow dark pink and my hair floated up in the air slightly. “Have you ever thought for a second how this all makes me feel? I’m the one with uncontrolled powers. I’m the one that ends up hurting people. I’m the common denominator! Keeping locked up like-like some monster won’t solve any of it.” I said looking at them with my eyes still glowing.

“This-” I said as pink aura started admitting from my body, “You say it’s special, but I have to hide it. You treat how society treats mutants. I don’t know whose side you guys are on or if you see me as some dangerous mutant…. or as your daughter.” I said in a shaky breath.

“I’m warning you both now. That if you don’t give me some space… or just an inch of freedom I will explode and nothing- and I mean nothing in this world will be able to contain it not even me.” I said sadly as I turned my back on them and left the kitchen quietly.

I went to my bedroom and looked into the mirror on the way to the far right and stared at it. My eyes were still glowing, and my pink aura was still surrounding my body. I sat down gently and started to close my eyes and take deep breaths until I felt my power level constrain back into my body. I take a few more moments before I hop into bed.

I take off my gloves and lay them on the side of my bed. I stare at my hands. The hands of murder. The hands of filled with extraordinary power. The hands of a murderer.

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Link to:

Masterpost

Chapter 2

I wanted to thank everyone who has liked or reblogged anything that has to do with this story. I want to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to the following people for showing me some support (I apologize if i’m missing any names)!!

@jaydeee86 @cyberdoshee @princess-of-fuckup @nygoddess @kenbechillin @queenwinchester27 @themilkcartoonkid @nunubug99 @discowh0requeen @my-massivelyhopefulcollection @eroticababylv @cocoplovely @loveinsunlight @grandetan @deansblackbeauty @lumbs17 @rls905 @girl-oddity @noble-kale @love-livinglifetothefullest @rudebot @black-is-beautiful18 @kaylahemsworth @sanders2017 @save-feza @alexthesupergay @missellaineous @princessshanae14 @mismerccray @amethyst09 @bunniotomia

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